text stringlengths 9 90.7k |
|---|
Habitation in Nanjing
As Seen by an Architect and Planner through a Comparison of Two Projects in Six Years
Lu Xiaoning
Architect
Deputy Chief Director of the Acting Office of Nanjing Planning Committee
Nanjing Urban Planning Bureau, China
Introduction
I was employed in Nanjing Architecture Design and Research Office from 1985 to 1995. During this time, I designed a lot of plans and projects including housing and various kinds of public buildings. Since 1995, I have been working in Nanjing Urban Planning Bureau, an authority of the city government. I have seen, managed, supervised, chosen, evaluated and approved permits for a huge number of plans and building projects especially housing.
There were two projects in six years that I will consider in this paper. The first is a project I designed myself six years ago. The second is a new project which I reviewed just this year and chose from 5 design proposals by a professor at the Southeast University in Nanjing.
In this paper I will try to describe and analyse the experience in these two projects with respect to the strategies, actors and designs, in order to develop and propose better methods and solutions.
Problem Definition
Housing is a large problem especially in a developing country with such a huge population as China. It concerns lots of sectors that I do not expect to find all the solutions or even the best one. However, I am going to find a few insufficiencies and get some solutions for town and city families, just from the perspective of my experiences. The duty of an Architect and the Urban Planning Authority have a major role in housing, but they are not the most important authorities taking charge of housing in our city: they are the Building Authority and the Construction Committee.
Motivation for the Choice of Study
During these 5 years (1996–2000) a great reform happened in the frame of the housing policy of China, including new housing standards, new ways of acquiring housing, forms of ownership, etc. So, I think that to compare and analyse the experiences of these two projects may be interesting.
Method of Study
This report will summarize the projects but will focus on analysis, conclusions and recommendations. And after the whole eight weeks course, including lectures, discussions, excursions and reading literature, I think there may be a better understanding about what are the accomplishments and what are the insufficiencies and their solutions.
Background
Country – China
The People’s Republic of China is located in the east of Asia, on the west coast of the Pacific Ocean. It is about 9.6 million km² in area, the third largest in the world. Its population was 1.295 billion (in Nov. 2000, meanwhile 1.265 billion in the Continent), the first in the world, one-fifth the population on the Earth.
China has the highest mountain in the world – Qomolangma, 8848 m high, and one of the longest rivers – Yangtze, 6397 km long.
China has a 4000 year old history and highly developed culture during ancient times. The country was so powerful it was not interested in foreign or modern technology. The Western countries became developed and strong after the Capitalist Revolution and the Industrial Revolution. The country lost the Opium War in 1840 and became backward, weak, poor and the economic development slowed. Now it is a developing country.
Between January and April 2000, the GDP was 8,940.35 billion RMB (1 USD=8.3 RMB), or an 8.0% growth.
Regional – Nanjing
Nanjing is one of the four famous ancient capitals in China (the capital of Wo, Jin, The South Dynasty, S. Tang, Ming and the R. China, etc.). Today it is the provincial capital of Jiangsu, as well as an important central city in the lower reaches of the Yangtze River. It is in the economic zone of the national productivity layout, the Yangtze Delta. “As a city close to rivers and lakes, Nanjing is a comprehensive industrial base, an important communication and transportation centre and one of the four scientific research and education centres in East China. It is also the second largest business centre next to Shanghai in East China. Located on 32°03′ north latitude and 118°47′ east longitude, Nanjing is not far from Anhui Province as well as Zhejiang Province, with the Yangtze River winding its way across the city eastwards to the sea. Nanjing is 300 km away from Shanghai, 1,200 km from Beijing. Nanjing ranked the 5th among the 50 Comprehensively Strong Cities. Total GDP in Nanjing in 1997 was RMB 76.2 billion.
By the end of 1997 Nanjing’s total population was 5.3 million, among which non-agricultural population was 2.7 million (51% of the total), agricultural 2.6 million (49%). The urban population was 1.85 million, the suburbs was 0.88 million and that in the five suburb counties was 2.57 million. There were 1.7 million households in the city. The birth rate was 8.01 (and the death rate was 5.85).
According to the classification of national economy industry, 0.77 million people were in the first industry (agriculture), 1.23 million in the second (manufacture) and 1.01 million in the third (service).
Figure 3: The general planning of Nanjing Urban District
1 [http://www.jlonline.com](http://www.jlonline.com)
To realize the goal sustainable development in the future, the Comprehensive Plan of Nanjing (1991–2010) is divided into three stages (short term, long term and distant view) and three spaces (municipality area, metropolis region and urban district).
The municipality area is the region within Nanjing’s administrative boundary with an area of 6516 km². The metropolitan region includes the urban district and surrounding towns with an area of 2753 km². It is a highly urbanized area with green space between towns and convenient transportation connecting towns. The urban district is the area within the circular bypass road and the south of Yangtze River with an area of 243 km², about 2 million people.
Figure 4: Some famous landscape and new architecture, during the date in the picture the 6th Congress of Chinese Businessmen over the whole World will convene in Nanjing
Figure 5: Longjiang Residence District
Project 1 Housing in Longjiang Residence District
The first project was designed in 1995, as a part of Longjiang Residence District, for officers of the provincial government. In that year they could get a house as welfare which higher than the standard enacted several years ago. But that standard was lower than today because the living level was also lower several years ago.
Project 2 Housing in Mendong Residence District
The second, designed and selected in 2001, is a plan for the redevelopment of an old city residence district. The houses will be sold on the open market, and there is a subvention for the people who lived here to help them to buy the new house, as the majority of them are lower-income people in our city. The standard is improved as well as the living level after twenty years of the Reform and Open Movement.
Strategies
In 1995 before the reform of the frame in housing policy in China, the salary did not include the money for buy a house on the market. There was not any housing market before 1985 for low-income or middle-income people in our country, since people could only get arranged housing provided by the employer as social welfare. Considering the slower growth of the national economy, and the rising of the needs of social welfare, it was too much to arrange housing in time. People had to wait and wait and accept the lower standard.
Followed the whole course of Frame Reform in China, improving of living level, the improving need of people’s habitation level, and the need of propelling the improving of GDP, the central government decided to reform the housing frame, as a decree as policy, or as a law – the Premier Office Act No.23 year 1998. All the arrangement of welfare housing would be stopped in 2000, to change the admeasurement/allocation in entity dwelling building into money in Salary. The housing market had grown for nearly twenty years, and had become adult, and would be the major source of housing.
Description
The Old Standard
The standard in that period, before the reform of the frame in housing, you can see in the table.
Table 1: Old standard of dwelling units
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Room</th>
<th>W.C</th>
<th>Kitchen</th>
<th>Dining</th>
<th>Bedroom</th>
<th>Others</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Area (m²)</td>
<td>2~3</td>
<td>3~5</td>
<td>6~7</td>
<td>7/person</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
The area of bedroom and dining room is different according to the family composition. The type of units of housing in that time is usually the following:
Table 2: The old type of dwelling units
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Type</th>
<th>Residents</th>
<th>Bedrooms</th>
<th>Bedroom Area (m²)</th>
<th>Useable Area (m²)</th>
<th>Unit Area (m²)</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Single</td>
<td>for a couple</td>
<td>one</td>
<td>14</td>
<td>25</td>
<td>35</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Small</td>
<td>couple + a child or single older person</td>
<td>one and a half</td>
<td>21</td>
<td>32</td>
<td>45</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Middle</td>
<td>two couples or one couple + two children</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Middle</td>
<td>couple + two adult children of different sex</td>
<td>one large, two small</td>
<td>28</td>
<td>40</td>
<td>55</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Large</td>
<td>two couples + a child or a single older person</td>
<td>two large, one small</td>
<td>35</td>
<td>50</td>
<td>65</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>X Large</td>
<td>large families</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
*The second couple is either on set of parents or a married child.*
At the end of 1980s, many architects and professors asked to change the unit type. This means that with the same area, to decrease the area of the bedroom, to increase the area of the dining room and turn it into a living room with the function of the dining room. Its area is about 10~15 m². They asked to increase the area of the standard of the kitchen room and W.C. And these ideas were fulfilled gradually.
An Important By-law in Nanjing –Act No.176
An important reform in Nanjing on the redevelopment was enacted in 2000. When a redevelopment project happened in an old residence district, the developer company used to pay the owner of the old house by giving him a new apartment unit. The area of which was according to the owner’s family composition, about 7m² per person in residence-area plus the kitchen room and W.C. The residence-area means the useable bedroom and dining room area. It was often issued 1~5 years later, as the money for the replacement housing was available after most of the house for market were sold. But now, the developer company should pay the owner of the old housing the money immediately, according to the area, locality, quality of construction and any extras such as telephone and cable TV connections.
The Reform of Frame in Housing in City and Town
To help understand the comparison, it is necessary to introduce the Reform of Frame in Housing in 1996~2000. Bearing the huge press of the old system of housing as a social welfare, the central government of China decided a great reform in the housing frame, to stop welfare housing before 2000 and put housing into the open market. The first idea came from the 15th Congress of China Communist Party who called for the set up of the City and Town Habitation Development Reserve and for speeding up the Housing System Reform. Since every region has difference conditions, the premier’s office instructed each province to develop a plan. The Jiangsu Provincial Government and the Nanjing City Government developed plans according to their local conditions by December 31, 1998. In the transition stage, they did the following.
1. Set up a housing development reserve. Increase the employee’s salary a part for purchasing housing. Amount of salary as the increment should be saved. As the same amount should be saved by the employer for his employee at the same time.
2. Set up a low-accrual loan for purchase housing. It can be returned in ten years.
3. Set up a subsidy for low-income people. If any family’s income is lower than the lowest standard, and the area of his house is less than the lowest standard. He can purchase one low price house, special built with a subsidy.
4 Have all the welfare housing with a low rent sold to the occupant at a rebate price, according to the user’s age, length of employment, duty of job, the quality and location of the house, age of the house, the family size, etc.
5 Set up and improve a second hand housing market.
6 Increase the produce of housing for market and improve the management of land and building market, consequently lowering the price.
7 Support the low rent housing for lowest-income family.
The summary programme of the housing system reform is the following. To change the welfare housing arrangement into money in salary by the following steps
Step 1. In 1998 encourage housing purchase by the way of
1 The subsidy of purchasing house deals with the length of employment. It is 0.6% for every year of employment before 1992.
2 The subsidy of purchasing house deal with the duty area standard, it was 16% in 1998.
3 A rebate if the total price of the house is paid at one time.
At the same time on the other side, increase the rent of housing.
Step 2. In 1999 abolish the rebate used in 1998, and increase the housing price step by step by decreasing the subsidy every year, while increasing the rent of house again one by one years on the other side.
Step 3. In 2000, to abolish the welfare housing arrangement in general. The majority will buy housing with money from their salary, the housing development reserve, loans for private housing and some subsidy. The rent will continue to increase to a reasonable level.
Table 3: Housing Provision Rule in Act No. 278 year 1998 in Nanjing
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Family income type</th>
<th>Degree (RMB)</th>
<th>Housing provision</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Lowest income</td>
<td><140/month person</td>
<td>Low rent housing</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Low or middle income</td>
<td>>140/-50,000/year family</td>
<td>Low price housing or ordinary housing</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>More income</td>
<td>>50,000/year family</td>
<td>Housing over standard</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 4: The Housing Area Standard for Duty Subsidy in Act No. 278 year 1998
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Degree of duty</th>
<th>Area with subsidy (m2)</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Staff and common officer</td>
<td>75</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>'ke' degree, department of country officer</td>
<td>90</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>'chu' degree, country degree officer</td>
<td>110</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>'ting and ju' degree, bureau in city or province officer</td>
<td>135</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Analysis
The first project was designed for provincial government officers. They can get a bigger housing with a higher standard. Their area of apartment units including not only all these in the old standard as table 1, but also a living room about 15-25m². But it is lower than the new standard for duty subsidy in Act No.278 year 1998.
The second project was designed in 2001. Before the assignment file, or the demand document of a design competition was issued, the Nanjing Urban Planning Bureau had made a Zoning Plan of this area in 2000, as a by-law, named Mendong District Controlling Plan in Nanjing.
After the reform of the housing policy, the standard and the unit types were changed by the market. The needs of buyers have become varied, from less than 50 m² for low-income family to over 200 m² for high-income family. And not only apartments but also villas are on sale.
About 20 years ago, people all were poor, with a low living standard and in simple, identical living modes. If there was a redevelopment to improve the building for social reasons, under the old system, people living there could get new housing that met the basic housing need at that time. The new house was better than the old one of most of people in all of quantity, quality, basic technical infrastructure and function. So people enjoyed the old order of redevelopment at that time.
As the result of the 20 years Reform and Open Movement, following the improvement in living standards in recent years, many people became richer and wanted better houses, above the standard set previously. And different people have
different incomes, different family conditions and different individuality just like the increased variation in life styles, the housing requirements are also different. According to the early changes in the housing market, the city government changed the rules for redevelopment last year. This is a significantly improved policy. It has people’s acceptance and has improved the activity of housing market.
Accomplishments and Weaknesses
The experience of the Reform of Housing Frame in Town and City, in fact, is the course of giving some estate from government finance, in state owned, to citizen, in private, and then unloading the heavy burden of providing and maintaining so much estate state owned that over the ability. In this course the housing market got active; the GDP was improved by the industry of housing construction; and the most considerable accomplishment is most of the families living in town and city solved the serious shortage of housing in a long time, especially in the large cities such as Shanghai, Nanjing etc. But on the other side, some of low-income family have not got the solution of housing shortage especially those working in a slack factory state owned. The states of the difficulty in habitation are in different degrees and the requirements of solution plan are different as well. The families to which the low price housing should be provided can be divided to four kinds, by distinguishing the low-income from the middle-income families and by distinguishing those with serious difficulty finding housing from those with sub-standard housing.
Actors
The roles of actors in housing are so various that we have to describe and analyse all sorts of the actors one by one.
Actor 1 – The Client
The clients of the first project are the officers or the staff of the provincial government office. They got welfare housing at a low rent, of a higher standard than most of the people. It is about from 65 to 95 m². Housing was allocated according to a system. They were offered a house according to the person’s duty or job, the family conditions, age and the length of employment, etc.
The clients of the second project are from the open housing market. If the owner of an old house in this district wants to buy a new house there, he can get a subsidy.
Actor 2 – The Project Manager
The project manager in the first project was the Jiangsu Province Administration Business Bureau, in charge of offering and arranging housing used by the provincial government officers and staff. It is a government authority. It has a branch office named Construction Office, as a project manager. It got the money for housing from a government budget, according to the need of their clients. It paid the architecture office, applied for the permit of city authorities concerned, paid the construction company, arranged the construction site, accepted the housing constructed and then allocated it.
The project manager in the second project is the Qinghuai District Urban and Town Construction Comprehensive Development Company, a business company belonging to the Government of Qinghuai District, one of the six urban districts in Nanjing. It operates not only under the orders of market but also under administrative directives from the District government.
Actor 3 – The Authorities
In Nanjing, there are many authorities concerned with housing, e.g.: Construction Committee, to approve the project document, to receive the fee from the developer for civil basic service investment, to issue the building permit, and to coordinate investments of service companies, like Power Support Bureau, Water Support Company, Gas Company, Telecommunication Bureau, etc.
Many developers are discontent against the fee. This fee came from the old development system people used to. As you know, before the Reform and Open movement, upon the Soviet socialism order, our government keep a low tax, low budget and a low GNP. At the beginning of opening the building market, there were not enough money to prepare the land for development, and the road and other civil
Habitation in Nanjing
basic service. The land was sold unready and with people living there. The city government had to set up the road, bridge, power, gas and water etc. As one of the major source of the investment, the fee issued.
Although this money have the city government construct lots of civil service project important, it increase the housing cost and price in Nanjing inconsequently. **Project Plan Committee**, to approve the project document concerning the financial and budget plan.
**Urban Planning Bureau**, to issue ‘two permits and one book’ of construction or development project according to the Urban Planning Law, by-law, and City Planning. The ‘one book’ is the Judgement of Location about Site of Construction and Development Project. One of the ‘two permits’ is the Permit by Urban Planning about Land use for Construction and Development Project. Another is the Permit by Urban Planning about Construction and Development Projects.
The duty of the bureau before issuing the permit, includes:
1. To issue the Demand Document of Planning Design.
2. To review the plan designed by the architecture office, and to check the approval of other authorities, such as the fire-brigade, power support, water purveyance, gas support, drainage management, telecommunication, education, etc. And then:
- If the plan does not meet the requirements of planning or other authorities, it should be modified according to the Review Judgement.
- If the plan is suitable, the Review Judgement is issued to accept the plan and design the construction drawings.
3. Review the drawing and check the certificate from Construction Committee that the fee is paid for civil basic service investment. If all right, the permit should be issued.
**Land Bureau**, to collect the land use fee, to record the right to land use of building in the project, then to issue the Land Use Ownership Certificate of each building.
**Building Bureau**, to record the ownership of building in the project, to issue the Ownership Certificate of each building, and then to oversee the Housing Market.
**Municipal Service Bureau**, to manage basic urban services, such as roads, river sides, power support, water purveyance, gas support, drainage management, etc.
**Actor 4 – The Builders**
Considering the 20 years Economical Construction Reform, more and more farmers are leaving their rural land. They enter the city for jobs and to make money. Most of them find work in construction, and most employees in most of the construction companies come from the countryside, except those who build the important and high-technology buildings. They work hard, earning a low salary, resulting in lower construction costs. Because of the over-population in rural areas, the companies consisting of farmers have to face great competition. Lots of them have to invest money themselves into a project in order to get the project, and the project management always pays the cost later.
The construction companies made up of farmers have an active role in the housing market. They lower the cost of housing, but at the same time there is a need to train these new workers, because of the low quality of their product.
**Actor 5 – The Designer**
The Designer including the urban planner and the architect, play an important actor in habitation. Planners used to be employed by governments and big companies. They designed not only in general planning of city but also in zoning planning and some constructive detail planning just before a project design.
In front of both two projects in this paper there are constructive detail planning, even more the zoning planning. For detail seeing the next chapter–Design
Design
Description of Project 1 - Housing in Longjiang Residence District
Longjiang Residence District is in the west of Qinghuai River—parts of the city river in Nanjing, and the opposite of the old city wall—famous in the world for his size (more than 32 km) and his age (in the early of Min Dynasty, about 700 hundred years old). It is in the lower land of Qinghuai Delta, about 80 Ha in area. In the middle of 1980’s, there were never whole site for residence district inside the city wall and the near suburban district with better conditions of groundwork following the development of Nanjing. So the city government had to choose this delta area as the new residence site under the large press of housing shortage in Nanjing, although this area was said not suitable for building and planned as an agricultural area before.
As the first project in the West of Qinghuai River, the city government had to invest for a new bridge, roads and other basic urban services. This choice changed the land use planning so that there was not enough urban planning reserve when I received the role of project design. My architecture office had to revise the design plan so much times before the beginning of construction in 1991. In this residence district, there are one district degree community service centre and three residence zones. And the total building areas are about 800,000 m². In the centre, there are some public buildings including commercial buildings, service buildings and cultural buildings, the gymnasium, the centre of the elderly and a park over 50,000 m². In these three residence zone there are two middle schools, three grammar schools and five kindergarten. One of the three residence zones in the southeast was used for building houses for officers working in provincial government, and the total area of these houses is about 200,000 m².
Now, I’m not interested in the urban planning in this district, but will focus on the housing state in there. As an example of that time let us see one house following:
These apartments were designed according to the requirements of the Jiangsu Province Administration Business Bureau. For the middle degree officers, named ‘Chu’ and ‘Ting’, the smaller is 65 m², the bigger is 95 m². Each family can get a small room in the semi-under ground floor about 10 m² for parking their bicycles and as storeroom. And two terraces both in south and north are prepared for each family.
Description of Project 2 - Housing in Mendong Residence District
Background of the Politics Requirement and the Context Venation of Culture and Nature
The Mendong district, is located in the southeast of the old Nanjing City, to the east of the famous door of Ming Dynasty City Wall—named Zhonghuamen now and Jubaomen in antiquity. Keeping a typical frame of the old city in Ming and Qing Dynasty, the indigene people of Nanjing have been living there hundreds of years. They speak the dialect of Nanjing, and are called ‘the old Nanjing’s men’
The area of the district from the North, the road Changle to the South, the Ming City Wall, and from the East, the road Jiangning which nearby the Ming City Wall, to the west, the Inner Qinghuai River are about 92 Ha, and 43 Ha should be redeveloped. 7600 families live there. It is one of the few traditional old city districts have not been redeveloped.
For its long history, in there the famous Qinghuai River, the Castle of Zhonghuamen—a urn wall for door of Ming city wall’s, and the wall itself, some old house buildings with traditional culture and some old streets in traditional style are full filled the venation of culture and nature. But for lots reasons, there were few change in half a century, it is behind the other areas in Nanjing. The function and construction are in recession. With a large population, a narrow streets and weak basic urban service, lots of the buildings are over the use time with some dangerous potentially. The problem between development and defence are more and more. The expectations of improving the condition of housing are stronger and stronger from people. As a politics requirement, the city government decide to renew or redevelop this region at once even though they have not enough money now to get a higher
Habitation in Nanjing
As the income of the majority of people living here is lower in our city, two subventions will give them when they buy the new house in this residence:
1. 500 RMB for every m² of the old house they lived.
2. 3000 RMB per family for waiting the new house.
The Mendong District Controlling Planning in Nanjing
To actualize the General Planning in Nanjing and the District Planning, and to balance the environment protect and the economical development and the social need, according to the requirement of city government, to direct the redevelopment better, the control planning like a zoning planning was issued in 2000.
This planning including three parts: the document, the picture and the annexe, are used as a by-law in Nanjing. In the plan, we decided to divide the district into four zones:
1. The zone of reappearing the traditional housing style, confining the height of building lower than 9m.
2. The zone of style harmony, confining the height of building lower than 15m.
3. The zone of redevelopment, confining the height of building lower than 33m.
4. And the zone of renew for the facade.
We also ruled the street style and wide, and the backward distance of building from the road. We decided that the land use should be rectified to increase the residence land and to decrease the industry land, and migrate out some population.
We emphasized the link between this region to the famous downtown-Fuzimiao (Confucian’s temple) both on the road and the river as well.
In the picture we zoned each plot of land for different use character and intension. The area of this planning is about 69.35 Ha. The major content are the following:
1. To restructure the land use in this region, to decrease the percentage of industry land, to intensify the function of residence, complete the community services.
2. To migrate out some population to improve the living situation.
3. To adjust the traffic net and improve the basic urban service to suitable the modern urban function and living support.
4. To intensify the planning control and the construction guidance of the open space along the Inner Qinghuai River and the green belt along the Ming Dynasty City Wall, in order to form a comfortable situation and landscape with context of history and culture.
5. To keep the feature of space form and placement conformation of the folk housing with a clear context.
ordinary floor plan
semi-under ground floor plan, a storeroom for each family
Figure 7 the floor plans, facades, and the sections of a housing in project 1.
Figure 8: The four zones with different height control: the umber, 9m; the yellow, 15m; the green, 33m; the blue, renew zone
Floor plan in 1 of the 'duoceng' project
floor plan in 2 of the 'duoceng' project
floor plan of high building
Habitation in Nanjing
Figure 9: some ordinary housing in project 2 designed under the rule of zoning planning
The Mendong Residence District Planning and Housing in It
Table 5 The total figure of the planning
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Category</th>
<th>Value</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Plots for redevelopment (zones of reppearing, harmony and redevelopment)</td>
<td>27.52Ha</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Area of building</td>
<td>417,927(M^2)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Area of housing building</td>
<td>401,316(M^2)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Building capacity Rate (Building area/Plots area)</td>
<td>1.52</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Building density (construction area/Plots area)</td>
<td>29.9%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Number of family</td>
<td>4143</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
The plot site plan was designed according to the zoning planning. I’m not going to cost too much size of letter for it. I’m just interested in the housing design:
1. Type of unit: according to the principle of design following life, zone the private space from the common in family clearly and be suitable to the function of family life. Discover the functional space potential, improve the situation quality indoor by placement fitment and basic services. In order to vary the style of architecture and suit the site shape, 22 kinds of apartment unit were designed there.
2. Housing groups: following the context of traditional folk housing, create some housing groups to get some sub-independent space quiet and comfortable.
3. Style: varied in plan and facade for weakening the feeling of scale and varying the style.
4. Colour and material: the use of black roof and white wall, and some symbol of traditional style.
5. Detail, indoor and outdoor–courtyard design etc.
Table 6 Situation of apartment units in Mendong residence District Planning
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>No.</th>
<th>Area (M²)</th>
<th>Useable area (M²)</th>
<th>of useable (%)</th>
<th>Number of units</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A</td>
<td>90.66</td>
<td>65.98</td>
<td>72.78</td>
<td>26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>B</td>
<td>112.34</td>
<td>85.07</td>
<td>75.73</td>
<td>4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>C</td>
<td>Ca 123.04</td>
<td>Ca 94.66</td>
<td>76.39</td>
<td>14</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>D</td>
<td>Da 84.06</td>
<td>Da 64.64</td>
<td>76.90</td>
<td>62</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>E</td>
<td>Ea 64.74</td>
<td>Ea 60.57</td>
<td>71.48</td>
<td>38</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>F</td>
<td>Fa 114.61</td>
<td>Fa 87.59</td>
<td>76.22</td>
<td>2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>G</td>
<td>Ga 112.99</td>
<td>Ga 85.12</td>
<td>75.33</td>
<td>12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>H</td>
<td>118.5</td>
<td>93.36</td>
<td>79.80</td>
<td>66</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>J</td>
<td>Ja 94.85</td>
<td>Ja 71.27</td>
<td>75.14</td>
<td>82</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>K</td>
<td>121.8</td>
<td>95.01</td>
<td>78.00</td>
<td>30</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>L</td>
<td>La 92.12</td>
<td>La 72.12</td>
<td>78.29</td>
<td>56</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>M</td>
<td>Ma 74.91</td>
<td>Ma 57.12</td>
<td>76.25</td>
<td>180</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>N</td>
<td>Na 91.85</td>
<td>Na 71.92</td>
<td>78.30</td>
<td>26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>O</td>
<td>66.84</td>
<td>50.0</td>
<td>76.21</td>
<td>10</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>P</td>
<td>Qa 113.58</td>
<td>Qa 94.88</td>
<td>83.54</td>
<td>33</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Q</td>
<td>Qb 119.13</td>
<td>Qb 96.65</td>
<td>81.13</td>
<td>34</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>R</td>
<td>90.66</td>
<td>90.66</td>
<td>90.66</td>
<td>34</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>S</td>
<td>Sa 137.3</td>
<td>Sa 114.8</td>
<td>83.61</td>
<td>10</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Some ordinary housing are there. Two of them are suitable for the zone of style harmony, with four or five floors. The other is used in the zone of redevelopment, with eleven floors. The plan was designed according to the study of major needs in market. The areas of units varied followed:
Table 7: areas of units in Figure 9
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Plan</th>
<th>Variety of area (M²)</th>
<th>Used in the zone of</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1 of ‘duoceng’</td>
<td>68, 74, 84, 92</td>
<td>style harmony</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2 of ‘duoceng’</td>
<td>86, 94, 118, 122</td>
<td>style harmony</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>High building</td>
<td>90, 98</td>
<td>redevelopment</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
* ‘duoceng’ means the apartment floors from 4 to 6 in Nanjing
Analysis
By the comparison of these projects, we can find:
The first, the areas of housing increased and the condition of live increased too.
Table 8: Comparison of housing situation
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Situation</th>
<th>Before redevelopment</th>
<th>Old standard</th>
<th>Project 1</th>
<th>Project 2</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Area of unit (M²)</td>
<td>35~65</td>
<td>65~95</td>
<td>68~122</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Num of toilet</td>
<td>In common</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>1 or 2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Room with window</td>
<td>B. K. and some D.</td>
<td>B. K. and some D. and W.C</td>
<td>B. K. and some L. and W.C</td>
<td>All the rooms except the second W.C</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Num of terrace</td>
<td>no</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>1 or 2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Tap Water</td>
<td>In common or family</td>
<td>Each family</td>
<td>Each family</td>
<td>Each family</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Power (220V)</td>
<td>5A or common</td>
<td>5A</td>
<td>10A</td>
<td>10 or the more</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>gas</td>
<td>no</td>
<td>Some</td>
<td>Each family</td>
<td>Each family</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Telephone interface</td>
<td>no</td>
<td>no</td>
<td>To the door of each family</td>
<td>To the door of each family</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
The second, we can find that the preparation of urban planning before a project design was more sufficient in project 2 than that in project 1.
And the third, the shortage of budget, and keeping the balance of social, economic and the environment, especially for those lowest-income people, are both existing in the two projects.
Conclusions and Recommendations
We have got so much success in housing. Known from the report from Nanjing Construction Committee, from 1996 to 2000, 1.55 million m² housing was built. The residence area personal increased from 8.1 m² in 1995, to 9.7 m² in 2000. And 85% people lived in unital housing till 2000. Mr. Xie, the chief of the Department of Estate in Construction Ministry, said just in Nanjing in 2001 that:
1 The investment in estate development is 500 billions (RMB) in 2000, and 330 inside is for housing, growth 28%
2 The house was sold for 295 billions (RMB), 35% growth, and 87.5% was sold to private personal purchase
3 Loan for housing purchase is 200 billions (RMB) in 2000, it is 74 billions (RMB) in 1999
4 The second-hand housing market is beginning and developed in Shanghai city
5 The standard of quality rose
6 The services after-sale developed, etc.
But there are some things that are not satisfactory, such as the programme of how to solve the house shortage of lowest-income people. It is because of the inertia of the old housing system and socialism principle. Even in the new rule of housing we cannot quantify the area of housing from buyer’s income, but fix with the social degree’s standard, although this standard is referred to the housing building cost in their regions.
Another one is to improve the work of budget in both the planning and the designs. Redevelopment in the old city is expensive with the preservation of the historical culture legacy and the environment requirement. If the government or someone could not put in enough money subsidy, the goal of environment should have to be decreased, and the worth of history be damaged to get the balance of money of developer. If we can bear the press of society to delay the redevelopment may be one way, in order to amass money enough. Otherwise we should have to decrease the order of environment. It is why the rule about the population in Mendong District plan had to over the by-law at last.
We must do the work better of balance the three kind of efficiency, such as the society, economy and the environment. We should find a way in the redevelopment in old city especially in that area there is lot of culture left. Means how to use the economical rule to run the redevelopment with environment protection. E.g. we can prepare some lands for development as a return to this company who is going to
Lu Xiaoning
redevelopment the old regions with a higher environment requirement like Mendong District.
Another work should be done is set and improve the second hand housing market. In this case we can increase the variety of the source of housing market. The owner of lower-standard house may sell out their house on the price of market, then with a little more money buy a bigger one to improve his habitation situation. By the way the old house which smaller or lower standard can be offered to the low-income people to buy or rent.
There are some successful experience in Shanghai city in this way. In 1991, when the reform of housing system was beginning in Shanghai, the problem of housing shortage is the most serious in all the cities in China. People in Shanghai used to say they have to live in the shell of shellfish. But now 2millions families, about 93%, have buyed the house for themselves. For example, Mr. Zheng built the old Felware housing he lived for many years by 13,000RMB in 1995 in the price with subsidy of reform of housing, and became a owner of estate. In 2000, Zheng sold this house second hand in the price of 190,000 RMB. Then he borrowed 100,000 RMB housing loan in 10 years, plus 100,000 RMB saved himself. The total cost was 390,000RMB for a new house about 106m² with living room, dining room and two bedrooms.
We should also distinguish the tax from fee regional and unnecessary, so as to decrease the cost and then the price of housing in Nanjing. Today, the price of house in Nanjing is one of these highest cities, followed Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou and Shenzhen. But the living level or standard are lower than these cities, not in the same level yet.
We will subdivide these families of housing shortage. At first we must solve the habitation problem of these people with serious difficulty both in income and in housing situation, before improve those only lower than the housing standard or middle-income people. We are going to build some low price housing in some suburban district with free tax and fee, about 1,300 RMB/m². Now the price on average in China is about 1,951 RMB/m². ‘the Rule to Offering House to Lowest Income People in Nanjing’ is going to issue in this year.
For the all of the habitation in Nanjing, there is a long march we should to go.
References
Nanjing Urban Planning Bureau
Architecture Department of Southeast University
Nanjing City Government
Jiangsu Province Government |
Knotation: Exploring and Documenting Choreographic Processes
Marianela Ciolfi Felice, Sarah Fdili Alaoui, Wendy E. Mackay
LRI, Univ. Paris-Sud, CNRS, Inria, Université Paris-Saclay
F-91400 Orsay, France
{mciolfi, saraloui, mackay}@lri.fr
ABSTRACT
Contemporary choreographers often interact directly with dancers when exploring their ideas, but lack adequate tools for capturing and documenting their work. Although our first study of choreographers and dancers revealed diverse strategies for recording choreographic fragments, we found that they all worked in terms of constraints, which they represented via spatial diagrams, as movement qualities or with their own personal notation system. This led to the design of Knotation, a mobile pen-based tool that lets choreographers sketch their own representations of choreographic ideas and render them interactive. In study two, Knotation served as a technology probe to support the contrasting practices of three professional choreographers. We revised Knotation based on their input, and ran a third structured observation study with six professional choreographers. Knotation easily supported both dance-then-record and record-then-dance strategies. Participants used and appropriated Knotation’s advanced features, including the combination of interactive timelines and floorplan diagrams, to represent and explore complex choreographic structures.
ACM Classification Keywords
H.5.2 [User Interfaces]: Evaluation/methodology, Prototyping, User-centered design
Author Keywords
Choreography; Creativity Support; Technology Probes; Sketch-based Interaction; Pen-based Interaction; Tablets
INTRODUCTION
When creating a dance piece, choreographers start from a particular stimulus, from which they develop a generative idea to explore [38]. From this point on, each path is unique, with nearly as many approaches as professional choreographers.
The choreographic creative process is both interactive and iterative: Schiporst et al. [38] describe how each choreographer “interacts with the idea, shaping it and being influenced by it, in a cyclic evolutionary process.”
Our previous study [12] of contemporary choreographers found that, even though each choreographer’s creative process is unique and changes over time, they all define choreographic objects, which represent their ideas at different levels of abstraction, and combine them with operations, such as reordering elements and establishing transitions. Choreographers explore these concepts in their minds and with the dancers’ bodies, but also generate artefacts, including inspiring images, annotated sketches, and video clips of dance fragments.
Choreographers lack a common method for representing dance. Instead, they rely primarily on their individual and collective memory to link their ideas and document their work. Formal systems such as Laban [30] or Benesh [4] notations are used mostly by big dance companies who can afford a full-time notator. Contemporary choreographers rarely use these systems, because they are designed to document finished work and are cumbersome to deploy, thus not suitable for early exploration phases. According to Heyward [25]: “Dance notation is arcane, and mostly inessential to the art of dance.” Choreographers often capture intermediate phases of their work with video. However, few incorporate interactive technology as a fundamental part of their creative process, even those who use motion capture or interactive sound and visuals as part of their work.
We are interested in designing interactive digital tools that support both idea exploration and early-stage documentation for choreographic composition. We first review related work and then report results of a day-long observational study of dancers and choreographers. We introduce Knotation v1 and present a study of three choreographers who used it as a technology probe [27]. We then describe Knotation v2 with our findings from a structured observation of six choreographers. We conclude with directions for future research.
RELATED WORK
A variety of tools have been created to support augmented sketching for design, education and general-purpose notetaking. In the context of choreography, researchers and practitioners have introduced new technologies to augment, annotate and archive choreographers’ final work.
Augmented sketching and note-taking
Among the extensive research in augmented sketching and note-taking, we focus on tools that let users add personal meaning to their sketches and notes, especially those that render sketches interactive, either through explicit actions by the user or by recognising objects from the user’s strokes.
Some tools focus on helping designers specify and refine their design ideas. SILK [31] lets designers sketch user interface elements with a pen or a mouse, for example, drawing a scroll bar that they can then interact with. Similarly, DENIM [32] is a pen-based system that supports early-stage web design. Web designers can sketch different interface components and transform them into working prototypes. DEMAIS [1] is a pen-based desktop tool that lets designers sketch interactive behaviour and generate interactive storyboards, which they can edit with a dedicated visual language. Gross and Do’s [23] pen-based system captures the vagueness and intended ambiguity in diagrams, in the context of creative design.
Moran et al.’s [33] pen-based techniques and Mynatt et al.’s Flatland [34] are among the earliest attempts to augment whiteboards, allowing office workers to organise notes and other information during meetings. Livenotes [28] was designed as a collaborative augmented note-taking tool for the classroom. A more recent example, InkAnchor [36], is a pen-based tool for informal note-taking with a mobile device. InkSeine [26] explored a pen-based approach for active note-taking, supporting searching and the incorporation of multimedia files.
We are particularly inspired by projects designed to support artistic practices such as contemporary music composition. For example, both Musink [42] and Paper Composer [21] let composers explore their ideas on interactive paper, using Anoto technology\(^1\). They can create personal musical symbols, notations and structures and link them directly to music composition software. Knotty Gestures [43] offers a minimalist technique for adding mathematical functions, audio and video recordings as well as other features to hand-drawn notes and sketches. Users simply draw a tiny circle or knot on any line, and select the desired function from a menu on an Anoto Livescribe pen. Although these and other related systems offer interesting possibilities, none are fully applicable to choreographic practice, which must capture movements of one or more dancers as they move through space over time, according to the underlying principles specified by the choreographer.
Augmenting the choreographic process
Professional choreographers and researchers explored new technologies to achieve various goals, including generating movement material and interacting with existing movement vocabularies. (See Fdili Alaoui et al. [19] for an extensive overview of systems that support choreographic composition.) One of the most well known is LifeForms [38, 7], designed in 1990 for the choreographer Merce Cunningham. He could select various body postures to simulate dance movements that could be combined to create new dance sequences.
More recent tools include iDanceForms [8], which generates new movements using a camera still frame technique, and Scuddle [9], which uses genetic algorithms to trigger unfamiliar and thus novel movement choices. The Choreographic Language Agent [11] provides a programming environment for exploring mappings between geometric visualisations and movement in the studio. Instead of prompting dancers with specific movement directions, dancers must solve generated choreographic problems by creating new movements.
Some technology supports dancers during performances. Hatwick et al.’s [24] family of digital musical instruments are worn as prosthetic extensions to dancers’ bodies, influencing both their movements and the resulting music. Fdili Alaoui et al. [18], together with the dance company Emio Greco|PC, created an interactive installation that incorporated visualisations of movement qualities developed by the company during their Double Skin/Double Mind workshop. Each of these interactive technologies can serve as a stimulus during the creation phase or for the final performance. Although they offer users with new choreographic possibilities, each was designed to support a particular choreographic approach or idiosyncratic vocabulary. The challenge remains: How can we design tools that support a wide range of choreographic practices?
Annotating choreographic artefacts
Today, most choreographers rely on a combination of paper sketches and video to capture their choreographic decisions. The Creation-Tool [6] runs on a tablet PC and is intended for use during rehearsals. The choreographer can record video of dance sequences, and annotate them with voice and hand-written notes. The Choreographer’s Notebook [40] offers similar functionality with a collaborative web-based tool. Choreographers and dancers can annotate video outside of rehearsals, which lets them conserve scarce resources. They can also document their choreographic process and revisit earlier choreographic choices. Rekall [2] is an on-line platform for the performing arts, where users can gather a variety of artefacts about a production (e.g. video, pictures, audio), organise it, annotate it, and compare it with other productions. This not only allows artists to preserve their work, but also enables researchers to identify patterns across multiple productions. Although each of these systems lets choreographers and dancers assemble and annotate their sketches, images and videos, none offers choreographers a higher level representation of the choreographic objects they develop for each piece.
Archiving Choreography
A major challenge is how to capture a choreographer’s finished work, so it can be archived and performed even after the choreographer is gone. Multiple initiatives have been launched to preserve contemporary choreographic knowledge, including Motion Bank\(^2\), IMK\(^3\), and Siobhan Davies Dance’s Digital Archive [17]. The Synchronous Objects [35] project provides on-line interactive documentation of William Forsythe’s One flat thing, reproduced, including interactive visualisations that
\(^1\)The Anoto pen’s camera captures gestures on paper printed with a computer-readable, human-invisible dot pattern. (www.anoto.com)
\(^2\)www.motionbank.org
\(^3\)insidemovementknowledge.net
play with specific choreographic elements, such as counterpoint, that inspire choreographers to generate new material. Both Synchronous Objects and Forsythe’s DVD Improvisation Technologies [20] – which includes visualisations of Forsythe’s vocabulary and material – were created from annotations, with the goal of documenting and reflecting on choreographic structures, such as alignment and cues between dancers.
Emio GrecoPC’s DVD Capturing Intention [16] documents choreographic material from the company’s Double Skin/Double Mind workshop, using descriptions, Laban and Benesh notations, demonstrative video clips and sound material. Ribeiro et al. [37] used 3D data capture to document choreographer Joao Fiãdeiro’s choreography, and worked with him to derive a set of concepts that later guided improvisation sessions and influenced visualisations of his creative process.
These systems focus on documenting the final outcome of a particular choreographer’s work, and, sometimes, the idiosyncratic nature of the choreographer’s individual creative process. We seek a more general approach that supports diverse choreographers, with diverse approaches, during early exploration and later documentation of the creative process.
STUDY 1: CHOREOGRAPHIC IDEAS ON PAPER
Before designing new tools for choreographers, we need to better understand how they explore ideas without interactive technology. We ran an observational study with choreographers and dancers where they captured their ideas on paper.
Participants
We recruited a professional male choreographer with 34 years of experience as the lead choreographer and four of his regular collaborators, all women, including two choreographers, one dance professor, and one dancer.
Setup
We reserved the lead choreographer’s normal rehearsal theatre. He had just begun a newly commissioned work, which served as the foundation for the day’s activities. We discussed the process with him, and he was free to propose specific exercises and determine the roles of the other participants. He decided that each dancer would create her own choreographic fragment individually. Together, we chose a set of activities that fit into his established work practice, while also providing data we could compare across participants.
Procedure
Each session lasts approximately four hours, including a working lunch break. The composition activity involves composing a choreographic fragment. The lead choreographer (LC) decides when to stop (approximately one hour). Participants capture the dance fragment on paper using A3 paper, coloured pens, highlighters, stickers, and post-it notes. The transformation activity involves transforming the choreographic fragment (approximately one hour). Participants choose a set of operations to apply to the fragment. We provide possible operations inspired by the framework in [12], including: sequence, reorder, reuse, vary speed, rhythm, energy, or spatial patterns, define transitions, add detail, and abstract a choreographic object, but LC is free to suggest alternatives. When LC asks the
dancers to stop, each updates her annotations. Participants are debriefed at the end of the session, and asked for explanations of their annotations from both activities.
Data collection
We recorded video and audio of the session and took pictures and hand-written notes.
Data analysis
We analysed our notes, photographs, videos, and participants’ explanations of their annotations to identify which aspects of the choreographic fragments they captured and how they were represented. We looked for both common patterns and unique annotation practices.
RESULTS AND DISCUSSION
The LC brought images as a creative stimulus and showed participants a set of eight words to inspire sculpture-like body postures, with the constraint of finding linear, fluid transitions between them. He asked each participant to create her own choreographic fragment. During the composition activity, each participant performed her choreographic fragment in turn, based on the LC’s directions. During the transformation activity, the LC asked participants to focus on repetition as a key operation for transforming their fragments. One participant joined the session late, when the others were about to annotate their fragments, so she captured hers without dancing it first. The LC remarked that writing the movement had an impact in the way she moved, “especially in the use of space and orientations”. Interestingly, the LC only took notes about the fragments while the participants were performing.
Choreographic objects
As in [12], we found that all participants represent their choreographic ideas by defining choreographic objects at different levels of abstraction and detail, which they illustrate with a combination of sketches, text, symbols, and diagrams. For example, some participants drew floorplans (diagrams that represent spatial trajectories, as seen from above), focusing on the displacement of the body with respect to the stage. They also sketched different body postures, which let them focus on the details of a particular moment of the fragment (Fig. 1).
Although LC created the higher-level choreographic object (here, the eight sculpture-like postures) the participants all
composed their own individual variations, at varying levels of detail. Their sketches each contained different subsets of choreographic elements. For example, only P2 (dancer) represented movement duration in her floorplan, and only P4 (choreographer and dancer) considered music and lights.
Personal sublanguages
One participant (P1, dance professor and dancer) had already created her own personal sublanguage, which she used to represent movement, including spins and shifts in weight or direction (Fig. 2). The other participants created their own ad-hoc sublanguages during the activity. All four participants created legends to explain their symbols.
Different representations of choreographic objects
All participants annotated movement qualities, i.e. the qualitative attributes and characteristics of movement [5]. For example, P1 and P2 mapped symbols to personally meaningful words: P1 described movements as “tight - contracted” whereas P2 used “uneven” or “dented”. Most participants (3/4) annotated “movement intentions”, with differing levels of detail and type of representation (symbols and words). All recorded transition speeds, but in idiosyncratic ways. For example, P4 used words related to speed (e.g. “very fast”); others assigned specific symbols. All but one participant (3/4) specified “levels”, i.e. the height a movement is performed with respect to the floor, and used symbols, text or both to specify rotation, body orientation, or gaze direction.
All participants created floorplan diagrams for the sculpture-like postures, with transitions among them. Each participant created different line styles to uniquely represent transitions. For example, P3 (choreographer and dancer) added complex symbols representing qualities and intentions for each transition (Fig. 1). Interestingly, although P2 drew lines to show transitions, she left trajectories “free”, but constrained movement qualities and “moments of transformation”. Her lines indicated movement duration, rather than a concrete spatial trajectory. Diverse techniques for representing postures in floorplans included: numbers (P1, P3), coloured-dot stickers (P2), and crosses (P4). Participants also found diverse ways to draw and annotate postures: P2 specified body part positions with symbols indicating the main movement quality, P3 wrote keywords, and P4 sketched minimalist postures inline with text descriptions.
Participants often created multiple representations of the same choreographic object. P1’s posture sketches included a symbol for the main quality, with arrows to indicate gaze direction and the intended movement of each arm and foot. Yet her diagram marked only arm and foot positions, or sometimes a single arm for a particular posture, because she wanted to emphasise that “it was extended”. She produced multiple views of the same object, from different perspectives (above versus front), and at different levels of detail (position of the whole body versus arms and feet).
Diversity in annotating operations
Participants found different ways to capture repetition: P1 placed an asterisk next to each repeated part, with a more detailed view below (Fig. 2). P2 either wrote a number to specify the number of times or a symbol to indicate randomness. P3 listed movement sequences, including the number of repetitions (Fig. 1), and P4 created a new diagram that incorporated her modifications of the first fragment, making explicit the changes from her original choreographic objects.
Rules behind the movement
Most participants annotated the rules that constrain and describe the movement in their fragments, rather than the movement itself. In fact, P2 referred to her legend as a “panel of possibilities” from which “it is possible to choose”.
Summary
We observed considerable variability in how participants represent choreographic objects and operations, even given the same initial constraints (eight words to inspire eight postures, with linear transitions between them). Participants also varied greatly in their choice of which aspects to capture for each fragment. Even so, several common features emerged: All participants specified movement speed and movement qualities; all drew spatial diagrams (floorplans); and all sketched rules and constraints with respect to the movements, using a combination of sketches, personal sublanguages, diagrams, and text.
DESIGNING KNOTATION V1
In previous research [12], we argue that choreographers’ tools should support free sketching, integrated images and video, and multiple representations and views of choreographic objects. Choreographers should be able to draw the overall structure of a piece, and transition easily between abstraction and detail. The results of Study 1 suggest that choreographers want to express choreographic concepts in terms of both space and time, and to represent movement in terms of constraints, through combinations of drawings, text and numbers.
Meaning should emerge during the choreographic process: Choreographers must be able to modify the meaning of particular choreographic objects, delay decisions, and freely explore different combinations. Rather than forcing choreographers to follow a particular approach or interrupting their creative flow, our goal is to help them create and interact with their own representations. This follows Shneiderman’s design principles
We introduce Knotation, which builds on the minimalist approach of Knotty Gestures [43] to add interactive functionality to the choreographer’s sketches. However, instead of interactive paper, Knotation runs on Apple’s iPad Pro™, which can be easily brought into the dance studio. Choreographers can incorporate live pictures and video, as well as pre-recorded material. They can sketch, link and interact with their own choreographic structures and notations with the Apple Pencil™. The goal is to provide an open-ended, easy-to-use system that supports the early phases of choreographic exploration and documentation.
**Figure 3. Knotation v1:** Knot attached to a zigzag trajectory. Tapping the knot reveals three attributes: quality, energy and speed. Here, the knot defines a ‘percussive’ quality, with a slider to indicate speed.
Everything the user draws with the pen is considered a choreographic object. Users can add functionality to these sketches by placing the pen on the surface and dwelling, which produces a small dot or knot. Knots can be created in the flow of writing or drawing, at the beginning, middle or end of any pen stroke. Users can add interactive features by tapping a knot and selecting the desired function. Knots are first-class objects that can be moved, cloned, edited, or deleted.
Knots can have multiple attributes (speed, energy, unison, and quality), whose values are set via a controller (a number, a slider, or text). Fig. 3 shows a knot where the user assigned a text controller to the quality attribute and typed “percussive”, and added a slider controller to the speed attribute. To reduce visual clutter, the attributes assigned to a knot only appear when the user interacts with it.
The user can link a knot to any image or video file in the photo library. For example, a choreographer might want to sketch a floorplan and attach a rehearsal video of the corresponding section of the piece. The user adds a knot to the border of the floorplan, and links it to the video file. The user can then play the video by tapping on the knot; a second tap causes the video frame to disappear. The user can reposition both videos and images by dragging-and-dropping with the finger, and adjust the size with a pinch gesture.
**Knotation v1** provides the floorplans identified in Study 1, where users define movement through space using trajectories, and also introduces timelines to let them define temporal sequences. Users define floorplans and timelines by attaching the corresponding type of knot to any type of line, including curves, circles and diagonal lines.
Users can also create portals that provide a link from the original choreographic object to a more detailed or more abstracted view of it. The user adds a portal knot and taps it to create a new canvas. The user can return to the original object by tapping on the portal knot that appears automatically at the top of the new canvas. Unlike other knots, cloning a portal does not generate a copy, but instead provides alternate access to the same object.
In summary, Knotation v1 should let choreographers:
- compose the space, time and structure of a piece by sketching floorplans with trajectories and timelines;
- create multiple views at different levels of abstraction and link them via portals; and
- represent movement constraints via attributes and controllers.
**STUDY 2: KNOTATION V1 AS A TECHNOLOGY PROBE**
Study 1 examined how contemporary choreographers and dancers define their choreographic ideas on paper. We introduced Knotation v1 as a technology probe [27] with three choreographers, which let us observe how they express these ideas and make them interactive. Study 2 extends our understanding by focusing on the capture of inspiring practices and cases of appropriation, as well as triggering and discussing ideas with participants.
**Participants**
We recruited three professional choreographers (two men, one woman), with four to 34 years of experience. All use one or more of the following to record their work: paper, video, word processing, and graphical editing tools. One participant was the lead choreographer from Study 1. One researcher is also a trained dancer/choreographer and served as a volunteer dancer.
**Hardware and Software**
Knotation v1, described above, runs on a 12.9” iPad Pro™ running iOS 10.2, with an Apple Pencil™ input. Knotation v1 is implemented in Swift 3 and uses Apple’s AVKit and AVFoundation frameworks to manage video (in particular, the AVPlayer controller object). It relies on default gesture recognisers to handle user input from fingers or the pen, to recognise tap, pan, pinch, and long-press gestures. We use two ad-hoc gesture recognisers: one for panning with the pen, which generates drawn strokes and one for long-pressing (which creates a knot).
**Setup**
We ran each session in a local dance studio, which had chairs, a bench and a table. Participants could use the tablet in any position, including standing up, on the floor, or on a table.
**Procedure**
Each session lasts approximately two hours. Participants receive a live, 2.5-minute scripted demonstration of Knotation v1’s basic functionality. Next, they play with the tool until they feel comfortable, up to 5 minutes. The researchers answer any questions regarding the available functionality. Activity 1 involves composition of a short choreographic fragment for
We identified two contrasting strategies among participants. We placed a camera on a tripod behind each participant to focus either on concrete movements or on the rules that involved transformation of the composed fragment for about 30 minutes. Participants may define transitions, reorder parts, structure the fragment, etc. The session concludes with a 15-minute debriefing session, followed by a 10-minute interview.
Data collection
We placed a camera on a tripod behind each participant to record video and audio of each session, and also took pictures, close-up videos, and written notes.
Data analysis
During the debriefing, we asked participants to explain each choreographic object. We analysed our notes, pictures, and videos, in order to find common patterns across participants, capture inspiring practices and identify examples of appropriation that might trigger new design ideas.
RESULTS AND DISCUSSION
Contrasting user strategies: Movement versus constraints
We identified two contrasting strategies among participants who focused either on concrete movements or on the rules that define them. P3 documented the particular movements he had composed, through video and textual notes. By contrast, P1 only documented and transmitted the constraints the dancers had to meet in order to perform the fragment. P2 did both: He manipulated video knots from the choreographic fragments he recorded, and played with attributes to capture the rules behind them.
During the composition activity, P1 asked four research team members to serve as volunteer dancers. She explained her main choreographic object: Two dancers form a “wall” by moving sideways along a diagonal, while the other two close their eyes and move, with the “follower” trying to mirror the movements of the “leader”. She then filmed the dancers performing the fragment. Finally she used Knotation v1 to create an alignment relationship between the two “wall” dancers (Fig. 4). She drew a diagonal line with arrows to indicate the possible directions of the movement, but did not define the concrete trajectories that the dancers had to follow. She also drew a “plane” of dots at both sides of the diagonal, to indicate the area in which the other two dancers were allowed to move.
User strategies vary according to the type of piece
One participant adopted two distinct strategies for recording ideas, according to the type of piece. At the beginning of the session, P3 worked on a fragment of a contemporary dance piece he was revising. He used Knotation v1 to create an “index” or overview of the piece, which consisted of a vertical list of textual elements corresponding to each part of the choreography. He marked several phrases to help him remember the details. He created one knot per item and per transition and then filmed several elements which he linked to the knots. He considered defining his “index” as a timeline, but decided against it, remarking that it was more of an “ordering” than a timeline.
When he began annotating a tango fragment, P3 changed his approach, switching to his own formal notation and video knots to annotate the phrases. His system [41] represents each tango step as a symbol. Both partners use the same score: The leader reads the string of symbols from left to right, and the follower stands in front and reads them from right to left.
Using Knotation for improvisation and transmission
P3 appropriated Knotation v1 in a creative way: He asked the dancer, who had never danced tango, to perform several phrases with him, holding the iPad between them. He then wrote a symbol for each step, which they read in silence as they performed, improvising the choreographic fragment.
Appropriating portals to define relationships
Instead of using portals to record additional detail about a choreographic object, P1 cloned them to establish a relationship between two dancers and indicate that they had to perform the same movement.
Triggering interaction ideas
Once their choreographic ideas became interactive, participants sought additional ways of interacting with them. For example, P3 suggested that, when attaching a video knot to a trajectory, the user could trace the trajectory with the pen to advance or rewind the video, which would link two views of the same choreographic object, one in 2D and the other in 3D. He also wanted to create his own toolbox of reusable instruments. For example, a triangular “focus tool” could be rotated to point in the desired direction.
Revealing the meaning of a knot
The knots in Knotation hid the details of their associated functionality to avoid cluttering the screen. However, participants wanted the opposite: to reveal their meaning. P1 wanted the knot to appear as an icon indicating its content, e.g. a video icon for a video knot. P2 and P3 wanted different colours for different types of knots, for easy identification.
4Kirsh [29] defines marking in dance as “executing a dance phrase in a simplified, schematic or abstracted form”.
Figure 4. Study 2: Representing constraints with Knotation v1 (P1).
We focused on turning floorplans and timelines into first-class tools. We observed diverse exploration and documentation strategies within this figure are considered. Knotnotation v1 made her "reflect on what is possible." He also added that "the tool could definitely help" him during his creative process, for example to create a "stable grid" to organise his work because otherwise he is "chaotic".
**Summary**
We observed diverse exploration and documentation strategies that captured only movement, only constraints, or a combination. Knotnotation v1 successfully supported this diversity across participants and when a single choreographer used different approaches for different dance genres. Once they were able to express their choreographic ideas in Knotnotation v1, they sought additional ways to interact with them. They appropriated the available functions, and proposed specific new features. Interestingly, participants wanted knots to reveal their characteristics, rather than just encapsulate functionality, which suggests they saw knots as a way to add personal meaning to their sketches.
Study 2 offered three types of results:
- **Empirical**: the introduction of the concept of typed knots to define floorplans and timelines encouraged participants to explore additional possibilities for expressing movement, constraints or both;
- **Design**: in addition to suggesting specific features such as colour and knot icons, participants sought to embed interactive constraints within their choreographic objects; and
- **Technical**: we identified bugs (which lead to an autosave feature), technical challenges (e.g. optimising stroke rendering) and ways to simplify common operations (e.g. deleting objects).
**ITERATING THE DESIGN: KNOTINATION V2**
The results of Study 2 influenced the design of Knotnotation v2. We focused on turning floorplans and timelines into first-class interactive objects, and permitting users to move or duplicate any object on the screen. We also added a number of features specifically requested by study participants.
Creating an interactive floorplan begins by drawing a closed area (within a certain tolerance) and attaching a floorplan knot. The border turns orange, indicating that the figure is now interpreted as an enclosed two-dimensional space. Any strokes within this figure are considered trajectories, which are also rendered in orange. Tapping on the floorplan knot animates each trajectory in the direction in which it was drawn.
Users can modify the speed of the trajectories by attaching a speed knot to the floorplan’s border, and either entering a numeric speed value or adjusting a slider. Alternatively, users can apply a duration knot to specify the duration of the trajectories. Knotnotation v2 calculates the speed of each trajectory in the floorplan such that they all finish at the same time. Since both speed and duration cannot be active at the same time in a given floorplan, only the attribute of the last attached knot is enabled; the others are greyed out.
Users can move floorplans, including any trajectories and knots, by dragging the border with their finger. Users can incorporate a set of strokes into a floorplan by dropping the floorplan over the strokes, which causes Knotnotation v2 to interpret them as trajectories. To extract the properties of a floorplan, users can drag the border, with attached knots, with two fingers. The associated trajectories are detached from the floorplan and become normal strokes, rendered in black. Users can create a reusable floorplan template by cloning its border. Knotnotation v2 clones its attached knots but not the interior trajectories.
Creating an interactive timeline consists of drawing a stroke of any shape and attaching a timeline knot, which turns the stroke violet. Users can then add any type of knot to the timeline. Tapping on the timeline knot displays the video knots in the order specified by the direction in which the timeline was drawn. The timeline plays the videos either at normal speed or at a speed determined by a speed knot.
Users can reorder, edit, clone, attach, detach or delete knots, even as the timeline plays. Users can create a new timeline by drawing a stroke over an existing set of knots and attaching a timeline knot to the stroke. As with floorplans, users can move timelines and their attached knots by dragging the timeline stroke.
Users can create reusable timeline templates by cloning the stroke. Users can then add new knots to the blank timeline, reusing its shape and speed. Fig. 5(a) illustrates how a single video knot can be attached to multiple timelines, which, for example, lets users explore different combinations of fragments in different orders.
Users can also combine floorplans and timelines into a single choreographic object, as shown in Fig. 5(b). Note that users are not limited to floorplans and timelines: Choreographers can create their own choreographic objects, with different characteristics. Knotnotation v2 supports both finger and pen interaction: The pen draws persistent strokes, whereas the fingers move sketched objects and access associated menus, via a long press. This avoids the need for a cumbersome, moded interaction. For reasons of precision, the pen can also drag knots and invoke their menus.
The following enhancements are directly based on participants’ feedback from Study 2:
- **coloured knots**, according to type;
- **icons** representing video and image knots;
- **dancer** knots, with optional names;
- **tags** for labelling knots;
• *relationship attributes* for specifying relative movement, with two examples: *mirroring*: when two groups of dancers mirror each others’ movements, and *unison*: when several dancers perform a movement simultaneously; and
• *version history* to revert to previous states [39].
**STUDY 3: KNOTATION V2 STRUCTURED OBSERVATION**
*Knotation v2* is designed to provide choreographers with a lightweight technique for quickly sketching choreographic ideas, capturing video examples, exploring constraints, and recording the result in a form that can be transmitted to dancers. We use structured observation [22], a quasi-experimental design [15] method that emphasises observing users as they perform realistic tasks in real-world settings, and making qualitative comparisons of the results. This supports ecological validity while allowing us to identify novel user behaviour and generate testable hypotheses.
**Participants**
We recruited six professional contemporary choreographers (5 women, 1 man), with a range of three to 47 (median 16) years of experience. P1 brought a fellow choreographer (P1C) and they worked as a team for each activity. One researcher is a trained dancer/choreographer who acted as a volunteer dancer. In their choreographic practice, all participants sketch on paper and use video to record themselves or dance rehearsals (although the latter is rare for P1). P3 and P5 also edit their videos. They all left their iPads on the floor or occasionally on their laps, picking them up only when they stood to capture a dance movement. During the *transmission* activity, participants gathered around the iPad on the floor to explain their compositions to each other. They pointed to their floorplans and timelines, played videos, gestured over the iPad, and occasionally marked specific movements. Next, we present two kinds of findings: insights about participants’ choreographic approaches, and insights about the use of *Knotation v2*.
**Data collection**
We placed a camera on a tripod in the corner of the studio to record each session. We also took close-up videos, photographs and hand-written notes, and logged the participants’ interaction with *Knotation v2*. We anonymised the data and refer to participants as P1-P6, and P1C.
**Data analysis**
We used thematic analysis [14] to code and categorise our notes, pictures, and videos. We also compared participants’ practices within and across activities.
**RESULTS AND DISCUSSION**
Most participants (5/6) shot video of their movements with the iPad; two participants (P3 and P4) also imported images. They all left their iPads on the floor or occasionally on their laps, picking them up only when they stood to capture a dance movement. During the *transmission* activity, participants gathered around the iPad on the floor to explain their compositions to each other. They pointed to their floorplans and timelines, played videos, gestured over the iPad, and occasionally marked specific movements. Next, we present two kinds of findings: insights about participants’ choreographic approaches, and insights about the use of *Knotation v2*.
**Diverse choreographic approaches**
*Dance-then-record versus Record-then-dance*
All participants successfully created a novel idea for their choreographic fragment, using personal composition strategies. For example, P1 started with two concepts – “the sane” and “the crazy” – and collaborated with P1C to write notes and sketch symbols with *Knotation v2*, as well as shoot six “elements”. Together, they experimented with changing the order and number of repetitions on a timeline.
We identified common approaches across participants (see Table 1). Two participants (P2, P4) used a “dance-then-record” approach, dancing first and then capturing the result with *Knotation v2* at the end. For example, P4 immediately started dancing and testing a variety of movements. After several minutes, she asked a researcher to record her as she danced each movement. She used *Knotation v2* only at the end to capture her fragment.
P3 used the opposite approach – “record-then-dance”. She sat on the floor thinking for several minutes, while using Knotation v2 to plan different combinations of trajectories and movements. She then asked the volunteer dancer to perform a set of “keyframes”, which she recorded with Knotation v2. The other participants (3/6) went back and forth between dancing and using Knotation v2.
After watching the Drumming Live video during the transformation activity, all participants used the same approach they had adopted for the composition activity. However, all spent considerably more time interacting with Knotation v2, to check their earlier content and explore various novel transformations.
Expressing different degrees of formality
Multiple participants said they explicitly chose a particular level of formality and detail to represent their choreographic objects. P4 said she was purposely imprecise when annotating her fragment and appreciated how Knotation v2 offered her various degrees of informality: “For me, since I love informal things, it works, but it also works for something more formal, more precise.” P1C also noted that it permits “being informal”, thus “stays open to interpretation”.
Integrating time and space with linked choreographic objects
One participant (P5) created a complex structure with floorplans and timelines to compose time and space. She drew one floorplan and timeline per dancer (see Fig. 6), with “properties” (e.g. unison relationships) that are read vertically as in a “rhythmic score”. This served as a “tool similar to the timeline”, “easily visible”, that reveals “what should happen at a given moment for each dancer” (P5). She created tagged knots and attributes for each timeline that indicated the scope of specific constraints over time (e.g. the direction of the dancer’s gaze). She also cloned portals to define “shared scores” for dancers at the proper locations on their timelines. In addition, she drew a curve over each timeline to represent the levels with respect to the floor. P5 thus created her own sophisticated structure for decomposing and combining the three spatial dimensions and time on a 2D surface.
Appropriating errors to discover interesting patterns
Some participants used errors to spark new ideas. P1 and P1C inadvertently linked several knots to the same video, which then led them to discover “interesting patterns” (P1C). P1C said that visualising the same element multiple times suggested new possibilities for interesting rhythms and dynamics, as well novel “extensions” to the element. P1C commented: “You don’t find that in the videos you shoot!”
Using Knotation v2
A quantitative analysis of the logs (see Table 1) reveals that P3, who used the record-then-dance approach, performed more than double the actions and created over three times as many knots as P2 and P4, the two dance-then-record participants. This correlation suggests a testable hypothesis: The record-then-dance approach is a cognitive-first strategy that favours a technology-mediated exploration of choreographic ideas, while the dance-then-record approach is a dance-first strategy where the technology supports documentation.
Assessing choices by interacting with choreographic objects
P3 and P4 emphasised the importance of expressing a range of interconnected ideas before making choreographic choices. We found that participants interacted with their choreographic objects, for example by playing or repositioning timelines and floorplans or refining their attributes, to consider alternatives. P1C described how she and P1 used timelines “to see the available choices” and suggested using Knotation v2 as a way of “validating things before testing them” in the studio. P5 liked to “see what were all the possibilities, because when you’re trying to write [a piece] on paper, you can’t pass from paper to video, or paper to duration”.
Table 1. Study 3: Number of actions and use of key features, grouped by choreographic approach.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>approach</th>
<th>id</th>
<th>actions</th>
<th>knots</th>
<th>attributes</th>
<th>TL</th>
<th>play TL</th>
<th>FP</th>
<th>play FP</th>
<th>portals</th>
<th>images</th>
<th>videos</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>record-then-dance</td>
<td>p3</td>
<td>1531</td>
<td>94</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>7</td>
<td>0</td>
<td>4</td>
<td>7</td>
<td>7</td>
<td>25</td>
<td>9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>mixed</td>
<td>p5</td>
<td>1142</td>
<td>77</td>
<td>21</td>
<td>7</td>
<td>0</td>
<td>9</td>
<td>53</td>
<td>7</td>
<td>0</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>p1</td>
<td>426</td>
<td>24</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>4</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>12</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>0</td>
<td>9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>p6</td>
<td>1294</td>
<td>41</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>9</td>
<td>0</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>50</td>
<td>3</td>
<td>0</td>
<td>0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>dance-then-record</td>
<td>p2</td>
<td>735</td>
<td>26</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>6</td>
<td>3</td>
<td>25</td>
<td>3</td>
<td>0</td>
<td>2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>p4</td>
<td>676</td>
<td>29</td>
<td>7</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>0</td>
<td>4</td>
<td>38</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>5</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Most participants (5/6) imported and played video. Interestingly, P5 played one video once, and experimented instead with attributes, controllers, floorplans and timelines, which let her focus on defining higher-level structures.
All participants created at least one timeline (mean: 4.3), although the dance-then-record participants only created one or two. Surprisingly, most participants (4/6) did not play their timelines, even though they added and removed knots from them multiple times. This suggests that they used timelines as a grouping mechanism, obviating the need to play videos in their final order. This is similar to how designers used the Stickylines [13] alignment and distribution instruments to group objects while structuring graphical layouts.
All participants created at least one floorplan (mean: 5.2) and interacted with floorplans considerably more frequently than with timelines (mean: 30.8). In particular, P5 interacted repeatedly with knots to establish speed and duration. Participants created from two to seven portals each. Although P3 and P5 created slightly more, we found no differences across strategies with respect to use of portals.
Appropriating floorplans and timelines
Participants found several creative new uses for floorplans and timelines. For example, P1 and P1C overlapped clips to make them appear as a single seamless video in the timeline. P2 drew short trajectories near, but just outside the border of a floorplan, to avoid animation and indicate that the dancer began and ended the sequence off stage. P3 used floorplans to define “keyframes” – diagrams showing each dancer’s location at a given moment as seen from above – and represented dancers with knots and transitions with lines. P6 went further, combining the concepts of floorplans and timelines: She drew a spiral-shaped timeline where the shape represented a spatial trajectory. She also redefined the meaning of trajectories within her floorplan. For example, she wrote five words with a corresponding set of symbols, one for each of five floorplans. These symbols represented trajectories “but not in a horizontal floorplan space” (P6).
Participants’ feedback
Participants highlighted how well Knotation v2 supported diverse choreographic processes. In particular, P3 noted that even though she and P4 used extremely different approaches, Knotation v2 supported them both. P4 emphasised that “it does not impose a method”, which she liked very much.
Participants liked Knotation v2’s ability to gather diverse material about a project. P1C said it was: “really interesting to be able to gather imagery easily, that is instantly playable, with your hypothesis of time and space”, and finds Knotation v2 “a file easy to rework, to be brought up again”. P1 liked that “instead of having fifteen thousand notes, you have it here all assembled”. P3 explained that, for her, there is a “time of creation” and a “time of technology”, and that “a tool like this allows you to join those times”. Interestingly, P4 suggested a new name (“Knotation”) to highlight its ability to collect knowledge about a piece. By contrast, P1 felt that having “so many possibilities” constantly “triggered new ideas” before he could process his previous ideas, so he “got entangled”.
Participants suggested a number of possible features, such as grouping timelines and floorplans. They also noted several limitations. P2 mentioned she wanted “to keep everything visible” but the screen size was an issue, although she noted “I have the same problem with the computer”. P3 wanted to use portals to visualise the tree-like structure of a piece, which we leave for future work.
Summary
Knotation v2 successfully supported participants with diverse choreographic approaches, including dance-then-record, record-then-dance or a combination of the two, without imposing a particular process. Participants could assign personal meanings to both their input and the system’s feedback, and change their minds over time. They could also choose their desired level of formality, from informal sketches to formal notations. The structured observation approach generated a testable hypothesis: A record-then-dance approach most enhances exploration of choreographic ideas, while a dance-then-record approach favours documentation.
Participants combined timelines and floorplans to represent their choreographic objects, including both simple and complex temporal and spatial structures. Interestingly, they appropriated their errors to explore novel choreographic patterns. Study 3 demonstrates the potential of Knotation v2 as a mobile tool for exploring and documenting choreographic ideas in a studio setting, and offers new insights into the choreographic creative process.
CONCLUSION AND FUTURE WORK
Our goal is to design interactive digital tools that support exploration and documentation of choreographic ideas, without enforcing a particular creative process. We began by observing a professional choreographer and several dancers, which highlighted both the diversity in how they represent choreographic fragments, as well as the need for capturing and annotating movement constraints. We designed Knotation, a mobile pen-based tool that offers a lightweight method for sketching choreographic ideas with embedded images and video. Users can sketch their own personal representations of the dance, and add various forms of interaction to further explore their ideas.
Using Knotation v1 as a technology probe revealed contrasting strategies for capturing movement, constraints, or both. Knotation v2 explicitly supports interactive timelines and floorplans, as well as incorporates participants’ suggestions. We then demonstrated how Knotation v2 successfully supported opposite choreographic approaches (dance-then-record and record-then-dance), and allowed users a wide range of expression, at varying levels of formality. In future, we plan to explore the collaborative potential of Knotation. Other promising directions include extending support for personal sublanguages; letting users create their own instrument palettes [3]; and assessing results with the Creativity Support Index [10].
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This work was partially supported by European Research Council (ERC) grant n° 321135 CREATIV: Creating Co-Adaptive Human-Computer Partnerships.
REFERENCES
|
2010
From Ark to Art: The 20-year Journey of the Civic, Cleveland Heights, Ohio, from Jewish Temple to Multi-purpose Community Facility
John J. Boyle III
Cleveland State University, J.BOYLEiii@csuohio.edu
Follow this and additional works at: http://engagedscholarship.csuohio.edu/clevmembs
Part of the Architectural History and Criticism Commons, Cultural Resource Management and Policy Analysis Commons, and the Historic Preservation and Conservation Commons
How does access to this work benefit you? Let us know!
Recommended Citation
Boyle, John J. III, "From Ark to Art: The 20-year Journey of the Civic, Cleveland Heights, Ohio, from Jewish Temple to Multi-purpose Community Facility" (2010). Cleveland Memory. 4.
http://engagedscholarship.csuohio.edu/clevmembs/4
This Book is brought to you for free and open access by the Books at EngagedScholarship@CSU. It has been accepted for inclusion in Cleveland Memory by an authorized administrator of EngagedScholarship@CSU. For more information, please contact library.es@csuohio.edu.
This digital edition was prepared by MSI. Academic Endeavors, the imprint of the Michael Schwartz Library at Cleveland State University.
Prepared by: John J. Boyle, III
December 2000
From Ark to Art: The 20-Year Journey of the Civic, Cleveland Heights, Ohio, from Jewish Temple to Multi-Purpose Community Facility
FROM ARK TO ART:
THE 20-YEAR JOURNEY OF THE CIVIC, CLEVELAND HEIGHTS, OHIO, FROM JEWISH TEMPLE TO MULTI-PURPOSE COMMUNITY FACILITY
John J. Boyle, III
Sacred Landmarks Initiative
December 2000
Sacred Landmarks Monograph Series
edited by Susan Petrone
The Urban Center
The Maxine Goodman Levin College of Urban Affairs
Cleveland State University
# Table of Contents
**Preface** .................................................................................................................. 1
**Executive Summary** ................................................................................................. 3
**Context & Precedents** ............................................................................................... 4
**Background and History** .......................................................................................... 6
- Temple Associates ...................................................................................................... 8
- Civic Preservation Project .......................................................................................... 9
**The Civic Foundation, Inc.** ....................................................................................... 11
- Analysis of Potential Users ..................................................................................... 11
- Architectural Study of Costs of Renovation .......................................................... 12
- Fund Raising Plan .................................................................................................... 13
- Ownership Assumed by Foundation ....................................................................... 14
- Bank Loan Negotiations .......................................................................................... 15
**The Quest for Capital Funds** .................................................................................... 18
- Community Development Block Grants ................................................................ 18
- Other Federal Funding Sources .............................................................................. 19
- State of Ohio Funds ................................................................................................ 20
- Private Investment & Funding ................................................................................ 21
**Solving the Property Tax Problem** .......................................................................... 25
**The Civic Today** ......................................................................................................... 27
- Lessons Learned ..................................................................................................... 28
**The Sacred Landmarks Initiative** ............................................................................. 31
**References** .................................................................................................................. 32
**About the Author** ........................................................................................................ 33
**The Civic in Photographs** .......................................................................................... 34
DEDICATION TO MARLENE KLANFER
In January 2000, Marlene Klanfer retired as Executive Director of the Civic Foundation. For all but a few months of the 20-year existence of the Civic, Marlene Klanfer was the guiding light that brought this dream to a reality. The role of Executive Director included everything from wading through flooded basements to begging creditors to "give us one more month." Marlene's dedication to the Civic included working for many years at a salary that didn't even do justice to the concept of "below market," to paying bills out of her own pocket when there was no other way to keep the building open. The building could not have survived without her.
The publishers wish to acknowledge The Cleveland Press Collection of the Cleveland State University Library for providing the historical photos of the Civic used in this monograph. They would also like to acknowledge the graphic design contributions of Regina Talbott.
Temple, synagogues, churches, mosques, and other religious structures are more than just buildings. For their communities, they come to be symbols of a faith, a history, and a people. More than physical places, they embody a heritage and a culture. Unfortunately, many religious structures are at risk. A combination of age and sometimes inadequate or deferred maintenance has caused some to deteriorate. Records may be poorly maintained, lost, or destroyed by those unaware of their significance. Changing demographic patterns may leave an institution with a congregation whose resources are not sufficient to maintain the building and/or its programs. The numerous threats to the existence of these buildings often results in their destruction. While this is a common fate of little-used or disused buildings, other alternatives are sometimes possible.
The continued existence of any building largely depends on its capacity to continue to be useful, either in its originally intended purpose, or in some important new way. In this respect, houses of worship are like any other buildings. Unlike many buildings designed for secular use, however, they present special problems to people wishing to preserve them. For example, the unique configuration of space essential for the successful enactment of liturgy may be an impediment to its conversion to serve other useful functions. In addition, out of a sense of propriety for its "other worldliness," some people are reluctant to see a sacred space used for secular purposes, sometimes even preferring to see it torn down.
One of the least controversial and most successful ways for a redundant sacred building to continue to be used is to be passed on to a congregation of a different faith. Other notable uses that may optimize the spatial configuration of some houses of worship include adaptive reuse as a museum, place of assembly (e.g., use as a theater), and a variety of secular uses completely unrelated to the original purpose of the building (e.g., conversion to restaurants, nightclubs, condominiums, and apartments).
This monograph focuses on the adaptive reuse of a former temple into a multi-purpose facility known as the Civic. The Civic is a large and imposing Byzantine-style building located in Cleveland Heights, Ohio. Originally the temple for the Conservative Jewish congregation B’nai Jeshurun, it was known informally as the Temple on the Heights. The temple was dedicated in 1926, 60 years after the congregation was organized and began its existence in quarters.
elsewhere in Cleveland. By the 1950s, the congregation had grown to about 2,000 families and was one of the largest Conservative congregations in the country. Nevertheless, continued movement of the Jewish community toward the eastern part of the county led to a decline in Temple membership in the 1960s and 1970s. A gift of 30 acres of land in Pepper Pike, Ohio, a suburb several miles to the east, resulted in the congregation’s choosing that site for the building of its new temple, which was dedicated in 1980.
The new building in Pepper Pike left the old one available for some type of adaptive reuse, and the former Temple on the Heights is now one of the few examples in northeastern Ohio of a sacred structure leading a new life in the secular world.
This monograph describes in detail the (thus far) successful efforts to preserve this beautiful and important landmark building. This first-hand account of the challenges and opportunities involved in the efforts to save the building in a creative and useful way is not only an important story in itself, but also provides a useful overview and guideline to others who are considering or are engaged in related projects to preserve landmark buildings.
The former Temple was preserved because community-minded business people were interested finding a new way for it to continue serving the City of Cleveland Heights. While the return on investment is not impressive in strictly financial terms, the Civic’s continuing architectural and historical presence, as well as its continuing service to the community, is an important dividend for the investors. A message that is implicit in their dedicated efforts is that a cultured society does not demolish its sacred landmarks and artworks; it sees them as treasures and preserves them.
Michael J. Tevesz, Director
Sacred Landmarks Initiative
The Levin College Urban Center
October 17, 2000
EXECUTIVE SUMMARY
The Civic is a former Jewish temple located in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, an inner-ring suburb of Cleveland, Ohio. The building was close to being abandoned and possibly torn down after its former congregation built a new facility farther out in the suburbs. This study describes how a former temple came to serve the community in a new and different way in the secular world. This study will chronicle the Civic as a historical building; describe the efforts to remake it into a multi-purpose building that is a community asset; and serve as a model to other communities interested in adapting houses of worship to secular purposes. While there are differences between states in terms of the details of this kind of preservation work, such as tax codes and other government regulations, the basic tools are the same everywhere. People responsible for the stewardship of older buildings that must be extensively retrofitted, as the Civic was, find it almost impossible to generate enough revenue to both sustain the operations of the building and to provide the capital necessary to perform the retrofit.
There are only two resources that can be accessed to fund a project such as saving the Civic - government and the private giving community. The people who saved the Civic were fortunate to find themselves in a city with people concerned about saving historical buildings and willing to use some of their political and monetary capital to help. They were also fortunate to live in a community with a wealth of private charitable foundations that also shared the city’s goals of saving the best of its historical architecture.
CONTEXT & PRECEDENTS
Throughout North America and Europe there are many examples of houses of worship being adapted to another use in order to save the building; these efforts have met with varying degrees of success. For example, in New Orleans, the former St. Alphonsus Catholic Church has been taken over by a nonprofit corporation and made into a cultural center in memory of the former Irish immigrants who founded the parish. In Sandwich, Massachusetts, Corpus Christi Catholic Church has become an upscale bed and breakfast and gourmet restaurant. In Prague, the Czech Republic, the Klausen Synagogue has become the State Jewish Museum and the Pinkas Synagogue has become a memorial to Czech Jews who died in concentration camps during World War II.
Several synagogues in the United States also have been saved by reuse. In San Francisco, the Bush Street Synagogue was taken over by the San Francisco Redevelopment Agency and sold to private investors to provide a home for the Holocaust Center. The investors attempted to raise six million dollars for the project, but as of mid-2000 have not yet succeeded. In Los Angeles, the Breed Street Shul closed in 1993. Various groups have attempted to restore it to a Jewish Historical Museum, so far without success. In Bloomington, Indiana the former Moses Montifiore Synagogue housed three Christian congregations after the Jewish congregation left. A private citizen has now bought it and uses the basement as his private residence. The former sanctuary space is being converted to a small concert and meeting hall. In Boston, the Vilna Shul on Beacon Hill was saved in the late 1980s from becoming a site for a parking garage. In 1995, a nonprofit organization took over the building to establish the Vilna Center for Jewish Heritage. With help from Historic Boston, it has now reopened as a cultural center.
In Cleveland, Ohio, there are many examples of new congregations taking over temples and churches when the original congregations relocated. There also are other examples such as the former Christian Science church on Euclid Avenue that became the home, for a time, of the Cleveland Playhouse.
There are few examples of such a project as complex as the Civic. One project with many similarities is the former Monastere du Bon-Pasteur (Good Shepherd Convent) in Montreal,
Quebec. The building was rehabilitated as a joint project of Societe Immobiliere du Patrimoine Architectural de Montreal (SIMPA), a joint Montreal-Province of Quebec enterprise and the Societe d'Habitation du Quebec (SHQ) (the Quebec government-housing agency). The project includes low-income elderly housing (the former vocational school), middle-income cooperative housing, shared spaces such as a public hall (the former chapel), a daycare center (the former rectory), and 22 luxury condominiums in the former stables. The project was almost totally government financed, with the sale of the condominiums providing a large part of the payback. The authors of an article about this project note that "the project demonstrates how the difficult technical, architectural, financial, legal, and social problems of reusing historic buildings can be overcome through innovation and partnership."
The Bon-Pasteur rehabilitation was completed in 1986. The above quote became prophetic as the board of The Civic, unaware of this project and its complexities, began its 20-year journey without the help of millions of dollars of city and provincial funds, and without a breath-taking location overlooking the St. Lawrence River.
BACKGROUND AND HISTORY
The Civic, located at 3630 Mayfield Road, Cleveland Heights, Ohio, is an 111,000-square-foot building built in 1924 (see figures 1 and 2). Its journey from a thriving Jewish temple to a multi-purpose building housing several arts, cultural, and community organizations as well as worshiping congregations, banquets, and community meetings, is the subject of this monograph.
The Heights Temple was built in 1924 to house the Congregation B'nai Jeshurun, which was formed about 1867 and was originally located in the E. 9th Street and Eagle Avenue neighborhood of Cleveland. This area is now the location of Jacobs Field, home of the Cleveland Indians. The original congregation was Hungarian and formed when 25 members broke off from two other more Orthodox congregations, Anshe Chased and Tifereth Israel. One of those congregations, Anshe Chased, sold their temple on Eagle Avenue to B'nai Jeshurun. The congregation continued to grow and in 1905 built their own temple at E. 55th Street and Scovill Avenue. This building still stands and is currently the home of Shiloh Baptist Church.
In 1920, the congregation again decided to move, following the movement of the Jewish community to Cleveland Heights, where almost a third of the Cleveland area Jewish community was then located. At about the same time, the congregation Tifereth Israel also decided to move to a new location in the University Circle area of Cleveland. Both congregations hired noted Boston architect Charles Greco to design their new buildings. Greco designed both buildings in a Moorish/Byzantine style. The Tifereth Israel's building is now known simply as "the Temple" and is a landmark building located at E. 105th Street and Ansel Road.
The Cleveland Heights temple, now known as "the Civic," was built at a cost of about $800,000. The original building consisted of a 2,000-seat sanctuary (now the Great Hall and the current home of the New Spirit Revival Center); a 1,200 seat auditorium to the east of the sanctuary called Spira Hall (now the Assembly, which is used for weddings, parties, and civic events); a dining hall below Spira Hall (now the Gallery, used for exhibits like the "Dinner Party" by Judy Chicago, and the annual Civic Art Show); and four bowling alleys below the Great Hall (now the Center Hall, which is used for a variety of purposes including Jazzercise classes). There were also 31 classrooms east and south of the Assembly on three floors (now the East Wing and
used for offices).
The Civic was described by the architects who did a planning study of the building as follows:
"The exterior [of the building] is of red brick, Indiana limestone, polychrome terra-cotta, and colored marble. The dome of the Temple is primarily brick banded with stone and topped off with a Byzantine roof of red tile. The Temple is approached by broad stairs off of Mayfield Road and is entered through one of five wood doors, which alternate, between stone columns. The columns, with Byzantine capitals, support small arches, above which are marble slabs bearing the Ten Commandments. The entrance lobby flanking Mayfield Road has retained its original polychromed marble-veneered walls, marble floor and its vaulted ceiling. Decorative bands of Menorah and Lulaf leaves ornament the lobby. Located at each end are octagonal shaped stairs, which conduct one from the entrance hall to the balcony/second floor level. The inside of the Great Hall [sanctuary] is flooded with light from arched windows which ring the dome and pierce the upper side walls and (north) balcony wall."^7
In 1956 a wing was added to the east side of the structure. This wing included new classrooms (now the West Wing), a rabbi’s study (now the offices of The Civic), and the Gottfried Chapel (now Ensemble Theatre). In 1959 the congregation renovated Spira Hall (the Assembly) at a cost of $750,000. The new addition and the 1959 remodeling departed from the original architecture and utilized designs common in commercial buildings of that era.
In 1979 the congregation left the Cleveland Heights facility and built a new building several miles to the east in Pepper Pike, Ohio. They put the building up for sale. Realtors aggressively marketed the building to the City of Cleveland Heights, which at that time was looking for alternatives for their own 50-year-old city hall building, which they had outgrown. Ultimately the city concluded that the rehab costs far exceeded the alternative costs of constructing a new building.
In 1981 the building was purchased for $580,000 by a limited partnership formed by three prominent members of the community, Joseph Shafran, Robert Soltz, and William Risman. These three general partners called the partnership Temple Associates. In addition there were 22 limited partners, later increased to 46. Temple Associates raised a total of $340,000 from the original limited partners; the three general partners loaned Temple Associates $250,000. In addition the partnership took out an $180,000, 10-year mortgage.
In the first year of operation, the building produced $70,000 in annual rents. By 1990, the annual rental income had risen to $330,000. However, the expenses of maintaining a building of this size and age plus mortgage payments and capital repairs never permitted the building to even approach a break-even point. In its first year of operation (1981), the partnership lost $208,000 and by 1993 the total accumulated debt to the partners was almost $1,715,000 plus a $597,000 balance on a bank loan with National City Bank, which was secured by the personal guarantees of the three general partners.
During the 13 years that the partnership owned the building, they kept the building afloat as best they could at enormous personal sacrifice to themselves and the limited partners. The vision that they had for the Civic formed the basis for the current uses of the building. In 1984 they applied for and received a listing on the National Register of Historical Places. They also began looking for tenants who would fulfill the goal of turning the building into a local home for arts and civic organizations and civic events. Renting out 110,000 square feet was not easy and Temple Associates tried a variety of approaches. Because of the inexpensive rents, several local nonprofit corporations took up residence at The Civic. The two kosher kitchens were rented to kosher caterers. The Assembly was used for weddings, meetings, and even bingo. The Gottfried Chapel became the home of the Phoenix Theatre Ensemble and later Ensemble Theatre. The largest space, the Great Hall, was almost never used, partly because of its size and partly because of its rather shabby condition. In addition, it was extremely expensive to heat this space, as well as the rest of the building.
As early as 1983, it was beginning to become clear to the owners that the for-profit structure of the partnership was preventing the building from tapping into government and
foundation funds that, for most enterprises like the Civic, formed the backbone of their financial support. In 1983 the partners formed the Kaleidoscope, a 509(a)(2) foundation. The original idea was for the foundation to lease the large spaces from the partnership and then re-lease these spaces to nonprofit performance organizations, thus making the area eligible for tax-exempt grants and donations. While the general idea had merit, the legal complexities of the structure proved to be unworkable and the idea was dropped in 1985.
The next idea pursued was to create a business incubator in the building. These were popular at the time and the State of Ohio was funding several others in the area. The City of Cleveland Heights assisted the Civic in pursuing this idea, but the layout of the Civic proved to be unworkable to accommodate the needs of an incubator, so that idea was also abandoned.
**Civic Preservation Project**
In 1990, the then-Executive Director of the Civic, Marlene Klanfer, produced a document called "Concept Paper - Civic Preservation Project." The purpose of the project was "to secure the capital improvement funds and ownership structure needed to permit the Civic to meet its full potential as a resource for enhancing the quality of community life in Cleveland Heights."
The experience of Temple Associates over their 10 years of ownership proved that the building did fulfill a significant role in the community. The spaces are well suited for the current uses and the building had the added advantage of owning an adjacent 300-car parking lot. The problem was the condition of the building. The owners estimated that income could be increased at least 40 percent to $550,000 per year if significant improvements could be made to upgrade the structure to current standards. While this income level could not sustain any capital improvement payback, it would support the current operating needs of the building. The Concept Paper identified $3,000,000 in capital needs that were required to renovate the major areas, repair the leaking roof, and upgrade the antiquated plumbing, heating, and electrical systems.
The paper concluded that Temple Associates, as a for-profit partnership, was not the appropriate vehicle for preserving the building as a community asset. Temple Associates, in this paper, agreed to donate its partnership equity to a new not-for-profit entity debt free. The paper concluded by stating that "preserving the current building, while developing it as a focus for community activities, is the use that will contribute the most. Demolition and conversion to commercial uses, the most likely alternative, would not be a comparable contribution."
In retrospect, it is unfortunate that the Concept Paper was not written 10 years earlier when the building was originally taken over by the partnership. The building had declined even more during the partnership’s period of ownership because there was never sufficient revenue to operate the building or make any significant capital improvements. This caused even further deterioration of the building systems. The owners faced the "catch 22" dilemma of not being able to maximize the rental of the building because of its condition, and not being able to improve the building because of the lack of sufficient revenue.
THE CIVIC FOUNDATION, INC.
In late 1990, Temple Associates had their attorney draw up Articles of Incorporation to file with the State of Ohio as a nonprofit corporation. This was approved by the state in early 1991. The new corporation then filed with the Internal Revenue Service for designation as a 501(c)(3) organization. This request was also approved in 1991. These approvals permitted the Civic Foundation to apply for planning grants to three major Cleveland area foundations - The Cleveland Foundation, the George Gund Foundation, and the Jewish Community Federation.
In December 1991, the Cleveland Foundation approved a $42,000 grant to be used in support of a cost-benefit analysis of the Civic's role in Cleveland Heights. In March 1992, the Gund Foundation approved an additional $42,000 to assess the building's renovation needs, to identify potential financing sources, and to develop a program for the building's use. The Jewish Community Federation also acted favorably, granting $15,000 for the Civic redevelopment project in March 1992. With almost $100,000 in grants, the Board of the Civic Foundation decided to embark on the following three-pronged approach: (1) commission an analysis of potential users of the building and their facilities needs; (2) fund an architectural study of the costs of carrying out the results of the needs analysis; and (3) hire a fund-raising consultant to figure out how to fund the recommended renovation.
ANALYSIS OF POTENTIAL USERS
In the spring of 1992, the Civic Foundation contracted with a local fund-raising consultant, Edie Blum, to begin the analysis project. She in turn added to her group Jane Kirkham, who, as President of the Playhouse Square Foundation, had played a major role in saving and renovating three historic theaters in downtown Cleveland. Jane embarked on a program of interviewing as many potential users of the Civic as she could identify. Ultimately approximately 40 were interviewed. Her conclusions were that "The Civic's natural user
market for the larger spaces consists of smaller, emerging, fledgling or community organizations for whom the sophistication/size of the facility and rental costs of a Playhouse Square Center, downtown hotels, the Cleveland Convention Center, and comparable facilities are both unnecessary and beyond their financial reach. Nowhere in this region do such organizations have a defined center of gravity for their activities.
Almost two-thirds of the organizations interviewed expressed an interest in using shared facilities at the Civic. From an architectural standpoint, the report recommended that the large spaces should all be arranged for flexible use. The Assembly could become a 250-400 seat venue for dance and theater with a stage that could also be used "in the round." The Gallery could be used for cabaret-style theater and for exhibit space. The Center Hall would be subdivided into rehearsal spaces, and the Ensemble Theatre space would become a "black box" for up to 150 people for local theater use. The largest space, the Great Hall, would have its raked floor flattened so it could be used either for performances of up to 1,000 people, or for large conferences or banquets. In addition, Jane Kirkham recommended several joint uses such as a common box office to serve all of the potential users.
The report concluded with a section on potential sources of funds, noting that the major portion would have to come out of public funds, but with the real possibility of substantial foundation and corporate support from those that were now funding and supporting the various cultural groups that would take up residence at the Civic. Finally, the report reinforced the necessity of the building ownership being turned over to the nonprofit corporation in order for any of the funding options to become possible.
**ARCHITECTURAL STUDY OF COSTS OF RENOVATION**
In May 1993, the Civic Foundation contracted with vanDijk, Pace, Westlake & Partners, a major Cleveland architectural firm with an extensive background in renovation and adaptive reuse of historical buildings. The $28,300 contract, which would be paid out of the grants received from the George Gund Foundation and The Cleveland Foundation, included two components: 1) basic improvements, which were those necessary to bring the property into
compliance with regulatory requirements and to increase operating, maintenance, and efficiency; and 2) improvements to the Great Hall, Ensemble Theatre, and the Assembly to meet a wide range of performance and assembly needs, as identified in the Kirkham study of potential users.
The study was to begin June 1, 1993 and take approximately two months. Paul Westlake, a partner in the firm, was named by the vanDijk firm to coordinate the project.
On September 8, 1993, vanDijk presented a draft of their report to the Civic Foundation Board of Trustees. The plan called for a nine-step phase-in of the improvements over 24 to 60 months. The stages involved, first, stabilizing the building and stopping further decay, then, second, correcting infrastructure problems and addressing Americans with Disabilities Act violations. The third stage called for improving the building's image and access. Steps four and five involved reconfiguring the Great Hall as a ballroom and banquet facility/music hall and refurbishing its lobby, as well as upgrading the lighting and sound systems; and upgrading of the Assembly, Gallery, and Center halls. Stages six through eight dealt with the tenant spaces, the building office, and site improvements. The final step was improvements to the Ensemble Theatre space.
The total price for all nine steps was $10.8 million if the improvements were completed in 24 months. The 60-month price was $12.7 million. As ambitious a fund raising program as the Foundation might have envisioned, it never contemplated that $10 million could be raised. The plan, however, laid out in each phase those items critical to the overall stability of the building. By pulling out components from each phase and setting priorities, the staff and the Board of the Civic were able to put together a series of smaller steps that could be bid out as funds became available.
**FUND RAISING PLAN**
As part of the Future Use Analysis Report, Edie Blum, the fund-raising consultant, added a section on potential sources of income. Her preliminary conclusions were that most of the capital funds for renovation and improvements would have to come from the public sector. The report pointed out that the weak economy in 1992 and the scale of the project...
made it unlikely that the majority of the funds could be raised privately. It also suggested that the Civic Foundation hire a planning consultant to look into all of the potential sources of public sector funding. While the report suggested that most of the funding would have to come from the public sector, it did not rule out the fact that considerable funds might be raised in the private sector. There were several categories of potential donors, including local foundations, corporate supporters of current or potential tenants, and individuals who either had a stake in one of the tenant organizations or who had close ties to the former congregation or to the Cleveland Heights community. The report also suggested that a consultant be hired to research available private funds.
OWNERSHIP ASSUMED BY FOUNDATION
In fall 1992, Temple Associates began the process of turning the ownership of the property over to the Foundation. The major hurdle to overcome was the tax ramifications to the partners resulting from the donation of the property to the Foundation. The original plan developed by the accounting firm of Deloitte & Touche was to donate the property debt-free to the nonprofit charitable Foundation. To accomplish this, the partners would have to contribute an additional $772,000 in equity to the partnership in order to pay off debts. If this were done, the property would have an appraised value of $1,060,000, which would be the total amount of the charitable contribution of the 46 partners. This donation would result in approximately $328,000 in reduced taxes for the partners at the tax rates then in effect. The net out-of-pocket loss to the partners would have been about $461,000, or about $10,000 apiece. If the equity donation was not made and the building was donated with the debts, then the partners would still be faced with a taxable gain of over $831,000 with a resulting cumulative tax bill of $258,000. The difference for the 46 partners of donating versus not donating the additional equity was $5,000 per partner. The partnership agreement required unanimous approval of the partners. Over the next two years the general partners worked to get unanimous approval. Unfortunately, the economy at this time was not very good and most of the investors, who for the most part were developers and property owners, were faced with
losses on their other investments. The potential capital gains did not benefit them nor did the prospect of a tax write-off from the donation.
In July 1994, Deloitte & Touche prepared another document for the partners outlining the new implications of donating the property without paying off the debts, but with the forgiveness of over $1.6 million of debt to the general partners and the partnership. This plan, which resulted in a total tax liability to the partners of $356,000, did not require unanimous approval. The transfer was approved by the majority of the partners and the transfer took place on December 31, 1994.
On January 1, 1995, the Civic Foundation, Inc. took over a $1,060,000 building with a debt of $1,090,000 that included unpaid real estate taxes of $142,000 plus interest, a bank loan of $585,000 that had a balloon payment of $576,000 due April 1, 1995, and $364,000 of accounts payable.
**Bank Loan Negotiations**
National City Bank of Cleveland agreed to change the name on the note it held from the former owners, Temple Associates, to The Civic Foundation, Inc. A more difficult challenge to the Foundation was the balloon payment of almost $600,000 due on April 1, 1995. Prior to meeting with the bank representatives, the Civic Board requested that its architects estimate the cost of tearing down The Civic. The Board's thinking was that the bank, in the event of a foreclosure, would be interested in demolishing the building and selling the land for redevelopment. The demolition cost was $550,000, so the bank would be faced with a loss of more than one million dollars in lost income and expenses for a three-acre plot of potentially developable land. At $333,000 per acre, the land would be extremely overpriced for the neighborhood. (Vacant commercial land in the neighborhood was selling for approximately $50,000 per acre.)
The first meeting with the bank officials was held in March 1995. The bankers were willing to discuss a 12 to 18 month extension. The Board felt that it wanted a permanent solution to the loan issue rather than have to face the annual balloon payment issue. National
City Bank - due to bank mergers, the third bank to hold the note - was reluctant to continue the loan, believing it to be a non-performing loan that should never have been granted in the first place. Faced with the demolition costs and the backup of the three guarantors, the bank officials eventually relented. Since the cash flow of the Civic didn't allow it to pay a regular monthly principal and interest payment out of its funds, the proposal to the three guarantors was that they would each make a tax deductible donation monthly to The Civic Foundation, depending on the cash needs of that month. Since the bank had full recourse to the guarantors for the loan balance, this arrangement was satisfactory to the investors, who had few alternatives. The bank agreed to a one-year extension to April 1996.
The Civic Foundation was no healthier financially in April 1996 than it had been in the previous year. The guarantors by this time were getting weary of the monthly calls for cash and were looking for a better solution. The bank was looking for its money rather than another loan extension and the Civic was looking for a long-term loan to avoid a crisis every April. The City of Cleveland Heights was also looking for a permanent solution and was unwilling to release any funding to the Civic until the permanent loan solution was in place. Reluctantly, the bank granted another one-year extension in April 1996. Then, unexpectedly, one of the three guarantors stopped making donations to the Civic to pay the monthly mortgage. As a result, the Civic was not able to make its July or August mortgage payments. In August, the president of the Civic Board invited the bank's leadership to sit down with board to work out a solution. The Board hoped that the bank might be willing to reduce the interest rate of the loan by making a charitable donation to the Civic. The bank responded in a formal letter informing the Civic that it was now in default of the loan agreement.
During the fall of 1996, several meetings were held between the Board of the Civic, the guarantors, and the City Manager and Development Director of Cleveland Heights, all looking for a strategy to convince the bank to grant a permanent loan to the Civic. Because the guarantors were no longer willing to make monthly donations to the Foundation, some other solution was necessary. The City expressed a willingness to participate financially in a solution. In early 1997, a meeting was set up in the offices of the George Gund Foundation, one of the early funders of The Civic Foundation's planning phase. The meeting included representatives of the Civic Foundation, the City of Cleveland Heights, the Gund Foundation, the Cleveland
Foundation, and the guarantors. At that meeting, the City of Cleveland Heights and the Gund Foundation representatives agreed to take to their board and city council, respectively, a proposal to work out a linked deposit program with the Civic. The terms of this proposal were that each of the parties would deposit a sum of money in National City Bank. The interest from these deposits would accumulate in the Civic Foundation’s account at National City and would be applied each month to the monthly mortgage payment. This would enable the monthly payments to be low enough to fit within the budget of the Civic.
In July 1997, the Civic Foundation and the George Gund Foundation signed an agreement calling for the Gund Foundation to deposit $250,000 in a Certificate of Deposit that would mature in July 2007, when the Civic’s loan would be paid off. The CD would bear interest at 6.06 percent; 5.06 percent would be applied to the Civic’s debt service. This linked deposit would produce about a $1,000 per month contribution to the monthly mortgage payment. On October 31, the City of Cleveland Heights followed suit, signing an agreement to deposit $100,000 at six percent interest. The City’s CD would allocate five percent to the Civic’s debt service. This would contribute another $400 to the monthly mortgage. With these two linked deposits, the Civic’s cash flow would now allow it to make its monthly payments without assistance from the guarantors. The agreement with the city also approved the release of the almost $400,000, as detailed in the following section, in Community Development Block Grant funds that had been allocated but not released to the Civic.
From Ark to Art
THE QUEST FOR CAPITAL FUNDS
Even before taking title to the building, the Civic Foundation staff began the process of trying to raise the funds necessary to protect the building from any further damage and to upgrade the building systems to acceptable standards.
COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT BLOCK GRANTS
The City of Cleveland Heights is an integrated, inner ring suburb of Cleveland with a population of about 55,000. By 1995, approximately 35 percent of the population was non-white, with a significant number falling below the official poverty income line. As a city of more than 50,000, Cleveland Heights was an "Entitlement City" under the 1974 federal Community Development Block Grant (CDBG) program. Fiscal year 1995 was known, in CDBG parlance, as "Year 21." Cleveland Heights, under the CDBG formula, was receiving more than $1.5 million annually in federal funds from this program. Under federal guidelines, 70 percent of the funds had to directly benefit low- and moderate-income individuals. Because the Civic was located in one of the poorest census tracts in the city, and its condition would have a significant impact on an already economically troubled area of the city, the Civic Foundation saw that it could potentially benefit from these federal dollars.
In August 1994, The Civic Foundation applied to the City of Cleveland Heights for $500,000 of CDBG funds for the Year 21 program. After a rigorous process of arguing the case for the Civic’s proposal, the Foundation was awarded $250,000 by the City for the 1995 program. Because in 1994 the ownership of the Civic had not yet been assumed by the nonprofit Civic Foundation, the City made the award of the funds contingent upon the ownership change. As detailed earlier, the ownership change occurred in January 1995. On November 7, 1994, City Council formally awarded the Civic its first capital rehabilitation grant.
The next step was for the staff of the Civic to begin the process of working with the architects, vanDijk, Pace, Westlake & Partners, to put together a priority list of projects and begin the drawing up of bid documents. Because this was a federally funded project, the bid procedures were very cumbersome and time-consuming. By spring of 1996, vanDijk had drafted a $1 million, three-phase construction priority list. The first phase would utilize the $250,000 that had been allocated by the City in November 1994. That phase would include roof repairs as well as gutter and downspout replacement. Since the Civic was listed on the National Register of Historical Places, the construction had to conform to historical guidelines as enforced by the Ohio Historical Society. This meant that the gutters and downspouts had to be copper, as they originally were, even though copper was then about three times as expensive as aluminum.
While the process of drawing up the bid specifications for the first $250,000 grant was going on, the staff began the process of applying for another $250,000 grant from the next CDBG funding cycle. The Year 22 total funding requests were much greater than the previous year, making competition much stiffer. As a result, the Civic was only awarded $144,000. However, the total CDBG funds now totaled almost $400,000. Unexpectedly, spending the money became the problem, because the City was unwilling to authorize the funds until the Civic cleared up its financial problems with National City Bank. As noted above, that finally occurred in the fall of 1997.
**OTHER FEDERAL FUNDING SOURCES**
In early January 1995, the executive director and the president of the Board of Trustees met with Mary Rose Oakar. Ms. Oakar had been a U.S. Congresswoman representing the west side of Cleveland and several western and southern suburbs. She was defeated in her bid for re-election in 1992 and was working as a consultant. She had very close ties to Congressman Louis Stokes, whose east side of Cleveland and eastern suburban district included Cleveland Heights and who was the senior Democrat on the House of Representatives Appropriations Committee. The Civic hired Oakar's firm to "take all
appropriate steps to conduct a review and analysis of potential federal funding sources to apply toward the adaptive reuse of the Civic.\textsuperscript{13} The hope was that the Foundation could raise between $1 and $2 million in federal funds using a combination of development grants and tax credits. The contract described three possibly useful programs: the Historical Tax Credit program, the Economic Development Administration (EDA) grant program, and Congressional line item appropriations.
The Historical Tax Credit program proved to be inappropriate for the Civic. The program allowed the purchase, sale, and trading of Historical Tax Credits, but there had to be private investment in the building in order to trigger a credit that could be sold. Since there was no private development and unlikely to be any, there would be no credits to sell. The second program looked at was the EDA program. This program was essentially a job creation program for low- and moderate-income neighborhoods. While the Civic qualified in terms of its neighborhood, its job creation possibilities were minimal. While the City did its best to work with the Civic to make this program fit its project, there was little likelihood that this project would be funded by EDA.
The final possibility was a line item grant through Congress. During the time when the Democrats were in the majority in the House, Congressman Louis Stokes, who represented Cleveland Heights, had considerable influence in funding programs. However, January 1995 saw the takeover of the House by the Republicans for the first time in 40 years. Not only were there bitter disagreements between President Clinton and Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich, there also were 40 years of Republican pet programs that had not previously been funded that would take priority over Democratic proposals. Thus this route to the federal funds was no longer open to the Civic.
**STATE OF OHIO FUNDS**
While the news on the federal dollar front was not good, better possibilities existed with the State of Ohio. Ohio operates on a two-year budget cycle. In the odd years, the state passes a two-year operating budget; in the even years it passes a two-year capital budget.
As is the case with the federal government, there are smaller line item possibilities in the Ohio capital budget. The area's State Representative, Barbara Boyd, was a veteran Democrat in a Republican majority State House, but she had always had good relations with her Republican colleagues. The Civic, with the support of the City of Cleveland Heights, which had in January passed a resolution of support to the state, applied for $500,000 for "interior improvements to make the building accessible to disabled persons and for historic restorations." The capital budget that passed in June 1996 included a $100,000 grant for the Civic. The terms of the grant were extremely broad and gave the Civic the right to use the funds for almost any non-operating purpose. The broad scope became a necessity when the boiler cracked shortly after the grant was made. Over $34,000 of the funds had to be used to replace the boiler before winter came. The rest was used for elevator repairs, the replacement of several windows that had rotted out and were leaking, some additional roof repairs, and handicapped access ramps.
In the year 2000 capital budget, the Civic was again successful in receiving a state grant, this time for $50,000. The terms were again extremely broad. The Civic proposed to use the funds to continue the structural repairs necessary to upgrade the portion of the facilities that have the possibility of producing more rental income. These items include bathroom upgrades with the inclusion of a handicapped access bathroom to serve the large rental spaces, better signage, and lighting of the exterior.
**PRIVATE INVESTMENT & FUNDING**
**INVESTMENT**
In the summer of 1996, one of the Civics' tenants, the New Spirit Revival Center, which had been renting a section of the building for their Sunday services, approached the Civic with a proposal to sign a long-term lease for the Great Hall. In return for a long-term lease, they would agree to substantially rehabilitate the Great Hall to use as their permanent facility. The original plan for this, the largest and most attractive of the large spaces in the building, had been as a multi-purpose space. The area now had a raked floor, (theater style), with a stage
in the front, plus a large balcony). The Great Hall can accommodate as many as 1,600 people on the main floor and balcony. The architectural plan called for the space to be renovated with a flat floor and movable rather than fixed seating. The balcony was to remain as currently configured, but the space below the balcony on the main floor would become part of an extended lobby, because the current lobby space was not large enough to function effectively for a multi-purpose hall. The new configuration, as envisioned by vanDijk, Pace, Westlake & Partners, would accommodate about 900 on the main floor and balcony for performances, and could seat close to 400 for a banquet.
Before the board of the Civic was willing to consider a long-term lease, they asked the congregation for assurances on a number of items. The first was that the work undertaken by New Spirit would conform to the vanDijk plan, that historical considerations would be taken into consideration, and that the space could be rented out for performances when the congregation was not using the facility. After several months of negotiations, a deal was struck for a seven-year lease. The only change made to the vanDijk plan was that the raked floor would not be changed to a flat floor. This would have greatly increased the cost. The original vanDijk cost estimate for the Great Hall was approximately two million dollars. New Spirit was willing to spend about $250,000. Their work provided valuable improvements for the hall. The fixed seating and worn carpeting were removed. New carpet was installed and the entire area repainted. A ramp was installed to provide easier access for the disabled to the hall. The area below the balcony on the main floor was turned into the enlarged lobby that vanDijk had planned. For its part, the Civic committed to fixing the leaky roof and to repair or replace the windows that were rotted and leaking.
In the years since the lease was signed, the congregation's membership has increased dramatically from several hundred to well over 1,000. The congregation is presently renting additional space in the Civic several times a month. Because of their expanded use, the plan to rent out the Great Hall for occasional one-day performances has never been implemented. This has become a revenue problem for the Civic because it is estimated that the space could bring in $1,500 to $2,000 per day as a performance space.
From Ark to Art
**FOUNDATION FUNDING**
In 1998, the Civic made applications to several Cleveland area foundations for grants for various capital projects. Many personal visits and discussions had yielded only a small amount of foundation grants. Finally, in late 1999, the George Gund Foundation indicated a willingness to consider a grant. In 1998, the Civic had sent the Gund Foundation a capital grant proposal for $150,000. This application remained on the desk of the program director for two years before coming to the top of the pile. Within hours of getting the call, the board president and the executive director of the Civic put together a revised wish list and resubmitted the request to the foundation. The grant was approved in December 1999, and the funds were dispersed to the Civic in January 2000. Because of an end-of-the-year cash flow problem resulting from a rent dispute with a major tenant, the Civic asked for and received permission from the Gund Foundation to temporarily use a portion of the grant for operating purposes with the stipulation that the Civic send to Gund for their approval a formal plan for restoring the operating dollars to the capital account, so that the entire $150,000 would be spent for capital purposes. The Civic used these capital dollars to improve the rentability of the large assembly spaces. The bathrooms were rehabilitated, several rooms were redecorated, the steps were repaired, the fire alarm system was updated to code, and tables and chairs were replaced for use in the rental halls.
**CIVIC’S FUND RAISING CAMPAIGNS AND EVENTS**
Over the past several years, the Civic has sponsored two fund-raising programs: Ramps to the Future, whose emphasis was on raising the necessary funds to install a ramp to access the theater portion of the building, and Windows to the Future, which was geared to raising the funds to replace several of the Civics’ windows. Both of these efforts had modest results, but enabled the Civic board to ask for and receive donations from some of the smaller foundations that did not make large targeted grants like the Gund Foundation and the Cleveland Foundation. The total raised in these two efforts was less than $50,000.
Each year the Civic holds a juried art show, which has grown in popularity since its inception. Artists exhibit their works, compete for prizes, and give the Civic a portion of their proceeds from sales at the show. This effort has also been a vehicle for receiving smaller
donations from individuals and corporations who direct their gifts towards the art community. In 1998 and 1999, this event raised about $50,000.
When the Civic Foundation took over the building from Temple Associates, $142,000 in back property taxes was owed to Cuyahoga County. By 1998 this amount had accumulated to over $300,000 in back taxes and interest. The Civic discovered an interesting quirk of Ohio law when it tried to pay its first semi-annual tax bill after the title transfer in January 1995 - the County cannot accept current taxes if there are back taxes owed. This meant that since the Civic did not have the $142,000 plus accumulated interest plus the semi-annual current payment of $14,000, the County would accept nothing. The County, in fact, returned to the Civic its uncashed check for the current payment. Thus the Civic was positioned to perpetually default on its tax payment. Periodically the County Treasurer and the County Auditor would post the Civic on their delinquency list and send letters threatening foreclosure.
Another "catch 22" situation was that the Civic was not able to apply to the State of Ohio for a partial property tax exemption because the taxes were in delinquency. Under Ohio law, according to the Civics' attorneys, since the building was owned by a nonprofit corporation, it would qualify for tax exempt status except for that portion of the building that was occupied by for-profit companies. A large part of the building was occupied by religious congregations, the Ensemble Theatre, and nonprofit civic corporations. There were only a few for-profit permanent tenants. Ohio law permitted the Civic to apply retroactively for three years of exemption that would include all of the years that the building was owned by the Civic Foundation. However, until the tax delinquency was resolved, there could be no application for a tax exemption. Finally, on January 29, 1998, the Civic was served with papers formally filing foreclosure action against the building for non-payment of property taxes. The suit also included National City Bank and the City of Cleveland Heights, both of whom had liens on the property as a result of outstanding loans. In an attempt to turn a bad situation into a good one, the Civic contacted the Cleveland Foundation and asked for a meeting with their program officer to discuss its problem.
Armed with the lawsuit and the full support of the City, the bank, and the loan guarantors, the Civic board and executive director met with the Cleveland Foundation, which agreed to consider a loan to pay the portion of the taxes accumulated prior to the transfer of ownership to the Civic Foundation. With this news in hand, the Civic contacted the Cuyahoga County Treasurer's office. After several internal discussions, the Treasurer's office agreed to a plan that involved paying back in one lump sum the pre-1995 taxes plus interest, and placing the post-1995 taxes on a two-year monthly payment plan. The Cleveland Foundation, once the County was on board, agreed to loan the Civic $188,000 with a seven-and-a-half year repayment schedule with a three percent annual interest rate. The provisions in the loan document included a requirement that the County agree to drop the foreclosure suit and that the Civic agree to turn over to the Cleveland Foundation any tax refunds that the Civic receives from the state if and when the tax exemption is granted. With the three-year retroactivity and the possibility that a substantial percent of the building could be declared not-for-profit, the refund could be considerable.
Finally in November 1998, the lawsuit was dropped, the loan from the Cleveland Foundation was used to pay the pre-1995 taxes, and the Civic signed a two-year agreement to pay $4,300 per month to clear up the 1995-98 taxes. In addition, the Civic resumed paying the annual property taxes of about $29,000 pending resolution of the tax-exempt status.
In August 2000 the State of Ohio finally granted the Civic property tax exemptions for almost 90 percent of the building, retroactive to January 1, 1995. This rebate will allow the Civic to pay back a large portion of the Cleveland Foundation loan and frees up almost $30,000 per year currently used for tax and loan payments for reallocation to the maintenance of the building.
The history of the Civic over the period 1980-2000 is a demonstration in both success and failure. The major failure was the purchase of the building by a for-profit corporation. The major renovation and retrofitting that were necessary in order to turn the building into a functional multi-purpose building were simply too extensive and too costly to make a for-profit enterprise a success, even under the best of circumstances. Over 20 years, more than $1.6 million in grants, loans, and private investment were put into the building. Almost none of these funds would have been available under the for-profit structure. The successes are that the major structural items have been addressed and improvements have been made that make the building more rentable. The tenant spaces are virtually 100 percent rented at all times. The Ensemble Theatre continues to do well in its space. The New Spirit Revival Center has thrived in its location and has beautifully restored its Great Hall area. The major rental areas have all been redecorated and the catering area is slated to be rented to a major Cleveland area caterer who intends to sponsor Sunday brunch for the church-goers and provide a linked catering program with the Civic’s hall rentals. This will benefit both the caterer and the Civic’s income stream. The resolution of the tax-exempt status and the payoff of the county loan will dramatically improve the Civic’s cash flow situation.
The major unknown and the one problem that the Civic must succeed in addressing is its ability to rent out the daily rental spaces. If all of the daily rental spaces were rented all of the time at the published rate, the Civic would have annual income of over one million dollars. If the Civic can achieve about 20 percent of its maximum occupancy, it can succeed in sustaining itself and make necessary additional capital investment in the building.
It is clear that the most important ingredient in the success of the Civic was a dedicated group of individuals who were committed to the project and were willing to spend the time and energy needed to make the project work. If a developer were to apply normal profit and loss calculations to this project, the project would have never been started. Temple Associates originally bought the building because the three general partners were dedicated, civic-minded
businessmen whose first priority was to save the building. The amount of donated hours in the Civic project was enormous. If the Executive Director were paid the prevailing wage for a job of its magnitude and if all of the volunteer hours of the original partners and the Foundation board members were charged at a normal rate, the project would never have been possible.
LESSONS LEARNED
An important and perhaps obvious lesson to be drawn from the successful effort to save the former Temple on the Heights is that adapting a sacred landmark for a new life in the secular world is a complicated and complex challenge. The starting point in this process is a clear vision shaped by a detailed market study that identifies and assesses alternative uses of the facility and projected revenue flows derivable from each. Market assessments may be tempered by the values of preservation and civic purposes, but these should not cloud assessments of financial realities.
From this follows decisions about the appropriate organizational form. A strategic business decision must be made in the effort to adapt sacred landmarks for other uses, whether to attempt to operate the facility as a for-profit or not-for-profit or public venture.
For-Profit: The attempt to operate the Civic as a for-profit business partnership with an array of full and limited partners was not particularly successful. Despite the commitment and apparent dedication of the partners, this approach appears to have floundered due to an array of operational cost and revenue problems, as well as complex and costly maintenance and restoration needs. If the projected use of a facility does not meet the "test of the market," the facility can be operated as a "business" only if some form of public subsidy in the form of tax exemptions or direct public payments can be justified.
Nonprofit: The transfer of the Civic from the Temple Associates partnership to the
Civic Foundation demonstrates the difficulties of adaptive reuse to commercial alternatives, particularly when the facilities require high maintenance and renovation costs. Nonprofit status removes the need to generate a return to stockholders or owners. It also creates an entity that can receive funding from foundations that, due to their legal status, can only make contributions to nonprofits, and an entity that can receive tax-deductible contributions from individuals and businesses. Nonprofit status, however, begins to define purpose. To sustain a facility as a nonprofit requires a compelling purpose and functions that are consistent with contributors’ charitable purposes and funding guidelines. Further, many foundations are precluded from, or very reluctant to fund, operating costs, particularly on an ongoing basis. The Civic Foundation appears to have found some success in creating a virtual incubator for artistic and religious endeavors. This model, however, was threatened by problems of tax arrears and capital renovations costs that were transcended only with great difficulty and financial innovation.
Public Use and Public Purpose: An alternative for adaptive reuse of sacred landmarks is acquisition by government for use in housing governmental units. This option was considered by the City of Cleveland Heights but rejected because of the very high cost of renovating the facility relative to new building construction. An intermediate alternative to public ownership is housing some government services that generate rental income for the facility. This could provide core tenants for both profit and nonprofit adaptive reuse. Another intermediate alternative is the use of public funds to facilitate adaptive reuse because the facility serves a historic and/or current public purpose. The Civic experience offers examples of state and city government providing funding, including the innovative use of linked deposits to generate resources to sustain and maintain the Civic.
The experience of the Civic also illustrates the depth and complexity of financial issues confronting adaptive reuse of sacred landmarks, as well as the complexity of financing to address these financial barriers. The transition from Ark to Art was underwritten by a wide variety of financing techniques, including equity investments through partnership of full and limited partners; foundation loans and grants and foundation and government linked deposits; private giving and local government funding; guaranteed loans; rental income; tax forgiveness;
debt transfer; balloon loans; tax deductible donations; federal Community Block Grant funding through the City of Cleveland Heights; State of Ohio Capital Budget allocations; Civic-sponsored fund raising programs; juried art shows; and low interest loans. In addition, the Civic explored federal Historical Tax Credits, Economic Development Administration grants, and congressional line item appropriations. The Civic’s experience with financing illustrates four important points: 1) A variety of traditional and non-traditional financial instruments are available, particularly for nonprofit entities. 2) These financial instruments need to be packaged to achieve viable financing approaches. 3) Workable approaches to financing require expertise, creativity, and innovation. 4) Plans for the adaptive reuse of sacred landmarks must be undergirded by sound financing strategies if they are to succeed.
Revealing the enormity of the efforts involved should not discourage others from attempting to carry out related plans. The travails and frustrations involved in creating and sustaining the Civic Foundation have been clearly identified, but the experience of the Civic also demonstrates the deep satisfaction of successfully meeting these challenges, of preserving a sacred landmark as a civic asset, and the privilege of contributing so substantially to one's community. It is hoped that this latter lesson learned will be more than a sufficient restorative for those daunted by the challenge.
**The Sacred Landmarks Initiative**
The Sacred Landmarks Initiative (SLI) is a program within the Urban Center of the Levin College of Urban Affairs, Cleveland State University, that provides information about Cleveland's religious structures and organizations and their past and present role in strengthening and maintaining communities within the Cleveland metropolitan area. The initiative's four primary activities include researching and documenting the architectural and aesthetic features of Cleveland's religious structures; providing guidance or referrals to religious institutions who wish to preserve their archival materials and artworks, including their stained glass windows; researching and documenting the human and social services engaged in by religious institutions; and researching and documenting the role that various religious institutions and their members have played in the history of Cleveland. The monograph presented here reflects this mission because it not only helps develop a caring concern about sacred places and their fate, but provides information useful for their preservation and ongoing usefulness.
The Sacred Landmarks Initiative of the Levin College Urban Center is one of four such organizations with a common mission that form the Sacred Landmarks Partnership of Northeastern Ohio. This partnership includes the initiatives at the University of Akron, Kent State University, and Youngstown State University, as well as the original one at Cleveland State University. Because preserving archival materials and artworks is a central purpose of the Initiatives, a Sacred Landmarks archive has been created and is maintained in partnership with the CSU University Library.
REFERENCES
1 Friends of St. Alphonsus (2/99), St. Alphonsus Art & Cultural Center [online] <www.stalphonsus.org> (accessed 7/25/00)
3 American Synagogue Restoration Project
4 American Synagogue Restoration Project
9 Klanfer, M.
11 vanDijk, Pace, Westlake & Partners, (5/17/93). Architectural and Engineering Planning Study - The Civic, Cleveland, OH
12 McPhail, K. (10/28/92). Report to General Partners, Cleveland, OH: Deloitte & Touche
13 Agreement with Mary Rose Oakar & Associates dated 2/14/95
14 Resolution 9-1996 (CRR), (1/96). Cleveland Heights City Council by Council Member Montlack
15 Resolution 9-1996 (CRR)
16 Grants of $394,000 from the City of Cleveland Heights, $150,000 from the State of Ohio, and $150,000 from the Gund Foundation; Linked Deposits of $250,000 from the Gund Foundation and $100,000 from Cleveland Heights; Loans of $50,000 from the City of Cleveland Heights and $188,000 from the Cleveland Foundation; private donations and tenant investment of approximately $400,000.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John J. Boyle, III is a 1962 graduate of Boston College who entered his family insurance business after graduating from college. At age 31 he was elected to Cleveland Heights City council and served for over 18 years as a member of Council, as Mayor and President of Council, as a member of the city's Housing Board, and as a member and Chairman of the Planning Commission. After retiring from City Council, Mr. Boyle became an original board member and the first chairman of the board of The Civic Foundation. He still serves as a member of the board of trustees.
Mr. Boyle began his masters degree in Urban Affairs at Cleveland State University in 1988, but was forced to take a nine year sabbatical to serve as a member of the university's board of trustees. After his service on the board was completed, he resumed his studies and is currently a master's candidate in Urban Planning and Development. Mr. Boyle is currently on leave from his insurance business and serving as Interim Vice President for Finance and Administration at Cleveland State.
THE CIVIC IN PHOTOGRAPHS
Laying the cornerstone for Temple on the Heights (B’nai Jeshurun Congregation), May 24, 1925. Rabbi Abraham Nowak, then spiritual leader of the temple, is in center behind flag-draped table.
The Great Hall (now home to New Spirit Revival), circa 1965.
Exterior of the Civic, circa 1966...
...and circa 2000
Above, the lobby doors to the Great Hall (now home to New Spirit Revival). The doors are largely the same as they were when the building was a temple, with the exception of the two panes in each door (now solid colored glass) that originally had etchings of Menorah and other symbols of Jewish religious life.
To the right, the staircase to the balcony (also in the lobby of the Great Hall.)
The Great Hall after renovations (fall 2000). |
Historical recipes for preparatory layers for oil paintings in manuals, manuscripts and handbooks in North West Europe, 1550-1900: analysis and reconstructions
Stols-Witlox, M.J.N.
Publication date
2014
Citation for published version (APA):
General rights
It is not permitted to download or to forward/distribute the text or part of it without the consent of the author(s) and/or copyright holder(s), other than for strictly personal, individual use, unless the work is under an open content license (like Creative Commons).
Disclaimer/Complaints regulations
If you believe that digital publication of certain material infringes any of your rights or (privacy) interests, please let the Library know, stating your reasons. In case of a legitimate complaint, the Library will make the material inaccessible and/or remove it from the website. Please Ask the Library: https://uba.uva.nl/en/contact, or a letter to: Library of the University of Amsterdam, Secretariat, Singel 425, 1012 WP Amsterdam, The Netherlands. You will be contacted as soon as possible.
Figure 4.1 Folio 62v of the manuscript of Cennini’s ‘Libro dell’arte’.
Photograph: © Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Florence. Manuscript available through http://teca.bmlonline.it
Chapter 4 Background: main developments in North West Europe c. 1400-1550
Now we come to the business of working on anconas or on panel
Cennini c. 1400, translation Thompson 1960
This chapter discusses the materials and layer structures of preparatory layers for oil painting before the year 1550 as it has been presented in earlier research. It serves as a background for the main period that is investigated in this dissertation. As stated in Chapter 2, only a relatively small number of recipes is available from before 1550 (see Appendix 4 for an overview of recipes from this period). The fact that a large number of these recipes has been written in Italy, restricts the data that apply to the main subject of this dissertation even further. Notwithstanding the scarcity of available historical recipes, it is important to provide an overview of current knowledge on the topic, since the developments that take place before 1550 continue and, as will be shown, influence more recent recipes for preparatory layers.
Fortunately, early Northern European oil painting has received considerable attention from both (art) historians and scientists, which has led to a considerable amount of technical data being available for this period. As described in the introduction, nineteenth and early twentieth century research has paid particular attention to developments in oil painting in the circle around the Van Eyck brothers and to the influence of their paintings on Italian artists. Published research on this topic includes transcriptions of a number of historical recipe books, many of these of Italian origin, in efforts driven at least in part by a desire to develop clarity about the ‘introduction’ of oil painting.
A considerable amount of analytical data have been published on the Flemish Primitives. The techniques employed in the earliest Italian paintings in oil executed on canvas, have
---
1 The Italian term employed is anchona. Lara Broecke, who is currently preparing a new English translation of Cennini, explains that: ‘there is no real equivalent in English and the Italian meaning isn’t very well defined either’. She writes that the term ‘does not appear in the Voce Crusca [=dictionary of the Italian language by the Accademia della Crusca. remark Stols-Witlox] in the 5th edition (1863-1923) where it is defined as a painted panel for an altar, usually shaped towards a point at the top’… however that the term ‘has also been used in some part of Italy for a diptych’. Broecke notes that others align ancona closely with the word icon. She concludes that all we can say with certainty is that ‘it’s something slightly more complex than simple ‘panel’, although the complexity can be manifested in many different ways in different times and places’. Many thanks to Lara Broecke for this information. (email correspondence, 26-10-2013.)
3 See Nadolny 2003 and Nadolny 2005 on this topic, as well as Brinkman 1993. Roy 2000 and White 2000 discuss the reception of Vasari’s theory and research regarding its veracity, by nineteenth and twentieth scientists.
4 From the early 1950s on, when consistent, long-term research into art historical as well as technical aspects of the Flemish primitives was initiated by amongst others Roger Marijnissen, Paul Coremans and Jean Thissen at the Brussels ‘Centre National de Recherches ‘Primitifs Flamands’”, a number of this center’s publications have included descriptions of technical examinations, for instance in the series ‘Contributions à l’étude des Primitifs Flamands’ (first volume published 1952), and in the corpus of Flemish primitives.
been described in publications that focused both on documentary research, including recipe research, and on scientific analysis. Together with the more dispersed information available on other historical recipe books and in combination with other studies on different aspects of preparatory layers for oil painting in North West Europe before 1550, this data provides enough information to allow for a discussion of the main developments during the 150 years directly preceding 1550. As a recent investigation by Spring and Higgitt (2006) has demonstrated that chemical interactions between the oil binder and pigments in the paint or ground films may in earlier investigations have resulted in false positives for proteinaceous binder additions, special care must be taken with early identifications of emulsion binders.\textsuperscript{5}
Although this dissertation focus on North West Europe, the present chapter also deals with developments in Italy. This is necessary, since, as will become clear, modern literature discusses the influence both areas have had on each other’s development. Prior research generally states that Medieval oil painting on panel in Northern Europe has influenced a transition from tempera to oil painting in Italy. Conversely, the introduction of oil painting on canvas, which is described as having taken place in Venice, is considered to have spread through Europe, reaching North West Europe later.\textsuperscript{7}
Developments in the colour employed for preparatory layers are described separately at the end of the present chapter.
4.1 Preparatory layers for wooden panels, c. 1400-1550
While earlier research (see below) has not found any evidence to indicate that oil paint is employed on canvas prior to the late fifteenth or early sixteenth century, the use of oil binding media on panel has been documented much earlier.\textsuperscript{8} Analysis of the scattered evidence that remains, has led to the conclusion that oil binding media may have played an important role in Northern Europe throughout the Middle Ages.\textsuperscript{9} Dunkerton et al. (1991) even suggest that oil was the ‘indigenous panel painting medium’ in medieval
\begin{itemize}
\item Important contributions to the present-day knowledge about the painting techniques of the Flemish primitives are the descriptions of paintings that appear regularly in the National Gallery Technical Bulletin. Volume 18 of this Bulletin is devoted solely to Flemish primitives and includes the results of the analysis of 45 paintings (Campbell, Foister and Roy 1997). In 1998, Mund and Stroo (eds.) published: Early Netherlandish painting (1400-1500): a bibliography (1984-1998), volume 8 of the Contributions à l’étude des Primitifs Flamands, Brussels: KIK/IRPA. These are just a few important contributions. References in Chapter 4 will concentrate on the most recent publications relevant to the present context. Focus lies only on those publications that provide evidence for their statements about the characteristics of preparatory layers, leaving aside those publications that do not substantiate claims about materials and techniques with references to specific information sources in the form of recipes or technical examinations.
\item For instance Bomford et al. 1989 (1996); Dunkerton et al. 1991; Martin et al. 1992; Dunkerton and Roy 1998; Löhr and Weppelmann 2008.
\item See Spring and Higgitt 2006
\item See for more information on the cultural and political boundaries and cross-currents in the period preceding Van Eyck for instance: Kemperdick and Lammertse 2012; see Aikema and Brown 1999 for information on trade and cultural cross-currents between Venice and Northern Europe; see Nuttall 2004 about the influence of Flemish artists on connections between artists from Florence and Flanders in the period 1400-1500.
\item Examples will be provided below.
\item Colman 1960; Plahter and Wink 1970; Plahter 1984; Tangeberg 1984; Straub 1984; Dunkerton et al. 1991; Brinkman 1993; Billinge et al. 1997; Massing et al. 2003; Plahter 2004; Binski et al. 2011; Hermens and Townsend 2012.
\end{itemize}
Northern Europe and egg tempera only a temporary fashion during the fourteenth century. In recent years, an increasing number of publications have appeared that document the use of oil binders in Medieval painted altars and polychrome sculpture.
Whereas recent publications suggest a more important role for oil in Northern Europe, published results of scientific analysis lead to the conclusion that in Italy, egg tempera was the most important binder employed in panel painting until at least 1400. However as Nuttall (2004) writes, oil was used in Italian workshops throughout the middle ages for other purposes (mordent gilding, varnishes, translucent glazes on metal leaf and some glazes in tempera paintings). Therefore knowledge of the basic properties of oils and of the preparation of oils for painting was present.
Evidence shows that the role of oil binding media in Italy increased during the fifteenth century. Dunkerton (1996), who together with her colleagues from the National Gallery in London has published widely on Italian painting techniques, describes the use of mixed techniques: oil and egg were sometimes combined within a single paint, they were used in alternate layers, or were combined within one painting but used in separate areas. Dunkerton for instance describes the use of opaque aqueous underpainting covered by transparent oil-based glazes. The earliest Italian example she has located that demonstrates such techniques is thought to date from the 1420s.
Dunkerton believes that the growing role of oil as a binder is the result of Flemish influence and mentions Flemish paintings that were on show in Italy, Flemish artists working in Italy and Italian painters travelling north as important stimuli for the transition from tempera-based techniques to oil-based painting. Also Nuttall (2004) describes a growing influence of Flemish models in Florence from about 1460 onwards, even though she notes a reluctance of Florentine painters to abandon traditional tempera painting techniques. Nuttall observes that the Florentine artists of the second half of the fifteenth century attempted to create effects similar to those observed in Flemish paintings ‘within the existing technical disciplines’. Dunkerton’s description of the techniques employed in the paintings investigated at the National Gallery London convincingly supports the theory
14 She remarks that the number of works examined (70) was limited. Dunkerton 1996: 29-34. Elsewhere Dunkerton expresses the fear that due to the low number of works having survived, the question of the transition from mainly tempera painting in Italy to the use of mainly oil as a paint binder for easel paintings may never be fully resolved. Dunkerton et al. 1991: 197
that the transition to oil painting in Italy was gradual and that even by the beginning of the sixteenth century it ‘was far from complete’.17
As will be seen, paint analyses and historical recipes demonstrate that in Italy, both the transition from mainly tempera painting to oil painting and the introduction of oil painting on canvas went hand in hand with developments in the layer build-up of preparatory layers and with the introduction of different materials. This suggests that these developments were related to the use of oil as a binder. The next paragraph will discuss these innovations in preparatory layers.
4.1.1 Preparatory systems for panel paintings during the fifteenth century
Historical recipes compiled in the published research18 in combination with analyses published by Straub, support the assumption that the grounds used in Medieval tempera painting were commonly bound in glue.19 It is generally accepted that North of the Alps these glue-bound grounds contained mainly chalk (CaCO₃) as filler, whereas in Italy gypsum (CaSO₄·nH₂O) was the predominant filler.20 Scientific analysis has shown that in Portugal and Spain both gypsum and chalk were employed.21 It has been concluded that the occurrence of both types of fillers was dictated by local availability, a hypothesis that is supported by several authors who analysed the paintings of a number of Dutch artists working in Italy and showed that in their Italian paintings, these artists make use of gypsum grounds.22 Fernandes Pombo Cardoso (2010) however in her study of grounds on Portuguese baroque altarpieces comes to a different conclusion regarding the occurrence of chalk and glue preparatory layers in Portugal. She questions the conclusions of earlier authors that artists only employed of local materials, rather she remarks that some of the panel paintings on which chalk grounds are found have strong ties to Flemish practice, which implies that established tradition with a specific material outweighs local availability.23
The calcium carbonate most frequently found in North European painting grounds is a marine sedimentation product consisting of the skeletal remains of small prehistoric invertebrate sea creatures. Microscopically small skeletal remains such as coccoliths and foraminifers are an important feature of this type of chalk and may provide the possibility
18 See below for information on these recipes, see also Appendix 4.
20 Straub 1984, Dunkerton et al. 1991; Gettens, Fitzhugh, Feller 1993: 216 etc.; Nadolny 2008. Early Italian example of calcium carbonate grounds are ca. 1260, Madonna statue, Lucca; Cimabue, Madonna with angels, Louvre (Straub 1984: 156). Gypsum was analysed in the thirteenth century Westminster Retable, produced in East Anglia, England. According to the authors, late Medieval paintings indeed show a general division between the use of chalk North of the Alps and gypsum South of the Alps, however analyses of early Medieval art shows more examples of the use of gypsum in North Europe (Binski and Massing 2011: 238).
22 San Andrés et al. 1997: 92. The same trend has been noted during the sixteenth century (Van de Graaf 1962: 471-472) and the seventeenth century (Plesters 1968: 263).
to determine its geographical origin. Calcium carbonate also appears in nature as precipitated limestone. However according to Straub (1984) and Dunkerton (1999) its use seems to have been less common than the marine sediment. Examples are known of the use of dolomite (mixture of CaCO₃ and CaCO₃·MgCO₃) in Medieval Burgundy, Bohemia and Poland and in the Alpine regions, where it was mined locally. Heydenreich (2007) in his research on Lucas Cranach concludes that this artist used mainly local limestone, since only in a few panel paintings the remains of fossils were found. Goldberg (1998) writes that in Dürer’s paintings, different calcium carbonates were used. Whereas some grounds were prepared with sedimentary chalk, chalks in other paintings show characteristics that point towards the use of rehydrated burnt calcium carbonate-containing rock or egg-shells. In German chalk and glue grounds, additions of gypsum or even of lead white to the chalk have been found. In contrast to gypsum, chalk does not require as much pre-treatment to prepare it for use in a ground. After collection, it was probably just washed and slaked to remove impurities and then mixed straight with animal skin glue.
Whether wooden boards were generally sized before ground application remains uncertain because of a lack of analytical data. The Bavarian ‘Liber Illuministarum’, or ‘Tegernsee manuscript’ (c. 1500) advises to soak the wood in glue three times before ground application. In some cases the support was covered with a layer of cloth or parchment, alternatively plant fibres. This preparatory step is not described in contemporary North European recipes, but Skaug (2008a) identified canvas, parchment and fibrous coverings on North European panel paintings dating from this period. Although Skaug remarks that much more research is required, he tentatively concludes that results so far seem to indicate that before 1500, North European artists most commonly employed strips of canvas or fibre to cover the joints of the boards, whereas in Italy more examples are found of panels covered completely with one or more canvas layers. Skaug furthermore writes that after 1500, such local differences were no longer apparent and notes that in general after that date, only fibres were used to cover the joints.
---
26 Heydenreich 2007: 93.
28 Straub 1984: 156.
29 Unfortunately hardly any fifteenth century North European recipes seem to have survived. For that reason, the much earlier treatise written by monk Theophilus is often cited in this context. Although probably written in the eleventh century, his descriptions are commonly considered to still apply to fourteenth century panel preparation. In the absence of other sources, his recipe for a ground preparation for panels on altarpieces or on doors is included here. Theophilus advised the use of burnt gypsum or of chalk to prepare panels. His recipe for a calcium carbonate ground specified grinding the calcium carbonate with water and adding animal glue. The mixture was applied up to three times onto the panel which had been covered with untanned, de-haired horse skin. Each layer was applied more thickly than the earlier. After ground application, the surface was scraped with ‘Schachtelhalm’ (reeds or rushes). Theophilus 11th century and later (edition London; John Murray 1847): 22-3.
30 ‘Liber Illuministarum’ c. 1500, transcribed by Bartl et al. 2005: 182-3. Research by (Witlox and Carlyle 2005: 520) compared 17th-19th century recipes for panel preparation and canvas preparation and showed that although for canvas preparation size layers are mentioned in a large proportion of the recipes, size layers are frequently omitted from panel preparation recipes.
31 Coverings were described by Cennini. Cennini c. 1400 (edition Frezzato 2003): 144.
32 Skaug 2008a: 24-9. See below for a discussion on the application of coverings in Italian panel paintings. Skaug describes the use of different types of whole or partial coverings on panel paintings from Italy.
Dunkerton et al. (1991) note that the Flemish and German chalk and glue grounds they investigated only rarely matched the greater thickness of Italian contemporary grounds. The authors relate this difference to the quality of the support, Italian panels (often poplar) having more defects and a rougher texture than the woods typically used in Northern Europe (oak, lime). Also the fact that full coverings were more common in Italy than in North European examples is possibly be related to the quality of the wood.
To prevent both gypsum and chalk and glue grounds from absorbing too much tempera paint binder, un-pigmented isolation layers are suspected to occasionally have been applied to grounds intended for tempera painting. This is supported by the fact that the Bavarian Liber Illuministarum (c. 1500) advises against their application to areas that would be gilded, probably because such layers would increase the hardness or brittleness of the ground and would therefore hinder the burnishing of gold leaf.
Oil paint application on an unsaturated glue-bound surface is more troublesome than on a more binder rich, saturated surface. Therefore isolation layers seem to have played a more important role in paintings executed in oil. Furthermore, uneven absorption of the paint binder can potentially be problematic when using the transparent oil-based glazes so typical of early Flemish and German oil painting, more so than when using opaque tempera paints.
The theory that non-pigmented oil, glue or oleoresinous isolation layers are a common feature of early oil painting is supported by several modern authors describing fifteenth and sixteenth century Middle and North European oil painting practice, who observed such layers in paint cross sections. However it must be noted that the thinness of the
---
33 Dunkerton et al. 1991: 164. Indeed, Cennini advised to fill defects with a mixture of strong animal glue and sawdust and then smooth them with a knife (Cennini c. 1400, edition Frezzato 2003: 142-3). Case studies from paintings confirm that some panels were repaired before the ground was applied. Uzielli reports that in Mediterranean countries, large boards sawn from the poplar tree usually contained some faults, even if very high quality wood was used (Uzielli 1998: 116).
34 Skaug notes the exception of the London National Gallery Wilton diptych (c. 1395-9), which was painted in Northern Europe but nevertheless has a full covering of parchment fibres. Skaug 2006: 195, note 75.
35 Bartl et al. 2005: 185, recipe 258. Billinge et al 1997: 23 describe the Tyrolean School Death of the Virgin and Saints Ambrose, Exuperius and Jerome (circle of Master of Liesborn) as paintings that only have an isolation layer in non-watergilded areas. Gifford et al. 2003 report the absence of the lead white pigmented isolation layer present in painted regions from gilded areas of an anonymous early Netherlandish quadriptych dated ca. 1400.
36 The fact that the absorbency of aqueous layers could be perceived as difficult was evident in a much later recipe. Apparently Bouvier (1827) had noted that some painters needed to be convinced of the benefits of aqueous –in his case starch-based– grounds: ‘If the sketch is a little more difficult to execute, this inconvenience does not exist anymore in the second painting; because here the sketch serves as the oil priming, and one paints on top with the same ease as on any other sketch: therefore the inconvenience is not large, and the advantages are positive’. Bouvier 1827: 573-7.
possible isolation layer combined with the absorbency of the ground makes a positive identification difficult, even uncertain. 38
Until recently, the capability of analytical techniques to identify the binder of generally very thin isolation layers was limited. Therefore the amount of data on the materials used in isolation layers is small. 39 A complicating factor for the determination of the binder, which should also be taken into consideration, is the mobility of binder components. Reconstructions by Carlyle, analysed by Keune (2005), have shown that binder components may become dispersed into other paint layers, even in the presence of intermediary isolation layers. 40
Pigmented isolation layers have been found on Northern European oil paintings dating from as early as the thirteenth century, produced in Norway and England. These first examples were of a whitish tone and consist of mainly lead white, thought to have been bound in oil. 41 Lead white is considered to have added to the ground’s luminosity, which would have been important in the Early Flemish manner of painting that uses transparent glazes and is described as having exploited the light reflecting properties of whitish preparatory layers. 42
During the period c. 1400-1550, the colours employed for pigmented isolation layers diversified. Since a number of modern authors relate this development to contemporary developments in canvas painting and describe colour developments in North Europe as following from the introduction of coloured grounds in Italy, the topic of colour will be discussed in more detail later, in Paragraph 4.3 of the present chapter, after an overview of preparatory layers employed in Italian panel and canvas painting has been provided.
4.1.2 Preparatory layers for panel paintings in Italy, c. 1400-1550
As will be seen, fifteenth century Italian recipes for preparatory layers for panel still mention the calcium sulphate fillers that were prescribed in earlier medieval recipes. Recipes also describe the use of animal glue size layers and parchment or canvas coverings. 43 Skaug (2006, 2008a) identifies the use of different types of coverings on
---
38 Which is also commented upon by Billinge et al 1997: 23. Increased fluorescence and a transparent region in a chalk and glue ground may be caused by the application of unpigmented isolation layers, but can also be the result of penetration of paint binder into the ground or the result of a phase separation inside the preparatory layers themselves. Carlyle et al. executed reconstructions based on a number of historical recipes and with these reconstructions demonstrated that a chalk and glue ground was partially impregnated by binder from the subsequent ground layer consisting of lead white in oil, which gave the chalk and glue layer the appearance of a double ground layer. Carlyle et al. 2008a: 117-118. Similar absorption is noted in Stols-Witlox et al. 2008: 85, 88 and in Vandivere 2013.
39 See Chapter 15 on streaky imprimaturas, which uses reconstructions as a means to obtain information on such thin layers.
40 Keune 2005: 74.
41 Kempski, 2003: 150. The Westminster retable is dated late thirteenth century (Binski et al. 2011). The Thornham Parva retable, produced in East Anglia, England, is dated c. 1335-40. In the Thornham Parva retable the picture planes are covered with a chalk and glue ground, a subsequent underdrawing and underpainting and an isolation layer of lead white in linseed oil (Bucklow 2003: 44).
43 Cennini provided instructions for local repairs of knots and other irregularities. Both Cennini and the anonymous fifteenth century ‘Bolognese manuscript’ describe the application of a glue size layer to the scraped support prior to ground application. ‘Bolognese manuscript’ 15th century (transcribed in Merrifield 1849 (1999): 594-5); Cennini c. 1400 (edition Frezzato 2003): 142-3, 147. Cennini also mentions the
panels dating from this period. Cennini (c. 1400) describes a preparatory system that consists of multiple coats of *gesso grosso* followed by coats of *gesso sottile* (Fig. 4.1). Indeed such preparatory layers are identified on a large number of medieval Italian paintings. Bomford et al. (1989) and Thomas (1995) both agree that ‘standard’ panels may have been prepared by specialists in this craft, whose existence was mentioned in contemporary sources. However Thomas quotes archival information that seems to indicate that in some cases, especially for larger altarpieces with a non-standard format, *gesso* application is performed by the workshop itself.
On the basis of their scientific investigations Dunkerton et al. (1991) conclude that a simplification in layer structure takes place during the fifteenth century. In a number of cases the National Gallery London researchers find only single grounds, consisting either of *gesso grosso* or *sottile*, *gesso sottile* mainly in areas North of the Appenines and *grosso* South of these mountains. They furthermore note that some painters vary between both types of *gesso*. Dunkerton *et al.* provide the example of Neri di Bicci, who leaves a written record that states that he prepared one crucifix with *grosso* and another with a *sottile* *gesso*. They report that in some paintings a combination of both types of *gesso* is present within a single layer. According to Martin (1992), the Tuscan school of painting forms an exception and continues producing grounds consisting of both the *grosso* and *sottile* layers.
application of a canvas ‘covering’ after sizing, before *gesso* application. It consisted of linen cloth soaked in glue. Cennini c. 1400 (transcribed in Frezzato 2003: 144).
4 Skaug’s investigations identified linen, parchment and fibrous coverings on panels in Medieval Italy. They were either applied below the ground or between ground layers. He concluded that their purpose was either to reinforce and homogenize the whole of the support, or they were applied locally to weak areas like the joints of planks or knots (Skaug 2006: 182-201; Skaug 2008a).
45 Two types of gypsum occur in nature: calcium sulphate dihydrate (CaSO\(_4\cdot2\)H\(_2\)O) and anhydrite (CaSO\(_4\)). They are rather gritty and hard, but apparently can be used as fillers without processing. Burning (and slaking) purifies them and makes them more suitable for the smooth grounds required for gilding. By burning calcium sulphate dihydrate, associated water is driven off. This is the process employed to make *gesso grosso*. See for detailed information on this process: Federspiel 1995; Zillich 1998; Santos Goméz 2008; Fernandes Pombo Cardoso 2010. Cennini’s instructions describe steeping the *gesso* in water and state that this soft powder, mixed with animal skin glue, was used for the *gesso sottile*. Cennini c. 1400 (edition Frezzato 2003: 145). Although Cennini prescribes burned gypsum mixed with animal skin glue for the *gesso grosso*, analyses of *gesso grosso* from Italian as well as Spanish paintings have shown that these layers can also contain mixtures of anhydrite with hemi-hydrate and sometimes even dehydrate (Straub 1984: 156-7; Dunkerton 1991: 163, Martin 1992: 82-92; San Andrés et al. 1997: 93-4). San Andrés suggests that these mixtures may result from a partial *de-hydration* of the gypsum that takes place over time (San Andrés et al. 1997: 98). It cannot be ruled out that mixtures may be the result of fluctuating burning conditions in medieval ovens. Indeed this topic is discussed by Fernandes Pombo Cardoso, who points out that such mixtures have longer setting times, which creates a longer window in which the mixture may be used. Fernandes Pombo Cardoso 2010: 84.
46 Examples of early analyses are given in Bones 1954; Gettens and Mrose 1954. More recent descriptions are available for instance from Straub 1984; Bomford 1989; Dunkerton et al. 1991.
48 Dunkerton et al. 1991: 163. It is interesting to note that also in descriptions of the paint layer build-up of artists from the North Netherlandish Leiden school, Van Duijn et al. and Vandivere note simplifications in a comparison of fifteenth and sixteenth century technique. They interpret them as sign of a transition to more economical painting methods. Van Duijn et al. 2011: 104-110; Vandivere 2011: 7
50 Dunkerton et al. 1999: 218. It cannot be ruled out that the mixture resulted from incomplete de- or re-hydration during the preparation of the gypsum by burning and slaking.
Air bubbles in the gesso preparation and scratches from scraping the panel after ground application that are noted in a number of paintings, led Dunkerton and colleagues to conclude that during the sixteenth century, grounds may have been applied less carefully than before.\textsuperscript{52} Dunkerton et al. (1991) link the apparent simplification in layer build-up to the gradual disappearance of gilding from paintings,\textsuperscript{53} which eliminates the need for an absolutely smooth support. In a later publication the same authors point out that gilding does not disappear completely and remains in use in some more traditional areas of Italy and in Germany, as well as for specific details in paintings from other artistic centres.\textsuperscript{54}
The gesso ground recipes provided by Cennini (c. 1400) and the fifteenth century ‘Bolognese manuscript’ do not reflect this simplification. Both sources mention a layer build-up consisting of both \textit{gesso grosso} and \textit{sottile}. However it may be significant to note here that both recipes appear to relate to tempera, not to oil painting.\textsuperscript{55} Filarete (Antonio Averlino) (c. 1452-62) describes oil painting on panel. From his recipe it is not clear whether the gesso consists of one or two layers, as the author does not pay much attention at all to gesso preparation and application. He only states that after the panel has received a gesso (‘ingessato’) and has been polished, a glue isolation layer and then a layer of oil paint are applied before the support is considered ready for oil painting.\textsuperscript{56}
4.2 Preparatory layers for canvas paintings, c. 1400-1550
Although canvas was employed for painting during the middle ages,\textsuperscript{57} oil binders were apparently not used to paint on this support. Of the few remaining fifteenth century
\textsuperscript{52} Dunkerton et al. 1999: 218, Dietz et al. 2011: 91. Heydenreich notes a pattern of scratches in the ground surface of some paintings by Cranach the Elder that appears to have been applied with a toothed plane (Heydenreich 2007: 94). Bruquetas-Galán describes how some Spanish sixteenth century panel paintings show cross-hatched diagonal scratches in the support that appear to have been applied deliberately, possibly to increase adhesion of the ground layers to the wood (Bruquetas-Galán 2002: 222-4).
\textsuperscript{53} Dunkerton et al. 1991: 163-4.
\textsuperscript{54} Dunkerton et al. 1999: 220.
\textsuperscript{55} Cennini c. 1400 (edition Frezzato 2003): 142-3, etc. After his description of panel preparation, Cennini describes gilding and tempera painting. It therefore appears that this recipe is connected to tempera painting. According to Merrifield, who transcribed the sections relevant to art, the Bolognese manuscript does not include any prescriptions for oil painting, although it does contain a reference to boiling oil. ‘Bolognese manuscript’ 15\textsuperscript{th} century (transcribed in Merrifield 1849 (1999): 594-5).
\textsuperscript{57} The extent to which canvas was employed during the Middle Ages is difficult to establish due to the low number of surviving works. If we would base our understanding on the number of paintings preserved in public collections and on the attention medieval panel paintings have received in the modern literature, it would even seem that during the Middle Ages the use of canvas supports was rather exceptional (See for instance Billinge et al. 1997: 16, who note that the majority of Flemish and German paintings dating from 1400-1550 in the collection of the National Gallery in London is on panel.) However documentary evidence suggests a more regular use of canvas (Dunkerton et al. 1991: 161). Both Wolfthal and Dunkerton partially attribute this discrepancy to the lower durability of canvas paintings, a hypothesis that is supported by the often degraded and fragile state of the few surviving examples (Wolfthal 1989, Dunkerton et al. 1991). Apart from the supposed influence of the support and aqueous technique on the stability of the painting, also its function may have played a role: According to (Dunkerton et al. 1991: 161), canvas was the usual choice for temporary decorations. Wolfthal 1989 describes its use as a lightweight alternative for panel for paintings that had to travel, as temporary decorations and as alternatives to wall tapestries (Wolfthal 1989). See also Heydenreich 2007, who discusses early oil painting on canvas in the context of Cranach.
paintings on canvas,\textsuperscript{58} both Flemish and Italian, only a small number has been analyzed to date, and the results suggest the use of aqueous binding media, which places such canvases outside the scope of the present research.\textsuperscript{59}
The general understanding is that the first canvas paintings executed in an oil binder were painted in Venice just before 1500.\textsuperscript{60} Dunkerton \textit{et al.} (1991) link their appearance to the damp conditions in Venice, which do not favour the use of panel or fresco, both being moisture sensitive. This is a strange theory, as canvas is also sensitive to moisture. The preparatory systems of the first canvas paintings, described below, often includes aqueous layers. This would result in a moisture sensitive system. As noted by Vasari 1550 (edition 1568), the greater ease of transporting canvas by rolling may have contributed to their popularity over panels. In particular in Venice, where canals inhibit road transport and necessitate light water crafts, this advantage may have been an important one.\textsuperscript{61}
Apparently many Venetians were quickly won over by the characteristics and possible advantages of canvas paintings. Of the next generation of painters, Titian (1485-1576) and Veronese (1528-1588) both painted almost exclusively on canvas.\textsuperscript{62} Koller (1984) points out that in some Italian cities, like Rome and Florence, panel remained the favoured support until well into the sixteenth century.\textsuperscript{63} Miedema and Meijer (1979), who investigated the introduction of coloured grounds in the Netherlands, concluded on the basis of their calculations of the number of paintings in several large exhibitions executed on either support, that during the sixteenth century the fashion for canvas spread to Spain and that its use in Northern Europe also increased quickly. A tie with Venice seems legitimate, since their investigations showed that Venice acted as forerunner and influenced artists, such as the Haarlem Mannerists in the Netherlands.\textsuperscript{64}
\textsuperscript{58} Executed on linen (in most cases) or silk of a very fine weave. Wolfthal 1989; Dunkerton \textit{et al.} 1991.
\textsuperscript{59} Koller describes how aqueous paintings on fine canvas continue to be executed in sixteenth century Flanders. Koller 1984: 290. Of the nine canvases whose analysis was described by Wolfthal (1989), a ground layer could be detected in only five. These ground layers were thin and were described as bound with animal glue. Some contained chalk, others earth pigments. Wolfthal 1989: 24-25. Wolfthal supposes that in cases where no ground was detected at least a size layer must have been used to prevent bleeding of the paint into the canvas. The fact that coloured preparations were seen is interesting in relation to the introduction of coloured grounds, which in North West Europe took place much later than contemporary watercolour paintings on canvas. See also Dunkerton \textit{et al.} 1991: 164. Straub (1984), Wolfthal (1989) and Dunkerton \textit{et al.} (1991) discuss a number of recipes that describe preparatory layers for aqueous paintings on canvas. Those recipes also mention animal glue size layers or animal glue as binder for a thin ground layer. In addition, gum Arabic is mentioned. The sources mentioned by these authors include Heraclius, twelfth century (see Straub 1984: 151) and Le Begue (transcription dated c. 1431) (transcribed in Merrifield 1849 (1999): 85 etc.). Cennini described a layer of animal glue followed by a thin layer of \textit{gesso sottile} to fill the canvas interstices, applied using a knife. This layer contained a little starch or sugar to raise it’s flexibility. After drying, it was scraped down with the same knife to ensure its thinness. Cennini c. 1400 (edition Frezzato 2003): 182-3.
\textsuperscript{61} Vasari 1550 (edition 1568: 53
\textsuperscript{63} Koller 1984: 292. Dunkerton and Spring 1998’s survey of Italian sixteenth century paintings shows a similar contrast in different Italian regions. Naturally one must keep in mind here that the exact ratio may have been influenced by collecting policy.
\textsuperscript{64} Miedema and Meijer 1979: 87. Abraham (1989) wrote an interesting master thesis on the Haarlem mannerists’ use of coloured grounds. She combined microscopic examination and painting examination with
Given these signs of Italian influence, it is not surprising that a number of modern authors discuss North European canvas preparations in relation to the materials and techniques used for canvas preparation in Italy.
4.2.1 Preparatory layers for canvas in Italy
It seems logical to assume that the materials traditionally used for panel grounds would initially be employed for canvas preparation as well. Due to the low number of surviving fifteenth century oil paintings on canvas, analytical data on their grounds is unfortunately rare. Paolo Uccello’s *St. George and the dragon* (probably early 1470s) is executed in oil on canvas prepared with a first layer of gesso (calcium sulphate), which corresponds to preparatory layers employed for contemporary panel painting.
Analyses by Dunkerton & Spring (1998) confirm that thin gesso grounds continued to be used in Venetian canvas paintings during the sixteenth century. In the majority of the cases investigated, gesso layers were applied as single grounds. Analyses of oil paintings on canvas from other Italian regions also indicate the use of single gesso grounds. Koller (1984) provides examples of the addition of other materials to gesso layers, such as smalt, found in some of Tintoretto’s paintings (before 1550/60) and lead white, found in the paintings of Salviati (dated circa 1530-40).
Both Birkmaier (1995) and Dunkerton & Spring (1998) performed analyses of Titian’s grounds. They report that in some cases Titian worked straight on a gesso/glue ground but that he also employed gesso grounds covered with a whitish or light coloured oil ground, a layer build-up very similar to contemporary panel grounds.
Dunkerton & Spring (1998) describe how a number of paintings executed by the generation of painters after Titian were painted on coloured, oil-based grounds applied straight to the (sized) canvas. In the Venetian examples discussed, the grounds had grey, greenish grey, reddish or brown hues and consisted of pigments and fillers such as lead white, gypsum, earths and blacks, with the addition of siccatives such as minium or litharge. A recipe by Vasari (1550) explains that a canvas that needs to be rolled should
---
data from historical sources. Also the oeuvre of Lambert Lombard (Liège 1505-6/1566) contains a number of oil paintings on canvas, whose technique and materials are discussed below. Sanyova and Saverwyns 2006.
65 On top of this layer, an orange-red layer was applied consisting of ochre and a little lead white, bound in walnut oil. Although this layer was thought to be part of the preparation of the canvas in an earlier publication, more recent research has indicated that the canvas is likely to have reused. Dunkerton and Roy 1998: 27
66 Dunkerton and Spring 1998.
68 Birkmaier et al. 1995: 119; Dunkerton et al. 1999: 271. (Dunkerton and Spring 1998: 126, 128) report the use of gesso grounds covered with a white (lead white ) priming layer in three of the seven white primings found, next to one example of a light grey priming layer, supposedly in oil, on a first layer consisting of gesso.
69 See Paragraph 5.2
70 Dunkerton and Spring 1998’s tables show that also some paintings produced outside of Venice did not give any evidence of the application of a gesso layer before the white or coloured priming layer was applied. In their paper the authors describe that for each painting they used two, preferably more samples. This decreases the chance that gesso layers may have been missed during sampling.
not receive a gypsum and glue layer because this layer would flake upon rolling. Whether this indeed is the reason behind the omission of a gesso layer in the examples mentioned by Dunkerton and colleagues, cannot be proven.
4.2.2 Preparatory layers for canvas in North and Central Europe
Unfortunately very little analysis has been performed on the few sixteenth century North European oil paintings on canvas that have been preserved. The low number of surviving cases does not allow for comprehensive conclusions about the technique of such paintings. We do know however that chalk and glue grounds were employed in a number of these cases, covered with a white or coloured second ground. Billinge et al. (1997) describe the use of a chalk and glue preparatory layer for a Cologne Cycle of the life of Saint Lawrence, dated 1510. Analyses of a number of paintings from within the oeuvre of Lambert Lombard (Liège, 1505/06-1566) show that for his oil paintings this artist employed canvases that were covered with a thin chalk/glue ground on top of which a thin, greyish imprimatura was applied that consisted of lead white, chalk, black and in some cases a red pigment. Panel paintings attributed to Lombard’s studio are not executed with such tinted imprimaturas. Here, researchers Saverwyns and Sanyova just find thin oil ‘isolation layers’ that contain a little lead white.
It is interesting to note that Lombard’s workshop apparently employed a different preparatory system and colour depending on whether the ground was applied to panel or canvas. Research by Heydenreich (2007) on the painting technique of Lucas Cranach the Elder shows that this artist also uses different preparations for panel and canvas. While Cranach nearly always employed chalk and glue grounds on panel, analysis of some of his canvas paintings show a different size layer and first ground layer binder. Here he used a size layer of glue and flour paste, a first ground that contained glue, flour paste and chalk and subsequently a layer of lead white and calcium carbonate in drying oil.
The Bavarian Liber illuministarum (c. 1500) provides differing recipes for the preparation of panel and canvas. Whereas for panel a layer build-up consisting of chalk and glue followed by an oil-based pigmented layer is advised, the preparatory system described for canvas consists of a glue and flour paste size layer, a layer of ‘whiting’ (probably chalk and glue), and finally - and only if the cloth is intended for oil painting- an isolation layer of oil.
73 The fact that the National Gallery in London only owns five Netherlandish school canvas paintings that fall within this period, of which a number are categorized as aqueous paintings without grounds, against a much larger number of panel paintings, demonstrates their scarcity. Billinge et al. 1997: 24.
74 Billinge et al. 1997: 24. The authors remark that such cycles may have had a ‘decorative function; they were cheap substitutes for tapestries’.
75 Sanyova and Saverwyns 2006: 270.
76 Sanyova and Saverwyns 2006: 295.
77 Heydenreich 2007: 245.
78 Nadolny 2008 provides an overview of terminology related to preparatory layers for panel supports before c. 1550.
79 Bartl et al. 2005: 184-185. A paste was boiled of flour and glue, which was applied as a size layer. Subsequently, a layer of ‘weyss’ ['weyss', chalk] was applied, and for oil painting this layer was impregnated with oil.
The advice to use an oil-based isolation layer, white or tinted, is comparable to contemporary Italian practice. The fact that instead of gypsum, these North European preparatory layers contain chalk is not surprising if we consider the local availability of both materials. So far no evidence of intermediary glue isolation layers has been found in North European paintings and the small number of investigated works from this period and region prevents a final conclusion on this topic. However animal glue isolation layers are described in contemporary Italian recipes.\textsuperscript{80}
4.3 Developments in ground colour, c. 1400-1550
Whereas the published research thus far indicates that fourteenth and early fifteenth recipes for preparatory layers describe white grounds\textsuperscript{81} and while analyses of contemporary paintings indeed finds whitish ground layers, it is evident that during the late fifteenth century the first examples of coloured grounds appeared. The question whether such coloured layers first appeared on canvas or on panel remains unresolved and will only be answered through the examination of a statistically significant number of paintings. The data assembled so far (see below) seems to point at a simultaneous introduction of coloured grounds for both supports.\textsuperscript{82}
In Northern Europe, some early fifteenth century Flemish and German artists are reported to have employed light, slightly toned lead white imprimaturas on panel, instead of purely white preparatory layers.\textsuperscript{83} For instance Jan van Eyck (ca. 1390-1441) and Hubert van Eyck (c. 1385/90-1426) used an warm white oil based layer (lead white with a minor addition of red) to cover the chalk and glue ground of the \textit{Ghent altarpiece,}\textsuperscript{84} Van der Weyden (1399/1400-1464) employed lead white with a black and a red pigment, with possibly the addition of some calcium carbonate, in an oil-bound second ground layer for his \textit{Descent from the Cross.}\textsuperscript{85} Ferreira, Morrison and Boon (2008) found a pigmented imprimatura layer of the \textit{Sherborne triptych} (c. 1480).\textsuperscript{86} Early examples of more strongly coloured ground layers on panel appeared late in the fifteenth century and during the first part of the sixteenth century.\textsuperscript{87}
Miedema and Meijer’s research (1979) shows that in the Netherlands, coloured grounds on panel only became more frequent towards the end of the 16th century.\textsuperscript{88} The colour of such panel imprimaturas is described in Koller’s overview (1984) as ranging from grey (observed in several panel paintings dating from the later 16th century) to pink or ochre...
\textsuperscript{80} Vasari 1550 (edition 1568): 53; Armenini 1587: 124-5
\textsuperscript{81} The only fifteenth century source located so far that hints at the use of different colours is Filarete (Antonio Averlino) 1452-62 in Van de Graaf 1958, citing (Oetingen 1890: 641)): 112, who states ‘If it is white, it’s good, and also if it another colour, it does not matter which colour it is’.\textsuperscript{82} Dunkerton and Spring’s overview of grounds on Italian paintings from the National Gallery London collection reveals no patterns that linked the introduction of coloured ground colour to either support. Dunkerton and Spring 1998.
\textsuperscript{83} See Heydenreich 2007: 103 for examples.
\textsuperscript{84} Brinkman 1993: 212-3. Brinkman describes staining tests by Coremans that point to the use of oil.
\textsuperscript{85} Ferreira, Morrison and Boon 2008: 54-56.
\textsuperscript{86} Ferreira, Morrison and Boon 2008: 57.
\textsuperscript{87} See for additional examples Noble 2004; Vandivere 2011: 9.
\textsuperscript{88} Miedema and Meijer 1979: 79-98.
The general view is that coloured ground or imprimatura layers were introduced earlier to Italy than in North Europe. However, the notion that coloured grounds or imprimatura layers in North West Europe appeared under the influence of Italian examples does remain difficult to prove. Although the chronology of their introduction in different regions seems to point in this direction, coloured grounds becoming a general feature of Italian paintings sooner than of North European paintings, one may question whether such a chronology sufficiently proves this theory. Evidence does however exist of contacts between North and South Europe, as was mentioned above in relation to the ‘introduction’ of oil painting in Italy. Cross-fertilization seems logical and examples have been discussed in the literature.
The investigation by Dunkerton and Spring (1998) of the preparatory layers of nearly 140 sixteenth-century Italian paintings in the collection of the National Gallery in London provides the most extensive and convincing published evidence of the use of coloured grounds in Italian paintings, although the introduction of coloured grounds in Italy was certainly investigated by earlier researchers. Dunkerton and Spring’s research leads to the conclusion that a modification is required of the reputation of Venice as Italy’s most innovative artistic centre in this age. Dunkerton and Spring show that Venetian painters, although early in their adaptation of canvas supports for oil painting, did not play an innovative role when it comes to the development of coloured grounds. In contrast to surrounding artistic centres, where numerous examples were found of the use of coloured grounds, most works by Venetian painters examined continued using white, often gesso-based grounds throughout the sixteenth century. Furthermore, the examples of Venetian coloured grounds that are found, all date from the second half of the century, while in other regions mid to dark toned ground layers or imprimatura layers are found on paintings from the 1520s onwards, with some even earlier examples. Dunkerton and Spring (1998) describe Correggio, Dossi, Parmigianino, and a the Brescian painters as forerunners whose oeuvres contain the earliest examples of markedly tinted imprimaturas, consisting of earth pigments or lead white tinted with earth pigments and with additions of black pigments.
(Korean and Dutch panels from the late 16th century). The technical differences between Jan Breughel the Elder’s painting of the The numbering at Bethlehem (1566) and copies of the same painting made by the Brueghel studio around 1600-1618, demonstrate this transition. Whereas the master painting was executed over a white imprimatura based on lead white, many of the copies have a light ochre colour or orange-beige imprimatura, sometimes used in the final composition.
Light to mid toned grounds (light grey, grey, light brown, warm brownish grey) are found most in paintings executed north of the Appenines, while more strongly or darker coloured grounds appear less frequently in those regions.
Publications by Noble (2004) and by Heydenreich (2007) indicate that the first examples of markedly coloured imprimatura layers that up to now have been found on paintings created in countries situated centrally between Italy and North Europe, also date from the first half of the sixteenth century. Just after 1500, Lucas Cranach the Elder employed light reddish or pinkish imprimaturas on panel, although he simultaneously continued painting on whitish imprimatura layers based on lead white. Heydenreich draws a convincing comparison between Cranach’s use of light red imprimaturas as background for underdrawings, and this artist’s use of light red toned paper for sketching. In early examples from Cranach’s oeuvre, the imprimatura covers the underdrawing. However in later paintings Cranach executed his underdrawing on top of the coloured imprimatura.94 The imprimatura would thus indeed function as a base colour for the compositional sketch.
Heydenreich’s examinations furthermore indicate that Cranach the Elder sometimes diverted from the application of traditional chalk and glue grounds below the pigmented imprimatura in his panel paintings. His oeuvre contains some examples of the use of reddish preparatory layers that contain red lead and lead white (with calcium carbonate). Reddish grounds seems to be rather rare around this date, although some examples from other artists have been published.95 Whether their use points to a particular purpose for the finished paintings, for instance outdoor placement, as suggested by Heydenreich, remains unresolved.96
Also Hans Holbein’s paintings are often mentioned as early examples for the use of coloured imprimaturas North of Italy. From the 1530s on, this artist employed both salmon-pink and grey imprimaturas on his panels.97 The present state of knowledge does not allow an answer to the question if Cranach and Holbein should indeed be seen as exceptionally early examples or if around this time the use of coloured imprimaturas was widespread in Central Europe; research with a wider scope would be required to answer this question.
In Italy, Vasari (1550, edition 1568) had described the application of an imprimatura as an even, non-patterned layer.98 However sometimes imprimaturas were applied with deliberate streakiness. Although Jan Brueghel the Elder is often associated with such application methods, streaky imprimaturas have also been documented in some paintings
96 This is suggested by Heydenreich for the reason that oil-based grounds are more water-resistant. Heydenreich 2007: 97.
98 Vasari 1550 (edition 1568): 52. In the translation of: Brown/Maclehose 1960: 230:’ this [ground] must be plastered over the panel and then beaten with the palm of the hand, so that it becomes evenly united and spread all over, and this many call the ‘imprimatura’.”
by Lucas Cranach, by Hans Memling and by Barthel Bruyn the Elder. All these examples were created outside of Italy.
Sometimes double grounds with only oil as a binder appear to have been used. Christie (1988), who examined cross sections of a substantial number of sixteenth and seventeenth paintings, found evidence in paintings dated from the first half of the sixteenth century for the use of double grounds that consist of a lower layer based mainly on earth pigments (with additions of perhaps lead white, minium, black), covered by a top layer consisting of lead white, toned with pigments such as black, ochre, umber, red earth pigments, minium or vermilion. Notwithstanding its frequent use in seventeenth century painting, this type of ground is not described in historical recipes before 1676, when first advised as a ground for canvas preparation by Frenchman Félibien.
Evidence suggests that painters did not always stick to the same ground colours. In a number of case studies, variations were reported. For instance both grey, brown and pinkish-grey grounds are observed in paintings by Correggio. Dunkerton and Spring (1998) describe the use of both whitish and moderately coloured grounds for Francia, Garofalo, Lotto, Veronese, Bordon and Palma Vecchio. A relation between ground colour and subject has been impossible to establish in these cases. However, it is suggested for some later painters (see Chapter 8).
4.4 Conclusions
As can be seen from this survey of the published literature, investigations focused on the period c. 1400-1550 depend much more on instrumental analysis than on recipe research. Although a number of recipes that describe Italian practice are available, documentary evidence for artist techniques North of the Alps remains scarce. It is hoped that future research into this area will reveal more material.
By incorporating published literature that focuses on the analysis of paintings from this time period, it is possible to create an overview of techniques and materials employed in preparatory layers in North, Middle and South Europe. However, the information available is not well divided over the different geographical areas and partially consists of relatively early publications. Studies have focused on Italian Medieval and Renaissance techniques. Also the techniques employed in early Flemish painting have received considerable attention. On the other hand, most studies dealing with techniques employed within
---
100 Billinge et al. 1997: 22.
101 Christie 1988: 89.
103 Dunkerton et al. 1999: 272.
104 Dunkerton and Spring 1998: 122.
105 Systematic research on the Flemish primitives started in the 1950s at the KIK/IRPA in Brussels. The series of colloquia titled ‘Les dessins sous-jacent’ have made important contributions. Other examples of research are found in the work of the National Gallery London; in publications by the KIK/IRPA (see http://www.closertovaneyck.kikirpa.be), by Boersma et al. 2012. Also research by Van Asperen de Boer and Mollie Faries has contributed to our knowledge of techniques employed by the Flemish primitives. Notwithstanding this fact, technical descriptions of certain methods are still lacking. For instance (Nuttall 2000: 172) mentions the existence of a number of paintings by or from the circle of Van Eyck that were executed on parchment or paper attached to oak panels. No analytical data on the preparatory layers employed
92
German speaking countries and in France concentrate on single artists, or describe the techniques of a rather small group of painters. Information on British fifteenth and early sixteenth century painting is also very scarce.\textsuperscript{106}
To conclude, possibilities for a general overview of the period are limited. While a good level of knowledge has been developed on the basis of the investigation of paintings from important artistic centres and time periods, the historical recipes that are now available do not sufficiently cover the time period to allow for a meaningful overview of the time period before 1550.
\textsuperscript{106} Information on a number of British paintings is available through Christie 1988 (unpublished); Hackney et al. 1999. Tate Galleries in London have recently examined their collection of Tudor paintings and a publication of the results of these investigations is being prepared. Oral communication Klaas-Jan van den Berg, RCE, May 2013. |
Graduating BFA students should use this guidebook as a resource for navigating deadlines, expectations and document due dates needed to showcase their final exhibition of work in the Martin Museum of Art.
Exhibition Contract
What is an exhibition contract?
A contract is intended to set forth an agreement or arrangement between the University and an outside party.
**Legally Binding**
A contract is a legally binding agreement consisting of promises to perform, and imposing duties on the parties to perform as promised. A party may be in breach of the contract if it fails to perform.
**Formal Agreement**
The Exhibition Contract is a formal and legal agreement between you, Baylor University, and the Martin Museum of Art. By signing, you are agreeing to provide, perform, and otherwise meet the obligations of that contract.
**Know what you’re agreeing to**
It is always important to review and fully understand the requirements placed upon you in a contract, and know what you are agreeing to.
**The Obligations**
If you cannot meet these obligations, you may not be able to participate in the BFA Senior Exhibition.
**CONTACT**
Allison Chew, Director; Martin Museum of Art, Allison_Chew@baylor.edu
The first part (I) of your contract will include BASIC DETAILS of the exhibition, including the party (YOU) included in the contract, exhibition title, dates, and other information.
**01 Contract Date**
This is the date that your contract is created.
**02 Exhibition Title**
*BFA Senior Exhibition*
**03 Exhibitor/Artist**
That’s You!
**04 Exhibition/Dates**
The dates that the public can view your exhibition.
---
**STUDENT EXHIBITION CONTRACT**
**CONTRACT DATE:** ____________, 2022
I. **EXHIBIT INFORMATION**
**EXHIBITOR/ARTIST:**
**EXHIBITION TITLE:**
**EXHIBITION DATES:**
**EXHIBITION DESCRIPTION:**
---
The second part (II) of your contract details all the IMPORTANT DATES you need to remember. This includes due dates for files and information, installation dates, and exhibition dates.
**Important Dates**
For specific dates related to your exhibition, please visit the BFA Information page at the Martin Museum of Art website.
II. **IMPORTANT DATES**
XXX – Contract Signature Due
XXX – All digital files due
XXX – Students Install Exhibition (schedule of times TBA)
XXX - Exhibition Opens 10 am
XXX - Exhibition Closes
XXX - Uninstall and pick-up work. Artwork must be removed from Museum no later than XXX.
The third part (III) of your contract will explain what the MUSEUM WILL DO for your exhibition. This section includes information about insurance coverage, supplies/materials, sales, security provided, etc.
III. BAYLOR RESPONSIBILITIES
A. SELECTION OF WORK
In accordance with its mission, Baylor University and the Martin Museum of Art reserve the right to determine whether artwork is appropriate for public display at Baylor.
B. INSURANCE/SECURITY:
Baylor University will insure the items in the Exhibition at the agreed upon consignment value between the insured and the owner, while they are in the University’s care, custody or control according to the terms and conditions of its Fine Arts Insurance policy. Any loss is covered on a replacement cost or functional “like, kind, and quality” replacement value.
If the items remain past the date required removal noted above, the University is not liable for any damage, loss or theft of the work.
The Martin Museum is rated moderate to high security and features a computerized alarm system with 24 hr security camera monitoring, LED track lighting (no natural light), and an attendant or gallery guard on duty during open hours.
C. PUBLICITY/REPRODUCTION:
Baylor University reserves the right to photograph exhibited works individually and as installed and to reproduce such images for Baylor University publications for the purposes of publicity and education connected with any exhibition.
Insurance Coverage
☐ The Museum provides insurance coverage for your artwork via a policy from Baylor University.
☐ Any loss is covered on a replacement cost or functional like, kind and quality replacement.
☐ Coverage is provided under this policy for property on consignment/loan at the consignment value agreed upon (the value you assign in your inventory that we accept) between the insured (That’s Baylor and the Martin) and owner (that’s you).
☐ Coverage is terminated outside the contractual dates of drop-off and pick-up of artwork per the contract. (If you leave your work past the pick-up date, it will not be covered by insurance if something happens to it.)
Assigning Value to Your Work
There are an infinite number of ways to arrive at a dollar value for your artwork. Consider the following as you assign values for insurance or retail prices.
☐ The cost of the materials used to make the work: paint, canvas, ink, paper, framing supplies, specialized tools...
☐ The amount of time you invested in creating the work. Consider using an hourly payment method. (10 hours of time at $30/hr, for example)
☐ You can also use a “square inch” approach that charges a flat rate per square inch of work. ($10 per sq. in.; 200 square inches, for example)
Supplies/Materials
☐ The Museum will provide basic materials to install your exhibition. (Nails, hammers, screws, drills, tape measures, levels, and marking tape.)
☐ The Museum will fabricate and print labels for all of your artwork, your artist statement, as well as a name label to hang above your work.
☐ Special needs will be negotiated through the installation proposal. (The Museum may be able to provide some specific materials, but you may be responsible for others)
Sales
☐ The Museum will allow work to be sold, but it must remain on display for the entirety of the exhibition. (Prospective buyer will be given your contact information to pursue sale of work).
☐ The Museum will not negotiate sale of work for exhibitor/artist.
☐ The Museum will not communicate value of work to prospective buyer.
☐ The Museum will not take any monies for the sale of work to be transferred to exhibitor/artist (that’s you).
☐ The Museum will not take any portion of the sale.
Security
☐ The Museum provides security for all exhibitions through:
• 24-hour security camera monitoring.
• Gallery attendants during public hours.
• Motion sensor alarm system used when Museum is closed.
☐ The Museum will not communicate value of work to prospective buyer.
Reproduction of Artwork
☐ The Museum will use images of your work individually and as installed for the purposes of publicity and advertising.
Exhibition Layout
☐ The Museum Director determines the layout of the exhibition.
☐ Layout is determined based on number and scale of works submitted in inventories, and exhibition installation proposals.
Online Exhibition
☐ The Museum will host an digital version of your exhibition in conjunction with the in-person exhibition.
The fourth part (IV) of your contract details everything that will be YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. This includes sharing of information, installation, and so on.
Work Selection
☐ This section outlines the system of minimum and maximum works you are required to submit for exhibition in order to graduate. This system is 7 works minimum, 10 works maximum. Graphic Designers will submit an additional portfolio.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>IV. STUDENT RESPONSIBILITIES</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A. WORK SELECTION</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Work(s) displayed must be from the Student’s major area of study and must have been created during the Student’s junior and/or senior year(s). A maximum of seven to ten (7 to 10) works will be displayed, depending on space availability. Graphic Designers must submit a portfolio with 7 to 10 works represented.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Transportation Section: Getting Your Work to Us
☐ This section outlines how and when you will get your work to the Museum. With some exhibitions, this involves shipping work, but not in your case. Some contracts allow for stipends to cover shipping costs, but this does not apply to your exhibition, as you are creating the work down the hall!
There will be a deadline for having all work in the exhibition space as well as removing it. (This is in connection to insurance coverage and making sure you have plenty of time to install your work before the exhibition opens to the public.)
If work is left in the Museum outside these dates, it is not covered by the University, and the Museum is not liable for any damage, loss, or theft of the work.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>B. SHIPPING:</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Artwork must arrive at the Museum by: ____________________________</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Artwork must be removed from the Museum by: ____________________________</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>SHIPPING ADDRESS</th>
<th>POSTAL ADDRESS</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Martin Museum of Art</td>
<td>Martin Museum of Art</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Baylor University</td>
<td>Baylor University</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>60 Baylor Avenue</td>
<td>One Bear Place #91263</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Waco, TX 76706</td>
<td>Waco, TX 76798-7263</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Work must be shipped in sturdy, reusable cartons prepared at the exhibitor’s expense. Baylor will not pay for cartons or crate building.
- **Do not use loose “peanuts” packing material. Bagged “peanuts” are acceptable.**
- Arrangements for delivery and return shipping are to be made by the exhibitor.
The exhibited property may not be removed from Baylor University by the Artist during the noted Exhibition Dates without the written consent of the Director of Martin Museum of Art.
Exhibitor/Artist Checklist: Files You Agree to Submit
This section details all files and information that will be your responsibility, along with a deadline.
C. EXHIBITOR/ARTIST CHECKLIST
THE FOLLOWING ITEMS ARE DUE ON OR BEFORE THIS DATE: November 4, 2021
Please submit all items via the Martin Museum of Art website.
- High-resolution images of Exhibition pieces (for publicity and catalog).
- Brief Artist Statement (250-350 words) – Please consult with Student’s professor for guidance.
- Artwork Inventory Statement – Please use the Inventory Template and provide a complete inventory of work including title, medium, dimensions, year, insurance value, and price if work is for sale, otherwise indicate NFS in Excel document (template will be provided) Title of completed inventory should be last name, first initial, Preliminary (or Final) Inventory
- Pedestal Request
- Installation Proposal – requests for monitors, projectors, speakers, electric plugs, etc must be made by mid-term.
There will be a system of deadlines for all materials that you are required to submit. Check IMPORTANT DATES on Page 4 for deadlines. FILES INCLUDE:
- Inventory Spreadsheet
- Artist/Project Statement
- Installation Proposal (as needed)
- Promotional Materials (as needed)
- Digital Images
- Slide Sheet
- Pedestal Requests (as needed)
Installation Procedures
D. INSTALLATION
Student will install the exhibition piece, under the supervision of Museum staff. All work must be installation ready, including display stands, easels, plexi, mounting brackets, wire, velcro, hangers, etc. Assistance from third parties may be used to bring the piece into the Museum, but third parties may not stay in Museum. Students must wear proper footwear, including tennis shoes or boots. Sandals are not allowed. No food products are allowed in Museum.
Student will not mark on the walls of the Museum. All artwork/pedestals/materials installed need a minimum of thirty-six (36) inch clearance on all sides for federal ADA compliance. If the artwork prevents such clearance, the piece must be placed against the wall such that visitors may not walk behind.
- You will be required to install your own artwork, under the supervision of Museum staff.
- You may have help bringing your work into the Museum, but guests cannot stay in the space. (This is a security and insurance requirement)
- NO sandals. You need to wear tennis shoes, boots or closed toe shoes to protect your feet. A hammer to the toe is not pleasant. (Insurance requirement)
- DO NOT mark on the walls with pencil or pen. (Marks are hard to erase, cover or paint over. Use marking tape to mark spots for nails and screws.)
- All artwork/pedestals/materials in the Museum need a minimum of 36” clearance on all sides for federal ADA compliance. If you can’t manage that, place them close enough to the wall or grouped so that visitors understand they are not to be walked behind or through.
- No food or food products in the Museum. Exceptions must be approved by the Director.
MORE INFO
All important BFA dates and additional information available online at martinmuseum.artsandsciences.baylor.edu
8
Sample BFA Contract
"The BFA contract is often the first loan agreement Baylor students sign. It can be overwhelming, but we're here to help navigate this journey."
Allison Chew, Director
Baylor University utilizes DocuSign for contract execution via e-signature.
Baylor will send the contract out for signature via DocuSign to the party entering into a contract with the University. Upon signature by the second party, Baylor’s signatory will sign the contract. A fully executed contract will be sent automatically to the second party signatory via DocuSign after all parties have signed the agreement.
Below is a brief explanation of signing a contract through DocuSign.
1. A signatory will receive an email from DocuSign requesting signature.
2. To review and sign the contract, click on the “Review Document” link in the message content.
3. If someone else from the organization needs to sign the contract, click on “Assign to Someone Else” under “Other Actions.”
4. Check the box agreeing to use electronic records and signatures and click “Continue.”
5. Review the contract and click on the “Initial” tabs to initial in any place requiring initials.
6. Click on the “Sign” tab to sign the contract.
7. Adopt a signature style or draw a signature, then click “Adopt and Sign.”
8. Click “Finish” when contract review and execution is complete.
9. Click “Continue” when finished to exit the document.
10. After signing, this tab may be closed.
11. The contract will then automatically be sent to the Baylor signatory for signature. Upon signature by Baylor, the fully executed contract will be automatically sent to both parties via email. Click on the “Review Document” icon in the email to view the fully executed contract.
Printing Guidelines
ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIALS related to the BFA Senior Exhibition must follow informational guidelines.
These guidelines are to ensure that all print materials convey a concise and consistent message to Museum constituents. Since any materials you print represent the Museum as well as Baylor University, you MUST follow these guidelines.
Promotional items are any items related to advertising and marketing the exhibition. This includes postcards, posters, flyers, postcards and any materials that promote, convey information or otherwise represent the exhibition and/or the Martin Museum.
Required Information
The Following information MUST appear on any promotional item related to the exhibition.
- Proper Museum Name: Martin Museum of Art at Baylor University
- Exhibition Title: BFA Senior Exhibition
- Physical Address:
Martin Museum of Art at Baylor University
Hooper-Schaefer Fine Arts Center
60 Baylor Avenue
Waco, TX 76706
- Exhibition Dates: Confirm these online
- Museum Hours:
Tuesday-Saturday 10AM - 5PM
Sunday 1PM - 5PM
(Last entry at 4PM)
Closed Mondays, Baylor home football games, Baylor holidays & between exhibitions
- Basic Museum Information: Admission and events are free and open to the public.
www.martinmuseum.artsandsciences.baylor.edu
Prohibited Information
- Do not use the Martin Museum or Baylor University logo on any promotional materials.
- Do not use other student work on any promotional materials without permission.
- Do not use copyrighted material/images on any promotional materials without written permission.
Approval Process
- ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL proofs must be approved by Museum Director and professor of record before going to print or distribution.
- Email proof to Museum Director for approval (Include professor of record on email for confirmation).
- Upload proof through BFA portal on the Martin Museum website to begin approval process.
- Once approved, you may go to print. The Museum is happy to print certain materials for you as outlined in the next section.
Promotional Materials
Printing Options
- Students have two options for generating posters for the BFA Senior Exhibition
- Students can work individually to create a poster showcasing their own work.
- Students can work as a group to create one poster to showcase the group as a whole.
- Students can design their own posters within set guidelines or utilize pre-designed templates available on the Martin Museum website.
Printing Guidelines and Templates available here!
- NOTE: If a group poster is created, all professors of record must approve the design before being printed.
- Large Poster, Tabloid Poster and Small Flyer templates available on the Martin Museum website. Please get approval for ALL promotional designs, even if using the provided templates.
Thank you!
Installing Printed Materials
- Once approved, contact Lisa Fehsenfeld in the Visual Resources Center (HSFAC 157) for display in the building.
- Ms. Fehsenfeld will hang your poster on the grey bulletin board opposite the vending machines up to ten (10) days prior to the opening of the BFA Senior Exhibition.
- DO NOT post on any walls, wooden doors, or glass doors in the building.
---
APPROVALS
ALL PROMOTIONAL DESIGNS MUST BE APPROVED BY YOUR PROFESSOR OF RECORD AND THE MARTIN MUSEUM OF ART DIRECTOR, ALLISON CHEW. PLEASE EMAIL FINISHED DESIGN TO: ALLISON_CHEW@BAYLOR.EDU
Promotional Materials
The Martin Museum staff is happy to print sets of posters for all students wishing to make them, as well as group posters. What the Museum can print for you:
Group Poster
The Martin Museum can print the following for Group Poster Submissions:
- (2) 24” x 36” Posters
- (2) 11” x 17” Tabloid Poster
- (5) 6” x 9” Flyer
Individual Posters & Flyers
The Martin Museum can print the following for Individual Poster Submissions:
- (2) 11” x 17” Tabloid Poster
- (5) 6” x 9” Flyer
NOTE: Templates available on our website.
Inventory
Your inventory list is an **ITEMIZED DESCRIPTION OF YOUR ARTWORK** and materials that will be on exhibition in the **BFA Senior Exhibition** at the Martin Museum of Art. This list will be used in many ways to facilitate the exhibition.
**Insurance Coverage:**
All inventories submitted will be used to compile a master list to provide coverage for your artwork. The master list will be confirmed by Baylor University’s Risk Management Department, then sent to our Insurance Provider. The Insurance Provider will draft and implement a specific policy rider for this exhibition. This rider is the legal document that protects your work in the event of damage, loss, or theft while at the Museum. If you are not titling your work, please list descriptors in the title fields (i.e. Untitled 1, Untitled 2, etc./Untitled – Blue and grey field, etc.). **Do not leave any fields blank.** If it does not apply, enter "N/A."
- Graphic Designers should also list all equipment that will be used in installations. (i.e. monitors, laptops, etc.) These will need to be insured under the rider as well. Add them to the bottom of your inventory list, with a note that they are Equipment in the notes column.
**Identification Labels:**
The information provided in the Inventory is used to generate identification labels to hang beside your work. All works must be labeled. This is standard Museum practice, and also aids in the identification of work for insurance purposes. Your labels will be taken directly from your inventory, so please proof your document prior to submission. We will not have time to correct errors.
- **FILE FORMATTING:** Inventory lists should all be in Excel spreadsheet format. A template is provided for you on the Martin Museum website. **Do not deviate from this template.** The Insurance Provider requires this format. If you're working in Numbers, open the spreadsheet that you want to convert, then tap the More button. Tap Export. Choose a format for your spreadsheet. For example, to open your Numbers spreadsheet in Microsoft Excel, choose Excel.
- **FILE NAMING:** You must title your Excel file as: **Last name_first initial_Inventory.** **Do not deviate from this naming format.** The Museum retains hundreds, if not thousands of similar files, so this format allows for easy search and location.
**Exhibition Layout:**
The measurements listed for each work, along with an installation proposal (if submitted), are used to calculate linear and square feet needed for layout of the exhibition. These calculations are used to give each artist the most room possible in the Museum while considering the group as a whole.
Submitting your spreadsheet: Helpful Information
- Put your name on every line.
- Dimensions are for the image size, not paper size in Printmaking.
- It is not necessary to list framed dimensions. If you wish to include it in the Notes section.
- Make sure dimensions are in the correct location (i.e. height versus width).
- **DO NOT CHANGE** any information about your artwork once your inventory has been submitted.
**If you change the size of your work after you submit your inventory, it will affect the layout of the entire exhibition. The space you are given is determined by the dimensions you submit. You may not have adequate space if you produce work larger than your submitted inventory, or you may take away space from others if you claim dimensions that are larger than what you need.**
When measuring a group of items for display (bottles, chocolate bars or package design variations) provide the following:
- Groups where each item is the same: input height, width, and depth for one item with a notation for “each” (e.g. Seed Packets, 2 x 3 x 1.5 in. each)
- Groups where each item is a different size: input height, width, and depth for each item, give individual names (e.g Letterhead 8.5 x 11 in; Envelope 4 x 9 in; Business Card 1.5 x 3 in)
Format your inventory sheet as follows:
- For groups of items with same dimensions: give measurements for individual item and list number of items in NOTES field.
- For Groups of items that have different sizes: use an individual row to list each item, but place an identifier in the NOTES section that they are a set and information will appear on one label.
Installation Proposals
The Installation Proposal serves as a specific request to hang work BEYOND THE “STANDARD” METHOD of hanging in the Museum. This form should be used for unusual requests that necessitate further review from Museum staff. (i.e. hanging materials from our ceiling support structure, large installation style hanging that may be affected by wall height, the need for electrical outlets, etc.)
Installation proposal guidelines must be downloaded and reviewed from the Martin Museum website at www.martinmuseum.artsandsciences.baylor.edu
Standard Method
Standard method is hanging work 60” on center. You do not need an installation proposal for this. (See Page 27 for 60 on center installation instructions).
The Proposal: Required Info
1. Overall idea for special installation. (300 words or less)
I would like to install 8 works of art with lighting behind each work. Each work will hang approximately 4 inches off the wall, and will use metal clips to install on wall. Each work should hang 16 inches apart, with no direct museum lighting. Each work is framed at 12”h x 16”w. Lights are battery operated, so no outlet needed. Lights must be turned on and off each day.
2. Physical footprint needed for installation (linear and/or square footage)
Each work is 12”h x 16”w. with 16” between works, and 8 works, total linear feet requested is a minimum of 20 ft, plus room for artist statement.
3. All Equipment needed
a. What will student provide
I will provide all equipment. Lights will be battery operated. I will also provide metal clips.
b. What is requested of Museum
No requests.
c. How will equipment be maintained
I will provide batteries for lights, and will provide extra in case needed. I will also train staff on operation of lights.
4. Possible safety hazards or ADA issues, and how they will be addressed.
No safety issues. Lights are secure and LED. NO ADA issues.
5. Sketches to accompany document
6. Prior approval of professor
Anything that deviates from a standard method of 60” on center, you will need to submit an installation proposal. See sample proposals on the next page:
I will have 24 framed images that are 16x12" displayed in Salon style. There will be multiple lights accompanying the images that will be connected to one unit. The lights will be attached to the wall using a type of adhesive (ie. Command strips). I will need one outlet for this plug. The lights will need to be unplugged/plugged in the morning and evening.
I have attached an image of a downsized, yet proportionally accurate presentation of the installation.
Pedestal Request
All pedestal requests will be processed by digital sign-up via the Martin Museum website link to a google doc. form.
- Pedestals are requested on a first-come, first-serve basis, with preference shown first to ceramics/sculpture students. Please be courteous to your fellow classmates.
- Graphic Designers may request up to two (2) pedestals for three-dimensional works, and may request two (2) wall-mounted wedges for three-dimensional works, as available.
If you have trouble visualizing different sizes of pedestals, schedule an appointment with museum staff. We can show you certain pedestals in the Museum to help you gain a sense of scale and size before you make your decision.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Pedestal Dimension (W x H)</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Available Y/N</th>
<th>Notes</th>
<th>Exhibition</th>
<th>BFA Student</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>12 x 12 x 48 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12 x 12 x 48 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12 x 12 x 48 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12 x 12 x 48 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12 x 12 x 36 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>16 x 16 x 40 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>16 x 16 x 40 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>16 x 16 x 40 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>16 x 16 x 40 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>16 x 16 x 24 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>18 x 18 x 40 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>18 x 18 x 40 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>20 x 20 x 48 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>20 x 20 x 48 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>24 x 12 x 36 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>30 x 30 x 40 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>30 x 30 x 30 in</td>
<td>MM</td>
<td>Y</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
**REQUEST IT**
Pedestal request link is available on the martinmuseum website at www.martinmuseum.artsandsciences.baylor.edu
Artist Statement
An Artist or Project Statement is a written document that serves to provide further context to an artist’s work, which offers viewers a deeper understanding.
- Statements should be no more than 350 words, and formatted as Word documents. Do not include special characters, hyperlinks, or other outside information without prior consent from Museum staff, third party, and/or professor of record. Any specialized information should be communicated clearly, so Museum staff can accommodate accordingly.
- Museum staff will format and design statements for installation in the Museum. All will be formatted to coordinate for a cohesive appearance. Statements are printed on special adhesive paper.
- Museum staff can print QR codes separately (formatted like your object labels) to link to personal websites and/or portfolios if provided in advance and approved by Museum staff and professor of record.
Artist statements are uploaded via the martin museum website. Link available at www.baylor.edu/martinmuseum/bfainfo
Digital Images
Students will need to submit digital images of all artwork in your exhibition. These files will serve as records and will be made available in an online version of the exhibition through the Martin Museum website. You will need to submit the following:
Images: Portrait
Verticle orientation, from the shoulders up
• 900 x 675 pixels
• RGB or Grayscale
• 72 dpi, JPEG or PNG
*This portrait will be used online and in the museum on your artist statement.
Images: Artwork
• 1-3 images of each artwork/project (full and/or side views).
*If providing only one view, provide front view.
• Project Images: 1600 x 1600 pixels (1:1)
OR 1142 x 1600 pixels (5:7)
• RGB or Grayscale
• 72 dpi, JPEG or PNG
Each graduate will have a dedicated webpage showcasing artist statement, portrait and images of exhibition artwork and/or finished portfolio.
**Portfolio Book for Graphic Designers**
- PDF of final portfolio book
- 50MB maximum
*Upload your portfolio as a complete PDF, arranged as you will be presenting it in the Museum for your final exhibition. This is in addition to individual images above.*
---
**Slide Sheet**
Use template provided on the Martin Museum website. List details in order:
- **File Name**
- **Artist Name**
- **Title**
- **Date**
- **Medium**
- **Size**
Images should appear on the slide sheet in the order you want them shown in your online gallery.
---
**Martin Museum of Art**
First and Last Name: Amanda Smith
**Slide Sheet (as order)**
**File Name:** Smith_Fasculentum
**Artist Name:** Amanda Smith
**Title:** F. fasculentum
**Date:** 2022
**Medium:** Etching, Aquatint
**Size:** 7in. x 12in.
**File Name:** Smith_WakingDreams
**Artist Name:** Amanda Smith
**Title:** Waking Dreams
**Date:** 2022
**Medium:** Etching, Aquatint
**Size:** 11 in. x 14in.
**File Name:** Smith_RoomOvertheGarage
**Artist Name:** Amanda Smith
**Title:** Room Over the Garage
**Date:** 2022
**Medium:** Etching, Aquatint
**Size:** 9in. x 12in.
**File Name:** Smith_Lagerstroemia
**Artist Name:** Amanda Smith
**Title:** Lagerstroemia
**Date:** 2021
**Medium:** Etching, Soft ground texture, Aquatint
**Size:** 14in. x 7in.
**File Name:** Smith_Chris
**Artist Name:** Amanda Smith
**Title:** Chris
**Date:** 2021
**Medium:** Etching, Soft ground texture, Aquatint
**Size:** 9in. x 12in.
**File Name:** Smith_August
**Artist Name:** Amanda Smith
**Title:** August
**Date:** 2022
**Medium:** Etching, Soft ground texture, Aquatint
**Size:** 12in. x 9in.
---
Images & slide sheets are uploaded via the martin museum website.
www.martinmuseum.artsandsciences.baylor.edu/faculty-and-students
Installation Guidelines
Artwork Hanging
• All work must be installation-ready, including display stands, easels, wire, etc. All hanging apparatus should be attached before work enters Museum. Gluing, stapling, or otherwise putting together components of work should not be done in the Museum. The work should immediately be ready to hang when it enters the Museum.
• Students will hang their own work with assistance from Museum staff as needed.
• Museum staff will provide basic tools: hammers, drills, nails, screws, step ladders, and levels.
• Students must provide their own installation and framing materials: Plexi, mounting brackets, wire, hangers.
• DO NOT MARK ON THE WALLS WITH A PENCIL or other writing tool! Pencil marks are not acceptable. They are hard to erase, cover, and paint over. Use painter’s tape to mark spots for hanging.
• Requests for monitors, projectors, speakers, electric plugs, etc., must be made via an Installation Proposal.
• Graphic Design students will have display space at approximately 10 feet, and the Museum will provide pedestals on a first-come, first-serve basis after sculpture & ceramic student assignment.
“The only way to understand painting is to go and look at it. And if out of a million visitors, there is even one to whom art means something, that is enough to justify museums.”
-Pierre-Auguste Renoir
Safety
- Appropriate footwear is required for installation: No flip-flops or sandals. Wear tennis shoes or boots to protect your toes.
- No visitors during installation. Students may have help moving work into and out of the Museum, but friends/family are not allowed into the Museum until it is open to the public or otherwise arranged.
- No food or food products are allowed in the Museum. All design products must be sealed to “air-tight” levels.
- Students may use step stools but are not allowed on ladders. Museum staff can assist with hanging if ladders are needed.
- All pedestals require a minimum "path of travel” of 36 inches for ADA compliance.
- Students must hang all materials on existing pipe structures in Museum. Weight limit of 12 lbs. per individual piece/material to be hung.
- If you leave a guestbook for visitors to sign, you must leave PENCILS for signatures, NO PENS.
Hanging Methods: Standard Method
*Standard hanging practice in the Martin Museum is “60 Inches on Center.” This means that the center of an artwork falls at 60” above the ground. This allows for works to be at a general "eye level" for visitors.*
Installation Guidelines
Hanging Methods: Standard Method
DISTANCE BETWEEN WORKS
Spacing of your work depends on how much linear wall space you are allotted.
Standard practice is:
• 12" - 24" for small/medium works
• 24" - 36" for larger works
• Can be 8" - 12" if necessary.
Step-by-Step Guide:
STEP 1
Lean your works against a wall in the order you wish to hang them.
STEP 2
Use a tape measure to determine appropriate distance between all works, allowing for labels and artist statement.
STEP 3
Find the center point of each work and mark with tape.
Now your work is ready for vertical measuring to find nail or screw placement.
In order to hang your work in the standard method, you will need:
TAPE MEASURE
LEVEL
BLUE PAINTERS TAPE
HAMMER/DRILL
NAILS/SCREWS
GATHER IT
Make sure you gather any special materials you may need beyond what is provided by the Martin Museum.
Installation Guidelines
Hanging Methods: Wired Works
Step-by-Step Guide:
STEP 1
Determine the overall height of your work.
STEP 2
Determine the distance between the two nails that will hold your work on the wall.
- 8" – 12" for small works,
- 12" – 16" for medium, and
- 18" – 24" for large is usually sufficient.
STEP 3
While holding the wire taught at the correct distance, measure from the wire to the top of the work.
Write your measurements down as you work!
STEP 4
Divide the overall height of your work in half. Take that number and subtract the measurement from the wire to the top of the work. Add 60 to that answer. That is the height of your nails.
EXAMPLE MEASUREMENTS:
Overall Height: 20"
Distance between nails: 8"
Distance from wire to top of work: 4"
EXAMPLE MATH:
20" / 2" = 10"
10" – 4" = 6"
6" + 60" = 66"
Nails 8" apart, 66" from the ground
Write your measurements down as you work!
**STEP 5**
Measure up to the determined spot for your nails. This will be the center point. You have already marked center from arranging your work.
**EXAMPLE:** if nails are 8” apart, place level at tape on the 4” mark. Place marking tape at 0” and 8”.
**STEP 6**
Use a level to get a straight line between points for nails. Use the level placed at the middle point, and mark equal distance from center point.
**STEP 7A**
Place nails...
**STEP 7B**
and hang artwork!
Installation Guidelines
Hanging Methods: Basic Salon Style
Step-by-Step Guide:
The term “salon” refers to the method of hanging where works of art are stacked on top of each other. In the standard setup, two works are used, and are centered vertically, with four to six inches of space between the works.
**STEP 1**
Measure the width of your larger work, to determine center point. Mark appropriate spot on wall.
**STEP 2**
Measure the distance between nails across wire, or D-rings.
**STEP 3**
Measure distance from wire to top of artwork.
**STEP 4**
Subtract the distance from the wire to top of painting from 60". Subtract another 2" – 3" to accommodate space between works. Measure up the wall aligned with center point.
**STEP 5**
Use a level to make the appropriate distance between nail from center point.
**EXAMPLE MEASUREMENTS:**
Wire to top of Painting = 4"
60" – 4" = 56"
56" – 2" for spacing (will be 4" of total spacing in the end) = 54" nail height
Write your measurements down as you work!
**STEP 6**
Measure distance between nails on top work of art.
**STEP 7**
Measure distance from wire to top of painting. Subtract that from the total height of the work.
**STEP 8**
Add 60” to measurement from step seven. Add another 2”-3” to accommodate spacing between works. Measure up on wall from center point.
**EXAMPLE MEASUREMENTS:**
| Total Height of work = 16” | 12” + 60” = 72” |
| Wire to top of work = 4” | 72” + 2” for spacing between (is total of 4” between) = 74” |
| 16” - 4” = 12” |
**STEP 9**
Use level to mark distance between nails from center point.
**STEP 10A**
Hammer nails at marked points...
**STEP 10B**
and hang your works.
**Write your measurements down as you work!**
Installation Guidelines
Hanging Methods: Wiring your work
Step-by-Step Guide:
Wiring is not required to hang your work. You can hang from D-rings. However, it is easier to install and level if your work is wired. Please be sure to use braided hanging wire that is the appropriate weight bearing load for the weight of your work. Wire can be coated in plastic, but be sure that does not cause slippage.
**STEP 1**
Pull wire through from back of ring to front.
**STEP 2**
Cross end of wire behind length of wire.
**STEP 3**
Bring end of wire through front of ring to back.
**STEP 4**
Tighten loop. This knots the wire and ensures no slippage when the weight of the work is applied while hanging.
**STEP 5**
Bring end of wire around knot to begin wrapping process.
**STEP 6**
Wrap remaining wire around length to further ensure security.
Hanging Methods: Do Not Use
These are not to be used to hang your artwork
NO sawtooth hangers NO monkey hooks NO dual-headed hangers
NO screw eyes NO command hooks
Installation Guidelines
Hanging Methods: D-Rings
Step-by-Step Guide:
**STEP 1**
Determine the overall height of your work.
**STEP 2**
Determine the distance between D-rings.
**STEP 3**
Determine the distance from the D-ring to the top of the work. Check that both rings are the same distance.
**EXAMPLE MEASUREMENTS:**
- Overall Height: 20"
- Distance between rings: 15"
- Distance from ring to top of work: 4"
**EXAMPLE MATH:**
- Overall Height / 2 = 10"
- 10" - 4" = 6"
- 6" + 60" = 66"
- Nails 15" apart, 66" from the ground
**STEP 4**
Divide the overall height of your work in half. Take that number and subtract the measurement from the D-ring to the top of the work. Add 60 to that answer. That is the height of your nails.
**EXAMPLE:** If nails are 8" apart, place level at tape on the 4" mark. Place marking tape at 0" and 8"
**STEP 5**
Measure up to the determined spot for your nails. This will be the center point.
**STEP 6**
Use a level to get a straight line between points for nails. Use the level placed at the middle point, and mark equal distance from center point.
**STEP 7**
Place nails, and hang work.
Installation Guidelines
Installing D-Rings on your work
Step-by-Step Guide:
01. D-rings should be installed approximately 1/3 of the way down the work/frame.
02. D-rings should be centered on the frame/stretcher.
03. If you are going to hang the work from the D-ring itself, install them vertically.
04. If you will wire the D-rings, install them at a slight inward angle, or loose enough that they can shift when hung.
05. Make sure both D-Rings are the same distance from the top of your work for easier leveling when hanging.
06. If possible, drill a pilot hole where your screw will be. This will help prevent splitting and splintering of material.
07. Make sure your screws are not too long. If they are, they will come through the front of your work/frame!
Installation Guidelines
Hanging Methods: Graphic Design Works
Step-by-Step Guide:
**STEP 1**
Determine the height of your work and divide by 2.
**STEP 2**
Take your answer and add 60". This will be where the top of your work rests on the wall.
**EXAMPLE MEASUREMENTS:**
Total Height of work = 12"
Divide height by 2 = 6"
60" + 6" = 66"
**STEP 3**
Measure and mark the determined height. Use a level to mark the other end.
**STEP 4**
Using one of the Museum industrial glue guns, place a quarter-sized amount of glue in each corner of the back of the work. Also place one quarter-sized amount of glue in the center. For larger works, more glue may be used near center.
**STEP 5**
Wait roughly 10 seconds for the glue to begin setting, then position on the wall at marked height. Hold in place for 10-30 seconds until glue cools and fully sets.
**WARNING:** Be careful handling! Glue is hot and can burn, causing blisters!
Installation Guidelines
Hanging Methods: Wall Wedges
Step-by-Step Guide:
Larger objects: Top of wedge at 42”
Smaller objects: Top of wedge at 48”
STEP 1
Measure from floor up to 42” or 48” (depending upon display of Large or Small object).
STEP 2
Place piece of blue tape on wall, at the desired measurement (42” or 48”), and with a pencil, mark the center point onto the blue tape (which will be center-point of wall wedge). Also mark center point on the wall cleat.
STEP 3
Set each screw into the wall cleat enough to catch, do NOT go through the other side of the hole, at this time. Align wall cleat with centerline marked on your blue tape, center-point to center-point.
STEP 4
Using a small spirit level, screw cleat into the wall until fully set, and the wall cleat is firmly flush with the wall and level.
* Make sure wall cleat is installed with angled lip facing upward. This secures wedge to cleat.
STEP 5
There should be no space between the back of the wall cleat and the wall, and it should be firmly in place, with no movement. If it is loose, that likely means the screws are not fully set.
STEP 6
Place wall wedge up and over the wall cleat, and carefully slide the wall wedge down until it is firmly seated on the wall cleat.
Labeling Artwork
Acceptable methods to adhere labels
As a Museum, our mission is to educate the public, and one way we accomplish this is through labeling artwork. Identification labels provide context and a "breadcrumb trail" for viewers to access and interpret your work. The label provides an inroad to understanding the effort and energy you have put into creating your work and connecting to the viewer.
All works of art are required to be labeled for exhibition. You can choose from the following variations.
01 Standard
All labels to right of individual works, top at 60 inches.
Note: All labels should be oriented to the right of artwork, unless the right side of artwork approaches corner, then label should be placed to left of work. Labels should be 1-2 inches away from artwork.
**OPTION 2**
**Standard Lower Corner**
All labels to right of individual works, bottom of label in line with bottom of work.
**OPTION 3**
**Standard Grouped or Tombstone**
All labels grouped to right of far right work. Labels arranged left orientation to right orientation as descending.
**OPTION 4**
**Salon Standard**
All labels to right of individual work. Top row bottom of labels in line with bottom of work, bottom row of labels top in line with top of work.
---
**OPTION 5**
**Salon Centered**
All labels to right of individual works. Top row bottom of labels at 60.5", bottom row top of labels at 59.5".
Salon Grouped
All labels to right of group of works, arranged to mirror layout of works. Top row bottom of label at 60.5", bottom row top of labels at 59.5".
Sample Label Images
Labels and Statement placed in Option#1
Standard method. Great job!
Unacceptable methods to adhere labels
Under your artwork
Shadows from frames create difficulty for viewers to see and accurately read your labels.
No labels
All artwork is required to have labels.
Sample Label Images
Frames casting shadows on misplaced labels
Solution: Option #1 Standard method
Great placement of pedestal label!
Installing Artist Statement
Acceptable and Unacceptable methods to adhere your artist/project statements
All Artist/Project Statements must be installed at 60 inches on-center to accommodate ease of reading for visitors. If possible, Statements should be placed to the right of artwork.
Acceptable
Unacceptable
THINGS TO KNOW
Please DO NOT place statements on pedestals or below works of art. This is hard for viewers to read and does not follow industry standards.
Installing Pedestal Labels
Acceptable methods for placing labels on pedestals and wall wedges
If the pedestal is 40 inches or taller, place the label on the vertical plane of the pedestal in the top right corner.
If the pedestal is shorter than 40 inches, place the label on the horizontal surface of the pedestal in a right corner.
SCULPTURE STUDENTS
Please DO NOT place Artist Statements on pedestals. Place your statement on a wall near one of your works. Place statement 60 inches on center. Make sure to place as far away from other 2D student work as possible to avoid confusion. Ask Allison Chew or Mike Schuetz for assistance if needed.
Spacing Awareness
FLOOR SPACING FOR THREE DIMENSIONAL WORKS AND PEDESTALS
All works of art and/or pedestals must follow federal standards for minimum “path of travel” for ADA Compliance. There must be a minimum of 36 inches on all sides of your work/pedestal. If this is not possible, the work/pedestal must be placed far enough out of the normal paths in the Museum. This means it can be pushed against the wall so that it cannot be walked behind, or grouped with other works/pedestals to create an appropriate path.
PRO TIP
You can push a pedestal flush against the wall to meet ADA compliance.
PROHIBITED AREAS FOR PEDESTALS
ACCEPTABLE GROUPING OF PEDESTALS
PRO TIP
Pedestals can be grouped and considered a single object in the space to ease OSHA standards.
Spacing Awareness
Proximity to other artists
Occasionally, artists will share walls and be in close proximity to each other. When this happens, both artists should be aware and plan to leave excess space between their work to help visitors differentiate between the work and who it belongs to.
Acceptable Spacing
Unacceptable Spacing
CONTACT US
Museum Phone: (254) 710-6371
Allison Chew: Director
Martin Museum of Art
allison_chew@baylor.edu
Mike Schuetz: Collections Mgr.
Martin Museum of Art
mike_schuetz@baylor.edu |
2017
Culture and my art
Xin Chen
Iowa State University
Follow this and additional works at: https://lib.dr.iastate.edu/etd
Part of the Art and Design Commons, and the Fine Arts Commons
Recommended Citation
Chen, Xin, "Culture and my art" (2017). Graduate Theses and Dissertations. 16711.
https://lib.dr.iastate.edu/etd/16711
This Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by the Iowa State University Capstones, Theses and Dissertations at Iowa State University Digital Repository. It has been accepted for inclusion in Graduate Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of Iowa State University Digital Repository. For more information, please contact digirep@iastate.edu.
Culture and my art
by
Xin Chen
A thesis submitted to the graduate faculty
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
MASTER OF FINE ARTS
Major: Integrated Visual Arts
Program of Study Committee:
Christopher Martin, Major Professor
Joseph Muench
Anson Call
The student author, whose presentation of the scholarship herein was approved by the program of study committee, is solely responsible for the content of this thesis. The Graduate College will ensure this thesis is globally accessible and will not permit alterations after a degree is conferred.
Iowa State University
Ames, Iowa
2017
Copyright ©, Xin Chen, 2017. All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
I dedicate my thesis work to my wonderful wife Xiying Liu for her great deal of encouragement and unwavering support; to my daughter Catherine Chen for being there for me throughout the entire MFA program; and to my wife’s family and my family members for understanding and giving me rock steady support.
# TABLE OF CONTENTS
| LIST OF FIGURES | ................................................................. | v |
| ACKNOWLEDGMENTS | ....................................................................... | vi |
| ABSTRACT | ........................................................................ | ix |
| CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION ART JOURNEY | ......................................................... | 1 |
| Early Period | ........................................................................ | 1 |
| Studying Art in China | ................................................................ | 5 |
| Studying Art in the United States | .................................................................... | 8 |
| CHAPTER 2. CULTURAL STUDIES | ........................................................................ | 11 |
| Reasons to Study Cultural Topics in Art | .......................................................... | 11 |
| Chinese and Western Cultures | ......................................................................... | 12 |
| Culture | ......................................................................... | 12 |
| Chinese culture | ....................................................................... | 13 |
| Western Culture | ....................................................................... | 14 |
| Cultural Differences | .......................................................................... | 15 |
| Cultures Influencing My Art | .......................................................................... | 17 |
| CHAPTER 3. MY EXHIBITION | ........................................................................ | 22 |
| It is Me | ............................................................................... | 22 |
| Cultural Conflict Chair | ....................................................................... | 23 |
| Culture Shock Chair | ........................................................................ | 25 |
| Recalling the Bell | ........................................................................ | 26 |
| Chinese Zigzag Chair | ......................................................................... | 27 |
| Thunder Bird Table | ............................................................................... | 28 |
| Squares or Circles? | ........................................................................ | 30 |
| Happiness Whistle | ............................................................................... | 31 |
| Baby Rocking Chair | ............................................................................... | 33 |
| Women on the Way | ............................................................................... | 34 |
| Are You Safe? | ............................................................................... | 35 |
| CHAPTER 4. CONCLUSION | .......................................................................... | 37 |
REFERENCES ....................................................................................................................... 39
APPENDIX IMAGE DOCUMENTATION .............................................................................. 43
LIST OF FIGURES
Figure 1. Adobe House Similar to My Grandparent’s House ........................................... 2
Figure 2. Book-The Art Road ...................................................................................... 4
Figure 3. Rembrandt, Self-Portrait with Beret and Turned-Up Collar ......................... 5
Figure 4. The Night Watch, 1642, Oil on canvas, Amsterdam Museum on permanent loan to the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam......................................................... 5
Figure 5. Portrait of M. P. Mussorgsky, 1881, The Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia 6
Figure 6. Barge Haulers on the Volga, Russian Museum, Saint Petersburg, Russia...... 6
Figure 7. Chinese people's way, from Liu, Yang. 2015, East meets West, Taschen...... 17
Figure 8. Western people's way, from Liu, Yang. 2015, East meets West, Taschen ..... 17
Figure 9. Wu Xing Theory, from Wikipedia ................................................................. 18
Figure 10. It is Me, Installation, 2017.......................................................................... 22
Figure 11. Toy Gun Made of Steel Wire ...................................................................... 23
Figure 12. Introspection about Cultural Conflict, Chair, 2017.................................. 24
Figure 13. Culture Shock Chair, 2017 ....................................................................... 25
Figure 14. Recalling the Bell No.1, Chair, 2016 ......................................................... 26
Figure 15. Chime Bell, Chinese Instrument................................................................. 26
Figure 16. Recalling the Bell No.2, Chair, 2016 ......................................................... 27
Figure 17. Sichutou Guanmaoyi, Ming Dynastic, China.......................................... 27
Figure 18. Chinese Zigzag Chair, 2015 ................................................................... 27
Figure 19. Zig Zag Chair, Gerrit Rietveld, 1950-1959, Netherlands......................... 28
Figure 20. Thunderbird Table, 2017......................................................................... 28
Figure 21. Representation of Thunderbird, 2017....................................................... 29
Figure 22. Squares or Circles? Chair, 2016................................................................. 30
Figure 23. Representation of Huqin, 2016 ................................................................. 31
Figure 24. Happiness Whistle, 2016 ........................................................................ 31
Figure 25. Baby Rocking Chair, 2016 ................................................................. 33
Figure 26. Women on the Way, 2016 ...................................................................... 34
Figure 27. Are You Safe? Light, 2017 ................................................................. 35
Figure 28. Exhibition View No.1 ................................................................. 43
Figure 29. Exhibition View No.2 ................................................................. 43
Figure 30. Exhibition View No.3 ................................................................. 44
Figure 31. Artist Statement ............................................................................. 44
Figure 32. Representation of Huqin and Process of Disassembling or Assembling the Chai, Squares or Circles?, Walnut, Cherry, Fiber, Brass Hardware, 45"x17"x21, 2016 ................................................................. 45
Figure 33. Thunderbird Table and Process of Disassembling or Assembling the Table, Walnut, Cherry, Fiber Rope, 71"x31"x31", 2016 ................................................................. 45
Figure 34. When Cultural Tradition Hit Digital, Mixing Media Installation, Walnut, Cherry, Poplar, Fiber Rope, Digital Media (C4D), 44"x20"x5", 2017 ................................................................. 46
Figure 35. Cultural Conflict Chair, Mahogany, Plastic, Fiber Rope, 31"x17"x29", 2017 ........................................................................ 46
Figure 36. Recall The Bell Chair, Cherry, Maple, Fiber Rope, 16" x 21" x 44", 2016 ................................................................. 47
Figure 37. It is Me, Installation, Pine, Steel Wire, Fiber Thread, 2017 ......................... 47
Figure 38. Baby Rocking Chair, Mahogany, Walnut, Plastic, 28" x 11" x 23", 2016 ................................................................. 48
Figure 39. Chinese Zig Zag Chair, Cherry, Mahogany, 24"x22"x45", 2015 .................... 48
Figure 40. Are You Safe? Cabinet Light, Walnut, Plastic, Fiber Rope, 13.5"x24.75"x25", 2017 ........................................................................ 49
Figure 41. Walnut, Mahogany, African Padauk, Fiber Rope, 25.5"x20"x41", 2017 ......... 49
Figure 42. Happiness Whistle, Brass, Silver, 3.5"x2"x1", 2016 ....................................... 50
Figure 43. Women on the Way, Table Statue, Brass, Walnut, African Padauk, 8"x6"x4.5", 2016 ........................................................................ 50
Figure 44. Glass Meet Wood, Coffee Table, Walnut, Yellow Maple, 43"x25"x17.5", 2017
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my committee chair, Christopher Martin, and my committee members, Joseph Muench, and Anson Call for their guidance and support through the course of the creation of this thesis exhibition and research. In addition, I would like to thank my friends, colleagues, and the department faculty and staff for making my time at Iowa State University a wonderful experience.
ABSTRACT
This thesis is an account of my development as an artist. It is partly a cultural study, and partly a reflection of what has inspired my journey. It explores the cultural impact and intersections between Chinese and Western cultures that affect my work, and offers insights into my artistic experiences. I pull from a variety of sources for the purpose of explaining how my immersion in two cultures has changed the way I see and produce art. Here I try to offer a deeper understanding of the cultural meanings and social issues that are evident in my work and are important to me and others. My thesis is divided in four sections. In part one, I reflect on my personal experiences growing up in China, my immersion in Chinese culture, and my later pursuit of higher education in the United States. In part two, I offer a cultural study of Chinese and Western Cultures, and how I have been affected by Western culture. In part three, I reflect on my artistic production as I describe and explain eleven pieces I produced during my MFA study. I conclude my thesis by discussing my plans to move from studio furniture to mass-produced furniture.
CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION ART JOURNEY
In this chapter, I divide my artistic study into three periods: first, my early period living with my grandparents and until before I went to college in China; second, studying art in a Chinese university; and third, studying art in the United States. Each of these periods had a huge impact on how my art career has developed. By reading about my journey, you will be able to understand how my art and my thinking about art evolved.
Early Period
Childhood is the first step of life for all of us, and it impacts us all differently. I was born in 1982 in Huludao, a small city in China, to a traditional Chinese family. My parents were very busy with work, so they decided that my grandparents would take care of me in their hometown Ankang. I lived with them until I was about four. This decision to place me with my grandparents had a big impact on my later artistic career.
I was greatly influenced by my grandparents’ culture and lifestyle. They were peasants who were diligent and sincere. These virtues were implanted in my heart and helped to push me to pursue art. I was also influenced by my grandfather’s furniture-making abilities and the environment he created for me. I was inspired by his work. Looking back, it is clear that these childhood experiences are why I chose to make furniture.
My environment also affected me. My grandparents’ house (Figure 1) is located in a beautiful mountain area near an ordinary, rural village where only a few people lived. A big river runs through the valley, and there are some farm fields on the sides of the mountains. Their house, located in the middle of the woods, was an old building made of adobe with only three rooms. Inside this simple house, we had old handcrafted furniture, a traditional stove, and colorful New Year’s pictures on the wall: all things that represented traditional Chinese culture.
There were many different kinds of trees around the house. I still feel happy when I recall them. The thing that impressed me the most from those years was seeing my grandfather making furniture. He made a lot of chairs, stools, and tables. Many times, I sat or played near him while he worked and saw what he did. Sometimes he asked me to carry a small piece of wood for him. Even though the furniture was not fancy, watching and experiencing my grandfather making furniture meant a lot to me. I consider him my first mentor, especially for furniture making. I think the seed of making furniture was planted deeply in my heart during that time, and it started to grow along with me. This past is one of the main reasons why I love making and designing furniture and wanted to become a furniture design artist. When I was first introduced to furniture design in the Integrated Visual Arts (IVA) program at Iowa State University, despite not having any real experience, I felt I was in familiar territory.
When I was four years old, I left my grandparents and moved back to my parents’ home in Huludao. In elementary school, I received some arts education, but it was the chance to study drawing in an art workshop taught by real professional artist that changed my life. Normally, I would not have had the opportunity to study art in such a small city as Huludao. Such art workshops did not exist until the “Chinese Economic Reform” policy was enacted by our leader, Xiaoping Deng, in the 1980s (Naughton, B. 1995). With this reform policy, there was an enormous flood of new culture. Like a recovering dragon, China embraced its own traditions and began to combine them with elements from the outside world. That was when everything started to develop and change. Prosperity spread out across China as it encouraged its citizens to pursue and learn from Western countries and then bring those experiences back home to help China develop economically. People did not only study Western industry, but they also paid attention to Western art. Art workshops were created by some artists based on these experiences and were one of many good examples of this development period in China.
Attending the art workshop was a great experience and had a big influence on my decision to study art later. The first time I ever drew with a pencil was in one of these art workshops, and it shaped the way I view art. Although the workshop lasted only six weeks, as a little boy of eight years old, I learned a lot, such as how to draw simple objects like squares, spheres, and cones. This experience really helped me to build my artistic dream.
The most impressive thing I received from the course was a book called “The Art Road” (Figure 2), which taught me artistic techniques and showed me beautiful drawings, paintings, and sculptures. I fell in love with art during that time. After that I always felt excited to draw, and I dreamt of becoming an artist in the future. I studied hard in art class and got straight A's during elementary school. I sowed a seed of the artistic dream in my heart during that time.
In middle school, art classes were no longer available due to the exam-oriented Chinese system. Students were required to spend more time studying the main subjects such as Chinese, Math, and English. Although this situation was very hard for me, it did not stop me from drawing. I also found another way to create art. I took my father’s camera to take photograph of beautiful landscapes like those I saw in magazines. Even though a camera was not always available for me to use, the idea of expressing my emotions though art began to grow. Many sketches and photos accompanied me throughout middle school. Fortunately, an art teacher was hired for our high school when I was in the second year, so I got a chance to study art again, and I systematically learned all of the fundamental drawing and painting skills. The most exciting thing was learning about Chinese and Western art. By that time, I recognized some famous Western works that inspired me at the time were Roman sculptures and Greek mythology. I was very interested in the West’s classical antiquity. The
The sum of the artistic experiences of my childhood had changed me and I felt a little sprout of art had started to grow in me. I was close to finding my art path.
**Studying Art in China**
In 2000, I studied art at Shenyang Normal University. Many of my artistic concepts, thoughts and additional fundamental techniques were built in that period. All of that knowledge laid the foundations for my art development in the future. During this period, I devoted all of my time, energy, and passion to drawing, watercolor, and photography. Since my school followed a traditional Russian training methodology, I was greatly influenced by the Russian academic style and especially Russian Realism. Most of my work tended toward Realism. I was particularly inspired by the Dutch painter Rembrandt (Figure 3) and his fascinating and unique way of dealing with lights in his paintings. His use of light gave me a new kind of visual perception that conveyed his spirit with its atmosphere, such as in The Night Watch (1642) (Figure 4) and the Self Portrait (1659) (Figure 3). Russian painter Ilya Repin’s painting style and attitude toward life was the most impressive to me. The most interesting thing about Repin was that he merged both Symbolism and
*Figure 3. Rembrandt, Self-Portrait with Beret and Turned-Up Collar*
*Figure 4. The Night Watch, 1642, Oil on canvas, Amsterdam Museum on permanent loan to the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam*
Impressionism in his work, which resulted in a strong visual impact, such as with the Portrait of M. P. Mussorgsky (1881) (**Figure 5**) and the Barge Haulers on the Volga (1870-1873) (**Figure 6**). He was not only following the academic rules of painting, but he also made great efforts to express real life and his thoughts in his work. Besides what I studied in art school, I also started to explore different artistic styles in my junior year, such as Naturalism, Impressionism, Expressionism, and Surrealism. My many professors were in different art fields and encouraged me to explore new art styles and to try to express ideas differently.
China was more open after the “Chinese Economic Reform” Policy in the 1970s. I got more opportunities to study, experience, and appreciate different art forms from other countries. Many famous artists visited China and exhibited their work. I frequently went to museums and famous exhibitions, sometimes in my city, but most big exhibitions were in big cities, such as Beijing and Shanghai. I still remember the incredible experience of visiting the Salvador Dalí exhibition in Beijing in 2002. That was the first time I saw authentic Dalí works. It was so impressive to me. I can remember every work in the exhibition room vividly anytime I think about it. These valuable experiences pushed me to
explore art through different avenues. Confident in my research and techniques, I began to create and apply what I had learned in my art-work.
I did not commit to any of the “-isms” – Realism, Expressionism, Surrealism rather I tried to pick up different elements from all of the artistic styles that interested me. One of my paintings is called “The Chinese Red”, which was judged by my university to be an excellent student art work, and it was incorporated into the university’s art collection. This piece carried strong cultural ties and was mostly painted with three colors—red, blue, and yellow. The focal point was made by using deep blue and Chinese red in two areas of the painting. Another idea in this work was to express cultural differences by painting yellow high heel shoes laid on a red traditional Chinese costume—a Cheong-sam, or a Chinese slit dress. This motif combined different cultures, traditional thinking, and modern feelings.
In addition, I was in four group exhibitions during that time. I began to developed leadership skills by organizing various art-related activities in college. I became president of the University Photographic Association in 2002 and, I organized trips for our members to practice photography and inspire their creativity. In order to raise awareness about our work at the university, I organized several exhibitions. To better serve the organization, I began delivering workshops for new members in my spare time. All of these experiences were a great benefit to me, especially the workshops. They gave me experience with teaching art, and I became more interested in art education as a career.
After graduation in 2004, I found a job in a bank. Although this job did not directly fulfill my dream to make art, I nonetheless brought my strong interest in art to the job. In my second year at the bank, I started organizing art exhibitions as well as art movie screenings with follow-up discussions to help my co-workers learn to appreciate movies about art. I had
a great number of opportunities to improve my social, teaching, communicating, and coordinating skills during that period. As I learned more, my desire to teach and make art continued to grow. I love meeting people that were educated in art, and realized that I would need to learn more to achieve my goals. Therefore, I decided that I wanted to return to school and get a graduate degree.
**Studying Art in the United States**
My wife moved to Iowa State University to pursue her Ph.D. in economics in 2009. Two years later, I left my job at the bank in China and came to the U.S. to live with her. Coming to the U.S. began a whole new life for me. I learned English and continued to make and study art—the seed of art in my heart had sprouted, and it was growing! As I made more and more art, I became more and more convinced that I wanted to teach art as well. It was clear that an M.F.A. degree was in my future.
The most important factors in helping me make a final decision about pursuing an MFA were meeting Professor Chris Martin and getting to know the furniture design program at Iowa State University (ISU). Meeting Professor Christopher Martin was an accident—one of my American friends saw my artwork and liked it. She recommended that I should go to art school. I started to get information about the art program at ISU. I was thrilled to find the furniture design program and got very excited about it. I then met Professor Martin and talked with him at the university’s wood studio. After he saw my portfolio and furniture design sketch samples, he encouraged me to pursue graduate school in the MFA program. He gave me many suggestions and lent me some books. At that point, I started to have hope of being able to achieve my dream of becoming an artist.
Talking about wood work with Professor Martin brought back childhood memories of when I lived with my grandparents. Many pieces of furniture made by my grandfather were
conjured up in vivid colors in my mind. An urge to make furniture took over my entire body. I was not sure about furniture design and had no previous experience with it at first, but as I learned more about the program, it seemed to be a perfect fit. I was positive that I wanted to build a career around furniture design.
I started in the IVA program in Spring 2015 and learned a great deal from it. Not only did I improve my artistic skills and strengthen my knowledge of art, but I also broadened my ideas conceptually, established my own artistic voice, and worked to become a professional artist. Over the course of the three years, I studied furniture design, metal design, drawing, painting and artistic theories. I finally decided to focus on furniture design with metal design as a minor.
I still remember how excited and nervous I was the first time I made furniture. I felt I had a natural talent for woodworking. I was confident about using the tools and applying the concepts I was taught. Everything looked familiar to me. It seemed that this knowledge was awakened from inside my heart. Learning how to make woodworking joints was critical for me, especially the mortise and tenon joint. Through research, I discovered that this kind of joint has been used for thousands of years by woodworkers in different cultures around the world (Zhang, X. 2011). More surprisingly, this technique was even older than Chinese characters and even predated the Neolithic Hemudu Culture (5000 BCE to 4,500 BCE) in Ancient China. “Archaeological evidence from Chinese sites shows that, by the end of the Neolithic, mortise-and-tenon joinery was employed in Chinese construction” (Liu, X. 2002).
Only later was it used in furniture. Learning this pushed me to study not only Chinese culture, but other cultures as well. I designed many furniture pieces by experimenting with different joints that eventually become important for my work. The most significant and unique design
types are the ones in which the furniture can be disassembled and rearranged with embedded cultural elements to create a new imagery, such as “Square or Circle? (The chair)” and “Thunderbird Table”. This idea of using joinery to assemble and reassemble furniture has become a signature of my designs which I have shown in many exhibitions. I will discuss about these works in detail in a later chapter.
When I realized that joinery were used in both China and the West, it motivated me to study my own Chinese culture more closely. Five thousand years of Chinese history bred a rich national culture. It had many magnificent features and elements such as Chinese characters, costumes, patterns, and so on. They are deeply implanted everywhere in my society. As a Chinese artist, I feel I have a responsibility to carry it forward and introduce the quintessence of Chinese culture to people who are trying to understand China. I included important Chinese elements in my work such as the color red, certain patterns unique to China, Chinese characters, and theories. My metal pieces Happiness and The Women on the Way are two examples, and I will discuss them in detail in a later chapter. Besides Chinese culture, I also studied aspects of Western culture. Different cultures became a creative source that has inspired me in my art exploration. “Thunderbird Table” was a perfect example of my cross-cultural studies.
Looking back, I have changed a lot as an artist in the course of my M.F.A. degree. It was not only about gaining knowledge, but also gradually changing my perspective in life, my philosophy, and my values. I was living in a different culture, and this gave me a new lens to see the world and create my art, and it changed my art in turn. This special situation pushed me to actively play with psychological and cultural elements to naturally convey my emotions in my work and effectively involve the viewer into the soul of my work.
CHAPTER 2. CULTURAL STUDIES
In this chapter, I will discuss why the combination of culture and art fascinates me, the meaning of culture, differences between Chinese and Western cultures, and how these cultures influence my art.
Reasons to Study Cultural Topics in Art
The phenomenon of cultures shifting in the context of globalization is very interesting and important to me. Globalization has removed barriers and distances between countries and cultures (Abdelrazik, A M, 2015). In this context, people who have diverse cultural backgrounds have increasingly migrated to other nations and brought ideas, skills, and traditions from their motherland with them. As a result, culture has become a complex subject in most societies, and is reflected in individuals, communities, and countries. The phenomenon of cultures mixing together provides many positive opportunities for society, but it also brings many challenges, such as religious or cultural conflicts or other issues. This giant complex structure of mixed-culture societies is influencing the entire world. As an artist, I want to reflect on this social reality. Moreover, my personal experience living in two different countries and encountering different cultures makes me part of this complex structure.
I was formed into a Chinese cultural identity after thirty years of living in my home country: This is a crucial factor which plays an unshakeable role in my life. However, when I came to the United States, I met a new culture that I had to adapt to. I felt a culture shock. I managed to balance Chinese and Western lifestyle and cultures, and I applied this mentality to my work. These different cultural experiences became the inspiration that pushed me to create my art. As a result, I developed my own artistic language using cultural elements to convey my ideas and create a resonance with people who have similar experiences in society.
My reading of reality also plays an important role. Many consumer products have been endowed with cultural symbols and many are designed for people from diverse cultural backgrounds. As a three-dimensional artist, I want to use my cultural thinking to design and make furniture. I hope my art pieces become appropriate cultural carriers that will facilitate communication about both Chinese and Western cultures.
**Chinese and Western Cultures**
**Culture**
If we want to understand Chinese or Western cultures, we have to know what culture is first. There are dozens of definitions. Culture is a very complex term in the English language (Williams, R. 1983). Abdelrazik describes that “Culture is an identical combination of memories, visions, values, symbols, expressions, and innovations, which leads human groups to establish a nation. Culture saves its civilized identity in a developing frame owing to its internal dynamics and its capability of communication” (Abdelrazik, A M, 2015, citing Benedict, 2005, p. 10).
In my understanding, culture is a large, integrated whole which develops in specific places over a long period of time. There are many cultures around the world, based on different people who live in various places producing different cultures and civilizations. Within cultures there often are subcultures.
People are not only applying cultural elements in daily life and work, but also are influenced by it in many aspects intangibly or tangibly. No doubt, the cultural elements have been instilled in a society and people’s lives, such as common behaviors, food, clothing, and lifestyles. From the historical and social perspective, culture can be seen in numerous ways, such as literature, religions, arts, laws, ethics, and etiquette. Culture is deeply anchored in people’s hearts. What is the most important part in culture? Human beings are the most
important part. Looking back into human history, humanity not only created culture, but was also created by culture.
**Chinese culture**
Chinese culture can be dated back to more than five thousand years. It is one of the oldest cultures in the world (Chinese Dynasty Guide, 2008). Since China has one of the Earth’s earliest civilizations, it has had a profound impact on the world in many aspects, such as language, writing system, literature, philosophy, virtue, and etiquette. Most Eastern Asian countries were dominated by Chinese culture (Wong, D. 2017). Today, people who live in East and Southeast Asian countries and in Chinese communities throughout the world still continue to celebrate and practice Chinese traditions and festivals. With globalization, Chinese culture is still spreading and influencing the world. (Website, The original and unique culture of China).
China has 56 officially recognized ethnic groups (Guo, R. 2011). A general term, “Zhonghua Minzu”, was created for all Chinese to describe the nature of Chinese nationalism (Landis, D. & Albert, R D. 2012). Throughout Chinese history, it is not hard to find many ethnic groups who have merged and assimilated with each other, while some even disappeared. Now, Chinese people officially are considered one nationality that includes all 56 ethnic groups.
Today, the idea of Chinese culture carries numerous cultural connotations and elements. It includes spiritual culture and material culture which are categorized according to specific characteristics and geographical regions. The most typical cultural influences are found in architecture, philosophy, Chinese written characters, auspicious symbols and patterns, instruments, religions, customs, and historical relics. In other words, the essence of Chinese culture is represented by these typical traditional Chinese elements which are different from other cultures. The examples are many: Chinese architecture include (e.g., The Forbidden City,
the Great Wall, and Suzhou Garden), costumes (e.g., Chinese silk, the Tang suit, and Cheongsam), religions and philosophy systems (e.g., Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism, Dragon, and Kylin), traditional musical instruments (e.g., the erhu, pipa, guzheng, suona, and huqin), and the theory of the Five Elements, also known as the Wu Xing theory: Fire/red, Earth/yellow, Wood/blue, Metal/white and Water/black (Yu, D. 1999). Throughout Chinese history, China’s unique art, culture and distinctive symbols have been carried through time and are clearly distinguishable from other cultures. Moreover, they identify Chinese culture to the world.
**Western Culture**
Western culture can be considered as Western civilization, Occidental culture, the Western world, and Western society (Hayas, C J. H., 1954). It is a popular term and has been backed by a thousand years of Western history. It originated in Ancient Greece, then passed through the Roman period, Christianity, the Dark Ages, the Renaissance, the Scientific Revolution, the Enlightenment, American Revolution, the Industrial Revolution, up to the current era of Modern Civilization. Western culture is a rich culture that includes specific ethical values, religious beliefs, social norms, political philosophy, traditional customs, science and technology, and art and literature, and more (Wikipedia: Western Culture). Although it has its origin in Europe, Western culture can be found in many countries outside of Europe. Many countries have a strong cultural relation to Europe due to immigration and colonization including the United States of America, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. Looking at Western history, Christian culture heavily influenced Western counties. The concept of Christianity was deeply implanted in Western people’s hearts. It also became their cultural identity (Dawson, C. & Olsen, G. 1961). Besides this, Western culture also includes the indigenous cultures from indigenous people who had the original settlements and maintained their own traditions of a given region (Sanders, D. 1999), such as Native American, Australia
Torres Strait Islanders, and New Zealand's Māori. Their cultures and customs were also very important and have influenced Western culture. Western culture is a big pool that contains many cultural treasures. It is difficult to study them all in a short period of time, but there are some important commonalities that attracted me. This includes the history of Western art, and the concepts of free thought, rational thinking, individualism, human rights, capitalism, and the pursuit of happiness.
Cultural Differences
Nowadays, the world has become a global village. The phenomenon of multiculturalism has happened in most societies. Cultural differences manifest in many aspects including social orientation, beliefs and values. Belief systems which come from religions and philosophies dominate people’s thinking. “Values” are defined as “broad tendencies to prefer certain states of affairs over others” (Hofstede, G. 1986, p. 5). Values also allow people to judge for themselves if a thing is good or evil (Ourfali, E. 2015). Knowing about people’s beliefs and social values helps in the understanding of the cultural differences, which will help people understand diversified cultures and societies, avoid many cultural conflicts, and accelerate cultural harmony. I will discuss some Chinese and Western culture differences based on my values, interpretation, and research.
There are many differences between Chinese and Western culture, including (but not limited to): living principles, religion and truth, collectivism and individualism, and passion and venturing. I think the most important aspect is the dimension of collectivism and individualism. Hofstede (2011) defines collectivism as: “a societal (…) characteristic (…) in which people from birth onwards are integrated into strong, cohesive in-groups, often extended families (…) that continue protecting them in exchange for unquestioning loyalty, and oppose other in-groups.” (Hofstede, G. 2011, p. 11). Individualism, according to Hofstede, is
characterized by “Everyone is supposed to take care of him- or herself and his or her immediate family only” (Hofstede, G. 2011, p.11). In my opinion, most Chinese people follow a collectivist way of thinking, while most Western people follow more of an individualist way of thinking. This philosophy is reflected in many social aspects.
My understanding is that Chinese people think somewhat intricately, like a spiral. This logical thinking is from the traditional Chinese Philosophy of Confucianism. In this philosophy, collectivity is prized. Individual needs are second and follow after the collective good. According to Abubaker (2017, p. 13), this is because “Individuals in collectivist cultures tend to be more concerned about the importance of being members of a cohesive group. This may be to protect themselves socially in their peer groups in return for their loyalty and conformist social behavior.” People who encounter some social problems need to think not only about the problem itself but also about the relevant social environment and relations. This way of thinking makes the problem become more complicated.
In Western culture, I have observed this kind of logic is not followed. People’s thinking is linear. Because they advocate individualism, they do not need to consider anything outside of the target. This leads Western people to think simply and efficiently. Moreover, it is also expressed in lifestyle choices. Chinese people live in a group. For example, Chinese people have a very close relationship with their family members. They frequently meet together and a large number of young people after getting married still live with parents or grandparents. Most Western people typically live on their own in a nuclear family setting. Normally they leave their parents when they get married and many people leave earlier. Connection and relationships are the other parts that reflects this philosophy.
Chinese people have a more intricate social network than the most Western people because people believe in collectivism. No matter what their experience in their growing, learning, living, and working, collectivism will lead people to join in different kinds of social networks that make their relative networks more completed. Meanwhile, every single different social network links to each other, which forms a giant, complex society. In term of connections, everyone relates to each other based on various social networks (Figure 7). In other words, in Chinese culture people cannot escape from this intricate social network based on collectivism. Most Western people simply believe the individual is the center of the society. Their relationships and networks are based on themselves (Figure 8).
**Cultures Influencing My Art**
The way that culture influences art and design practices has become a complex and profound problem in our society (Abdelrazik, A M. 2015). Culture and design interact closely. When designers create a piece of art work, they also have to study cultures at the same time (Boradkar, P. 2010). Designers are human beings who have their own cultural background from their society that forms their cultural identity. This cultural identity will reflect their values and their work will reflect their culture. Designers are always trying to express themselves while involved in the design process (Abdelrazik, A M. 2015). My cultural identity is Chinese, so my body of work is heavily related to Chinese culture and reflects the Chinese
historical values. My work was also influenced by Western culture because I am living and studying in a Western country- the United States. My art is based on this cultural mix of identities and experiences, and it integrates various cultural elements. Meanwhile, it is also a self-expression of cognition and experience that comes from my innermost emotions.
There are many Chinese cultural elements that I apply to my work. The three Chinese philosophies that are deeply reflected in all of my art work are: Confucianism, the Wu Xing (the Five Elements) (Figure 9), and Chinese Red.
Confucianism is a traditional philosophy, but is considered as a religion, a humanistic philosophy, and simply a way of life (Yao, X. 2000). Humanity is the core of Confucian ethics (Juergensmeyer, M. 2005). In this philosophy, the most important element of Confucian ethics is characterized by the Three Fundamental Bonds and the Five Constant virtues. In traditional China, people’s behavior was strictly guided by Confucian doctrine. This philosophy still affects people today. The Three Fundamental Bonds deal with traditional society’s most fundamental social relationships: father and son, lord and retainer, and husband and wife. As essential relationships, these three serve as shorthand for all human relationships” (Knapp, K N. 2009, p. 2252). The Five Constant Virtues are: benevolence (Rén, 仁); righteousness (Yì, 彥/义); propriety (Lǐ, 礼/礼); wisdom (Zhì, 智); integrity (Xīn, 信) (Runes, Dagobert D., 1960; Knapp, K N. 2009). The Doctrine of the Mean is the most essential in the propriety part. It is very important in the Confucian canon: “the
Figure 9. Wu Xing Theory, from Wikipedia
proper action is the way between the extremes” (Website: philosophy.lander.edu). Generally speaking, this means a balance of outside world and inner spirit influences, and it also means a sense of balance that merges humans with the universe. It also stresses the unity of opposites in the world. Moreover, it recognizes the potential for long-term goals. This was the most influential traditional Chinese philosophy in my art work but it also guides my behavior and life. So this balance can always be found in my work, no matter which material, colors, shapes, and cultural elements.
The Wu Xing (Figure 9) concept is from Taoism and also called the Five Elements, the Five Phases, the Five Agents, the Five Movements, and the Five Planets: Mars/Fire, Saturn/Earth, Jupiter/Wood, Venus/Metal, Mercury/Water (Zai, J. 2015). Each elemental property corresponds with one color, which are Fire/red, Earth/yellow, Wood/blue, Metal/white and Water/black. In Wu Xing theory, all five elements are applied to the “mutual generation” and the “mutual overcoming” by the certain order as shown in the figure above (Kommonen, K. 2011). That means all things are from these five fundamental elements, each of which dominated the others. This theory highlights the balance among these elements and this balance is the key to maintain all things working well together. I applied this theory to my work by seeking the common point and using different cultural elements.
Chinese Red also a major element in my work. I use it as a special element to represent the Chinese culture in my work. It is the national color in China, and symbolizes happiness, good fortune, and joy. It can be found everywhere during the festivals, holidays, and family gatherings such as the Chinese New Year. There are many daily things relating to Chinese Red; for example, monetary gifts are always wrapped in a red envelope, and a red bag symbolizes good fortune. Authority is the other important significance of red color. The only
person who was allowed to use red color was an emperor in Chinese feudal society. Today, the Chinese government uses the red color for official purposes such as official seals and official titles.
Although Chinese Red was recorded as a color name in English in 1924 for the first time (Maerz, A. & Rea Paul, M. 1930), it has been used for a long time in Chinese history. Red was associated with blood in ancient China. The Chinese character for blood was recorded on tortoise shells during the primitive cultural period in China. An important cultural rite during that time was blood sacrifices (Wang, Y. 2013). Red became an important color by people worshiping blood during that time. The material, vermilion, was also available and so people used it. Vermilion is one of the oldest colors. The oldest piece of vermilion work ever found was a lacquered wooden bowl from the Chinese Hemudu culture, dated 4000-5000 BCE (Wikipedia, Lacquerware). Another other reason for the importance of the color red is worship of fire by worshiping the sun. Because fire is red, they believed the sun is an origin of the world in ancient China. These are the reasons for Chinese Red becoming the national color.
Western culture is a rich treasure of history, philosophy, and beliefs that I have learned a lot from. In my perspective, the most interesting thing is the West’s rational way of thinking which is different from China’s. I know both ways of thinking formed through a long historical development process. Normally, most Chinese people have an ability to think more intuitively, however, most Western people have an ability to think more rationally. This does not mean the Chinese people cannot think rationally just because they are from different cultures. We can find their roots from both sides of the old philosophies, such as Confucianism and Green Philosophy.
During my three-year study period, I learned how to think rationally in many aspects, and understood how to apply intuitive and rational thinking to affect my work and even my attitude towards life. Chinese thinking apparently considers the general entirety that comes from intuitional experience. Western thoughts pay attention to logical thoughts that allow them to calmly observe and distinguish the objective material world. These two ways of thinking are very helpful for me to create my art. For example, when I start to project a boldness of conception, I will use the intuitive thinking. It will give me more general ideas and let me think creatively. After getting the general conception, the rational think will play a big role to make sure the inspiration, the conception, and the process possible or not.
CHAPTER 3. MY EXHIBITION
The eleven works that I will talk about in detail in this chapter were collected for this exhibition. There are nine furniture pieces and two metal pieces, which shown the course of my art growth over time. These pieces are inspired by different motifs and reflect many aspects: personal experiences, cultural issues, cultural communication, and social issues, but they share a similarity in how Chinese and Western cultural elements were applied. The key to my work is dealing with Chinese and Western cultures, and organically merging different cultural elements together to express artistic emotions and to raise social issues. One of the most important visual feature of my work is a unique Chinese cultural tastes. Every work clearly represents Chinese cultural elements based on different meanings and purposes. But they also try to tactfully apply Western cultural elements to serve the theme.
My art was created by three steps. The first step is finding an interesting topic. My interests are based on my personal experiences and social issues. The second step is to seek solutions with cultural thinking. The third step is designing it with Chinese cultural taste, especially using joinery techniques.
It is Me
This piece (Figure 10) is made of wood and wires. The idea of this piece is to reflect how I found my art path and how I became a mature artist while studying during the IVA program. This is a very important experience about my art thinking, personal life, and future
Figure 10. It is Me, Installation, 2017
career. This piece was composed of four different parts that were my four situations when I met a big challenge. By making this piece, it allows me to recall where I am and where should I go. It also encourages me to face any challenges in my future career. As audiences view it, I want to convey the ideas that, as a Foreigner-Chinese student who has lived and studied in a different culture/country, one faces and solves many cultural issues every day and by working hard I could find an art path and get to this place artistically.
This piece was made of wood and metal wires. Together, the four wire sculptures create a main body that represents how my thinking changed during the IVA program. Wood stools act as pedestals support the wire sculptures, which express my field of study: woodworking. All parts were lined up on the ground, showing the timeline of my art developing. The inspiration of using wire is from my childhood experience, which is also part of modern Chinese culture. During my childhood, only a few toys were available for me. Making toys became a new way for pleasing myself. Metal wire was an abundant available material, so my friend and I made a lot of simple wire toys such as wire guns (Figure 11) and rolling wheels.
Cultural Conflict Chair
This chair (Figure 12) is a conceptual piece. The idea of this piece reflects introspection about cultural conflict between Non-Western and Western cultures. Cultural conflict occurs when different belief systems and values collide (Wikipedia, Culture conflict). Cultural
conflict issues increasingly arise in the world along with globalization, especially in immigrant countries like the United States. Why do different cultures conflict? Culture belongs to a majority which then dominates people’s beliefs and values in the nation. So the majority’s beliefs and values often are identified as natural and normal (LeBaron, M. 2003). When a different cultural minority moves to a country this type of conflict can appear. Cultural conflict usually happens in many aspects of our life both consciously and unconsciously. If people understand different cultures the issue will gradually solve itself over time. My point is to show people cultural differences and raise this issue so that they can rethink their ideas about different cultures.
I designed typical Chinese and American cultural elements into my chair to represent two different cultural identities. This ideally can attract people to think about cultures. Two types of chair, which are the traditional Chinese chair, Quanyi, and modern mass-produced plastic chair were combined together to indicate the idea of cultural conflict. Moreover, the two cultural parts were tied together by the Chinese Red rope, which is the other key item to represent the inevitable cultural conflict. In this design, I also sought a balance between Chinese and American cultures, that is to tie a whole plastic chair and two of third Chinese chair with Chinese Red rope, which will give audiences the most visual pleasure. The idea of balance is from the Chinese philosophy, the Wu Xing.
Culture Shock Chair
This is cultural issue piece (Figure 13) that reflects to cultural shock that happened in many immigrant countries like the United States. It explores thinking about different cultures. The idea of this is from my personal experiences of cultural shock which happened in the United States. There are many issues with culture shock in this society, which can become a hot topic in different fields such as sociology and psychology. As an artist, I want to raise this issue and help people understand cultural shock by experiencing my piece.
Culture shock is “a sense of confusion and uncertainty sometimes with feelings of anxiety that may affect people exposed to an alien culture or environment without adequate preparation” (Merriam-Webster). There are four stages of culture shock: honeymoon, frustration, adjustment, and acceptance (Four Stages of Culture Shock). Most people will experience these four stages during culture shock. I designed a chair based on this principal for people to experience how cultural shock works. Two drawers were designed to represent and carry two cultures: Chinese and American cultures. And each drawer was connected by a Chinese Red rope with a knot, which means the two cultures have met. Three straight backs not at the same level provide an uncomfortable situation which mimics the frustration of cultural shock. Since I study in the United States now, choosing typical Chinese elements such as Chinese Red, joinery, and smooth shapes can better represent the Chinese culture, which express more cultural differences.
Figure 13. Culture Shock Chair, 2017
How does culture shock work in this piece? There are also four stages: seeing, sitting, adjusting, and finding. Seeing represents the honeymoon: when people see this unique chair first, the curiosity will drive them to sit on it. Sitting represents the frustration because the back is not flat. It is very uncomfortable when you sit on it. Finding represents acceptance, because if you slightly adjust your body you will find a comfortable position. The whole process of the sitting experience provides a chance for people to think about culture shock, and lets people understand more about cultural differences.
Recalling the Bell
This is cultural communication piece a sitting form-chair (Figure 14). The inspiration for the idea is from two cultural elements, one is the traditional Chinese instrument –Bianzhong (The chime bell) (Figure 15) and the second is the traditional Western corset. The motif of this piece is to deliver Chinese cultural history by tying both Chinese and Western culture in same piece. Bianzhong is one of the oldest musical instruments in China. It can be dated in the Western Zhou Dynasty (1046 BCE-771 BCE) (Website, Topchinatravel). It was an important musical instrument for the royal family, and was a symbol of status and position in ancient China. I chose it as my subject to express the rich history of China and designed a representation of the bell as my chair’s seat. The corset was a common traditional clothing item during the Victorian and Elizabethan period in Western countries. It had about 350 years
of history and is a well-known Western cultural icon. It is an interesting element to represent Western culture. Corsets served to shape women’s bodies. I subtly designed a narrow back and applied the metaphor of the corset, meaning using ropes to tie both cultures together in the piece. The other feature is to use the rope’s color-Chinese Red - to express the typical Chinese culture. It also can be disassembled into individual pieces, which can then be arranged to form representative Chinese imagery a bell (Figure 16).
**Chinese Zigzag Chair**
This chair (Figure 17) concept is about the transition between Chinese and Western cultures, especially concerning the furniture design cultural elements of both. The inspiration for my work is from two cultures. One is a traditional Chinese Chair-Yoke-back armchair (Sichutou guanmaoyi) (Figure 18) which was often found in Ming Dynasty China. It is a ritual chair and normally used by noble families during that time (Website, Classic Chinese Furniture). The other one is a famous Zig Zag chair (Figure 18) which was designed by Gerrit Rietveld in 1934, and was
collected by the Museum of Modern Art, New York. It is a very simple piece that only use four pieces of wood, jointed together.
I analyzed and rethought the idea of both Chinese and Western chair designs. I chose different parts that can well represent both cultural characteristics, such as the Chinese chair’s armrests and the top of the back, along with the Zig Zag chair’s shape (Figure 19). I wanted to extract the essence from both classic chair designs unified into my piece. Both cultural Elements can be clearly identified in my work. By making this chair, I established my typical aesthetic, which is to merge different cultures, and emphasize a new visual experience. For example, the Chinese “curve” and western “Z” forms are harmoniously merged in my Chinese Zigzag Chair.
Thunder Bird Table
The idea of the piece (Figure 20) is to advocate the spirit of the Thunderbird, which reflects a Native American Cultural icon- the thunderbird. “The thunderbird is a legendary creature in certain North American indigenous peoples' history and culture. It is considered a supernatural being of power and strength” (Wikipedia, Thunderbird). It is very important in Native American tribes because it is a representative of the Sun, the Great Spirit, and the Creator that governs the world. Also, it is able to create a fresh beginning. There are many
virtues that were symbolized in the Thunderbird, such as power and dominance, undefeatable fighting spirit, courage, strength, victory, and honor (Website, Thunderbird Tattoos). Nowadays, the Thunderbird is used as a symbol of the spirit that can push people to fight against any difficulties and never give up.
The other reason why I want to create this piece is my personal experience studying outside of my home country and overcoming many difficulties. This experience makes me have resonate with the Thunderbird’s spirit, because these merits are also Chinese traditions. These stories motivate me to design an art piece to express my emotion. I, trying to be respectful of another culture, designed a table that can be shown in two forms: a table and a representation of the Thunderbird (Figure 21.) (after the table is disassembled and rearranged to create an image). I chose a table form as a metaphor to present the idea which is displaying and carrying the Thunderbird’s spirit based on the function of table.
Squares or Circles?
My chair “Squares or Circles?” (Figure 22) reflects a "culture game theory" between Eastern and Western cultures relating to post-colonialism and race theory. These concepts were written about by important scholars such as Olu Oguibe, Chakrabarty, and Richard Dyer. Culture game theory highlights “non-Western” artists struggling in art, while Western society is dominating the art world (and other cultural worlds). If “non-Western” artists want to get into this crowd they were supposed to do what Western society expected, which is to make art relating to their own ("exotic", Non-Western) culture. Western people often think only this kind of art was authentic art. For example, Western people often prefer to see Chinese artists make art like Chinese watercolor rather than Western art such as abstract painting.
I think this is a piratical problem and exists in the art world. As an artist, it is hard to change immediately, but I want to make my effort to let more people understand it. Then there will have more chances for helping solve this problem. This is a meaning of why I made this particular chair. Based on this theory, I want to follow this rule but also break it. So I found a point and method to balance both sides. On one hand, I present the culture game theory. I applied many traditional Chinese elements to represent I am a Chinese artist, such as the joinery, circle shape, and Chinese Red. On the other hand, I merged some Western elements,
such as the hard edges and square shapes in my pieces. My point is to play against the theory with my designs. I want to raise awareness about this cultural issue and to let more people pay attention to it so that this situation can be improved in the future.
I also designed a new feature to carry forward Chinese tradition. The chair is held together by tension, and can be disassembled into individual pieces, which can then be arranged to form representative Chinese imagery: A Huqin (Figure 23), a traditional Chinese musical instrument. The process of disassembling and rearranging is not only about playing with furniture, but also inheriting Chinese cultural traditions to make deeper meanings with my work and inspiring audiences to think about furniture differently. Using art language to express issues will encourage me to continue expressing social issues and help me to deepen my understanding of the Western world.
**Happiness Whistle**
This piece is called “Happiness,” (Figure 24) a wedding whistle, which is built around design motifs that indicate differences between Chinese and Western cultures. Both culture's elements can be seen easily. The inspiration comes from the wedding ceremony. I found people perform
instruments in both Chinese and American wedding ceremonies. Both cultures' performances are designed to celebrate the happiness and give a benediction to the bride and bridegroom. The only big difference is that they use different instruments. My idea is to design an instrument for brides and grooms in both cultures, so they also can perform the instrument to celebrate the happiness during the wedding.
I chose to design a whistle. This design is based on the Western Bosun call whistle used on naval ships. It was originally designed to “pass commands to the crews when the voice could not be heard over the sounds of the sea” (Wikipedia, Boatswain's Call). I choose traditional Chinese characters and patterns and some Bosun call elements as my design inspiration to design my whistle. It subtly merges Chinese elements and Western elements together in a single piece, to represent multiple cultures. The design with two holes serves the purpose of allowing the bride and groom to whistle together, representing the close relationship of the couple. The double rows of red Chinese characters, “Xi,” are designed into the top middle part of the whistle and those characters mean double happiness. Normally, those double happiness characters are pasted on the middle part of walls, gates, and doors in China and are also often seen in Chinese wedding ceremonies. Two figures, the female and the male, representing the bride and bridegroom, perfectly match each other on the ball. The symmetrical shape of tubes describes the joy of both people finding the most significant person in their life and the similarity of each other at that moment.
Baby Rocking Chair
This piece (Figure 25) reflects on child abuse, a destructive social issue that crosses all cultures worldwide. According to the organization Childhelp, 28.3% of adults were physically abused and 20.7% of adults were sexually abused as a child in the United States (Website, Childhelp). According to Mruthyunjaya’s research, Two of three children were physically abused and 53.22% children reported sexual abuse in India in 2007 (Website, Ministry of Women and Child Development, Govt. of India). Moreover, according to BBC news, in the “Syria war: 2016 deadliest year yet for children, says UNICEF.” The news report said that at least 652 children died and more than 850 children were recruited to fight during the Syrian civil war in 2016. Many children struggle against a troubled destiny every day. They often do not have food, water, and even their lives are threatened. Their situation causes children psychological-trauma, and such trauma will last long time. Whenever I see these kids in this kinds of situation, I really want to calm their hearts and give them to a safe place and let them be a comfortable, to help them to forget everything miserable for even a few seconds.
As an artist I feel I have a responsibility to bring this issue up and let our society to pay more attention about this issue. I chose to design and make the most comfortable chair to express my emotion, which is a rocking chair. In my opinion, the most important function of a rocking chair is to make children feel relaxed and safe. If child sits on it, they should easily fall asleep and dream with a smile. My focus is Chinese and Western cultures studies, with this children’s issue, I applied symbolic cultural features to represent the world. The chair outlines
a simplified “Zig Zag” shape to represent the West, because the original design of “Zig Zag” chair is from a Western country. The top of the back and armrests are abstracted from the essence of a classic Ming dynastic Chinese chair, to represent the East. The transparent plastic materials represent our modern society. The other unique visual experience is when you see this chair from far away, you may feel as if the chair is floating on the ground due to the “almost invisible” rockers. This shows that the issue of child abuse is not resolved yet: we still need to continue to work hard to eradicate it from our world.
**Women on the Way**
“Women on the Way” (*Figure 26*) is a piece inspired by women fighting for equal rights. That fight has a long history and has reached worldwide. Even though the women’s rights movement has made a lot of progress, there is still more work to be done.
Normally, a chair is a special term that represents a person’s status (as a chairman or chairwoman). I chose to use different sitting devices such as a chair, a bench, and a big base to represent different position of women in our hierarchical society. The interesting thing is the relationship between the chair and power, because power is intangibly embedded into the chair in our society. Although a record of this is hard to find in the literature, usually it is interwoven into the social order and the general ideas that we accept unconsciously. So studying about and using the sitting form are very important opportunities for expressing and exploring the various social statuses of women in different period of time.
I chose Eastern and Western elements to build a multi-dimensional space for this piece to represent the entire world. I used three different sitting forms: the modern female shape chair, the bench, and the big base, to represent women’s status in a patriarchal society where women are still fighting for equal rights. I introduced a time concept that includes past, present, and future. I added an Eastern art element, the old Chinese character, to represent thousands of years of experience. The modern chair was painted with blue to represent the present. The space surrounding the chair represents women’s future, full of opportunities and challenges.
**Are You Safe?**
This piece (*Figure 27*) discusses the social issue of invading one’s privacy. Nowadays, privacy faces many threats. According to the UK Daily Mail (2013), the U.S. government monitors people’s internet and phone calls around the world. Today, the government is still spying on Americans (Los Angeles Times, 2017). There are also many other ways of breaking into people’s privacy, such as information theft and identity crimes. According to The Washington Post (2014), “Target said Friday that the thieves who stole massive amounts of credit and debit card information during the holiday season also swept up names, addresses and phone numbers of 70 million customers, information that could put victims at greater risk for identity theft” (The Washington Post, Business, January 10, 2014). This is a big issue in many societies with regards to how individual liberties and privacy are violated. Based on this social problem, I designed this piece to raise the issue up and reflect on a social reality.
“Are You Safe?” was made of different materials: wood, plastic and a light bulb. The cabinet show how people’s privacy and safety have been seized. The general idea is that each piece of the cabinet represents different aspects of this environment. Normally, small cases or cabinets give people a feeling of safety. That is the reason why I chose a cabinet form to represent safety. I chose a long case furniture as the typical Chinese element to express the combination of an outside world, a strong power, and an authoritative environment that one cannot control. I used a light bulb to represent a person who believes to be in a safe place. And turning the light on and off express that this person consciously or unconsciously believes they are safe. I used a rope to tie the door up to the top to represent a person who cannot control the door which means they cannot control their privacy because it is controlled by others. I used translucent plastic to shown that even though people can protect information about themselves, they actually cannot. Personal information will still show up.
CHAPTER 4. CONCLUSION
Having nearly finished an MFA in furniture design at Iowa State University, I have decided to go further and pursue a Master’s degree in Industrial Design (MID) with a focus on mass-produced furniture. As I mentioned in the first chapter, my long-term goal is to teach college-level art and design. My three years of studio training in furniture design will be a strong foundation from which to draw as I learn how to design mass-produced furniture. By mastering skills and knowledge required for creating both studio furniture and mass-produced furniture, I hope I will become a well-rounded art teacher able to teach students and inspire a wide variety of young artists and designers.
There are two pillars that support my goal of being a well-rounded art teacher at the college level. The first pillar is studio furniture design, which is my current focus. It is based on artistic self-expression, which provides me with many opportunities to express my emotions in furniture. It gives me lots of freedom and allows for creative thinking in making furniture with cultural thought influences. The second pillar is mass-produced furniture, which is what I will develop in the MID program. Mass-produced furniture can be more than just a product in people’s daily lives; designers have many chances to use cultural elements and emotions to create mass-produced furniture that influences people and touches their them with emotions. Design is based on clients’ preferences, which requires designers and clients to work together to conceive a product that embraces clients’ wishes, a designer’s philosophy, and cultural contexts shared by both sides. This is how mass-produced furniture can better deliver the cultural heritage instilled by designers.
Globalization makes our world more complex. Cultural merging and mixing have been constantly happening and recurring in many countries, and integrating cultural elements into
mass products is becoming a popular topic worldwide. As a furniture designer who focuses on cultural studies, I have a strong motivation to instill cultural thinking into furniture design, and to help people understand the meanings and relationships from different cultures. There is a research field called culture-centered design in the industrial design master’s program at ISU, and I would love to pursue it as my future research topic. I would like to investigate how to design culture-centered mass-produced furniture. I am also interested in learning how to design furniture products to properly fit circumstances and users without losing the tastefulness of good fine art furniture. These questions drive me to seek better mass-produced furniture design. Even though this field is new to me, my research on cultural studies, and my past knowledge, skills, and experience in art have prepared me to become a unique and creative culture-centered designer. I will make an effort to find answers to these questions and to design valuable mass-produced furniture in the context of Chinese and Western cultures.
REFERENCES
Chinahighlights (Internet), Available at: www.chinahighlights.com/travelguide/culture/lucky-numbers-and-colors-in-chinese-culture.htm
Childhelp (Internet), Available at: www.childhelp.org/child-abuse
Classic Chinese Furniture (Internet), Available at: www.chinese-furniture.com/c_furniture/c_chair_yokeback_ch.html
Global-Perspectives, The 4 Stages of Culture Shock (Internet). Available at:
medium.com/global-perspectives/the-4-stages-of-culture-shock-a79957726164
Hinner, M B. & Lang, P AG (2014). Chinese Culture in a Cross-Cultural Comparison, ProQuest Ebook Central. Available at:
Philosophy.lander.edu (Internet), Philosophy 312: Oriental Philosophy Main Concepts of Confucianism. Available at: philosophy.lander.edu/oriental/main.html
Topchinatravel (Internet). Available at: www.topchinatravel.com/china-guide/chinese-chimes.htm
The Times Editorial Board, (2017), Los Angeles Time, “The U.S. government is still spying on Americans. Here are some fixes for that” (Internet), Available at: www.latimes.com/opinion/editorials/la-ed-fisa-renew-20170621-story.html
Yang, J. & Jayakumar, A. January 10, (2014), “Target says up to 70 million more customers were hit by December data breach”, The Washington Post (Internet), Available at: www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/target-says-70-million-customers-were-hit-by-dec-data-breach-more-than-first-reported/2014/01/10/0ada1026-79fe-11e3-8963-b4b654bce9b2_story.html?utm_term=.adcaed6e2d35
Wikipedia. Boatswain's call (Internet). Available at: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boatswain%27s_call
Wikipedia Western Culture (Internet). Available at: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Western_culture#Themes_and_traditions (accessed October 12th, 2017)
APPENDIX IMAGE DOCUMENTATION
Figure 28. Exhibition View No.1
Figure 29. Exhibition View No.2
Figure 30. Exhibition View No.3
Figure 31. Artist Statement
Artist Statement
Xia Chen is a Chinese artist. He focuses on his thoughts regarding art and culture in both China and the United States. He reflects on his personal experiences growing up in China and being immersed in Chinese culture and later pursuing higher education in the United States and being affected by Western culture.
In this exhibition, the most of his work are furniture, and it also includes metal and mixed media pieces. These pieces are inspired by different motifs and reflect many aspects: personal experiences, cultural issues, cultural communication, and social issues, but they shared a similarity applying Chinese and Western cultural elements visually and theoretically. The key to his work is dealing with Chinese and Western cultures, and organically merging different cultural elements together to express artistic emotions and to raise social issues. One of the most important visual feature of his work is a unique Chinese cultural tones which based on expressing different meanings and purposes. He also tries to tactfully apply Western cultural elements to serve the theme.
These pieces pull from a variety of sources for the purpose of explaining why he thinks differently about the work. Understanding his art will lead to a deeper understanding of the cultural meanings and social issues.
Figure 32. Representation of Huqin and Process of Disassembling or Assembling the Chai, Squares or Circles?, Walnut, Cherry, Fiber, Brass Hardware, 45”x17”x21, 2016
Figure 33. Thunderbird Table and Process of Disassembling or Assembling the Table, Walnut, Cherry, Fiber Rope, 71”x31”x31”, 2016
Figure 34. When Cultural Tradition Hit Digital, Mixing Media Installation, Walnut, Cherry, Poplar, Fiber Rope, Digital Media (C4D), 44"x20"x5", 2017
Figure 35, Cultural Conflict Chair, Mahogany, Plastic, Fiber Rope, 31"x17"x29", 2017
Figure 36. Recall The Bell Chair, Cherry, Maple, Fiber Rope, 16" x 21" x 44", 2016
Figure 37. It is Me, Installation, Pine, Steel Wire, Fiber Thread, 2017
Figure 38. Baby Rocking Chair, Mahogany, Walnut, Plastic, 28" x 11" x 23", 2016
Figure 39. Chinese Zig Zag Chair, Cherry, Mahogany, 24" x 22" x 45", 2015
Figure 40. Are You Safe? Cabinet Light, Walnut, Plastic, Fiber Rope, 13.5"x24.75"x25", 2017
Figure 41. Walnut, Mahogany, African Padauk, Fiber Rope, 25.5"x20"x41", 2017
Figure 42. Happiness Whistle, Brass, Silver, 3.5"x2"x1", 2016
Figure 43. Women on the Way, Table Statue, Brass, Walnut, African Padauk, 8"x6"x4.5", 2016
Figure 44. Glass Meet Wood, Coffee Table, Walnut, Yellow Maple, 43"x25"x17.5", 2017 |
Aesthetics of Everyday Life
# TABLE OF CONTENTS
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Section</th>
<th>Title</th>
<th>Page</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Introduction</td>
<td>.................................................................................................................. vii</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Liu Yuedi and Curtis L. Carter</td>
<td>.................................................................................................................. viii</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>Part I: Aesthetics and Everyday Life</strong></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Chapter One</td>
<td>Transformations in Art and Aesthetics</td>
<td>2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Arnold Berleant</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Chapter Two</td>
<td>“Living Aesthetics” from the Perspective of the Intercultural Turn</td>
<td>14</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Liu Yuedi</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Chapter Three</td>
<td>Everyday Aesthetics and Happiness</td>
<td>26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Thomas Leddy</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Chapter Four</td>
<td>The Dilemma of Everyday Aesthetics</td>
<td>48</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Allen Carlson</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Chapter Five</td>
<td>Foucault’s Aesthetics of Existence and the Ethics of Authenticity</td>
<td>65</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Heinz Paetzold</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>Part II: The Arts in Everyday Life Aesthetics</strong></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Chapter Six</td>
<td>Art Photography and Everyday Life</td>
<td>80</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Curtis L. Carter</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Chapter Seven</td>
<td>Theatre and the Everyday: Three Models</td>
<td>96</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Susan L. Feagin</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Chapter</td>
<td>Title</td>
<td>Author</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>---------</td>
<td>----------------------------------------------------------------------</td>
<td>--------------------</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Eight</td>
<td>The Found Avant-Garde</td>
<td>Adile Jale Erzen</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Nine</td>
<td>The Aesthetics of Adornments</td>
<td>Stephen Davies</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td><strong>Part III: Eastern Wisdom and Everyday Life Aesthetics</strong></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Ten</td>
<td>Damask Napkins and the Train from Sichuan: Aesthetic Experience</td>
<td>Mary B. Wiseman</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>and Ordinary Things</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Eleven</td>
<td>Everyday Aesthetics in the Japanese Tradition</td>
<td>Yuriko Saito</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Twelve</td>
<td>The Modern Issue of the Living Aesthetics of Traditional Chinese</td>
<td>Pan Fan</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Scholars</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Thirteen</td>
<td>The Transition of Aesthetics in China and a New Paradigm of Living</td>
<td>Wang Que</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Aesthetics</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Editors</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Contributors</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
INTRODUCTION
LIU YUEDI AND CURTIS L. CARTER
As a recent trend of aesthetics worldwide, the aesthetics of everyday life rejects a narrow, art-centred methodology for aesthetics, and points to the continuities between aesthetic/artistic experience and everyday experience. Following this development, the subject matter of aesthetics and aesthetic engagements ceases to be merely about artworks or nature with a focus on a narrowly construed canonical set of aesthetic properties. The notion of aesthetic experience has also been expanded to accommodate a wider range of human experiences. Under the influences of the aesthetics of everyday life, aesthetic analysis has extended to all areas of living world, significantly broadening the range of studies in aesthetics. Given these developments, it is not difficult to see that the aesthetics of everyday life is beginning to prosper in both western and eastern aesthetics.
The Rise of Aesthetics of Everyday Life: West and East
Since its inception, the aesthetics of everyday life has become a stream of thought with a global ambition. This interest has led to numerous systematic and in-depth works on this topic, some of which were conducted by the authors represented in this volume. However, these developments still need to be sorted out and subjected to critical examination. This is one reason for the appearance of this anthology, focused on this new development of aesthetics, with essays by nine Western philosophers and another four from the East. In their discussion of the aesthetics of everyday life, these scholars offer concepts and theories necessary to the understanding of this approach to contemporary studies. The subtitle “West and East” signals an interest in the global scope of the study of the aesthetics of everyday life.
views to be considered here. A salient feature of this book is that it not only represents the recent developments of the aesthetics of everyday life in the West, but also highlights the interaction between scholars in the West and the East on this topic. Thus, the project is intended as a contribution toward mutual progress in the collaboration between Western and Eastern aesthetics. What distinguishes this book from other anthologies and monographs on this topic is that it attempts to reconstruct the aesthetics of everyday life through cultural dialogue between the West and the East, with a view to building a new form of aesthetics of everyday life, as seen from a global perspective.
In September 2012, an international conference on the “Aesthetics Towards Everyday Life: East and West” was held in China, the first ever international conference on the subject matter. During the conference, over eighty scholars from across the world discussed a range of topics including “the relation between aesthetics and everyday life,” “the boundaries of art and life,” “Eastern wisdom and everyday life aesthetics,” “the relation of modern and contemporary arts to everyday life aesthetics,” “environmental aesthetics and new media and everyday life aesthetics.” The conference also provided opportunities for discussions on “urban life aesthetics” and the “contributions of Chinese history to everyday life aesthetics.” This book comprises a collection of the papers presented at the conference, with invited essays by four additional scholars whose work is important to the subject.
Unlike previous developments in aesthetics focused on the arts or on nature and contemporary environmental aesthetics, which mainly had their origins in the West followed by their introduction to aestheticians in the East, the aesthetics of everyday life appeared concurrently in both the West and the East. As a result, their common interest in this topic offers the basis for scholars in the West and East to proceed as equal partners in forging new territory for investigating the theoretical and practical dimensions of the aesthetics of everyday life.
Since Eastern aesthetics is traditionally concerned with the art of living, Eastern philosophers may prefer to use the term “living Aesthetics” or “Aesthetics of Living.” “Everyday life” tends to designate only an aspect of human existence, while “the Art of Living” acknowledges the presence of the aesthetic throughout human experiences. This amounts to saying that there is a deep-rooted tradition of living aesthetics in the East.
Whether it is Chinese literati art or folk art, Japanese chado or gardening, or Korean porcelain or folk painting, all are part of the artistic expression of living aesthetics. For that matter, aesthetic traditions as such in many cultures have been passed on, without discontinuity, since ancient times, and today these traditions have undergone a creative transformation with heightened attention to living aesthetics in everyday life experiences.
More importantly, Chinese Confucian/Taoist aesthetics and Indian Zen aesthetics, among others, are essential sources of living aesthetics in East Asian cultures. The same can be said of aestheticicians from the East, who believe that Chinese, Japanese and Korean traditional aesthetics offer a “prototype” of living aesthetics. For example, it is important to note that, living aesthetics, or the idea of artful life, constitutes the fundamental paradigm of Chinese classical aesthetics, whose primary sources are Confucian aesthetics and Taoist aesthetics, with Zen aesthetics as a later addition. However, building on these roots of Chinese classical aesthetics since Lao Zi (circa 604-531 BC) and Confucius (551-497 BC), Chinese aesthetics has been on the path toward living aesthetics. Here, the point is that Chinese aesthetics is, at the outset, oriented towards everyday life, a most profound difference from European classical aesthetics.
Some Western scholars agree that the “art of living” centres on a “spiritual tradition” such as Zen, and in its construction has the human experience of the ordinary as its core. Hence, the idea of “artful life” also exists in Western aesthetics, to a lesser degree, traceable to the aesthetics of Nietzsche, and finds expression in Foucault’s postmodern notion of “aestheticization of existence,” even it is a Socratic reflection from Plato to Foucault. In his recently published *Life as Art: Aesthetics and the Creation of Self* (2012), Zachary Simpson defines “life as art” as follows:
[it] is the persistent attempt to actualize the aesthetic in and through one’s living, seeing and thinking. This means integrating the essence of the work of art into how one shapes the contours and dimensions of one’s being … what emerges in the artful life, just like in all successful works of art, is an autonomous creation, which bears within it the traces of its production …
---
Simpson’s account of life as art carries aesthetics forward into everyday life aesthetics. However, his view assumes that aesthetics, as it functions in respect to art, remains the prototype for how aesthetics might relate to other aspects of everyday life.
**Social Background: the Aestheticization of Everyday Life**
Why is the aesthetics of everyday life becoming popular today? The answer lies in part with recent developments in global society. The aesthetics of everyday life” has become a common concern for aestheticians across the world in that it represents a reaction to the profound worldwide changes in contemporary culture and art. In the context of globalization, there exists a two-way pan-aesthetic movement across the world, including a movement of “life as art” (drawing elements of everyday life into art) with an expansion of aesthetics into everyday life relatively. The corresponding element consists of a movement of “art as life” (dissolving art within everyday life), in which art loses its “aura” in Walter Benjamin’s meaning and is identified with everyday life. This latter development also includes the efforts of contemporary artists to escape the confinement of the aesthetic and create works on the borders of art and non-art.
However, it is also noteworthy that in terms of its interior structure the aestheticization of everyday life is complex. It occurs on at least two levels: one is on the surface, and the other at depth. While the former refers to the superficial aesthetic transformation of material living, the latter goes deeper into the aesthetic experience of inner worlds. Respectively, these processes bring about exterior cultural change and alter individual features from consciousness to unconsciousness.
The expectation is that the aesthetics of everyday life will unseat two fundamental hypotheses of traditional aesthetics, namely: the concepts of “aesthetic disinterestedness” and the “autonomy of art,” which represent core notions in classical aesthetics. Classical aesthetics in the European tradition had assumed that it was necessary to differentiate art and aesthetic experience from the everyday world of the senses. Hence, it was necessary to construct a theory of disinterested aesthetics to separate the aesthetic from ordinary life. With the possibility of a clear-cut dividing line between fine arts and popular arts, and the former being limited to
---
only a few select members of society, art and aesthetic were essentially separated from everyday life. In the contemporary Western and Eastern aesthetics, new conceptions that bring the aesthetics of everyday life to the forefront have challenged the hegemony of traditional aesthetics. A focus on discovering the aesthetics of everyday life replaces aesthetic disinterest, and there is no longer an insistence on sharp distinctions between art and the other, as found in everyday experience. Thus, continuity replaces isolation in these domains. At times, aesthetics in its contemporary forms takes on the character of anti-aesthetics, as with the followers of Marcel Duchamp. At the same time, the distinctions between high and low taste that relied upon separating art from ordinary experience are now questioned.
Philosophical Sources: Heidegger, Wittgenstein and Dewey
Martin Heidegger, Ludwig Wittgenstein and John Dewey argue against the dichotomy between the subjective and the objective in western philosophy. In their discussions of aesthetics, these philosophers reflect an interest in its application to everyday life.
In his writings of the early 1920s, Heidegger advocated the idea of “diefaktischeLebenserfahrung” (“real living experience”). Later, this theme reappears in the concept of “Dasein” as in his Being and Time, published in 1927. Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations contains the term “Leben Form,” where art is seen as a “form of life.” Again, Wittgenstein in his 1848 note refers to music as an expression of human life. John Dewey’s aesthetics is also concerned with the connection between art and other life experiences. He aims to “restore continuity between the refined and intensified forms of experience that are works of art and the everyday events, doings, and sufferings that are universally recognized to constitute experience.” As Dewey uses the term experience in Experience and Nature, he allows for no sharp division of the subjective and the objective, or between action and substance, and as such there is no clear gap between art and everyday life in Dewey’s aesthetics. Experience, in its consummation in everyday life, becomes art.
Although Heidegger, Wittgenstein and Dewey have influenced the twentieth-century development of aesthetics, including analytic, continental, and pragmatic aesthetics, not all of which would necessarily
---
support our concern with the aesthetics of everyday life, these philosophers’ contributions to this newer development remain substantial. For example, all three philosophers reject the subject-object dichotomy in philosophy, thus clearing the way for considering everyday activities of persons as art.
Of course, they differ in their understanding of how this might occur. Heidegger distinguishes between authenticity and non-authenticity in art in his calling for a return to everyday life, and while Dewey seeks to find art in the stream of experience, the followers of Wittgenstein prefer to understand art in terms of social institutions, such as the art world. Apart from their differences, it seems that Heidegger’s phenomenology, Wittgenstein’s analytic philosophy and Dewey’s pragmatism are in some respects sympathetic to everyday life aesthetics. Dewey’s theory of consummate experience is especially useful for its relevance to everyday aesthetics, as his ideas are cited in recent research by aestheticians as offering a model for the idea of promoting “artful life.”
Although Pragmatic aesthetics and the aesthetics of everyday life differ in some ways, they share certain common interests—pragmatic aesthetics advocates “Art as Experience,” while the latter is concerned with “Experience as Art.” The reversal of this phrase, though seemingly simple, underscores an important difference in direction. The idea of “Art as Experience” aims at restoring the continuity of art and everyday life, its focus being on how art is integrated into everyday experience. However, the idea of “Experience as Art” has its footing in experience, emphasizing that art is merely a part of human experience, and that human experience itself possesses “aesthetic” qualities. The latter points in the direction of building a new form of living aesthetics based on everyday life.
The Aesthetics of Everyday Life: Issues and Challenges
Three prevailing trends can be found in international aesthetics today: aesthetics as a philosophy of art, natural aesthetics (i.e. Anglo-American environmental aesthetics), and aesthetics of everyday life. These trends suggest that art, environment and everyday life represent the major concerns for aesthetic investigation today.
Based on the analysis offered in this introduction and the research in the essays of this volume, it seems clear that the aesthetics of everyday life holds a promising future in both Western and Eastern aesthetics. Given the rapidly growing interest and its potential for attracting new audiences extending beyond the more narrowly focused traditions of twentieth-
As a new trend in aesthetics appearing concurrently in the West and the East in the last ten years, the aesthetics of everyday life points to a growing diversification among existing methodologies for pursuing aesthetics, alongside the shift from art-based aesthetics. The cultural diversity manifest in global aesthetics offers common ground for the collaborative efforts of aesthetics in both the West and the East.
Already, there are signs of productive outcomes from the collaboration of Western and Eastern scholarly traditions on the subject of everyday aesthetics. One area where this collaboration is especially beneficial is in finding ways to connect aesthetics with a wider range of life experiences. Aesthetics in the West is generally based on the notion that aesthetics relates almost entirely to art, or to an idealized nature. Moving aesthetics beyond the limited sphere of life (the arts) that traditional Western aesthetics addresses remains a challenge. It seems that aesthetics in the East is already more closely engaged with the concrete rhythms of life than aesthetics in the West. Hence, Western aesthetics can benefit from this tradition as it seeks to develop effective approaches to bringing aesthetics into the concrete realms of everyday life. Whereas aesthetics in the West tends to focus on the extraordinary, Eastern aesthetics already understands that the aesthetic may populate both the extraordinary and the ordinary forms of experience.
At present, the aesthetics of everyday life as a newly emergent approach to aesthetics may encounter skepticism among aestheticians accustomed to the rigors of analytic philosophers who prefer to discuss aesthetics at the level of abstract concepts and argument, and who tolerate the particulars of experience mainly as illustrations.
For example, it may be argued that the concept of the “aesthetics of everyday life” itself is too broad for meaningful philosophical discourse. It is true of course that “everyday life” does not have clear-cut borders, but this can hardly be a significant objection given the seemingly endless debate over the concept of art itself that has taken place in aesthetics since the mid-twentieth century. The parameters of the other main target in Western, environmental aesthetics are also subject for debate in contemporary circle of aesthetics. Even if “everyday life” further opens the reference field, this is not in itself a reason to dismiss the current efforts to pursue this investigation.
A related objection might be that everyday aesthetics renders problematic any efforts to identify or differentiate particular aesthetic qualities. Against this form of objection one need only recall the endless
arguments posed as to whether it is possible to identify a discrete category of aesthetic qualities. If there were agreement on a particular set of aesthetic properties, there would be no reason to assume that their application is limited to works of art or nature. Indeed many of the aesthetic properties identified in Western philosophy, such as beautiful, pleasurable, harmonious, attractive, elegant and graceful, all seem applicable as aesthetic properties to a wide range of everyday life experiences and objects.
Hence, there is no reason to abandon the pursuit of the aesthetics of everyday life in the face of such objections. On the contrary, there are many benefits to gain in bringing aesthetics to bear on a wider sphere of human life, made possible through efforts to show the relevance of aesthetics to a broader range of human actions.
**Dialogue and Consensus: between East and West**
The essays in this book approach these questions from a variety of perspectives in Western and Eastern aesthetics.
Arnold Berleant discusses the dramatic broadening of the scope of aesthetic inquiry today as extending beyond the arts and natural beauty to include environmental aesthetics in recent decades, not only of the natural but also of the social. Along with environmental ethics, aesthetics has become part of the broader scope of environmental studies and the environment includes the social as well as the natural. Aesthetics has been applied to social relations and political uses, and now most recently to the objects and situations of everyday life. Berleant views the dramatic shift from classical aesthetics as formulated by Baumgarten’s Aesthetics in 1750 as offering greater inclusiveness and also a fundamental alteration in aesthetic inquiry. This changes the nature of scholarly inquiry in aesthetics from an inquiry into aesthetics of objects to aesthetics of experience and sensibility.
Liu Yuedi traces the shift in contemporary aesthetics from its recent grounding in post-analytic philosophy, with an emphasis on examining aesthetics in the context of an art world, to a renewed interest in exploring everyday life aesthetics as seen from a Chinese perspective (he called it Living Aesthetics). In their embracing of the aesthetics of everyday life including environmental aesthetics, contemporary scholars find new interest in the impact of globalization and the “natural aesthetics” of particular environments, such as the search for a new understanding of being Chinese in the contemporary arts and culture as seen by Chinese and global aesthetics.
Thomas Leddy argues that understanding the relation of ethics to aesthetics is a necessary component for a theory of everyday aesthetics. With references to Aristotle’s theory of happiness and Confucius’s understanding of the conditions necessary to a well formed life, Leddy offers the thesis that “everyday aesthetics is important because our lives have a fundamental aesthetic dimension in so far as they are happy or not, and this dimension is one on which aesthetics overlaps with ethics.”
His analysis divides contemporary theories of everyday aesthetics into two categories. The first (right) includes those (Alen Arvid Carlson, Parsons, Downey and others) who argue that aesthetics in everyday life should be treated similarly to how aesthetics is considered in reference to art. The (left) theorists (Leddy, Uraiko Saito, Richard Shusterman, Arto Haapala and others) break down important distinctions between aesthetics in art and everyday life. Happiness in Leddy’s theory extends to virtually all aspects of life including nature, bodily and social experiences, as well as the activities of the mind.
Allen Arvid Carlson finds a dilemma of everyday aesthetics originating in “an inherent tension between the traditional Western notion of aesthetic experience and the typical experience of everyday life.” This tension opposes the traditional aesthetic experience as “abstracted and disinterested” against the “engaging and active” features of mundane ordinary experience. Carlson examines six strategies aimed at easing the tension between the aesthetic and the everyday, only one of which he finds plausible (a cognitive approach focusing on the “interesting details, complex workings, and subtle functionings” of everyday life).
Heinz Paetzold examines the relationship between aesthetics and ethics in the formation of human individuality and sociability by juxtaposing Michel Foucault’s aesthetics of existence and Charles Taylor’s ethics of authenticity. Paetzold argues that aesthetics, which focuses on the individual, helps to prevent them from being subordinated to the universal. Aesthetics discloses new perspectives on the world and stimulates us to experience the world in new ways. The experience provided by aesthetics thus draws attention to aspects of life ignored in everyday life.
According to Paetzold’s understanding, Foucault posits an aesthetics of existence as a solution to the shortcomings of modern society. This new understanding of the contemporary world calls for an updated societal model replacing the Greek polis, and based on Foucault’s contemporary aesthetics of existence. Foucault identifies the key elements of attention to the details of the world around us, viewing the world from different perspectives, and the acknowledgment of aesthetics as a form of knowledge. Individuals should thus dedicate their lives to the art of living,
which entails connecting aesthetic existence and the ethics of authenticity while overcoming the separation of art and everyday living.
Curtis L. Carter examines the aesthetics of everyday actions and objects as experienced through various stages in the evolution of art photography with examples from the beginning of the twentieth century to the present including “pure photography,” staged, altered, and appropriated photographs. With philosophical references grounded in the writings of Walter Benjamin and Roland Barthes, the essay traces changes in the understanding of everyday life aesthetics as seen from the eye of the camera. With the aid of the camera, photographers, from Edward Weston and Man Ray at the beginning of the twentieth century to Ed Ruscha and Jeff Walls at present, continue to show new possibilities for understanding aesthetics in human experience. Photography thus offers a window into the connections between aesthetics and everyday life.
Susan Feagin approaches the aesthetics of everyday life from the perspective of theatre arts where ordinary actions may constitute portions of a theatrical performance as well as appreciation of a theatre performance. Using Allan Kaprow’s “happenings” and Antonin Artaud’s theory of audience participation as examples, Feagin demonstrates how the actions of everyday life become the materials of theatre art. Emotional responses common in everyday life thus constitute both the materials of theatre and represent an important element in audience engagement.
Adile Jale Erzen finds the street objects of Istanbul as similar to those of avant-garde or arte povera, which she labels “found avant-garde.” Such objects from different areas of Turkey were not meant as art but nevertheless were produced with a sense of aesthetics that generates experiences close to the experiences afforded by the avant-garde art object. Her strategy in the search for aesthetics in everyday life is to transform street objects into art, or objects that generate aesthetic interest comparable to the experiences afforded by other recognized forms of art.
Stephen John Davies examines the origins of human adornment and ornamentation, such as jewellery, in reference to the aesthetics of everyday life. His analysis suggests that personal adornments are neither trivial nor meaningless with respect to their social functions. Davies explores the connections between the aesthetic character of such adornments and their functional purposes.
Mary Bittner Goldstein explores the transitions from Kantian aesthetics, in which the emphasis is on the aesthetic experiences of nature and art, and analytic aesthetics to the study of the aesthetic qualities found in everyday life. How, for example, does the aesthetic experience attained from attending to the formal and expressive qualities of a work of fine art
differ from the appreciation of the decoration of a living room or the agreeable aroma of freshly brewed coffee?
Yuriko Saito offers an account of everyday aesthetics with reference to traditional Japanese texts, in which the aesthetic, in both its positive and negative states, is found to be pervasive throughout all aspects of the everyday, including the quality of sounds, bodily movements and ritual ceremonies such as the tea ceremony, domestic chores, food, the work environment, responses to changes in seasons, and personal and social interactions. Awareness of the aesthetic in Japanese culture is grounded in a heightened sensibility, and Saito’s essay contrasts the importance of the negative aesthetics found in Japanese aesthetics with its relative absence in Western aesthetics. Negative aesthetics is considered important because it participates in shaping our worlds as well as in forming individual experiences.
Pan Fan sets forth the everyday life of the traditional literati extending from the scholar’s study to outdoor poetry gatherings. This view of the aesthetics in the everyday life of the Chinese traditional scholar is set in contrast to the aesthetic features of everyday life in contemporary China. The solution of transforming aesthetics in the direction of everyday aesthetics is to return to the broad perspective found in traditional Chinese classical aesthetics.
Wang Que’s methodology for aesthetics embraces both art and all levels of everyday life, including the lives of every social class. His view dispenses with aesthetics as an independent system of modern knowledge or a certain aesthetic theory, replacing them with aesthetic explorations concerning the quality of worldly life. Body, desire, consumption and pleasure replace transcendental concerns in his view of everyday aesthetics.
PART I
AESTHETICS AND EVERYDAY LIFE
CHAPTER ONE
TRANSFORMATIONS IN ART AND AESTHETICS
ARNOLD BERLEANT
Introduction
Recent decades have witnessed a dramatic broadening in the scope of aesthetic inquiry. No longer focused exclusively on the arts and natural beauty, the mainstream of aesthetics has entered a delta in which its flow has spread into many channels before entering the oceanic expanse that is Western civilization. Several decades ago, environmental aesthetics began to attract interest and has grown to be an important focus of present-day inquiry. Along with environmental ethics, it has become part of the broader range of environmental studies and the environmental movement in general. This expansion has continued, interpreting environment not only as natural but also as social. Aesthetics has been applied to social relations and political uses, and now, most recently, to the objects and situations of everyday life. The course of the arts has displayed a similar succession of changes over the past century and a half, increasingly rejecting traditional paradigms of representation and incorporating into their subject matter and practices the everyday world, along with active participation by their audience. It would seem that art has overstepped all boundaries—between art and non-art, between artist and perceiver, and between art and life. Some might say that it has lost its identity entirely.
Scholars committed to the study of the fine arts and traditional forms of natural beauty may consider this enlargement of the arts and extension of aesthetics a corruption of the traditional standards of those endeavours. This, of course, ignores the fact that, as an area of scholarship, aesthetics is of comparatively recent origin, only beginning with Baumgarten’s Aesthetica in 1750. Less dogmatic scholars may take these changes as worthy of inquiry in their own right, perhaps signifying a change in the condition of aesthetics. I should like to follow the second course here, for I think that these developments reflect not only greater inclusiveness but a fundamental alteration in the nature of aesthetic inquiry. Put most directly
Transformations in Art and Aesthetics
and succinctly, this expansion changes the field of aesthetics from an aesthetics of objects to an aesthetics of experience and sensibility. This essay proposes an account of how this has come about and what it signifies.
The Transformations of Art
Developments in the visual arts since the late nineteenth century display a fascinating succession of movements and styles. Among the most notable movements are Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, Fauvism, Expressionism, Cubism, Futurism, Surrealism, Dada, Abstract Art, Pop Art, Op Art and Conceptual Art. These have provided a surprising array of treasures for the museum-goer and rich material for the art historian. The changes seem to puzzle the mind much as they dazzle the eye, posing seemingly bizarre innovations that present insoluble obstacles to efforts at understanding the meaning of modern art and frustrating attempts at determining its boundaries. This history is, however, more than a series of changes in style, and these changes display more than degrees and variations in representation and abstraction. Let us look more closely at this succession of movements to see if there is some underlying logic to their sequence.
Impressionism, to begin with, is usually explained as an attempt at capturing the fleeting effects of light, especially sunlight, on objects and landscapes. Things seem to lose their solidity and appear to vibrate with solar energy, dissolving into vaguely-defined, multi-coloured hues as the atmosphere is charged by sunlight. With Post-Impressionism, objects regained solidity and radiated a strong presence, while Fauvism flourished with untamed brushwork and intense hues. In Expressionism objects were coloured in the rich tones of powerful emotion, but this was then replaced by the dissolution of solidity into the geometrical structures of Cubism, sometimes broken up into their parts, rendered as if from multiple perspectives, or made transparent by displaying their inner structure. Futurism, in contrast, transmuted the solidity of objects into the disconcerting dynamism of frenetic motion. The iconoclasm of Dada cast ridicule at the once noble objects of artistic idealization and bourgeois contentment by introducing the prosaic and irreverent into the sanctorum of art, while Surrealism transformed the world of ordinary objects into the bizarre distortions and irrational juxtapositions of dreams.
As the visual arts became emancipated from the constraints of representation, the figurative centre of art was increasingly abandoned. Its representational subject-matter became unimportant and the purely
pictorial elements of hue, texture, form and composition became the source of rich originality. Artists forsook any attempt at capturing the world of objects, and used colour and form for their visual effect alone. One could consider Pop Art the antithesis of abstraction, where common objects and commercialized forms take centre stage, larger than life, or it could be the apotheosis of abstraction, presenting stylized illustrations as pure pictorialism. Abstraction reappeared in the subtle variation of repeated simple forms for their pulsating effect on the eye, ingeniously exploited by Op Art, while in Conceptual Art the object disappeared from space and became only an imaginative construction.
This kaleidoscopic survey of the modern course of the visual arts verges on caricature, but it nonetheless reveals a fascinating process of transfiguration. In this succession of movements one may see imaginative transmutations of the art object under the influence of light, of the eye, of emotion, and of dreams, along with varying degrees of manipulation of the object’s structure, its solidity, and its variability under the influence of thought and imagination. This is often seen as a history of the iconoclasm of the modern artist, constantly defying conventional expectations and traditional modes, turning it into an account of art movements that increasingly reject traditional paradigms and incorporate the everyday world and the participation of the viewer. This history could then be read as an account of the vagaries of artistic imagination coupled with the unbridled irreverence of the artist. To be sure, one can often find such expressions in the manifestations of the artistic temperament and its inclination to notoriety.
However, I should like to suggest another, very different reading, which is considering the course of modern art as a narrative of transformation, not of objects, but of experiences. Indeed, these developments signify a shift from object-based art to experience-based art. The account displays not so much a sequence of distorted or abandoned objects as a progressive sequence of ways of seeing. The object becomes less important as the visual effect increases in significance until, in abstract and conceptual art, the object disappears entirely. From its dissolution into light and colour in Impressionism, the tactile sense of its pure physicality and weight in Post-Impressionism, its transformation into a stimulus for evoking an emotional response in Expressionism, its structural dissolution in Cubism, its physical dissolution into movement in Futurism, its transition into parody in Dada, its oneiric transmutation in Surrealism and into an ocular stimulus in Op Art, its disappearance in abstract art in favour of the sensibility of pictorial qualities, the lampooning effect of its parody in Pop Art—all these have made the object
less important or not important at all. In its place is art’s effect on the spectator.
But to put it this way is actually misleading because it masks a crucial difference—the audience in art is no longer a spectator but has become a participant and co-creator, absorbing the visual or textual materials, responding physically at times to its stimulation, and intellectually as well as emotionally to its social critique, as in Futurism’s glorification of war and Dada’s critique of bourgeois society, and by its participation in the creative process, activating the art object. It is essential to understand that this transformation in the arts did not turn appreciation into pure subjectivity, into psychological effects disconnected from the body, the art work, and the situation. Rather, these arts demanded sharpened awareness and acute perceptual attention to their sensible qualities. They required recognizing the effects of art as conscious body experience—physical as well as mental. Often this was required by the perceptual demands of the art work for active participation in an appreciative process that collaborates with the artistic one. Indeed, these traditionally separate functions were fused in experiencing art. We have, in short, the transformation of an art of objects into an art of experiences. What does all this signify? To respond to this question, let me turn to the scholarly analogue of the artistic process.
**The Transformations of Aesthetic Inquiry**
While art has undergone a series of transformative changes, aesthetic theory has largely remained mired in the framework and concepts of the eighteenth century, grounded mainly in Kant’s aesthetics. I have written at length about the persistence of obsolescent concepts such as aesthetic disinterestedness, contemplation, purposiveness without purpose, the quest for universality, and the subjectivity of aesthetic judgments, as well as questioning distinctions such as pure and adherent beauty, the sensible and the supersensible, and aesthetics and morality.¹ Important as these ideas may have been two centuries ago in establishing aesthetics within the framework of a systematic philosophy and giving legitimacy and independence to the arts, these concepts have become increasingly irrelevant to the actual practices of artists and the appreciative experiences of the art public.
¹ Most of these ideas, characteristic of traditional “modern” aesthetics, find their support in Immanuel Kant’s *Critique of Judgment* (1790, 1793).
Despite being constrained by outmoded and irrelevant aesthetic concepts, aesthetic inquiry has, in recent decades, pursued a number of directions that reflect the expanded scope of the arts and aesthetic appreciation. Alongside this, the art public has been increasingly willing to accept the use of innovative art materials and the widening range of art experiences that extend beyond the museum or concert hall and into the home, the workplace, the street, and the field. More significant still is the complete alteration of aesthetic appreciation from the receptive contemplation of objects to an active aesthetic engagement with the materials and conditions of art works. Nor is it any longer clear or even possible to separate aesthetic value from moral value, as the social significance and uses of art and the aesthetic have come into greater prominence. Further, the increasingly political applications of the arts belie their traditional exclusivity.
Along with the innovative approaches of the arts has come an enlargement of the scope of aesthetic experiences, and new scholarly interests have emerged over recent decades. Among these are environmental aesthetics, the aesthetics of politics, social aesthetics, including relational aesthetics, and everyday aesthetics. The progressive broadening in the scope of aesthetic inquiry and away from the conventional venues of art began, I think, largely by focusing attention on the aesthetics of environment. It started with a return of attention to nature and an exploration of modes and conditions of appreciation that differ greatly from the disinterested contemplation of distant scenes. Walking in the woods, paddling in a stream, hiking in a wilderness, driving down a highway or along a rural road in an agricultural landscape and sailing a boat became recognized as occasions for aesthetic pleasure, where an intrinsic part of the enjoyment lay in entering into some activity
---
Recognizing an aesthetic interest in the environment has had powerful implications for aesthetic inquiry more generally, for aesthetics has become concerned not only with art objects but with aesthetic situations. And this shift was not only a conceptual one but a material one—the focus of appreciation was no longer on a discrete object but on a situation, and the traditional dualistic assumption of Western philosophy that considered appreciation a subjective response to an external object became increasingly inappropriate and challenged. I have proposed replacing this model with the concept of aesthetic engagement to reflect the embeddedness of the appreciator in every environmental context. A related development is the formulation of ecological aesthetics or eco-aesthetics, primarily by Chinese environmental aestheticians.
Once the environment gained aesthetic legitimacy, it led to other enlargements of the venues of aesthetic appreciation. One of these lies in discerning aesthetic values in social contexts, where the aesthetic is found in situations involving different forms of human relationships, such as friendship, family and love. Aesthetic values are present in other associations as well, but often in negative forms. Indeed, negative aesthetic values are common in commercial situations, voluntary associations and, indeed, even forms of social relations. Such contexts have led to recognizing perceptual experiences that are common in social situations as negative in character. Identifying such forms of aesthetic negativity as aesthetic affront, aesthetic pain and aesthetic depravity has led to broadening the scope of aesthetics to include negative values. Because these values identify harmful practices, aesthetics merges with ethics to form a basis for social criticism.
---
5 The literature here is small but growing. See Arnold Berleant, *Sensibility and Sense: The Aesthetic Transformation of the Human World* (Exeter, UK: Imprint
A similar development is the idea of relational aesthetics developed by the French critic Nicolas Bourriaud. Applied to the work of a number of contemporary artists, relational aesthetics recognizes that their art creates a social space, a context for human relationships. The art work then becomes an occasion for human interactions and the audience is turned into a community. This is a development in the understanding of aesthetic experience, but under the influence of traditional aesthetics, the art world has co-opted the insight of relational aesthetics through the practice of replacing the term “relational aesthetics” with “relational art,” thus turning a situation into an object and entirely missing the point. Despite this, the insight of relational aesthetics remains valid.
Political aesthetics is yet another broadening of inquiry closely allied with social aesthetics. Jacques Rancière has called attention to the political implications of sensibility: its distribution, its control, and its uses, and he has developed this in the service of an argument for radical democracy. Going about this from another approach, Crispin Sartwell has interpreted the force of political ideology from the fact that it is actually an aesthetic system, and he sees politics promoting its goals by creating an aesthetic environment. Employing similar materials, Davide Panagia has related the force of an idea to the bodily sensations that accompany it. He finds sensation at the source of political thought and the aesthetic as the source of political action. My own recent work has joined both the social and the political implications of the aesthetic. Recognizing that the heart of the aesthetic lies in sensibility, I have claimed that developing the awareness and capacity of aesthetic sensibility leads to immensely broader and richer social experience. At the same time, through an awareness of negative aesthetics and the negative sublime, aesthetic sensibility provides a
---
6 Originated by the art critic Nicolas Bourriaud in his 1998 book, Esthétique relationnelle (Relational Aesthetics). Bourriaud later associated this idea with the effects of the internet on mental space.
7 See Ibid., 113, 13.
powerful tool for criticism by recognizing the human consequences of exploitative commercial and political practices.
Perhaps the most recent direction to emerge from the liberation and expansion of aesthetic experience is what is known as the aesthetics of everyday life. Although there is presently a flowering of work on everyday aesthetics, prevalent philosophical theory has long known the possibility of aesthetic gratification in ordinary objects and events, although it has degraded it. Widely valued by poets, especially Romantic poets and those in Asian traditions, the aesthetic in everyday situations has also been recognized by novelists. It may be most convenient, though, to locate its contemporary intellectual origins in John Dewey’s *Art as Experience*. In that book, Dewey argued against the separation of art from life by basing aesthetic experience on the biological and cultural conditions of human life. He located the aesthetic not in an internalized awareness of sensation and feeling, but in “a complete interpenetration of self and the world of objects and events.” Further, Dewey maintained that “the esthetic… is the clarified and intensified development of traits that belong to every normally complete experience.”
I shall not attempt a chronology of the development of the present interest in the aesthetics of everyday life. Instead, let me mention some significant stages in its emergence. An important source came from the innovations occurring in the arts in the mid-twentieth century. A prime influence was the work of the American composer and theorist John Cage.
---
12 Consider, for example, this passage from *Daniel Deronda* (1876): “[U]nder his calm and somewhat self-repressed exterior there was a fervor which made him easily find poetry and romance among the events of everyday life. And perhaps poetry and romance are as plentiful as ever in the world except for those phlegmatic natures who I suspect would in any age have regarded them as a dull form of erroneous thinking. They exist very easily in the same room with the microscope and even in railway carriages: what banishes them is the vacuum in gentlemen and lady passengers. How should all the apparatus of heaven and earth, from the farthest firmament to the tender bosom of the mother who nourished us, make poetry for a mind that has no movements of awe and tenderness, no sense of fellowship which thrills from the near to the distant, and back again from the distant to the near?” George Eliot, *Daniel Deronda* (1876) (New York: Knopf, 2000), 221.
14 Ibid., 19.
15 Ibid., 46.
Experimental and innovative, Cage’s interest in aleatoric (chance) music became widely known through his piano work of 1952, "4’33”", which consists entirely in the chance occurrence of audible sounds that occurred during that interval of time. Happenings, a predecessor of present-day performance art that originated in the 1950s, eliminated the separation between the artwork and the viewer, who became a participant in the work, which often comprised the unscripted, chance events of an ordinary situation.
Such innovative developments in the arts had a profound effect on concurrent work in aesthetics. Beginning in the 1990s, a series of steps in the expansion of aesthetic appreciation were taken that resolutely rejected the traditional separation of art from life activities, in the conviction that the scope of the arts has no limits. Two books published in 1992 made an extended case for a broader and more inclusive understanding of the aesthetic that incorporated all activities within the purview of art. David Novitz’s *The Boundaries of Art*\(^{16}\) abjured all limits to art and extended the aesthetic to personal and social relationships, and from these to politics. My book, *Art and Engagement*\(^{17}\), extended an argument I had first made in 1970 for reconstructing aesthetics under the influence of innovative developments in the contemporary arts.\(^{18}\) The argument explored the philosophical implications of considering aesthetic appreciation in both traditional and contemporary arts as active perceptual engagement. Two decades later, my book elaborated a theoretical position for the enlargement of aesthetic experience that would include the objects and events of daily life based on the practices and experience of the arts themselves.
Since these publications there has been a proliferation of work developing and detailing the unbridled extension of the aesthetic. The aesthetics of everyday life is the most recent stage of this progressive broadening in the scope of aesthetic inquiry which began with environmental aesthetics, and important work has already appeared. *The Aesthetics of Everyday Life*, a collection published in 1995, includes
---
essays on such topics as social aesthetics, the aesthetics of place, unplanned building, landscape, sport, weather, smells and tastes, and food. Katya Mandoki’s *Everyday Aesthetics* of 2007 was the first extended treatment of the subject. An English-language version of a book that had originally been published in Spanish in 1994, Mandoki’s *Everyday Aesthetics* is a far-reaching study of aesthetic theory of unusual scope and originality, centring around the crucial role of aesthetics in the contemporary, highly technological and complex societies in which we now live. This was soon followed by another volume with the same title and an equally distinctive and original focus, Yuriko Saito’s *Everyday Aesthetics*. Richly informed by the author’s native Japanese culture and her long experience teaching at a school of art and design, this book details the pervasive presence and influence of the aesthetic over the many facets of everyday life, remarkable and unremarkable alike. The most recent addition to these extended treatments is Thomas Leddy’s *The Extraordinary in the Ordinary: The Aesthetics of Everyday Life*. Leddy develops an extensive critical review of much of the literature, as well as the current scholarly debates, leading to his own contribution in the form of a phenomenologically-oriented approach to aesthetics. He proposes the concept of “aura” to identify the quality an object can have when experienced as aesthetic, a quality not confined to art objects but to the culturally-conditioned experiences of daily life.
**Conclusion: The Transformations of Aesthetic Theory**
I have depicted a broad landscape on these pages, rather like one of Constable’s wall-sized canvases, and I hope it shares their realism in its theoretical and historical perspective on developments in art and aesthetics. For besides the greater range of interests and applications in aesthetics, these developments have demonstrated the obsolescence of traditional concepts. Let me suggest some implications that seem to emerge from the trends in aesthetic experience and theory I have been detailing here. Although the authors I have mentioned may not subscribe
---
to all of the ideas I offer in my conclusion, I think that the developments to which they have contributed support this transformation of aesthetics.
To begin, it is clear that there is a sharp dislocation between the practices of many contemporary artists, their art works, and the experience and behaviour of the art public, and also with modern aesthetic theory, especially as it has been formulated under the influence of Kant. That theory is grounded in a separation between the subjectivity of aesthetic experience and the objectivity of the art object, in a separation between beauty and utility, and in the sequestering of the arts and natural beauty in museums and privileged views and away from the ordinary course of human life activities. While such a theory may be thought to honour the special aesthetic forcefulness of the noblest artistic creations, it does so at the expense of severely constricting the scope of aesthetic appreciation, and that belies the prevalence of aesthetic value in human cultures. Is it possible to have a theoretical frame that retains the validity of the sacred experience of great art and awesome natural scenes while, at the same time, recognizing and accounting for the fact that aesthetic interests pervade every domain of human experience?
I believe that it is possible and that we need concepts that can accommodate both in proper proportion which can be developed by enlarging the scope and understanding of aesthetics. First, we need to overcome the fragmentation that results from the many divisions drawn by traditional theory, such as between the appreciator of art and the art object, between beauty and utility, and between cognitive and non-cognitive experience. We need, in fact, a unifying concept that can admit connections, mutual influences, and reciprocity without losing the aesthetic altogether. Such a concept may be found in the notion of an “aesthetic field,” an idea that embodies the understanding that the presence and functioning of aesthetic values occur in a context that encompasses the principal factors in the experience of aesthetic value. The aesthetic field can accommodate artistic innovation and expanded occasions for appreciation along with traditional arts, for it enfolds the four functional constituents present in all: the objective, the appreciative, the creative, and the performative, none of which can be taken independently of the others.23
The central idea in appreciation now becomes “aesthetic engagement,” which recognizes the participation that active appreciation requires and that the contemporary arts increasingly demand. We also need to recognize
23 A further sign of the extension of the aesthetic may be seen in the annual French observance in Marseilles of a Semaine de la Pop Philosophie. See www.lesrencontresplacepublique.fr (accessed August 14, 2012). |
TRADITIONAL VALUES AND THEIR ADAPTATION IN SOCIAL HOUSING DESIGN: TOWARDS A NEW TYPOLOGY AND ESTABLISHMENT OF ‘AIR HOUSE’ STANDARD IN MALAYSIA
Mohd Firrdhaus Mohd Sahabuddin* and Cristina Gonzalez-Longo**
*School of Arts, Culture and Environment (ACE), The University of Edinburgh, United Kingdom
**Department of Architecture, University of Strathclyde, Glasgow, United Kingdom
dosh212@gmail.com, c.gonzalez-longo@strath.ac.uk
Abstract
Large migration from rural areas to urban areas like Kuala Lumpur has led to some implications for economic, social and cultural development. This high population has placed enormous demand on the existing housing stocks, especially for low-income groups. However, some issues arise, one of which is overheated indoor air temperature. This problem contributes to the high-energy usage that forces huge sums of money to be spent on cooling the house by using mechanical equipment. Therefore, this study focuses on thermal comfort in social housing, and incorporates traditional values into its design to achieve a certain measurement of natural ventilation in a house. From the study, the carbon emission and energy consumption for an air-conditioned house is 67%, 66% higher than a naturally ventilated house. Therefore, this research has come up with a new typology design, which has a large exposed wall area and full-length openings on the opposite walls to increase cross ventilation. At the end of this research, the measurement of thermal comfort for a naturally ventilated building called ‘Air House’ has been identified.
Keywords: Vernacular Architecture; Traditional Malay House; Air House; Sustainable Design; Social Housing; Malaysia
INTRODUCTION
Malaysia is located in Southeast Asia and is one of the fastest developing countries in the world. United Nations calculations have projected a dramatic urban future for this region (Salih 1982). The patterns of urbanization in Southeast Asia’s top cities are expected to increase rapidly.
Kuala Lumpur, as a capital city of a developing nation, plays a significant role in the urbanization and development of the country. The city’s population grew from about 0.32 million in 1957 to almost 1.62 million in 2006 (Mohit, et al., 2010). Based on this situation, Malaysia was expected to require about 709,400 new housing units between 2006 and 2010 (UN-HABITAT, 2011). The other problem that has arisen is the increasing number of squatters and slum areas. Social housing schemes such as People’s Housing Project (PHP) have been one of the approaches undertaken by the government to solve this problem. However, the issue of thermal comfort and space design in social housing is always a hot topic as it is not compatible with the living patterns of Malaysian society.
The low-income population that occupy the majority of social houses cannot afford to install and maintain an air-conditioning system in their homes. The system leads towards environmental pollution and energy waste. Therefore, one of the precedent studies is the traditional Malay house that has touted the advantages of maintaining the internal comfort level by natural and passive approaches.
The aims of this research are to seek the appropriate design methods in social housing that can achieve the right thermal comfort by using passive approaches. Thermal comfort is very important, not only for enhancing the quality of indoor living, but also because it can help to reduce carbon emission and energy consumption. At present, the thermal comfort conditions have been set up for indoor space designed with an air-conditioning system. Therefore, this
research tries to find the best description of thermal comfort conditions for a naturally ventilated space that suits Malaysia's environment and comfort zone.
MALAYSIAN VERNACULAR ARCHITECTURE AND ITS RELATIONSHIP TO CLIMATE
Vernacular Architecture of Traditional Malay House
The construction elements in Malay vernacular architecture are light timber-framed structures, forming elevated floors, sloping long roofs with large overhangs, louvered windows, timber or woven bamboo walls and screenings (on the upper walls). In terms of spatial elements, the basic spaces of the serambi, rumah ibu and dapur are the most common in a traditional Malay house (Figure 1). Although these houses have variations, elements such as spatial, functional and physical could be determined as the most common among them (Ismail & Ahmad, 2006).
The traditional Malay house can be divided into front and back sections, which are centred around the rumah ibu (the core house) and the dapur (kitchen) respectively (Yuan, 1987: 34). The serambi, in any event, will be at the front, followed by the rumah ibu and dapur. This arrangement is similar in all Malay houses and closely reflects the social interaction in Malay communities. Table 1 shows the common uses and privacy levels of interior spaces in a traditional Malay house.
Table 1: The uses and privacy levels of spaces in a typical traditional Malay house
(Source: Authors)
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Elements</th>
<th>Activities</th>
<th>Privacy Level</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Serambi / Anjung</td>
<td>Male entrance, relaxing, child monitoring, greet and treat space for guests</td>
<td>Public space</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>(Veranda / Porch)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Rumah Ibu (The Main House)</td>
<td>Meeting, praying, reading/reciting, sleeping (at night)</td>
<td>Semi private and private space</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Dapur (Kitchen)</td>
<td>Cooking, preparing foods, dining, washing</td>
<td>Private space</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Kolong (Space underneath the house)</td>
<td>Storing, working, repairing, drying clothes (rainy season)</td>
<td>Public space</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
The serambi is the smallest space among the other spaces. In some cases of the twelve-column house, this space usually accommodates a quarter of the house, and the floor level will always be lower than the rumah ibu floor level. The form of the serambi is usually rectangle and in some cases is an extraordinarily long narrow space (Chen, et al., 2008).
This area can be constructed with or without perimeter walls; however, it tends to look like a semi-outdoor space with numerous daylighting from the openings. Figure 2 shows the location of serambi space in two examples of Malay houses. The serambi in the house of Andak Endah has no walls, while the other serambi in the house of Tan Mas Mohar is built with walls.
The importance of the serambi is to serve as the first greeting space for guests after entering the house (Yuan, 1987). In a traditional Malay kampong, houses are built in random positions but can be seen from the distance. The serambi in this case will be the place for social interaction within the neighbourhood, and for parents to monitor their children playing in the yard.
The rumah ibu is the core space of the Malay house. This has the largest area, highest floor level and highest roof level (Yuan, 1987: 37). In respect of the needs and privacy of family members, bedrooms are provided, but the number is flexible and depends on family size (Figure 2). Lighting in this space is reduced to provide coolness. (Yuan, 1987).
The *rumah ibu* is usually used for official events and a place for treating well-known guests or close relatives. Official ceremonies relating to customs are also carried out here. These include engagement, marriage and wedding ceremony. On normal days, this space will be for relaxing, reading, mingling with other family members, and for use as a sleeping area at night (Chen, *et al*., 2008).
The kitchen, or *dapur*, is always situated at the back of the house (Yuan, 1987: 38). The functions of this space are for cooking, washing and eating. The basic layout of a Malay house will include a *dapur* within the *rumah ibu*, but in some cases the *dapur* will be connected with a *pelantar*, a roofless platform, or a *selang*. This, on the other hand, is an enclosed space that serves as a walkway and used as a second entrance for females during a ceremony (Figure 2). Although the *dapur* is the last space in the house, it holds the prestigious function of family gatherings where dining takes place together with other family members. Therefore, the *dapur* has a large space, which is considered the second largest in a Malay house.
Adapting to the Climate
The uniqueness of a Malay house is that it is built on stilts. This approach in many ways has several benefits from a thermal, functional and safety point of view. The raised floor, which is built higher than the ground, can catch winds of a higher velocity (Yuan, 1987: 71), and the use of timber planks for the floor, which have gaps between them, can bring the air to the inner space. Hanafi (1994) suggests that moist ground requires more sunlight to dry, and a raised floor is one of the solutions. The wet climate does not just make the ground damp but can also cause floods. Therefore, stilt heights vary between Malay houses located in the northern and southern regions.
Several research findings about stilt heights in traditional Malay houses have proved those in the northern region have more height than those in the southern region (Figure 3). The underneath space allocated by the raised floor can provide shelter for the livestock, working space, and a clothes-drying area during rainy seasons.
A traditional Malay house allows ventilation by having many full-length windows and doors at body level (Yuan, 1987: 76). Hassan and Ramli (2010) conclude that the large number of windows and openings aided by ornamentation at the perimeter walls can contribute to the cross ventilation process (Figure 3). However, further analysis by the same authors (2010) reveals that large openings on Malay house walls create high air intakes outside to reduce the performance of the stack effect.
Roof space in a traditional Malay house is properly ventilated by the provision of ventilation joints and panels in the roof construction (Yuan, 1987: 75). As one of the indigenous materials, the attap roof used in Malay houses has a low thermal capacity. This material does not retain heat and cools immediately. Another climatic responsive design of a double-slope roof is its gable ends. Having various motive designs, this component also has ventilation panels which allow air to flow into the roof space and cool the house (Yuan, 1987:111).
From the two examples in Figure 3, the roof overhangs in the Andak Endah house range from 1000mm to 1500mm, and the Datuk Baginda Tan Mas Mohar house has overhangs ranging from 1400mm to 1600mm. Large overhangs and the low exposed vertical areas (windows and walls) in a traditional Malay house provide good protection against driving rain, good shading, and allow the windows to be left open most of the time for ventilation (Yuan, 1987). Meanwhile, the roof angle for both cases ranges from 30° to 60°. The steep roof angle is used to quickly drain
off any rain falling onto the roof surface before it seeps through the layers of thatching (Lee, 2003:251).
**Architectural And Construction Issues of People’s Housing Project (PHP) Schemes**
Malaysia is one of the developing countries experiencing a highly rapid urban growth. This situation has led to large migration from rural to urban areas, and resulted in the existence of slums and squatter areas. Social housing such as the People’s Housing Project Scheme (PHP) is one of the initiatives by the government to solve this problem. The National Housing Department of Malaysia (JPN) has a standardized social housing design in Malaysia to ensure that the basic requirements of providing adequate accommodation for low-income families are achieved. Figure 4 shows the design of a unit of PHP 2000. The size for the unit is 130 square feet per person (JPN, 2006) or 650 square feet in total (60.38 square metres). This figure is for an average family member of 5 persons per unit (Goh & Ahmad, 2011). As the demand is very high, hundreds of thousands of PHP schemes have been built since 1998. However, the PHP design has received a lot of criticism for its insufficient space size and location.
Amongst the architectural issues reflected from the PHP design is the lack of a storage area. Therefore, the majority of residents placed their goods in front of their house; this affects the efficiency of a corridor as a safety route. The main door unit located abutting the corridor without any recess reduces the opportunity of neighbourhood interaction. Meanwhile, the small size and deep location of the kitchen and yard restricts its functions. The orientation of unit layout that has a minimum external wall area minimizes openings and air movement. The internal layout of the PHP 2000 that has complicated partitions reduces cross ventilation. Furthermore, openings such as aluminium casement windows without top louvers does not allow air movement to enter the indoor space.
On the other hand, the insufficient location of the bathroom and bedroom doors reduces the privacy level of residents. In the PHP design, the toilet and bathroom areas are separated, meaning a restriction in air and people movement in these spaces.
Furthermore, heavyweight materials with a high heat storage capacity are not suitable to a warm-humid climate like Malaysia. These materials take a considerable time to heat, then once heated take a long time to cool down again (Saini, 1970). Thus, lightweight materials that have a low heat storage capacity should be observed and replaced by conventional materials. In conjunction with that, prefabricated construction methods could be implemented in PHP 2000 to make it flexible in terms of internal space layout.
Materially, brick wall and post and beam concrete are the most common construction methods for social housing in Malaysia, largely due to these materials being cheap and easily available. Brick construction has a low u-value of 1.96 W/m²°C, though it has an eight-hour time lag, which has an adverse effect on the internal environment, especially at night (Hanafi, 1994).
Saini (1970) suggested that in a warm-humid region, heavyweight construction is at a disadvantage since the cooling process at night is so slow that the indoor temperature is kept too high for a comfortable sleep. Therefore, materials with a high heat storage capacity, such as brick, concrete and stone, have no advantage in Malaysia's climate.
In addition, the residents of PHP flats agreed that the adjustable louvered windows are better for air movement compared with aluminium casement windows (Goh & Ahmad, 2011).
Recently, the shortage of construction labour means prefabricated panels and frames have been used widely. In 1988 the Malaysian Government began efforts to persuade the construction industry in Malaysia to engage with a more systematic approach, such as an Industrialized Building System (IBS), in building construction (Abd. Rahman & Omar, 2006). Besides the aims to reduce the dependency on foreign labour, an IBS construction method can also contribute to reducing construction periods and pollution of the environment.
CASE STUDIES ANALYSIS
Case Studies Background
Three case studies have been selected, two of which are traditional Malay houses, and the other a social house from the People’s Housing Project Scheme (PHP 2000). The Malay houses selected are the house of Datuk Baginda Tan Mas Mohar and the house of Andak Endah. The houses are located in two different areas; the house of Datuk Baginda Tan Mas Mohar in the Negeri Sembilan state (southern region) and the house of Andak Endah in Perak state (northern region).
The house of Datuk Baginda Tan Mas Mohar, built in 1850, and the house of Andak Endah, built in 1920, have been chosen as typology houses and represent two different forms. The house of Datuk Baginda Tan Mas Mohar has a basic twelve-column structure, while Andak Endah has an expanded twelve-column structure. Social housing in Malaysia has been
standarized, so using the People’s Housing Project (PHP) as the third case study is quite reasonable.
Table 2 shows the total external wall area and its opening areas percentage. The Datuk Baginda Tan Mas Mohar house has 16.5% opening areas and the house of Andak Endah has 17.9% opening areas. Meanwhile, PHP 2000 has only 8.9% opening areas. The size and location of opening areas are two key factors that can allow air to enter the building sufficiently. The two cases of Malay houses have larger opening areas compared to PHP 2000.
Table 2: Total external wall areas and opening areas in all case studies (Source: Authors)
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Case Studies</th>
<th>Location of Simulation</th>
<th>External Wall Areas (m²)</th>
<th>External Opening Areas (m²)</th>
<th>Percentage (%)</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>House of Tan Mas Mohar</td>
<td>Kuala Lumpur / Subang</td>
<td>485.9</td>
<td>80.0</td>
<td>16.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>House of Andak Endah</td>
<td>Kuala Lumpur / Subang</td>
<td>259.0</td>
<td>46.4</td>
<td>17.9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>A Unit of PHP 2000</td>
<td>Kuala Lumpur / Subang</td>
<td>117.4</td>
<td>10.5</td>
<td>8.9</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Simulation’s Design Settings
The selection of the 6.4 version of the Integrated Environmental Solutions Software (also known as (IES <VE>) is due to its suitability towards the aims of the study, which is to simulate air temperature, relative humidity and air flow rate. For natural ventilation, MacroFlo, integrated into the IES simulation, is used to simulate airflow driven by wind pressure and buoyancy forces through elements such as windows, doors and openings. The simulation of MacroFlo runs from within Apache, which also simulates the indoor air temperature and relative humidity based on the ASHRAE design weather database. Meanwhile, MicroFlo uses a Computational Fluid Dynamic (CFD) to measure fluid flow and heat transfer processes around building spaces, which include the effects of climate (IES, 2012).
In this study, the simulation’s location database is Kuala Lumpur/Subang weather with the latitude 3° 12’ North and longitude 101° 55’ East. The sea level height is 8 metres with the mean dry-bulb temperature 36.4 and wet-bulb temperature 16.1 °C. No HVAC system is applied, while east-west orientation is used in all simulation models. The openings of all samples assigned as window/door side hung with opening angle is 90°, and opening hours range from 08:00 am to 10:00 pm. All the external walls are categorized as exposed walls without any obstacles.
According to Saini (1970), air temperature, relative humidity and air movement are the elements of climate which affect the comfort and well-being of the people. These factors also have complex inter-relationships between them, and, to a degree, each affects the other. Therefore, in this study, these three elements will be measured in detail, as well as carbon emission and energy consumption.
Simulation’s Results
From the simulation’s analysis, it can be deduced that the air temperatures in PHP 2000 and Malay houses show no significant difference within each other. The mean air temperatures obtained are within the comfort levels of 25.0 to 28.0 °C. However the relative humidity results are higher than their suggested level of 30% to 60%. Even though the relative humidity is high, there is only a small change in the air temperature. A change from 25 to 75% of relative humidity is predicted to move the temperature by only 1 °C (Fisk, 1981).
The crucial finding obtained from the simulation is the air movement. Air movement in this scenario is very important because it can encourage heat loss through the evaporation process.
Low air movement does little to generate a body’s heat loss. Furthermore, Fisk (1981) suggested that air movement of about 150.0 l/s (0.15 m/s) or greater tends to increase air temperature and a body’s heat loss. In conclusion, a traditional Malay house that has high air ventilation movement in and out has the better shelter and can provide more comfort to the human body than PHP 2000.
Table 3 shows the comparison of carbon emission and energy consumption for two different PHP 2000s. One unit uses an air conditioning system, the other is fully naturally ventilated. Both carbon emission and energy consumption for the PHP 2000 with an air conditioning system are higher than the PHP 2000 that uses natural ventilation. The carbon emission and energy consumption for the air-conditioned house is 67% and 66% higher than the naturally-ventilated house.
The huge gaps here show that it is worth encouraging people to use natural ventilation methods rather than an air conditioning system. Malay houses, for instance, can best describe the concept of a naturally ventilated house. Therefore, some elements, such as the size of openings and their placement, can be forwarded to a detailed level.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Variables</th>
<th>PHP 2000 (With Air Conditioning System)</th>
<th>PHP 2000 (Naturally Ventilated)</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Carbon Emission (KgCO₂/Year)</td>
<td>18,308</td>
<td>5,967</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Energy Consumption (MWh/Year)</td>
<td>20.20</td>
<td>5.8</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
TOWARDS A NEW TYPOLOLOGY OF SOCIAL HOUSING DESIGN AND THE ESTABLISHMENT OF ‘AIR HOUSE’ STANDARD IN MALAYSIA
*Theoretical Model of A New Social Housing*
A theoretical model (TM) has been developed as an initiator towards sustainable social housing in Malaysia. The model design is a reflection of the design issues found in PHP 2000 that were discussed before. The issues of space sizes, internal circulation, cross ventilation and numbers of openings in PHP 2000 have been taken into consideration. PHP 2000 and TM have the same overall area of 650 square feet, which is equivalent to 60.38 square metres (JPN, 2006).
Several architectural improvements have been implemented in the TM design, which involve the external and internal design forms. In TM the living/dining area is smaller than in PHP 2000 to allow foyer space in front of the main entrance. This space has a similar position to the *serambi* in a Malay house to promote interaction between neighbourhoods. The other improvement in TM is a larger yard space than in PHP 2000. This is because in PHP 2000, the yard design is too small and located too far from the exposed area, which leads to insufficient space for a clothes-drying area. On the other hand, the separation of the toilet and bathroom in PHP 2000 means the toilet size becomes too small and uncomfortable. In TM, both facilities are located in the same space; thus it creates better movement of the occupant and air.
Because the humidity is high, air movement is crucial to help perspiration to evaporate (Bureau of Meteorology, 2012). Hence, TM has been designed with windows opposite each other, a narrow floor plan and ventilation openings such as top and bottom louvers to allow air movement. The complicated wall arrangements in PHP 2000 reduce the cross ventilation that flows from the front to rear façade. In TM, cross ventilation is achieved with a parallel arrangement of windows as well as the placement of high louvers on the internal walls, as shown in Figure 5. Furthermore, overhangs are placed on top of the windows to provide protection from sunlight and rainfall. The width of the overhang in TM is 600 mm but none in PHP 2000.
Figure 5. Comparison of Ventilation Flow of PHP 2000 and theoretical model (TM)
(Source: Author)
Window design in a traditional Malay house is divided into three operable sections, which are top, middle and bottom. As shown in Figure 6, TM has 3.5 metre-high walls, and its external walls are divided into three sections. The sections are top louvers, windows and bottom louvers. In a Malay house design, some openings on the gable ends are placed to allow air movement. Thus, in TM, the same concept is translated through the placement of internal and external high louvers.
Figure 6: Placement of openings in theoretical model (TM) (Source: Author)
In a hot-humid climate, a lightweight structure performs better as it cools down rapidly (Saini, 1970: 25). Furthermore, ‘materials with heat-storage capacity such as bricks and concrete have little benefit’ (Bureau of Meteorology, 2012). In TM, lightweight materials such as a gypsum board with insulation is used for the external wall. Meanwhile, for the internal wall, plasterboard...
with insulation is the replacement for the conventional single brick wall. In a hot-humid climate, a thin insulation is preferable to bulk insulation, which is not desirable because it prevents the house cooling down at night (Bureau of Meteorology, 2012).
In conclusion, the TM design that has been applied with architectural and construction improvements has now become one of the new typologies for social housing in Malaysia. Therefore, the changes applied in TM should be tested and analyzed in IES <VE> software to assess their suitability. All the settings and simulation variables mentioned before will be used in order to provide a fair comparison.
**Results and Findings**
The main findings from the results are:
a) The mean air temperature in Malay houses and TM ranges from 25.2°C to 27.2°C. This range can be considered the best air temperature in a naturally ventilated building in Malaysia.
b) The minimum relative humidity in Malay houses and TM ranges from 30% to 60%. This range is achievable and therefore can be considered the preferred humidity range in a naturally ventilated building.
c) The mean internal ventilation in Malay houses and TM cases (except the dapur and serambi) ranges from 0.15 to 0.4 m/s (150.0 to 400.0 l/s). Meanwhile, the external ventilation in Malay houses and TM (except the dapur) ranges from 0.30 to 1.45 m/s (300.0 to 1450.0 l/s). Thus, the preferred range of air ventilation in a naturally ventilated building is 0.30 to 1.50 m/s.
d) The external opening area in a Malay house is 15% to 20%, while in TM, the opening areas on the walls facing outside (open space) is 25% and the wall facing inside (corridor) is about 50%. These percentages could be the best configuration of opening percentage in a naturally ventilated building.
e) The best carbon emission for a naturally ventilated building is 2571 kgCO2/year, and the energy consumption should not be more than 5.1963 MWh/year.
The findings listed above are the initial parameters than can be used as the first Air House standard in Malaysia.
‘Air House’ Standard for Naturally Ventilated Building in Malaysia
Based on all the results defined in Malay houses and theoretical models, the proposed Air House design standard is listed in Table 4. The air temperature ranges from 25°C to 27°C. The relative humidity for ‘Air House’ is 30% to 60%. Meanwhile, the air movement is between 0.30 to 1.50 m/s. The total energy consumption for Air House standard is less than 5.0 MWh/year and less than 2500 kgCO2/year for carbon emission.
Table 4: The initial design conditions of ‘Air House’ for naturally ventilated building (Source: Authors)
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Recommended Air Temperature</th>
<th>25°C – 27°C</th>
<th>77.0°F – 80.6°F</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Recommended Design Relative Humidity</td>
<td>30% - 60%</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Recommended Air Movement</td>
<td>0.30 m/s – 1.50 m/s</td>
<td>300.0 l/s – 1500.0 l/s</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Energy Consumption</td>
<td>Less than 5.0 MWh/year</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Carbon Emission</td>
<td>Less than 2500 kgCO2/year</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 5 shows the design parameters for a naturally ventilated building in Malaysia. 15% to 25% of an opening area is recommended for an external wall that faces an open space, while for a wall covered by shade or facing another block, 25% to 50% of an opening area is recommended. As higher altitude provides higher velocity, the units located on the eleventh floor and above should have a smaller opening area than units on the first to tenth floors. Furthermore, to promote air movement and cross ventilation, the four components of opening in Air House that
should be implemented are bottom louvers, windows, top louvers and high louvers. The proportionate rule of these openings is $2x : 2x : 1x : 1x$ relatively, as shown in Figure 7.
Moreover, the unit plan layout should be in proportion of $1.5x$ for walls parallel to the corridor, and $1x$ for walls perpendicular to the corridor (Figure 7). To provide shade from sun radiation and rainfall, the minimum overhang recommended is 0.6 metres, while to promote better air circulation around the building, breaks between units are recommended. In terms of material selection, Air House standard uses prefabricated, lightweight and low thermal mass materials for the walls, floor and roof components.
Table 5: ‘Air House’ design parameters for natural ventilated buildings in Malaysia (Source: Authors)
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>‘Air House’ Design Parameters</th>
<th></th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Proportion of Opening Components (Bottom Louvres :</td>
<td>$2x : 2x : 1x : 1x$</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Windows : Top Louvers : High Louvres)</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Opening Areas for Walls Facing Outside (1st Floor to</td>
<td>15% to 25% (from total external wall area)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10th Floor)</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Opening Areas for Walls Facing Inside (1st Floor to</td>
<td>25% to 50% (from total external wall area)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10th Floor)</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Opening Areas for Walls Facing Outside (11th Floor and</td>
<td>10% to 20% (from total external wall area)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>above)</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Opening Areas for Walls Facing Inside (11th Floor and</td>
<td>20% to 45% (from total external wall area)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>above)</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Proportion of Plan Unit Layout (Parallel Wall :</td>
<td>1.5x : 1x</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Perpendicular Wall)</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Range of Overhang’s Depth</td>
<td>0.6 - 1.0 meter</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Breaks between Units</td>
<td>2.0 meters</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Recommended Materials</td>
<td>Prefabricated, Lightweight and Low Thermal Mass</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Figure 7: ‘Air House’ Design Parameters Diagram (Source: Author)
Conclusions and Recommendations
As a conclusion, there are some design issues discovered in traditional Malay houses and social housing. According to research, materials that are used in Malay houses are more practical and reliable for releasing heat readily, compared to high thermal capacity materials such as bricks and concrete in social housing. These high thermal materials store heat and cause uncomfortably high temperatures at night.
In a traditional Malay house, full-length openings are located at body level, while in modern housing the openings are smaller and only concentrate on the upper part of the body.
Therefore, the cross ventilation process often fails in modern housing. Overhangs are important in opening components because they can provide shade for the walls from sun radiation, glare and rainfall. This key element is always neglected in modern housing.
For religious reasons, the orientation of a traditional Malay house normally faces Mecca or an east-to-west direction. This orientation, by coincidence, can reduce the external wall that faces direct sunlight. However, in modern housing, this orientation is not emphasized for profit motives. Moreover, the internal space arrangement in a traditional Malay house uses a front-to-back order where the *serambi* is the first area, followed by the *rumah ibu* and *dapur*. This arrangement preserves the privacy level of a Malay family and contributes to neighbourhood enhancement.
The results of the analysis of Malay houses and People's Housing Project (PHP 2000) show that the performance of air temperature and relative humidity in both cases were not significantly different. However, for internal and external air ventilation, the traditional Malay houses recorded 1,450.3 l/s (1.45 m/s) compared to just only 31.7 l/s (0.03 m/s) for PHP 2000. The massive amount of air ventilation in Malay houses contributes to a better performance of the house thermally and economically.
The theoretical model has been developed and tested. The model has been improved according to the architectural and construction issues found in an actual PHP 2000. One of the major improvements is the proportionate rule of layout unit. Instead of a long and narrow layout, the theoretical model has a longer and wider layout where the external wall area is longer than PHP 2000; this promotes massive airflow in, out and across the house through the opening components.
Using the results obtained from the analyses, a standard called Air House has been defined. This standard is totally focused on natural ventilation strategies, in which air is designed to flow across the house compound. Meanwhile, in ‘Passivhaus’, the design is more about airtightness and isolation of heat within the house compound. The establishment of ‘Air House’ could perhaps be a new beginning for Malaysian architecture and its tropical region.
The hot temperature and high humidity climate in Malaysia encourages the use of an air conditioning system as the primary option to cool the house. Nowadays, this is the standard practice in Malaysia. An effort should be made to rectify this situation. The theoretical model that has been developed proves that there is a possible way to achieve the right thermal comfort by using passive methods in social housing. Therefore, this study answers the problem posed at the beginning of the study.
Upon completion of the study, it can be deduced that there is a huge gap between the traditional approach and modern housing. One of the reasons for this situation is the inappropriate regulations and standards being used in Malaysia. Therefore, some improvements and revisions should be made in order to meet the current challenges, as some of the regulations are not compatible with Malaysia’s climate and culture.
In clauses 32, 33, 34 and 35 of Uniform Building By-Law (UBBL) Part III (space, light and ventilation), open spaces must be provided in residential building compounds. However, the categories listed are only related to buildings abutting a street, a back lane and a detached building; there is no category relating to linked units abutting a corridor in a multi-story building. According to the research findings, a common space in front of the main entrance is an important element in building a good, responsible society. Therefore, in theoretical model (TM), foyer space is provided to serve as interaction space as well as storage area. Thus, an improvement that can be compatible with local culture and the basic needs of the people should be made.
Clause 39 (1) states that residential buildings shall be provided with natural lighting and natural ventilation. The openings area is not less than 10% of floor area. For an example that follows the minimum requirement, a living/dining area in TM that has 19.6 square metres will have an area of window opening of less than 2.0 square meters. Based on the research findings, this percentage is too small for an opening to allow air movement. As TM has been proven to provide good air movement, clause 39 (1) should be revised to a new and more suitable percentage of opening area that is compatible with Malaysia’s climate.
In order to achieve thermal comfort through air movement, a large opening at the external and internal wall should be made. Therefore, 15% to 20% of external openings are required on an external wall for achieving suitable amount of air movement. Moreover, an opening at a high level of wall should be placed to allow ventilation and air change processes.
The window openings are suggested to be placed at body level range and must be 15% to 20% of a room’s external wall. For internal partitions, fixed louvers could be placed on the top part of the partition to allow air transfer from room to room.
Moreover, in clause 42 (2), the minimum kitchen area in UBBL is 4.5 square metres and the minimum width is 1.5 metres. This measurement is still small and leads to insufficient space area. Therefore, the kitchen area should be revised to be at least 8.0 square metres and 2.0 metres minimum in width.
Finally, in clause 44 (1), the minimum height of a living room is 2.5 metres, while a kitchen is 2.25 metres. These heights are considered low and less efficient to promote air movement; thus, the minimum of 3.5 metres, as in TM’s design, should be used in this clause.
The Air House concept that focuses on natural ventilation in residential buildings has proven it can reduce 86% of carbon emission and 74.3% of energy consumption compared to standard practice. The Air House concept has brought sustainable design in Malaysia to a new level of achievement; therefore, it should be explored and expanded in greater detail in the future.
Thermal comfort is one of the basic needs. However, in urban areas, thermal comfort becomes more crucial as houses are constructed in multi-level format with compact design. The concept of Air House could perhaps provide a new dimension in the design of comfortable and sustainable housing in the future.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
I would like to thank the various people and organisations whose help have made this research possible. The Center of Built in the Malay World (KALAM), Universiti Teknologi Malaysia (UTM) and KALAM’s director, YM Dr. Raja Nafida Raja Shahminan, for her support and the contribution of study materials. John Brennan, Head of Architecture and Landscape Architecture (ESALA), The University of Edinburgh for his support and lecture notes.
This research was conducted in The University of Edinburgh, which also has been awarded to ‘Andrew Grant Award’ for the best dissertation for MSc. Advanced Sustainable Design in year 2012.
REFERENCES
NOTE
This paper was presented in the 17th International Conference on Sustainable Architecture and Urban Design (ICSAUD 2015) in Venice, Italy on 13th – 14th of April 2015.
AUTHORS
Mohd Firrdhaus Mohd Sahabuddin
Postgraduate Student, Master of Science Advanced Sustainable Design (2011-2012)
The University of Edinburgh, School of Arts, Culture and Environment (ACE)
dosh212@gmail.com
Cristina Gonzalez-Longo
Lecturer in Architectural Heritage, Conservation and Community Identity
Department of Architecture, University of Strathclyde, Glasgow, United Kingdom
c.gonzalez-longo@strath.ac.uk |
Designing behavior in interaction: using aesthetic experience as a mechanism for design
Citation for published version (APA):
Document status and date:
Published: 01/01/2010
Publisher Version:
Publisher's PDF, also known as Version of Record (includes final page, issue and volume numbers)
Please check the document version of this publication:
• A submitted manuscript is the version of the article upon submission and before peer-review. There can be important differences between the submitted version and the official published version of record. People interested in the research are advised to contact the author for the final version of the publication, or visit the DOI to the publisher's website.
• The final author version and the galley proof are versions of the publication after peer review.
• The final published version features the final layout of the paper including the volume, issue and page numbers.
Link to publication
General rights
Copyright and moral rights for the publications made accessible in the public portal are retained by the authors and/or other copyright owners and it is a condition of accessing publications that users recognise and abide by the legal requirements associated with these rights.
• Users may download and print one copy of any publication from the public portal for the purpose of private study or research.
• You may not further distribute the material or use it for any profit-making activity or commercial gain
• You may freely distribute the URL identifying the publication in the public portal.
If the publication is distributed under the terms of Article 25fa of the Dutch Copyright Act, indicated by the “Taverne” license above, please follow below link for the End User Agreement:
www.tue.nl/taverne
Take down policy
If you believe that this document breaches copyright please contact us at:
openaccess@tue.nl
providing details and we will investigate your claim.
Designing Behavior in Interaction: Using Aesthetic Experience as a Mechanism for Design
Philip R. Ross* and Stephan A. G. Wensveen
Department of Industrial Design, Eindhoven University of Technology, Eindhoven, the Netherlands
As design moves into the realm of intelligent products and systems, interactive product behavior becomes an ever more prominent aspect of design, raising the question of how to design the aesthetics of such interactive behavior. To address this challenge, we developed a conception of aesthetics based on Pragmatist philosophy and translated it into a design approach. Our notion of Aesthetic Interaction consists of four principles: Aesthetic Interaction (1) has practical use next to intrinsic value, (2) has social and ethical dimensions, (3) has satisfying dynamic form, and (4) actively involves people’s bodily, cognitive, emotional and social skills. Our design approach based on this notion is called ‘designing for Aesthetic Interaction through Aesthetic Interaction’, referring to the use of aesthetic experience as a design mechanism. We explore our design approach through a case study that involves the design of intelligent lamps and outlines the utilized design techniques. The paper concludes with a set of practical recommendations for designing the aesthetics of interactive product behavior.
Keywords – Aesthetic Interaction, Behavior Design, Design Approach, Dynamic Form, Ethics, Industrial Design, Innovation.
Relevance to Design Practice – This paper presents a design approach that helps design aesthetics of interactive product behavior and reach innovation in interactive product design.
Introduction
Aesthetics is essential to Industrial Design. The concept of aesthetics in design is often related to the nice looking shape of a product, a trendy color scheme, or a pleasant surface texture. It is also commonly viewed as a way to express a socio-cultural message, e.g., a specific lifestyle, through the use of form and material (Muller, 1997). Such notions of aesthetics have a strong and fruitful tradition in Industrial Design, but the field is changing. Products are becoming ever more networked, adaptive, context-aware and pro-active as envisioned by Aarts & Marzano (2003) and we increasingly integrate such intelligent technologies into our everyday lives. An essential characteristic of intelligent products and systems is that they portray behavior in interaction. Designing such products and systems requires an aesthetic that goes beyond traditional static form aspects. It requires a new language of form that incorporates the dynamics of behavior. There is more to this than simply giving form to the behavior of these devices. Human-product or human-system interaction is reciprocal, with multiple parties behaving and influencing each other. If a device behaves in a specific manner, a person may respond in a specific manner and vice-versa. Aesthetics should cover this interplay since a beautiful product is of little use if it elicits unpleasant, inappropriate, ugly or even inhumane interactions. We argue that once we start designing the aesthetics of interactive behavior, a social and ethical dimension is introduced as well. The work of Verbeek (2005) on Technological Mediation shows that the way a device behaves influences a person’s response to it. Ling (2004) vividly describes how the adoption of mobile phones changed the way we manage our social relations, for example. In the context of highly integrated Ambient Intelligent products and systems, their impact on everyday life is not trivial and to assess what influence is desirable, ethical considerations come into play. The way we want our products and systems to influence us is in the end an ethical consideration, a matter of values. In our view, aesthetics can be a powerful design driver that helps connect dynamic form, social and ethical aspects. To explain why we think aesthetics can have this power, we turn to the philosophical tradition called Pragmatist Aesthetics (Shusterman, 2000).
Pragmatist Aesthetics
Central to Pragmatist Aesthetics is the aesthetic experience. There is no final definition of what an aesthetic experience is because according to Dewey this experience is impossible to describe accurately with words (Shusterman, 2000, p. 55). However, a number of principles can be outlined that characterize the Pragmatist approach to aesthetics. Firstly, for Pragmatists, the aesthetic has practical use, next to intrinsic value. This means that although an aesthetic experience is valuable in itself, it is...
Aesthetic (1970) is assistant professor at the directed at eliciting a special kind of interaction experience that is system’ (Petersen et al., 2004, p. 275). Petersen et al.’s designs are engagement and imagination in the exploration of an interactive fears, etc’. Aesthetic Interaction in their view ‘promotes curiosity, Pragmatist Aesthetics. Petersen et al. agree that aesthetics has an to elicit Aesthetic Interactions, stressing the dynamic aspect of people’s mind and body in interaction. Their design work aims cultural background of people in design and capitalizing on Shusterman’s Pragmatist Aesthetics in the design of interactive not considered as an aesthetic experience.
Petersen, Iversen, Krogh, & Ludvigsen, (2004) apply Shusterman’s Pragmatist Aesthetics in the design of interactive products and systems. They advocate incorporating the socio-cultural background of people in design and capitalizing on people’s mind and body in interaction. Their design work aims to elicit Aesthetic Interactions, stressing the dynamic aspect of Pragmatist Aesthetics. Petersen et al. agree that aesthetics has an instrumental dimension ‘related to actual human needs, values, fears, etc’. Aesthetic Interaction in their view ‘promotes curiosity, engagement and imagination in the exploration of an interactive system’ (Petersen et al., 2004, p. 275). Petersen et al.’s designs are directed at eliciting a special kind of interaction experience that is engaging, intriguing, invigorating and serendipitous, although the form dimension of aesthetic experience is not explicitly treated in their framework.
**Our Approach to Aesthetics**
Pragmatist Aesthetics covers ground that is closely related to the challenges of dynamic form and the social and ethical implications of product behavior in interaction. Our approach to aesthetics is an adaptation of the four principles of Pragmatist Aesthetics outlined in the previous section, combined with Petersen et al.‘s notion of Aesthetic Interaction. The following states the resulting four central principles of our notion of Aesthetic Interaction. Aesthetic Interaction is an experienced interaction with a product or system that:
- **has practical use next to intrinsic value.** Aesthetic Interaction is rewarding in itself (intrinsically valuable), but also of practical use (instrumental). Experiencing beauty is a worthwhile experience, but only treating beauty in that way fails to do justice to its power. Norman (2002) coined the phrase ‘attractive things work better’ to point to the practical use of beauty in design. Moreover, beauty, or the expectation of beauty, can inspire and invite us to act, and invigorate us as Shusterman (2000) described. Designing for Aesthetic Interaction is designing for a beauty that is rewarding in itself and makes a practical difference at the same time.
- **has social and ethical dimensions.** Not everyone will find the same things beautiful. And a particular thing will give the same person an experience of beauty or not, depending on the situation. The experience of aesthetics depends on a broad range of socio-cultural factors, such as people’s values, personality, situation and history (Locher, Overbeek, & Wensveen, 2010). Since aesthetics has practical consequences, such as the power to influence our behavior, it also has an ethical dimension. Designers need to consider what kind of behaviors they want to invite with their designs.
- **has satisfying dynamic form.** Form in the dynamic sense is an inherent part of Aesthetic Interaction and differs from the traditional concept of form used in design. Form in design often relates to static aspects of products, like shape and color. Form in Pragmatist Aesthetics is dynamic and opens design up to the dynamics of product and person behavior in interaction. Designing for Aesthetic Interaction includes striving for satisfying form in the dynamics of interaction.
- **involves the whole human being.** Hummels, Djajadiningrat, and Overbeek (2001) offer a way to involve the whole human being in design by respecting human skills. Their research identifies four main categories of human skill as relevant for interaction: cognitive, perceptual-motor, emotional and social skills. As Shusterman remarked, the experience of beauty is not limited to intellectual contemplation of beauty. This intellectual beauty is the kind one experiences when encountering an elegant mathematical proof, for example. Aesthetic experience also involves bodily skills, such as the experience of beauty that comes from mastering the technique of playing a challenging part on a musical
---
**Dr. ir. Philip Ross (1978) studied Industrial Design Engineering at Delft University of Technology. In 2004, Ross started at the department of Industrial Design at Eindhoven University of Technology as a PhD candidate. During the spring semester of 2006, he was a visiting researcher and teacher at Carnegie Mellon University’s School of Design in Pittsburgh, USA. He completed his PhD research on the ‘Ethics and aesthetics in intelligent product and system design’ in 2008. This thesis explored how to incorporate ethics in the design of intelligent systems, focusing on interactive lighting systems. Philip Ross currently works as assistant professor in the Designing Quality in Interaction group at Industrial Design in Eindhoven. He is also active in the TU/e Intelligent Lighting Institute, researching socially intelligent lighting environments. Ross was keynote speaker at DeSForM 2009 (Design and Semantics of Form and Movement conference), and gives presentations and workshops in an international context.**
**Dr. ir. S. A. G. (Stephan) Wensveen (1970) is assistant professor at the department of Industrial Design at Eindhoven University of Technology. He studied Industrial Design Engineering at Delft University of Technology, where he was one of the initiators of the ID-Studiolab design research studio. He started his research on the relationship between emotions, expressivity and product design in 1999. He gained his PhD in 2005 with his thesis, which aimed to bridge the tangible interaction, affective computing and product design communities. His thesis (co)-developed design methods and articles are part of many international design curricula. Since 2005, he has served on multiple conference review committees and was keynote speaker at DPPI’07 (Designing Pleasantable Product and Interfaces conference) and SIDeR’08 (Student Interaction Design and Research conference). His current interests are in using the power of design to integrate research, education and innovation, especially in the areas of textiles and electronics.**
instrument. Aesthetic experience also involves our emotional sensitivity and state. The experience of beauty can change our emotional state, but its emergence also depends on it. It also relates to our social skills. We can experience beauty in a social interaction. The commonly used sentences ‘Don’t be ugly’ and ‘That is a beautiful thing you did’ testify to this social dimension of aesthetic experience. Designing for Aesthetic Interaction in our view should respect and involve these four categories of human skills.
From Theory to Practice: The Intelligent Lamp Case Study
The question at this point is how designers can use these four principles of Aesthetic Interaction to create intelligent, ‘behaving’ products. We conducted a research-through-design case study that explored how to incorporate the four principles into design. In the study, we designed and analyzed intelligent reading lamps, attempting to implement the four principles in two ways. Firstly, the lamps were given a goal beyond only giving light. We aimed to design lamps that invited Aesthetic Interactions that related to specific values (principle 2). Secondly, we created a new design approach that used the experience of Aesthetic Interaction as a tool for exploration. The next sections explain this case study in more detail and treat the utilized design techniques.
The Design Goal for the Lamps
We took Aesthetic Interaction as the design goal for our intelligent reading lamps. The lamps we set out to design would not only give reading light, but would also invite Aesthetic Interaction. Principle 2 states that Aesthetic Interaction has a social and ethical dimension, involving, among other things, people’s values. We decided to use human values (Schwartz, 1992) to characterize the interactions we wanted to elicit with the lamps. Human values are defined as follows: ‘Values (1) are concepts or beliefs, (2) pertain to desirable end states or behaviors, (3) transcend specific situations, (4) guide selection or evaluation of behavior and events, and (5) are ordered by relative importance’ (Schwartz, 2004). Examples of values are Creativity, Helpfulness and Social Power. We sought to design intelligent lamps that would invite, for example, helpful, creative or socially powerful behaviors from the people interacting with them as well as providing reading light.
Design Approach
We felt that we needed a new design approach to infuse design activity with the four principles. We stated in the four principles that Aesthetic Interaction involves practical use, dynamic form, social and ethical implications, and involves the whole human being. A traditional technique like sketching would not be optimal for exploring dynamic form (principle 3). One could involve dynamic form by making dynamic animations, but such a design technique would not live up to principle 4, which seeks to involve the whole human being. An animation would not reach the richness of the physical world and it would not allow the human being to apply their full perceptual-motor skills. Last but not least, as Frens (2006) remarks, interaction is too rich and complex to explore with any non-interactive medium. These considerations brought us to devise a new design approach that we call Designing for Aesthetic Interaction through Aesthetic Interaction. The approach consists of three concrete steps:
- Step 1: Creating behaviors through acting out choreographies.
- Step 2: Specifying behavior in dynamic form language.
- Step 3: Implementing dynamic form in experiential prototypes.
These steps are only briefly described in the current paper. A more detailed account of each step is available in Ross (2008). The description of each step ends with reflection on how it fits the four principles of Aesthetic Interaction.
Step 1. Creating Behaviors through Acting Out Choreographies
As stated earlier, behavior in interaction is too rich and complex to design on a static medium like paper. Already in this first step, we worked in an experiential way and aimed to involve the four kinds of human interaction skills (principle 4) in the design process. We asked professional dancers, specialized in modern improvisational dance, to participate in this step. Dancers can be socially and emotionally expressive in using their body and have the vocabulary to reflect on what they do with their bodies in terms of form (principle 3). We conducted an experiment in which the dancers acted out intelligent lamps and created the behaviors we were looking for in interaction with participants. In other words, we gave the dancers the same goals we set for our to-be-designed intelligent lamps. We designed light objects for the dancers that were adjustable in brightness and that could be easily attach to the body so that they would feel like part of their body (See Figure 1).
Figure 1. The dancer, standing on the left side, rehearses his strategy for interaction. The light object is attached to his right hand. He can adjust the light’s brightness using his thumb, which does not interfere with the expression of the rest of his body.
The one-day experiment consisted of two parts. During the morning session, the dancers created and rehearsed their strategies for behavior. We selected a set of eight mutually contrasting values for the dancers to work with. In the afternoon, their behavioral strategies were tested with a group of participants.
www.ijdesign.org
who interacted with the dancers and filled in a questionnaire about the interactions afterwards. Both sessions took place in a context resembling a living room, to account somewhat for social context (principle 2).
The morning session used a variation on Klooster and Overbeeke’s Choreography of Interaction technique (2005). We instructed the dancers not to speak and only use their bodies as a means of interaction. The resulting dancer strategies were like ‘structured improvisations’; they had a general strategy in terms of their qualities of movements, but also practiced how to fit that plan to unexpected actions of the participants without loosing the original character of the interaction.
In the following, we describe two of eight dancer behaviors using scenes from the experiment to illustrate the approach. These two strategies, which turned out to be successful in the afternoon’s evaluation experiment, were created for the values Helpful and Social Power. For more details, see Ross, Overbeeke, Wensveen, and Hummels (2008).
**Eliciting Social Power in Interaction**
Figure 2 shows scenes from the experiment in which the dancer-lamp tries to elicit Social Power in the interaction with the participants. The dancer-lamp’s social strategy was to make the participant feel powerful by taking on a humble attitude, like a servant. The dancer-lamp tried to continuously anticipate the actions of the participant and to create optimal lighting on the magazine for reading. During the entire interaction, the lamp took on a slightly bent posture to be physically subservient.
**Eliciting the Value Helpful in Interaction**
Figure 3 shows how the dancer-lamp elicited helpful behaviors in interaction.
**Reflection in Terms of the Principles of Aesthetic Interaction**
The dancers used perceptual-motor, emotional, cognitive and social skills in their creative process (principle 4: involving the whole human being). Note the contrast with a traditional technique like sketching, which makes much less use of social skills and the full body. The resulting interactions also involved the bodily and social skills of the participants. The Choreographies created by the dancers sought to elicit value-related interactions with the participants. The experiment achieved this goal in several cases, indicating the successful application of the ethical dimension of Aesthetic Interaction (principle 2). The dancers reported afterwards that the process of creating the Choreographies was particularly enjoyable (principle 1: intrinsic and practical value). They explicitly searched for a satisfying dynamic form. Their Choreographies had a beginning, middle and end, and were carefully crafted in terms of the qualities of their movement. At one point, they just ‘felt right’, which marked the completion of the strategy (principle 3: satisfying dynamic form).
**Step 2. Specifying Behavior in Dynamic Form Language**
The aforementioned experiment produced a number of product behaviors in interaction that successfully invited people to behave...
according to a specific value. We wanted to learn from these behaviors and translate them into a format tailored to the design of our intelligent lamps. The dancers used bodily expression to serve the social goal of eliciting value related behaviors from the participants. Translating these strategies into the design of interactive lamps required a translation mechanism to map behavior from one body (human) to another (lamp). We chose to focus on dynamic form—an essential element of Aesthetic Interaction (principle 3)—as the translation mechanism, but before we could describe the dancer strategies we needed to create a dynamic form language. This resulted in the Interaction Quality Framework described briefly below.
**The Interaction Quality Framework**
To find a dynamic form language, we turned to the world of dance and Laban Movement Analysis (Hackney, 1998; Laban & Lawrence, 1947). Laban Movement Analysis is a rich set of elements that qualitatively describes movements. This contrasts with a more geometrical language like Vaughan’s (1997). For example, LMA does not characterize movement in terms of physical speed like Vaughan’s language, but in terms of whether the movement has a leisurely character, ‘Sustained Time’ in LMA vocabulary, or an urgent character, ‘Quick Time’. LMA can form a bridge between the ‘literal’ physical movements of a person or device and the social implications of this movement. For example, doing something urgently (Quick Time) or leisurely (Sustained Time) is relevant in social terms. The difference between Quick and Sustained movements is also present in the actual bodily movements. Used in this way, LMA serves as a link between form, social relevance (principle 2 and 3) and bodily expression (principle 4).
LMA is an elaborate set of qualities, some not relevant to our purpose. Our Interaction Quality Framework includes a selection of LMA qualities, supplemented with qualities that we devised for our purpose. Figure 4 shows the Interaction Quality Framework, including short explanations of the qualities. It is beyond the scope of this paper to treat the framework in detail, but it has the following main qualities:
- **Effort** describes the use of energy. It is ‘the feeling-tone, the texture’ of movement (Hackney, 1998, p. 219). An example of an Effort quality is whether a movement has Quick Time or Sustained Time, or Free Flow or Bound Flow (uncontrolled vs. controlled movements).
- **Body** describes how the whole body is organized (body posture), which parts are moving (Body Parts Involved) and how physical contact is made (External Connections).
- **Kinespheric Reach** gives information about the size of the movement sphere, whether it is within or outside personal space.
- **Shape Qualities** pertains to the shape the body makes and how this shape changes. For example, whether the body opens up to the other or closes itself off. Or whether the body advances towards the other or retreats.
- **Initiative** indicates who generally causes the other to move and who generally reacts to the other’s movements.
- **Interaction Dynamic Development** describes how the energy develops in the interaction. For example, is the interaction rhythmical? Is there an increase or decrease of energy?
The framework includes three perspectives on an interaction: the behavior of the product (Product perspective), the person (Person perspective) and the unity of product and person (Unity perspective). This last view needs some clarification. In dance, it is common to regard an interaction between multiple dancers as a whole with its own expression. We apply such a view to human-product interaction. Product and a person are treated as an expressive unity, a single body that moves. Viewing them as a single body helps pinpoint interaction qualities that would normally remain unnoticed. The qualities in the framework help characterize the behavior of this unity. For example, if a person and a product turn away from each other, they open up to the environment. In the framework, this is the Opening Shape Quality.
**Towards Dynamic Form Design Criteria**
We used the Interaction Quality Framework to analyze the three most successful dancer-participant interactions from the Light Dancer experiment in terms of dynamic form. We translated all behavior into dynamic form for Product, Person and Unity. Four designers who had received elementary LMA training systematically undertook the translation in a rating experiment. Ross (2008) describes this experiment in detail.
We turned only the Product dynamic form into design criteria, this being easiest to control in the design process. Our intention was to design lamps that would behave with the same dynamic form (movement qualities) as the dancers they were modeled after. In the following, we will limit our treatment of this process to the product behavior inviting Helpful participant behavior.
**Criteria for Inviting Helpful Behaviors**
The set of criteria for lamp behavior that should invite a person to become helpful consists of 12 specific Interaction Qualities. For example, the criteria includes Sustained Time (leisurely movements), Free Flow (outpouring, fluid movements) and Causing Initiative (the lamp causes the person to move). We can see clear links between these criteria and the dancer Choreography described in Figure 3. For example, instability is present in the criteria Sustained Time and Free Flow. Asking for help causes the participant to move, which is indeed described in the Initiative criterion.
**Reflection on the Principles of Aesthetic Interaction**
This second step heavily emphasized the principle of satisfying dynamic form (principle 3). This emphasis was a consequence of our interest in the question how to design aesthetics of interactive product behavior. The LMA qualities link physical aspects of movement to social relevance and form, which ties into principle 4 (involving whole human being) and principle 2 (social and ethical implications). The training of the designers who did the dynamic form analysis consisted of both looking at interactions...
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Interaction Effort</th>
<th>Body Attitude</th>
<th>Shape Qualities</th>
<th>Kinespheric Reach</th>
<th>Initiative</th>
<th>External Connections</th>
<th>Body parts involved</th>
<th>Interaction Dynamic Development</th>
<th>Comments</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>What is the characteristic dynamic quality of movement in the whole interaction?</td>
<td>What is the characteristic body posture in the whole interaction?</td>
<td>How does the body change shape in relation to the other?</td>
<td>What is the reach of space around the body spanned by the movements?</td>
<td>Are the player’s movements generally a reaction to the other player’s movements or are they causing the other player to move?</td>
<td>What body parts are the connecting points between the two players? Note that connections can also exist without actual physical touch (tension).</td>
<td>List all body parts that are actively involved in interaction with the other player. Active means: - Causing the other to move - Used to initiate his/her own movements - Used by other in interaction. Note: exclude the parts used solely to interact with the chair and magazine.</td>
<td>Indicate how the energy develops in the interaction. Think specifically of movement and force. In drawing the line, take into account aspects like increase or decrease on the whole, smoothness or sharpness of changes, and regularity or irregularity.</td>
<td>Write a comment when you think an additional aspect of movement needs to be included. Or write any other remark here.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
**Product**
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Quick/N/Sustained/Alt (Time)</th>
<th>N = Neutral</th>
<th>Alt = Alternating: use when both qualities occur approx. an equal number of times, else make a choice.</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Strong/N/Light/Alt (Weight)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Free/N/Bound/Alt (Flow)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Indirect/N/Direct/Alt (Space)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
**Body parts involved**
- Causing
- Reaction
- Alternating
- Light/Eyes/Head/Neck/Shoulder(s)/Chest/Upper Back/Arm(s)/Forearm(s)/Wrist(s)/Hand(s)/Finger(s)/Lower Back/Air/Abdomen/Waist/Leg(s)/Foot(Feet)
Multiple entries are possible.
**Comments**
Draw a line characterising the dynamic development of the interaction.
---
**Person**
Same options as 'Product', but applied to the person.
**Unity**
Same options as above, but applied to unified body.
Time: quick: urgent, quick, instantaneous, staccato sustained: leisurely, gradual, lingering, prolonging
Weight: strong: powerful, forceful, firm touch, impactful light: airy, delicate, fine touch, buoyant
Flow: free: outpouring, fluid, released, liquid bound: controlled, careful, contained, restrained
Space: indirect: multi-focused, flexible attention, all-around awareness, all-encompassing direct: single-focused, channelled, pinpointed, laser-like
---
**Figure 4. The interaction quality framework.**
and a physical movement session to get sensitive to movement qualities. As such, the activity of rating involved a rich set of human skills (principle 4). The social context (principle 2), which was the simulated living room, was kept constant for experimental reasons.
**Step 3. Implementing Dynamic Form in Experiential Prototypes**
In this step, we explored how to implement dynamic form criteria in the designs. Two intelligent reading lamps were designed with advanced sensing and actuating capabilities so that they had the ability to portray all three behaviors created by the dancers. The lamps were called ‘AEI’, designed by the first author, and ‘Luxger’ designed by Industrial Design bachelor student Rutger Menges. Figure 5 shows the final prototypes of both lamp designs. The lamps are research prototypes, used for testing our design approach and philosophy. They look like actual products, but are not explicitly designed for everyday use in a home. In the current paper, we only discuss the AEI lamp.
**Main Steps in This Process**
To account for the four principles of Aesthetic Interaction, we approached design for behavior by iteratively creating, experiencing and refining interactive prototypes in a context that resembled the targeted context. As in the dancer experiment, all aspects of Aesthetic Interaction (involvement of the whole human being, dynamic form, social implications, instrumentality) remained infused throughout the unfolding design process. Here, we can only give a very brief account of the design process, which roughly consisted of three steps:
- Creating and evaluating a ‘lo-fi’ experiential prototype
- Final body and sensory-motor system design
- Implementation of dynamic form criteria in behavior design.
**Figure 5. AEI lamp (left) and Luxger (right).**
Figure 6. Left two pictures: This first lo-fi prototype of the lamp consisted of a glass vase turned upside down, equipped with touch sensors, distance sensors and LEDs. The bottom of this prototype, the reservoir of light fluid, contained LEDs that subtly faded in and out. This dynamic pattern suggested breathing, which in turn suggested life. Stroking the glass upwards or downwards moved the light fluid up or down. With the horizontal row of LEDs on top, the lamp was able to direct light to a piece of reading material in its vicinity. A set of try-out behaviors was implemented with this lamp and evaluated in an expert review in a living room lab context. Right picture: This picture shows an evaluation of the desired physical lamp form, using a cardboard model. This evaluation was also done in a living room lab context.
**Figure 6. Left two pictures: This first lo-fi prototype of the lamp consisted of a glass vase turned upside down, equipped with touch sensors, distance sensors and LEDs. The bottom of this prototype, the reservoir of light fluid, contained LEDs that subtly faded in and out. This dynamic pattern suggested breathing, which in turn suggested life. Stroking the glass upwards or downwards moved the light fluid up or down. With the horizontal row of LEDs on top, the lamp was able to direct light to a piece of reading material in its vicinity. A set of try-out behaviors was implemented with this lamp and evaluated in an expert review in a living room lab context. Right picture: This picture shows an evaluation of the desired physical lamp form, using a cardboard model. This evaluation was also done in a living room lab context.**
**Figure 7. Left picture: Consecutive stages of the final lamp body design.** The lamp body developed into an organic physical shape to invite and suit hand gestures on its surface. Much attention was given to the definition of the shape and its material. Right picture: The lamp body with its sensory-motor system. Its form was designed to be neutral, but versatile enough to be able to portray all three behaviors specified in the criteria. A touch sensitive area and a Power LED matrix were implemented at the back and front of the lamp respectively. The lamp also had a camera that allowed it to detect the position of nearby reading material.
The concept for the intelligent reading lamp was that of a glass container holding a ‘living light liquid’. When the container is touched by a hand, the liquid moves towards the hand and sticks to that location. It radiates light beams perpendicular to the hand. By moving the hand over the container, the light from the liquid can be directed onto an object such as a book. The light liquid can also move pro-actively, choosing to direct its light onto objects in its vicinity. Figures 6 and 7 show the first two phases of the design process, i.e., creating and evaluating the lo-fi experiential prototype and the product body design.
Implementation of Dynamic Form Criteria in Behavior Design
At this point, the lamp had its final body with its sensing and actuator capabilities and some basic software functionalities. The next step was to design and detail the behaviors specified in the dynamic form design criteria. In light of our ‘Aesthetic Interaction through Aesthetic Interaction’ design approach, we aimed to involve actual experience of interaction as much as possible throughout this step. The following discusses the design process of the Helpfulness behavior to illustrate characteristics of such a behavioral design process. Ross (2008) gives a more detailed description of the design process of this and other behaviors.
Designing the Behavior Targeting Helpfulness
We start with a description of the resulting behavior. The sequence of images in Figure 8 shows the AEI lamp’s behavior in interaction. To view the movie, please visit www.idemployee.id.tue.nl/p.r.ross/thesis. The lamp asks for help by showing the intention to light the person’s reading material, although it cannot do so without a little push upwards from the person. The light spreads from the bottom part of the lamp and jumps up at regular intervals when a person approaches it (phrase 1 and 2). But it cannot reach the top part of the lamp, where it needs to be to light the person’s reading material. On receipt of a little push upwards from the person, it eagerly follows the person’s reading material (phrase 3 and 4). After a while it grows tired, falls downwards again (phrase 5) and asks again for a little help to get back up (phrase 6 to 8).
An important characteristic of the design process was the close relation between designing for dynamic form, the actual implementation using the sensory-motor system of the lamp (programming its behavior) and the social implications of the behaviors. We illustrate these relations by means of a detailed example. One of the dynamic form criteria was ‘Free Flow’, from the ‘Interaction Effort’ column in the Interaction Quality Framework, which suggested that the movements should have a fluid, outpouring character (contrasting with a fully controlled and restrained movement). The idea came up to implement this quality through a social scenario in which the light spot would eagerly try to follow a person’s reading material, but it would grow tired after a while and fall downwards. Falling has a Free Flow Effort quality. To implement the quality Free Flow in this movement, the first author programmed the laws of gravity into the light spot behavior. When experiencing this gravity behavior, it turned out that the movement looked too much like a deliberate downwards movement. This gave the wrong impression in social terms; it did
not seem to require help. To fix this, the gravity constant in the software was decreased, which made the falling effect slower and therefore stronger. Experiencing this revised behavior inspired the idea to create the jumping behaviors described in phrase 2 of Figure 8.
This specific example shows how we moved from dynamic form (Free Flow) to an idea about social behavior (falling down out of tiredness). A sensory-motor system implementation was done first (modeling and programming the gravity). Trying this out allowed the authors to evaluate the behavior in terms of its social implications (did the movement seem intentional or not?). The experience of the behavior urged the first author to go back to the sensory-motor implementation to tweak the constants in the model.
**Reflection on the Behavior Design Process in Terms of Aesthetic Interaction Principles**
This design exercise taught us the extent of mutual dependence between the dynamic form level (principle 3), the Sensory-Motor Implementation level (bodily skills from principle 4) and the Social Implications level (principle 1 and 2). Continuous switching between these aspects of design characterized the process. Figure 9 providing a schematic representation of this. Iteratively experiencing implementation was an essential part of the process. This allowed the evaluation of design decisions made on one level from the perspective of the other levels. Furthermore, experiencing an implementation also brought new ideas, e.g., playing around with the light spot in the gravity mode inspired the ‘jumping behaviors’ in the lamp.
Reflecting on the resulting design, we see that its interaction indeed richly capitalizes on human skills. For example, the lamp involves our bodily skills much more than traditional lamps and it asks for social sensitivity throughout the interaction. Furthermore, a rating experiment on the lamp behaviors showed that the dynamic form criteria were implemented well in the behaviors, which means the Interaction Quality Framework offers a useable form language for designers of behavior. In a lab evaluation experiment, the lamp’s behavior turned out to influence interaction in social terms, but a ‘causal’ relation between dynamic form and values could not be quantitatively affirmed. We think that finding this relation requires long-term studies in a person’s real-life context, rather than a lab context. More importantly, we can see that the design approach based on the four principles of Aesthetic Interaction resulted in innovative ‘behaving’ designs that invited interactions embodying these four principles.
**General Conclusions**
In this final section, we briefly summarize our theoretical and design approach, we reflect on the design approach and resulting designs, and translate our findings into practical recommendations for designing behavior.
**Summary**
At the outset of this paper, we identified two challenges for the design of intelligent products and systems: the challenge of dynamic form and a challenge of social implications. To cope with these challenges, we formulated a conception of aesthetics specifically for intelligent product design based on Pragmatist philosophy. Aesthetic Interaction principle 1 indicates that aesthetics in interaction has practical use next to being intrinsically rewarding. Principle 2 stresses the need to incorporate social and ethical implications. Principle 3 identifies the role of satisfying dynamic form. Principle 4 argues for designing for the whole human being. We devised a design approach based on these four principles. We named it Designing for Aesthetic Interaction through Aesthetic Interaction because the process leading towards the desired interaction design shares many characteristics with the desired interaction design itself. In the current paper, we focused on designing the dynamic form of product behavior.
We have presented a case study about designing the behavior of intelligent lamps to show a possible way to design behavior through Aesthetic Interaction. The case study consisted of three steps. Step 1 created behaviors through acting out choreographies. This step formulated a social goal, in this case inviting value related behaviors in interaction. Dancers created and acted out choreographies, aiming to prompt specific, value related behaviors from participants. In step 2, a language of dynamic form was developed and the choreographies were described using that form language. This made it possible to ‘abstract’ the dancers’ behavior to enable its translation into the behavior of intelligent lamps with their totally different body. This occurred in Step 3, encompassing the building and evaluation of experiential prototypes of intelligent lamps.
**Reflection on the Design Approach**
Throughout the paper, we have reflected on how the activities in the separate steps related to the four principles. Each step presented a different way to turn the four principles of Aesthetic Interaction into practice, but each step shared the use of aesthetic experience as a design mechanism. Design for Aesthetic Interaction, with its bodily, cognitive, emotional, social and dynamic form implications, involves taking design decisions on each of these levels. The place where all these levels come together is in the
actual experience of interaction, which is why we ensured that experience was present as much as possible throughout the design process. In our case, even in the very beginning of the process, design was done through aesthetic experience and sensitivity by means of choreographies. In the design of the lamp’s behavior, experience was a guiding principle from the beginning (lo-fi prototypes) to the end (final lamp body and behavior design). The experience of people other than the designers was present throughout the process. Each step was evaluated by having participants experience and reflect on actual interactions.
In our case study, dynamic form had a prominent role, even being used as the main criterion for designing behavior. The goal of the interactions was stated in terms of social implications, i.e., values. We could have also used the social strategies of the dancers as criterion. For example, we could have used a criterion such as ‘my lamp has to invite powerful behaviors by taking on a serving attitude.’ The reason we gave dynamic form such a prominent role was that a good form language for designing product behavior was not yet developed and we saw form as essential to any kind of design. This prominent role gave us the opportunity to research the role of form in designing behavior in a focused way.
We believe that the designs resulting from this approach are innovative and invite interactions that feature many aspects of Aesthetic Interaction. We hypothesize that the design approach was instrumental in achieving this result. As in any design process, the techniques used influence the outcome. It is unlikely that we could have reached this kind of designs by using a traditional technique like sketching only.
Reflection on the Resulting Designs
The resulting designs of the case study are research prototypes, rather than products ready for the market. The designs proved their use as vehicles for exploring how to design behavior in Aesthetic Interaction, but may be less suitable for use in a real-life context. The lamps would certainly need to be adapted in another design iteration before being ready for real-life use. In light of a Knowledge Valorization program in the Netherlands (STW Valorisation Grant, 2010), we did such iteration on the AEI lamp. We took the ‘Social Power’ behavior and simplified it. With help of a market research bureau, we investigated market acceptance using an online survey with 500 participants in the Netherlands and Spain. First indications are that with adaptations, the lamp has potential in the market.
Our conclusion is that the presented design approach in this paper should not be seen as a finished design process in case designing products for the market is the goal, but it can be a useful part of a larger process of innovation.
Tips for Putting the Four Principles to Practice
We conclude with a set of practical recommendations for designing product behavior in Aesthetic Interaction, based on our theoretical framework and our case study.
• Use aesthetic experience as a design mechanism: Try to get as close to the desired aesthetic experience as possible, from the very beginning to the very end of the design process.
Behavior in interaction with its dynamic form is too rich and dynamic to design on non-interactive media like paper, or even on-screen simulations. Experiencing real interactions opens up the full richness of such real interactions. Such holistic experience provides the possibility to reflect on all levels of the design challenge. Furthermore, it is motivating to have the rewarding aesthetic experiences throughout the design process.
• Work in the social context: Work in context throughout the design process to get a feel for the social implications of your design already at an early stage. In our case study, we took only a limited part of the social context into account and simplified it for experimental reasons. Our second principle of Aesthetic Interaction shows that the scope of social context can be much broader, including, for example, people’s history, real life situations and personality.
• Make dynamic form explicit: The dynamic form component in the design of interactive ‘behaving’ products is often overlooked. Design has a strong history of traditional, static form languages, but designing the dynamics of behavior is new. A traditional form language offers a way to make specific qualities of a design explicit. It helps analyze existing designs in terms of form, increases sensitivity to these qualities and in that way also helps in the synthesis of new designs. A dynamic form language applies to product behavior and helps analysis and synthesis in similar ways to a traditional form language.
• Involve the whole human being throughout the design process: There appears to be symmetry between the skills that are put into the design process and the way the resulting design involves skills in interaction. In our process, we tried to infuse all four categories of human skills in the design process from the beginning onwards. At the outset, we asked dancers to input their bodily and improvisational skills into our design process. As a result, the dancers managed to create interactions that involved the skills of the participants they interacted with in a way that fitted the design goals. In the prototyping phase of the case study, skills were used in a different way. Nevertheless, sensitivity to bodily, emotional, social and cognitive aspects was essential to evaluate and develop the prototypes. In short, designing for skills requires skills. So infuse the design process with skills.
Acknowledgements
We would like to thank Sietse Klooster for her help setting up the dancer experiment and prof.dr.ir. Loe Feijs for his involvement in this research. Thanks also to the reviewers and editors for their constructive feedback.
References |
Architectural Guidelines - Vision
SECTION 1 – Design Principles
1.1 Promote Intellectual and Social Interaction
1.1.1 Purpose
1.1.2 Outdoor Space
1.1.3 Indoor Space
1.1.4 Pedestrian Campus
1.2 Respect Cultural and Historic Resources
1.2.1 History and Culture
1.2.2 New and Old
1.2.3 Rural and Urban
1.2.4 Intended Aesthetic
1.3 Value Sustainable Design
1.3.1 Life and Living
1.3.2 Past, Present and Future
1.3.3 Stewardship
SECTION 2 – Design Guidelines
2.1 Introduction
2.2 Landscape
2.3 Landform and Elements
2.4 Landscape Character and Trees
2.5 Trees and Space
2.6 Trees and Development
2.7 Trees and More Trees
2.8 Landscape Character and Open Space
2.9 Space and Development
2.10 Space and Associations
2.11 Space and Infill
2.12 Space and Well-Being
2.13 Plant Life and Well-Being
2.14 Plant Life and Scale
2.15 Circulation
2.16 Car Circulation and Entry
2.17 Approach, Entry and Threshold
2.18 Car Parks and Structures
2.19 Pedestrian Circulation
2.20 Walking and Beauty
2.21 Walking, Campus Fabric and Interaction
2.22 Walkways and Courts
2.23 Walkways and Gardens
2.24 Walkways and Safety
2.25 Signage
2.26 Outdoor Signs
2.27 Campus Architectural Style
2.28 Architecture
2.29 A Pragmatic Architecture
2.30 Commodity – Utility
2.31 Campus Architecture and Interaction
2.32 Campus Architecture and User Needs
2.33 Campus Architecture and Sustainability
2.34 Firmness – Durability
2.35 Architecture at a Scientific Institution
2.36 Measuring Firmness
2.37 Delight – Beauty
2.38 The Means to Delight in Architecture
2.39 Architecture and the Individual
2.40 Honest Architecture
2.41 Relationship of Architecture to the Natural Environment
2.42 Public Art
2.43 Landscape, Art, Buildings
2.44 Art and Interaction
2.45 The Place of Art
2.46 Art and Memorials
SECTION 3 – Planning Standards
3.1 Introduction
3.2 Site Development Goals
3.3 Open Spaces
3.4 Bikeways
3.5 Pedestrian Walkways
3.6 Public Transit and Recreational Trails
SECTION 4 – Campus Standards
4.1 Campus Standards for Buildings and Structures
4.1.1 Building Uses
4.1.2 Building Heights
4.1.3 Building Siting and Setbacks
4.1.4 Exterior Walls and Facades
4.1.5 Roofs and Roof Surfaces (Excluding Parking Structures)
4.1.6 Parking Structures
4.2 Campus Standards for Site Development
4.2.1 Grading and Drainage
4.2.2 Dedicated Roadways
4.2.3 Non-Dedicated Roadways
4.2.4 Walkways and Bikeways
4.2.5 Surface Parking
4.2.6 Utilities
4.2.7 Walls and Fences
4.2.8 Trash Areas and Service Yards
4.2.9 Signage
4.2.10 Exterior Lighting
4.3 Campus Standards for Landscaping
4.3.1 Landscape Improvements (Percentage)
4.3.2 Cluster Type
4.3.2.1 Park Landscaping
4.3.2.2 Greenway Landscaping
4.3.2.3 Garden Landscaping
4.3.2.4 Plaza Landscaping
4.3.2.5 Buffer Landscaping
4.3.2.6 Woodland Landscaping
4.3.3 Landscape Improvements (Plans Submitted)
4.3.3.1 Sedimentation and Erosion Control
4.3.3.2 Irrigation Systems
4.3.3.3 Maintenance Program
Architectural Guidelines - Vision
Prior to initiating the conceptual planning process for the new Clemson University International Center for Automotive Research (CU-ICAR) Campus, the underlying guiding principles were established.
These principles are listed as follows:
- Develop a Sustainable Environment
- Follow the existing Clemson Campus Model
Principles to FOLLOW based on the existing Campus model:
- Overall Density
- Landscape character
- Rolling hills, contours, topography
- Creation of Outdoor Rooms
- Priority of People first rather than cars
- “A Sense of Place”
- A destination
- From I-85 see people and activity
- Encourage Interaction - exterior and interior
- “Cluster” – Collaboration
- Connectivity - intellectually and recreationally
- Garden atmosphere
- Entry/Middle/Center Edge
- Vitality 24 hours/day, 7 days/week
- A Campus / not a Research Park
- International Image and Substance
- Commuter focus, not residential
- Integration of High Performance with Consumer Research
Principles to IMPROVE:
- Infrastructure
- Consistency of Architectural Image
- Separation of Service/Trucks/Waste
- Parking density - up rather than out
All landscape and facility development on the CU-ICAR Campus will satisfy the design criteria that were originally stated by Marcus Vitruvius Pollio in his *De architectura* written in the first century BC. In Sir Henry Wotton’s 1624 rendition of Vitruvius’s maxim, the first of these criteria is commodity or utility, the second is firmness or durability, and the third is delight or beauty. The University’s overarching Design Principles should be applied through the execution of projects that exhibit these qualities.
SECTION 1 – DESIGN PRINCIPLES
1.1 Promote Intellectual & Social Interaction
1.1.1 Purpose
The purpose of the CU-ICAR Campus, as the physical manifestation of the idea of a university, is to bring together a diverse group of people by providing settings that foster learning, creativity, collegiality, and intellectual growth – consistent with the charge if its founder, Thomas Green Clemson, that Clemson be “a high seminary of learning”. The principle of promoting interaction extends beyond the development of appropriate classrooms, courtyards, or quads, to the purposeful creation of many different types of spaces strategically planned, placed, and furnished to encourage informal dialogue in teacher-to-teacher, student-to-teacher, and student-to-student situations. There are three major Campus components the principle applies to – outdoor space and indoor space woven together by a pedestrian Campus – each of which has a distinct role.
1.1.2 Outdoor Space
Open space should support a sense of community, by providing many types and sizes of outdoor meeting and recreation areas. In addition, open space should be designed and maintained to unify the Campus by connecting diverse site and building elements together as an attractive whole. Further, each outdoor space, large or small, should be seen as a garden to cultivate the minds of the Campus users.
1.1.3 Indoor Space
Where outdoor space is common to all Campus constituents, individuals occupy indoor space. The building walls mitigate between the two environments. In buildings, opportunities for the exchange of ideas should also be maximized. As with outdoor space, many types and sizes of indoor meeting spaces should be provided for both planned and unplanned interaction. The amount of public space in buildings should be sufficiently generous to allow for this interaction to occur.
1.1.4 Pedestrian Campus
Fundamental to the idea of social interaction is the notion of a pedestrian Campus. Only when people are outside of their cars do they have an opportunity to engage in the Campus environment and community in a meaningful way. Through its design, the Campus should encourage the individual to walk from place to place, experiencing things such as art and artifacts, and engaging in conversations with people along the way.
1.2 Respect Cultural & Historic Resources
1.2.1 History and Culture
In order to meet Thomas Green Clemson’s charge to be a “high seminary of learning”, Clemson University has been a science and service oriented institution. The culture that has evolved from this pragmatic worldview is one that cultivates talents in a wide range of disciplines. These traditional values and beliefs contribute to Clemson’s sense of place and should be applied to CU-ICAR.
1.2.2 New and Old
Campus architecture and landscapes communicate something important about the issues and priorities of the present generation. New buildings, modifications to existing facilities, and even minor changes to a Campus will respect the legacy that will be left to future generations. The quality of the built environment is key to the distinctiveness, long-term viability, and image of the University.
1.2.3 Rural and Urban
Significantly, another cultural resource is the Campus, considered as a whole. The Campus is a representation of the past and the future, the rural and the urban. These contrasting qualities will be used to contribute to the unity of the Campus.
1.2.4 Intended Aesthetic
Despite the mix of past and future, rural and urban that exists on the Main Campus, CU-ICAR should maintain an intended aesthetic in an on-going effort to preserve continuity and enhance coherence and relevance. At CU-ICAR, these seemingly opposite characteristics should bring life and excitement to the Campus. Clemson University and other participants will protect and enhance this unity while allowing for diversity, developing a reasoned consistency within districts, and encouraging creativity for a single project.
1.3 Value Sustainable Design
1.3.1 Life and Living
The responsible use of all forms of energy and the good health of the community are high priorities of CU-ICAR. Energy consumption and the “ecological footprint” of the CU-ICAR Campus will be reduced while the productivity and health of the community will be improved. Balanced with other priorities, sustainable principles that promote these objectives will be incorporated into all building and infrastructure projects to the fullest extent possible in an effort to create environmentally responsive facilities.
1.3.2 Past, Present and Future
Clemson University is an institution entrusted to the present generation. The natural and built environments of the Campus and other properties should be cared for, developed and administered in such a way that they are protected, utilized appropriately, and positively changed for future generations. Through all efforts, vigilance will be applied to ensure that planning, design and construction are targeting efficient use of resources, and that careful and responsible actions are taken to ensure that resources are utilized in the best possible way while achieving the other primary principles of design.
1.3.3 Stewardship
Stewardship is the concept of responsibly managing all resources for the benefit of present and future generations of people, plants and animals. Objectives in the stewardship of resources will include such goals as:
- Manage resources in a manner that is fiscally responsible.
- Manage resources in a manner that is compliant with the rules and regulations established by society.
- Manage resources in a manner that provides the facilities necessary for CU-ICAR to perform its missions of education, research and service in order to better society.
SECTION 2 – DESIGN GUIDELINES
2.1 Introduction
The Design Principles – based on interaction, culture and history, and sustainability – provide a working framework to guide the development of the CU-ICAR Campus. The Design Guidelines provide planning and design guidance for all landscape and building projects. The primary audiences are those involved in the planning and design of such projects that include university user groups and design consultants to CU-ICAR.
These guidelines apply a philosophy that does not intend to be so constraining as to inhibit creativity. Rather the opposite, their intention is to provide design parameters in which creativity can flourish and still maintain overall Campus planning objectives that reflect both broad philosophic principles and specific standards.
2.2 Landscape
Across the United States and around the world the mention of South Carolina stimulates images of the southern landscape.
2.3 Landform and Elements
The land selected for the CU-ICAR Campus, a rolling, hilly topography, plays a vital role in creating interest. The buildings themselves should be very handsome structures. The buildings also will perform the valuable function of creating meaningful open space by their form and siting. Some elements of the landscape such as plazas, fountains and public art will contribute to this beauty. The arrangement of elements on the land will add to the overall aesthetic quality by creating vistas, framing views, or providing visual termini.
2.4 Landscape Character and Trees
New trees will be planted on a regular basis and significant existing trees and quality woodland will be protected as important natural and cultural resources. Efforts will be made through planning, design, construction, and maintenance processes to ensure that these trees are protected and remain a viable, valuable part of the CU-ICAR Campus. These efforts will include the designation for preservation of mature hardwoods.
2.5 Trees and Space
The most important resource that contributes to the beauty of a Campus setting are large, grand trees. The Campus will consist of a series of spaces that connect buildings and knit together often-diverse functions. Some of these spaces will have the character of a garden. However, the common thread that will run through the new landscape is the ubiquitous presence of trees. The tree canopy is the single defining element that will make the CU-ICAR Campus memorable and beautiful. The trees will shape and reinforce the Campus character.
2.6 Trees and Development
As development on the Campus matures, compaction of the root zone and loss of structural roots may place more pressure on existing trees. For this reason, the planners of projects should carefully consider the impact on existing trees, and the enhancement of the project through the planting of new trees.
2.7 Trees and More Trees
As older trees become less viable and are lost to disease or other causes, there will be a very active tree maintenance and replacement program. The care and protection of trees will be a very high priority for the University. The preservation, protection, and ongoing health of existing trees will never be made a second priority. In addition, the replacement of trees that are either removed or near the end of their life span will be an ongoing program.
2.8 Landscape Character & Open Space
Although the center of the Campus will increase in density, the dedicated open space of the Campus will be protected from development and will be preserved or enhanced as appropriate.
2.9 Space & Development
Open space preservation is a very important component of any responsible development or land use strategy. Depending on scale, open space provides several benefits, which may include enhanced water and air quality, improved habitat, decreased storm water run-off and the desirable aesthetics of natural surroundings.
2.10 Space and Associations
There are many areas of landscape that are not readily associated with a particular building or function. These are general open spaces that, in fact, may be the most important landscapes on the Campus. These are the areas that weave the fabric of a Campus together, making it a memorable place. These are the areas that are essential to setting the Campus comfortably into its environs. These spaces have great value and should be carefully planned.
2.11 Space and Infill
Ironically, these are the areas that are usually under the most pressure of becoming future building sites. As the Campus grows, it could either take up additional land by spreading out and expanding or by seeking areas within the core that can be filled in by new structures. Open space needs to be protected from haphazard infringement and degradation and a balance between expansion and in-fill should be achieved.
2.12 Space and Well-Being
Planned open space corridors are vital to the health, function and beauty of the environment. As an example, on the Main Campus the area known as the Campus Green, the area which links Bowman Field to the Madren Center is vitally important to the physical organization of the Campus and is essential in maintaining the character of the Campus landscape.
2.13 Plant Life and Well-Being
The appropriate use of vegetation in the built environment is a major influence on the quality of human life. Shrubs, herbaceous plant material, and trees filter pollutants in the air and water, mitigate wind and solar heat gain, stabilize soil to prevent or reduce erosion, and provide an aesthetic counterpoint to the built environment. These attributes are essential to balancing the effects of humans on the land. Furthermore, the native plants of a region provide some of the strongest clues to the unique identity of a place. In turn the creation of a
healthy growing environment for the plants requires the collaboration of arborists, horticulturists, landscape architects, and native plant biologists.
2.14 Plant Life and Scale
The various landscapes are important in maintaining the human scale of the Campus. Planting design will be within the concept of reasoned consistency and will reflect the nature of the place, the requirements of maintenance, and the intended aesthetic of the Campus. Plantings will always be designed in the context of the greater Campus. Continuity in plant selection and arrangement is integral to unifying the Campus landscape.
2.15 Circulation
The image of the Campus depends on legibility and clarity from multiple vantage points in motion, at various speeds. The range is from a walking pace of three miles per hour to a driving rate of thirty-five miles per hour. The pedestrian and vehicular systems will be designed to reflect this.
2.16 Car Circulation and Entry
All planning and design for facilities near the periphery of Campus will consider the impact of the project on the Campus gateways. The Campus road system will provide for the safe and efficient movement and parking of automobiles, and, at the same time, promote the pedestrian nature of the place.
2.17 Approach, Entry and Threshold
The approaches to the Campus are very important in that they set the tone for what is expected and indicate points of orientation for the visitor. The approaches and entrances will be gateways, not necessarily in the literal sense, but definitely in the figurative sense. There will be no ambiguity as to when one enters the CU-ICAR Campus.
2.18 Car Parks and Structures
Due to the CU-ICAR Campus being principally a commuter campus, parking areas and structures will need to be carefully placed in order to allow convenient access to the buildings; but also, minimizing pedestrian/vehicular conflicts, and visibility from major roadways.
2.19 Pedestrian Circulation
Pedestrians’ needs are of the highest priority and take precedence over the demands of the motorist. All planning, design and development will support this priority while meeting the basic needs of emergency service, maintenance services, disabled individuals, and mass transit.
2.20 Walking & Beauty
The CU-ICAR Campus will be beautiful and enjoyable to walk. The topography of the Campus provides interest and the many large trees provide shaded walks throughout much of the area. Adding further to the experience will be the diversity of walkways, ranging from sidewalks on busy streets to garden paths. Walking also promotes physical well-being and, with adequate lighting and safety measures, can be pleasurable both day and night.
2.21 Walking, Campus Fabric, and Interaction
The pedestrian circulation systems will link the various facilities and open spaces together into a cohesive fabric for the Campus community. It is also where meaningful interaction between members of the CU-ICAR community will occur. The essential components of the pedestrian circulation system will consist of major walkways, minor walkways and plazas. The major walks within the pedestrian circulation systems will comprise the mainstream of Campus pedestrian traffic. These walks will afford the most direct line to the major buildings and building groups. Secondary to the major walks will be the system of minor walks, which serves each building on the Campus. Minor walks will be scaled to the function and character of the buildings they serve and to the open spaces they traverse.
2.22 Walkways and Courts
The plaza, as a defined space, is an opening or gathering place and special feature in the circulation system. It is an essential element in providing focus and meeting opportunities on longer walkways and a means for collecting and distributing pedestrians.
2.23 Walkways and Gardens
If we are to think of the Campus as a garden, then these pedestrian sidewalks are the garden paths. They will be places of beauty, and elements of visual interest, such as specimen plantings or sculpture, will be found along the way. Also, there will be numerous opportunities to stop and sit along the paths. If the CU-ICAR Campus is to become a truly pedestrian-friendly environment, then the pedestrian areas should be comfortable, functional, and beautiful.
2.24 Walkways and Safety
Vehicular circulation will be clearly discernable, in terms of the hierarchy of various streets and drives, as well as being safe and attractive. Care will be taken to minimize possible conflicts between automobiles and pedestrians using well-marked crosswalks and curb ramps at all intersections. Also, transit stops will be safe and conveniently located.
2.25 Signage
The clarity of CU-ICAR’s image will be enhanced by both the outdoor and indoor signage systems. The public’s impression of the University is a reflection of the quality of design, coherency, and consistency of these important systems.
2.26 Outdoor Signs
The information system on a Campus reflects the image of the institution. The design, readability and consistent placement of signage on the CU-ICAR Campus are necessary factors that help people find where they need to go in an efficient and pleasant way and thus create a positive image of the Campus.
2.27 Campus Architectural Style
The architecture for the CU-ICAR Campus should observe a consistency of form and materials and contribute the cohesiveness of the built environment. To promote such consistency and ensure continuity over time, all building projects shall be guided by the design principles espoused by the International Style.
International Style, in architecture, the phrase of modern movement emerged in Europe and the United States during the 1920’s. The term was first used in connection with a 1932 architectural exhibition held at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. Architects working in the International Style gave new emphasis to the expression of structure, the lighting of mass, and the enclosure of dynamic spaces.
The ideology for the International Style of architecture celebrates technology, modernist, anti-historicist, anti-ornament, functionalist and exclusivist.
The chief characteristics of the International Style are smooth untextured surfaces, asymmetrical composition, solid plane, flat roofs, large glass bands and metal panels. Horizontality was also a characteristic, particularly on commercial buildings where alternate bands of glass and metal panels created a solid plane and horizontal effect. Also, the style emphasizes a lack of color, contrasting black and white.
“Technology is far more than a method; it is a world in itself. As a method it is superior in almost every respect...whenever technology reaches its full fulfillment, it transcends into architecture. It is true that architecture depends on facts, but its real field of activity is in the realm of significance.” ~ Mies van der Rohe
2.28 Architecture
Architecture is the background to purposeful and beautiful outdoor space as well as the background to the surrounding landform and landscape. As the container of space, architecture should be useful and flexible and appropriately accommodate the assigned learning, living, and teaching activities that occur within. At the same time, architecture should instill in its users a high sense of pleasure.
2.29 A Pragmatic Architecture
Campus architecture will reflect the pragmatic culture of the CU-ICAR Campus.
Clemson University was established as a scientific institution for the purpose of serving the region with the development of useful solutions to its most critical needs. This scientific, service-oriented purpose has given rise to a pragmatic Clemson culture; and consequently to the expectation of architecture that is both practical and sincere, demonstrating commodity, firmness and delight. This culture will be reflected in the architectural styles seen on the CU-ICAR Campus.
2.30 Commodity – Utility
Campus architecture will be designed and maintained to advance the design principle promoting social and intellectual interaction.
2.31 Campus Architecture and Interaction
At CU-ICAR, part of a building’s purpose is to create an environment that promotes intellectual and social interaction. Buildings may provide informal learning spaces that encourage interaction among users. If possible, these spaces should be located near high traffic areas such as lobbies; toilets; stairs; elevators; copying and vending areas. If feasible, buildings should provide corridors wide enough for people to stand and talk comfortably without interrupting normal pedestrian circulation; stairs spacious enough to encourage conversation; kitchenettes adjacent to assembly areas; and furnishings designed and arranged to promote discussion.
2.32 Campus Architecture and User Needs
Another of the purposes of architecture at CU-ICAR is to accomplish specific practical objectives. Buildings will be composed of spaces that are sized and arranged from a thoughtfully considered space plan, in turn based on a thorough analysis of user requirements. Each building will provide for the physical and psychological needs of its users so that the fundamental purposes for occupying the building are maximized. This includes such provisions as appropriate for thermal comfort, indoor air quality, and access to daylight and views that support the productivity, health and performance of building occupants. In addition, because programs change over time, buildings should be flexible.
2.33 Campus Architecture and Sustainability
Campus architecture will be consistent with Clemson University’s commitment to optimize energy usage, protect air and water resources of the general environment, and conserve materials and resources associated with the construction of buildings.
2.34 Firmness – Durability
Buildings will be solid, stable and strong – both physically and visually – yet allow for flexibility and change.
2.35 Architecture at a Scientific Institution
In every aspect, architecture is held in check by the laws of physical science. All architecture components are subject to the laws of statics and dynamics. In a scientific institution, these components should have successfully passed the tests of scientific experimentation. The architecture of a scientific campus should include materials that are the logical expression of material properties and laws. The systems and materials will be durable -- having demonstrated longevity and permanence -- and consequently capable of creating a secure sense of place for campus inhabitants.
2.36 Measuring Firmness
Firmness necessitates that buildings and their components, when put in use, will endure without significant failure over the long term. The primary tool for measuring firmness is life cycle costing – an economic assessment of competing design alternatives, considering all significant costs of ownership over the economic life of each alternative. To be most effective, the structural frame will be designed to allow for changes in space configurations and adaptations of systems over time.
2.37 Delight – Beauty
Campus architecture will be beautiful and provide delight.
2.38 The Means to Delight in Architecture
The buildings of the University will be beautiful and provide delight. This delight may be derived from successfully achieving “utility”. A pragmatic worldview associates beauty with utility. If a building successfully fulfills the principles and other design guidelines of the University, in a certain sense, it will be beautiful. In addition, a building may provide delight because it successfully embodies “firmness”. Or, the means of providing delight may be independent of both “utility” and “firmness”. Nevertheless, architecture should provide intellectual and spiritual satisfaction; it should provide pleasure; it must provide delight.
2.39 Architecture and the Individual
University buildings should be concerned with the welfare and dignity of each individual in the CU-ICAR community. The buildings will be pleasant for both their users and for those on Campus that experience them only from the outside. Buildings will be welcoming, with clearly defined entrances, and achieve a symbiotic relationship between the indoors and the natural environment outdoors. Building exteriors will be pedestrian-friendly and scaled and related to the size of the human form.
2.40 Honest Architecture
The architecture will be reflective of the building’s use, integrating the interior and exterior for a unified building design.
2.41 Relationship of Architecture to the Natural Environment
Buildings will engage with the adjacent natural environment; capturing outdoor views for building occupants from regularly occupied areas such as classrooms, laboratories and offices. As much as practical, plan buildings to bring the natural environment into the building interior. Each building will be visually compatible with other buildings in its immediate context and with the Campus as a whole.
2.42 Public Art
The presence of art, in all forms, on the Campus is an extension of Clemson University’s values. Beauty is found not only in the creation of practical knowledge and tools for the betterment of humanity, it is also found in art which stimulates and provokes an intellectual or emotive response in the viewer. Developers should be encouraged to consider public art on their property.
2.43 Landscape, Art, Buildings
Public art will be a very important ingredient in the campus landscape of the CU-ICAR Campus. It is, indeed, essential to creating a campus that contributes to the educational process and to the intellectual and emotional enlightenment and development of its constituents. Exposure to art and appreciation of art is essential to the development of well rounded, educated individuals.
2.44 Art and Interaction
Public art and monuments promote social gathering and interaction and significantly contribute to place making. The piece of art itself automatically becomes an identifiable point, a landmark, in the campus environment and often becomes a place of gathering, identification, and orientation. Public art can reflect the history or culture of the place and serve as an intellectual and emotional stimulus. Art in the Campus setting exists mainly for the sake of the Campus community, providing another level of meaning in the landscape.
2.45 The Place of Art
Because of its importance in the life of the community, art should be thoughtfully executed and placed. Placement of each artwork or memorial should relate the work to its immediate surroundings, its context within the campus. Public art should not be placed where it impedes pedestrian movement. Public art should be vandal resistant and not require on-going, significant maintenance needs.
2.46 Art and Memorials
The greatest care should be taken in the design of public memorials -- sculptures, buildings, fountains, or other forms of commemoration. Unlike most of our built environment, commemorative works are kept in the public trust in perpetuity. Thus, their siting, design, and quality of materials should be given extremely careful consideration.
SECTION 3 – PLANNING STANDARDS
3.1 Introduction
The purpose of the Planning Standards is to provide information that will inform and guide the planning of facilities on the CU-ICAR Campus. This information will be used predominantly in the pre-design phase of the potential project. It will be used in evaluating potential sites for buildings, massing constraints, access, and impacts on parking. Parties involved in these planning efforts will use this information as a guide in the early planning stages.
3.2 Site Development Goals
The guiding principles have been incorporated into the Planning Standards and the Campus Standards for the CU-ICAR Campus. The pedestrian nature of the Main Campus will be followed in the development of the CU-ICAR Campus. Outreach to the community should be reinforced. This may be realized by making the Campus inviting and visitor access easy. Attractive landscaping and signage should further enhance the Campus. Sites for new buildings on the Campus will be carefully planned. When a new facility is designed, the building site should be selected to fit within the broad Campus design parameters.
3.3 Open Spaces
Dedicated open space (i.e. percentage of each building site designated for landscaping improvement) will be protected from all types of development. Open space areas that are environmentally sensitive, such as major drainage-ways, should also be protected from impact of development by vegetative buffers. Buffers along streams or creeks will be a minimum of 35 feet from the top of the bank. These buffers will be left natural where significant vegetation exists or planted with indigenous plant material to help prevent erosion.
3.4 Bikeways
Where dedicated bicycle paths are provided they will be designed with due consideration of safety issues, speed, sight lines, stopping distances, curve radii, intersection design, surfacing, and protection from hazards. The width and the clear height of bikeways must comply with Applicable Codes.
3.5 Pedestrian Walkways
The minimum width of pedestrian walkways within the Campus will be five (5’-0”) feet.
3.6 Public Transit and Recreational Trails
Use of public transportation should be considered in site planning and building design. Public transportation currently exists on the campus via the Greenlink and Tiger Transit bus systems. These key transportation elements provide connectivity to the City of Greenville, Greenville County, suburban municipality of Easley, and the main Clemson University campus in Clemson.
Greenville County is also developing the Swamp Rabbit recreational trail into the heart of the CU-ICAR campus. This walking and biking trail on an abandoned rail line will link CU-ICAR to downtown Greenville and northern areas of the county. In particular it will immediately link CU-ICAR to the extensive residential and commercial areas in the nearby Verdae Development. Eventually it is anticipated that the trail will provide a link to the cities of Mauldin and Simpsonville.
SECTION 4 – CAMPUS STANDARDS
Campus Standards serve to insure a sense of overall continuity and harmony, while still encouraging variety and expression within the overall campus. The following standards are meant to insure that there be a consistency to the CU-ICAR campus. These standards will serve as the guidelines and development requirements to be employed and enforced by the two (2) Design Review Committees (DRCs) for the CU-ICAR Campus in reviewing applications submitted by owners and developers pursuant to procedures established in the Declaration of Covenant, Conditions and Restrictions for the Campus.
4.1 Campus Standards for Buildings and Structures
The campus standards for buildings and structures will have a significant impact on the character and image of CU-ICAR. The following standards provide the overall framework for architects and engineers to create buildings and other structures, which will enhance the man-made environment without detracting from the unique natural qualities of this setting.
4.1.1 Building Uses
Building uses shall conform to requirements of the Code of Ordinances, City of Greenville, South Carolina, including Chapter 19 – Land Management, and to all other applicable laws, ordinances, and regulations (hereinafter referred to as “Applicable Codes”). Building uses shall also conform to the applicable provisions of the Declaration of Covenants, Conditions and Restrictions (CCRs) for the Clemson University International Center for Automotive Research, recorded in the Office of the Register of Deeds of Greenville County, South Carolina. In accordance with the Code of Ordinances, Chapter 19, requests for variances or adjustments from the requirements of the Code of Ordinances must be presented to the appropriate DRC, and approved by that Committee, before being submitted to the City of Greenville or the agency designated by the City of Greenville to process such applications.
4.1.2 Building Heights
Buildings heights shall be in accordance with Applicable Codes.
4.1.3 Building Siting and Setbacks
The siting of buildings shall be in accordance with the building setback and other requirements of Applicable Codes.
Buildings should be sited in a way that maximizes the opportunities for both building occupants and on-site pedestrians to view adjacent land and gardens.
4.1.4 Exterior Walls and Facades
The use of durable, long-lasting, low-maintenance materials is required for all exterior walls.
Large exterior wall surfaces should be broken up using vertical and/or horizontal articulation.
Accent colors may be used to highlight special architectural features, but the colors and the extent of coverage must be approved by the applicable DRC.
Exterior glass may be tinted for heat reduction but may not be reflective.
4.1.5 Roofs and Roof Surfaces (Excluding Parking Structures)
Flashing, sheet metal, vents and pipes should be finished to match or complement adjacent roof and building surfaces or screened from view.
Mechanical equipment may be placed on the roofs so long as they are screened from view by perimeter walls or designed to be an integral part of the building massing which often occurs in the International Style of Architecture.
Parking structures must also comply with all requirements of the Applicable Codes, including landscaping requirements where applicable.
4.1.6 Parking Structures
Parking structures should be compatible in design materials and colors with the buildings they are to serve.
Except where inconsistent with the architectural design of the building supported by a parking structure, landscaping will be incorporated into the design of parking structures. This may be accomplished through the integration of planters into the design of exterior wall openings, the incorporation of wall vine trellises into all vertical exterior members, or the placement of trees at the height and breadth to ultimately screen at least 50% of the ground level exterior elevations, planted no farther than the normal reach of the tree’s branches from the face of the structure.
4.2 Campus Standards for Site Development
Campus standards for site development are intended to minimize the impacts of development on areas not occupied by buildings and other major structures. They provide for consistency and compatibility in the design of vehicular and pedestrian circulation systems, parking, site grading, signage, drainage, visual screening, outdoor lighting and utilities. These Campus standards will serve as the guidelines and development requirements to be utilized and enforced by the DRCs for the two segments of the CU-ICAR Campus in reviewing applications submitted by owners and developers pursuant to the procedures established in the CCRs.
4.2.1 Grading and Drainage
Wherever possible, earthwork volumes should balance within a development parcel and grading should not adversely affect adjacent existing development or terrain. All on and off-site grading activities shall conform to Applicable Codes.
Slopes should not exceed 2 to 1 where planted with ground cover and 3 to 1 where planted with grass.
Surface runoff shall be retained and detained on site in accordance with the most recent drainage regulations. Retention/detention basins shall be designed to have a natural appearance rather than a man-made geometric form. They should be landscaped in accordance with the Campus Standards for Landscaping set forth herein, or hidden in the surrounding landscape. The use of crushed “Rip-Rap” should be avoided.
Drainage from large impervious surfaces (parking lots, plaza and walkways) should be allowed to sheet-flow into planted areas to maximize potential ground absorption rather than channeling the runoff into drainage ways.
For parking lots, which are used only for overflow parking or special events, the surfaces should be pervious, such as “grass-crete” or blocks with spacers, so as to allow water to drain directly into the subsoil.
4.2.2 Dedicated Roadways
All dedicated roadways must be designed and constructed in accordance with Applicable Codes, including regulations, requirements, and specifications required by the South Carolina Department of Transportation.
If a Property Owner supplements landscaping within a dedicated right of way, the types, sizes and spacing of all trees and other landscaping planted should be consistent with the types of landscaping planted by the City of Greenville or other public authorities within the dedicated rights of way.
4.2.3 Non-Dedicated Roadways
Internal roadways, including arterial roadways, collector roadways, and distributor roadways, shall comply with all requirements of the Applicable Codes.
4.2.4 Walkways and Bikeways
All pedestrian walkways between buildings and roads should be constructed of the same material (concrete, brick or concrete pavers). Asphalt walkways should not be permitted except as approved by the appropriate DRC. Nature trails should be constructed from materials which are more forgiving or even a softer surface depending on the conditions.
Where pedestrian walkways cross any roadways, the crossing should be highlighted through the use of one or more of the following techniques: special paving materials or road striping.
Bikeways will be aligned with roadways and walkways. Bikeways should be constructed of the same materials as the roadway or walkway to which they are adjacent.
Bike racks should be provided near at least one major entrance to all occupied structures, building complexes and outdoor recreational facilities.
4.2.5 Surface Parking
All surface parking areas must comply with Applicable Codes, including minimum requirement for onsite parking stalls and landscaping.
Whenever possible, parking aisles should be perpendicular to the building entry facades so that patrons do not need to walk between vehicles.
4.2.6 Utilities
All utilities including power and communication lines, sewer, water and irrigation pipes shall be placed underground.
Necessary ground level utility equipment (meters, check valves, transformers, substations, etc.) and mechanical equipment for buildings shall be screened by landscaping buffers, fences and/or walls which are compatible with adjacent structures and landscaping and which are in compliance with the Guidelines for Landscaping set forth herein.
4.2.7 Walls and Fences
Walls (other than retaining walls) should only be used to provide visual screening, security, privacy and/or sound attenuation.
Solid perimeter walls (within 20 feet of any property line) should not exceed 3’-6’ in height unless needed to screen some unsightly equipment or use.
The materials, colors and design of all walls should be similar or compatible with adjacent structures.
4.2.8 Trash Areas and Service Yards
A wall, landscaped buffer, or berm (or combination thereof) at least 5 feet high shall be required around all trash collection or service areas as seen from adjacent streets, buildings or publicly accessible spaces.
4.2.9 Signage
An overall signage plan shall be submitted for each development project for review by the appropriate DRC. All signs shall follow the requirements set forth in the Applicable Codes. All signs shall be consistent and compatible with signage plans previously approved and constructed in other areas of the Campus.
Ground signs and entry features to major development complexes must be compatible with the design, colors and materials contained in the developments’ buildings and landscaping. These signs/features may contain logos or insignias of the major users or tenants and should be located so as to clearly identify the development entry. No portion of the sign or feature should be higher than eight (8) feet above the surrounding grade (excluding berms) although a Campus entrance feature, a logo or other sculptural feature may exceed this height with prior approval of the applicable DRC.
As a general requirement for lighted signs, all free-standing signs should be illuminated with concealed ground-level spot lights, all wall signs should be back-lighted, and all marquee signs should be illuminated from within. No light sources should be visible from either outside or inside the buildings, and no flashing lights should be permitted. No neon tubing should be directly visible.
4.2.10 Exterior Lighting
Except where safety and security are required, emphasis in lighting should be on a “mood-setting” effect rather than on intensity of illumination.
Light sources should be recessed, screened or shielded to minimize glare and reflection, and no lighting shall adversely affect any adjacent areas.
Low incandescent or tungsten halogen lights are preferred, and fluorescent, mercury vapor or other “cool white” light sources should not be used for exterior lighting. LED lighting is allowed.
Roadways, parking areas and pathways will be lighted with fixtures that are in keeping with the overall project design. In general, non-dedicated roadways should be illuminated by 25-foot high light poles, and pathways, steps and landings, by bollards, garden path lights and/or 10 to 12 foot high overhead lights.
Landscape lighting will be used to accentuate major trees (up-lights), decorative flower and shrub groupings and visual focal elements as long as the light sources are recessed or screened and not directly attached to the plant material. Uplighting shall be in compliance with sustainable guidelines or municipal dark sky provisions.
4.3 Campus Standards for Landscaping
Landscape improvements, including the preservation of existing high quality trees, the creation of open spaces, and the planting of new materials, will be a primary focus of campus development plans to be reviewed by the DRC’s. Each building site developer will submit a detailed landscape improvement plan to the appropriate DRC. The landscape improvement plan will clearly identify areas for each landscape cluster type described below, including the estimated coverage area for each landscape cluster type. The plan will also include estimated costs associated with landscape improvements. All landscape improvement plans must also comply with landscaping requirements of the Applicable Codes.
4.3.1 Landscape Improvements (Percentage)
Within each building site (i.e. a tract of land selected and designated by an owner or developer for the erection of a building or combination of buildings including parking, setbacks, retention, etc.), the area or areas designated for landscape improvements will comprise at least thirty percent (30%) of the total area of the building site.
4.3.2 Cluster Types
Described below are six (6) landscape cluster types, which should be incorporated into each development project as applicable and appropriate. Set forth below is a description of each landscape cluster type:
4.3.2.1 Park Landscaping. Each building site will incorporate an informal open lawn with meandering paths, clusters of trees, flowing streams (where available), one or more ponds, including retention/detention basins, and similar features. Clusters of trees may be included in Woodland, Garden or Buffer landscaping at the interface of architectural and park space, but the dominant imagery should be that of a pastoral landscape with broad lawns, large stately trees, and expansive vistas.
4.3.2.2 Greenway Landscaping. Each building site will incorporate consistent landscaping located along streets, roadways, walkways and pedestrian corridors between other exterior spaces. This landscaping will be consistent throughout the open space framework. Trees in pedestrian greenways will reflect the character of adjacent landscaped areas.
4.3.2.3 Garden Landscaping. Each building site will incorporate formal or informal landscaping to be located adjacent to or near each building within the building site. These areas will include large clusters of plants, which have intrinsic interest, such as flowers, fragrance or ornamental foliage, or branching.
4.3.2.4 Plaza Landscaping. Each building site will include a landscaped plaza, which is a hard-surfaced formal space where a variety of plants can be used to structure the space or give it texture, shade or visual interest. Plazas present a particularly important opportunity to make a memorable landscape impression; and for this reason, long-lived tree species are especially important for these spaces. A signature tree species is appropriate at each plaza.
4.3.2.5 Buffer Landscaping. Each building site will include an appropriate number of buffer landscaping areas, which will serve to screen building service areas and unsightly areas; to separate incompatible uses; or to create a scenic backdrop. Because buffer landscaping will be used throughout the campus in a variety of conditions and for a number of different reasons, materials should be limited to a few species which reflect adjacent plantings. Ornamental trees in masses, mixed informal hedges, formal hedges, or rows of columnar or non-deciduous trees and shrubs will be used to create buffer landscaping in smaller areas. Woodland and
Garden landscaping will be considered where sufficient space is available.
4.3.2.6 Woodland Landscaping. On building sites which include an existing forest area, the landscape improvement plan must also incorporate an existing or designated forest area that has many layers of vegetation, including a tree canopy, a shrub layer, a groundcover, and (where available) one or more streams. One of the functions of the Woodland Landscaping on the campus is to provide a respite from the more urban or formal areas, which are characterized by other Landscape Cluster Types, such as Garden or Park. Woodlands also serve to improve the urban environment and provide pervious areas that aid in storm water penetration. Woodland Landscaping may also be utilized as Buffer Landscaping. It may also be incorporated into parking lots or bio-retention areas.
4.3.3 Landscape Improvements (Plans Submitted)
Landscape improvement plans submitted to the applicable DRC must also address the following subjects:
4.3.3.1 Sedimentation and Erosion Control. Aggressive erosion control measures should be built into any landscape design and installation. Landscape designs will include positive management of surface water runoff to encourage recharge of ground water, such as the use of sub-surface perforated pipes connected to roof drains, drainage basins, and dry wells.
4.3.3.3 Maintenance Program. Each building site proposal will include a clear and comprehensive set of landscape maintenance guidelines which must be approved prior to completion of the landscape installation. Landscape maintenance guidelines can help to establish and maintain campus standards, such as noise control, common hedge heights, uniform tree appearance by species and water conservation measures. As a minimum, the maintenance guidelines will address the following items:
- Recommended watering schedule
- Recommended fertilization program
- Tree trimming schedule and guidelines
- Hedge and shrub trimming guidelines
- Acceptable hours of equipment operation (such as leaf blowers, lawn mowers and trimmers)
- Weed control measures
- Mowing schedule and equipment type (such as the use of mulching mowers)
- Green Waste disposal or utilization
The landscape maintenance guidelines will help to define a clear scope of work for landscape maintenance contractors or in-house maintenance personnel. It would allow for competitive “apples to apples” bidding of maintenance work, and will help to direct the maintenance program in fulfilling the design intent of the landscape architect.
CLEMSON UNIVERSITY
INTERNATIONAL CENTER FOR AUTOMOTIVE RESEARCH
Supplement to Architectural Guidelines
Table of Contents
A. Building Exterior
a. Materials
b. Window Openings
c. Glass and Glazing
d. Sunscreens
e. Roofs
f. Color & Materials
g. Signage
h. Lighting
i. Walkways
j. Plazas
k. Bikeways
B. Landscape Plant Materials
a. Listing of Plant Materials
b. Planting Pallet
c. Professional Services – Landscape Architect
d. General
C. Site Accessories
a. Site Furnishings
b. Walls and Fences
c. Utilities
d. Flagpoles
e. Mail Boxes
f. Fountains and Water Features
D. Interior Standards
a. Keeping with Campus Architecture
b. Window Treatments
c. Visibility from Exterior Areas
A. BUILDING EXTERIOR
a. Materials
In selecting exterior material for buildings within the CU-ICAR Campus, designers should utilize the design vocabulary of the international style. When utilizing this style, which in some cases is minimalistic in its philosophy, it is critical that building exteriors, as viewed by pedestrians, appear humanistic in scale and warm and inviting.
b. Window Openings
As much as possible, window openings should be articulated in order to provide interest to the structures. This articulation can be achieved in a horizontal or vertical format. It can also be achieved with punched window openings.
c. Glass and Glazing
The creative use of glass and glazing will be highly desirable. Glass walls, mullions and fins are typically characteristic of the international style, as well as butt glazing. Within the public realm, which is customarily the sidewalk or main entrance to any structure, it would be preferable to use clear glass in order to achieve transparency into the building. This facilitates visual connectivity between the inside and the outside of the structures.
Glazing above the first floor may need to vary, since energy conservation will be a significant criterion in selecting the ideal glass and glazing system.
d. Sunscreens
The use of sunscreens, in an appropriate manner, is highly desirable. Sunscreens may be vertical or horizontal, but should directly reflect the orientation of the building. Sunscreens should not be utilized where they are not necessary and should not generate glare or significant heat gain or loss. It is recommended that the sunscreen structures should be made of metal, and limited to metal color or white finish.
e. Roofs
Roofs should be consistent with the international style. Flat roofs will be encouraged in most applications. Variety will be achieved by using varying height parapets, mechanical penthouses, vertical stacks, stairwells and similar features. In some instances metal slope roofs will be permitted in order to screen undesirable mechanical units or to create an interesting and unique architectural massing.
f. **Color and Materials**
The color scheme for the campus should be consistent with existing development on the campus. Generally these include mixed tones of white and variations of gray. White tones are generally cool in nature and do not exhibit warm hues similar to ivory, cream, or anything in the red/yellow families.
Gray tones run the full extreme of this color family from minimally gray to medium to dark. Dark gray, bordering or black, may be used for building bases or accents, but should not be the dominant color on building elements.
Use of rubble stone colors or warm cut stone colors (earth tones) consistent with existing elements on the campus is allowed for bases of building, site elements and accents.
Colors consistent with corporate or institutional branding may be used to accentuate buildings or site elements, but should be done so very carefully with Design Review Committee input. These types of colors should not be the dominate color on any building and must be used in a tasteful, low-key tertiary manner so as to not detract from campus architectural consistency. As a guide, accent colors should be visible only at intimate, pedestrian areas and shall not draw ones eye when presented in the overall building view.
Building exterior materials should be consistent with the existing development on the campus. These include generous use of metal panels, stone, brick, precast concrete, poured-in-place concrete, glass, and metal.
g. **Signage**
All signage and signage plans must comply with the requirements of the sign ordinance(s) of the City of Greenville and the Declaration of Covenants, Conditions and Restrictions (CCR’s) for the Campus.
Each proposed project will work within the signage system in order to create a cohesive look to the overall campus.
Background/field colors for stand-alone signage shall be white or light gray tones consistent with other signage on campus.
Lettering colors shall be black or dark gray.
Lettering materials may be vinyl, metallic, or some integral product to the sign.
Directional signage shall be limited to a maximum height of eight (8) feet. Overall height and width shall be a factor of content necessary to allow for clear direction and building identification, if appropriate.
Building identification signage shall be limited to a maximum height of five (5) feet. Width shall be a factor of content necessary to allow for clear identification.
Signage shall not be allowed on the upper facades of buildings under any circumstances. Building identification signage is allowed at pedestrian level entry points on building facades and shall be limited to a maximum installed height of 12 feet.
Corporate symbols/logos will be allowed on identification signs as approved by the appropriate Design Review Committee. These sign elements may include the use of corporate or institutional colors. Use of corporate or institutional colors shall be limited to the actual logo of the developing entity. Background/field colors of signs shall not include corporate or institutional colors unless those colors are consistent with background/field colors previously referenced.
Signage may be illuminated externally only and shall not be illuminated internally by any means. Use of neon signage is not allowed.
h. **Lighting**
Street lighting is intended to give a homogenous look. Participants will be encouraged to use sustainable design in choosing the light fixtures for various properties.
Parking lot lighting should be efficient and low key. The use of hi-tech solar cell lighting will be encouraged.
Walkways should be lit in a way that positively effects human performance, well-being and experience.
Accent lighting will be encouraged as up-lighting for landscape elements, sculptural elements, water features, etc.
Pedestrian plazas should be lit so that outside interaction may occur in the evenings in a safe and secure manner.
Multiple and sculptural lighting elements will be encouraged in plaza areas to generate interest and excitement.
Light colors should be selected with the objective of giving a moon glow look to the campus rather than an artificial light color.
i. **Walkways**
The normal width of a campus pedestrian walkway will be five (5) feet. Where walkways need to be wider in order to accommodate pedestrian traffic or site accessories, they should adhere to the five (5) foot module, i.e., ten (10) feet, fifteen (15) feet, etc.
As the walkways proceed into the pedestrian precincts, the sidewalks will become more articulated as well as wider in overall dimension. The purpose for this will be to allow freedom of movement for multiple pedestrians in many directions.
Masonry will be the preferred material in order to inlay within the walkways. Gradients should be maintained to meet ADA requirements as well as the City requirements for grade separations and slopes.
General site walkways that are in less formal areas should be meandering walkways which are at least five (5) feet wide. These walkways may weave into highly landscaped areas along creek beds, streams, or steep grades.
Edge treatment should be utilized in order to prevent breaking of edges.
Safety will be a major concern for walkways; therefore all walkways should be visible to the passerby. They should be well lit and landscaped in a manner which would avoid individuals hiding behind shrubbery. The goal will be to create a safe and secure campus.
j. Plazas
Plazas should be paved with materials similar to those used in the accented walkways (five (5) foot module concrete band with specialty paving) in order to humanize the plaza spaces. Warm materials should be used wherever possible.
The color and texture of walls, paving, and screens should be compatible with adjacent surfaces of the upstate South Carolina.
k. Bikeways
The use of bikeways throughout the campus will be encouraged. Where bikeways parallel a concrete sidewalk, they should be at least three (3) feet in width and made of the similar material. Additionally, if bicycle pathways follow or parallel asphalt sidewalks, they should be at least three (3) feet in width and made of the same material. The same dimensions will apply for specialty paving walks. In order to separate the pedestrian pathway from the bicycle pathway, a line of transitional material at least eight (8) inches wide should be included in the paving.
Numerous bicycle parking areas should be located on the Campus and the paving design of such areas should be similar to the walkway seating area. Extensions should be made to sidewalks and pedestrian plazas in order to allocate space for bicycle racks.
B. LANDSCAPE PLANT MATERIALS
a. Listing of Plant Materials
A list of plants which will be acceptable for all Campus locations is set forth below and is not intended to be all-inclusive, but is designed to establish a basic vocabulary of plant material for the campus.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Plant List</th>
<th>Botanical Name</th>
<th>Common Name</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Grass/Mulch</td>
<td>Fescue SP (if season permits)</td>
<td>Seed/Sod</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Double Ground Hardwood Mulch</td>
<td>Mulch</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Annuals</td>
<td>Coleus SP</td>
<td>Coleus</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Begonia SP</td>
<td>Begonia</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Viola SP</td>
<td>Pansies</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Caledula SP</td>
<td>Marigolds</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Salvia Spendeng</td>
<td>Red Salvia</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Perennials</td>
<td>Daffodil Species</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Groundcovers</td>
<td>Jasminnium Asiaticum</td>
<td>Asiatic Jasmine</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Liriope Muscaria</td>
<td>Big Blue Lillyturf; Giant Lilyturf</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Cotoneaster Dammeri</td>
<td>Bearberrytu Cotoneaster</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Shrubs</td>
<td>Aucuba Japonica “Gold Dust”</td>
<td>Japanese Aucuba</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Eleagnus Pungens</td>
<td>Thorny Elaegnus</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Euonymus Alatus</td>
<td>Burning Bush</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Ilex Cornuta “Burordii Nana”</td>
<td>Dwarf Buford Holly</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Ilex Cornuta “Carissa”</td>
<td>Carissa Holly</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Raphiolepsis Indica</td>
<td>Indian Hawthorn</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Ilex Glabra</td>
<td>Inkberry Holly</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Ilex Vomitoria “Nana”</td>
<td>Dwarf Yaupon Holly</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Ligustrum Japonicu</td>
<td>Wax Leaf Ligustrum</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Kalmia Latifolia</td>
<td>Mountain Laurel</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Loropetalum Chinesis</td>
<td>Chinese Fringe Bush</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Prunum Laurocerasus “Otto Luyken”</td>
<td>Otto Luyken Laurel</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Rhododendron/ Azalea SP</td>
<td>Rhododendrons/Azaleas (all species)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Trees</td>
<td>Acer Rubram “Reed Sunset”</td>
<td>Red Sunset Maple</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Acer Rubrum “October Glory”</td>
<td>October Flory Maple</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Acer Palmatum</td>
<td>Japanese Maple</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Cornus Kousa</td>
<td>Kousa Dogwood</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Cornus Mas</td>
<td>Cornelian Cherry Dogwood</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Cornus Florida</td>
<td>Flowering Dogwood</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Ilex “Nelli R. Stevens”</td>
<td>Nelli Stevens Holly</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Lagerstroemia X Fauriei</td>
<td>Tuscarora Crepe Myrtle</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Prunus Serrulata Var. “Kwanzan”</td>
<td>Kwanzan Cherry</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Quercus Phellos</td>
<td>Willow Oak</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Auercus Glaucna</td>
<td>Japanese Black Oak</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Ginko Biloba</td>
<td>Ginko Tree</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Tsuga Carolinianna</td>
<td>Carolina Hemlock</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
b. **Planting Pallet**
The planting pallet can serve to provide continuity between individual projects within the Campus and should be adhered to as much as possible along with the primary roadways. The use of plant diversity and creative solutions to specific requirements will be encouraged. Included in the list are trees, shrubs, and ground covers that are indigenous to the area and are compatible with plantings in the main entrance and thoroughfares.
c. **Professional Services – Landscape Architect**
Due to individual site, soil, moisture and microclimate conditions, the use of a South Carolina registered landscape architect will be highly recommended to determine the appropriate plant materials for any particular development project.
d. **General**
In general the use of large masses of plant material is encouraged. Contrast in foliage texture and color and plant form should make plant masses discernable at a distance. Specimen plantings will be spaced to achieve natural form without growing into adjacent materials.
Evergreen material will be used to screen parking, service areas and utility structures wherever visible from visitor parking or circulation areas.
C. **SITE ACCESSORIES**
a. **Site Furnishings**
Benches, seating and tables should be encouraged in outdoor pedestrian spaces. The use of umbrella tables should also be considered at appropriate locations in order to promote casual eating, dining, and the use of pedestrian spaces during the hot summer months. Umbrella colors should be compatible with the context.
Site accessories shall be consistent with existing site accessories on the campus.
b. **Walls and Fences**
Walls other than retaining walls and fences will be used to provide visual screening, security, privacy, and sound attenuation.
Walls and fences within twenty (20) feet of a property line will be no more than three (3) feet six (6) inches high and made of solid material compatible with the base of the adjacent buildings. Open metal fences up to six (6) feet high may be used as required for security when compatible with the architecture of adjacent buildings.
The height of a fence, wall, berm or combination thereof around trash areas and service yards should be the minimum required to visually conceal the structure from passing motorists and pedestrians.
Arbors and covered walks will be included as an integral part of public plazas and encouraged to be utilized by individual building developers.
c. **Utilities**
Utility equipment, including power and communication lines, sewer lines, and water and irrigation pipes will be installed underground.
Necessary ground level utility equipment (meters, transformers, check valves, and so forth) and mechanical equipment for buildings should be screened by landscape berms and/or walls or fences.
d. **Flagpoles**
Flagpoles will be permitted elements at the entrance ways to complexes or at the main entranceway to buildings. Flagpoles may be up to thirty (30) feet high. County, state, local, and corporate flags may be displayed. The use of poles with an internal mechanical pulley system will be encouraged.
e. **Mailboxes**
Mailboxes will be located at certain areas to be approved by the appropriate DRC.
f. **Fountains and Water Features**
The use of fountains will be encouraged from an aesthetic perspective and for sound attenuation purposes, particularly along major thoroughfares. Any number of fountain designs will be permissible. The range between highly articulated, very sophisticated fountains to rolling mountain streams with waterfalls will be encouraged. Fountains will be acceptable as public art.
Water features will also be highly desirable. These will include pools with a jet of water included as well as high design water features.
D. **INTERIOR STANDARDS**
e. **Keeping with Campus Architecture**
Companies or other entities developing facilities on the CU-ICAR campus may follow interior furniture, fixture, and finish standards as desired. It is recommended that these interior features be in keeping with the overall architectural style of the Campus.
f. **Window Treatments**
Window treatments and other features visible for the exterior will require prior approval of the applicable DRC.
g. **Visibility from Exterior Areas**
Any interior finishes or furnishings visible from the ground level of buildings or interior lobbies or corridors of multi-tenant buildings shall require approval of the applicable DRC. |
An arts-led dialogue to elicit shared, plural and cultural values of ecosystems
David M. Edwards\textsuperscript{ab}, Timothy M. Collins\textsuperscript{b}, Reiko Goto\textsuperscript{b}
\textsuperscript{a} Social and Economic Research Group, Forest Research, Northern Research Station, Rothlin, Midlothian EH25 9SY, Scotland, UK
\textsuperscript{b} Collins and Goto Studio, 1M Glasgow Sculpture Studios, Whisky Bond Building, 2 Dawson Road, Glasgow G4 9DB, Scotland, UK
\section*{ARTICLE INFO}
Keywords:
- Shared values
- Cultural ecosystem services
- Deliberation
- Participation
- Deliberative-interpretive methods
- Socially-engaged art
\section*{ABSTRACT}
This paper introduces arts-led dialogue as a critical alternative to the prevailing instrumental and deliberative approaches to environmental valuation and decision-making. The dialogue, directed by an artist in collaboration with a community of participants, can comprise a single event, such as a workshop, or unfold over a period of years. Rather than seeking closure on a pre-determined problem, its intentions are typically to explore a subject or problem in original, challenging or provocative ways, which question the truth claims of any one discipline, at times with unexpected, emancipatory outcomes. We locate arts-led dialogue between deliberative and interpretive approaches to environmental decision-making, and within the history and theory of socially-engaged art, and analyse its key features: its purpose, participation, audience, format, content, and changes in values and identities through transformative learning. We illustrate these features by reporting on a creative enquiry into the shared, plural and cultural values associated with the Caledonian pinewoods of Scotland, focusing on the Black Wood of Rannoch in Highland Perthshire. The conclusions highlight two distinctive features: a commitment to critical dialogue and open exchange, and the character and experience of the artist who directs the process.
\section*{1. Introduction}
\subsection*{1.1. Overview}
There has been significant debate in the literature on ecosystem services valuation and environmental decision-making between two competing axiological and methodological perspectives: first, ‘instrumental’ approaches based on the aggregation of individual preferences using tools such as cost-benefit analysis and, secondly, deliberative valuation procedures that allow values to be formed through communicatively rational debate between participants acting as free and equal citizens (Fish et al., 2011; Kenter et al., 2014a, 2016a, 2016b; O’Neill et al., 2008; Orchard-Webb et al., 2016; Owens et al., 2004; Raymond et al., 2014). This paper outlines elements of a third approach, novel to the ecosystem services field, which addresses limitations of both the instrumental and conventional deliberative approaches. Grounded in the theory and history of socially-engaged art, we refer to it as ‘arts-led dialogue’. Although it is led by artists, it does not necessarily involve the production of art in the traditional sense of a painting or sculpture. Instead, the process of communication with an engaged community of participants becomes the artist’s ‘medium’ and arguably represents the ‘artwork’ itself (although it is unlikely to be referred to as such). By bringing an artist’s aesthetic attention to the historical, cultural and institutional context of a topic or issue, and maintaining a critical distance from established agendas and forms of knowledge, the dialogue can lead to unexpected insights and outcomes, which more conventional approaches might fail to recognize or realize (Helguera, 2011; Kester, 2004, 2011, 2012; Koh, 2015; Thompson, 2012).
We begin the paper with a critique of the model of decision-making that informs both instrumental and deliberative approaches. We argue that a decision is rarely a discrete event, involving the consideration of facts and values as part of a specific deliberative process. Instead, decisions emerge from organizational routines, procedures, habits and norms (O’Neill et al., 2008; Simon, 1997). This realisation redirects our attention away from the production of evidence to support individual decisions, and towards efforts to understand, appraise, and influence historical patterns of decisions and actions, and the institutions through which these are played out. Such a focus is largely missing from the discourse of ecosystem services. It creates a conceptual space to appreciate how an arts-led approach might, intentionally or otherwise, influence environmental decision-making, and offer a necessary corrective to the application of conventional instrumental and delib-
erative approaches.
In the next section, we outline recent developments in art theory and practice that have resulted in dialogue being regarded as a kind of socially-engaged art. We identify key features that can be used to characterize arts-led dialogue in relation to established deliberative approaches: their purpose, participation, audiences, format and content. In particular, we explore their capacity to form and transform both values and identities referring to the Deliberative Value Formation (DVF) model of Kenter et al. (2016). Section 3 illustrates the approach as practiced by the authors in relation to the Caledonian pinewoods of Scotland. We outline the activities, events, conversations and outcomes that have comprised the process to date. In conclusion, we note that the approach is dependent upon the professional experience and character of the artist, who applies his or her aesthetic attention to negotiate its direction, form and creative outputs. Given the unpredictable and, at times, critical nature of the intervention, we highlight the potentially important role of intermediaries, working with a host institution, who understand the role of the artist, and can support the process towards successful outcomes.
1.2. Instrumentality, deliberation and decision-making
The critique of the dominant instrumental approach to ecosystem service valuation and environmental decision-making is now well-rehearsed (Kenter et al., 2016a; Jordan and Russel, 2014; Owens et al., 2004). Grounded in neo-classical economics it follows the logic of cost-benefit analysis by assessing the impacts of alternative options on a range of ecosystem services. These are expressed where possible in monetary terms, and aggregated to identify the option that maximizes welfare (e.g. Braat and de Groot, 2012; Verkerk et al., 2014). As argued elsewhere in this issue, the approach is incompatible with a growing acceptance that values are plural and incommensurable and cannot be aggregated with a single measure. It also assumes that the values of individuals are purely self-interested (Kenter et al., 2014a; Kenter et al., 2016b; Haussman, 1993). The approach also struggles to address the unequal distribution of costs and benefits across society (O'Neill et al., 2008). Importantly it also assumes that values are fixed and pre-formed rather than uncovered, created or transformed through dialogue (Irvine et al. 2016; Kenter et al., 2016a). In practice, it is likely that most types of value that are shared across society (e.g. transcendent, social, cultural, communal and contextual) would not be fully captured or understood using this approach (Kenter et al., 2014a).
To overcome these limitations, deliberative methods are increasingly proposed, such as in-depth discussion groups, visioning workshops and citizens’ juries (Kenter et al., 2014a; Smith, 2003). In particular, its proponents highlight how preferences (or contextual values) are not pre-formed but generated through deliberation and learning (Christie et al., 2012; Kenter et al., 2014a; Parks and Gowdy, 2012; Spash 2008). This is done by creating opportunities for individuals to express, exchange, reflect, negotiate and develop their views and evidence in response to those of others (Stern and Fineberg, 1996; Kenter et al., 2014a). The outputs might include priority lists, recommendations and verdicts (Kenter et al., 2014a), which reflect the deliberated preferences of the group for a number of options as a means to support decision-making. The approach raises difficult questions around representation, especially of excluded groups, future generations and non-human actors (O’Neill et al., 2008; Orchard-Webb et al., 2016). Given the complementary strengths of the two approaches, various hybrids combine deliberation with formal tools into ‘analytical-deliberative’ approaches such as multi-criteria analysis (Fish et al., 2011; Kenter, 2016a; Kenter, 2016b; Kenter et al., 2016b; Orchard-Webb et al., 2016; Ranger et al., 2016).
In their ideal forms, the two approaches, instrumental and deliberative, can be seen as a contrast between substantive and procedural forms of rationality, and represent different ethical positions (O’Neill et al., 2008). Instrumental approaches such as cost-benefit analysis are ‘consequentialist’ (Cooper et al., 2016), grounded in substantive rationality; they assume that “the right decision is the one that produces the best outcome” (e.g. it maximizes well-being). In contrast, deliberative approaches follow a procedural rationality that looks backwards at the process that was followed rather than forwards at the consequences, and assumes that “a good decision is the one that is the outcome of rational deliberation” (O’Neill et al., 2008; 204; Simon, 1979).
Despite this fundamental difference, both approaches share a view of decision-making as consisting of discrete events that can be appraised in relative isolation from their historical and institutional context (O’Neill et al., 2008). In their ideal forms, both follow a similar sequence of steps. For the instrumental approach, as prescribed by the UK Treasury Green Book, options are appraised through economic modeling of costs and benefits (HMT, 2003) while, with deliberation, options are identified, and preferences formed, through the exchange of well-informed and reasoned opinions (Kenter et al., 2016a; Habermas, 1989; Daniels and Walker, 1996; O’Neill et al., 2008). In practice, deliberative methods are seen to be more useful in the early stages when options are developed, while analytic-deliberative and instrumental approaches support the assessment stage where options are appraised (Kenter, 2016a). Attempts to refine this model of decision-making to conform better to reality highlight, for example, the iterations between the steps in the cycle (Fish et al., 2011) rather than addressing institutional structures and procedures, which shape or constrain individual decisions and the use of option appraisal itself (Atkinson, 2015; Flyvbjerg et al., 2003).
Nevertheless, both are conceived as ways to support some form of option appraisal, and hence make recommendations to an individual or group who then arrive at a ‘moment of decision’. However, as argued by O’Neill et al. (2008) decisions are rarely discrete events – although retrospectively they might be characterized as such. They emerge from organizational routines, procedures, habits and norms rather than from a specific deliberative process. To understand and appraise decisions we need to understand these procedures and structures of power, and how they shape, and are shaped by, historical patterns of decisions and choices. This view is supported by an alternative, virtues-based approach to decision-making, which, drawing from Aristotle, recognises the inter-relationship between the character of individuals or institutions and the decisions they make (O’Neill et al., 2008).
A separate critique of the ‘technical-rational’ model of decision-making, grounded in empirical research into knowledge utilization, also challenges the assumption that knowledge flows in a linear fashion to support rational decision-makers, which is then used to improve decisions (Jordan and Russel, 2014; Nutley et al., 2007; Sanderson, 2002; Weiss, 1979). Alternatives models include: the conceptual (or enlightenment) model, where a body of knowledge shapes a policy agenda; the strategic model, where knowledge is used tactically by actors in a politicized venue, and the co-production model, where knowledge is constructed through interaction between knowledge users and producers (Jordan and Russel, 2014; Weiss, 1979; Dunlop, 2014). This body of research resonates with the historical and institutional understanding put forward by O’Neill et al. (2008). However, its value lies in helping us to understand, and hence improve, the production and utilization of evidence (e.g. the outputs of instrumental and deliberative approaches to environmental valuation) in its organizational context. The approach of O’Neill et al. suggests we understand and appraise the ‘character’ of an organization – its structures, procedures, habits and norms – which, in turn, could help reorient historical patterns of decisions and choices into the future.
While both perspectives are clearly important, this wider focus opens up a conceptual space where an arts-led dialogue can play a distinctive role. To help locate arts-led dialogue within the spectrum of approaches to ecosystem valuation, we make a distinction between ‘deliberation’ and ‘dialogue’, where – drawing from a range of definitions – deliberation is ‘the act of considering the reasons for and
320
against anything’ (i.e. appraising options), and dialogue is defined more broadly as ‘an exchange of views in the hope of ultimately reaching agreement’ (i.e. working towards a shared understanding). In our critique, we go beyond analytical-deliberation, but also beyond deliberation itself, in cases where deliberative methods are designed and used intentionally as a means to influence decisions conceived as single, isolated events, as part of an idealized policy cycle.
By conceiving ecosystem services valuation in terms of a dialogue that questions, challenges or reimagines the narratives that give meaning to a subject, problem or place, rather than just specific decisions, we identify a particular role for the ‘interpretive’ methods of the arts and humanities. These are recognized alongside instrumental and deliberative, and include analysis of narratives, music, visual and performance art, and literature including the field of ecocriticism (Buell, 2005; Coates et al., 2014; Kenter, 2016a). We locate arts-led dialogue in the intermediate category identified by Kenter et al. (2016b) as ‘interpretive-deliberative’, alongside interviews, focus groups, storytelling, and other approaches where dialogue is central to both the elicitation and interpretation of shared, plural and cultural values of ecosystems. Our paper represents one attempt to clarify the intersection between the two approaches.
2. Conceptualising arts-led dialogue
2.1. Dialogue in art theory and practice
Arts-led social and environmental practices have undergone significant developments in the last three decades. Beginning in the early 1980s, Lippard (1983, 1984, 1997, 2014) and Gablik (1984, 1992) began to reveal a new social and environmental context for making art. They shared a common unease with the art world and outlined theories and practices that integrated art, society and environment. Another early reference can be found in Lacy (1994), who established the idea of ‘new genre public art’, where artists are directly engaged with their audience in the production of creative work. Joseph Beuys’ concept of ‘social sculpture’ demonstrated the potential for art to transform society, which has become a foundational principle for many practitioners in this field (Kuoni, 1990). Kwon (2002) interrogated practices based on lived experience and relations between people and place. Nicholas Bourriaud began a discourse around ‘relational aesthetics’ (1998), based upon his recognition of an emergent museum-based form of social interaction (Bourriaud, 1998). More recently, Claire Bishop (2012) wrote on ‘participatory art’ defending aesthetics from ethical incursion, and Nato Thompson (2012) produced an international overview of activist and performative projects, which he terms ‘socially engaged art’.
Helen and Newton Harrison’s art practice includes the production of metaphor and mapping of ecosystems, hydrology and cultural relationships, and has involved a deep reading of social, political and economic conditions in relation to regional, national and international catchment basins. In the 1990s they focused on the coastal redwood forests of the Pacific Northwest (Harrison et al., 1993, 1995, 2001). Immersed in the issue of old growth forestry, they argued that ‘The Forest is Dying’, and introduced the idea of an ecosecurity system based upon one percent of gross US national profit. In doing so, they integrated aesthetics, ecology and economics in a metaphoric narrative of sustainability. Koh (2015) has developed an open-ended collaborative approach over two decades, working with marginalized land communities in South East Asia as well as in Europe and Ireland. Subsequently, historians, critics and curators have struggled with newer social and discursive forms, including Kester (2004, 2011, 2012), who developed the idea of ‘dialogical aesthetics’ based on generative discursive interaction, and Helguera (2011), an art practitioner and educator who has helped to interpret socially-engaged art for a wider audience.
What these initiatives have in common, which is of relevance to deliberative approaches, is a notion of art as social interaction. The artwork is not necessarily a finished ‘product’ as traditionally understood. Instead, a dialogue, facilitated by an artist, in collaboration with a community of participants, becomes the artwork itself, or a central component of it. The process of conversation becomes the artist’s medium, and the condition and character of the exchange are among the criteria through which it is critically appraised (Kester, 2012; Helguera, 2011). The dialogue is unlikely to be conducted for its own sake, but for a range of reasons, typically to explore a subject or problem in creative or challenging ways with a view to reach some kind of agreement, or to build the capacity of the group of participants. Its format might include a workshop, a provocative political act, or collaboration in the production or interpretation of a tangible artwork. It might be bounded by a discrete event, or be seen to unfold over a number of years. Its various forms have been described under many titles, as ‘community’, ‘collaborative’, ‘participatory’, ‘dialogic’ and ‘public’ art, and more recently as ‘social practice’ or ‘socially-engaged art’ (Helguera, 2011: 2–3). Formally, it is a kind of conceptual process art (Helguera, 2011) or a performative, process-based approach (Kester, 2012). We introduce the general term ‘arts-led dialogue’ to identify our interpretation of the genre as outlined theoretically in this section. Our specific application of arts-led dialogue, outlined in Section 3, puts greater emphasis on human-nature relations, and has been described elsewhere as a form of ‘creative enquiry’ (Collins et al., 2014).
Unlike much contemporary art theory, influenced strongly by postmodernism, the theoretical tradition supporting socially-engaged art draws from philosophical pragmatism, neo-pragmatism and education theory, including John Dewey, Junger Habermas and Paulo Freire (Helguera, 2011). In Kester’s analytic framework, the function of art is to create "a space in which certain questions can be asked, certain critical analysis articulated, that would not be accepted or tolerated elsewhere" (Kester, 2004: 68). It is an “active, generative process that can help us speak and imagine beyond the limits of fixed identities, official discourse and the perceived inevitability of partisan political conflict” (ibid: 8). Notably, the question of beauty is set aside in Kester’s theory; its relationship to aesthetics has long been contested (Beardsley, 1966; Cooper et al., 2016), and it does not necessarily add to the interpretation or judgement of the approaches discussed here, where different criteria apply, as discussed below.
To explore further how an arts-led dialogue can be positioned in relation to established deliberative approaches, and other kinds of social or community intervention, we analyse its: 1) purpose and goals; 2) representation and audience; 3) format and content, and 4) the processes involved. These categories were selected to reflect: focal points for critical analysis of dialogical aesthetics identified by Kester (2011); the norms of deliberation and the factors that shape its value outcomes (Kenter et al., 2016a; O’Neill et al., 2008), and generic factors faced when designing stakeholder engagement processes (Fish, 2011; Reed, 2008).
2.2. Purpose and goals
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the goals of arts-led dialogue and socially-engaged art differ widely between artists, projects, participants and contexts. Nevertheless, two common goals emerge: first, some form of conceptual impact, by raising awareness or debating an issue, subject or problem, in a critical self-reflexive way with an engaged community, to advance understanding and hopefully reach agreement; and secondly, some form of capacity- or community-building (Helguera, 2011; Koh, 2015). While such goals might seem commonplace, the specific intentions are often radical. The critical pedagogy of Freire is frequently cited, which sees learning as a process of consciousness-raising by a community through collective reflection on their circumstances, with potentially emancipatory outcomes (Freire, 1970; Helguera, 2011; Reed et al., 2010). By willingly engaging in an arts-led dialogue, writes
Helguera (2011: 13), participants can “extract enough critical and experiential wealth to walk away feeling enriched, perhaps even claiming some ownership of the experience or ability to reproduce it with others”. In this sense arts-led dialogue resonates with social theories of learning, such as transformative learning (Mezrow, 1995, 2000; Reed et al., 2010). According to Kester (2012: 153) “these exchanges can catalyse surprisingly powerful transformations in the consciousness of their participants”.
As with established deliberative approaches, when a group is divided in its interests and holds a plurality of values and identities, consensus might not be desirable or realistic, and the best outcome might be a shared respect for reasonable differences, or a degree of cooperation in the face of considerable disagreement (Lo, 2011; Dryzek, 2000; Kenter et al., 2014a; Sagoff, 1998). Thus, an arts-led dialogue that seeks emancipatory goals can be expected to succeed with a relatively homogenous group of individuals that can be mobilised by placing them in tension with an external group or institution, such as the state or market (cf. Kester, 2011). In doing so, their understandings, values and identities may become aligned as they reach agreement on their shared relationship to the external world, a realisation that helps build capacity. This consensus could represent the end of the artist’s intervention, after which their work is done. Alternatively, it could represent the end of the first stage in the generic process of deliberation outlined by Kenter et al. (2016a). If so, the process would then continue by identifying and selecting between alternative actions (which itself might not necessarily lead to consensus). While these latter steps could also become part of the arts-led dialogue, it is unlikely that the process would have been conceived as such from the beginning.
A capacity-building or emancipatory goal does not necessarily mean that the artist is pursuing a pre-defined agenda, such as finding a solution to a problem. Even with explicitly political actions, their purpose may still be focused on capacity-building, by facilitating the creation of enduring networks and shared identities that last beyond the action itself (Helguera, 2011). Koh (2015), an artist who allows the purpose of the work to unfold as part of the process itself, claims that he has no pre-determined objective or agenda – specifically one derived from expert assessment and social analysis – and suggests the process puts himself (along with everyone involved) in flux. He writes: “I seek to provide the know-how to increase the capacity for agency. I do not make any demand that participants should perform or undertake any prescribed action. Every decision regarding their actions rests on the participants” (Koh, 2015).
An arts-led dialogue does not set out to follow the logical steps in an idealized policy cycle. If it did so, it might be constrained by the search for problems that can be resolved easily, using measures that are both technically and politically feasible. In contrast, the artist, typically working as a (relatively) free agent, whose critical audience lies in the art world rather than applied social science, can sustain a position of strategic disinterest in utilitarian considerations. In doing so, the dialogue might reveal and express uncomfortable truths, and intractable problems, where the solutions, if they exist, reside outside established structures, procedures, habits and norms. Disinterest is a means to set aside the practicalities of an issue and focus on the ‘evolution of subjectivity’ (or meaning or significance) for its own sake. This is not to suggest that, once the arts-led dialogue begins, agendas do not emerge, but rather that those agendas are revealed through discourse, and in response to extant knowledge, experience and meaning.
2.3. Participation and audience
People engage with the process directly as participants or indirectly as audiences, i.e. members of relevant communities of place and interest across society, including the critical art world. First, regarding the participants, the need to involve representatives of all relevant stakeholder groups and a diversity of voices in participatory processes, including arts-led dialogue, has long been acknowledged (Fish, 2011). Inclusiveness is typically seen to increase the quality and legitimacy of the process, and its outputs and outcomes, while inclusiveness itself can be valued for its own sake (Chilvers, 2009). When properly facilitated, it can enhance the degree of social learning and sharing of values (Kenter et al., 2014a; Cuppen, 2012; Newig and Fritsok, 2009), supporting capacity-building goals. The ecosystem services agenda is committed to capturing the full range of benefits for human well-being, including ‘cultural services’, which underlines the need to reach out to new stakeholder groups who can speak for them (Fish, 2011). While ecosystem services approaches now routinely claim to extend the boundaries of engaged stakeholders (albeit, at times, superficially), guided by the ideals of representativeness and neutrality, in principle this is not necessarily the case for an arts-led dialogue, where artists may choose to work with a narrowly-defined community, or conversely bring in new voices with challenging or inspiring ideas even if this appears to over-represent certain interests. Clearly, decisions around ‘who’s in and why’ (Reed et al., 2009) are fundamental to the process and outcomes of both arts-led dialogue and deliberative processes. But arguably artists, with their non-instrumental, critical, and creative intentions, can choose to be less constrained by the norms of procedural rationality.
Secondly, regarding the audience, the genre of socially-engaged art tends to be inclusive and accessible to the wider public. This contrasts with other contemporary art, where social interactions are structured around exclusionary codes or ‘passwords’ that fulfil a descriptive role within art discourse, but also confer status on those ‘in the know’, perhaps allowing them to maintain a distance from the mainstream (Helguera, 2011). A key part of the audience is likely to be the critical art world, which judges its impact in two ways: as a social intervention and as a symbolic action. In principle, the same intervention seeking conceptual or capacity-building outcomes could be framed within the realm of art, adult education, or community development, but judged differently according to the criteria of its respective critical audience. The interest of the art world is perhaps the clearest indicator that a project is ‘art’, helping to fund the work, promote it, and shape its format and content by means of its evaluative criteria, and influencing the choice of venue and media through which it is practiced and reported (Helguera, 2011).
2.4. Format and content
In addition to the question of ‘who’s in and why’, the deliberation literature devotes much attention to the facilitation process, highlighting the need to be impartial and independent to ensure all voices are heard, despite possible inequalities of power. This affects the extent to which participants’ values will converge or diverge (Kenter et al., 2014a), influencing the outcomes, including whether any consensus is genuine or ‘dysfunctional’ (Kenter et al., 2016a; Orchard-Webb et al., 2016a; Reed, 2008).
In addition to the relations between participants, a second dimension to power lies between the participants as a group, and the actors controlling the process. According to Helguera (2011: 54): “the expertise of the artist lies, like Freire’s, in being a non-expert, a provider of frameworks on which experiences can form and sometimes be directed and channelled to generate new insights around a particular issue”. Similarly, for Kester (2012: 153), citing the British artist Peter Dunn, the artist is ‘context provider’ rather than a ‘content provider’. Within this discursive space, artists can work on behalf of the community to solve their problems and further their interests, in the manner of a community development worker, or they can seek to impose their own vision or agenda. In both cases they may have lost sight of a commitment to open exchange and critical dialogue, which, if practiced, could allow all parties to identify common interests and negotiate a way forward (cf. Helguera, 2011). Either position could be a
point of departure, but rather than subscribing to them uncritically, the artist might "make work that ironizes, problematizes, and even enhances tensions around those subjects, in order to provoke reflection" (Helguera, 2011: 35).
In arts projects that do maintain a critical distance from the interests from any one group, the tactics used and the atmosphere created can vary on a continuum from agreement to antagonism, or collaboration to confrontation. One way to understand the dynamics is by looking at how topics or problems are taken beyond their established disciplinary boundaries and institutional settings into an ambiguous and uncertain space. In Kester's account: "Knowledge is reliable, safe, and certain as long as it is held in mono-logical isolation and synchronic arrest. As soon as it becomes mobilised and communicable, this certainty slips away and truth is negotiated in the gap between self and other, through an unfolding, dialogical exchange" (Kester, 2011: 19). Likewise, Helguera writes: "It is this temporary snatching away of subjects into the realm of art-making that brings new insights to a particular problem or condition and in turn makes it visible to other disciplines" (Helguera, 2011: 5). Jay Koh's approach recognises the validity and dynamism of opposing values and beliefs, which require a rebalancing of power to achieve the coevolution of meaning. He develops spaces where everyone can articulate their own position and test it through "participatory, critical and creative thinking". This format allows his participants "to emphasize, accept and support each other's agency and self-realisation" (Koh, 2015: 162). In doing so, Koh appears to embrace the norms of communicative rationality theorised by Habermas (1992), but the purpose is more open-ended than an instrumental focus on decision-making.
2.5. Processes of transformation
Changes in understanding, re-evaluating positions, uncovering latent values, generating new values, and changes in identity, in a social context, are all explored by social theories of learning. Mezirow (1995) introduced a typology comprising ‘instrumental learning’ (acquiring new knowledge or skills), ‘communicative learning’ (understanding and reinterpreting knowledge through communication with others), and ‘transformative learning’ (where an examination of underlying assumptions leads to change in attitudes, behaviour and social norms) (Reed et al., 2010). Arguably, communicative learning maps onto both deliberative and arts-led approaches, but arts-led approaches in particular seek to encourage transformative learning. The deliberative valuation literature highlights examples of transformative learning in relation to the environment, but the focus is on changes in values rather than identities. Where identities come to the fore they are primarily considered in terms of how they shape values. Thus, questions of identity arise in the story-telling deliberations in Kenter et al. (2016b) and the ethnographic video interviews used to inform deliberations in Ranger et al. (2016). In contrast, Kester (2004) presents the identity construction role of dialogue as a key component of his dialogical aesthetics through what he calls ‘empathetic insight’.
Much of the theory around deliberative democracy, social learning and socially-engaged art is grounded in Habermas’ theory of communicative action, a discursive form of communication in which he called the ‘public sphere’, a space in which “no force except that of the better argument is exercised” (Habermas, 1975: 108). Kester builds on established criticisms of Habermas, noting that, in practice, we do not necessarily respond to reason. He borrows the term ‘connected knowing’ from Belenky et al. (1986): “a form of knowledge based not on counterpoised arguments, but on a conversational mode in which each interlocutor works to identify with the perspective of the others” (Kester, 2004: 113). His account reads like a plausible characterisation of a social encounter within the safe discursive space created by many arts-led projects. Connected knowing recognises that, in practice, dialogue takes place in a wider social context, rather than a rational public sphere where interests and inequalities of power are set aside. In this arena, Kester explains, dialogue becomes a form of empathetic identification: “It is through empathy that we can learn not simply to suppress self-interest through identification with some putatively universal perspective, or through the irresistible compulsion of logical argument, but to literally re-define self: to both know and feel our connectedness with others” (Kester, 2004: 114).
By highlighting the role of empathy, Kester puts his finger on a process that has value in and of itself. Furthermore, a project that lets us ‘both know and feel our connectedness with others’ is looking likely to support its capacity-building and possibly emancipatory goals. Empathy, and the process of listening, underline the character of much socially-engaged art, which creates a space for identification, for listening and honest speaking and, referring to the work of Suzanne Lacy, for people to “begin to identify with each other as individuals rather than abstractions” (Kester, 2004: 116). While empathetic identification, and the insights it generates, might also result from the use of established deliberative approaches, it is not their purpose, and is unlikely to be given as much critical attention or encouragement. Kester (2004) notes three ‘axes’ along which empathetic insight can be produced (reflecting those identified in the discussion above): between artists and their collaborators; among the collaborators themselves; and between the collaborators and other communities of viewers. As noted later, it could also be produced along a fourth axis: identification between collaborators and the places (or ‘environmental settings’) that they value (Goto Collins and Collins, 2012; Goto Collins and Collins, 2016; Church et al., 2014; Fish et al., 2016).
The Deliberative Value Formation (DVF) model, developed by Kenter et al. (2016a), identifies nine outcomes of group deliberative valuation, which helps us further to conceptualise arts-led dialogue. These are: 1) changes in systemic understanding; 2) changes in capacity to deliberate; 3) changes in trust; 4) improved understanding of the values of others; 5) triggering of dormant values; 6) stronger association of contextual values with transcendental values; 7) a shift in value orientation towards the common good; 8) adaptation and social desirability bias, and 9) entrenchment. While in principle all nine of these could emerge from an arts-led dialogue, the seventh kind, ‘a shift in value orientation towards the common good’, most closely fits the empathetic insight highlighted by Kester (2004), the potential for emancipation (Helguera, 2011) and the self-realisation and capacity for agency reported by Koh (2015). Kenter et al. (2014a) describe how this outcome can increase willingness to sacrifice personal interests – similar to the shift from ‘consumer’ to ‘citizen’ values theorised by Sagoff (1998) – and acknowledge that this might only reflect a ‘temporary suppression of self-interest’. Perhaps this is not a problem if the next step is to insert the elicited values into decision-making. But if the goal is more open-ended, we suggest that an arts-led dialogue unfolding over a period of time, which sees the ‘condition and character of the dialogical exchange itself’ (Kester, 2012: 157) as a focus of disinterested aesthetic attention, creates space to generate an enduring sense of shared values and identities, at times with unanticipated consequences.
3. Seeking value in the Caledonian pinewoods
3.1. Overview
Between 2013 and 2016, the environmental artists Collins and Goto led a project to explore the Caledonian pinewoods of Scotland as both an ecological and cultural entity. They came to focus on the Black Wood of Rannoch in Perthshire, one of the largest remnants of the forested landscape that once extended across much of Scotland (Smout, 2000). Since 1974, the primary objective of management has been biodiversity conservation and ecological restoration, with a core area designated as a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) and a Special Area of Conservation (SAC) (FCS, 2009). The artists collaborated with a social scientist from Forest Research (the research agency of the Forestry
The process began with informal conversations and walk-and-talk events in the forest, and a two-day ‘future forest’ workshop held locally in November 2013. This was followed by artists’ residencies in early 2014 at the Perth Museum and Art Gallery, and at Forest Research, where conversations and reviews were conducted on woodland ecology and history, landscape restoration, environmental aesthetics, and the ecosystem services literature. The artists produced a number of conceptual artworks based on their experiences in the forest, including a large map of the Rannoch region showing translations of Gaelic place names, which were shown as part of an exhibition ‘Sylva Caledonia’, convened by ‘ecartscohot’ and held at the Summerhall Gallery, Edinburgh, in Spring 2015. The exhibition was accompanied by a public seminar series ‘The Caledonian Everyday’ with the authors and some project partners among the speakers, which continued the dialogue with local ecologists and forest managers, assisted by discussions around the artists’ exhibits and publications.
Taken together, this evolving sequence of events, activities, artworks, publications, blogs, conversations and deliberations formed the entirety of the arts-led dialogue, referred to by the artists as a ‘creative enquiry’ or more specifically a ‘critical forest art practice’. While we focus on dialogue as its main component, and contrast it with established deliberative approaches, it could also be described as a mixed methods approach, with the artists providing coherence and direction to a series of separate actions. For example, the workshop concluded with a group deliberation to confer, ponder and make recommendations, which resembled a deliberative in-depth workshop or visioning exercise (Kenter, 2016a). Later, an indicative scenario analysis was carried out to explore options for management of Caledonian forests as a heuristic device to support the on-going dialogue (Edwards et al., 2016). In the next section, rather than attempting to evaluate the entire process, which at this stage would be difficult and premature, we focus on the workshop to illustrate how the conceptual points made in the previous section can play out in practice.
3.2. The process: the ‘cultural problem’ and ‘future forest’ workshop
At an early stage in the process, initial plans developed with PKCT to revive historical trails through the Rannoch region that once facilitated the transhumance (the seasonal migration of people and cattle) were blocked by the government agencies, FCS and Scottish Natural Heritage (SNH), responsible for managing the forest. Given the agencies’ objectives for the site, this decision was understandable. The Black Wood of Rannoch management plan limits facilitation of any public activity and engagement that does not directly serve the conservation interest (FCS, 2009). However, during a guided walk in the forest, it became clear that some members of the Rannoch community, as well as the core trail interests, sought to renew their engagement and access to the forest in culturally meaningful ways. This encounter revealed tensions and misunderstandings between agencies and locals, and the artists themselves, related to the policy of biodiversity conservation, and its restricted range of human interest. The artists were left wondering why it appeared that the social and cultural values of the Black Wood were viewed as an antithesis to the precepts of scientific conservation. The tensions had two manifestations: first, discouragement of public access, and secondly the need for retrieval, recognition and expression of the cultural and historical meanings associated with the site and the Caledonian forest more generally.
The tensions were broadly understood to be a local manifestation of a much wider problem – in our analysis, a set of structural and discursive relations between land management institutions, the scientific discourse of biodiversity conservation with its commitment to the ideal of ‘naturalness’, and the perceptions of a largely urbanized public about the character, meaning and purpose of the rural landscape. Importantly, this agenda was co-produced through dialogue between the artists, local residents and forest managers. It was not part of a predetermined activist strategy, but a moment in the early stages of the process when, in our analysis, uncomfortable, static, mono-disciplinary truths that are institutionalized and seldom-questioned were put into the light of day, revealing tensions and misunderstandings, but also opportunities, which called for attention.
The purpose of the workshop was to recover lost cultural values, create new meanings and imagine alternative futures for the Black Wood. There were 28 active participants: 11 community members (including board members of local associations, land managers, artists and residents with Gaelic language, landscape and ecological interests); five members of the forestry sector (public and private); four members of NGOs; three representatives of the Scottish cultural sector; three arts and humanities academics, and the artists Collins and Goto. An additional 20 people attended a public seminar and forest walk organized as part of the event. The cultural sector was deliberately well-represented, with participants invited to address different perspectives on the ‘cultural problem’ that had emerged in the early stages of the project. Again, representation was not predetermined: had a different issue emerged, participation at a workshop might have been extended in other ways, to represent other social groups, agencies or disciplines. Having said that, the need to broaden participation and incorporate cultural and spiritual values into native pinewood management was already acknowledged (Mason et al., 2004).
Regarding the audience, the artists were influenced as much by the evaluative criteria of the ecosystem services community as that of the art world, for example with dialogue, presentations and a contribution to a publication linked to the UK National Ecosystem Assessment (Kenter et al., 2014b). Primarily, they felt responsibility towards the communities that care for, and care about, the Black Wood, as well as towards the forest itself. There was an underlying ‘more than human’ dimension to the artists’ creative enquiry, which sought to encourage empathetic identification between participants, but also with the Black Wood, through careful aesthetic attention.
Regarding the format, the event was convened by a professional facilitator with personal links to the community, who sought to maintain neutrality and give voice to all participants. More importantly, in designing the event, the artists did not act as ‘neutral’ facilitators who simply provided a framework for conflicting local parties to reach agreement. Nor did they act as uncritical agents of the specific community interests who wanted to change how the forest is managed and used. They also did not seek to impose their emerging perspective, grounded in a sense of lost layers of history in the landscape. Working back and forth between these positions, they applied their ‘expertise of the non-expert’ and an attitude of strategic disinterest to re-frame local tensions within a wider historical and cultural context of interaction between people and the forest. The artists were aware that the core designated area of the Black Wood was unusually restrictive in terms of public access. But this allowed them to present the project as a symbolic action: one that encourages us to notice the same issues in sites where they are less apparent, and hence locate the problem more generally across the Scottish land management community and wider society.
Regarding the content, through a series of presentations, the participants were introduced to a range of ideas, opinions and proposals, expressing diverse contextual values in relation to the forest, which, in various ways, were informing, inspiring and challenging (Collins et al., 2014; Collins and Goto, 2016). Two breakout groups were asked to proceed from initial scoping of what mattered to them about the Black Wood, through more detailed consideration of
problems and opportunities, and visions of the future forest that could be shared by most participants. Each group was given a series of maps and an overview of the strategic management objectives for the forest. The key issues, and proposed actions and options were recorded (see below).
The workshop established the agenda for the subsequent conversations, events and outputs over the following two years. Reflecting back on this period, the process was rarely conceived by the artists in terms of the kinds of generic goals identified for arts-led dialogue in Section 2. Instead, their preoccupation was with the forest itself and our changing relationship with it. The overriding question that lay behind and gave coherence and direction to the dialogue was one of environmental ethics: ‘What is right for the Black Wood?’ This question was not posed in response to a sense that nature, as opposed to culture, has intrinsic value; rather it was prompted by the narratives, old and new, that people use to express the value of the forest, i.e. the idea that the Black Wood is the product of centuries of human interaction, a history that is largely lost. Following O’Neill et al. (2008) the question could be reframed as: what was the best way to continue the ‘story’ of the Black Wood in such a way as to secure the transfer of historical significance into the future?
3.3. The outcomes: from biodiversity conservation to ecocultural restoration
During the workshop, it was striking how ecological, and aesthetic and spiritual, values were closely aligned. It was not possible to separate out different groups of participants according to these shared cultural, contextual values. Some of the most passionate expressions of the aesthetic and spiritual value of the forest came from the local FCS manager (an ecologist), who described it as the “beating heart” of the district, “a jewel to be nurtured” and “a national icon.” He spoke of the 300 year old ‘granny pines’ as “the fantastic matriarchs of the forest, something to respect, to be treated honourably” and as “things of great beauty” (Collins et al., 2014; Edwards et al., 2016). Other local foresters suggested that they see their role as (at times, misunderstood) guardians of the natural features that give the wood these values. They indicated that they personally valued the wood as much, if not more, for its cultural importance as its ecological importance. This challenged preconceptions about the ways in which the foresters’ sense of aesthetic value might be conditioned by their institutional role as resource managers (cf. Peterken, 1996; Edwards et al., 2012).
A significant cluster of values, again shared across a range of participants, which saw the forest as something we are connected to, identify with, have a relationship with, and perhaps even empathize with. One participant valued the opportunity “to walk through it, and walk its history at the same time”; another valued the chance “to wander with the Black Wood rather than through it”. Another asked: “Does beauty draw greater attention, knowledge and care?” One local artist wrote: “I will continue to work on the Black Wood, with the Black Wood and in the Black Wood!” Regarding ecological value, again there was strong agreement shared across a range of participants. One said: “Remember the ecological community – not just the iconic trees”. Another exclaimed: “Can you imagine Rannoch in one hundred years... with both sides of the Loch covered in Caledonian pine!” Similarly, another said: “I want to see lynx and boar and wolves in my Scottish forest. It has got to be bigger and wilder and more magnificent than it is today.” Participants were pleased to see agreement on the need to conserve and expand the forest: “The general consensus that the Black Wood is special and needs to be both conserved and expanded is inspiring.”
Regarding access, however, there were tensions around the perception that people were not being encouraged to visit the forest, and a proposal to produce maps and leaflets to build visitors’ confidence. Earlier, during the guided walk, the same local manager explained: “The Forestry Commission are not opposed to the public coming in here, but they are very concerned about making it more popular... The forest is more important than the people.” During the workshop the issue was not explicitly addressed, but some local participants implicitly questioned the policy: “Who owns it anyway?” “Do we ‘protect and save’ or ‘protect and share’?” “People have always been and will always be a part of the Black Wood.” Closely related to the issue of access, some local residents wished for greater community engagement. This was not expressed in an oppositional way, and in some cases as a sense of duty: wanting to give as well as gain from the forest: “What can the community give the Black Wood? What can the community gain from the Black Wood?” Participants recognized their values as relational, or two-way, as discussed by Cooper et al. (2016).
Regarding cultural and historical values, the picture was more complex and overlapped with the issue of community engagement. There were calls: to create a “deeper understanding” and “develop relationship”; to “remember the narratives of this place” including the Rannoch School, which was located within the forest but is now closed; to increase “community involvement in learning what was known in the past; “capture local stories, before it’s too late; to use the Black Wood as a “show piece” providing “information and education opportunities at the centre in town; to offer more “on-site walk and talks in the wood with diverse experts; to “use the scientific infrastructure [in the forest] as a learning resource” and “stimulate cultural engagement”.
However, regarding the broader cultural and ecological history, most participants were less knowledgeable. Some shared their feelings of ignorance, with one asking; “Does anyone know why it’s called ‘Black Wood’?” There was a discussion about the loss of Gaelic language resulting from forced depopulation during the Highland clearances, and historical education policy, over the last two centuries, embodied for example in place names, and how this represented a loss in aesthetic value. Through the dialogue, some participants increased their understanding and appreciation of the forest and wider landscape as an embodiment of the contested cultural history of the region, and saw the policy of biodiversity conservation in the different light: while it had ensured its continued survival in the face of destructive economic interests, the restriction of human activity in pursuit of a wilderness ideal of naturalness had frozen the story of human interaction with the forest, and represented yet another layer of lost cultural meaning. Questions were aired, but not resolved, about the links between forest management and the future aesthetic form of the ‘granny pines’, which has been shaped by centuries of human interaction (Peterken and Stace, 1986; Steven and Carlisle, 1959).
Four strong proposals emerged from the workshop, which saw ways to overcome both aspects of the ‘cultural problem’ as originally encountered. These were: 1) ‘deep mapping’ to create a multi-layered, ecological and cultural map using GPS, texts and images that celebrates the Black Wood; 2) an inclusive forest planning process with local agencies and residents; 3) a ‘Caledonian Forest Way’, linking specific areas, forests and communities through a trail defined by arts, culture and Gaelic themes, and 4) an interdisciplinary residency programme to help establish new social and cultural relationships with the Black Wood (Collins et al., 2014). Together these proposals represent a shift in focus: from ecological restoration and biodiversity conservation, a policy that derives authority from scientific discourse, towards a new paradigm of ecological and cultural restoration, which recognises the legitimacy of shared, plural and cultural values, and negotiation between alternative narratives of the appropriate story of place. While there is no certainty that these proposals will be enacted, if they were, ironically, the outcome in terms of physical management of the forest may change little, if at all. However, there could be a substantial change in the relationship between people and forest, and between forest managers, locals and visitors (which in turn might increase support for conservation).
Going into the workshop there was a feeling of distrust between some participants, but, by the end, this had largely dissipated. What mattered most, it appeared, were local everyday appreciations of the
forest for its aesthetic, spiritual, ecological value, and the memories it embodied. By the end, there was a sense in which seeing and knowing the forest through ecological science, aesthetic attention, and history, narrative and memory, were complementary ways of expressing value for the same phenomenon, but different in terms of their discursive power to influence decision-making. One wrote: “The value of the cultural complement to scientific conservation is clearer at the end of the day.”
Revisiting the DVF model (Kenter et al., 2016a) introduced in Section 2.5, we noticed changes in systemic understanding, changes in trust, improved understanding of the values of others, and a shift in value orientation towards the common good. With the changes in values, there were also changes in identities and connectedness. Instead of participants being seen as discrete groups of foresters, locals, and outsiders from the cultural sector, there was a new sense of a diverse group working with a broad narrative of regional ecosocial restoration (cf. Higgs, 2003). This narrative was not fully formed (perhaps making it easier for participants to give it their support), but, for some, it represented an inspiring and inclusive alternative to business-as-usual. A sense of increased identification and connectedness with the forest itself was also apparent during and after the guided walks associated with the workshop, evidenced in part by narratives of being ‘with’ as well as ‘in’ the forest. The convergence of values and identities, along with increased connectedness between participants (and arguably with the forest itself), represented the beginnings of capacity-building for future cooperation: the proposal for deep mapping of the forest was being considered by local agencies. There were also unplanned instrumental impacts through decisions to conduct surveys in ways that engaged with locals. However, the main outcome of the workshop was more conceptual and durational: it helped to inform and reorient the dialogue, including the public seminars, conceptual artworks, ad hoc discussions, and funding proposals that seek to revive the national debate about the Caledonian pinewoods, their history, their value and their future.
These outcomes are unlikely to have been realized through a technical-rational process that sought to elicit existing values for insertion into decision-making. Furthermore, we suggest that a ‘neutral’ deliberative process, led by ‘impartial’ social scientists or economists, might not have extended the sphere of influence in a particular direction, i.e. towards cultural interests, or questioned the attitudes and values that underpin current policy. While some deliberative-interpretive methods, such as an in-depth workshop, might have realized the same outcomes, the difference lies with the creative freedom and longer-term intentions of the artists, who provide their own coherence and character to the unfolding dialogue, leading to an imaginative range of outcomes.
4. Conclusions
Behind this paper lies the question: as researchers wishing to work towards a resilient and sustainable future, how do we make a difference? Do we support better decision-making by improving the quality of evidence and knowledge exchange, perhaps by using a co-production model of engagement? Or do we pursue an alternative approach, grounded in a different rationality and ethical position, which also pays critical attention to the context and character of the organizations that make those decisions – their institutional structures, procedures, habits and norms. Between these alternatives lies a spectrum of possible interventions, helping us to position the roles available for arts-led dialogue as conceived in this paper.
Comparing arts-led dialogue to deliberative approaches, we highlight two key differences. The first lies in the process: its intentions and methods. The artists are unlikely to impose their own agenda on the participants, or that of an external institution for example by conceiving the action as the early stage in an idealized policy cycle, which eventually seeks to provide evidence to support decision-making within existing institutional structures and procedures. They are also unlikely to act as ‘neutral’ facilitators that help a divided community reach consensus, which would resemble a kind of community development project, or provide uncritical support to help a group solve their problems. Instead, the artist is committed to a critical dialogue that might use any of these positions as a point of departure, but then work with it creatively, at times maintaining a critical distance, to help participants and the artists themselves realize new understandings or insights, agreement, empathy and connectedness. In doing so, they might reach a common understanding and build capacity with potentially emancipatory outcomes, which in turn could generate unintended changes to structures and procedures, and patterns of decision-making into the future. Through this approach, the arts and humanities can offer critical attention to the ethics and character of organized interests that seeks new meanings rather than evidence to support decisions, or neutral facilitation to reach some consensual decision point. By changing meanings and relationships, an arts-led approach has the potential to change structures and procedures, challenging extant patterns of decision-making.
The second difference resides in the artists themselves. In principle, a similar process could be led by a community or organization development consultant, adopting similar values and approaches along the lines of Freire’s critical pedagogy (1970), Mezirow’s transformative learning (2000) Schön’s reflective practice and other methods building on the tradition of action research (e.g. Heron, 1996; McNiff, 2013; Schön, 1983). But artists have particular kinds of education, networks, skills and experience: their background in the history and theory, and personal experience, of socially-engaged art, brings an interdisciplinary ‘expertise of the non-expert’, a critical stance in relation to the truth claims and standards of any one discipline, and an aesthetic attention to the dialogical exchange (Kester, 2012). Their relative freedom from institutional constraints allows them to pursue non-instrumental goals shaped by the evaluative criteria of the critical arts world, such as originality, creativity and provocativeness. All of this combines to reinforce a commitment to certain values, ideals and norms, both personally and professionally, such as social engagement, authenticity of expression, self-actualization and the ‘evolution of subjectivity’. Such qualities may contrast with the procedures and norms of administrative decision-making (Simon, 1997). This tension is partly the source of the artist’s creative contribution, but it can also be perceived as a problem by those seeking to operationalize arts-led initiatives within a formal organizational setting. Here, we identify the potential benefits of an intermediary, working within (or with) the host institution, such as an arts manager, knowledge exchange professional or interdisciplinary researcher, who can understand what an artist can offer, prepare a brief to attract the right kind of artist, and, if appropriate, support the process through periods of uncertainty and change towards constructive and rewarding outcomes.
Acknowledgements
Primary funding for this project was provided by Creative Scotland, Year of Natural Scotland, in 2013. The Landscape Research Group, Forestry Commission Scotland and Forest Research provided match funding and support, with additional in-kind support from the Perth and Kinross Countryside Trust, and the Perth and Kinross Museum and Art Gallery. In addition, we would like to thank everyone who kindly gave their time, expertise and enthusiasm to the project by participating in discussions, workshops, events and residencies, including Anne Benson, Valentina Bold, Rob Coope, Graeme Findlay, Chris Fremantle, Peter Fullarton, Andy Peace, Chris Quine, Mike Smith, Bid Strachan, Paul Tabbush, Charlie Taylor and Richard Thompson. We particularly thank Jasper Kenter and three anonymous reviewers for their valuable suggestions and comments on earlier versions of the paper.
References
Spash, C.L., 2008. Deliberative monetary valuation and the evidence for a new value theory. Land Econ. 84, 469–488.
|
It is significantly important to integrate various sources of knowledge and information for selecting and combining materials in today’s industrial design practice and education. Compared to the engineering and technical properties of materials, the information about the aesthetic attributes and sensory or perceptual features of materials is equally important but has been less explored. Based on theoretical and experimental research, this article addresses the fundamental contents of material aesthetics and sensory perception and the methodology in approaching the research in this area. A material aesthetics database resulting from the author’s research activities with a focus on texture is also introduced. Examples are given to showcase how the research results are applied as a reference for new product development in industry, and how the research results are combined with other resources in facilitating materials teaching in industrial design education.
INTRODUCTION
The process of material selection in product design can be quite complex as it depends on a range of factors such as functional requirements, manufacturing constraints, economics and life cycle, ecological sustainability, aesthetic and sensory material properties, and their cultural and representative meanings. These factors may influence the decision-making separately, but in most cases, they are interrelated. For example, stainless steel has good corrosion resistance, for which carbon steel is not compatible, but carbon steel has better manufacturing flexibility particularly in welding, and is cheaper than stainless steel; Titanium alloys are even better than stainless steel in corrosion resistance, with a slightly darker tone of grey and more elegant colour, and are also much lighter in weight, however they cost much more. Bamboo is now trendy in interior (e.g. floors) decoration in China, not only for its excellent physical properties, fine textures, and weather durability, but also for its
rich cultural meanings and very well matched sustainable requirements (Huang et al., 2009). In a word, an experienced designer needs to integrate and balance these different factors in material selection to ensure that the designed product will not only fulfil its functions, but produce aesthetic appeal, elicit positive user experience, and with the lowest expense of resources, energy and labour.
With complex interaction of the above-mentioned factors, general guidelines are necessary to enable designers to make an informed selection of materials. Nowadays, information resources for materials selection are tremendous, coming from material textbooks/manuals, lectures, databases, Internet, industry, and lessons from good (and bad) product examples. For instance, the Cambridge Engineering Selector (CES) developed through collaboration between Professor Mike Ashby at Cambridge University (Ashby, 1999; Goodhew, 2002) and Granta (2010), is a widely used database software which helps to identify and select materials and processes based on various engineering properties and parameters of materials. It has also been developed into different versions, one of which is tailored for students and practitioners in industrial product design. Furthermore, some well-known industrial companies have their own on-line databases of materials, such as DuPont (2010) and Distrupol (2010). However, databases from industry usually address only special material types, and due to enterprise confidentiality, may not always be free to access. Compared to the engineering and technical properties of materials, the sensory properties (colour, texture, sound, smell and taste) of materials, and their perceptual and representational meanings, are equally and significantly important but remain unsystematic and superficially explored. Information of this aspect is somewhere available, but traditionally this was addressed from the perspective of an artefact itself, not from the perspective of human-artefact ‘interaction’. In today’s technology-saturated market, understanding of how people respond to the sensory properties of materials under different conditions will help designers and engineers to select materials with more positive user-experience embedded into the product and ensure the product will match human sensory adaptation, aesthetic and perceptual expectation.
It is noticeable that, in a pragmatic situation, no reputable industrial designers work in isolation for decision-making of materials and processes selection. As Pedgley (2009) indicates, the stakeholders (clients, manufacturers/vendors, users and designers themselves) will and should have significant influences on the selection process, although they have different focus concerns. For example, users tend to focus more on perceptual and experiential aspects such as aesthetic and emotional experience, whilst manufacturers on production feasibility. In this article, the author will not differentiate the stakeholders in the perception of materials. The word ‘human’ in the term ‘human perception’ represents a general subject group. However, information discussed herein mainly aims for selecting materials/textures to match users’ expectations particularly the sensory and emotional satisfaction.
Starting with a conceptual clarification of material sensory perception, this article addresses the methodological issues raised for conducting research in this area, and introduces a database of material aesthetics and sensory perception with a focus on material textures, resulting from the author’s research work in the past years. The article also discusses how to apply the
SENSATION, PERCEPTION AND AESTHETICS
The terms sensation, perception and aesthetics are conceptually overlapped to some extent. Sensation is concerned with the first contact between an organism and its environment (Harvey, 2000). The sensations themselves refer to certain immediate, fundamental, and direct experiences, that is, the conscious awareness of qualities or attributes linked to the physical environment, such as ‘hard’, ‘rough’, ‘cold’, ‘red’, generally produced by simple, isolated physical stimuli. Potential energy signals from the environment emit light, pressure, heat, chemicals, and so on, and our sensory organs receive this energy and transform it into a bio-electric neural code that is sent to the brain. This first step in sensing the world is performed by receptor cells, which are special units that react to specific kinds of energy. For instance, specialized cells of the eye react to light energy and equally specialized cells of the tongue react to chemical molecules of compounds. In the case of materials, the sensation-related questions might be how we perceive brightness, loudness, or colour; however, the nature of the object having a given brightness, sound, or colour would not make much difference to different perceivers (Stanley et al., 1999).
Perception, on the other hand, generally refers to the result of psychological processes in which meaning, relationships, context, judgment, past experience, and memory play a role (Harvey, 2000). According to this sensation / perception distinction, a sensory question related to a material might be ‘how rough does the surface appear to be?’ whereas the perceptual questions might be, for example, ‘can you identify that surface as metallic or polymeric?’ ‘is it comfortable to touch?’ or ‘is it good for grip?’. In a more global sense, the study of perception is mainly concerned with how people form a conscious representation of the outside environment and with the accuracy of that representation. Our eyes may initially register a fleeting series of coloured images on the surface of a television screen (i.e. the work of sensation), but we see or perceive a representation of visual events with people and objects interacting spatially in a meaningful way (the work of perception).
However, in many meaningful environmental encounters it is difficult, perhaps even impossible, to make a clear distinction between sensation and perception. For example, when we hear a tune, it is hard to be initially aware of any isolated tonal qualities of the notes, such as their pitch and loudness, distinct from the melody. When we grasp a door handle or a hammer, we can hardly sense the pressure on our fingers and palm independent of how the object feels. Thus, generally, sensation and perception are unified, inseparable processes. Usually it is only in well-controlled laboratory conditions that one can initiate isolated sensations, which are distinct from meaning, context, and past experience etc.
As to aesthetics, it is usually defined as the branch of philosophy that deals with the nature and expression of beauty (Answers.com, 2010). The word beauty is commonly applied to things that are pleasing to the senses, imagination and / or understanding. It is often what an artist or a designer makes great efforts to achieve in their works, either for personal or mass interest and pleasure. However, although aesthetic experience usually
initiates from sensory stimuli (Maclagan, 2001), it does not simply equal to sensory pleasure. Aesthetics, widely speaking, can have different meanings from different perspectives of approach and study. For example, a designed and manufactured artefact can be judged as beautiful or pleasing because of its unique functions (functional aesthetics), the application of advanced technology (technological aesthetics), its fascinating form characteristics such as attractive shape, colour, texture etc (formal aesthetics), or its representation of life experience and social identity or a symbol of cultural reflection (psychological and cultural aesthetics). These aspects are twisted together in their contribution to the whole perception of product aesthetics (Figure 1).
In today’s marketplace, creating products, which not just fulfil the functional requirements but also evoke sensory pleasure and aesthetic expectation, is an increasingly developing trend, and will be facilitated by the suitable selection and combination of materials and their surface effects.
SENSORY PERCEPTION OF MATERIALS
Since it is not easy to distinguish sensation and perception, the author proposes using a united term ‘sensory perception’ to describe subjective responses to materials. In this subjective-objective interaction process, the stimuli are materials from which humans can receive sensations, from herein called ‘sensory properties’ of materials. Sensory properties, in this context, are defined as the properties that can be perceived by humans via sensory organs and can evoke physiological and psychological responses. These properties include colour, texture, sound, smell and taste. Unlike traditionally defined engineering properties or physical properties of materials, which are completely objective (this is due to the fact that these properties are specified by instrument and have widely-accepted standards of formulation and good test accuracy and repeatability), the sensory properties of materials have objective-subjective dual attributes. The objective side is referred to as the content of the sensory properties, such as a green colour or a rough texture, which exists physically. The subjective side is referred to as the interpretation of such an existing property, which results from the sensory perception initiating from the peripheral organs (eyes, skin, ears, etc.) and then processed via corresponding areas within the brain. These dual attributes make a perceived sensory property of a material depend not only on the intrinsic material features, such as the material’s physical structure, but also the differences amongst human individuals and particular environmental contexts. Therefore, the investigation into material sensory properties should be carried out holistically with a series of variables taken into consideration such as sensory modalities, user characteristics, product context and environmental conditions. However, sensory properties must at first fall within human sensory thresholds in order for them to be recognised.
Sensory properties of materials play such an important role in the perception of a product’s total image that they are actually being utilised by designers whether consciously or subconsciously. An innovative doorbell button designed by Tom Gordon and Ted Pierson is made of coloured translucent elastomeric resin with UV inhibitors, and the faceplate is satin finish anodised aluminium (Figure 2). This gives not only a function of ‘to be seen out of doors at night’, but also amiable welcoming semantics and a warm soft-touch feeling due to the attractive colour and texture of the elastomeric material. In most cases, industrial designers utilise sensory
Figure 1. The connotation of product aesthetics.
Figure 2. Doorbell button designed by Tom Gordon and Ted Pierson (1995).
properties of materials by experience, without a systematic information resource. By exploring what kind of subjective feelings (physiological or psychological responses) can be evoked in the user-product interface, and by exploring the relationship between the subjective feelings and a particular sensory property (e.g. translucency), along with the underlying parameters that objectively influence that property (e.g., refractive index), it will be possible to know how users’ sensory and perceptual expectations can be satisfied through materials selection.
METHODOLOGY FOR APPROACHING MATERIAL SENSORY PERCEPTION
Direct and indirect methodologies can be used to study material sensory perception. A direct methodology employs collecting and analyzing primary data of how people perceive materials via experiment, observation and interview, using real material samples or real product samples. Indirect methodologies originate from two perspectives. One is the theoretical deduction or modelling from related disciplines. For example, the formula by Ashby and Johnson (2002), S=EH (S represents softness, E represents modulus, H represents hardness), can be used to assess perceived softness of materials. The second perspective involves collecting and analysing secondary data regarding material perception, usually through visual media from existing sources such as magazines, books, journals and other publications where materials are represented in the form of photos or images. In this case, the data consists of the assessment of these images and how designers/users will perceive the materials and their experience of using those materials. Both direct and indirect methodologies have their advantages and disadvantages. The author’s opinion is to combine elements of both direct and indirect methodology for optimizing the quality and reliability of research data.
Information needed for approaching material sensory perception comes from three aspects. First, information about the materials: the objective data – physical properties, or physical parameters, that underlie the investigated material, for instance roughness or transparency as surface properties. Second, information about people: the subjective data - participants’ sensory responses to materials, their affective feelings and any other associations that are evoked when interacting with materials. Third, information about the relationships between subjective responses from people and the objective material information. To obtain the three aspects of information, qualitative and quantitative methods can be used separately or in conjunction, depending on different purposes and in different stages.
Objective data is comparatively easy to collect providing the necessary equipment is available and the corresponding testing conditions can be achieved. Cautions must be taken to ensure consistent measurements. For example, when measuring surface roughness by using Taylor Hobson texture equipment, the parameters such as Roughness Average (Ra) and Peak Spacing (Rsm) will significantly depend on the shape and size of the equipment probe, sampling length, measuring trace direction (if the surface is anisotropic) and other factors (Dagnall, 1997). Another example is the measurement of surface gloss by means of a gloss meter, in which case the light spot size, the reflecting angle, and the surface geometry of material samples all need to be well specified. Differing surface geometry (e.g., one flat, one curved) will result in different readings and difficult comparisons.
(Mizrach et al., 2008). Thus consistency in test conditions is a prerequisite for results to have good comparability.
Subjective data has certain complexities compared to objective data. The main challenge perhaps lies in the difficulty in quantifying the subjective responses. The essence of quantification is a numeric measurement. There exist different types of subjective responses. Taking material texture as an example, the subjective responses within the geometrical dimension and the physical-chemical dimension are the recognition of the objective attributes of the materials such as roughness, warmth, hardness etc. These attributes are essentially quantifiable by means of physical facilities, therefore it is reasonable to assume that the subjective responses to or judgment of these attributes can also be quantified. For example, given a well-defined scale, subjects can possibly feel that one particular surface is about twice as rough as another surface. Another type of subjective response is located within associative and emotional dimensions. These responses are related with past experience and memories, and are completely subjective both in content and description. In a rigorous sense, it is difficult to apply a quantitative method to measure responses such as comfort, happiness, or perception of style. This is firstly due to subjective responses being usually individually-dependent, and unstable over time, thus having poor repeatability. Other reasons include the limitations of the test methods such as the suitability and accuracy of evaluation scales, benchmarks (reference samples) etc. However, in order to explore the relationship between the two different types of responses - between the responses within geometrical, physical-chemical dimensions and those within emotional, associative dimensions - and the relationship between subjective responses and physical parameters, it is necessary to identify them in a compatibly quantitative way. Despite their non-quantifiable nature, emotional responses can still be measured technically using quasi-quantitative methods. One such method is the semantic differentiation scale. However, studies of responses within the associative dimension can only be qualitative.
To ensure the effectiveness of combining qualitative and quantitative methods in collecting subjective data on material properties, the author has developed techniques for controlled experimental research by fixing a series of conditions. These include environmental conditions (temperature, humidity, lighting etc.); well-prepared material samples (consistent grades and properties with changes in just one parameter, e.g., roughness or hardness); and conditions for sensory tests (touch methods etc.). For example, in the touch tests, issues such as ‘how to touch, passive or active?’1, ‘touch speed and force’, and ‘with or without integrity of other senses’ need to be considered.
In our own research, taking into account the modes of interaction in a retail sales context, we considered people’s hands to be the most widely used means of evaluating the tactual interface between consumers and products. Also, since our research findings were intended to be related to a practical product context - a range of hand-operated products - the texture perception tests we conducted were concerned only with touch sensed by the hand, rather than other body regions. Only active touch was investigated because in most cases, especially at the first contact with the product at the sales point, active touch may be more involved in the decision to purchase. Regarding touch speed between fingers and material surfaces, according to research of early psychologists such as Katz (1989) and William and
---
1. Passive touch refers to a touch under the condition in which the subject is stationary and the stimulus is imposed upon the skin. Active touch refers to a touch under the condition in which the stimulus is stationary and the subject actively explores an object or surface.
Emerson (1982), it seems better to adopt the middle moving speed. However, it is more important to keep the moving speed constant during all tests.
We have conducted material surface tests in two phases: a preliminary study, followed by an in-depth study. The purpose of preliminary study was to find ways in which people describe their perception of a material surface through touch. Focusing on the qualitative description of texture perception rather than the accurate touch activity itself or the perception mechanism, tests were influenced little by the limitation of factors such as using which fingers to touch, or touch speed etc. Participants were asked to touch the surface of material samples in a natural way, so that they would be more concentrated on the surface texture stimuli rather than being distracted by a particular way to touch. However, the natural way in which the participants touched the surfaces of the material samples was studied by video recording the total touch process. In-depth research has the purpose of exploring the correlation between various subjective responses to texture and the correlation between subjective responses and objective physical parameters. In this case, the fingers, the touch direction, the touch speed etc. should be kept the same for each participant and for each trial. When executing the tests, it was necessary both to set up some constraints and simultaneously let the participants feel comfortable. From the video recording, we found that index, middle, and ring fingers were the three fingers mostly and comfortably used by participants; these were adopted during the in-depth research.
In the testing of subjective response to material texture, a material surface is subjectively evaluated relative to other material surfaces. It is therefore important to set up a reference sample, i.e. the benchmark. Even if a benchmark surface is not physically presented to the participants, people actually still use a benchmark in their memory from their experience, though it will vary from individual to individual. Therefore a benchmark sample is necessary to be set up for the scale of measurement. In the present research, a piece of wood with a naturally smooth surface was selected as the reference sample, which represented a zero point of the measurement scale. The subjective scores to evaluation descriptors could therefore go in both directions (positive and negative) from the zero point.
It is worth considering the two different but related cases: materials as isolated samples and materials employed in a particular design (product) context. Using well-prepared isolated material samples can meet the requirements of both qualitative and quantitative research. On the other hand, using product samples may be suitable for qualitative evaluation research, but might be less suitable for quantitative psychophysical research as it is usually difficult to change just one variable of a material such as roughness, softness, gloss etc. The time and cost implications of this would be uneconomical as small changes to material and material surface would need to be made at the manufacturing level. Production of a particular product will be geared towards mass production rather than changes to tooling to produce a series of products varying in surface properties. However, the final goal of material sensory perception research should aim at solving practical design problems regarding materials. Contextual research within particular product contexts thus
makes considerable sense. In certain cases, there still exists appropriate ways to conduct contextual research with product samples but with a quantitative approach. The author proposes a method called ‘disassemble-reassemble’, which makes it possible to evaluate a material in a product context with the material having controlled changes in one parameter, such as roughness or gloss level. This is realised by replacing only the material/texture of certain component(s) of the product with alternative materials or textures off of the manufacturing line. For example, in a research project investigating the texture of materials used for handles of domestic appliances, we disassembled a group of kettles and replaced the handles with alternatives in different materials or finishes (this principle is illustrated in Figure 3). The approach enables a quantitative comparison between the different textures with reference to certain aspects of sensory perception such as perceived roughness, warmth, shininess etc. and the emotional feelings and associations that are stimulated by using these kettles with different handles.
**MATERIAL DATABASE**
The material database hosted at [www.material-aesthetics.com](http://www.material-aesthetics.com) is a visual narrative database that derives from the author’s research work at Southampton Solent University in the UK. It contains holistic information about the sensory perception of materials. The basic concept in building the database was to identify the factors involved in human perception of materials and to collect and illustrate the information about the interrelationship between these factors in a dynamic and systematic way. The database has a hierarchical structure, echoed in the interface which initiates from six main dimensions: human perception, material categories, sensory properties, subject groups, environmental context, and physical parameters, each coded in different colours (Figure 4). Each dimension has certain components. For example, the dimension ‘human perception’ currently has ‘visual’ and ‘tactual’ components, and will have other components ‘auditory’ and ‘olfactory’ to be added in the future. Components from different dimensions combine to form a permutation of relationship to be explored. For example, Figure 5b lists a few permutations, one of which is ‘vis-tac-tex-sebs’, representing the relationship between the texture perception of SEBS thermoplastic elastomer via the senses of vision and touch. Most of the information within the database takes the form of datasheet (Figure 5).
The information within the database addresses the following questions. What are the basic theories and information of sensory perception (perception by vision, touch, hearing, smell and taste)? How do people verbally describe the sensory properties of materials through a particular sensory route, e.g., a material’s surface texture via visual touch or blindfolded touch? What inter-relationships exist between various responses to the sensory properties? For example, how does a texture influence emotion? How will the perception of materials vary in the context of being represented in different forms of different products and environmental conditions? What relationship exists between subjective perception of materials and objective physical parameters of materials? What technological methods are required or available to realise an expected sensory property for a particular material? The following paragraphs will give more detail to some of these topics.
When facing any product that is presented in the marketplace, consumers generally may not know how the product is made. They are mainly interested in the end-quality of the product. The overall perception of quality will be directly related with the perception of the materials used in the product. Consumers make their judgement through sight, touch, hearing, smell etc. Therefore, knowing how consumers describe colour, texture, sound, aroma etc. will ensure a consistent communication language between designers and consumers and enable designers to establish criteria for a product aiming to achieve good sensory appeal. From the author’s previous research, a ‘Dimension-lexicon’ system has been proposed to summarise the description of material textures (Zuo et al., 2001). The subjective description of texture includes the following dimensions: geometrical, physical-chemical, emotional, and associative. Each dimension contains frequently used descriptors, which are termed texture ‘lexicons’. Except for those belonging to the associative dimension, lexicons usually consist of a pair of adjectives, for example, ‘smooth-rough’, ‘dense-loose’ (Figure 6).
The description of material properties can be dependent on different conditions such as age, gender, cultural background and sensory modalities. For example, the description of a material surface texture by touch can be different from a description gained visually solely from the perception of an image. Furthermore, the description under visual touch conditions can be different from that under blindfold touch conditions. Previous research revealed that vision could increase the response to geometrical configuration, and enrich and strengthen the emotional feelings, whilst the removal of vision and reliance purely on touch can increase people’s sensitiveness to some physical-chemical characteristics such as warmth, moisture and hardness (Zuo et al., 2001).
**Correlation Between Different Subjective Responses**
Subjective responses tend not to be isolated but correlated between each other. For example, to some extent, a perceived ‘rough’ texture, compared to a ‘smooth’ one, tends to correspond with the feeling of ‘non-shiny’, ‘warm’, and ‘non-sticky’. These responses within the geometrical dimension and the physical-chemical dimension also have correlations with responses within the emotional dimension (Zuo et al., 2004). The emotional response to a material’s texture was defined as people’s affective, hedonic and valuable feelings, which are evoked by sensing/touching the material surface. Generally speaking, the sensory responses themselves within the geometrical dimension and the physical-chemical dimension can be regarded as ‘neutral’. For instance, it is hard to say whether ‘smooth’ or ‘rough’ is either a good or bad attribute. To decide which particular surface attribute is preferred (e.g., ‘smooth’ or ‘rough’) will depend upon a number of considerations, one of which is how these geometrical responses or physical-chemical responses affect the functional operation of the product in which the material is used. That is, how the surface attributes influence users’ performance or operation with a product (e.g. grip, push, sit, walk etc.).
Another consideration is how geometrical responses or physical-chemical responses correlate with emotional responses: will a certain surface texture stimulate a positive emotional response? Information about these correlations is also available in the database. For example, the experimental results reveal that the surface texture attribute that mostly correlates with a positive feeling is shininess, i.e., a ‘lively / cheerful’ response mostly corresponds to a ‘shiny’ surface. This is consistent for different material categories and under both visual touch and blindfold touch conditions (although, when people are blindfolded, a shiny sensation is derived...
from an illusion) (Zuo et al., 2005). Practical examples can be found in the design of a computer mouse. A ‘lively/cheerful’ feeling can be elicited by using a ‘shiny’ ceramic-like sphere, or a single curved shiny polymer case. Compare this to the traditional non-shiny plastic mouse, which seems to be dull. However, such kind of correlation can be quite complex, due to three factors: 1) different emotional responses may correspond to different perceived surface attributes, whilst one certain perceived surface attribute may correspond to a variety of emotional responses to differing degrees; 2) an amendment needs to be considered due to the difference in either direction or strength between varying statistical analysis methods, e.g., Pearson correlation and partial correlation; and 3) for different materials and under different sensory conditions, results may be different.
Further, such kind of correlation needs always to be re-examined when used in any design context, as various contexts can weaken, strengthen, or totally change the correlation. Usually, environmental contexts play an important role in emotions. For example, if you hear a frightening sound when you are alone and in the dark, your level of fear will increase. If you touch a strange and unpleasant object in a primitive forest rather than in a museum, your level of fear will also increase. This means the correlation between emotional responses and outside stimuli are dynamic and complicated. However, it still makes sense to seek some general phenomena about the correlation between emotional responses and the perceived surface attributes of materials, even if under controlled conditions and with material samples. The results of such research will serve as reference for designers to select materials or textures for any new product development where no existing products can be used as a reference.
**Cross-Sensory Interaction in Texture Perception**
Texture can usually be perceived via the sense of vision and touch. However, when applied singularly, both vision and touch have their limitation in texture perception. Vision usually provides more information on the global impression of texture, but will depend upon the viewing field and distance, and may not reveal the real situation of the nature of an object or material with regard to its three-dimensional features such as roughness, warmth, moisture, abrasiveness, softness, etc. Touch can more subtly explore the local, tiny features of a surface or the body of a material/object. The tactual feelings of materials may be regarded as more honest and richer than the feeling gained by vision. However, when vision is blocked while touching, the identification of objects/materials on a global basis can be impeded or become slow, as dominant information that contributes to our memory is obtained via our sense of vision. On the other hand, visual judgement of texture can cheat our other senses, which sometimes is called visual illusion. But it is this visual illusion that can be, and has continually been, utilised as a tool to produce fascinating effects when vision is the main channel for users to engage with a product. In the case of tactual perception, most tactual feeling cannot be specified unless you are engaged with the material/object in an interactive mode. It is rarely the case to feel a texture by a static touch on the surface without any movement. Full experience of a texture will require twisting, pressing, squeezing, or knocking the object or material.
With regard to the interaction between vision and touch in texture perception, from the author’s experimental research, it was found that, qualitatively, good consistency exists between visual touch and blindfold
touch in texture perception; whilst, quantitatively, differences lie in the sensitivity of subjective responses to material textures and the strength of the correlation between those responses (Zuo, 2003). It is proposed that this result is not casual as it can be explained by existing and other emerging related theories. Evidence from neural science reveals that visual cortical involvement (and presumably, visual imagery) may facilitate tactile judgments about ‘macro-geometric’ object features such as orientation, shape and size, but not ‘micro-geometric’ features such as surface texture, which depend on the size of constituent elements and their spacing (Zangaladze et al., 1999). Therefore it is understandable why most of the texture perception results in this research were found to be similar under both visual touch and blindfold touch conditions.
Usually, designers are sophisticated in identifying materials/textures for a product that have visual appeal, but are less competent or sometimes ignorant in satisfying other senses, for example, touch. This is why, in recent years, in-depth research into subjective responses or feelings to various materials via other senses, particularly touch and sound, has become increasingly prominent.
**Relationships Between Subjective Responses and Physical Parameters**
The previous sections of this article focused on the subjective aspects of material/texture perception. On the other hand, there usually exist certain physical properties of materials that underlie or correspond to those subjective descriptions. Understanding the relationships between objective measures of those properties and subjective responses can help pinpoint particular manufacturing processes to create desirable material properties, which correspond to an optimised or balanced mixture of positive user feelings. Such a goal has potentially great significance in the new product development process.
This type of research can be traced back to the stream of psychophysics, the oldest branch of psychology that particularly explores the relationship between the physical and mental worlds. It should be pointed out that traditional psychophysical research focuses on two variables, of which one is physical, and the other is psychological (Figure 7). In addition to this ‘one to one’ relationship, a ‘one to more’ or ‘more to one’ relationship is also worth exploring, as long as this kind of relationship exists. For example, the psychological feeling of a surface’s moisture could be related to a number of physical factors, such as different materials with different surface energy, or the same type of materials with different surface roughness, or the same type of materials but with different softness (Figure 7, Part B). On the other hand, one physical parameter, e.g. physical
---
Figure 7. Types of psychophysical relationships for materials.
roughness, can correspond to a number of psychological feelings, e.g. subjective roughness, stickiness, warmth (Figure 7, Part C).
**Representative Meanings of Materials**
In addition to the sensory properties of materials, the representative meanings of materials, cultural connotation, metaphors, and other associations also play important roles in material perception. However, the boundaries between material sensory properties (attributable to sensation) and representative meanings (attributable to perception) may be ambiguous. For example, texture seems just to be a sensory property, but our research has revealed people’s description of a texture goes beyond the surface geometrical configuration and physical-chemical attributes, to include the expression of emotional and associative feelings. An analysis of the descriptive words given for a material surface such as moist, sticky, shiny, cold, comfortable, cheerful, oily, orangy, and mirror-like’, reveals a combination of what people sense initially by their organs (eyes, skin, etc.) and what they perceive mentally including association via memory recall.
People’s experience with either a whole product or a material used in a product is multi-faceted. Desmet and Hekkert (2007) identified three distinct levels of product experience: aesthetic experience, experience of meaning, and emotional experience. It is indicated that even though these three components of an experience can be clearly conceptually separated, they are very much intertwined and often difficult to distinguish in our everyday experience, and one particular experience may activate other experiences. This kind of relationship can also be recognised in the case of material or texture perception, as a sub-domain of product perception. Among the four dimensions of texture description, the descriptions within the geometrical and physical-chemical dimensions tend to be more sensory or aesthetics-based; the descriptions within the emotional and associative dimensions correspond to emotional experience and experience of meanings respectively. And as with products, the kinds of experiences to be gained from material samples are considerably intertwined. For example, as mentioned previously, the author’s research based on studies of isolated material samples and within consumer product contexts such as hairdryers indicated that a ‘shiny’ surface (sensory and aesthetic experience) corresponds to ‘cheerful/lively’ feelings (emotional experience); or a ‘black shiny’ plastic surface (sensory or aesthetic experience) evokes the associative feeling of ‘high-class’ or ‘high-quality black cars’ (experience of meanings); or a ‘metallic’ ‘grey’ or ‘smooth’ plastic surface (sensory or aesthetic experience) is associated with ‘hi-fi’ or a ‘space gun’ (experience of meanings) (Zuo, 2005).
The relationship between a material and a product is similar to the relationship between an actor and the role played by the actor. Even before a material has been processed into a product form, it can still have a character, though sometimes this kind of perception is a little ambiguous: “…a sort of embedded personality, a shy one, not always visible, easily concealed or disguised, but one that, when appropriately manipulated, can contribute to good design” (Ashby and Johnson, 2002, 76). For example, iron and steel represent industrialisation, a hard, heavy, cold or cool impression; wood gives the feelings of warmth, soft, nature, domesticity; leather represents luxury, grace, elegance; marble magnificence, nobleness, etc. This is also apparent in the case of material colour. Colours can have some general connotations even without a specified application context. For example, the colour red can usually be associated with a number of
emotional feelings such as strength, power, energy, passion, enthusiasm, courage, love, vigour, sexuality. However, although some of the emotional feelings and meanings of colours are universal, in many cases, they are culturally dependent. For instance, a large difference exists between Chinese and Western cultures for the associative meanings and use of red, black, and white. Red means good luck in China while Westerners associate red with a sporting spirit. White flowers in the front of a car in China represent a funeral; whilst in Europe it is usually associated with weddings. It is also conceivable that differences may exist between different cultures for the associative meanings attributed to different materials and textures. Cross-cultural material sensory perception is an area of work in need of further exploration.
Perceived meanings and associations tend to vary with different people, different contexts and over different time periods. For example, whether a material or product is perceived as ‘modern’ in response to a ‘shiny’ or a ‘non-shiny’ surface will probably be dependent on the age of the person, their cultural background, product category and the environment in which the product is used. As another example, at the beginning of 20th century, plastics were perceived as symbols of progress, modernity and democracy, which made them so popular that some materials including iron, wood and leather were replaced by plastic in many applications. Later, most of the common thermoplastics such as PVC, PE, PP and PMMA, along with thermosets such as PF/Bakelite, were taken for granted as their widespread use was witnessed throughout domestic appliances. However, people’s perception of plastic keeps evolving, from the concept of plastics as cheap, ugly and easily broken, to that of being suited for use in high technology applications. Plastics now present a wide range of new categories with extended functions, strengthened technical properties and improved/diversified sensory properties. Put briefly, understanding the representational and associative meanings of materials and textures can help guide the selection of appropriate materials and textures for a new product design. These activities may be tailored towards one of two perspectives: designing particular ‘culture-centred’ products, or designing products with a fusion of multi-cultural influences that could be suited to more generic and global markets.
INTEGRATION OF MATERIALS RESOURCES INTO INDUSTRIAL DESIGN EDUCATION
In industrial design education, within a limited period of time, delivering knowledge of materials and processes to students and training their ability to select materials in a comprehensive manner remains a serious challenge. Generally, there are two ways of teaching materials: one is following the route from microstructure to macro-application, which is a science-led methodology; the other is following the route from macro-requirement to a specific material with a particular microstructure, which is design-led (Ashby et al., 2007). It is reasonable to assume that for industrial design, the second way will be more effective and efficient.
Design is a form of highly innovative practice-based activity. This determines that teaching materials in design would be more effective if students were engaged in an experimental or exploratory context, with the chance to participate in hands-on activities with materials. This would stimulate their curiosity, interest, and inspiration in knowledge-learning and solution-finding of problems. Figure 8 shows product design students
at Southampton Solent University attending the author’s research in both sensory tests of material samples and contextual studies of consumer products. The material samples used in the experiments were collected for display in a physical material library located in the Design Studio at the University. Simultaneously, the research results of material sensory perception further expanded the students’ knowledge about various materials.
As vision is such a dominant modality of information source in people’s daily life, other sensory modalities seem to be non-sufficiently utilized. This remains a potentially large space for designers to expand multi-sensory solutions to design problems. It is necessary to consciously strengthen the integration of multi-sensory appeal of materials in design teaching. The author attended interesting materials-based workshops co-organized by MADE (Materials And Design Exchange), RCA (Royal College of Art), and IOM3 (Institute of Materials, Minerals, and Mining), such as the one shown in Figure 9. The experiment sessions in Figure 9a and b involved perception of materials via vision, touch, hearing, smell and taste, and involved interactions with daily objects and associated mental imagery. This was similar in methodology and content as the associative dimension of texture description from the author’s research, but extended beyond just the tactual domain. It would be valuable to promote this kind of materials exploration within industrial design education.
In addition to experimental and exploratory interaction with materials, integrating various resources of materials information also significantly facilitates materials teaching. The author has tried to combine the Cambridge Engineering Selector (CES) and the Material-Aesthetics database as effective tools in teaching. Usually, CES is used as an assistant for pinpointing a few material candidates at the early stage of a project, where logical thinking deduction on functional and technical requirements dominates the materials selection process. In contrast, the Material-Aesthetics database is promoted as an assistant for deciding which texture or surface finish (with regard to roughness, shininess, hardness, warmth etc.) would be most appropriate for a particular material, where lateral thinking, synthesis and association are the focus. For example, in a student project to design an electric kettle, an initial selection of handle materials suggested wood, polypropylene, and stainless steel as candidates.
Considering comfort of grip, thermoplastic elastomer (TPE) was chosen as an additional material to cover the handle or a part of handle. Under the conditions of low cost, lightweight, and sustainability, a polypropylene with elastomer touch pad was selected for the handle. At the next stage of identifying a specific TPE, guidelines were obtained from the Material-Aesthetics database: was it a case of ‘the softer the better’ for a TPE? The answer was ‘no’. A texture perception map of TPE indicates that the middle-range of shore hardness between 20A to 90A, in this case, around 45A of Santoprene TPE, corresponds to a balanced requirement for both grip (soft, resistant, non-sticky) and emotional feelings (comfort, safe and elegance), as shown in Figure 10.
In addition, the aforementioned physical library of material samples provides students with a platform where they can view, touch and smell the material samples directly, and can stimulate their creative thinking and improve their selection decisions. Although the selection of materials within the classroom can still be preliminary, because there will be more practical issues such as moulding cost and compatibility to consider, as a fundamental training of material selection for design students, the methodology has proved to be effective.
It is also highly important to synergize research, learning and enterprise into materials and design education, collectively forming three blades of a metaphorical fan. At Southampton Solent University, tests of materials used in product contexts are conducted in collaboration with industrial
Figure 10. Combining the CES and material-aesthetics databases in teaching materials for design.
Figure 11. Example of contextual study of material sensory perception for industry.
partners who provide their existing domestic products such as kettles, hairdryers and irons. The results of materials/textures evaluation and analysis for these consumer products are taken as a reference for modifying existing products or for new product development within the companies. Figure 11 shows one such project for a leading British company supplying hairdryers. At Tsinghua University, partnerships with material industries have been continually strengthened. In a recent design competition project in collaboration with Lucite International China, student participants were required to use acrylic to achieve a design innovation. The main sensory property of acrylics utilised by the students were transparency, or varying degree of transparency (from opaque, translucent, through to transparent) and texture effects when blended with other mineral substances. Figure 12 shows the award-winning student designs from the 2009 project event. Through such an event, students have obtained in-depth knowledge about acrylic and its forming processes, whilst the industrial partner effectively promoted its brand and developed a strong basis for further collaboration in material research and design.
CONCLUSION
In parallel to material engineering and technical properties, material sensory properties such as colour, texture, sound, and smell, and the representative or associative meanings of materials, linked to human emotional feelings, play an equally important role in materials selection for products. The ideal methodology for approaching research into material sensory perception should be to combine both direct and indirect methods, with materials presented and examined as both isolated samples and product examples. An on-line material database (www.material-aesthetics.com) developed from the author’s research results contains key information about material sensory perception, namely: 1) subjective descriptions of material textures (geometrical dimension, physical-chemical dimension, emotional dimension, and associative dimension); 2) correlations between different subjective responses to material textures; 3) quantitative relationships between subjective responses and material physical parameters; 4) cross-sensory interaction in texture perception, e.g., vision-touch comparisons; 5) a number of material texture perception maps organized by material categories and sensory modalities; and 6) information on material sensory perception within industrial product contexts.
Further research is on-going. Teaching of materials in industrial design, if it is to be effective, should encourage experimental and exploratory
interaction with materials, whilst integrating logic and lateral thinking by utilizing various resources and tools, such as the Cambridge Engineering Selector and Material-Aesthetics database.
REFERENCES
İNSAN DUYUMUNA UYABİLECEK MALZEME SEÇİMİNİ YAPMAK VE ENDÜSTRİYEL TASARIMDA ESTETİK BEKLENTİ
Günümüz endüstriyel tasarım pratiği ve eğitiminde, malzeme seçimi yapmak ve malzeme bileşenleri hazırlamak açısından farklı bilgi ve enformasyon kaynaklarının bütünlüğünü sağlamak oldukça önemlidir. Malzemeye yapılan estetik atıflar ve malzememin duyumsal ya da algısal özellikleri, malzememin mühendislik ve teknik özelliklerine göre aynı önemde fakat daha az incelenen bir konu olmuştur. Bu makale kuramsal ve deneysel araştırmaya dayanarak malzeme estetiği ve duyumsal algı konusundaki asal içeriği ortaya koymakta ve bu alanda yapılacak araştırmaların yöntemi üzerinde durmaktadır. Yazida ayrıca yazarın dokuma malzemeler üzerine yaptığı araştırmalar dayanarak bir malzeme estetiği veritabanı oluşturulmaktadır. Araştırma sonuçlarının endüstride yeni ürün geliştirmede nasıl referans olarak kullanılacağı ve bu sonuçların başka kaynaklarla birleştirilerek tasarım eğitiminde malzeme özelliklerinin öğretimini için nasıl kullanılabileceği anlatılmaktadır.
HENGFENG ZUO; M.A., M.Sc., Ph.D.
Currently Associate Professor in Industrial Design at Tsinghua University, Beijing. He is a collaborator of Piccinato Design based in Milan, a member of IOM3, and Design Research Society, UK. His research interests include materials selection, sensory perception, design aesthetics and emotional design. hfzuo@tsinghua.edu.cn |
Sun Bank Center
T. Douglas Ferguson
Clemson University
Follow this and additional works at: https://tigerprints.clemson.edu/arch_tp
Recommended Citation
https://tigerprints.clemson.edu/arch_tp/46
Sun Bank Center
T. Douglas Ferguson
May, 1986
A terminal project submitted to the Faculty of the College of Architecture, Clemson University, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Architecture.
Approved:
[Signatures redacted]
Committee Member
[Signatures redacted]
Committee Member
[Signatures redacted]
Committee Member
[Signatures redacted]
Committee Chairman
[Signature]
Head, Department of Architectural Studies
[Signature]
Dean, College of Architecture
For Kim whose support has made all of this possible.
Since the opening of Disney World in 1971, the Central Florida region surrounding Orlando has experienced rapid growth. Unfortunately, little of the growth has taken place in the city center. In recent years efforts have been directed to reverse this trend. Streetscape and landscaping have been added and new construction encouraged. The Sun Bank Center will be the first large scale project in downtown Orlando.
The complex is to be a symbol for Sun Bank, a small town bank that through rapid growth now finds itself the second largest bank in Florida. The Bank's current building is on the corner of Orange Avenue (the major business street) and Church Street. The Bank's first building, now occupied by a community college is on the adjacent corner. Present plans call for the renovation of the present building and the construction of an additional 325,000 sq ft for Sun Bank use. In addition the developer has asked for another 325,000 sq ft of leasable office space.
Presently existing on the site is Beardall Park which is quite poor visually but has the historical significance of being the site of Orlando's first public school and then city hall. The result of a public hearing on the future of Beardall Park was to include a new public park in the development.
Another interesting factor is the Church Street Station development adjacent to the project, which has become a major tourist attraction.
It is important that the design for the Sun Bank Center be such that will encourage further development in the downtown. This provides the project with some potentially exciting urban design issues. It will be my goal in examining these issues and developing a design to better understand the impact of a major development on a central business district.
I would like to thank and recognize all the people who helped to make this semester a success:
My Committee for their support, guidance, and criticism;
My Committee Chairman, Prof. Yugi Kishimoto, for challenging me to discover how to say Orlando at you;
The Houston Office of Skidmore, Owings, Merrill for providing valuable information. The Orlando Downtown Development Commission and planning firm Glattino, Sellen, Lopez, Anglin, Inc.
Special thanks to:
Kathryn Horne
Russell Anderson
Anne Blakely
Dean Trakas
Kim Ferguson
TABLE OF CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
Dedication ........................................... i
Abstract ............................................ ii
Problem Statement .................................. 1
BACKGROUND
Central Florida Overview .......................... 4
Orlando History ..................................... 9
The City Beautiful .................................. 15
Sun Bank History ................................... 18
DESIGN PROCESS
Case Studies ......................................... 20
Setting: Downtown Orlando ....................... 27
The Sun Bank Center ................................ 28
Image Studies ....................................... 35
DESIGN PROPOSAL
Design Solution ...................................... 41
Graphic Presentation ............................... 44
FOOTNOTES ........................................
BIBLIOGRAPHY ......................................
"Build your community and you build your bank."
Linton E. Allen - Founder of Sun Bank
Despite the migration of many businesses due to the Disney Complex 30 miles south, Orlando still maintains a vital and attractive downtown business district. The older, somewhat historic, residential districts still partially encompass downtown and provide a wonderful containing element. Ready access to downtown from all of Central Florida is possible by Interstate 4 and the Orlando East-West Expressway. The Church Street Station development located in downtown, has become a major Central Florida tourist attraction. Several downtown street festivals during the past few years have demonstrated public interest in the future of downtown Orlando.
Sun Bank Center when completed will be the first major commitment to downtown Orlando. This active interaction between Orlando and Sun Bank is appropriate due to the long history of cooperation between the bank and its city. Its size, location, and functions will
make Sun Bank the most important ingredient in the urban fabric. Because of this the design of Sun Bank will become synonymous with Orlando.
Sun Bank Center offers the opportunity to explore several exciting architectural issues. The design of the high-rise has become a major topic facing today's architects. As Sun Bank will be the first high-rise in Orlando, the manner in which it solves this issue is especially important.
Sun Bank Center will contain a high-rise office building, retail activities, a 350-room businessmen's hotel, and a large parking garage. The impact an urban context of this scale will have on the existing downtown is another design aspect. The scale of downtown Orlando is predominately five to six stories. Much of downtown lies within a historic district and therefore this scale can be expected to persist.
As this thesis project develops Sun Bank Center will provide opportunities for explorations of all of these issues. The issues of particular interest are: an exploration of highway architecture, building as a
sign, impact of a large center on downtown, and revitalization of a downtown retail district. One city official has referred to the completed center as the signature of the Orlando skyline. The image this signature projects becomes the crux of the design problem. It is important that the solution combines the interest of the city with the interest of Sun Bank, successfully answering questions of image and function in such a manner as to enhance the revitalization efforts in downtown Orlando.
Background
central florida overview
Although Florida was claimed by the Spanish explorer, Ponce de Leon, in 1513, it would be three hundred years before the Central Florida region surrounding present day Orlando would be settled. Encounters with native Indians and the inhospitality of much of the land prevented prior settlement. In 1821 the Adams-Omis treaty ceded Florida from Spain to the United States and initiated the beginnings of the Central Florida region.
By the middle of the 19th century, skirmishes with the remaining Indian tribes had all but ended, and the first real influx of settlers began arriving in the Central Florida area. In 1855 the town of Orlando was established and became the county seat for the surrounding territory.
Though Central Florida continued to attract settlers, growth slowed during the turbulent years of the Civil War. A traveler to the region would have found an environment similar in many aspects to life in the American West. Growth intensified
following the war as many Southern families migrated south to escape the disruption associated with the Reconstruction Period.
The first real population boom occurred in the Central Florida region during the 1880's. Responsible for most of this growth were extensive advertising campaigns aimed to attract visitors with possibilities of available land and year round balmy temperatures. The citrus industry became almost immediately the backbone of Central Florida's economy.
Associated with the growth in the citrus industry were the beginnings of the tourist industry which would later prove so important to the Central Florida region. The warm climate attracted many visitors from the North, and grand hotels were common throughout the region. Citrus growers seeking methods to protect themselves from years of poor harvests were also interested in developing a tourist industry. Excellent hunting and fishing throughout the region provided another attraction for the visitors.
Although Central Florida continued to grow
steadily, the early 1950's found the character of the region quite similar to the early 1900's. Citrus farming and tourism remained the predominant industries. In 1956, however, the Martin Company later to become Martin Marietta bought 7,300 acres southwest of Orlando. The arrival of the Martin Company created 8,000 jobs and marked the awakening of the Central Florida communities. In less than two years after its opening, 72 new businesses had been established in the region. Central Florida had begun the rapid growth it would experience for the next thirty years.
In 1965 the most important chain of events in Central Florida's history was about to unfold. A mysterious buyer had purchased some 27,000 acres of farm land southwest of Orlando. The buyer was Walt Disney; and with an announcement, on November 15, 1965, concerning the creation of Walt Disney World, the destiny of Central Florida was permanently altered. Land values soared immediately, and developers began planning for the hotels, restaurants, and service stations needed to support a major tourist attraction.
The impact on Central Florida was phenomenal. In its first two years of operation, Walt Disney World attracted 20 million visitors to the region, pumped 3.2 billion dollars into the economy, and employed more than 13,000 people. In the wake of Disney's success, more tourist attractions, most notably Sea World and Disney's Epcot, have been located in Central Florida.
Along with the growth in the tourist industry came a substantial growth in population. The results of this were the interlocking of small communities into one metropolis. The growth that began with tourism spread into other areas as well. In 1981 and 1982 over 100 firms announced plans to relocate or expand their businesses.
Today, Central Florida is a diversified region encompassing major tourist attractions, agricultural industries, and major corporation headquarters. Throughout the growth the area has maintained the elements which first made it attractive during the 19th century. Available land and opportunities
combined with a temperate climate still make the Central Florida region an attractive place to live and to visit.
Central Florida Region
SUN BANK CENTER
Central Florida Region
SR 426
SEMNOLE CO
ORANGE CO
ORLANDO
WINTER PARK
15A
ORLANDO
NORTHWEST
SANDY LAKE ROAD
50
441
4
With Central Florida's first population boom in the 1880's, the city of Orlando began to take shape. The first five years of the 1880's saw the small village grow to become the center of the region. An advertisement for the city acknowledged the growth as:
phenomenal as there are no oil wells, factories, or mines, the population depending entirely on its orange groves, truck gardens and unrivaled climate. Orlando is built on the peel of the orange.²
The arrival of the railroad in 1880 spurred much of the development. The original depot was located near the present day intersection of Church Street and Orange Avenue. As businesses and social facilities were established surrounding the depot, the Church Street-Orange Avenue intersection became the focal point of the developing downtown.
From a town of 200 people and 6 stores in 1860, Orlando grew to include 50 stores, 5 large hotels, an opera house, two newspapers and numerous other activities by 1866.
Especially important were the hotels which played a vital part in the tourist industry. The largest and most popular of the downtown hotels was the San Juan de Ulloa. The businesses located on its main floor and the excellent restaurant became a favorite spot for Orlandoans as well as tourists.
The character of downtown Orlando reflected much of the "western" attitude of the Central Florida region. Saturday afternoon would often find crowds watching a local cowboy wrestling alligators on Orange Avenue. As the importance of the citrus industry continued to grow, Orlando became the shipping and financial center for the region. The years between 1910 and 1917 saw the amount of citrus acreage for the region more than double, thus strengthening the importance of Orlando.
As the importance of the city grew so did its population. By 1920 Orlando boasted a population of over 20,000. Closely related to the growth of the city was the development of the highway system. Significant in attracting visitors was the decision
to locate the Dixie Highway through Orlando. The Dixie Highway was the major tourist thoroughfare into Florida. As the influx of travelers to the city increased, so did construction in downtown Orlando. To accommodate the visitors, dozens of new hotels were added along Orange Avenue, and in addition several skyscrapers were built. Two such buildings were the Orlando Bank and Trust and the State Bank and Trust Company. When the 10-story State Bank building was completed in 1922, Orlando Bank followed immediately with a slightly taller structure of its own. It is interesting to note the competition for the skyline shared by banks during the early years of Orlando, a spirit which still persists today. Also notable is the precedent for luxury hotels along Orange Avenue, a phenomena that regrettably has ended.
It was not until the end of World War II that Orlando again experienced any substantial periods of growth. The space and missile industry, marked by companies such as the Martin Company and the United States Missle Test Center at Cape Canaveral, brought
many employees to the Central Florida region. The majority of these employees settled in the residential districts in and surrounding Orlando. In response to this, the downtown district expanded with numerous new businesses and hotels.
By the early sixties, however, it was evident that Orlando was suffering the plight experienced by many American cities. Although the city continued to grow, much of this growth was directed toward the suburbs. As malls were built, many downtown businesses closed their doors and relocated nearer to their customers. The move toward the suburbs weakened the base of downtown by drawing away its businesses. In addition the growth occurring in the suburbs was over land which had previously been used for citrus farming. Although the development on these lands created new jobs and amenities, the environment of a farming community no longer existed. The disassociation of Orlando with the outlying farming communities may have reached its final point in 1978 when the last remaining citrus grove on Orange Avenue was bulldozed
and replaced by a supermarket.
Although the arrival of the Disney Corporation in the 1960's had a major impact on Central Florida and the metropolis of Orlando, any positive effect on the downtown district was unnoticeable. The Disney complex created a tourist center 30 miles southwest of Orlando and dissolved any real need for visitor accommodations in the downtown. It was beneficial to the city, however, that Interstate 4, the major route to Disney, was designed to pass immediately adjacent to downtown. As with the Dixie Highway before it, the routing of Interstate 4 insured Orlando a place on the major tourist axis through Florida.
Recently there has been a resurgence of growth in the downtown district. Presently there are over 3 million square feet of office space in downtown and more under construction. As companies are encouraged to locate their offices downtown, retail activities geared toward the office workers are also established. Revitalization and renovation efforts have resulted in Church Street Station, a collection of bars and
restaurants which have become Central Florida's fourth largest tourist attraction. This and the efforts of the Downtown Development Corporation are beginning to create a downtown environment which does not close at 6 p.m. A major project to upgrade Orange Avenue with streetscaping elements and several other downtown projects, such as an addition to the library, public parking garages and an Orange County administration building, have just recently been completed. With the addition of private projects, such as the proposed Sun Bank Center, downtown Orlando and Orange Avenue especially, the intersection of Orange and Church will again become the focus of a progressive and exciting city.
Downtown Orlando today is a mixture of historic buildings dating back to the 1880's and new high-rise office structures. The interaction of these diverse elements has created both positive and negative effects. Until only recently, downtown Orlando consisted primarily of low-rise and mid-rise buildings. In the early 1970's, the first high-rise building, the 18-story CNA Tower, was completed. Since that time, approximately 10 additional towers have been added to the downtown. These towers provide the majority of the office space so important in downtown revitalization efforts.
One of the most important elements in downtown is the Church Street Station mentioned in an earlier section. This development provides the obvious benefit of an exciting nightlife and a major draw to downtown. In addition, Church Street Station has, by example, demonstrated the possibilities of renovation. Since the success of Church Street Station, numerous other renovation projects have been undertaken. Most notable of
these is along Pine Street where a two-block area of turn-of-the-century buildings has been renovated. A sizeable portion of downtown lies within Orlando's historic district which has aided in encouraging renovation projects.
Transportation to and from downtown is provided primarily by Interstate 4, which runs north and south through the region, and by the East-West Expressway. Efforts to alleviate traffic problems downtown have resulted in the construction of a public parking garage and the operation of a shuttle service from a commuter lot on the outskirts of downtown. There are also several privately owned and operated parking garages in the area.
Public space in the city consists of the Lake Eola Park, Beardall Park, and the plaza to the Barnett Building. Though Lake Eola Park is quite beautiful, the Barnett Plaza is perhaps the most popular, possibly due to its location in the heart of downtown. This would seem to indicate a need for public space in the midst of the business district.
The condition of Beardall Park will be discussed in subsequent sections.
As downtown Orlando begins a new growth surge, it is important that developers are sensitive to the fabric of small-scale historic buildings. The fabric has already been threatened with new office towers either built or underway. Careful blending of these elements, along with the injunction of an active nightlife, should create the environment for which downtown Orlando strives.
Downtown Orlando
sun bank history
Sun Bank was founded in 1934 as the First National Bank at Orlando. Over the past fifty years, it has grown to become the second largest bank in the State of Florida. In spite of its growth in size, Sun Bank, Inc. still strives to maintain its image of a "hometown bank with hometown concerns." The bank continues to follow the philosophy of Sun Bank's founder Linton E. Allen: "Build your community and you build your bank."
The execution of this philosophy has been demonstrated by the numerous community projects with which Sun Bank has been associated. In 1964 the Bank was instrumental in founding the campus for the University of Central Florida. The following year Sun Bank represented an anonymous buyer interested in purchasing 27,000 acres southwest of Orlando. This property would later become Walt Disney World. At the same time the Bank organized efforts to relocate the routes of Interstate 4 and the Florida Turnpike closer to Orlando. Sun Bank has also been instrumental in
bringing Martin Marietta Aerospace Industry to Orlando and in financing the Orlando International Airport.
The decision to locate the Sun Bank Center in downtown Orlando is further evidence of Sun Bank's commitment to the city. Orlando's mayor, Bill Fredrick, acknowledged the importance of this decision:
Sun Bank is the most substantial single development in the history of the city, and without a doubt will enhance in magnificent style the character of the entire downtown area. The project is a dramatic show of confidence by Sun Bank in the future of Orlando and symbolically underscores the rapidly advancing opportunities for all the people of Central Florida.
Design Process
Trying to make Orlando Art for you
case studies
The skyscraper and the twentieth century are synonymous; the tall building is the landmark of our age. Shaper of cities and fortunes it is the dream, past and present, of almost every architect... The skyscraper is not only the building of the century, it is also the single work of architecture that can be studied as the embodiment and expression of much that makes the century what it is. For better or worse, it is a measure of our consumer and corporate culture. The tall building probes our collective psyche as it probes the sky.6
Since the beginning of this century, architects have searched for a skyscraper style. The results of these searches have been varied, each solution embodying the forces of its time. However, no other building type can command the prominence and strength of the skyscraper. For the corporations building and occupying the building, these elements become most important. The imagery projected by the tall building will reflect greatly on how the corporation is perceived. Therefore a proper solution for a tall building should project an imagery which describes its occupants.
In a similar fashion, tall buildings have often had the opportunity to address not only themselves but the entire city as well. Where because of location...
or size the structure is especially dominant, the building may become synonymous with the perception of the city. When this happens the architect has the responsibility to create a design through which the building might speak favorably of its city. Many buildings in the past have responded to this challenge and through their designs have created imagery strong enough to become symbols of cities.
The vertical or perpendicular style of the twenties and thirties addressed the issues of skyscraper design with enormous energy. Perhaps no other building types in recent history have sought an integration of image and architecture as these solutions. Raymond Hood's American Radiator Building, New York City, 1924, is an excellent example of this integration. American Radiator was a producer of furnaces and heaters. Hood conceived the building as an advertisement for the company. This is accomplished by abstracting furnace forms as the ornamentation for the top of the building. This effect is heightened by cladding this ornamentation in gold terracotta in contrast to
the darkness of the building's body. At night the top is lit by flood lights so that the building, in effect, "glows like a torch." Hood's solution has most definitely produced a building whose imagery is symbolic of its occupant.
Two buildings which have been able to become synonymous with their cities are the Chrysler Building, New York, 1930; and the Empire State Building, New York, 1931. Both at the time of their completion were the tallest buildings in the world. Each was also able to dominate the skyline of New York. The strong imagery at the tops of these buildings allows them to sign the skyline, signatures which through time have become instantly recognizable as symbols of New York. The Art Deco styling of Chrysler's crown is particularly adept at this. Housed within the crown were Walter Chrysler's duplex apartment, gymasium, "Cloud Club," and an observatory. This placed the executive functions of the building within an area which is highly visible and articulated.
From the decoration and imagery of the Art Deco
period, architecture passed to the logic and simplicity of the Modern Movement and its "glass box." Perhaps the best example of the principles embodied in the glass box can be found in Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill's Lever House, New York City, 1951. Although the Lever House does not respond to questions of imagery and signature as its predecessors, it helped to usher in new thoughts on office building design. The advent of the curtain wall became an important element in creating leaseable open plan office space. In addition technical advances in thermal comfort and lighting were developed.
Despite the benefits of the glass box, cities soon began to become crowded with seemingly identical buildings. The lack of image these buildings projected caused them to lose any significant connections with the occupants or the city. The result of this was the creation of anonymous skylines. To the motorist approaching along the interstate, the skyline of a city in Texas might seem indistinguishable from the skyline of a city in Indiana. These anonymous skylines
have not taken advantage of the opportunities offered by the tall buildings.
In an attempt to deal with this challenge, architects took the glass box and attempted to create an image. Hugh Stubbins' Citicorp Building in New York City responds well to this issue. The top of the building is raked dramatically to provide a large scale image of the building on the New York skyline. This signature is placed on top of an indifferent shaft. When the building meets the ground, it again promotes its image by resting the tower on huge columns at the center of each side.
A similar example is Philip Johnson's Penzoil Place in Houston, Texas. In a similar manner as the Citicorp, Johnson has angled, dramatically, the tops of Penzoil's twin buildings. The imagery is continued by placing the two towers only feet apart creating a tense negative space.
As architects today continue to explore the expression of tall buildings, many exciting solutions are offered for critique. The work of Kohn, Pederson, and Fox returns to many of the expressive forms found
in the 1920's; Johnson-Burgee's Republic Bank in Houston is a design filled with strong imagery.
The skyscrapers of Johnson-Burgee have done more to revive the image conscious building than that of any other single architect. The AT&T, Republic Bank, Transco, and PPG buildings are adding new signatures to the skylines of New York, Houston, and Pittsburgh. However, despite the strong imagery of these designs, it is difficult to find strong connections between the image and the occupant. The Gothic gables and Dutch Stadhuis of Republic Bank have little relation to the bank or to Houston. However, these designs do contain the essential elements to eventually become symbols synonymous with their respective cities.
The success of the skyscraper is dependent upon its expression of its occupant and its city. The historical and recent examples presented would seem to indicate strong, bold imagery as the best vehicle for conveying this expression. The skyscraper in a sense becomes a sign post. If successful it is advertising both itself and its city. This is especially
true when the building is highly visible from the highway, developing 55 MPH billboard architecture.
The design of Sun Bank Center will attempt to create a solution which speaks on different levels, expressing the images of Sun Bank and Orlando to the motorist on Interstate 4 and the pedestrian on Orange Avenue.
setting: downtown Orlando
Recent efforts have accomplished a tremendous revitalization in downtown Orlando. A commitment by Sun Bank to the future of downtown will strengthen and continue these efforts. Downtown has the potential of being the business and financial center for the rapidly growing Central Florida region. Within this district is the Government Center for Orange County, over 7 million square feet of office space, and a major entertainment center in the Church Street Station.
The heart of Orlando has traditionally been Orange Avenue. The resurgence of downtown has begun to establish Orange Avenue as a true retail "Main Street." A major element of this has been the street-scaping along a five-block stretch of Orange Avenue. This 4.5 million dollar project widened and bricked sidewalks, resurfaced intersections with brick pavers, planted rows of drake elms and added street furniture. Results have been immediate with an 88% increase in pedestrian traffic along Orange Avenue.
Another major element in downtown with direct impact on Sun Bank is the Church Street Station development. Approximately 1.3 million people visit Church Street each year, making it one of the largest tourist attractions in Florida. This entertainment complex brings a large number of tourists and natives downtown each evening. A major benefit to downtown would be encouraging activities which would keep these visitors downtown. Because of its proximity to Church Street Station, Sun Bank Center will have the opportunity to develop such activities.
The location of Sun Bank Center, on the corner of Orange Avenue and Church Street, places it on what has always been considered the center of downtown. The Church-Orange intersection historically was adjacent to the Orlando Railroad Station, and it was around the intersection that the city of Orlando grew. Since its founding in 1934, Sun Bank has always enjoyed the importance of a Church and Orange location.
The blocks immediately north of the Church-Orange intersection contain what has recently been zoned as
the downtown historic district. This classification has encouraged extensive revitalization throughout this segment of downtown. These recent efforts in this historic district will insure that the area immediately to the north of the Sun Bank Center will remain as a low scale district.
Orange Avenue creates an axis with Orlando City Hall located on the block immediately south of Sun Bank. This, in effect, establishes a southern terminus to downtown Orlando. In contrast to the evening population at Church Street Station, City Hall will provide a large number of daytime users for the amenities of Sun Bank Center.
The site of the Sun Bank Center is adjacent to the intersection of Interstate 4 and Orlando's East-West Expressway. This location makes the site one of the most prominent in Orlando. This is particularly true for visitors to the area. Interstate 4 is the major artery into the Central Florida region. For tourists coming to visit one of the area's attractions, the Sun Bank Center will be highly visible from the
interstate. The fact that the interstate is elevated over much of its stretch through downtown increases this visibility.
Sun Bank Center will be bound on the north by Church Street, the west by Interstate 4 and the Church Street Station development. Orange Avenue creates the east edge. Across Orange Avenue are the CNA and Barnett Bank buildings. At 18 and 16 stories, respectively, these are the tallest buildings in downtown Orlando. Immediately south of the site is City Hall and further south the East-West Expressway.
Located on the site for the new Sun Bank Center is the existing Sun Bank building. The exciting building was built in 1958 as the headquarters for Sun Bank, and in the mid 1970's underwent renovations to update the structure.
Also located on the site is Beardall Park. Beardall Park was the site of Orlando's first public school and later the first City Hall. Although the park has this strong historical connection to the city, the size of Sun Bank Center necessitates building over at
least a portion of the park. An agreement with the city of Orlando requires that the design of the Sun Bank Center replace any park removed and that the new space be dedicated to the city.
The future success of downtown Orlando is closely tied to the future of Sun Bank Center. Its location along Orange Avenue will strengthen the resurgence of Main Street. The proximity to Church Street Station and City Hall will insure a day and evening population. Finally the high visibility from Interstate 4 provides the opportunity for Sun Bank Center to become a popular symbol for the city of Orlando.
Downtown Orlando
When completed Sun Bank Center will be the largest multi-use urban development in downtown Orlando. On its 7-acre site the center will contain distinct functional elements such as office space, retail, hotel, and a parking garage. The major elements of the proposed development are:
1. **Existing Sun Bank Building** - The existing building will be retained. The 176,350 GSF building currently houses the main offices of Sun Bank. This use of the building should also be retained. However, ancillary elements may be altered or removed as deemed necessary for the design of new structures.
2. **New Office Building** - The new building should contain approximately 650,000 GSF of office space. Approximately 50% of this new space will be for Sun Bank use. The remaining area will be leaseable office space. A physical interaction should be possible between the new Sun Bank offices and the existing Sun Bank building. The new office building should also provide various space to be used as a conference center.
3. **Banking Hall** - A 14,700 GSF Grand Banking Hall will also be developed within the project. This banking hall will serve day-to-day consumer banking needs as well as being a central atrium space for the center.
4. **Businessmen's Hotel** - A 350 room firstclass businessmen's hotel will serve a major need of downtown Orlando. The design of the hotel should enable it to enjoy a close relationship to the amenities offered by Church Street Station.
5. **Retail** - An agreement with the City of Orlando requires approximately 50,000 GSF of retail space to be located throughout the site. The retail space will consist of speciality shops, restaurants, and other uses common to a downtown environment designed to serve employees and visitors to a mixed use urban center. The retail space should be located in the new office building and the hotel and placed as to put an emphasis on pedestrian use. The placement of the retail space should make an attempt to encourage retail development along Church Street and Orange Avenue.
6. **Parking Garage** - Structured parking for 1900 cars should be located on the site. This parking will serve all elements of the Sun Bank Center as well as having the potential to serve users of City Hall and Church Street Station.
7. **New Public Park** - To replace any removal of the existing Beardall Park a new public park should be included in the design of the Sun Bank Center. This pedestrian space will be used for civic functions and public activities. The park will have the opportunity to become a major focal space at the heart of downtown. Therefore, adequate open space should be provided for large outdoor functions.
Through case studies, setting and program analysis, it was determined that Sun Bank Center contained the essential ingredients for a high-rise with a strong image. The building would have the opportunity to create a "signature" for the skyline of Orlando, a signature which would project the images of Sun Bank and Orlando.
At the start of design several goals and objectives were established for the Sun Bank Center design:
1. Respond to the challenge of how to top a high-rise, through an exploration in the high-rise as a corporate and civic symbol.
2. Respond to the motorist on Interstate 4 as an exploration of 55 MPH architecture.
3. Respond to the pedestrian and scale of downtown Orlando.
4. Complement revitalization efforts along Orange Avenue.
5. Reestablish the ideas of downtown hotels.
6. Provide useable open space in downtown Orlando.
7. Create a signature for the skyline of Orlando which also serves as a designation of the town center.
The response to the question of creating a skyline signature becomes the crux of the design problem. All other objectives can be embodied in a successful solution to this goal. Of particular importance is the relation of the skyline to the tourist/motorist traveling on Interstate 4. This signature becomes the key impression of Orlando conveyed to the motorist.
The footprint established by the new office building is critical in the development of a skyline proposal. A very large footprint results in the possibility of a building which in height respects an established scale in downtown. This solution fails to solve several design issues. The large footprint covers a large percentage of the site and makes functional relationships between departments and the existing building difficult. It also does not take advantage of the opportunity to create a highway symbol for Orlando. In addition, though the height of such a solution is sympathetic to existing scale
its bulkiness is overpowering to the existing context.
A mid-rise solution might attempt to solve all of these design criteria. Through a series of step ups, the design can relate to existing scale while still providing the height required for an image building. However, arriving at this type of compromise the design does not directly address itself to the issues established as important to the project.
A high-rise solution best answers the challenge to create a strong image building. The smaller footprint of the high-rise is more in line with standard gross square footage for a typical office floor. In addition the size of the high-rise provides for strong relationships between the new building and the existing building. Program analysis would indicate a high-rise of thirty stories. Since the tallest building downtown is the adjacent eighteen-story CNA Building, and because of the proximity to Interstate 4, a high-rise solution would meet the requirements for prominence established through case studies.
Having determined the footprint and approximate
height, the next step is to discover what images should be projected. If the design is to become a symbol for Sun Bank, it must read as advertising the bank. This advertising must be worked into a sensitive high-rise design. Much of Sun Bank's recent advertising has focused efforts on the image of the sun. Messages such as "Come to the Power of the Sun," displayed with sunrise scenes are used throughout Florida on billboards and television advertisements. The logo of Sun Bank is an abstraction of a sun with the words Sun Bank enclosed by a three-quarter circle. It would appear the bank wishes to use a connection with the sun to project its image.
Sun Bank's traditional commitment to Orlando requires that the image projected be not only symbolic of the bank but also of Orlando. The idea of sun has strong possibilities in this direction as well. Florida and Central Florida have historically been closely tied to the sun. Florida the "Sunshine State" has used this connection to promote its tourist industry and warm climate. It has been stated as the importance of the
tourist and citrus industries to Orlando, industries dependent upon the sun. The sun as a symbol is also representative of growth, power, and progress. These representations are important to a city in the midst of rapid development. The responsibility given Sun Bank Center is to be a good "neighbor" and "citizen" of Orlando by respecting the existing fabric and representing new ideals.
The challenge now becomes to top a high-rise in a manner which evokes images of the sun--images which can be related to Sun Bank and Orlando. Early studies in response to this dealt with abstractions of the Sun Bank logo and the sun. While some of these studies were quite literal in their form, the attempt was to create a design capable of carrying a powerful image. A successful solution must be able to speak to a variety levels. It should address Sun Bank and Orlando as a symbol, as well as an exploration for a skyscraper "style." The conclusions of this study would indicate that a skyscraper "style" is dependent upon how the design solves the questions of image.
Included on the following pages are images and thoughts used in the development of Sun Bank Center. It is hoped that these images will serve as a prologue to the final design solution.
Sun Bank Center
Goals & Objectives
1. Respond to the motorist on I-4
2. Compliment revitalization of Orange Ave.
3. Respond to energy considerations
4. Reestablish idea of Orange Ave. Hotels
5. Convey images of Orlando & SunBank
6. Explore / Discover
Build your community and you build your bank
1. A signature for Orlando
2. A designation of town center
Thoughts...
1. skyscrapers = 20th century
2. fantasies vertical rather than horizontal
3. Because architecture is a practical art, and practical men pay the bills, the search for style has been rationalized and camouflaged.
"The dumb but reasonably honest glass box at least had the virtue of a saving simplicity; there is no virtue in elaborate vacancy."
Image: This is the center of downtown
This is Orlando
NOT
1. A city that needs a signature not small but bold.
2. An image that is sleek, progressive, graceful.
Why a taller building for image?
**Site Goals**
- Encourage activity along Orange Ave.
- Provide shade
- Develop a link between Church St. Station and Orange Ave.
- Provide usable open space in downtown
**Discovery in Architecture**
**Big Building Monument / Friendly Bldg.**
- Entrance/Approach
- Four-sided building
MIES: Minimize space, freedom - but not to extremity....
Being a good neighbor means...
Being a good citizen means...
A commitment to downtown !!!!!!
Design Solution
Skyline From I-4
The final proposal for Sun Bank Center has attempted to respond to the different issues established throughout the design process.
In response to the question of image, the design has abstracted the logo of Sun Bank and combined it with a form symbolic of the sun. The result is a divided circle, shifted along its axis forming the top of the building. The lower arc of the circle is cut into the body of the building, while the upper arc is formed by a tubular steel truss. As the lower arc forms the upper floors of the building an opportunity is provided to create a sky lobby. The curve of the arc becomes the roof of the lobby while on either side executive offices and conference rooms overlook the space. The upper arc completes the circle and creates an essential part of the big scale "sign" of the building. Beneath the arc is an observation deck offering views of Central Florida.
As the upper arc is shifted on its axis, it is pulled from the body of the building. This is accented by placing the arc on an element extracted from the
building. This element, one bay in width and extracted half a bay, defines the core of the building as well as providing a strong vertical thrust to the design.
The new tower is clad in two different materials. On the east and west facades, the elevation is a reflective glass curtain wall. This is intended to respond as a large scale element relating to the motorist on Interstate 4. The north and south elevations are composed of prefabricated brick panels. This is an attempt to relate to the characteristic brick architecture of the city.
A grand banking hall has been developed as the connection between the existing Sun Bank building and the new tower. The ground floor, in an effort to encourage pedestrian activity, contains customer service functions of the bank. Running through the hall are bridges connecting the vertical circulation cores on each level. This banking hall also serves as the atrium/lobby for the new tower.
The site development attempts to encourage a connection between Orange Avenue and Church Street.
Station. This is accomplished by situating the businessmen's hotel in a manner which creates a corridor between the hotel and the office complex. The space created between the two buildings becomes a hard surfaced plaza. To promote traffic through the plaza, activities such as the banking hall and retail space open onto it. Church Street Station should become a major draw for visitors of the hotel and this itself will encourage pedestrian activity. Along Orange Avenue space is dedicated as an open green space. This provides a need for open public space downtown; shaded, cool downtown spaces; and creates the opportunity to provide a public space to respect City Hall.
The following drawings and photographs are a graphic representation of the final design proposal for Sun Bank Center.
SUN BANK CENTER
Orlando, Florida
A Masters Design Project Spring 1986
T. Douglas Ferguson
Central Florida Region ↑ Downtown Orlando
Existing Skyline
Banking Hall Level
Typical Office Levels 2·9
Typical Office Levels 10·26
East Elevation
Skyline From Lake Eola
West Site Section
East Site Section
West Wall Section
Spandrel Glass
Precast Double-Tee
Precast L-Beam
Suspended Ceiling
2 Conc. Topping
Plenum
HVAC System
- L-Beam
- Double Tee
- Supply Air
Cooling Towers
Mechanical Floors
South Wall Section
Prefab Brick Panel
L-Beam
Supply Air
Lighting
Double-Tee
Return Air
Structural - Mechanical Systems
Images
Skyline From I-4
Orange Ave. Corridor
footnotes
FOOTNOTES
2 Ibid., p. 38.
3 Ibid., p. 235.
4 Ibid., p. 235.
5 Ibid., p. 235.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Reports
Books
Periodicals
Interviews
|
Criticality in Phenomenal Memory: Architectural Mnemonics for the Chaudiere
by
John Blias-C., B.A.S., M.Arch.
A thesis submitted to The Faculty of Graduate Studies in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
MASTER OF ARCHITECTURE
M.Arch. (Professional)
Carleton University
Ottawa, Ontario
September 1, 2007
© copyright 2007, John Blias-C.
NOTICE:
The author has granted a non-exclusive license allowing Library and Archives Canada to reproduce, publish, archive, preserve, conserve, communicate to the public by telecommunication or on the Internet, loan, distribute and sell theses worldwide, for commercial or non-commercial purposes, in microform, paper, electronic and/or any other formats.
The author retains copyright ownership and moral rights in this thesis. Neither the thesis nor substantial extracts from it may be printed or otherwise reproduced without the author’s permission.
In compliance with the Canadian Privacy Act some supporting forms may have been removed from this thesis.
While these forms may be included in the document page count, their removal does not represent any loss of content from the thesis.
Canada
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
Abstract
Memory has had a vital connection with the external mental development of culture as seen through the evolution of architectural artifacts that provide proof of the existence of history. Through an exploration of Sebastian Marot's phenomenal memory, ambivalent impressions of place can deepen, experientially, a site by incorporating its historical evolution and material remains into an architectural re-adaptation of current programmatic requirements. Marot’s phenomenal memory refrains from the creation of literal experiences of memory such as in monuments, or in the case of post-industrial sites – strict conservation.
A search for Marot’s phenomenal memory, in post industrial contexts, will reveal the possibilities of creating a deeper connection to place and site by addressing a site’s historical remains by incorporating its many mnemonic layers into a re-articulation of new program. This research will establish phenomenal mnemonic strategies to engage the re-adaptive potential of the post industrial site of the Cardboard Mill on the Chaudiere.
Table of Contents
Introduction 1
Thesis 2
Marot and the Art of Memory 4
Phenomenal Memory 6
The Art of Memory 7
A Freudian model of Memory 10
The Mind of Today 12
Halbwachs' seat of Memory 15
Smithson's Passaic narrative 18
A Memory in Lancy 21
Criticality in Phenomenal Memory 23
Case Study no. 1: The Distillery District 25
Case Study no. 2: The High Line Project 30
Case Study no. 3: Landscape Park Duisburg-Nord 37
Post industrial site: Cardboard Mill 43
Proposal 51
Design 54
Plates 56
Conclusion 68
Bibliography 69
Endnotes 70
Introduction
Too many places, too many regions, too many areas of cities and territories, brutally requisitioned and replanned in the name of the imperatives and conveniences of a present without substance, are every day flattened out, smoothed over, reduced to the two-dimensionality of pure landing strips. The most evident result of these reconfigurations – whatever spatial comfort they may provide to the programmes that motivated them – is that their inhabitants, or those who just frequent them, find it increasingly difficult to spatialize their thoughts, dreams and emotions.¹
This thesis researches memory in the role of architecture that deals with post-industrial sites specifically through an exploration of Sebastian Marot’s *phenomenal memory* (*Sub-Urbanism & the Art of Memory*): a suggestion of ambivalent readings or impressions of place that deepen a site by incorporating its historical evolution and material remains into an architectural re-articulation of current needs. This thesis’ *phenomenal memory* will refrain from preserving a strict literal memory of place, such as in monuments and strict conservation, and will contain a critical response to the history of the Cardboard Mill on Chaudiere Island (Ottawa). A proposition dealing with a critical response to the programmatic past of the Mill, through a re-articulation of existing architectural conditions, will address the question of preservation and proposal the National Capital Commission (NCC) might consider for the site, regarding the adaptive reuse of the Cardboard Mill through an exploration aimed at generating a specific *phenomenal memory* of the site that includes not only the physical existing remains, but also addresses the previously removed states of the site.
Thesis
The reuse of the contemporary post industrial site of the Cardboard Mill, has the capacity to address certain aspects the role of memory can have in strategies for design – specifically, an approach that deals with Marot's *Phenomenal Memory:* allowing for multiple mnemonic impressions of place that include historical site conditions, whether built or existing, into the adaptation of current needs. The idea of *Phenomenal Memory* appears from an extrapolation of the thoughts regarding literal and phenomenal transparency found in the essay by Colin Rowe and Robert Slutzky (*Transparency: Literal and Phenomenal* 1963), Marot deduces the potential of a phenomenal approach in design that would deepen a territory's architectural context by allowing a post industrial site's historical framework to participate in its adaptive reuse.2
Furthermore, contemporary post industrial sites are attracting significant attention from government bodies concerned with heritage preservation. In Ottawa, the National Capital Commission has an opportunity to encourage industrial heritage preservation that; is relevant for the surrounding community; and is architecturally responsive to the existing mnemonic conditions of site, not under strict conservation but as contributing, and architecturally evolving participants, to the contextual benefit of the larger community.
In addition, through the investigation of contemporary examples of post-industrial heritage preservation, this thesis will show that a proposal with an active architectural design process that interprets the historical and architectural memory of the Cardboard Mill's site will contribute to deepen a contextual union with the Chaudiere. Adaptive reuse models that contribute constructively to their community are functioning successfully to both re-engage
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
post-industrial sites, through identifiable examples of ambivalent readings of place that evoke the past in the present, critically. The case studies employed in this comparative analysis of reused post industrial sites demonstrate that a relevant, and critical, response to a site's past provides contemporary participation in a temporally extended deepened site. The Duisburg Nord Park (Duisburg, Germany-Latz+Partners), the High Line (New York-Diller+Scofidio), and the Distillery District (Toronto-Cityscape) offer indication that design responses that engage the historical architectural memory of their sites can create relevant and deepened impressions of place.
The design approach for the Cardboard Mill on Chaudiere Island will respond to the previous natural states of the Island (that was at one time its main allure); and the eroding architectural remains of the Mill, through the formal desires of the NCC to situate a Museum of Science & Technology on the site. This will evoke the many mnemonic conditions of the site into a singular built condition, allowing for the many deep impressions of place required to construct a phenomenal memory of the Cardboard Mill on the Chaudiere.
The materiality and construction methods, for the Museum, will respond to the site's deteriorating building conditions by creating ambivalent impressions of preservation and re-connection. The reorganization of the site will be interpreted through axial incisions into the existing building that recall the horizontal and vertical developments of the site. An east-west corridor will align the site to the Parliamentary Buildings, providing a sense of orientation, and a north-south corridor will reconnect the individual to the shores of the Rideau River.
Marot and the Art of Memory
The premise of memory in architecture is a considerable historical subject matter that has been often examined in terms of memory as a material and element of architecture, and architecture as a vehicle of memory. In *Sub-Urbanism and the Art of Memory* Marot discusses an approach for contemporary architectural responses to program-site design which encourages the historical memory of a site to affect the way program is articulated through design. Marot points out that this architectural method challenges traditional design approaches where site is controlled by program; essentially from program forcing site accommodation – to site influencing program design; “…redirecting emphasis from programme to site – site as the matrix of design, and programme as a tool to explore, read, reveal, invent and ultimately represent the site.” By examining the historical conditions of the Cardboard Mill and its surrounding site, an architectural intervention can be made to provide impressions of the historical phases of the site, and of the Mill itself.
In Marot’s Manifesto the study of memory in architecture is divided into four sections that illuminate the need to deepen a place’s mnemonic context to allow for an individual to experience multiple phenomenal readings of architecture that enhance their connection to space and time. Marot’s first thread in *Sub-Urbanism and the Art of Memory* discusses Frances Yates’ *The Art of Memory* and extracts a historical foundation of mnemonics based on image and place. The second thread distinguishes psychological and social mnemonic phenomena in Freud’s fantasy of historical Rome, found in *Civilization and its Discontent*; in Halbwachs’ *The Social Frameworks of Memory*, and in Rossi’s *L’Architettura della citta*. The third thread is a mnemonic narrative, by Robert Smithson during a visit to a post-industrial setting, from *A Tour of the Monuments of Passaic*. The fourth thread is a description of Georges Descombes’
park design outside of Geneva that offers an example of how Marot's reuse of a site, through *phenomenal memory*, deepens a territory's connection with its contextual geographic past through ambivalent impressions of place and history.
Marot extrapolates the notion of ambivalent impressions that occur in C. Rowe & R. Slutsky's phenomenal transparency, into a phenomenal experience of memory. This extrapolation is derived from Rowe & Slutsky's essay, *Transparency: Literal and Phenomenal*, with a suggestion that in revealing a site's history through the design process, a *phenomenal memory* exists in opposition to a *literal memory* (where a *literal memory* is concerned with a site's strict conservation), and should be explored when examining the relevancy of memory for the reuse of post-industrial sites. Marot's conclusive suggestion of a *Phenomenal Memory* pertains to the extrapolation of the distinctions used by Rowe & Slutsky to interpret transparency—Literal and Phenomenal (the terms Literal and Phenomenal were used to describe the possibilities of perception for the effect of transparency as to how they relate to painting and architecture); where literal in memory refers to severe preservation, phenomenal in memory refers to physical stimuli, an architectural setting, that expands the mnemonic experience of site to include simultaneous layers of time; not in concentration but in an expansion of space and time. Marot stresses the need to explore *Phenomenal memory*, through the use of a site's history as a design strategy, to demonstrate depth and a process of connection. This allows an individual to experience ambivalent impressions of place, stimulating the imagination in the reconstruction of memory, and deepening the connection to that place. This deepening of place through memory can provide cultural substance, and guidance that acknowledges previous physical states of a site that were neglected or destroyed; and allows for a comprehensive historical understanding of place that can provide
a deeper re-articulation of new programmatic inclusions in the adaptive reuse of post industrial sites.
Phenomenal Memory
The point of Marot's phenomenal memory is to refrain from the creation of literal experiences of memory (such as in monuments, statues, or in the case of post-industrial sites: strict conservation), so as to produce multiple ambivalent readings of context, that deepen the engagement of a tactile, material, memory of a site.
In addition, dismissing the contextual significance of a site reduces the possibility of intensifying a place by building on its mnemonic layers:
...exploring the idea of a phenomenal memory in a field where the effects of literal memory are very fragile and can only be relatively exceptional (strict conservation, monuments) – appears to us a highly promising undertaking...for the critique and practice of [architecture].
Marot's Literal Memory may provide evidence of the past (as in Memorials), but it is in Phenomenal Memory that one can participate in the evolving nature of memory; expanding an individual's perception of their spacio-temporal surroundings.
Sebastian Marot arrives at a conclusion regarding the future of post-industrial sites that encourages the deepening of site through the exploration of phenomenal memory. Marot's phenomenal memory pertains to the importance image & place have in the ability to re-construct memory. The presence of physical evidence, through architecture, can allow for a direct registering of 'real' images; so that our collective understanding of space and time extends
beyond the ephemeral present; so that we may participate deeply, truly, in that oceanic sensation of totality and belonging to a collective existence.
**The Art of Memory**
According to Yates, the Greeks stressed the importance of the facility of recalling text through the use of memory; often long texts would be recited solely through the use of ones elaborated mnemonic techniques:
> Few people know that the Greeks, who invented many arts, invented an art of memory which, like their other arts, was passed on to Rome whence it descended in the European tradition. This art seeks to memorize through a technique of impressing 'places' and 'images' on memory.9
The Greeks realized that a memory consisted of mental images, and these images required a technique that would improve their recall abilities and ultimately the memory itself. The mnemonic relationship that the Greeks developed, for the improvement of memory, was used predominantly in the exercise of Rhetoric, but this approach was encouraged for the betterment of an individual's intellect and imagination. This beginning of a memory improvement method stressed the importance of image and place, in memory. This mnemonic relationship was based on the premise that memory was predominantly image based; an individual's memory was a collection of reproducible mental images.10 The ease of recall relied on the projection of a temporary mental image onto a permanent mental image. A permanent mental image consisted of place or a stable architectural space that could be seen and experienced directly, this enforced a need for direct relationship with place:
> The first step was to imprint on the memory a series of loci of places. The commonest, though not the only, type of mnemonic place system used was the architectural type...The images by which the [content] is to be
A memory could be broken down into its images, and from there these mental images were projected onto a place or **loci** from which they would be recalled with more proficiency; a mental image was projected onto a stable architectural place that would house, for instance, a narrative. This technique stressed the use of imagination in order to facilitate the mental recreation of a *temporary* mental image (memory) on a *permanent* mental image (place), allowing an individual to imagine a memory to life. Marot affirms the importance of the image/place relationship, with respect to the self and its mental internal/external connection with reality; “…such as the primacy given to the sense of sight – perceptible in the very etymology of **idea**, which in Plato designates the essence of things, or in the Aristotelian thesis holding that ‘the soul never thinks without a mental picture’.12 Further more, by providing the historical narrative of the evolution of the Cardboard Mill area with a tactile physical collection of mnemonic impressions (induced through a re-articulation of existing, preceding, and proposed conditions) promotes a deeper perception and comprehension of the site.
This relationship between image and place, in the art of memory, was central to the developments of early literary imagery, as a memory system for visualizing and recalling an image of a place with its meaning, such as in Dante’s *Inferno* (where the images of the places of Heaven and Hell contain images of punishment and incentive). This imagery system deepened an internal mental connection to an intellectually external fabrication; allowing an individual “to read the spatial arrangements [Dante] describe[d] (Hell, Paradise) as mnemonic systems.” Through the medieval period image/place was essential in the formation of imagery in art and architecture through an encouragement of the imagination to manipulate image in place, and in the Hermetic philosophical investigations of Lullism, the art of memory, served to explain philosophical movements in the psyche through revolving imagery providing an external cosmic connection for the individual.
Marot extends the significance of the art of memory in interpretation through recall, by referring to Thierry Mariage’s, in *Univers de le Nostre, ou les origines de l’aménagement du territoire*, views on the garden:
> Certain engraved views from the baroque period bring explicitly into relief this process of transposition or translation, whereby a wood corresponds to a forest, a fountain to a spring, a grotto to caves, a canal to irrigation ditches, and the parquetry of flower beds to the divided plots of cultivated fields.
With this framework the cognitive effort in the art of gardens and, through the association of a mental internal/external material reorganization of site, the art of architecture appears as a “medium for the semanticization of the land, lending to nature the status of a landscape organized into spaces.” This mnemonic understanding of nature and our material
interpretation of it, underscores the importance of the image/place relationship that connects an individual to a specific site, and defines their place in Marot's 'time and culture'.
This ability to spatialize a specific space, and form an internal mental connection to it, allows for a deepening of site; if a historically social narrative exists of a particular site, for example: the great industrial boom that the Cardboard Mill participated in, then that site can provide direct mental contact to a permanent image (the Mill) providing a temporary image (the Narrative) residency.
A Freudian model of Memory
This regard for a mental connection to an external place reiterates Freud's sentiments regarding preservation, in Civilization and its Discontents. In the text Freud attempts to clarify Roman Rolland's description of the true source of religion's power: that “…‘oceanic feeling’ of belonging to the totality of the outside world that is supposedly rooted in everyone…”
This sensation is characterized as a survival trait that spawns from a state of consciousness familiar to that of an infant child, and can remerge in certain circumstances that bond an individual's psyche to the external world (such as in love). This attachment response is often challenged, altered, and transcended through Freud's reality principle, which instructs the individual to form a division between the ego and the real world. Although the separation implies disconnect, Freud states that through this dividing line a connection with reality is recorded; that the division between ego and reality is impartial to difference; although ego and reality are separate, they are each a half of the whole. That reality, composed of external matter, as through architecture, provides the counter, and completion, for the ego of the individual.
This recording, or memory, extends the connection to beyond the present to include most of an individual’s life; “that in mental life nothing which has once been formed can perish – that everything is somehow preserved and that in suitable circumstances it can once more be brought to light.”22 This suggests that Rolland’s oceanic feeling can be reawakened through the use of one’s memory to connect not only to the past but to the whole that includes the present. Freud presents an analogy to investigate this hypothesis, using the ancient city of Rome and its layered development as an illustration.
Freud embarks on re-creating the Ancient City of Rome where no architectural record is eliminated and the architectural experience consists of buildings within buildings, so that “Rome is not a human habitation but a psychical entity with a similarly long copious past – an entity...in which nothing that has once come into existence will have passed away and all the previous phases of development continue to exist alongside the latest one.”23 Freud’s attempt to generate a parallel with the cognitive workings of one’s memory through an analogy that considers the possibility of the complete architectural memory of a city continues with acknowledging an argumentative response that considers the relationship between the cognitive capacities of the mind and that of reality to exist differently. Freud counters this with a biological comparison, in which the body is used to ‘test’ the limits of memory, asserting that one’s body “...does not preserve its earlier phases of development...[; accordingly] the embryo cannot be discovered in the adult.”24 Equally, a built condition unchanged, preserved and frozen in a literal memory cannot provide fully to the evolving necessities of new socio-collectives; it must adapt, not preserve but continue.
Although these parallel analogies seek to disprove a complete collective memory in the mind, they omit external collections or remnants of the process of evolution in both the architectural fabric of a city (Rome), and in the physical growth of an individual that could prove the existence of an extended comprehensive memory. The complete history of Rome may not exist in the condensed version that Freud imagines, nor do bodily records exist of an individual’s physical development; but physical mnemonic records exist of these processes in the externalized impressions (images) during phases of their respective evolution: paintings, narratives, photographs, garments, etc (this aside from other extrasmatic collective devises). In addition, Freud’s use of an analogy to explain the internal mnemonic processes of the mind, which when viewed in the context of forgetting, something that these analogies, of body and architecture, seem to suggest (that one thing cannot remember everything with respect to the physical evolution of an individual, and of architecture), the memory of an individual, and the memory of architecture, evolve and expand outside their physical constrains and show traces of their evolution through what remains in, and of, them. Freud then retracts the comparative analogies of memory, whether mental or physical, recognizing their limitations and stipulates that portions of mental memory may persist and exist, in an evolving sense through impartial or incomplete recollection, as seen through the mnemonic abilities of the mind, that suggest an unlimited capacity for diluted recall.
**The Mind of today**
This inhibition to completely deny the possibility of a complete mental memory holds true in contemporary Neurobiology as when “…memories, when fixed, are…difficult to erase (…they are the most durable features…acquired during a person’s lifetime).”25 The
neurobiological processes of the brain, with respect to memory and information gathering, create channels or pathways that house a memory: encoded content is represented as a specific path. These pathways, through contextual repetition, if maintained “…allow for a record to be ‘printed’ in the long-term memory,” so that although we may not remember everything, what does remain, specifically in architecture, provides external evidence of the existence of memory; that what remains of the Cardboard Mill can offer an indication of the memory of the city.
Although Freud’s positions regarding the physiological functioning of memory is no longer convincing in light of recent advances in neurobiology, for the most part “…neuroscientists have not yet unraveled the secrets of the memory mechanism,” but have determined that certain neurological functions require tactile context, to impress in the mind, a memory, and that the same tactile context can remind. This suggests that although narratives or other forms of externally captured memories (as through photography) can evoke a memory, context is a superior method for recall; equally, a historical architectural collection can provide tangible proof for the imagination to reconstruct the mind’s past.
Providing context, through place, is important for allowing the individual an opportunity to reconstruct an event, or experience, “…context dependency is a retrieval effect, with context helping the subject to locate the relevant information in [their] memory store,” so that during the perception of a place, an individual can realize a history of a city through direct contact with an architectural memory of the past (context). This contextual factor assists the imagination, for example, by placing a historical narrative into context, the individual can reconstruct previous periods more accurately, and if in the setting of a
reconfigured post-industrial site, deepen the overall experience of space and time by invoking the past into the present.
In addition, the "...environmental context in memory, [states]...that contextual cues change the interpretation of the material to be remembered," offerring the direct experience of place provides an individual direct contact to a deepened sense of place, where they can participate in the continuing evolution and extended chronology of a place.
Contemporary studies on memory also place significance on the manner in which context is experienced: "We do not perceive or remember in a vacuum. The context within which we experience an event will determine how that event is encoded and hence retained." This encourages the way in which post-industrial sites are reconfigured so that the experience refers not only to the past but to the new present that an individual engages and perceives in the new overall context; placing importance on how we can adapt a historical place to accommodate the needs of the present, allows for both the previous and current states to exist simultaneously. The adaptive reuse of post-industrial sites, in the case studies referred to in this text, demonstrate the simultaneous existence of multiple programmatic dialogues with the past and the present; dialogues that criticize and acknowledge past occurrences, and previous natural states of a site, in a new re-articulation of present requirements. This referential procedure permits an individual to experience ambivalent impressions of place, stimulating the imagination in the reconstruction of memory, and deepening the connection to that place.
If a historical event or period is to be recalled or expressed it is "...crucial to reinstate the [material] context if good recall [is] required."\textsuperscript{31} The importance of place, or in the case of invoking a sense of the historical context of the Chaudiere, relies on direct experiential contact with the architectural setting; providing a contrast between the materialities of the existing eroding concrete conditions of the Cardboard Mill, and the reinforcing programmatic intervention of a Museum.
Consequently, the 'oceanic feeling' of totality that Roman Rolland wished to "...[describe] as the true source of religious behavior,"\textsuperscript{32} represents an extended participation of materialized evidence that a physical memory exists outside the self; history (memory) is confirmed through the physical remnants that can be experienced directly through something previously built. This resembles Maurice Halbwachs' inference that "the seat of memory is to be found in society rather than in the individual."\textsuperscript{33}
\textbf{Halbwachs' seat of Memory}
Marot restates that Maurice Halbwachs' position, in \textit{The Social Frameworks of Memory}, consists of external proofs of mnemonics:
\begin{quote}
...memory is not like a private chamber within the individual consciousness – a storehouse for personal recollections – but is more a process of reconstruction: an activity of localization and configuration functioning essentially from and within socially elaborated frames or reference systems (language, divisions of time and space, etc.).\textsuperscript{34}
\end{quote}
These references, or divisions of time and space, which architecture participates as, act as fixed points of reference that can serve for the mental re-articulation of external material for
the manufacturing of memory. It is with these material reference points, for Halbwachs that memory is allowed to exist, essentially outside the mind.
For the purpose of culture, there can be no memory without external proof from which to reconstruct, through permanent images, a sense of reality, and through extension of Freud's ego/reality, a sense of belonging. For "...we preserve memories of each epoch in our lives, and these are continually reproduced; [and] through them...a sense of identity is perpetuated." A sense of identity and socio-collective presence – culture – is provided through the many remaining historical architectural artifacts found within cities. Consequently an awareness of culture and identity can be achieved for Ottawa, through an engaged and evolving reorganization of the existing conditions of the present-day Cardboard Mill; a preservation that is not literal but that engages the broad social and natural historical context of the Chaudiere Island; suggestive, reflective, and critical of the chronological periods of the site.
Halbwachs defines memory’s existence as material mnemonic evidence in space:
...like an immobile image of time...there is no collective memory that does not unfold in a spatial framework... [Space] is an enduring reality: each of our impressions banishes the one that came before, nothing remains in our mind, and there would be no way of understanding the past, if it did not in effect preserve itself in the material surroundings.\textsuperscript{56}
Marot elaborates on the evolution of the city through its social frameworks, and interprets it as a mental organism whose previous “states of existence” are available to certain extents “and whose spatiotemporal depth, now transparent, now opaque, is more or less available to the voyage of memory.”\textsuperscript{37} Cautioning that “…beyond the machines for traveling in space and time...the mental health of our cities and territories no doubt depends on the degree to which...elasticity or depth...is available to be experienced everywhere...and therefore...”\textsuperscript{39} it is the obligation of the architect/builder, whose responsibility it is to reconfigure our environments, through adaptation for the present or the future, “...to permit, restore or invent this availability.”\textsuperscript{39}
This idea of an engaged evolving reconstruction of architectural remnants, a process of connection and depth to a site's historical context, supports Marot’s later objection to the effects of \textit{Literal Memory} (one of strict preservation as in monuments) in the design strategy of adaptive reuse projects. An approach through \textit{Literal Memory} – a memory that is frozen and inhibited from participating in the evolution of the physical and tactile progression of the impartial erosion of temporal reality – delays, and often prevents, the evolution of a continuing, expansive, mnemonic reality; a reality composed mostly of previous material
moments, that exist as a continuous layering of the physical proof of those moments in history, that developed the Chaudiere and the Cardboard Mill.
**Smithson’s Passaic Narrative**
This type of reconstruction, or perception of reality, draws parallels to Smithon’s narrative, in *The Monuments of Passaic*, which retells an account Smithson had during his trip to Passiac, a suburb of New Jersey, New York. The narrative reads as a collection of Halbwachs external memories and demonstrates Smithson’s participation in the proof of a material memory that is not an internal mental process devoid of external mnemonic proof, but a reconstruction of fictional and abstract understandings of the process of engagement with a new surreal collection of existing phenomena.
Smithson’s narrative echoes Halbwachs’ proposed external memory frameworks, and maintains that memory cannot exist without external material proof. The Passaic adventures induce an experience of interwoven recollections, consisting of external mnemonic contexts: fenced off decaying post-industrial buildings, vacant neighborhoods, a glaring midday sun, a dilapidated bridge, reference texts from a local newspaper, and a science fiction novel. This amalgamation of reference points, when combined through imagination, provided a sensation of an allegorical mnemonic interpretation, and by extension a sense of belonging and participation in the chronology of the space and time of Passaic. Smithson’s concept of memory, through his narrative, consisted of a nonlinear collection of mental images projected from external tactile evidence that allows him to comprehend, or receive and perceive, his spatiotemporal place in the reality of the site, extending his sense of assimilation beyond his internal self. Smithson’s yearning to form a ‘deeper’ connection recalls Rolland’s
'oceanic feeling of totality', and Freud's makeup of the ego and reality, so that Yates' permanent images instill the contextual setting, thus forming a connection to a, historically extended, perceivable reality—a connection that was not literal but more in line with Marot's phenomenal memory.
When experiencing the post-industrial remains of Passaic Smithson sums up the effects of the lack of mnemonic material history through an attempt to fill in the material voids with any perceivable content:
The sky was a news print grey, and the clouds resembled sensitive stains if sweat reminiscent of a famous Yugoslav watercolorist whose name I have forgotten. A little statue with right arm held high faced a pond (or was it the sea?). 'Gothic' buildings in the allegory had a faded look, while an unnecessary tree (or was it a cloud of smoke?) seemed to puff up on the left side of the landscape.40
This search for a material, external mental connection that provides proof of reality, for a connection to his Freudian ego, led Smithson to reach for any tactile presence of memory that could provide him a way to connect with his surroundings. Smithson later concludes
that statues could not provide adequate substance in the order of an external participation with the place, leaving his imagination to ponder his context: "...maybe there are a few statues, a legend, and a couple of curios, but no past – just what passes for a future?"
This abjection to Marot's *Literal Memory* devices of statues, and legends, show a desire to create a more thorough bond to the tactile environment, analogous to participating in the past, in Halbwachs' architectural material proof of memory (albeit from a varied program), and not in the past, from the tactile distance suggested by these 'statues' and 'legends', but within these external proofs of memory.
Smithson’s later earth works seek to form a mental mnemonic connection to a site’s material, and geological, layers of history, when the site was lacking in material proofs of history, and memory. As an extension of Smithson’s ambivalent impressions of place, this search for a tactile connection to site, whether narrative, architectural, or even geological, seeks to resolve initial perceptions to relate to the mnemonic remains on abandoned post-industrial sites.
The perceptual experience of the current abandoned state of the Cardboard Mill is one of noticeable emptiness. Aside from the lack of a programmatic inclusion for the individual, the monumentality of the Building, if left completely preserved, as an example of Marot’s *literal memory*, would leave an ephemeral longing for a deeper connection to the site. Although the contextual distance of time makes the connection to the history of the Cardboard Mill difficult, the architectural remains provide proof, and any attempt to
reconnect to the Mill requires additional external proofs of memory (such as historical narratives, and photography) to make a connection more impressionable.
The built evidence provides proof of something previous to an individual's current reality, a physical memory that an individual can absorb as a collection of referential mental images for their imagination to reconstruct. An individual can recreate and engage, through additional or contrived narratives, in the city's past through a mental reconstruction of imagined narratives of the surroundings of the Cardboard Mill. What can make this mentally reconstructed connection to the Cardboard Mill possible is through an additional narrative context, one that is articulated, architecturally, in the reorganization of existing conditions that reflect a thorough connection to the history of the site by reflecting its natural, social, and architectural phases.
A Memory in Lancy
Marot examines a project by Georges Descombes, in Lancy, Switzerland whose works often deal with the issue of memory through rehabilitation, and re-appropriation. Descombes' pedestrian underpass deepens the mnemonic connection to its site through the manipulation of the 'pathway' that reveals the past and present interpretations of the riverside and bridge conditions; developing the surrounding sites "...upstream and downstream through a few discrete interventions that are conceived as so many insights into the disrupted topography and memory of this suburb."
The park/footbridge project was a proposal raised from concern that, with the widening of the road-bridge, a disconnect would be further propagated through the obscuring of the existing natural composition of the site; "...it is a 'tunnel-bridge', perpendicular to the roadbed and clearly distinct from the channel of the Voiret, which runs two metres below it..."44
In the middle of the foot-bridge is a light well that opens up onto the median of the road above, marking the point where the foot-bridge, road-bridge and the river intersect in plan. The placement of the footbridge underneath the road bridge provides a topographical relation between the three elements of the site: the road, the tunnel-bridge, and the river.
"The first advantage of this device is that it addresses the stream as much as (or more than) the, road, restoring some balance to a relation that had been increasingly dominated by the latter."45 This in-between relation also "makes evident what otherwise would have remained imperceptible: the fact that one is crossing both the roadbed and the stream at the same
time, "through the highlight of a light well that projects, from the tunnel-bridge, above to the road and below to the river.
...there is nothing over elaborate about it: its elements, clearly distinct and precisely adjusted, all simply state what they are and what they do...embracing all the territorial features the address (respectively: road and embankment, stream slope)."47
"In an essay devoted to the 'topographic imagination'...Elissa Rosenberg points out this 'mapping impulse'... 'Descombes reinvents a sense of place be describing what is there and what is no longer there. What has disappeared is, in fact, as important to evoke as what is present..."48 Through the creation of multiple impressions of place, a suggestive, reflective, and critical response can provide for Marot's phenomenal memory to deepen the site's existing, and proposed conditions, with the existed.
Criticality in phenomenal memory
Criticality in phenomenal memory refers to engaging the historical narrative of a site to question and alter what is perceived, currently, as a previous, ecological, mistaken relationship with the site. This resolution of past transgressions creates a stronger connection with the material evidence of memory on the site, and creates a sense of relevancy for the current need of a Museum on Chaudiere Island.
Furthermore, creating Marot's phenomenal memory through a deepening of a site's mnemonic architectural evidence, requires the inclusion of a critical examination of a sites historical ecological misconduct that will extend the chronology of site in order to instill Marot's
intention of "...creating more complex and deeper territorial matrices [that are] able to articulate and superimpose more planes in the stratified memory."\(^{49}\)
Through an examination of adaptive reuse case studies that respond to a post-industrial sites’ memory, a search for Marot’s *phenomenal memory* will reveal the possibilities of creating a deeper connection to place and site by including, not only the historical remains of the sites in its reorganization through new programs, but also addressing the previous site’s programs, and their relation to site.
The Distillery District; Toronto; at the intersection of Cherry & Mill St. [Cityscape Holdings
Inc., Dundee Realty Corporation, and the City of Toronto]
The Post-Industrial Site of the Distillery District located in Toronto’s south central industrial neighborhood has been remodeled into a mixed cultural residential district in an attempt to preserve a part of the industrial archaeology of the city. By introducing legislation prohibiting the demolition of the Distillery District, identifying it as a historic landmark, in 1976 the city of Toronto encouraged potential owners (the facilities were purchased by Cityscape Holdings Inc. in 2001) into preserving the aged facilities within their future proposals. This attempt to conserve, and reengage, the Post-Industrial site, by way of government influence, and to revitalize the area commercially, through the needs of the Developers, created a viable and relevant alternative to the potentially demolished or strictly preserved Distillery District, for the neighboring city centre and surrounding communities. By converting the site into a mixed commercial and residential neighborhood, essentially a “pedestrian...village”, the historic preservation position the project might have taken by way of a one-dimensional museum type program was eliminated in favor of a more fiscally and socially relevant multi-use programmatic alternative, that adds the present needs of the
developers to the historical mnemonic remains of the Distillery District's past. Through the choice of active social programming specifically dedicated to arts, culture and entertainment, and through construction efforts aimed at restoring existing built conditions and minimizing physical architectural alterations, the Distillery District project deals with the historical relevancy of post industrial sites by engaging heritage preservation in a multi-use, and socio-economically relevant fashion that encourages safeguarding, but also the active re-use of industrial abandoned sites. In effect this project moves at a slower pace than the following case studies which critically engage the history of their sites through interpretive referential design, and historical remediation interventions, but it does provides the city with an architectural connection to an extended collection of historical evidence that expands the chronology of the city of Toronto through its new interpretation.
The history of the Distillery District is marked with large financial and operational fluctuations; from its early beginnings as a small Grist Mill operation; to becoming one of the largest producers of spirits in the country; and currently as a major cultural attraction for the city of Toronto, the Distillery District marks the development and transitional periods of early North American Industry, culminating in its current state, and relevancy, as a
commercially appropriated post-industrial site.\textsuperscript{34} What remains are buildings of the Victorian Industrial Style belonging to the once highly productive and industrious Gooderham & Worts Distillery. The Buildings on the Distillery District site emerged through successive intervals as investing funds permitted Gooderham and Worts to expand. By the early 1830's the first Grist Wind Mill emerged on the site; by decade's end operations shifted to include a Distillery and small storehouses; at the start of 1860 the spirits market enabled Gooderham & Worts to construct their signature five-storey limestone Distillery (Stone Mill) building; during the 1870's the Copperage and Pure Spirits buildings were erected; subsequent construction efforts included storehouses flanking the existing infrastructure as major construction efforts ceased at the turn of the 20\textsuperscript{th} Century; until recent redevelopment of the current Distillery District by Cityscape Holdings Inc.\textsuperscript{55}
The Developers of the Distillery District and its Management team of Cityscape Holdings Inc., with additional partners Dundee Realty Corporation, implemented a plan for the site that consisted of creating a pedestrian village devoted exclusively to arts, culture, and the entertainment sectors.\textsuperscript{36} Through the choice of programming which incorporated the theme of cultural village, the development group divided the site into residential, commercial/retail, gallery/studio, restaurant/eateries, performance/theatre, and offices/service spaces. The additional programs in the development project required administrative services to manage the area's operations.
The development project of the Distillery District consists of construction additions built within, and surrounding, existing conditions that are minor in scope—restorations, refurbishments, and constructions that reflect the Victorian Industrial Architectural style of the buildings' period. These construction approaches reflect a restoration process that involves refurbishing deteriorating existing built structures and conditions on site; cleaning interior and exterior facades through sandblasting; and additional construction incorporates minor architectural additions that reflect the architectural style of the surroundings buildings in a Neo-Victorian Modern vernacular. A possible outcome of this type of commercial retrofitting approach to developing post-industrial buildings, as seen through the work of Cityscape Holdings Inc. in the Distillery District, will be that these new stylized archaic settings, although refurbished and repaired, will not critically engage the historical context that the Distillery District site participated within its historical surroundings. This Post-Industrial site in Toronto has participated considerably in the environmental degradation of
the adjacent Don River Tributary, and because of its previous political and commercial influence encouraged the construction of two major components in the instability of the Don River; the current Rail Line running up through the Don Valley, and the canalizing of the lower Don River. Unfortunately, the Distillery District Project has done little to address the adverse environmental impacts the Distillery District had on the adjacent Don River tributary through its principally commercial restoration efforts. Fortunately, the redevelopment does make an effort, regarding the reuse of post-industrial sites that forwards the safe keeping and active engagement of historical landmarks and creates a sense of architectural heritage for the City of Toronto. With respect to the Chaudiere, and the Cardboard Mill, this reengagement of a post-industrial site produces a sense of historical contextual culture; through multi-functional programs that make use of preceding architecture the Distillery District illustrates that through a commercial venture dedicated to arts, culture and entertainment a viable and relevant alternative to demolition or strict preservation can be achieved through the redevelopment of post-industrial sites.
Case Study No.2
The High Line Project; New York City [Field Operations; Diller, Scofidio+Renfro; Olafur Eliasson; Piet Oudolf; and Halie Light & L'Observatoire International]
During the mid 19th century, the City of New York approved the development and construction of street level railroad tracks in lower Manhattan to meet the emergent needs of large commercial freight movement. This new rail route was treacherous and often deadly as essential early industry rail traffic rove along the South-West side of Manhattan's Industrial and Residential boroughs. In 1929, after years of public debate regarding the treacherous road level conditions of the rail line, levels of municipal and state government from New York decided to implement a program entitled *The West Side Improvement Project*. This program would include an elevated high traffic rail line, the High Line, placed above street level but incorporated within building infrastructure, running through the centre of city blocks, to avoid the negative street level conditions of a lack of natural light at street level.
During the 1950s a decline in rail service on the High Line, due to improvements in hauling transportation, led to its eventual ineffectiveness as a commercial rail line; during the 1960s portions at the ends of the line were eliminated; and in 1980 rail service stopped entirely. Public and Private funding allowed the Friends of the High Line (FHL – an advocacy group) to maintain influence against political pressure from prominent city councilors that were in favor of its removal.
The unusual views atop the Rail line, witnessed during the abandoned state of the High Line, were the inspiration for its redevelopment as a park promenade. In addition, further enthusiasm for the redevelopment of the High Line came from precedents of converted post-industrial inactive elevated rail lines. Currently, the Urban Post-Industrial site of the High Line is being converted from its deteriorated and vacant state, as an archaeological relic, into an urban recreational corridor intended to create, among other things, additional
green space for the surrounding neighborhoods, but more importantly continuing the mnemonic evidence of the history of New York City.
Through the winning proposal for the High Line Project (by Field Operations; Diller, Scofidio+ Renfro; Olafur Eliasson; Piet Oudolf; and Halie Light & L’Observatoire International) that accepted the natural overgrown existing conditions of the elevated Rail Line as the unkempt natural component of its history; the Post-Industrial Site of the High Line will be transformed into a freely accessible park avenue, followed by commercial and residential occupancy; by means of inhabiting portions above and below the Rail Line; creating a relevant alternative to its demolition, and providing an opportunity to deepen a sense of connection to the historical mnemonic significance of its post-industrial past. Through limited architectural interventions that respond to accessibility in detailing ramps and exploring lift conditions, and designing an integrated path assembly that incorporates a park lined with indigenous plant arrangements, the project will invoke the mnemonic remains of an overgrown train track to include the present need of public leisure space, with the historical moments of the High Line’s participatory evolution.
The infrastructure of the rail line has weathered well, and is in good condition with a structural capacity that exceeds the proposed development. Restoration and inspection is required to remove harmful surface elements, and to verify structural integrity of the steel bulwark.63
The project team's intentions focused on the site's originality, partial seclusion, and wild natural over-growth in their approach to design; creating consistency through a singular design to express its originality; providing a sense of autonomy to create an independent character of the High Line, and through an agricultural architecture consisting of planting & pathways, an integrated system rather than a segregated collection, forms a single ongoing experience. The new plantings will contain a varied mixture of native & non-native species that support regional invertebrate and avian habitats; while removing 'invasive' species. Incorporated in the design of the rail line are arrangements of plants producing woody thickets, flowering meadows, wetland features, and skeletal forms through seasonal changes.64
The High Line serves a collection of interwoven matrices of mnemonic artifacts replaced on an interpreted recollection of the train track. Although placing historic artifacts along the interpreted train/pedestrian path might seem arbitrary, they function as reference points: their literal connections to the past, in fact act as means to connect with the historic memory of the newly interpreted articulation.
The commercial portion of the project will be limited predominantly to the underside of the line, while the elevated surface will be removed from evasive commercial activity. Although the High Line expresses a linear circulation, the project will contain points of interest & rest to generate a sense of gathering along the path in order to connect interstitially with surrounding communities.
The proposed path, in plan, resembles horizontally re-oriented railroad ties with differing masses of foliage that evoke the previous overgrown condition of the abandoned elevated rail line. This mnemonic method of evoking the past train tracks and its natural overgrown foliage, within the new design of the promenade, produces a phenomenal memory device.
that vibrates the many chronological states of the High Line – the past overgrown derelict elevated track, with the new pedestrian path – in one moment.
In addition to the redesign of the path, historical rail line articles will be incorporated back into the path, so that the experience of walking along the newly articulated park/path holds the three moments, or impressions, of the High Line’s existence at once. The reminiscent freight articles that will be replaced throughout the new path expand the immediate walking experience beyond the abandoned rail state, and into the time when freights rolled across the tracks, so as to include the original, the abandoned, and the interpreted track/park/path impressions all at once. Creating within this singular experience, multiple mnemonic moments that stimulates an individual’s perception of their present space of different times.
An adaptive reuse interpretation of the Cardboard Mill, will consider the incoming residential sectors, within the Lebreton Flats, in the design to incorporate the surrounding institutional and recreational communities. By providing unrestrained public access to the Chaudiere site within the Museum of Science & Technology venue, incorporation might better suture itself into the surrounding area. In addition, the mnemonically architectural design approach of invoking the previous condition of the overgrown rail line into the design of the High Line creating multiple mnemonic impressions – creating a phenomenal memory of place – will serve as a strategy for the redesign of the Cardboard Mill.
In Duisburg, Germany the Architects of Latz+Partners have recently completed a ten year project which redeveloped one of the City’s post industrial sites, belonging to Thyssen’s Steel Production Facilities, into a multi-programmatic park facility. The history of the Landscape Park bears witness to the social and economic origin that produced the Steel Industry for the City and the Emscher-Ruhr region, and has been allowed to continue a relationship with the land and its people through the reuse of its abandoned mnemonic artifacts. Through the interpretation of the remaining built remnants of the Thyssen Steel Production industry, in Duisburg, Latz+Partners have made that history relevant again, and extended the chronology of the site, through the progressive ecological and programmatic remediation of its site.
The original proprietors of the Steel Industry in Duisburg were Thyssen and Krupp, beginning the steel industrial revolution during the early 1900’s. This Steel Production industry unified the local population, and created a fundamental reliance on the Steel
Economy. Coal, required for the production of Steel, forged a pivotal relationship with Steel, and this was the economic driving force in the industrial development of the city, and the region. After the collapse of the steel industry in the early 1980’s, steel production at the plants seized, leaving a large anthology of industrial architecture on the polluted and impoverished landscape of Duisburg and the Emscher-Rhur region. The 5 acres of industrial wasteland that remained necessitated a participation in the social infrastructure of the remaining inhabitants of the city.
The proposal from Peter Latz (Lead Architect) called for preserving the industrial relics on site, and encouraged an interpretation of the existing built conditions to allow for new programmatic uses – recreation, commercial, and interpretive facilities. Within the competition that the City of Duisburg held for the redevelopment of the site, Latz’s proposal differed pragmatically from the others because of the intention to keep the existing infrastructures relatively intact, whereas other proposals, including the reservations from the City, were inclined to remove the remaining ruins to make way for new development. The reservations towards keeping the existing infrastructure were based on concerns of the site’s uselessness and toxicity; having to reengage the architectural ruins of the historic source of sustenance which disappeared, leaving the city abandoned. Reusing the abandoned post-industrial site challenged perceptions of progress and change, history and memory, things that the City could do with. Peter Latz’s proposal, through the rigorous exploration of the site’s remaining artifacts and its ecological damage sustained throughout the production of steel, handled the incorporation of a mutli-programmatic park facility with sensitivity for the immediate environmental area, and a social responsibility for the affected population.
The site was at one time the major economy for the City, and during the complete decline of the steel industry left the residents that depended on that Industry with nothing but the architectural remains. In 1989, the State Government initiated the International Building Exhibition (IBA) to prepare a strategy for the socio-economic and environmental redevelopment of the Emscher region through the Emscher Landscape Park.
The objectives of the current Emscher Landscape Park design are to preserve the remaining landscape, link up isolated existing post-industrial and environmental infrastructures of the region through re-zoning, and create administrative oversight in order to create a permanent regional park association. The approaches to reengage the site visually led, the Architects to employ lighting techniques that would re-interpret the archeological ruins. In addition, historic images of the site during the height of its industrial power were placed as billboards up along the sides of prominent buildings.
The phenomenal mnemonic experience of the Landscape Park, when it is encountered against the multiple visual impressions of the nightly lighting conditions and its industrial archaeology, surprise the viewer to drastically alter their previous mnemonic impressions of the site as a waste land of economic depression, and instead aim to re-imagine it as something else, critically engaging the unpleasant visual memory. On the other hand, the use of the historical image as billboard is simply used as a device to recall the past, but does not produce the critical reengagement with its history that, at any rate, the lighting conditions do. Even the pragmatic challenge, and freedom, of determining suitable programs for the many specific spaces within the existing infrastructure allowed for the critical adaptive reuse of interpreted existing infrastructure to remain relevant for the city, creating seasonal ampitheatres, convention centres, and a business park within the existing buildings. In addition, the existing Gasometer infrastructures had been converted into scuba diving pools, creating unique and specific training facilities. Another critical redesign in the park has been the transformation, through bio remediation and water treatment methods, of the Emscher River which runs through the park. Previously, the river had served as an open sewer.
channel receiving high levels of toxic manufacturing by-products. The new design culverts and diverts wastewater, while converting the Emscher into a collector for pretreated runoff and rainwater.68
Creative techniques were employed to treat runoff waters on site, instilling a formal aesthetic connection to the ecological process, in addition to preserving the overall function of water treatment.69 In contrast to the surrounding design interventions, other areas of the Park were treated in ways intended to minimize maintenance costs and reduce energy inputs, while recalling the previous abandoned natural history of the site.
In certain areas disturbed soils had high levels of concentrated slag, cinder, and remains of coal, among other toxic pollutants.70 These areas were treated through bioremediation, and in effect were being critical of the past and altering it, changing the past by undoing what previous ills were committed on the site.71 In addition over the years seeds from around the world were introduced along with industrial shipments, generating a substantial variety of
mix native and exotic species—these neophytes range up to 450 varieties. The current state of the park reflects well with the surrounding social city infrastructure and has created new mnemonic relevancy for the many generations of Duisburg.
With respect to the Cardboard Mill, the assistance of a critical position regarding the alteration of the public’s impression (or image) of the site, and the manner in which the site dealt with its ecological surroundings, in the past and in the proposed future will attempt to produce criticality in a phenomenal memory of the site.
Proposal
Museum of Science & Technology; Chaudiere Island, Ottawa
The Chaudiere consists of a chain of islands and water channels in the Ottawa River that have participated dramatically in the historical development of the Capital Region. The post-industrial site on the Chaudiere Island consists of numerous buildings with varying historical functions. A building that participated heavily in the formation of the area is the Cardboard Mill, located on the easterly portion of the Island.
Before the 1800’s the Ottawa River was an essential method of transportation for early explorers, and as travelers encountered the daunting Chaudiere falls portage landings were necessary for traversing the turbulent geography. These landings formed on both sides above, and below the river, and served as the foundation for small settlements in the area. Through the deforestation of the Ottawa region by local wood/pulp industries beginning in the 1800’s the recent abandonment and deterioration of the Cardboard Mill, on Chaudiere Island exhibits the resting point of an industry that at one time sustained the city through a Lumber, and Pulp & Paper Industry.
During the first half of the 19th Century, the Chaudiere Falls' energy potential attracted economic interest from industry looking for mechanical power. The use of the Chaudiere for energy established a grist and small-scale lumber mills. In addition to the energy capacity of the falls, the surrounding area provided an immense yield of timber and when combined, the Chaudiere and the timber lands produced an industrial boom for the area. By the mid 1800's, the Chaudiere was a major sawmilling powerhouse in North America. This industrial boom was led by J.R. Booth, an American entrepreneur who heavily exploited the region's natural resources and in turn contributed to the economic security of Ottawa.
In addition the economic importance of the Chaudiere, the Islands provided a crucial method for land transportation. In 1828 the Union Bridge, a wooden-arch structure, built by Colonel John By, spanned the narrow stretch over the falls, connecting both sides of early Canada.\textsuperscript{74} By the 1850's the wooden structures were replaced with one the earliest suspension bridges in North America.\textsuperscript{75}
During the second half the 19th Century, development on the Chaudiere included an expansion of transportation infrastructure that attracted various industries to the Islands. In addition to sawmills, the Chaudiere supported manufacturing plants, warehouses, furniture mills, breweries, a rail depot and several pioneer hydro-electric plants. But for the most part the Eastern portion of Chaudiere Island was used in the manufacturing of the wood, and wood products; the east end of the island was used for the drying of lumber.
During the beginning of the 20th Century the Chaudiere increased its industrial importance due to the area's potential for hydro energy, and witnessed an intense industrial development on the island, that reflected in the construction of large industrial structures on Chaudiere Island. The site was still predominantly used for the production of wood products - pulp & paper. By the mid-1900s industry on the Chaudiere had been reduced drastically by other industrial sites across North America.⁷⁷
During an NCC report conducted in 1984, on the existing conditions of the Cardboard Mill, it was determined that the remaining existing conditions could support an adaptive reuse project that addressed the non-reinforced concrete construction, timber posts supporting concrete flooring, and the structural instability on several roof conditions. Currently the Cardboard Mill, on Chaudiere Island, is in a state of disrepair, and abandonment. The company (Domtar) that currently owns the infrastructure has determined it to be condemned and unsafe for entry on the account of the failing roof members, throughout the structure. Assuming that the remaining roof structures fail, the remaining skeletal infrastructure will consist of external and internal wall conditions, and concrete flooring on concrete posts.
Cardboard Mill, present state; Basement Floor, Sub-Basement Floor Images: Author 2007©
Cardboard Mill, present state; Second Floor, Machine Floor Images: Author 2007©
Proposal
The need to unfreeze the Cardboard Mill from a literal memory, that keeps its history intact and obstructs its evolution, is crucial if we are to extend our participation with it simply beyond the confines of a monument to the past. Our connection to the area's collective historical significance, to the site's chronological programs, needs to impress the arrangements of many times and spaces in one. In order to deepen our sense of time, to deepen the sense of belonging more to a greater spatial whole, then to the ephemeral now, it is principal to instill a mnemonic presence that holds with it the many tactile proofs of the many pasts.
Ottawa offers limited opportunities in which we can participate with, and bring in to our present needs, its history through architecture, and create a deepened historically extended sense of place. Aside from preserved important institutions, literal memory collections, such as the many peace monuments, and other strictly distant reservoirs and shrines of the past, the city's places in which we can widen our combined engagement with the city's history into the present, are few and those seem delegated to continue this trend of historical preservation. Although these places might offer Halbwachs' proof of external memory, these monuments of the past only allow us to view them with detachment.
The problem with the need for cultural preservation of the instances of the past, for a conservation of the Cardboard Mill that preserves its architectural history intact (if it can preserve its past at all; if the buildings and the surrounding area can survive the abandonment of disrepair and disuse), is that these measures will only remove the Cardboard Mill from having any engaged participation in the present that celebrates, and criticizes, it's
past. Although that direction of literal memory might seem likely, the problem is that they may be interested in solely preserving the infrastructure, perhaps even recreating existing built conditions now removed, where these measures will only freeze it in the past, through a literal transparent picture, into what it was, and never into what we can.
The difficulty with the strict conservation of the Cardboard Mill is that from a fixed and frozen past, a literal memory of the historical mnemonic evidence of the industrial boom of Ottawa, the admittance of any type of evolution, or opportunity to bring it into the present through an incorporation of new programmatic requirements, such as a proposed Museum, will be limited through a mannered concern with its unmoving nature, a conservation distant and highly manicured. This approach for the Cardboard Mill would remove any opportunity to criticize its ecologically questionable past, and even partially acknowledge what came before the mill. An approach of literal preservation that keeps an architectural history intact denies its past, and removes the opportunity to redefine our intellectual positions and continue our presence.
The need to preserve our historic architectural remnants of the past so that perception of reality extends to include these mnemonic proofs of history is important for the extension of our current relation to Freud's reality that defines our ego, but paramount is the need to not make these preservations literal, and removed from the criticism from which we can engage in active discussion with these past intellectual positions of reality. We need not be restrained by fences of strict conservation that limit our contribution and involvement with the triumphs and errs of our cultural past; keep these objects of the past dusted and free
from contamination. Our need is to criticize and change past faults, and celebrate the complete evolving existence of a site’s participation in our future.
Through literal preservation of the Cardboard Mill we deny the opportunity to criticize what went wrong on the site; that it was responsible for the partial deforestation of the Outaouais region; that the dramatic industrial evolution of the building complex eventually cut off any physical relationship with the shoreline of the Chaudiere Island; and although substantial in the use of non reinforced concrete, the structure of the Mill requires reinforcement in order to continue its mnemonic dialogue with the present.
Design
*Museum of Science & Technology*
In creating an evolving critical *phenomenal memory* for the site of the Cardboard Mill, that incorporates a new Museum of Science and Technology, the following will address the articulation of the additional programmatic inclusion and its architectural necessities for a temporally expansive mnemonic collection of historical moments:
The design strategy addresses the existing conditions; the dilapidating and deteriorating non-reinforced concrete roof structure; and the dislocation from the waterside that the building enforces. The need for delicate lighting conditions for a museum requires an articulated roof system that provides appropriate shelter from overexposure. This roof system is explored mnemonically through the tactile suggestions of the historical phase of the Chaudiere when the site was a lumber drying field (plate I). The heights of the clerestories are determined through the programmatic needs of the spaces below.
To provide programmatic separation, a sense of division is articulated by dividing the existing building into islands that satisfy the programmatic needs of the museum; navigating these islands through bridges help evoke the historical and natural separations that previously composed the Chaudiere. These separations are made through incisions, articulated through corridors, that allow for physical access to the riverside (plate III, X), and orient the site with the Parliamentary Buildings and the Chaudiere Falls (plate XI).
The importance of image in memory is investigated through the use of reflective glazing and etched imagery (plate VII, VIII). By exploring different daily lighting conditions these
assembles provide multiple ambivalent impressions of place, evoking a deeper sense of place. In addition these areas of enclosure are points of vertical circulation (plate X), reinforcing the many mnemonic moments of place as vertical movement dictates change.
These points of glazing enclosed, existing non-reinforced, concrete conditions are considered in the natural evolution of the building. By allowing portions of the non-reinforced concrete building to deteriorate naturally (plate IX) in front of a properly enclosed inner shell, provides adequate curatorial measures for the museum, while the enclosed portions of the existing concrete remain acclimatized to the interior environment requirements of the museum. This continues the multiple ambivalent conditions of place, deepening the continually evolving present with remaining moments of the past, for the future of the museum and the building.
Plates
I - the drying stacks of lumber act as mnemonic reference points of departure for the design of the clerestory conditions
II - clerestory archetype, the height of the roof condition is adjusted to address spaces beneath
III - bridge design that provides differing amounts of transparency, views from east bridge connection & south corridor entrance
IV - reinforcing strategy for non-reinforced concrete conditions of the Mill; reinforcing window conditions allows for emphasis in detailing
V - roof and 2nd Floor axonometric views; differing roof, and reflective glazing conditions
VI - view from entrance and corridor intersection, towards parliamentary bridge buildings
VII - view from south; day - reflective image over protected portions of existing conditions, night - lighting measures expose existing conditions
VIII - view from north west
IX - erosion allowance: interior condition protects existing non-reinforced concrete through glazing barrier; exterior condition allows concrete to erode naturally while providing interior protection
X - plan of programmatic separation
XI - interior views from gallery balcony, and from vertical circulation access
Conclusion
Providing a process, and opportunity, for connection – especially in the membership of a growing collective memory for such a young nation – evolving and deepening one of the few potent remnants of architectural history that participated dramatically in the inception of Ottawa, the capital, and the citizens of this country is indeed “...a matter of urgency,”79 for now is “…the time of deepening territories.”
Bibliography
The Highline, *The history of the High Line* (http://www.thehighline.org)
Casey Jones, *Project report: Reclaiming the High Line* (http://www.designtrust.org)
Endnotes
1 Marot, 86
2 Marot, 86
3 Marot, 5
4 Sebastian Marot, Sub-Urbanism and the Art of Memory (Barcelona: SYL.ES, 2003)
7 Marot, 85
8 Marot, 86
10 Sub-Urbanism..., 10
11 The Art of Memory, 3
12 Marot, 12
13 The Art of Memory, 95
14 Marot, 16
15 The Art of Memory, 104
16 The Art of Memory, 176
17 Marot, 20
18 Marot, 20
19 Marot, 24
20 Marot, 24
22 Freud, 5
23 Freud, 6
24 Freud, 8
26 Gregory, 455
27 Gregory, 456
28 Gregory, 463
29 Gregory, 463
30 Gregory, 464
31 Gregory, 463
32 Marot, 24
33 Maurice Halbwachs, The Social Frameworks of Memory (citied in Marot, 30)
34 Marot, 30
35 Maurice Halbwachs, The Social Frameworks of Memory (citied in Marot, 30)
36 Maurice Halbwachs, The Social Frameworks of Memory (citied in Marot, 30)
37 Marot, 32
38 Marot, 32
39 Marot, 32
40 Marot, 40
41 Robert Smithson, Monuments of Passiac (citied in Marot, 44)
42 Marot, 60
43 Herman Hertzberger, Lessons in Architecture (Rotterdam: Uitgeverij 010 Publishers 1993)
44 Marot, 60
45 Marot, p. 62
46 Marot, p. 62
47 Marot, p. 64
48 Marot, 74
49 Marot, 86
51 The Distillery The History of Gooderham & Wort; thedistillerydistrict.com
52 The Distillery
The Toronto Star (http://www.thestar.com/living/article/227314)
The Distillery
The Distillery
The Distillery
The Toronto Star (http://www.thestar.com/living/article/227314)
The History of the High Line, thehighline.org/history.html
Duisburg Strategy; arch.hku.hk/teaching/cases/Duisburg/Duisburg_Strategy.htm
Duisburg Aims; arch.hku.hk/teaching/cases/Duisburg/Duisburg_Aims.htm
Lucien Brault, Links between two Cities (Ottawa, National Library of Canada 1989)
Marot, 86
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. |
So for today's lecture we have Jason Ku guest lecturing. And he's the president of Origami, which you should all check out Sunday afternoons, origami club at MIT. He’s an origami designer and a grad student in mechanical engineering, and he's going to talk about the more artistic perspective on how origami design works, in particular in the representational and tree method of origami design world. So take it away, Jason.
Hi. I'm Jason. Eric gave a bit of an introduction. I've been folding origami instance maybe I was five years old, and I've been designing origami for maybe the past 10 years. I'm a PhD student in mechanical engineering, working in folding things on the micro and nano scale. So that's how this is applying to my research.
I'm here to talk a little bit about origami art and how the concepts we've been talking about in class apply to origami in actually designing and folding artwork out of paper. These are all the websites that I'm going to be pulling pictures from. So if we can't use these pictures in future versions of this lecture, then you can still see some of the media.
I want first make the analogy of origami art to music. Many, many people make this analogy, and it's actually very apt analogy. In music you have composers, you have people who produce a work of music, design the structure, design what the main aspects of the piece are, in terms of a structural sense, but aren't necessarily performers themselves.
Now in origami, the performer and the composer are usually one and the same. But hopefully in the future, that won't always be the case. In music the composer usually makes a piece for multiple instruments or multiple voices or things like that, so most the time can't do all that performance. And some people are more gifted in the performance side. Some people are more gifted in the composition side. And I think it's a fairly apt analogy.
There's tons of mathematics in music. There's tons of mathematics in origami. But
there's also this level of artistic complexity, which we'll see later in this lecture.
I'm going to concentrate mostly on representational origami. Representational origami is traditionally representing living things in our world, but it's pretty much, you see something not necessarily living, but you see something and you want to make that form for the form's sake, to represent that form. And this is different than, say, patterning to create artistic patterns on a sheet of paper, tessellating, making geometric polyhedra, or making more abstract art that doesn't necessarily have a relation to a real world object.
So I'm going to start with a little bit about origami art. We've heard this. Eric mentioned this particular individual, Akira Yoshizawa. He is widely understood to be the father of modern origami. He was born in 1911. He was around for a very long time. Unfortunately, passed away in 2005. I was lucky enough to get to meet Akira Yoshizawa when he attended a convention in North Carolina when I was maybe around 10.
He was very powerful and influential in the world of origami, because he was one of the first people to start creating new models, be able to look at an object and create that object just from folding. He was one of the first people to actually try to make a large number of new models, as opposed to the past many centuries when only a few traditional models were known or pursued.
This is a picture of Yoshizawa right here. He's fairly happy in this picture. But he's holding the logo of the US organization in origami, OrigamiUSA, which is this sailboat.
But as you can see, different than the traditional origami crane or the frog or things like that, you see a lot of curves in his work, a lot of shaping. He uses a technique called wet-folding, in which he weakens the paper to some degree, weakens the paper fibers by applying water, shaping the paper, and letting it dry so that it holds that form. And you can see in this sparrow-- this is particularly one of my favorite works by Yoshizawa-- it really has the essence of this little bird, but is actually very simple and elegant.
Origami design isn't all about making the most complex thing in the world. It's really trying to represent a subject elegantly. And I think this model does a very good job with that. But you can see here, very clean surfaces, not a lot of extra creases that you can see. Traditionally, wet-folding uses thicker paper and is slightly more substantial. So here are some of his other works.
And I want to start out with Yoshizawa because he was represented as the father and the master, and many, many of the origami designers, if not all of the origami designers that I'm going to continue to talk about were heavily influenced by Yoshizawa.
So I'm going to first talk about the traditional style. And I'm going to compare it to, say, the crane or the frog. These types of models are characterized by straight, well-defined, polygons in the final form, typically folded flat. Little shaping is traditionally needed to go from the base of the model to the final form. It's very geometric, these models, characterized by very straight, precise creases.
So here is, I think, a very good example of this traditional style. While there are some curves here, everything is very well-defined, maybe just a slight shaping here. But even that is fairly well-defined. But you can see Komatsu, Hideo Komatsu, a Japanese folder, uses really clean, large polygons of open paper without creases on them to represent polygons on the model. The folded form.
His design process isn't really using tree theory. I mean, all origami design is subjected to the condition that no two points on the unfolded square can increase in distance in the folded form. That's a property called developability of the paper. The paper's not going to stretch, basically. So all origami design is subject to that condition, but you don't have to deal with necessarily these things called uniaxial bases. Pretty much all of these models are non-uniaxial.
His design process is kind of a trial and error process of folding along different 22.5 degree grids. 22.5 degrees is, I guess, 1/8 of pi. 1/16 of 360 degrees. And it's a particularly nice and useful discretization of angles in origami design.
All the traditional bases are based on this 22.5 degree grid system. And there’s a
certain elegance of that. Actually I think, the mouse is based on a 30 degree grid
system, but is kind of an exception, but follows the same principles.
He keeps folding a piece of paper and tries to get these geometric shapes that
really are able to by themselves capture the model. And I’m going to use some of
that design technique later in a design example. He has a small but very
distinguished repertoire because his process is less algorithmic-- I mean, he has
algorithms, I’m sure, that are difficult to describe, but his process is actually very
artistic. And while it’s very exact, I think it’s one of the most elegant examples of
origami design.
Here’s another example of the traditional style. As you can see, there's slightly more
curves and things in it, but it’s fairly well characterized by these straight creases.
Heavier paper for wet-folding.
This model on the left here is box pleated. So as opposed to the 22.5 degrees
structure, box pleating is characterized by only multiples of 45 degrees. So pi over
4. And so you see the grid here, this model is based on a fairly large grid, so you
can get the detail that it needs. These are not uniaxial bases, again, but they’re still
limited by this stretch ability constraint.
And those were styles that stemmed from the traditional crisp folding of say the
crane and the crab and the frog and all these traditional designs. The non-
traditional style is more an extension of Yoshizawa's work and shaping and curved
folding and things like wet-folding. There is much shape that needs to be done to
create the essence of the model. The model is encapsulated by not necessarily the
structure as much, but of the final shaping, the undefined shaping that you kind of
put into the model.
Here's an example of an English folder named David Brill, who is an investment
banker, if my memory serves me. He now lives on a golf course. And I think he's
retired now, but he likes to fold paper. But you can see here, a good example of this
style, thick paper.
The character of the model is really defined by these curved tension folds, which is slightly different than at least the traditional style. And oftentimes, it's very, very difficult to replicate to any of these types of models, because it has so much to do with subjectivity as opposed to objectivity, as in the traditional style.
Here's another good example, Michael LaFosse. He's a paper folder who actually resides here in Massachusetts. He's in Haverhill, "Have-er-ill," something like that, Massachusetts.
He is unique in origami designers in the fact that he is also an avid paper maker. So he actually makes a lot of the media which he folds. And that gives this intimate relationship between the life cycle of the paper. He's able to make specialty paper that's really necessary to make some of the most complex works out there.
He's gone to culinary school. He was a chef for a while. And he was also a marine biologist for a while. So these origami artists have come from many different walks of life.
This next folder, Eric Joisel, he's a Frenchman, lives in Paris. He was a former clay sculptor. And actually, I think you can really see that in his work, the kind of solidness and really cohesiveness of his composition. All the detail and texturing are very well thought out in terms of the subject as a complete piece. Heavily influenced by Yoshizawa.
A lot of this use of texture, incorporating texture into his models, he was a big pioneer in that area. This texturing is fairly obviously non-uniaxial. He doesn't go through a tree method and represent each one of these points as a stick in a stick figure. These flaps don't lie along an axis. They don't hinge perpendicular to that axis. Yet he's able to create these amazing forms in paper.
He has stopped doing clay sculpture and does origami full time now. He's very well known for his depiction of the human form. This is taken from a collection of masks. He's done numerous, numerous masks that are really very expressive. He was one
of the first people to really, for me at least, evoke emotion and convey emotion in his work.
But you can see here, the structural crease pattern for this face is actually very, very simple. It’s kind of represented by a few pleats. But the amount of work used to transform that very simple form into this very expressive, curved work of art is kind of astonishing.
Here’s a more recent work of the entire human form. You see how this is starting to come as some sort of blend between the traditional and nontraditional forms. It lies somewhere along the spectrum. But it’s a very complex model, so it had needs to have this structural complexity. But at the same time, he shapes it to an extent that very few people can do.
I’m paraphrasing a quote of his, but he’s of the opinion that if you can reproduce exactly a piece of origami then it’s not really art, because you’re not putting anything more into the model, if it doesn’t have something unique and original and something that can’t be reproduced in the model.
Here’s two fantastic subjects in terms of art, to me. Very Escher-like and it’s self-referencing. This is called the *Self-made Man*. And I forget the title of this work, but he’s basically emerging from the paper. You see that his arm and leg are not actually finished. I think this is called *Birth*, actually.
But really, using paper to express an artistic idea, very few people get to that stage of competency with the technical and being able to infuse that emotion into the subject. So Eric Joisel is a pioneer in that realm of origami art.
Here are three very, very complex-- These are very recent works, probably within the last year or two. Lots of use of texturing to make the armor here. Lots of planning, tree theory included. These are mostly box pleated models, but you can’t really tell from here because of his impeccable ability to shape a model.
I’m going to remind you guys that everything I’m showing to you is a representational work. Each one of these is made from a single uncut square. Pretty
much, I believe everything I’m going to show you today has that property.
AUDIENCE: When people fold these, do they fold them by hand or do they need special tools? To me, this looks like it would be completely impossible to just fold it by hand.
JASON KU: These are actually fairly large works. Each one stands maybe about that tall. So the paper’s very large to begin. But yeah, I believe he just uses his hands and this wet-folding technique to allow things to be held in place. I mean, many people, including Eric Joisel, use clips and braces and things like that to hold certain things in place while he’s working on other areas of the model, but it’s pretty much by hand. Some people use tweezers or things like that. But most of it is by hand.
AUDIENCE: Does he add color or shade or those things?
JASON KU: Sometimes. For example, that mask I think was speckled with paint after, before or after. There are different opinions on this idea of origami purity. I like Robert Lang’s definition of origami, that it’s any work whose primary structure is defined by folding. And that’s a very broad definition of origami. But I think it works really well.
So if the subject matter is still heavily characterized by the folding and not some other thing that you do to the model, I think most people are OK with that, as long as you’re not trying to pass it off as something it’s not. There are many origami designers to do multi-sheet things and do very complex works and very beautiful pieces of art.
I think Joseph Wu is a great example of this, who I don’t have pictures of his work. But he doesn’t try to pass them off a single sheet origami. He is a very skilled designer. He could do it with a single sheet, but he finds that the solution is more elegant using multiple sheets. Any other questions?
Just one more picture of some of Joisel’s work. He actually made an entire orchestra of these little guys. This is two sheets. The saxophone is a different sheet. But again, he’s not trying to pass them off as being the same sheet here, whereas in here, the weapons actually are from the same sheet of paper.
And these multi-subject pieces, each one of these, it's not all three of them together as one sheet. Just to clarify. But these multi-subject, trying to represents clothes, and weapons, and the human, and all these types of things, is becoming more and more a way to a push the limits of origami design. So again, trying to breathe life into the paper is really what Yoshizawa's mantra was, and so is Eric Joisel's.
All right. So I'm going to move on to this independent concept of really the ability that we have right now to pretty much-- We have the algorithms to make anything we want and really trying to capture that is this idea that I call this modern realism. The style, like Eric Joisel's work, kind of follow along the spectrum of this rigid structure and this free-form shaping, but really try to capture this realism of the subject.
So I think Robert Lang is one of the foremost origami designers in this kind of area. He’s a guy from California who is a pioneer of algorithmic origami design. You've heard his name a number of times. He has kind of codified tree theory, if not one of the pioneers of establishing that research himself. He wrote the program TreeMaker that you guys are all probably using to do your homework.
He was at Caltech Ph.D., and was a laser physicist for NASA. And he decided maybe less than 10 years ago to quit and do origami full time. So that's what he does now. So here’s a number of his works. Very complex, very exact.
For example, he was a huge pioneer of what we call the Bug Wars. When we had these tools at our disposal to make very complex trees, we can represent very, very complex subjects. And that led to this Bug Wars of trying to one-up each other on how many legs you could make or things like that.
So here's a centipede, for example, with lots and lots of legs. And the exactness to which we can specify the tree is phenomenal. For example, the scorpion here is a design that Robert Lang has approached-- a subject he’s approached-- many, many, many times.
This is a design that I particularly like. It's very clean in its folded and its structural
forms. But he actually used TreeMaker and designed each of these pairs of legs to actually be increasing in length as they go back. So really being very exact with the proportions of the model, the proportions in the tree. And tree theory really allows you to do that, to capture that.
Here’s a slide for the mathematicians in here. This is not one square sheet of paper. This is probably the only model here that isn't. But it's what we call modular origami, making a single unit and sticking them all together in a very complex and elegant way. Here’s a representation of some of the tessellation work that Robert Lang has been working on. This is a vase form.
And all these, or at least these three, were very much characterized by using mathematics to find these forms. And while they’re very heavily rooted in mathematics. Mathematics, as I’m sure all of us can appreciate, is an elegant subject in and of itself. There are elegant solutions to problems. And in origami it's particularly nice, because these elegant solutions often are very elegant and pleasing to the eye, as well.
So this is also a Klein bottle. It's kind of a joke. But it topologically does intersect and things like that. So in an interesting work.
I want to move on to a guy named Brian Chan, who is an alumni of MIT. He got his bachelor’s, his master’s, and his Ph.D. at MIT. He defended his Ph.D. in 2009, but he's still around Cambridge. He is a big pioneer of pushing the limits of complex folding. He's picked up origami design very quickly. And so it is possible to do. So I encourage all of you to try it.
Here is an example of a very, very complex centipede that he designed kind of in response to Robert Lang's. There's a huge history of really trying to one-up each other in origami. And it really helps spur the creativity. And playful competition is very useful to any subject.
These multi-subject things, like this rose, the stem and the petals itself, all from one square sheet of paper. He uses color change. One side of the paper is red; one
side of the paper is green. There have been tons of people that design just the rose part of the rose, and then they make an additional stem and stick it on. This is the first one-piece model of that. And was somewhat influential in that respect.
Here’s a very complex, textured character from an anime TV show. I forget which one it’s called.
AUDIENCE: *Rozen Maiden.*
JASON KU: *Rozen Maiden* Thank you. That is correct. But you really can see his use of color change here. Again, being able to make this cross in the fabric here. The zigzags of lace, and this texturing of the dress, very, very complex, in its form. But these are all actually uniaxial bases, all come from this idea of tree theory, being able to map things on your subject to the sheet of paper in an algorithmic way.
Here’s a very complex, another anime work, a Neko Bus. Neko is, I believe, Japanese for cat. And it’s very, very complex. Again, similar to the centipede. Lots and lots of points. But this tree is actually kind of represented by-- There’s a head region and there’s many points sticking out on both sides. And then this flap kind of comes over and attaches up here, and you’ve got the tail.
Here’s another example of a multi-subject model. Every year there’s a design challenge in New York for origami. And this was the sailing ship category. And he kind of went another direction with it. He did make a sailing ship, but this is a kraken attacking the ship. He’s got a little person in one of his tentacles. Part of the ship and the ship itself, and it’s all one square sheet of paper without cutting.
And if that wasn’t enough, then the MIT seal, as well. One square sheet of paper without cutting. The mens and manus, so the mind and hand. And I believe this isn’t traditionally a crane, but yeah.
The last person I want to touch on is a guy named Satoshi Kamiya, who’s represented as probably the foremost pioneer of super-complex origami. He is a little further on the spectrum on the traditional style than many of these other super-complex folders, characterized by kind of very exact, straight creases, this texturing
for example, a unique balance between making a very cleanly folded-- The Japanese traditionally make very clean subjects in terms of exactness and form.
Here's a little more shaping in the wet-folding. But again, this is one of my favorite works of his, another Lord of the Rings character. What’s neat about this sea turtle actually, the diagrams for it were just published. I first all this work in 2001 or something like that. But it has these plates on the back, this texture, but it also has plates on the front of the model. So you can actually pick it up, and it looks very, very convincing.
Here are some more models by him. Again, you can see a lot of this texturing here in this wasp, very clean folding. A dog, multi-headed dog, a caribou with very complicated antler patterns, and this dragon. And again, you see the crisp, clean folding, but at the same time very well-planned and well-designed 3D structure to be shaped afterwards.
Here's another work that I particularly enjoy. Really lending this texturing he applies throughout the model, and it’s a very cohesive subject, from an artistic sense. It's very complete. There's the same level of detail everywhere on the model, which is very useful.
And I'm going to kind of end this artistic side with a model which is widely regarded as the most complex single work in origami. This took Kamiya over the course of a year to fold. There's thousands of scales on this guy. And again, it's one square sheet of paper without cutting.
You see that it's a very long model. You’d think that this subject would be much better represented by a long rectangle or something like that. But actually it's very symmetric. This crease pattern, which we'll look at later, actually has an asymmetric crease pattern and is quite ingenious in how he decides to accomplish this form and structure.
If you're interested in learning more about the origami art side of things, there’s this phenomenal document documentary which you can and purchase online. Or I've
believe OrigaMIT has a copy of this, and we'll probably be screening it some time this semester or next. It's called *Between the Folds*. And it features, among others, both Erik and Marty Demaine, Robert Lang, and many more. And there's a picture of Stata from the film.
Now we're going to move on a little bit to origami design. We've learned what the algorithms are behind a lot of origami design, but now we're going to see how that applies more directly to creating a representational work of art.
If you're really serious about wanting to get into origami design, this book, *Origami Design Secrets* by Robert Lang, is really the first major book on the methods of origami design. Most origami books are traditionally about diagrams, trying to fold specific models. This is the first book really to lay out some of the ground rules of how you create models. And it goes through a number of the things we've talked about.
So just to review a little bit about tree theory, the idea, the process is you start with a subject, like this picture I took at a Japanese museum of a little crab. You kind of draw a little stick figure of what that crab might look like in a one-dimensional form, characterized just by the lengths of these flaps and the connectedness. You go from here to here to an origami base, which has all of those flaps of the right length and connected in the right way. And then you shape it into an origami model.
Now this method, this step here might seem hard to you guys. With a little experience, it's actually very reasonable to assume that someone fairly well versed in the vocabulary of origami will be able to accomplish that step. This step, again, this kind of child's play, somewhat. It's actually not, to do it really well, to represent this model as a stick figure, and we'll see that when we try to go through an example.
This step is the one where algorithms and mathematics really help to do a lot of the work for us, and essentially is kind of the easy part from our perspective, because it's kind of methodical and there's algorithms involved to help us out.
The most artistic and free things we can do with origami design are kind of this step in the shaping and this step in defining the proportions. In this step really you define what the abstraction you choose to characterize in your model. Like here, we are choosing to represent all four legs on either side. You don't have too. But we also decided to model the eyes and the claws as is.
But an underbelly to a crab. We could have modeled that with the texture. We could have modeled the little mouth parts of the crab. There are many things we could choose to model on here that we don't choose to. So this is one level of abstraction.
And this comes with a lot of choice. Here, there's lots of algorithms and math to help us out. But as we'll see, there is actually a lot of choice going from here to here as well, artistic choice, and from here to here, again, probably the most blatant way that an artist can put his style in essence into an origami work.
AUDIENCE: What is the extra fringe?
JASON KU: Which one? This?
AUDIENCE: Diagonal from the top.
AUDIENCE: On the left.
JASON KU: On the left. Oh, this? OK. So I modeled here the body of this crab as a flap coming from here. I kind of wanted a flap to cover the rest of this. And so that's why I've added this leg of the tree there. While branch edges-- this is a branch edge, it doesn't terminate-- will provide paper in that region, as we'll see later, branch edges of the tree, rivers in the space allocation, really don't lend themselves to being shaped very easily. And so if I isolate that body segment as a leaf edge for itself, then I can actually do control a little more about how I'm able to shape it. Good question.
So we're going to review a little bit about uniaxial bases. This these are the definitions that Erik Demaine posed in the algorithm, I think in lecture four. Again, you have this uniaxial base. It has these characteristics that it's in the positive space
above the $z = 0$ plane. And that's kind of represented here.
The intersection with that plane is the projection. So if you shine the light above it, it would cast a shadow of a stick figure out, which is exactly kind of what we want. We want to make an origami base that associates itself with a stick figure. And then we partition the faces into flaps. So there's all these definitions.
I think to put these in kind of layman's terms from an origami designer's point of view, what do these really mean? Really, the important characteristics that we want are that the flaps lie along or straddle a single line. Because if they do that, then we could just fold it in half and it will have that property of everything being above an axis and everything lying along an axis, and that the flaps hinge perpendicular to that axis.
The reason why we need the flaps to hinge perpendicular to the axis is if they don't hinge perpendicular to the axis then you will not be able to create a projection to the plane that is a one-dimensional stick figure. If these hinges are tilted then that line will project to a line instead of a point, like we'd want. We'd want it to project to a single node on the tree.
In any of these uniaxial bases, think about the base being thinned in the limiting case, that we can create folds parallel to this axis and thin this model until it's right along the axis. And then in that limiting case it is a stick figure, essentially. And once it is a stick figure, layering and orientation of the flaps really don't matter, because it is the stick figure.
So this is kind of an informal definition, but we'll use these later in the lecture. So what is a flap? We kind of made this argument a couple lectures ago. So we want to model a flap, so that we can kind of stick it together. And this is kind of an intuitive sense of we take a sheet of paper, we thin it a little bit, we hinge it perpendicular to some axis. And when we do and we unfold the paper, we see that it takes up this kind of quarter octagon of paper.
Now, if we continue to thin this, if we make it really, really thin, you see how deep
the boundary, this fold that we make, will little closer and closer approximate a
circle. Everyone see that? It's kind of like an umbrella. I like this analogy with an
umbrella. That you have a single point that's the center the umbrella, and when you
close the umbrella, all of the umbrella kind of maps to a single line.
And so it's neat to see on the paper. It's kind of what you could think of as a
projection to this tree. Lines on the unfolded square, these lines at the edges of the
circle, map to a single point on this flap, or infinitely thin flap, or essentially the tree.
This is kind of a leaf edge of our tree. And so everything along this line maps to a
single point, is compressed onto a single point.
You can do that with any point going up this flap. We can actually pick off a point
here, and we see a line of constant elevation with respect to this flap. And so now
we've created a very, very simple tree. Instead of one leaf edge extending off of the
rest of the model, we have a branch edge, and then a leaf edge. And this branch
edge is corresponding to this strip of paper here of constant width. That's what we
call a river.
And we see that a circle is just a limiting case of a river. Rivers separates two parts
of the model off from each other by a constant distance. That's what that constant
thickness strip of paper means. And the circle is really just a limiting case off that
river that separates only a single point away from the rest of the model. That's all I
want to say about that.
And we can actually tile these rivers onto a plane to create arbitrary trees. So here's
an example of the correspondence. I call these circle/river packings. That's the
common term in origami design. This is a circle/river packing. It's kind of a space
allocation.
It's an idealization. The model we make is actually not going to be infinitely thin. So
each flap is going to take up more space than these circles. But it's a good
idealization. This circle/river packing or this space allocation actually maps uniquely
to as a tree.
So if we go through it, this point, this circle here might map to this line on the tree. It can actually also map to this line, this edge or this edge, as well. Because I don't really care how these flaps are oriented.
The tree is just supposed to preserve length and connectedness. It doesn't really have to do with where they're mapped. And so we'll see some examples of that later. But we can kind of go through this tree and see all the different aspects of it, how the edges correspond to circles and rivers on the packing.
And we're going to do a little bit of practice for that, because I think that was one of the day hardest parts for me starting out in origami design, was being able to be comfortable with going from a tree to a space allocation, from a space allocation to a tree. Getting that concept in my head was kind of difficult.
So how about we practice a little bit. We have this space allocation of maybe two circles, a river, and three more circles. I'll just give you a second to see which one of these trees is represented by this space allocation. Or should I say how many of these. Because some of these trees might be equivalent.
So we're going to start with the upper right one here. Does it correspond to this space allocation? Yes or no? No. Why?
AUDIENCE: [INAUDIBLE]
JASON KU: Yeah. So the topology's kind of wrong. You've got three equal length flaps up here, which is what we want. We want three equal length flaps separated off from the rest of the model by a river of the same length. That makes sense.
But instead of separating off two flaps, two leaf edges of maybe twice the length, it separates three of the same length, which doesn't quite work out. So the distances and the connectivity's kind of off here, just terms of the numbers. So this one's wrong.
How about this one? Yes. Right? It has the right topology. This one? No, again. The wrong topology. There is, again, three separated from two by a branch edge. But it
doesn't have the right lengths associated with this space allocation.
And how about this one? Yes. Right? I've transformed this tree from here to here. I just moved them around with respect to each other. They're equivalent, in terms of how we choose our tree.
And this will be important when we actually use TreeMaker. Because it doesn't matter how we orient things in our tree, we can manipulate where we put our circles on the paper to get the same tree. The mapping from here to a tree is unique. Mapping from a tree to a space allocation is not, which leads to interesting design choices that you can make in designing an origami model. Yeah, those two.
One more time. We'll go through this one a little quicker. I'll give you maybe five seconds or so. So we're going to start with this one, the first one. Does that map to this space allocation?
AUDIENCE: [INAUDIBLE]
JASON KU: Yes, it does. We have two equal length set off from the same length to equal, and then one twice as big.
And see how I've actually added a redundant node here. I've split this leaf edge into a branch edge and a leaf edge. That's kind of a redundant node that I don't really need. It doesn't really change the topology of this at all. It would just map to a line right here. Everyone see that?
How about this one? No. Right? For a number of reasons that I won't go into. How about this one? No. Again, the distances and the topology are wrong. This one? No. This is actually one of the trees from the slide before.
And this one? Yes. This is actually just a manipulation of that tree. So yay! We're awesome.
Now, going the other way is not necessarily unique. So there would be multiple answers here. Is this a correct representation of this tree? Yes or no?
AUDIENCE: No.
JASON KU: It has the correct topology, right? It has three equal length flaps separated off by a river from three equal length flaps. That's what we have here.
But this river is actually twice as long as any of these flaps. So this is actually a little bit shorter than the length of any of these flaps, not really working for us there.
How about this one? No, for pretty much the same reason. It actually has a very similar, if not identical, tree to this one. How about this one? No, topological problems there.
This one? Yes. So it's got three equal length flaps separated off by a large 2x river, I guess.
And this one? No, for the same reason here. And here we can actually see three different packings of a very similar, if not same, tree. And this goes to show you that there could be many different ways we could put these disks on a sheet of paper that could either improve efficiency or be more useful.
For example, this packing has a central flap. We may or may not want that central flap. You can see that a central flap will use more paper than a flap at the corner or the edge of the paper, because it has 360 degrees of paper that you have to fold as opposed to 180 or even just 90 degrees of paper.
So typically in origami design, if you have a flap you need a little bit of bulk in, a little more paper, you might want to consider making that a central flap. If you want to make a very thin, maybe an antenna or something, a corner flap might be a better choice. So correct, in that sense.
Now again, I want to stress the fact that this is an idealization. These are circles. They don't really account for all the paper in the square. This paper between the circles and the rivers is not really used. Pretty much everything in this no man's land here actually maps to a single point in the tree right. This is a bad example, so I'll use this correspondence. This kind of looks like a bikini or something like that.
That's neither here nor there.
But this space all maps to one of these branch nodes. Everyone see that? Because in the situation where we thin this model infinitely, this is kind of extra space that we kind of just don't even deal with. In reality, that extra space will have to go into either the rivers or the circles in the packing.
So the reason why uniaxial bases are nice in this model is because since all they hinge creases of the model, basically the boundary of the flap with the model, hinge 90 degrees to some axis, then its projection maps to a single point. So if we cut off all the flaps along the hinge creases, we should actually get a very similar mapping to what we have here.
And here's an example of a fairly complex model. But you can see, I've just highlighted the locus of possible hinge creases on this model. There's a unique way to do this. I won't go into it. But there is a unique way to add these hinge creases.
But as you can see, the idea is very similar. But instead of having these curves of constant width, you have these discrete angular curves of constant width. So for example here, you have a river of constant width that changes directions at a discrete corner, but it's still a strip of constant width. Everyone see that?
So maybe we could go ahead and see-- If we had this crease pattern and we didn't know what the model was, we could actually pick off the tree and figure out what this model is. So maybe we start with these two points down here. They're all points separated off the rest of the model by a certain distance.
And that distance here, all these lines that are connected must be at the same location, the same node on the tree, because all those hinge creases must map to a single point. So these two flaps connect with each other because they share this set of hinge creases. And so that's that point right there.
I'm going to ignore these two flaps at the bottom for now. We have this big long river. I'm just going to deal with the big points first. And that connects to two more big points. Everyone see that? I don't want to go too fast.
And actually, you can do that. You can just keep doing that, and methodically picking off distances on this hinge crease representation, this is discrete space allocation and fill in the whole tree. Anyone can think of what this might be? Maybe a four-legged animal with antlers, like maybe a moose. So this is a model I designed, I think, my freshman year as an undergrad.
AUDIENCE: What happens when you have the squares inside the squares?
JASON KU: That's an excellent question. First, I want to answer one other question before I get to that one. Here, these polygons, these squares, you could think of maybe putting a circle in them. And the square is taking up more paper than the circle, and so the flap that this represents would be the largest circle that would be fully contained in that square. And that would be the length of that flap.
What does it mean to have instead of this point separated off from the rest of the model have a line separated off from the rest of the model? Can anyone guess why would you want that as an origami designer?
Well, you might want that property if you want not just a point separated off from the rest of the model, but a line. You might want thickness. It's a qualification of thickness of that flap at the extreme distance away from the model.
And I don't have this example with me. I talked about it yesterday at the OrigaMIT lecture. But let's say you wanted to model a butterfly wing. It's not well characterized by a stick. Its thickness is kind of important. So how I designed a butterfly wing is I separated a line off from the rest of the model, something similar to this, so that I would have enough paper to kind of spread out that idealized single point. I could spread the end of that point to have some thickness and to make a full butterfly wing.
And what you’re saying is what does it mean to have these points, these single leaf edges, separated off kind of surrounded by river? You see what that means? Yep, this is just a river. Rivers, again, don't have to go all the way across a model. They can also connect. You're separating these two points off from the rest of the model
by a certain constant distance. So excellent question.
And as I promised before, I want to take a look a little bit about the structure of this model. It looks very symmetric, right? And you’d think that maybe it would be well represented by a rectangle of paper instead of a square. How do you fit this into a square by still having this detail?
How do you think this texture was made? Anybody? It's kind of just pleating the paper back and forth. If you’ve ever taken a sheet of paper and pleated it to form a texture, kind of a one-dimensional problem, but you’re pleating it. But after you pleat it, it's smaller.
If we take a look at the crease pattern here—This is actually a crease pattern to an earlier version of this model. This is slightly less detailed, if you can imagine, than this model right here. What do you think this is? Maybe the scales, right? This is the head region.
We can actually do a rough version, perform a rough version of this kind of hinge crease representation, and get an idea for the structure of this model. So here, we see the tail. I'll talk about this later. We have the two back feet separated off from the rest of the model by a distance. That’s this distance here. Two more feet. This is kind of the neck region. And here’s the head.
OK. So this looks kind of weird. I haven’t really been specific about the details here. But what does that pleating do? Well, it shrinks the useful area of the paper, because I pleated it. So that’s why here the length of this flap is this distance here. That’s the length of the tail.
But when I make pleats, this thing shrinks. And it actually shrinks to this distance. This whole thing is cut in half. So we make these pleats, it shrinks, and then it can lie along this segment.
Then this area here also shrinks by half. So the length is here. And it is able to cover this aspect, this part of this middle river with texture. Please ask questions,
because this is complex.
**AUDIENCE:** What's the distance between the front and back legs?
**JASON KU:** Yes. So this is the distance between the front and back legs. But we have to cover it with texture. There's no texture here. So what we do is create this extra flap here where the back legs are with a length of half of this, and cover it with texture. So that's what he's done here. And so the same goes for here. It's not quite half down here, but this covers up the rest of that section.
And there's actually some overlap so that they can mesh correctly. Then here, we have enough paper to provide texture to the neck region, and then there's the head. It's kind of an ingenious way of actually the top and bottom, this top texture and this bottom texture, folding up onto this line segment which represents the length of the dragon, and still having space for these toes and feet. It's an ingenious way to distribute the paper, in this case.
Here we can understand another reason why we might want to separate a line off from the rest of the model, because then that line has some thickness, you have a certain amount of space out there, and you can actually then create more points from that line being out at a certain distance. We can create a number of little points, which are then toes. So I thought that was pretty cool. One of my favorite examples of structure.
**AUDIENCE:** [INAUDIBLE]
**JASON KU:** These were all drawn by hand using a program very similar to Adobe Illustrator. So yeah, it's very tedious, and lots of copying and pasting.
But you should see the more complicated version of this pattern. Because as you can see on this model here, there are actually scales on the feet part itself. These claws actually are longer in proportion to everything else in the model. So we actually add some more things. There's also a strip of paper here that has spines on the back. This crease pattern doesn't represent those things. So this is a simplified version, if you will.
AUDIENCE: What was the starting size of the paper?
AUDIENCE: Yeah, how big is it?
JASON KU: It's actually an amazingly efficient use of paper. The length of the dragon is pretty much this length right here, which is actually quite impressive for the amount of detail there is. The shrinkage factor is something like to the length of the squared to the length of the dragon is not even a half.
The overall structure of this model is actually quite simple. The model itself is maybe about this big. So I'm guessing the size of the square was something like a meter, if not a little larger. It's a long time to work with a single sheet of paper.
All right. So we're going to very quickly, maybe for the next 10, 15 minutes, go through a design example of a crab. And so we're going to kind of go through it quickly. To help you do your homework, I just want to let you know about some details of TreeMaker that might be useful to you to be able to make a cleaner or nicer crease pattern.
So to go to a TreeMaker example, I'm going to open up TreeMaker. I need to bring TreeMaker over here. So we have TreeMaker. And let's say we want to make a crab. So how do you want to draw this tree? Maybe I'll just draw the tree that we had before.
First we have four legs all of equal length. We could have them all coming from the same spot. But traditionally, if we take a look at a crab-- That's a cartoony version of a crab, but we see that these maybe our axis of our model is here.
These legs actually don't need to split at the axis. We could actually model this as in the tree, maybe we have our body segment, and maybe we separate these four flaps off from the axis by a certain distance so that we actually can save paper. We don't have to make each one of these flaps this long. You see?
So I'm going to add a little line segment there. Repeat on the other side. You get the
idea. Then maybe you have some modeling of the thickness of the model. Then we have claws.
One nice thing about this is we could view just the tree. That might make things a little easier. There’s lots of these view characteristics that we’re going to take advantage of. And maybe we want to represent the eyes.
Now, the lengths of these edges in the program don’t really mean anything. So take that into note first. You actually I’ve to click on each edge and specify its length relative to all the others. So maybe we want to make the claws half as long as the branch connecting them.
Bear with me. There’s no good way of automating this process at this point.
And maybe we make the eyes-- they’re pretty short-- so we maybe make them a quarter of the length of those. The body segment, I don’t know. Also a quarter. This is really kind of arbitrary, but you can play around with these dimensions. And these guys, also a quarter. And the back legs can also be one. Something like that.
All right. When we’ve got that, we see that we actually have circles there. Now, these circles are kind of crossing. We don’t want that, because paper can’t go to two points at once. What we can do now is scale everything. So it tries to pack all the circles such that none of the conditions are being violated.
So this is a valid packing, except these points in the middle here, this whole polygon is constrained. The green line segments here are active paths. Basically, the distance between these points on the tree and these points on the paper are minimized, or they’re equal. So there must be a crease there. That is a key statement of uniaxial bases, is that there must be a crease along active paths.
Now, these two points can actually stand to get larger. That’s evident to the fact that we can move these around and it’s not violating any conditions. Well, if I move it over here, it’s violating a condition. Whenever a condition is violated then you have these red lines that yell at you.
But we can move this around in this area without violating any conditions. So it's not happy. It's not completely crystallized or well-constrained, so it's going to yell at us when we try to build the crease pattern. TreeMaker was not able to construct all polygons because a polygon was either non-convex or contained one or more nodes in its interiors. So these have nodes in its interior, so was not able to fill in this polygon.
What we can do about that is we don't mind if these points get a little bigger. Or we could add an extra point. So we never modeled a body segment here. So maybe we just add in a body segment. So scale everything here.
We still have this problem. This guy is unconstrained. So what I'm going to do is make this guy a little bigger by selecting the node and the edge. You have to do both. I can go here and scale just this selection. And it'll increase it by itself. Actually, nicely, this is somewhat of a symmetric crease pattern, which didn't occur before.
So you see these lighter edges of the tree are fully constrained edges. These darker ones are not fully constrained edges. So this guy can actually also increase a little bit. So I'm going to scale selection. Now everything should be good. I can build the crease pattern.
Guh! It built it, so whatever.
So this is a foldable crease pattern that will form what we want it to. We can also go to this creases view, and it will show the creases of the model. It was not able to find valid mountain-valleys. Anyway.
So to make this cleaner, you might want to deal with symmetry. So there's an ability to select diagonal symmetry and either add conditions to make a node fixed to the symmetry line, so add additional constraints to our system to make it cleaner. We can fix them to the symmetry line. We can fix it to the corner or the paper edge, fix to any arbitrary position. Or we can select two nodes and pair them about the symmetry line, which is a very useful thing to do.
I don't know if it will yell at me again. Yeah, it didn't do anything. What I'm going to
do is go in here. There’s lots of things you could do here. We could perturb all the nodes, so they move if by a slight distance. And maybe if we try scaling it again, it’ll find a valid solution.
This was unfortunate. Scale everything. Kill the strain on this. Yes?
**AUDIENCE:** I’m confused. Is it failing because the problem is over-constrained or under-constrained?
**JASON KU:** It’s not failing because of either. It’s failing because certain creases get very close together. Now it’s failing because it can’t find a correct valley-mountain assignment for the crease pattern. So it’s able to build the creases fine. So build crease pattern, fine. It just wasn’t able to construct a mountain-valley assignment, which in the creases view would usually give you mountain and valley assignments.
**AUDIENCE:** That means it’s not possible?
**JASON KU:** It couldn’t find it. It’s not that it’s not possible. It just couldn’t find it. I want to say one other thing. Kill the crease pattern. We have a polygon bounded by active paths that’s not triangular. But we can actually split it any of these up into triangles.
I’m just going to mention that you can do this. You click on one of these polygons, go here, stub, triangulate tree. It adds random points. And now all the polygons are triangles, and that’s much easier to fold. Or not. That’s how you would do it.
Anyway, I’m running out of time, so I’m going to go back to the presentation. But if you need any help with these, or the tutorial with this program, I’m around. You can contact me through the OrigaMIT website, or you can come to it an OrigaMIT workshop on Sunday and ask me questions then.
So I’m going to quickly just go right back to the presentation. Play slide show. Nope. Technical difficulties. Play slide show.
So that was the example of TreeMaker. Here’s an example of a non-TreeMaker example that I designed this weekend of a crab. I actually designed this model it
after I had drawn this picture. And I wanted to incorporate some of the elements of this picture into my design process.
So one of the first I actually started was designing the back so that it would have this kind of structure with this polygon there, kind of a Komatsu-like design process, and trying to make the final form polygons and incorporate those into my crease pattern. So that's what this area is right here.
It has a very similar structure to the tree we drew already. We have the four points for the legs, the body segment. These are going to be the eyes. And so there are some extra points just to make things easier to fold. The claws. Here's the body segment.
There's these extra two things on either side. And I made those so that there could be an underbelly to the crab, and that I could add some texture in and things like that.
But you can see some of the constraints that I've put on it are that I want this to be 22.5 degree folding, which is hard to implement in TreeMaker. I've also shown some of the thinning to make these points thinner on the right.
So if we actually pick out the tree for this hinge representation, we get something that kind of looks like this. So we have our legs. Here's our body segment. Here are the flaps that I make into the underbelly, eyes, and the claws.
And here's the folded proof of concept version that I folded last night. It's actually a really crappy picture. I apologize. But it's up here. I fold it like 10:00 last night, because I thought it would be useful for you guys to see what a folded one might look like.
But it actually turns out to be somewhat non-uniaxial. And you can see some of the texturing on the underbelly, if you take a look at it and come up here. So that's kind of describing some of the design process of a real work that uses the concepts of uniaxial bases, that I can make this hinge crease representation, but then use some shaping to modify it.
If you're interested in learning about anything related to origami, there's an excellent online forum that you can ask questions or show off work that you do or anything like that. And if you want to do something slightly more local-- this is shameless self-promotion-- but the origami club at MIT welcomes you with open arms. We meet every Sunday in the Student Center from 2:00 to 4:00 PM. You can find all sorts of details on our website. So that's about it.
AUDIENCE: Are those origami letters?
JASON KU: Those are, yes. Each one of these letters was a model. They're all the same model I designed, in which you have a 3 by 4 grid of flippable squares of color change that you can flip to either be in the all white state or all black state. And you could also do some of these half pixeling.
But you can basically make any of these letters-- I have a whole alphabet of things-- from a single model. I was lazy. I didn't want to design 26 models. I just want to design one model. So that that's what those are.
So that concludes the lecture. We're just about at time. |
Open Symphony: Creative Participation for Audiences of Live Music Performances
Yongmeng Wu, Leshao Zhang, Nick Bryan-Kinns, Mathieu Barthet Member, IEEE
E-mail: m.barthet@qmul.ac.uk
Abstract—Most contemporary Western performing arts practices restrict creative interactions from audiences. Open Symphony is designed to explore audience-performer interaction in live music performance assisted by digital technology. Audiences can conduct improvising by voting for various musical ‘modes’. Technological components include a web-based mobile application, a visual client displaying generated symbolic scores, and a server service for the exchange of creative data. The interaction model, app and visualisation were designed through an iterative participatory design process. The visualisation communicates audience directions to performers upon which to improvise music, and enables the audience to get feedback on their voting. The system was experienced by about 120 audience and performer participants (35 completed surveys) in controlled (lab) and “real world” settings. Feedback on usability and user experience was overall positive and live interactions demonstrate significant levels of audience creative engagement. We identified further design challenges around audience sense of control, learnability and compositional structure.
Index Terms—participatory live music performance, music interaction, audience engagement, audience experience, music visualization, stage augmentation, creativity, music improvisation, multimedia, mobile, web, software engineering
1 INTRODUCTION
Contemporary Western music performances are predominantly presentational, in that performers prepare and provide music for another group, the audience [1]. Audiences have an important role in creating the setting and experience of musical performances [2]. Without, performers may play less expressively as for some musicians ‘playing expressively’ means ‘communicating emotions’ to an audience [3]. Audience participation in musical performance can be manifested in a broad range of ways, from a receiver sense (e.g. sitting in silent contemplation of sounds) to a more active form of participation involving actions shaping the performance (e.g. singing along with musicians, common in contemporary pop music concerts), which we coin as creative participation [4]. Western art music has evolved by creating a divide between audiences and performers, from early music forms for the recreation of amateurs to post-Renaissance music for entertainment by highly-skilled professional performers. Certain music traditions developed unwritten rules about audience etiquette constraining the range of behaviors and interactions judged to be acceptable; in some concert halls, ‘correct’ audiences are expected to sit quietly and applaud only in certain places. The musical communication model that prevails in many cultures and traditions operates in a linear and unidirectional way from composer to performer to the audience-receiver. What if this were revisited - not to replace - but to create alternative musical experiences changing the relationships between the composition, the composer, performers and audiences? Reconfiguring the links between the triad of the artwork, artists and audiences is one of the remits of participatory art (see Section 2) and is explored within the interactive and performance arts [4]. A remarkable initiative to enrich concert experiences using digital multimedia and internet technology is described in [5]. However such initiative in the field of music interaction does not address the creative participation of audiences during live performance, which is the object of the present and previous works (see e.g. [6] [7] [8] [9]).
In this paper, we present Open Symphony (OS), a new participatory music performance system which explores the creativity and spontaneity of reactive interactions through an ensemble of performers and an audience using mobile technology and data visualisation. The system aims to extend the nature of live music performance by enabling audience members to collaborate in the development of a musical piece – audience members actively influence the music being played in a live environment, creating a mutual experience between multiple audience members and performers. Our novel contributions include a classification taxonomy for participatory live music performance (PLMP) systems (Section 3), a system for audience-performer live musical co-composition based on vote and stage augmentation techniques (Sections 3 and 4), and an evaluation methodology which may serve as a basis for the assessment of other PLMP systems (Section 5). We conducted two evaluation sessions involving a total of about 120 interacting participants across 14 different performances in two different settings, one controlled, in the lab, and another.
in the wild (14 participants per performance on average, 35 completed surveys). Audience usability results show that the system is overall intuitive but complete learning requires an introduction and a few trials, especially for non-musicians. Thematic analyses of self reports and statistical analyses of live interactions demonstrate that for some participants the system successfully supports creative interactions with performers and fosters engagement in the performance through the sense of agency and being cognitively active, the aesthetics of the stage augmentation, and the uniqueness of the performances contributing to positive affective responses. For others, the system can lead to frustration due to the lack of control while not engaging with the produced experimental music. Such successes and limitations of our system are further discussed in Section 6. Video and photo examples showing live interactions with Open Symphony can be found at the following links: http://bit.ly/os_visvideo and http://bit.ly/os_photos
2 Audience Participation in the Digital Age
2.1 Participatory Music Within Participatory Art
In contrast to presentational music performance, participatory music performance can be defined as a special type of music practice in which the performer-audience distinctions are blurred and where all participants actively contribute to the musical outcome (based on [1]). Participatory music has a long history in many cultures and took various forms (e.g. early Western madrigals for communal singing, Zimbabwean Mbira music played at ceremonies involving singing, clapping and dancing) which share seed values such as “heightened social interactions” and the inclusion of as many participants as possible whatever their level (ibid.). Motivations for audience participation in modern and contemporary live performing arts (music, theatre, dance, comedy, etc.) include the goal of active spectatorship (“as physical engagement may strengthen mental engagement”), creating communities in which participants are equal by improving the sense of closeness between the audience and performers and between audience members themselves, undermining the boundaries of traditional art forms expectations and behaviors, and reaffirming the liveness in performance given the ever-increasing number of live acts based on pre-recorded media [10]. Interesting parallels can be drawn between some of these motivations and the contemporary perception of audience’s role which has recently been suggested to have changed from primarily passive to one “co-creating values” by several authors, while audiences are shown to increasingly want to “shape” their own experience [2].
2.2 Classification Framework for Participatory Live Music Performance Systems
We differentiate participatory art forms according to the level of audience creative participation, from partial, where audiences influence content produced by artists to full, where there are no artist-audience distinctions. Until recently, participatory art forms with partial participation made use of low technology for audience interventions, e.g. a dice in Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone’s fantasy roleplay gamebooks “in which you are the hero!” readers use to determine the progression of the narrative, verbalisations in improvisational theatre and stand-up comedy letting the audience give cues to performers, etc. We, as others [4], believe that human-computer interaction (HCI) and communication technologies have much to offer to participatory art forms in that they provide a platform to mediate and transform creative information between agents (whether human or virtual, co-located or remote), and can help overcoming the boundaries that low technologies impose on creative interactions with the potential to scale them up to large audiences. At the intersections between music and HCI (see e.g. [11]), several techniques and interaction models have been proposed to control access points for technology-mediated audience creative participation in the musical context [12, 13]. In Open Symphony the audience acts as a “meta-composer/conductor” by voting for playing modes [14] communicated to performers through live graphic scores. We present below our framework for classifying participatory live music performance systems, using the framework to position Open Symphony as well as the works of others.
- Audience creative participation level: from partial (Open Symphony) to full (no artist-audience distinctions);
- Audience creative participation motivation: e.g. imitative (following), competitive, contributing, directing/conducting (Open Symphony);
- Agency distribution: how creative agency is distributed, from individual level to collective level, such as audience subgroups (6 and Open Symphony), or the entire audience;
- Agency mediation: directness of the agency, from indirect (as in Open Symphony, where performers follow audience instructions and create the sounds) to direct without mediation (where the audience creates sounds themselves [8, 9]);
- Agency degree: whether participants act upon the performance (audience adds content to an existing narrative [15]) or co-create the narrative (as in Open Symphony);
- Agency constraints: from restrictions (as in Open Symphony, where the audience chooses between certain options) to complete freedom (where the audience has full control);
- Creative participation modalities: examples include audition (audience generates sounds [8, 9]), vision [16], multimodal audition and vision (in Open Symphony, where the audience actions influence projected visuals and sounds mediated by performers, similar to other work [7]), or when audience members produce sounds and visuals with their mobile phones [9]);
- Creative participation media: for example, sound/music [7, 8, 9], lights (where the audience can control light effects [17]), 3D virtual content [18], or text messages [15].
- Creative participation affordances: based e.g. on body and movement (such as dancing [19], hand/arm gestures [9], votes (as in Open Symphony and other works [7, 17]), or linguistic expressions [15].
- User interfaces: e.g. web-based interfaces (such as Open Symphony [20] and other works [21, 7]), tangible interfaces [22], wearable interfaces [19], or mixed reality
their evaluation lie beyond the scope of this paper). The and GUI designs (the description of these early models and be scalable to large audiences (DR7).
• Support musical co-composition (DR6),
• Foster audience engagement in the performance (DR5),
• Be intuitive and inclusive by suiting musically untrained audience users (DR4),
• Facilitate audience creative participation (DR1),
• Support performers’ musical expression—performers should not feel controlled by the audience and should be able to express their musical expertise and keep some music credit (DR2),
• Allow responsive audience-performer interactions (DR3),
• Be intuitive and inclusive by suiting musically untrained audience users (DR4),
• Foster audience engagement in the performance (DR5),
• Support musical co-composition (DR6),
• And be scalable to large audiences (DR7).
We used mockups and prototyping to discuss models varying creative participation affordances, musical system and GUI designs (the description of these early models and their evaluation lie beyond the scope of this paper). The core design team and performers assessed these prototypes against the DRs. The outcome was a first functional system which was trialled with four professional performers during pilot experiments. We used feedback obtained during focus groups with performers after the trial to refine the design (see Section 4.1; a photo of one of the focus group sessions is available here).
We then conducted two cycles of evaluations and improvements of the system based on the feedback of audiences and performers obtained after rehearsals and interactive performances. Our evaluation methods, results and modifications are described in Section 5.
4 OPEN SYMPHONY SYSTEM
4.1 Artistic and Interaction Models
In order to establish a creative balance between audience and performers the traditional musical score and central conductor are replaced by deconstructed music playing modes [14] and multiple audience conductors. Our and Hayes’ creative interaction model let audience members specify collectively the playing modes which can be seen as typological music attributes, and let performers control morphological music attributes within constraints established by the modes. Performers’ interpretations of the modes can be based on pre-composed material either provided by the composer or generated during rehearsal, and are shaped according to expressive intent, e.g. through choices of timing and timbre (see e.g. [24]). The choice of modes is orchestrated by a voting system where electors are audience members and ‘candidates’ consist in the five following playing modes selected by Hayes: ‘Drone’ (single sustained note), ‘Two-note’ (two notes played alternatively), ‘Motif’ (small set of notes forming a melody), ‘Improvisation’ (free improvisation), and ‘Silence’ (no playing). The primordial ‘Silence’ mode was added based on the results of a focus group with performers. We assumed that the modes would be straightforward concepts for audience to learn and understand, and sufficiently loose constraints leaving performers enough freedom for expression exploiting their expertise and creativity. For such interaction to take place dynamically during a performance, relevant information needs to be presented in a timely and efficient manner. We developed information visualisation techniques to simplify the exchange of creative data, to serve as a cognitive tool to support decision making [25], and for aesthetic purposes. The audience is divided into different groups which are each assigned to a performer automatically upon connection to the user client (see Section 4.3. Group votes are used to generate individual symbolic scores for each performer. The voting system relies on the plurality principle meaning that the winning mode is that with most votes. Mode indications are directive for performers, however the artistic brief leaves them a flexibility in the transitions from one to another (namely to avoid abrupt interruption of musical expression).
4.2 Creative Communication System Architecture
The Open Symphony creative communication system consists of three components: i) an audience user client for audience voting; ii) a visual client for presenting visual
feedback to both audience and performers; iii) a server component supporting the interaction between the visual client and mobile applications.
4.3 Audience User Client
The Open Symphony audience user client is a cross-platform and smartphone-friendly web-based application (app) developed in HTML5. This is advantageous as users don’t have to download an app prior to interacting. Following visual perception principles [25], we used different visual channels to display different types of data, namely shapes (e.g., circles, triangle, etc.) were associated to performers, pattern, color, and motion were associated to playing modes. The graphical user interface (GUI) of the app (Figure 1a) displays a shape identifying the assigned performer, a bar chart representing the number of votes for each playing mode in a given group, and buttons to select the playing modes. The vote buttons are located at the bottom of the mobile device which was found to be the best touch area for single hand operation on mobile phones [25]. We chose a dark background color for the GUI to reduce visual disturbance whilst the app is used at a concert setting as would happen with a brightly lit screen. Help instructions can also be accessed by users at any time simply by pressing on a help button.
4.4 Visual Client
The visual client generates a graphical score for performers and audience feedback (Figures 1b and 1c). The designed score notations build on features of traditional music where time-based events are laid out from left to right as well as on contemporary graphic notations [27]. Each performer has a score timeline starting with the shape they have been assigned to and displaying graphical symbols representing the playing modes. The status of the audience votes is also represented on the score. With this one-to-one mapping, the visual client provides direct feedback on the audience’s interaction with the aim of encouraging users to actively participate. Audience votes are sampled at a frequency set up to limit network cl uttering (every two seconds in the experiment presented in Section 5). When a new mode is voted for, its symbol appears gradually before reaching its final shape in order to help users follow time and add dynamism to the interface for increased engagement.
4.5 Server
The server component which is powered by Node.js, a cross-platform server-side JavaScript framework, is described in details in [20]. Node.js suits the high concurrency, low CPU consumption requirements of Open Symphony. The server caches the instructions from the mobile applications and the visualisation client in memory, allowing to fetch them with representational state transfer (RESTful) application programming interfaces (APIs), thus creating a communication channel for mobile applications and visualisation client. The frequency of requests from visual client to server was set up so that graphical score update occur every 2s to avoid too sudden of changes.
5 Evaluation
We set out to evaluate audience and performer responses to the novel interaction provided by Open Symphony in two different performance contexts (lab and “in the wild”). Our aim was to gather subjective feedback on the experience through a survey, to explore how the system was actually used, how it changed performance practice, and how it could be improved.
5.1 Sessions and Participants
The first session (denoted SA) was hosted in a ‘black-box’ performance space at the authors’ institution. The performers were four professional musicians (three flutists and bass and alto clarinetist) who were Guildhall School of Music and Drama (GSMD) graduates. Audience participants were recruited through (online) call of participations at QMUL and GSMD. In total 13 participants interacted (including two experimenters, occasionally). The survey was completed by the four performers and 11 recruited audience participants (five males and six females) who belonged to the following age groups: 20-29 (5), 30-39 (4), 40-49 (1), 50+ (1). Audience participants included researchers, students, researchers, students (PhDs), designers, software developers and lawyers. Two out of the four performers provided feedback in SB.
The second session (denoted SB) was held as part of the Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems (CHI 2016) Interactivity track [14] in a large open booth located in the conference’s exhibition hall (see Figure 2). The performers were four professional musicians (one violist, two violinists, and bass and alto clarinetist) who were University of California Berkeley (UCB) music graduates. In total 102 different audience participants took part in interactive performances over two consecutive days (including two experimenters, occasionally). The survey was completed by 20 of them (16 males, two females, two N/A) who belonged to the following age groups: 18-24 (1), 25-34 (10), 35-44 (5), 40-49 (1), 50+ (1). Audience participants included researchers, students (PhDs), designers, software developers and lawyers. Two out of the four performers provided feedback in SB.
As the votes from the two experimenters who actively took part in the interactive performances might have influenced other participants’ votes, they were included in the log-based behavioral analyses presented in Section 5.4.2 (process similar than in [15]). However, we do not believe that these votes had a major impact on the overall audience participation.
5.2 Procedure
In each session the procedure included four main stages: (i) performer rehearsal, (ii) system presentation, (iii) series of interactive performances, and (iv) post-performance survey. During the rehearsal performers were introduced to the system and practiced with the music director first without the technology (system of paper cards and hand signs for mode indications) and then with the technology (∼ 2-3H). In SA, all participants took part in four pieces where the number
Fig. 1. Open Symphony user interfaces: app (a) and graphical score (b and c). Graphical scores: from left to right, status bar indicating which modes are enabled and the current time, shapes associated to each performer (audience vote overview appears inside the shapes with colored dots corresponding to votes for specific modes), mode symbols appearing on performer timeline to indicate which mode to play. Mode symbols disappear as time goes by to put forward most recent modes.
Fig. 2. Ensemble and first row of audience participants (a) and performer screen (b) for session B. Rich diversity of audience behaviors can be seen in Figure 2a: from left to right, participant reading one of the instruction flyers they had access to, participant taking a photo of the performance, participant looking in the direction of the performers and the main visual display, participant using her mobile phone to interact. The computer generating live graphical scores is located on the left side of the stage.
of active modes was gradually increased (two, three, four and five modes for pieces one to four, respectively) so that audience members could learn the concepts of modes and their influence progressively. The audience was seated. The
performance and survey lasted about two hours in total. SB comprised ten pieces held on consecutive days mostly with different participants (average of 1.4 performances per participant). Audience members were seated (first rows) and standing at the back. In both sessions, the duration of each piece was fixed to four minutes. During the presentation we introduced the interaction principle and how to connect to (URL or QR code) and use the app. However in SB, all participants followed the presentation as attendees could join or leave the booth whenever they wanted. Instructions cards (A5 flyers) were at disposal on the booth chairs and tables and distributed to some of the new comers. After two iterations with only two and three modes enabled we decided to keep five modes available for all the other performances as the music was more varied. In both sessions audio/video recordings were made and interaction data was stored on our server.
5.3 Apparatus and Setting
In both sessions audience and performers faced each other as in a traditional performance setting (see Figure 2a for illustration). Two screens connected to the same Apple MacBook displayed the visualisation; for the audience: a large 5 x 3m rear projection screen (SA) and a 80” high definition digital television (SB) placed behind the performers, and for the performers: an HDTV located slightly on the side of the stage area (SA) and on the floor in front of the performers at an angle of 45° (SB), see Figure 2b. In both sessions audience participants were invited to use their mobile devices with either the venue WiFi or mobile broadband. In SA three video cameras were used (performers, audience, and back of the audience). In SB one video camera was used at the back of the audience. In SA, a dimmed lighting was used for projection allowing performers to see each other whilst keeping the intimacy sought for in concert situation. In SB, normal lighting was used suiting the open booth configuration in an exhibition hall.
5.4 Survey
In both sessions we conducted a survey using online (SA) and paper (SB) self-completion questionnaires for audience (SA, SB) and performer (SA) participants. We collected reflective feedback for SB performers by email for practical reasons. Questionnaires were chosen over interviews to be able to collect feedback for a whole group while participants were still fresh about the performance, and also to prevent the experiment from being too long for attention and availability reasons. In the statistical analyses that follow a Type I error rate of $\alpha=.05$ was chosen.
5.4.1 Subjective Evaluations
Participants rated their experience and the system on topics expressing enabling/disabling factors (see Figure 5 using five-point Likert items from ‘Strongly disagree’ (1) to ‘Strongly agree’ (5). Our questionnaires included traditional usability metrics to test ease of use, understanding and effectiveness (see Figure 5a topics 1 to 6, and Figure 5b topics 1 and 2). They also included user experience (UX) metrics to enquire about perceived satisfaction; the need for audience creative participation and whether creative collaboration within audience members occurred (DR1); user interface implementation choice (mobile phone); the sense of engagement (DR6); the pedagogical and retention potential of the system (see Figure 5a topics 7 to 11 and Figure 5b topics 3 to 7). Fewer topics were used in SB due to the shorter amount of time for participants. In order to test the agreement between participants (raters) we computed inter-rater reliability (IRR) measures adapted to ordinal data [28]. The intra-class correlation (ICC) was used for SA which did not present missing data. A strong significant agreement was found, ICC(A,11) = 0.764 [F-Test, H0: r0 = 0; H1: r0 > 0; F(10,60,9) = 5.58, $p<.0001$]. As results for SB included missing data we assessed IRR using the bootstrapped Krippendorff’s Alpha which also showed significant agreement (Alpha>0), Alpha = 0.21, 95% CI [.06, .37], although to a lesser extent than in SA. Several limitations are highlighted by the ratings: the score visualisations were not found clear at the significant level (SB), and did not systematically help to follow the music (SA); the app was not found easy to use at the significant level (SB only). The results also highlight several successful aspects of the system: none of the participants significantly disagreed to any of the enabling topics in either session (upper limit of median notch below 3), i.e. in the worst cases participants expressed neutral judgements to enabling topics. The participants were satisfied with their overall experience and enjoyed interacting with the performers at the significant level (SA and SB); participants found the app easy to use and its interface clear (SA) and felt engaged in the performance (SA) at the significant level. The use of mobile device was not found to prevent paying attention to the performance significantly (SA); participants reported to have enjoyed collaborating with audience members and also expressed to be keen to participate again, at the significant level (SA: polar question results, not reported here, and SB).
5.4.2 Behavioral Analyses
5.4.2.1 Creative interaction data: We aimed to analyse how frequently participants voted and whether differences occurred between playing modes. We compared vote interactions for pieces with five available modes (i.e. one piece for session A and eight pieces for session B). From the server logs, we computed $\bar{v}_{ijk}$, the mean vote frequency per participant for mode $i \in [1; 5]$, session $j \in [1; 2]$ and session piece $k_{j=1} = 4$ (one piece) and $k_{j=2} \in [3; 10]$ (eight pieces). For a given mode and piece, $\bar{v}$ is obtained by dividing the total number of votes for the mode by the number of participants to the piece and is expressed in number of votes per minute. We conducted a two-way analysis of variance (Type II sum of squares ANOVA) that examined the effects of Session (two levels) and Mode (five levels) on the mean vote frequency $\bar{v}$. Our dependent variable, the mean vote frequency $\bar{v}$, did not depart from a normal distribution for the groups formed by the combination of the levels of Session and Mode as assessed by the Anderson-Darling test (A2 always below critical level). There was homogeneity of variance between groups as assessed by Levene’s test for equality of error variances, $F(9,35)=1.30, p=.27$. No interaction effect between Session and Mode was found, $F(4,35)=2.24, p=.08$. No significant main effect of the Session was found, $F(1,35)=0.59, p>.45$, indicating that the mean
Fig. 3. Box and whisker plots of audience ratings to opinion-scale questions (five-point Likert-items) for Sessions A (3a) and B (3b).
Notes: Question topics are reported in the labels of the x-axis (certain topics are common to SA and SB, whilst other differ). Notches represent the 95% confidence interval about the median value. The format of the five-point Likert-items is as follows: 1 (Strongly disagree), 2 (Disagree), 3 (Neutral), 4 (Agree), 5 (Strongly agree). The dashed line indicates the neutral level (3). For all the topics expressing enabling factors (i.e. all the topics but one), a significant agreement to the topic highlights a positive aspect of the system. Agreement is considered significant when the lower limit of the median notch is above 3 (neutral level).
Fig. 4. Tukey multiple comparison post hoc test between participants’ average playing mode vote frequency in 9 musical pieces. Note: Vote frequency (in amount per minute) and modes are reported on the x- and y- axes, respectively.
vote frequency between sessions for each mode was similar. Results show that participants actively interacted with the system and voted on average 2.21 times per minute (sum of individual mode mean vote frequencies). The main effect of Mode was significant, F(4,35)=7.31, p<.0005, showing that the mean vote frequency between modes for each session differed. A Tukey multiple comparison test (see Figure 4) indicated three significantly different between-mode vote frequencies: TwoNotes vs Drone and Improvisation, and Drone vs Motif. The fact that participants significantly preferred some modes over the others suggests that the interaction was not random but guided by creative decisions. TwoNotes and Motif seem to be voted for more frequently, maybe because they are more discernible and lead to more variations than e.g. Drone.
5.4.2.2 Help interaction data: No significant differences were found in the participant average frequency of use of the app Help button between sessions, denoted $H_j(k)$, $F(1,13)=0.97$, $p=0.34$. During the 14 pieces from SA and SB, the Help button was used on average $H=0.21$ times per minute per participant (once every 5 mins) which is less frequent than for any of the modes (see Figure 4). In SA where all participants took part in the four pieces, a linear regression model (ordinary least squares) fits the help frequency data across pieces $k$ almost perfectly, $H^1(k)=0.52-0.13k$ (coefficient of determination $R^2=.995$). The frequency of use of the help button decreases linearly between the first and the last pieces, no help button being invoked at all for the last piece ($H^1(4)=0$). This suggests that after a learning curve (corresponding to three pieces of four minutes), the participants understand how to interact with the system well.
5.4.2.3 Locus of attention: We observed from video recordings that audience members would switch their attention between the stage and their mobile devices when they interacted. Video analyses show that on average audience members spent 34% of the total duration of the concert looking at their mobile device (estimation based on five participants who could be tracked in the video). This may suggest that audience members spend half time (about 1/3 of total duration) focusing on the mobile app than directly focusing on the performers (about 2/3 of total duration). However, the limited number of participants who could be tracked prevent generalisation and we rely on other behavioral data such as the interaction logs presented above...
to discuss creative engagement during the performance.
5.4.3 Thematic Analyses
Opinion-scale questions from the survey were coupled to open-ended questions inviting participants to explain the reasons of their choice. Other open-ended questions addressed what they liked and disliked, how they positioned such interactive performances compared to traditional ones, how did they feel about “conducting” performers, which musical attributes they wished to interact with, and how they would improve the system. Inductive (‘bottom-up’) thematic analyses [29] of audience and performer feedback in SA and SB were conducted by the first and last authors. We present and discuss in Tables [1] [2] [3] and [4] the main themes which emerged from the joint analysis.
5.4.4 Modifications
Several modifications were conducted after SA (and before SB) to improve the system. The results from the SA survey highlighted that equal vote situations hindered the clarity of visual feedback and the sense of agency as multiple modes were displayed on the graphical scores for performers to choose from (see Figure 1b). In order to minimise situations were displayed on the graphical scores for performers to visual feedback and the sense of agency as multiple modes highlighted that equal vote situations hindered the clarity of SB) to improve the system. The results from the SA survey indicated that the “composer” and felt they had enough space for interpretation. Over 50% of instructions and short participation time were barriers to understanding graphical information. Although it was not one of our goals to make a fully self-explanatory system, the design could be improved to enable participants without musical expertise to rapidly infer the correct conceptual model about the system. Using semantic information in addition to visual clues, as suggested by one participant, could be a way to bridge the gap between symbols and function. Although graphical scores helped performers follow directions, they also disconnected them from the audience, forcing their locus of attention toward the screen. Disconnection from the audience was reported in SA, where the
5.4.5 Suggestions
Several of the SB participants provided interesting suggestions which could form the basis of future developments; for instance, to replace the voting system by “giving alternate control to audience members although this wouldn’t scale very well”, to add playing modes (e.g. based on “mood”), which the last author addresses in [7], to remove the vote numbers from app UI (see Figure 14), as they could be a source of distraction, to use semantic descriptions in the visuals to better explain the system, to facilitate the identification of performers using garments (“t-shirts with their shapes”), and to use scrolling in the graphical score.
6 Discussion
The subjective evaluations and behavioral and qualitative analyses provided rich data for assessing our system against the initial design requirements (see DRs in Section 5), giving us insights into how to improve it.
6.1 Facilitating Audience Creative Participation
The results demonstrate a significant ability of Open Symphony to support audience creative participation (DR1). In both sessions audiences enjoyed interacting with performers. A positive sense of agency and creative participation emerged from self-reports, where participants said they valued their influence on the music, the ability to interact spontaneously in a live context, and the collaboration with performers. Compared to traditional performances, the Open Symphony performances were qualified more “open”, “engaging”, “empowering”, “unusual”.
6.2 Supporting Performers’ Musical Expression
Regarding support for performers’ musical expression (DR2), the system challenged the creativity of performers, providing a novel framework for musical improvisation, structured by “necessary restrictions”. Performers appreciated sharing creative roles with the audience, which they considered as the “composer” and felt they had enough space for interpretation. This indicates that the system successfully balanced the creative input between audience and performers.
6.3 Ensuring Usability and Inclusion
In reviewing the ability to allow responsive interactions (DR3) and to offer an intuitive system for musically untrained users (DR4), audience participants (namely in SA) did refer to the design’s “simplicity” and “intuitiveness.” However, prior instructions and a learning curve are required to fully understand how to negotiate the interactions and make creative decisions. Data from SA suggests that participants no longer require help after they have been adequately briefed and have used the system for three performances. Understandability issues emerged in SB when these criteria were not met, principally for non-musicians who skipped instructions and only stayed for one or two performances, without gradual introduction of modes as in SA. Relatedly, graphical score visualisations were not consistently found clear. In SA, visualisations suffered from cluttered multiple modes due to equal votes, a problem subsequently solved (see Figures 15 and 14). In SB, the lack of instructions and short participation time were barriers to understanding graphical information. Although it was not one of our goals to make a fully self-explanatory system, the design could be improved to enable participants without musical expertise to rapidly infer the correct conceptual model about the system. Using semantic information in addition to visual clues, as suggested by one participant, could be a way to bridge the gap between symbols and function. Although graphical scores helped performers follow directions, they also disconnected them from the audience, forcing their locus of attention toward the screen. Disconnection from the audience was reported in SA, where the
Thematic Analysis of Audience Feedback in Session A. Note: Codes identify a feature of the data (semantic content or latent) which was judged of interest by the analyst. Themes were obtained by re-focusing the analysis at a broader level, by sorting the different codes and collating all the relevant coded data within the identified themes [29].
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Theme (no of codes)</th>
<th>Discussion</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1. Agency & Creative participation (13)</td>
<td>Several audience participants felt a positive sense of agency (e.g. “It was the direct input I had towards the performance which made me feel like I had considerable influence.”) and enjoyed participating to the musical creation with performers (e.g. “I was very happy to ‘play’ with them.”) which is in line with the ratings (see Section 5.4.1). Audience members stated that they were influenced by other members’ choices, namely the majority (“I initially tried to change existing votes, or go with the group to get a clear outcome.”), result in line with findings from [19]. Group interaction could also cause concerns (“Sometimes I felt a bit peer-pressurized.”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2. Lack of Agency (10)</td>
<td>The feeling of agency could be limited due to the choice of others (“my choice does not always come first”, “I didn’t have direct control”), that of performers (“the performer chose what was ultimately played”), or lacking the freedom to choose which performer to interact with.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3. Musical Attributes for Creative Participation (10)</td>
<td>A large number of additional musical attributes for creative participation were suggested by the audience such as “key”, “tempo”, “rhythm”, “duration”, “dynamics”, “octave” and audio effects like “reverb” and “delay”. This indicates that audience participants would be eager to control additional sound/music dimensions. However we kept a simple five-mode interaction model to avoid cognitive overcharging and to keep the system opened to audience participants without musical knowledge.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4. Learnability (6)</td>
<td>Some of the audience participants felt that the user interface of both the mobile app and visual client were “intuitive and straightforward”. However this is to be nuanced with the ratings which showed that the score visualisations were not found significantly clear. Negative feedback included a misunderstanding of the interaction mechanism with the mobile app (“I initially thought the more you tap on a symbol the more votes you submit”), which was later solved (see Section 5.4.4).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5. Responsiveness (6)</td>
<td>Latency issues emerged either due to technical reasons (e.g. “no immediate feedback of the number of votes”) or due to the interaction pathways and the intrinsic “time delay” between votes and musicians’ responses.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6. Engagement (5)</td>
<td>In line with the ratings, several audience participants reported that the interaction made them feel “engaged” in the performance, for instance because they “paid close attention to the musician and how they were reacting to different input” or that their “presence was not passive, but instead, very active”. However some participants didn’t engage with the music being produced and “missed the interaction between musicians”.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7. Distraction (3)</td>
<td>Sources of distractions due to notifications from other mobile phone applications were reported. Possible solutions could be to use a native app (rather than a web app) or a dedicated H/W interface such as a wearable device.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8. Identification (3)</td>
<td>Difficulty in identifying their allocated performer was reported by some audience participants (“It can also be useful to know which performer you are controlling.”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9. Game (2)</td>
<td>Two participants found the interaction to be game-like probably due to the social voting and visual elements. This could also be a source of distraction from the music, inviting us to attempt to minimise this effect in future iterations of the system.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Visual display for performers was located on one side of the stage. This was improved in SB, where the visual display was placed at the front of the stage on the floor (see Figure 26). Placing the visual display for performers behind the audience or using augmented reality glasses could further alleviate the sense of disconnection. Another possibility is to convey audience directions using color codes and stage lights on each of the performer. Other drawbacks of the system for audience participants were a felt lack of agency and responsiveness in some cases, indicating that DR3 was only partially met. Reasons included the voting system, which dilutes personal choices; not being able to identify the associated performer; and the limited number of musical attributes to control. The minimal allowed time interval T between two votes could be reduced in an attempt to increase responsiveness; however, if the interval is too small, it could give the interactions a game-like facet, which would go against the artistic intent. We could investigate voting systems other than plurality, but there are currently no optimal solutions for groups. We could also consider providing audience participants with full control, but over different musical attributes (shared roles in composition), assuming complexity and scalability can be factored in.
The graphical scores proved useful in supporting music-making decisions ("it was pretty clear where we were in the music", "It gave something to follow and to understand the duration of the piece."). However, other performers’ scores and the overview of audience choices were not necessary for some ("I was listening to what others were doing, and at times looking, but I was mostly focused on my own.") and could be sources of distraction for others ("it distracts one from listening to the other players"). For one performer, another drawback of using a screen was that it disconnected them from the audience ("As a performer I felt little relation to the audience since I was focused on a screen.").
The system pushed performers to explore their creativity in novel ways ("Gave me options to create in a different way to how I normally do", "freedom to experiment with notes and styles"). Compared to free improvisations, the system provided them with a "structure" and "restrictions" deemed to be "necessary" by some.
Similarly to audience members, all the performers suggested additional music parameters or styles to play (i.e. "Baroque and improv etc", "dynamics or tempo", "keys, moods").
Performers valued sharing the control over music production with the audience ("puts the musician and the composers (audience) on equal ground"). This proved successful because the artistic structure left them some space for interpretation ("It was nice to be able to make the decision based on your ears rather than what was dictated.").
Two performers found that the music lacked compositional structure ("There is not an overall 'compositional' structure - musicians respond to what is directed at the time rather than what has been before.", "I liked the 2 modes stuff, but with 5 modes in play things quickly became chaotic."). We partly attributed such impression of "chaos" for five modes in SA to equal vote situations leading to multiple modes at the same time (see Figure 1b), and made modifications to prevent this (see Section 5.4.4).
We could introduce a system of meta-rules to provide a curated, overall direction for Open Symphony interactive pieces, while keeping internal parts responsive and mutable.
Similarly to audience members, all the performers suggested additional music parameters or styles to play (i.e. "Baroque and improv etc", "dynamics or tempo", "keys, moods").
The system pushed performers to explore their creativity in novel ways ("Gave me options to create in a different way to how I normally do", "freedom to experiment with notes and styles"). Compared to free improvisations, the system provided them with a "structure" and "restrictions" deemed to be "necessary" by some.
6.4 Facilitating Audience Engagement
Enabling agency and participation fostered audience engagement in the performance (DR5), as participants paid close attention to performers and felt active. Creative voting strategies were diverse, demonstrating system appropriation based on personal preference; some favored certain playing modes, some based their decisions only on the music, and others were influenced by multiple modalities (the visualisations, others' votes, and the music). In SB, a strong theme of pleasure and enjoyment emerged. Participants had positive affective responses for artistic reasons (such as the quality of the music, the skills, and the performers' dedication), intellectual reasons (such as the cognitive tasks of voting and evaluating feedback), and also non-musical reasons (the stage setting and visual display with live graphical scores enriching the performance experience), an aspect also observed in [30].
6.5 Supporting Musical Co-Composition
In terms of support for musical co-composition (DR6), some participants thought the music was “excellent” and “unusual”. However, other participants did not engage with it, which might be due to a lack of “overall compositional structure” (as reported in SA), a lack of “modulation” (as reported in SB), or a genuine dislike of experimental music. The musical component should be developed further to ensure that audience compositional directions can form a coherent whole, yet integrating layers of complexity (SB).
6.6 Ensuring Scalability
Similar levels of interaction (vote frequency) were found between sessions composed of performances with varying number of participants (see Section 5.4.2). However, these comparisons were conducted between small- to medium-scale audiences (with 10-30 interacting participants). Scalability (DR7) tests including larger audiences should be conducted to test the impact of audience size, using both attitudinal and behavioral measures.
7 Conclusion and Future Work
We presented Open Symphony, a novel system for participatory live music performance involving audience-performer interaction using web technology and data visualisation. The system was the result of an iterative participatory design approach involving a team of researchers, designers, artistic director and performers, thus covering multidisciplinary skills. The system transforms the traditional unidirectional musical chain by adding creative communication in the reverse direction, from the audience to performers. Our design favored simple affordances (voting for playing modes) and multimodal interaction mixing musical and visual elements. Results from two evaluations which involved
### TABLE 3
Thematic Analysis of Audience Feedback in Session B
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Theme (no of codes)</th>
<th>Discussion</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td><strong>1. Learnability (26)</strong></td>
<td>12 out of 20 participants (11 musicians, one non musician) did not report understandability issues. However eight participants (six non-musicians, two musicians) expressed difficulties to understand e.g. the meaning of the symbols, the effect of the votes, the graphical scores, and expressed the need for explanations (it was “confusing at first” but “once briefed it was fine”). Contrary to SA, not all participants from SB attended the introduction as they could join at any point. Participants from SB also took part in 1.4 performances on average compared to four for SA. This shows that an introduction is required for audience participants especially for non-musicians, and a minimum number of performances is needed to support the learning curve.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>2. Pleasure/Enjoyment (19)</strong></td>
<td>Many participants communicated their enjoyment of the experience. Reasons were varied, from intellectual pleasure (“This simply rocked and was very fun but also very cerebral satisfying.”) to emotional contagion seeing skilled performers enjoying interacting together, and the quality of the music (“music was excellent”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>3. Design (18)</strong></td>
<td>Many positive comments were made regarding the design of the interfaces (“I liked the simplicity of the concept, the polish of the app and main screen.”, “not cluttered”) and the feedback provided (“I could easily select what I wanted and see total votes for a certain playing mode”). Other comments contrasted the aesthetics versus the clarity (“didn’t know what symbols meant [...] but very pretty”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>4. Lack of Agency/Control (12)</strong></td>
<td>As in SA, several factors hindering the sense of agency were identified; e.g. the voting system causing individual decisions to get “diluted” (“I could not see my personal influence”) and the lack of feedback or misunderstanding of the system (“Wasn’t sure if my input reached the performer.”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>5. Interactivity (8)</strong></td>
<td>The interactivity of the system was a source of positive emotional experience (“Thought it was lots of fun and interactive with the audience and musicians”). The possibility of “interacting with LIVE performance” was the aspect some liked the most.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>6. Interest/Curiosity (7)</strong></td>
<td>Several participants found the concept “interesting” and were curious to see future developments.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>7. Voting strategy (7)</strong></td>
<td>Voting strategies were diverse such as “personal preference”, multimodal considerations taking into account the visualisation, the votes and the music, trial and error and randomness, the music dynamics, and the votes from others.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>8. Responsiveness (5)</strong></td>
<td>As in SA, issues of responsiveness were reported (e.g. “not responsive enough for effective music”, “a sense of asynchrony between votes and performer execution of vote”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>9. Originality/Spontaneity (4)</strong></td>
<td>Interestingly, several participants felt attracted by how “unconventional” the music was and that its “spontaneity” created something new.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>10. Agency/Engagement (4)</strong></td>
<td>As in SA, the sense of agency towards the music was valued positively (“you feel like the music is influenced by you”) also respecting the place of the musicians (“I liked that I could influence the music but musicians could choose what to do without my feedback”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>11. Identification (3)</strong></td>
<td>Similarly to SA, a few participants were unsure about which performer they were controlling.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>12. Technical issues (3)</strong></td>
<td>A small number of technical issues occurred either due to type of browser/mobile phone and the network which was at times cluttered.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>13. Augmented stage (3)</strong></td>
<td>Several participants reported to have liked the performance setting due to the way the stage was presented or the “visual display”.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
About 120 interacting participants (35 completing surveys) showed that audience and performer participants valued sharing the process of musical creation. Both groups of users felt challenged by the novelty, audience members who took creative decisions and decoded their effects, performers, who followed scores generated while they were playing. Such challenges lead to positive affective responses for some audience participants who felt engaged in the performance and closely connected to performers, and to some frustration for others who misunderstood the system or wished to have more control. Open Symphony showed the potential to create performances that are “open”, “engaging”, “empowering” and “unusual”. Future analyses will investigate participant creative interactions using time series modeling. We are also interested in exploring applications for music pedagogy and audience engagement agendas.
TABLE 4
Thematic Analysis of Performer Feedback (Two) in Session B
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Theme (no of codes)</th>
<th>Discussion</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1. Usability / Design (7)</td>
<td>The system was judged easy to learn and to use by the two performers (“I thought the digital elements were easy to follow and intuitive.”, “Everything made sense, including the way the rehearsals went and the way we performed.”), only requiring little preparation before live performance (“I don’t think there has to be much rehearsal. It seems self-explanatory.”). The graphic design was also judged to be clear and aesthetic (“I loved the presentation! The symbols were beautiful and the layout was very clear.”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2. Musical complexity (4)</td>
<td>The two performers expressed that the musical complexity could be increased, e.g. through modulation (“I would be interested in how you can maybe shift tonalities and or modes within the piece to add another layer of complexity and color to the improvisation.”) or through harmony/layering (“I think the composition could even be a little more complex! Maybe a few different chords or different layers.”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3. Satisfaction (4)</td>
<td>The two performers were very positive about their experience from the rehearsal to the live execution (e.g. “All in all, great experience.”).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4. Audience engagement / Pedagogical outreach (2)</td>
<td>The potential of the system for audience engagement and music pedagogy was fleshed out by one of the performers (“I think, expanded, this could be a really interesting way to engage non-musicians and help them become familiarized with classical music.”).</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We thank the project music director, Kate Hayes, and the performers from Guildhall School of Music & Drama and the University of California, Berkeley. This work is partly supported by the FAST-IMPACT EPSRC project (EP/L019981/1), the Centre for Digital Music EPSRC Platform Grant (EP/E045235/1), the EU H2020 Audio Commons project (688382), QMUL’s Centre for Public Engagement (EP/L019981/1), the Centre for Digital Music EPSRC Platform Grant (EP/E045235/1), the EU H2020 Audio Commons project (688382), QMUL’s Centre for Public Engagement, the China Scholarship Council, and Arts Council England (Sound and Music Organisation Audience Labs).
REFERENCES
Yongmeng Wu is a PhD student in the Media and Arts Technology Centre for Doctoral Training, Queen Mary University of London. Her research interests include human-computer interaction, user experience, evaluation of interaction design (aesthetic experience, creativity, and engagement), and support of non-musicians’ creative engagement with novel musical interfaces. Wu has an MA in design (human computer interaction) from Hunan University, China. Contact her at yongmeng.wu@qmul.ac.uk.
Leshao Zhang is a PhD student in the Media and Arts Technology Centre for Doctoral Training, Queen Mary University of London, and a member of the Cognitive Science Research Group. His research interests include human-computer interaction and virtual reality. Zhang has an MSc in media and arts technology from Queen Mary University of London. Contact him at leshao.zhang@qmul.ac.uk.
Nick Bryan-Kinns is a reader in interaction design at Queen Mary University of London, and director of the EPSRC-AHRC Media and Arts Technology Centre for Doctoral Training. His research interests include the evaluation of interaction design, focusing on creativity, mutual engagement, and audio. Bryan-Kinns has a PhD in human-computer interaction. He is a Fellow of the British Computer Society. Contact him at n.bryan-kinns@qmul.ac.uk.
Mathieu Barthet Barthet is a lecturer and technical director of the Media and Arts Technology Studios at Queen Mary University of London. His research lies at the intersections of music informatics, human-computer interaction, affective computing, and perception. Barthet has a PhD on musical timbre analysis/synthesis from Aix-Marseille University and Centre National de Recherche Scientifique’s Laboratory of Mechanics and Acoustics. He is a member of IEEE, the Association for Computing Machinery, and the Audio Engineering Society. Contact him at m.barthet@qmul.ac.uk. |
Markets framed by culture
The role of local contexts in the rise of contemporary art commerce in Russia and India
Komarova, N.
Link to publication
Creative Commons License (see https://creativecommons.org/use-remix/cc-licenses):
Other
Citation for published version (APA):
Komarova, N. (2018). Markets framed by culture: The role of local contexts in the rise of contemporary art commerce in Russia and India.
## Appendix 1
Distribution of respondents per primary professional activity and city of data collection
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Primary professional activity</th>
<th>Moscow</th>
<th>St. Petersburg</th>
<th>New Delhi</th>
<th>Mumbai</th>
<th>Total</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Art dealer</td>
<td>18</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>23</td>
<td>13</td>
<td>64</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Artist</td>
<td>22</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>14</td>
<td>3</td>
<td>40</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Collector</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>3</td>
<td>7</td>
<td>13</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Curator</td>
<td>3</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Auctioneer/owner</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Museum/foundation director</td>
<td>3</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Art journalist</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Art fair owner</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>-</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Total</td>
<td>48</td>
<td>13</td>
<td>45</td>
<td>24</td>
<td>130</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Appendix 2
Sample interview questionnaire for art dealers and artists
Art Dealers
Introductory questions
• When and why did you decide to open a gallery?
• What atmosphere do you create in the gallery for its visitors? How do you accomplish it? Is the gallery open for general visitors on the regular working days?
Work with artists
• Which services does your gallery provide for artists? (short- or long-term basis)
• Do you represent artists exclusively? Is it important for you? Is it appropriate to work with artists represented by other galleries?
• Do you work on consignment or buy art works from them?
• Is it important for you to have good (friendly?) relationships with artists? Are there any restrictions of your relationships with artists?
• How do you find new artists? Do you think artists should be active themselves in contacting galleries?
• Do you discuss with artists their work? What aspects? Do you have an influence on the final product?
• Do you think an artist should have a recognizable style?
Promotion of artists: General
• How can you help an artist to become successful in the contemporary art market?
• Do you usually have a long term plan how an artist's career should develop?
• Have you established a typical approach to promotion of artists or is it always artist/situation/context dependent? Can you provide an example of different approaches?
• Do you seek for international recognition of the artists you work with? Is it important for you? Why? How do you work on artists' recognition on the international art scene?
• What are the indicators of success in Russia and abroad? How do you understand that an artist is internationally recognized?
• What would you consider a success or important achievement for an artist on different stages of his/her career? Can you give several examples of the artists you work with?
• Do you work on the public image of an artist you collaborate with? How? What can harm an artist’s image/ market success?
Specific questions: Media
• Are media important for your work and why? Which?
• Do you work with media/art critics?
• What information do you provide to art critics/journalists? (about the gallery/artist/exhibition/artwork)
• Do you have a PR department or assistant in the gallery? What work do they do?
• Do you use internet in your business? How? Is it becoming more important than earlier?
Specific questions: Art fairs
• Is it important to participate in art fairs? Why?
• How do you choose in which art fairs to participate and which artists/artworks to bring there?
• What can be a reason for you to refuse to participate in an art fair?
Specific questions: Exhibition policy
• How many exhibitions do you have per year? Would you like to be able to do more or less? Why?
• Do you organize more solo or group exhibitions? Are there any differences between them? What can be the purposes to organize either one or another?
• How do you choose artworks for a particular exhibition?
• Do you take your customers into consideration when preparing a new exhibition?
• Who produces exhibitions? Do you have a curator? Do you invite guest curators? Why?
• Is gallery space changing from exhibition to exhibition (lightening/colors/temporary walls etc.)? How? What are the reasons for that? Who decides how the exhibition settings should look like?
• How are openings usually organized? (official/informal) What is your invitation policy for the openings?
• Are you interested in any particular (type of) people to come to an opening? Collectors/critics/ friends? Why? How do you encourage them to come?
Work with collectors
- Who do you sell art to? Do you have a stable list of buying collectors? Or are they new all the time?
- Do you keep in touch with your customers? How?
- Do you advise to your collectors on what to buy? What is important for you?
- Do you ask artists to produce a new artwork if you know a collector interested in it?
- Do you sell to anybody who is interested in the artworks you have? Can you refuse to sell an artwork to somebody? What would be a reason?
- Are there any types of visitors that you are not happy to see in a gallery? Who are they?
General questions
- Are you a member of any dealer’s association? Or any other art related community? What are their aims? Why do you participate in them?
- Are there any informal groups that you can associate yourself with in the art world?
- How do you think, why people come to buy artworks at your gallery in particular? How is your gallery different from others in the market?
- Is it important for an art dealer to stay visible in the art world? What do you do to achieve that?
- Are there any ways of doing art commerce that you personally don’t approve?
- Do you have a model or ideal of running a gallery that you follow? Do you have a prototype?
- Are there any formal or informal rules of art business in Russia/India? (Do’s and don’ts) For example, what can harm your business or status in an art community?
Artists
Introductory questions
- When did you decide to become a professional artist?
- Do you care about your career in the art market? (if NO: but do you still sell your artworks?)
- Do you work with galleries or any other sales places?
- Do you have a studio? Do you organize vernissages there? Do you sell artworks from the studio?
- Are you represented by a gallery? By how many? In which cities/countries do you have galleries that you work with?
- How did you start working with these galleries? Do you think artists should be active in approaching galleries?
• What services do the galleries provide for you? (exhibitions/resources/fairs etc.) Are you informed about the sales of your works from the galleries?
• Do you think it is important to be represented by a commercial gallery today? Why? OR: Would you like to work with a commercial gallery? Why?
• Do you think it is good to have many galleries? Why?
• Do you think exclusive representation (in a city/country/region) is important? Why?
• What qualities should a gallery have in order for you (to want) to work with it?
• Do you exhibit regularly somewhere else? OR: Where do you usually exhibit your artworks?
• Do you sell your artworks at these exhibitions?
• Where else do you sell your artworks? How do you find/choose these places/events?
**Promotion: exhibitions**
• Do you participate more in solo or group exhibitions? What can be the advantages or disadvantages of participation either in one or another?
• Do you participate in the organization process of your exhibitions? How?
• Who do you invite to an exhibition of your works?
• How do you choose artworks for a particular exhibition? Do you envision potential spectators?
• How do you choose in which art events to participate? What can be a reason for you to refuse to participate in an art event you are invited to?
• Do you think that commercial and non-commercial art events and institutions are influencing each other? How?
**Artworks in the market**
• Do you work in one technique/style or try different ones? Art works in which techniques are selling better?
• Did you ever notice that some of your works are more attractive for collectors than others? How can you explain it?
• Do you create different works for sale and not for sale? Do you have art works that are not for sale? Why? Where do you exhibit them?
• Can you say that you have a distinctive/recognizable style? What is specific about it? Is it important for you? Why?
• Do you know of any artworks, which you or your gallery sold, that were resold afterwards? Does it happen often? Do you think it helps your market success?
Media and critics
- Are media important for you work and why? Which are?
- Do you collaborate with some media or art critics? How is your collaboration organized?
- Are you active in the internet? How does internet help you to promote your artworks?
Professional strategies
- Do you have a long-term idea of how your career should develop? What are your goals and plans? How will you attain them?
- Is it important to stay visible in the art world? Why? What do you do to accomplish that?
- Do you consider yourself a public person? Do you work on your public image? How?
- Do you think that market success is important for a contemporary artist today? What do you understand by market success?
- Do you seek for international recognition? Why? How should an artist promote him/herself abroad?
Buyers
- Do you have an image of your audience? Can you describe them?
- Who buys your artworks? Is it a particular type of people? Can you describe your typical buyer?
- Do you keep track of who has acquired your artworks? Is it important for you?
- Do you have regular buyers? Or are they new all the time?
- Do different people buy your artworks through different channels? Gallery/studio/festival/internet?
- Do you keep in touch with collectors who buy your art? How? Are you friends with them?
- Do you advise collectors what to buy? Do you convince them?
- Do you sell to everybody who is interested in the artworks you sell? Can you refuse selling an artwork? Why?
- Do you work on demand? Can a potential customer suggest you the topic/style/subject/colors?
General questions
- Are you a member of any artists’ association? Or any other art related community? What are the goals of these associations?
- Do these associations somehow support your work and sales of artworks?
- Are there any informal communities that you can associate yourself with in the art world?
• Do you have a role model or mentor in the art world? What characteristics would you like to adopt from this person?
• Who influences on your work? With whom do you discuss your artistic work? What aspects do you discuss? Aesthetic qualities/fitting the market/exhibition settings?
• Do you consider yourself a successful artist? What are the criteria?
• What can harm an artist’s image/ market success?
• How do you think, why people are interested in buying your artworks?
### Appendix 3
List of studied official art organizations
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Chinese organizations</th>
<th>In local language</th>
<th>Official website</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>China National Academy of Painting (CNAP)</td>
<td>中国国家画院</td>
<td><a href="http://www.chinanap.org/">http://www.chinanap.org/</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Beijing Fine Art Academy (BFAA)</td>
<td>北京画院</td>
<td><a href="http://www.bjaa.com.cn/">http://www.bjaa.com.cn/</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>China Artists Association (CAA)</td>
<td>中国美术家协会</td>
<td><a href="http://www.caanet.org.cn/">http://www.caanet.org.cn/</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Beijing Artists Association (BAA)</td>
<td>北京市美术家协会</td>
<td>None</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>China Calligraphers Association (CCA)</td>
<td>中国书法家协会</td>
<td><a href="http://www.ccagov.com.cn/">http://www.ccagov.com.cn/</a></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Russian organizations</th>
<th>In local language</th>
<th>Official website</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>The Russian Academy of Arts (RAA)</td>
<td>Российская Академия Художеств</td>
<td><a href="http://www.rah.ru/">http://www.rah.ru/</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The Union of Artist of Russia (UoAR)</td>
<td>Союз Художников России</td>
<td><a href="http://www.shr.su/">http://www.shr.su/</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The Moscow Artists Union (MAU)</td>
<td>Московский Союз Художников</td>
<td><a href="http://artanum.ru/">http://artanum.ru/</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The Creative Union of Russian Artists (CURA)</td>
<td>Творческий Союз Художников России</td>
<td><a href="http://tcxp.ru/">http://tcxp.ru/</a></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Bag checks of the crowds exiting the India Art Fair carrying some art with them.
New Delhi, February 2013
References
References
Kommersant (2016, August 17). Otkuda takie tseni: kto reshaet skolko stoit proizvedenie sovre-
mennogo iskusstva [Where are such prices coming from: who decided how much a work of contemporary art costs]. In Kommersant Lifestyle. Retrieved from http://kommersant.ru/ doc/3065261
Maines, D. R. (1993). Narrative’s Moment and Sociology’s Phenomena: Toward a Narrative Sociol-
References
References
BuksMArt.
Zitzewitz, K. (2013). The perfect frame: Presenting modern Indian art. Stories and photographs
Entrance to a contemporary art gallery.
St. Petersburg, May 2013
English summary
This dissertation is a comparative study of emerging contemporary art markets in Russia and India, in which I aimed to understand the differences between the two art markets and to theorize how local contexts affect market development. It answered the following research question: How can we explain the diversity of ways in which local contexts affect the development of new markets? I argue that there is a theoretical gap in the studies of market emergence and development, since most of the existing research takes an institutionalist stand and focuses on the increasing homogenization of organizational forms in the process of market emergence in new contexts (see, for example, Guthrie 2001; Lawrence and Phillips 2004; Jyrämä 2008). At the same time, there is a lack of conceptual tools to explain the widely observed diversity in this process (Beckert 2010). Our understanding of market emergence can be improved if we look at the local contexts not as obstacles on the way to institutional convergence, but as the available environment and resources necessary for markets to take shape. In order to understand how socio-cultural contexts matter in the process of market development, this thesis set out to identify the mechanisms that allow us to translate the elements of more general social order into particular market logics.
The thesis took the proliferation of contemporary art markets across the globe that started in the late 1980s and early 1990s, as an opportunity to study the process of market emergence that in many places has long passed or is hard to discern due to the large size or more complex structure of the developing markets (or market sectors). Empirically, the study has focused on the emerging contemporary art markets in Russia and India. In both countries the art markets barely existed prior to the 1990s, but other than that they have rather distinct histories and dynamics of development, which makes them a productive comparative case. For this research, I conducted 121 semi-structured interviews with 130 various art market participants (primarily with artists and art dealers) in Moscow, St. Petersburg, New Delhi, and Mumbai, between April 2012 and July 2013. In addition, in the period of data collection I made ethnographic observations at various art events (educational events for collectors, press conferences, artists’ studios, art fairs and the openings of exhibitions and residences). In the composition of this thesis each empirical chapter solves a puzzle related to the observed difference in the way local contexts affect the development of new markets in the two countries, and represents an analytical level at which local contexts turned out to be relevant in market development.
Chapter 2 explains why the similar organizational heritage of official art organizations, such as the Artists Unions and Art Academies, that were the main vehicles of art distribution in the communist era prior to the development of markets, ended up playing very different roles once the commerce for art began to develop (co-authored with Svetlana Kharchenkova and Olav Velthuis this chapter compares the Russian and Chinese art markets). In China, membership in these organizations became a status symbol, allowing an artist to set higher prices in the market. In Russia, membership in these organizations has very low status in the art market. Instead, they provide “welfare” support for artists whose market position is very weak. The chapter proceeds from the varieties of capitalism approach (Hall and Soskice 2001) to account for the diversity in institutional complementarity between old governmental organizations and new market infrastructure. Yet, the “varieties” observed in the two countries cannot be explained by historical differences (the original institutional structures were similar) or by differences in emergent institutional structures that official art organizations had to adapt to (commercial markets in both countries seemed to follow global patterns of development). The different roles that governmental art organizations ended up playing in the markets can be explained by the variation in the dominant interpretative frameworks that art market actors use when dealing with these organizations. Thus, in Russia, consecrated contemporary artists, their dealers and clients tend to see the participation of the state in market affairs in a negative light. They understand the state as a weakened villain that they can resist by organizing and participating in an independent private market. In China, on the contrary, for a significant group of artists and buyers, a relationship with the state in the form of official rankings equates to prestige. The role of the state and its relationship with the market is interpreted positively.
Chapter 3 analyzed the level of individual agencies of market actors to explain the paradox when the presence of social, economic and cultural resources, in case of India, and the complete absence of these, in case of Russia, both serve as mechanisms motivating actors to start commercial operations in an emerging contemporary art market. In the example of art dealers’ decisions to open a private gallery, the chapter investigates how potential entrepreneurs are motivated to become active in establishing new markets, and shows how different contexts “activate” the contemporary art markets in Russia and India. In India, family backgrounds predominantly structure the decision-making processes, among other ways, through the economic, social and cultural capital that these families provide. Art dealers see their role as providing an alternative to the lack of governmental support for art. In Russia, by contrast, art dealers explain their decision to open a gallery as creating an alternative to the strong but biased governmental support, while resources provided by family backgrounds are non-existent. It could be said that the activation mechanism here was “negative”: the situation of socio-economic turmoil in the 1990s and 2000s was an opportunity to try a new activity in the field of art and to establish oneself independently of the state during a period of its weakness. Thus, seemingly opposite situations in the socio-economic contexts of the two countries
provoked the same action, leading to the emergence of an art market. I argue that in this case we see how the idea of a market as a place for free economic exchange guides the actions of art dealers independently of available social structures. Even though the market itself was barely developed at the time when art dealers were making the decision to open a gallery, the possibility of a market served as an interpretative framework used by art dealers to solve different practical problems in the two countries. Employing an interpretative framework of an art market enabled different elements of local contexts in the two countries, reframing them into relevant resources for market development.
Chapter 4 also looked into the individual agencies of market actors, in this case early career artists, in the context of the available institutional infrastructure of the two art scenes. It aimed to show how the wider art scenes developing in the two countries can themselves be a relevant local context in which art markets develop. Empirically, I was wondering why artistic career strategies differ in the two countries, and what effect this can have on market development. In this chapter I showed how the differences between artists’ understandings of success, their relationships to various art market actors, and even the types of art they produce, are conditioned by the institutional composition of the artistic fields. In India, where non-commercial art institutions, such as museums and foundations, are scarce and art dealers are the most powerful gatekeepers, the career strategies of artists are shaped by market logic. In Russia artists are engaged in close relationships with locally strong non-commercial art institutions that provide alternative tracks for artistic recognition and promote anti-market orientations among artists. The argument is that the meaning systems of market actors reflect the institutional composition of the art worlds that art market actors are part of. Therefore, disinterestedness in economic success, often depicted as a universal organizing principle of the field of high art, is contextual, and is less relevant in art scenes where the balance of power between the commercial and non-commercial contemporary art institutions is different. Furthermore, prevalent interpretative frameworks have an effect on how the two markets develop, which types of institutions prevail, which practices are dominant, and how prominent the commercial success is. Dealing only with foundations and museums, and creating art that is hard to sell, Russian artists weaken the position of art dealers. At the same time, conforming to the dominance of commercial galleries, Indian artists support a world in which museums are obsolete.
Chapter 5 shifts the focus of analysis to the intra-market level in order to investigate the role of narratives in markets’ operation and elucidate why they structurally differ in Russia and India. This chapter is the theoretical core of the thesis, in which I argue that in order to understand the role that interpretative frameworks, such as narratives, play in the development of markets, we need to take into consideration both their internal dynamics and the social context of their production. Empirically, I looked at two versions of art market crisis narratives developed in Russia and India. The
chapter shows that there is a widely shared crisis narrative with a coherent structure in the Indian art market. Conversely, fragmented and contested stories that lack narrative structure dominate in the Russian art market. The analysis of the first case highlights the coherent narrative structure and shows its productive role in the Indian market – it provides a moral justification for existing market norms and produces a perspective for the future. The chapter argues that a market narrative has social functions: a coherent narrative maintains cohesion and allows smooth market operation, and therefore serves as a stabilization mechanism along with institutional structures or social networks. At the same time, fragmented stories filling the market in the Russian case send mixed signals, and fail to serve as a stabilization mechanism in the market. To understand the persistence of conflicting views of the crisis, the analysis of the second case focuses on the context of narrative production and connects the conflicting interpretations of the crisis in the Russian art market to contested hierarchies and persistent uncertainty. It shows that different versions of the crisis stories are employed by dominant groups of actors, striving to defend their legitimacy, and by actors aiming to question their domination in order to establish themselves in the market.
Finally, Chapter 6 zooms in on a single art market of India in order to question the assumptions about the homogeneity of a national market and the universal role that social contexts play in it. It investigates the differences in understandings of economic practices, by focusing on the practice of awarding a discount on a work of art, and shows how this is related to differentiation between actors within a single market. The argument is that unevenly distributed systems of norms and values affect the operation of a market. The chapter distinguishes two circuits of commerce (Zelizer 2010) in the Indian art market: internationally oriented artists and dealers, whose attitude towards discounts is shaped by the desire to defend the aesthetic value of art, and locally oriented artists and dealers, who are positive about giving discounts and embrace them as a legitimate element of their national culture. The strategy of giving (or not giving) a discount can be based on the rules of the communities of different scope and focus: international, but focused on art, in one case, local, but disregarding the specificity of a product, in the other. Explicit differences in meanings attached to market practices allow drawing symbolic boundaries in a market where all actors have to interact with one another. Thus, the two circuits not only coexist in the same market, but also are in opposition to each other. By defining the criteria of membership in a circuit and by controlling the crossing of its boundary, members of the circuit distinguish themselves from others, i.e. establish power relations between those who are in and those who are out.
In the conclusion of the dissertation I synthesize the findings and analytical observations of the empirical chapters into a coherent theoretical framework, explaining the mechanisms by which diverse local contexts affect the development of markets. I argue for the importance of interpretative frameworks used by market actors in defining which elements of local contexts matter for them and
in which ways. In other words, the main argument of this thesis is that interpretative frameworks mediate the effect of local contexts on market development by shaping the perceptions of local contexts and by enabling some, and dismissing other, strategies of action (Swidler 1986). I propose that, in order to explain this mediating effect, the studies of market development should draw on the resources of cultural sociology, focusing on the meaning-making processes in social life.
This thesis has shown that interpretative frameworks available to market actors are not a direct representation of available social structures. I have identified two reasons why they refract (rather than reflect) the impact of local contexts: first, interpretative frameworks have limited circulation within a market (and are unevenly distributed), and second, their immanent logics meaningfully enact the elements of local contexts in one or another way. Only when analyzed in conjunction, can these two dimensions sufficiently explain the mediating effect of interpretative frameworks. I argue that to perform such an analysis we need to draw from two different theoretical perspectives developed in cultural sociology. Thus, on the one hand, in order to investigate how interpretative frameworks relate to the social and material environment in which they are produced and circulated, I use the resources of the field theory developed by Bourdieu (1984; 1989). This perspective allows highlighting how the limited circulation of interpretative frameworks and the specific interests of actors belonging to different social groups lead to employing diverse elements of social contexts as active position-taking in an emerging field. On the other hand, the thesis follows the argument of the strong program in cultural sociology (Alexander and Smith 2001) advocating for the “relative autonomy of culture.” It implies that social behavior “follows codes that it does not invent” (Alexander 2003) and that these symbolic codes have their own inherent logic and dynamics that cannot be that easily reduced to external social structures. While these two perspectives are often presented as oppositional, this dissertation not only identifies their limitations, but also shows how they can productively complement each other.
The developed theoretical framework that refocuses the analysis of market development towards the meaning-making processes allows us to explain the diversity in the process of market emergence, and therefore contributes to the field of economic sociology. This dissertation shows that the idea of a market as a place for free economic exchange can have different symbolic meanings for market actors that go beyond maximizing individual profits. This means that markets can emerge and develop for a variety of reasons. Furthermore, by looking at the processes of meaning-making, we are able to better understand the early stages of market emergence, when the market has not yet established its own rules and routines, and market actors have to rely on the non-economic interpretative frameworks available in broader society. Uneven distribution of these frameworks feeds into the diversity behind the process of market emergence and affects the shapes markets take.
While this thesis has focused on the development of art markets, the ambition to apply cultural analysis to understand the process of market emergence is by no means restricted to the market for symbolic goods. Looking at the development of the infrastructure for trading contemporary art and the increasing commodification of art consumption in Russia and India can help us to understand a more diverse range of social issues in contemporary society. First, scholars have already shown that stock markets (Zuckerman 1999), financial markets (Abolafia 2010; Tognato 2012), medical markets (Almeling 2011; Healy and Kraviec 2012), and labor markets (Bauder 2001), are no less cultural and can be analyzed as such. Furthermore, new markets and market sectors still emerge in close proximity to our daily lives (Burawoy 2007). Such topics as the marketization of education (Slaughter and Rhoades 2004; Bartlett et al. 2002), the commodification of the body (Sharp 2000), nature or tourism (Johnston and Edwards 1994; Lawrence and Phillips 2004) receive a lot of public attention. The theoretical framework for studying the cultural mechanisms of market development can also be helpful for understanding the dynamics of these phenomena.
Dit proefschrift is een vergelijkende studie naar opkomende markten voor hedendaagse kunst in Rusland en India, met als doel de verschillen tussen de twee kunstmarkten te begrijpen en te theoreti-zeren hoe lokale contexten marktontwikkelingen beïnvloeden. Het beantwoordt de volgende onderzoeks vraag: *Hoe kunnen we de diversiteit verklaren in de manieren waarop lokale contexten de ontwikkeling van nieuwe markten beïnvloeden?* Ik betoog dat er een theoretische kloof bestaat in studies naar het ontstaan en de ontwikkeling van markten, aangezien het meeste bestaande onderzoek vanuit een institutioneel perspectief wordt verricht en focus op de toenemende homogenisering van organisatievormen bij het ontstaansproces van markten in nieuwe contexten (zie bijvoorbeeld Guthrie 2001; Lawrence and Phillips 2004; Jyrämä 2008). Tegelijkertijd is er een gebrek aan conceptuele handvatten om de veelvuldig waargenomen diversiteit in dit proces te kunnen verklaren (Beckert 2010). We kunnen de opkomst van markten beter begrijpen als we lokale contexten niet beschouwen als obstakels op de weg richting institutionele convergentie, maar als hulpbronnen die markten nodig hebben om vorm te krijgen. Om de rol te begrijpen die sociaal-culturele contexten spelen in het proces van marktontwikkeling, tracht dit proefschrift de mechanismes te identifieren die de elementen van sociale orde in het algemeen kunnen vertalen naar specifieke marktlogica’s.
Het proefschrift nam de sterke wereldwijde toename van hedendaagse kunstmarkten sinds eind jaren tachtig en begin negentig als een gelegenheid om het proces van marktvorming te bestuderen. Deze processen hebben immers op veel plaatsen al lang geleden plaatsgevonden of zijn moeilijk waarne-embaar door de grotere schaal en complexere structuur van andere opkomende markten (of marktsectoren). Empirisch richt de studie zich op de opkomende hedendaagse kunstmarkten in Rusland en India. In beide landen was vóór de jaren negentig nog nauwelijks sprake van een kunstmarkt. Er zijn grote verschillen tussen beide landen in de manieren waarop de kunstmarkten zich sindsdien ontwikkeld hebben. Daardoor kunnen deze casussen een vruchtbaar vergelijking opleveren. Voor dit onderzoek heb ik, tussen april 2012 en juli 2013, 121 semi-gestructureerde interviews gehouden met 130 uiteenlopende actoren in de kunstmarkt (vooral kunstenaars en kunsthandelaren) in Moskou, Sint-Petersburg, New Delhi en Mumbai. Verder heb ik in dezelfde periode etnografische observaties verricht bij verschillende kunstevenementen (cursussen en lezingen voor verzamelaars, persconferenties, ateliers, kunstbeurzen en openingen van exposities en artist in residence programma’s). Het proefschrift is zodanig opgebouwd dat elk empirisch hoofdstuk een puzzel oplost met betrekking tot de waargenomen verschillen tussen de twee landen in de manieren waarop lokale contexten de ontwik- keling van nieuwe markten beïnvloeden. Ook vertegenwoordigt elk hoofdstuk een analytisch niveau waarop lokale contexten relevant bleken te zijn voor marktontwikkeling.
Hoofdstuk 2 verklaart waarom vergelijkbare organisatorische uitgangsposities van officiële kunstorganisaties zoals kunstenaarsbonden en kunstacademies, die tijdens het communisme nog de belangrijkste vehikels van kunstdistributie waren, uiteindelijk heel verschillende rollen speelden toen de kunsthandel eenmaal van de grond kwam (dit samen met Svetlana Kharchenkova en Olav Velthuis geschreven hoofdstuk vergelijkt de Russische en Chinese kunstmarkten). In China werd lidmaatschap van deze organisaties een statussymbool, wat hogere marktprijzen mogelijk maakte. In Rusland had lidmaatschap juist een lage status voor de kunstmarkt, maar zorgden de organisaties voor “bijstand” aan kunstenaars met een zeer zwakke marktpositie. Het hoofdstuk gebruikt het zogeheten Varieties of Capitalism perspectief (Hall and Soskice 2001) om de diversiteit te verklaren in de manieren waarop oude overheidsorganisaties en nieuwe marktinfrastucturen elkaar institutioneel aanvullen. Toch kunnen de waargenomen “variëteiten” tussen de twee landen niet verklaard worden door historische verschillen (want de oorspronkelijke institutionele structuren waren vergelijkbaar), noch door verschillen in opkomende institutionele structuren waaraan officiële kunstorganisaties zich moesten aanpassen (want commerciële markten lijken in beide landen mondiale ontwikkelingspatronen te volgen). De verschillende rollen die overheidsorganisaties in de kunst uiteindelijk speelden, kunnen verklaard worden door de variatie in het dominante interpretatieve kader dat actoren in de kunstmarkt gebruiken als ze met die organisaties te maken hebben. In Rusland zien betrokkenen (geconsecrereerde hedendaagse kunstenaars, hun handelaren en klanten) deelname van de staat in marktzaken eerder in een negatief licht. Ze zien de staat als een verzwakte boosdoener, die ze kunnen weerstaan door zich te organiseren in en deel te nemen aan een onafhankelijke particuliere markt. In China daarentegen ziet een grote groep kunstenaars en kunstkopers de relatie met de staat als een kans op officiële posities en dus prestige. Zij interpreteren de rol van de staat en diens relatie tot de markt positief.
Hoofdstuk 3 analyseert het niveau van de individuele handelingsvrijheid van marktactoren. Het verklaart de paradox dat zowel de aanwezigheid (in India) als de complete afwezigheid (in Rusland) van sociale, economische en culturele hulpbronnen, actoren kon bewegen om commerciële activiteiten te beginnen in een opkomende markt voor hedendaagse kunst. Het hoofdstuk gebruikt het voorbeeld van de beslissing van kunsthandelaars om een particuliere galerie te openen, om te onderzoeken wat potentiële ondernemers motiveert om actief nieuwe markten op te zetten. Het laat zien hoe verschillende contexten de hedendaagse kunstmarkt in Rusland en India “activeren”. In India zijn het voornamelijk familieachtergronden die zulke beslissingsprocessen structureren, onder andere door het economisch, sociaal en cultureel kapitaal dat die families verschaffen. Indiase kunsthandelaars zien hun rol als een alternatief voor de ontbrekende overheidssteun voor kunst. In Rusland daarentegen leggen kunsthandelaars hun beslissing om een galerie te openen uit als alternatief voor de juist sterke maar inhoudelijk te sterk sturende overheidssteun, terwijl ze geéén hulpbronnen vanuit de familie hebben. Het activatiemechanisme was hier “negatief”: de situatie van
sociaal-economische onrust in de jaren 1990 en 2000 vormde een kans om een nieuwe activiteit uit te proberen in het veld van de kunst en om zich te vestigen, onafhankelijk van de op dat moment zwakke staat. De schijnbaar tegengestelde sociaal-economische contexten van de twee landen lokten dus dezelfde handelingen uit, die leidden tot de opkomst van een kunstmarkt. Ik betoog dat we in dit geval zien hoe de idee van een markt als een plaats voor vrije economische uitwisseling de handelingen van kunsthandelaars stuurt, onafhankelijk van aanwezige sociale structuren. Hoewel de markt zelf nog nauwelijks ontwikkeld was toen kunsthandelaars besloten een galerie te openen, gebruikten ze in beide landen wel het interpretatieve kader van een mogelijke markt, om verschillende praktische problemen op te lossen. Het inzetten van een interpretatief kader van een kunstmarkt zorgde er in beide landen voor dat verschillende elementen van lokale contexten in stelling werden gebracht. Die werden daardoor omgevormd in relevante hulpbronnen voor marktontwikkeling.
Ook hoofdstuk 4 gaat over de individuele handelingsvrijheid van marktactoren, in dit geval kunstenaars aan het begin van hun carrière, in de context van de beschikbare institutionele infrastructuur in de twee kunstscenes. Het doel was te laten zien hoe de bredere kunstscenes die zich in de twee landen ontwikkelen, zelf een relevante lokale context kunnen zijn waarin kunstmarkten zich ontwikkelen. Ik stelde de empirische vraag waarom artistieke carrièreestrategieën tussen de twee landen verschillen en welk effect dit kan hebben op marktontwikkeling. Ik laat in dit hoofdstuk zien hoe de verschillen tussen de landen in hoe kunstenaars succes begrijpen, welke relaties ze hebben met verschillende actoren op de kunstmarkt en zelfs welke soorten kunst ze maken, bepaald worden door de institutionele samenstelling van de artistieke velden. In India, waar non-commerciële kunstinstellingen zoals musea en stichtingen schaars zijn en waar kunsthandelaars de machtigste poortwachters zijn, worden carrièreestrategieën van kunstenaars gevormd door de marktlogica. In Rusland hebben kunstenaars juist hechte banden met lokaal sterke non-commerciële kunstinstellingen, die alternatieve paden voor artistieke erkenning verschaffen en die bij kunstenaars een anti-markt oriëntatie aankweken. Mijn redenering is dat de betekenisystemen van marktactoren de institutionele samenstelling van kunstwerelden waar zij deel van uitmaken weerspiegelen. Daardoor is onverschilligheid tegenover economisch succes, wat vaak weergegeven wordt als een universeel organiserend principe binnen het veld van de hoge kunst, afhankelijk van de context. Dit principe is minder relevant in kunstscenes waarin de balans tussen commerciële en non-commerciële hedendaagsekunstinstellingen anders ligt. Verder hebben heersende interpretatieve kaders een effect op hoe de twee markten zich ontwikkelen, welke types instellingen de overhand hebben, welke praktijken domineren en hoe prominent het commerciële succes is. Door alleen met stichtingen en musea te werken en kunst te maken die slecht verkoopbaar is, verzwakken Russische kunstenaars de positie van kunsthandelaren. En door zich juist te conformeren aan de dominantie van commerciële galeries, steunen Indiase kunstenaars een wereld waarin musea overbodig zijn.
Hoofdstuk 5 verlegt de focus van de analyse naar het intra-marktniveau om de rol van narratieve in het opereren van markten te onderzoeken en om uit te zoeken waarom Rusland en India hierin structureel van elkaar verschillen. Dit hoofdstuk vormt het theoretische hart van het proefschrift. Ik betoog dat we de rol die interpretatieve kaders, zoals narratieve, spelen in de ontwikkeling van markten kunnen begrijpen door zowel hun interne dynamieken als de sociale context van de productie ervan in overweging te nemen. Empirisch vertaalt dit zich in het bestuderen van narratieve rond een crisis in de kunstmarkt, die zich in Rusland en India verschillend ontwikkelden. Het hoofdstuk laat zien dat er in de Indiase kunstmarkt sprake is van een breed gedeeld crisisnarratief met een coherente structuur. De Russische kunstmarkt daarentegen wordt gedomineerd door gefragmenteerde en betwiste verhalen zonder narratieve structuur. De analyse van de eerste casus belicht de cohereente narratieve structuur en laat zien hoe productief die is in de Indiase markt – het verschaft een meerre rechtvaardiging van bestaande marktnormen en levert een perspectief voor de toekomst op. Het hoofdstuk betoogt dat een marktnarratief sociale functies heeft: een coherent narratief houdt cohesie in stand en maakt soepele marktoperaties mogelijk. Daardoor dient het als een stabiliseringsmechanisme, net als institutionele structuren of sociale netwerken. Tegelijkertijd verzenden de gefragmenteerde verhalen in de Russische markt juist gemengde signalen, waardoor die niet slagen als stabiliseringsmechanisme. Om het voortbestaan van tegenstrijdige visies op de crisis te begrijpen, richt de analyse van de tweede casus zich op de context van narratieve productie en verbindt ze de tegenstrijdige interpretaties van de crisis in de Russische kunstmarkt met betwiste hiërarchieën en voortdurende onzekerheid. De analyse laat zien dat verschillende versies van de crisisverhalen worden aangewend door enerzijds dominerende groepen actoren, die hun legitimiteit willen verdedigen, en anderzijds door actoren die deze dominantie juist bevragen om voor zichzelf in de markt een naam te maken.
Tot slot zoomt hoofdstuk 6 in op de kunstmarkt in India, om vraagtekens te plaatsen bij de aanname dat de nationale markt homogeen is en dat sociale contexten hierin een universele rol spelen. Het onderzoekt de verschillende manieren waarop economische praktijken begrepen worden, door te focussen op de praktijk om een kunstwerk met korting te verkopen, en het laat zien hoe dit zich verhoudt tot differentiatie tussen actoren binnen één markt. Het argument is dat (verschillen in) systemen van normen en waarden de werking van een markt beïnvloeden. Het hoofdstuk onderscheidt twee handelscircuits (Zelizer 2010) in de Indiase kunstmarkt: internationaal georiënteerde kunstenaars en handelaars, wier kritische houding tegenover het geven van kortingen voortkomt uit de wens om de esthetische waarde van kunst te verdedigen, en lokaal georiënteerde kunstenaars en handelaars, die kortingen omarmen als een legitiem onderdeel van hun nationale cultuur. De strategie om al dan niet korting te geven is gebaseerd op de regels in werelden van verschillende reikwijdte en focus: in het ene geval internationaal, maar gericht op kunst, en in het andere geval lokaal, maar het specifieke van een bepaald product negerend. Expliciete verschillen tussen
Nederlandse samenvatting
de betekenissen die aan marktpraktijken worden verbonden, maken het mogelijk om symbolische scheidslijnen te trekken binnen een markt waarin alle actoren met elkaar moeten omgaan. De twee circuits bestaan dus niet alleen naast elkaar binnen dezelfde markt, maar ook tegenover elkaar. Door de criteria van lidmaatschap te definiëren en controle uit te oefenen over het overschrijden van grenzen, onderscheiden leden van het circuit zich van anderen. Met andere woorden: ze vestigen een machtsverhouding tussen degenen die erbij horen en degenen die eruit liggen.
In de conclusie van het proefschrift breng ik de bevindingen en analytische observaties uit de empirische hoofdstukken samen in een coherent theoretisch kader. Het verklaart de mechanismes waardoor diverse lokale contexten de ontwikkeling van markten beïnvloeden. Ik pleit voor het belang van interpretatieve kaders die marktactoren gebruiken, om vast te stellen welke elementen van lokale contexten er voor hen toe doen en op welke manier. Met andere woorden, het belangrijkste argument van dit proefschrift is dat interpretatieve kaders een mediërende rol spelen bij het effect van lokale contexten op marktontwikkelingen. Dit doen zij door de percepties van lokale contexten vorm te geven en door sommige handelingsstrategieën mogelijk te maken en andere af te wijzen (Swidler 1986). Ik stel dat, om dit mediërende effect te kunnen verklaren, studies naar marktontwikkeling gebruik moeten maken van inzichten uit de cultuursociologie rond processen van betekenisgeving in het sociale leven.
Het proefschrift liet zien dat de interpretatieve kaders waarvan marktactoren zich bedienen, geen directe weerspiegeling zijn van de beschikbare sociale structuren. Ik heb twee redenen vastgesteld waarom die kaders de invloed van lokale contexten vervormen (in plaats van weerspiegelen): ten eerste zijn ze niet wijdverspreid binnen een markt (en zijn ze ongelijk verdeeld), en ten tweede hebben ze hun eigen innerlijke logica’s die aspecten van lokale contexten verschillend in stelling brengen. Alleen wanneer die twee dimensies in hun samenhang geanalyseerd worden, kunnen ze een voldoende verklaring bieden voor het mediërende effect van de interpretatieve kaders. Ik betoog dat we, om zo’n analyse te kunnen uitvoeren, van twee verschillende theoretische perspectieven uit de cultuursociologie gebruik moeten maken. Aan de ene kant kunnen we onderzoeken hoe interpretatieve kaders zich verhouden tot de sociale en materiële omgeving waarin ze zijn gevormd en verspreid, door gebruik te maken van de door Bourdieu (1984; 1989) ontwikkelde veldtheorie. Dit perspectief kan de beperkte verspreiding van interpretatieve kaders en de specifieke belangen van actoren uit verschillende sociale groepen benadrukken, die leiden tot het aanwenden van diverse elementen van sociale contexten als actieve positie-innames in een opkomend veld. Aan de andere kant volgt het proefschrift het argument van het zogeheten Strong Program in de cultuursociologie (Alexander en Smith 2001), die de “relatieve autonomie van cultuur” bepleit. Dit programma houdt in dat sociaal gedrag “codes volgt die het niet uitvindt” (Alexander 2003) en dat die symbolische codes hun eigen inherente logica en dynamiek hebben die niet eenvoudig kan worden gereduceerd.
tot externe sociale structuren. Hoewel deze twee perspectieven vaak worden neergezet als tegenstrijdig, laat dit proefschrift niet alleen hun beperkingen zien, maar ook hoe ze elkaar vruchtbare kunnen aanvullen.
Het ontwikkelde theoretisch kader, dat de aandacht van de analyse van marktontwikkelingen opnieuw richt op processen van betekenisgeving, maakt het mogelijk om diversiteit in het proces van marktvorming te verklaren en draagt daardoor bij aan het veld van de economische sociologie. Het proefschrift laat zien dat de idee van een markt als een plaats voor vrije economische uitwisseling voor marktactoren verschillende symbolische betekenissen kan hebben, los van louter het maximaliseren van individueel profijt. Dit betekent dat markten om verschillende redenen kunnen opkomen en zich ontwikkelen. Bovendien kunnen we, door te kijken naar processen van betekenisgeving, de vroege stadia in het ontstaan van markten beter begrijpen, als de markt nog geen eigen regels en gebruiken heeft vastgesteld en als marktactoren nog moeten bouwen op niet-economische interpretatieve kaders die in de bredere samenleving beschikbaar zijn. Het feit dat deze kaders niet voor iedereen hetzelfde zijn leidt tot diversiteit in het ontstaansproces van markten en beïnvloedt de vormen die ze aannemen.
|
Printograms
Prints developed directly onto garments
An investigation by Elin Holm
2018.3.08
Abstract
The fast growing revolution of digital printers has made customized printed textiles easy to come by as anyone can order them online. As a result the use of prints in fashion is more common than ever and the difficulty to distinguish individuality rises.
This degree work has therefore glanced through history to search for new possibilities in the old techniques. The discovery is the unexplored potential of light sensitive dyes. A technique borrowed from analogue photography and that dates back to the 19th century, yet there is very little trace of it being used in the field of fashion. The directness of this technique opens for possibilities to create prints directly onto voluminous and irregular forms without the dye interfering with the materials qualities. Hence this work is investigating the relation between print and form and by printing directly onto garments it aims to challenge the hierarchical structure between the two.
Can printing directly onto garments create a closer relation between print and form design? Are there potential expressions in analogue techniques that can’t be achieved digitally? And does it make sense to be analogue in a digital world if it equals individuality? That is what this degree work aims to answer as it takes advantage of the technique’s unique qualities and presents new aesthetic expressions in fashion design.
Keywords:
Photographic Print Design, Analogue, Solarfast, UV-developed dye, Direct-to-Garment Printing
Index
1. Introduction
1.1 Images of Work
1.2 Abstract
1.3 Keywords
2. Index
3. Background
3.1 Methods in Print Design
3.2 Direct to Garment Printing
3.3 Other Techniques for Direct to Garment Printing
3.4 Uv-developed Dye
3.5 Sunprints in Art and Fashion
3.6 The Novelty
4. State of the Art
4.1 Engineered Print Design
4.2 Photographic Print Design
4.3 Print Steered Form
4.4 Print and Voluminous Form
4.5 Experimental Print Developments
4.6 Cyanotype Prints on Garments
5. Aim/Motive
5.1 Aim
5.2 Motive/Idea
5.2.1 A Shift in Hierarchy
5.2.2 A Link Between Form and Print
5.2.3 Presenting New Possibilities
6. Method
6.1 Experimental
6.2 Circularity
6.3 Specific Method
6.4 How the Technique Works
7. Development
7.1 The Initial Steps
7.2 Printing Techniques
7.2.1 Printing with Garments
7.2.2 Printing With Fabrics
7.2.3 Printing with Motifs on Clearfilm
7.2.4 Printing with Objects
7.3 Testing Material Qualities
7.4 Printing on Material Manipulations
7.5 Colour Development
7.6 Form Development
7.6.1 Form Development
7.6.2 First Prototypes
7.6.3 Line-up Sketches
7.6.4 Look 1
7.6.5 Look 2
7.6.6 Look 3
7.6.7 Look 4
7.6.8 Look 5
7.6.9 Look 6
7.6.10 Look 7
8. Result
8.1 Look 1
8.2 Look 2
8.3 Look 3
8.4 Look 4
8.5 Look 5
8.6 Look 6
8.7 Look 7
8.8 8.8.1 Specification Sheet - Leather Jacket
8.8.2 Specification Sheet - Leather Jumpsuit
8.8.3 Specification Sheet - Frill Pants
8.8.4 Specification Sheet - Asymmetric Circle Skirt
9. Discussion
9.1 Discussion
9.2 Conclusion
Methods in print design
The desire to apply colour and print design to fabric stretches over multiple millennia. Joyce Storey (1992) mention in her book The Thames and Hudson Manual of Textile Printing that "various records show that printed fabric did exist about 2500 B.C.", since then the possible techniques and options of chemicals that can be used to create print designs has been widely evolved. Storey continues writing that "Colour can be applied to cloth either chemically or physically. With the Chemical process, the colour becomes part of the fabric, normally via the action of a fixing agent when steamed or dry heated". In the book Textiles and Fashion the author Jenny Udale (2014) states that "Print can be applied to a fabric through the techniques of screen-, block, roller, mono hand or digital printing. Pattern, colour, and texture can be achieved by printing with a variety of media, including pigment, dye, flock or glitter." (Udale 2014).
The majority of techniques to apply colour or print to cloth require an after treatment such as heat or steam. This is limiting the measurements of the cloth that are to be printed onto set by the parameters of such fixating equipment. Therefore it is most often a fabric that is being printed rather than a garment even when the print is intended for fashion. Which creates a certain hierarchical structure between print and form design where they are handled as separate processes.
Direct to garment printing
When speaking of direct to garment printing one is often referring to a process of printing on textiles and garments using specialized or modified inkjet technology. The three key requirements for a direct to garment printer are a way to hold the garment in a fixed position, an inkjet print head, and specialty inks (inkjet textile inks) that are applied to the textile directly by the print head and are absorbed by the garment's fibres (en.wikipedia.org, 2018). Direct to garment printing is commonly used within commercial t-shirt front placement prints, see figure 2. This type of direct to garment print design allows a rather limited print area, it also requires the garment that goes in to the machine to be flat and thin so to fit the machine. Other print machines that allow printing on more elaborate forms such as shoes has been developed but not yet had a major breakthrough. (En.wikipedia.org, 2018)
Other techniques for direct to garment prints
Other techniques for direct to garment printing are airbrushing with textile paint, fig 2 (YouTube 2012), screen printing with pigment inks, fig 4 (Youtube 2013) or tie dye with reactive colours, fig 5. All of which need an after treatment such as heat fixating or steam fixating, this limits the size possibilities of the media to print on to material able to fit a steam pipe or heat press in order for it to become permanent. The tie dye technique is also limited to a very specific expression and the airbrushing and screen printing leaves a coated surface which affects the quality of the garments material. The opportunity to print directly onto a garment that has not have to be entirely flat opens for carefully considered placements and the possibility to print over seams and other details. A technique that does not interfere with the materials qualities would also allow a wider range of expression in materials to be printed while the techniques commonly used in the industry leaves a certain stiffness to the material.
Uv-Developed Dye
Besides the digital inkjet-machines requirement to print on a slim and even surface it is often the after treatment to fixate a colour to its media that is limiting the possibilities of printing directly onto garments of more elaborate form than a basic t-shirt. It’s usually a matter of fitting the garment into a heat press, oven or steam pipe. However there are less explored print techniques that do not require this type of after treatment in order to be permanent, for example the uv-developed dye called Solarfast. On Jacquard products (2018) website it can be read that “Solarfast is a chemical that fixates to its media by exposure to uv-light. This unique property means SolarFast may be used to easily create photograms, continuous tone photographs and sun prints on paper and natural fabrics in any color”. It is similar to cyanotype, also known as the blueprint process, that was invented in 1842 by the astronomer John Herschel who was trying to find a way to copy his notes. The cyanotype process produce a white image on blue background. One of the first people to put the cyanotype process to use was Anna Atkins (1799-1871), who in October 1843 became the first person to produce and photographically illustrated a book using cyanotypes as seen in fig 7. The process was also used extensively for copying architectural plans until it was made obsolete by photocopying and computer printers.
Sunprints in Art and Fashion
Most examples found on SolarFast or cyanotype being used on textile are such as in figure 9, t-shirt front prints, or figure 10 flat textile cloth. However one can find multiple examples of this technique within the field of art where for example Robert Rauschenberg repeatedly used it in his artworks, see figure 11. Angela Chalmers is an artist who used cyanotype to make negatives of garments as seen in figure 12. Many more art examples like these can be found, although there is not easy to find artist who’s main media is sunprints. It is even more difficult to find examples within in clothing or fashion when searching the internet. There are designers working with the expression of sunprints although they are more likely produced digitally as seen in fig 13. Most examples found is the white and blue cyanotype version while the wider range of colours made possible by Solarfast are a lot more rare.
The Novelty
When direct to garment print design is presented it is often on basic forms such as t-shirts or similarly flat garments, as showed in fig 3, 4, 5, 8, 9 and 10. This project on the other hand aim to challenge the surfaces and form on which a print design is commonly built by printing on more elaborate garments. The outcome of the technique is dependent on factors such as surrounding conditions, weather, how or what it is that is casting a shadow between the garment and the uv-light. What materials the chemical is being applied to and the specific form of this material. All of which this work will explore with the aim of transforming an old technique into something contemporary. Using a technique of which the prints outcome is spontaneous as it is dependent on so many different factors also presents newness in photographic prints as it is compared with the digital process where the exact outcome can be predicted before printing. This is the core of what creates the expected uniqueness of this work.
State of the Art
Engineered Print Design
With digital print technology came the possibility for advanced engineered print placements. A method that allows you to print within your flat garment pieces, this takes careful calculations and can make your print seeming seamless around the silhouette. During this process print and form are created in unity (Bowles and Isaac 2009, p.19) The placement print is so to speak developed to fit in a certain area of a garment and is often applied to a finished garment such as t-shirts. (Townsend 2003). British designer Mary Katrantzou has taken advantage of this technique and successfully created her own personal aesthetic based on digital prints. She is most famous for her photographic motifs as that shown in fig (?) often in relation to embellishments that emphasize the image. Katrantzou sometimes use the digital print technique for more graphic prints such as shown in fig (?), also carefully placed in relation to the garments form. The growing evolution of digital print technology has made it easy for everyone with knowledge of digital image editing to make their own artwork aimed for textile printing. In fact there are several companies that allow you to send in your digital file online and they will print it on fabric for you. The technique has a lot of advantages, for example it is fast produced, it has very little waste of color and it can deliver very detailed images in endless colors. However with a technique needing no actual craftsmanship it is hard to stand out from the crowd of designers working with this method. Perhaps that is a motivation to go back to more analoge techniques of creating print designs.
Print Steered Form
Emelie Johansson a fashion design student graduating in 2014 from the Swedish School of Textiles Investigated a range of classic print designs that she with the help of digital image manipulation distorted. This created an impression of movement within the print that was further enhanced by letting the form of the garment be created with the technique of draping. While Katrantzou carefully engineer her prints size and placement in relation to the garment form Jansson rather let the print distortion steer the shape of the garment.
Print and Voluminous Form
The Japanese brand Comme des Garçons is famous for their maximalistic designs that often feature both enormous silhouettes and expressively colorful prints within one and the same garment. It is easy to see where the seams are placed that a printed fabric has been used. An advantage of printing directly onto garment is the possibility to let the motif run over a seam and therefore not having to consider where to cut the pattern pieces to achieve a good balance between volume and print.
Experimental Print Developments
Camilla Arnbert, Surfaced print. Arnberts degreework from 2015 is a succesful example of the relation between print and surface. By using yarns that shrinks in the heat from the transferpress a traditional check pattern becomes something very expressive. This project clearly show that by twisting the hierarchial structure of print and form design new expressions can come to life.
Cyanotype Prints on Garments
Nayuko Yamamoto graduated from Central Saint Martins in 2014 where her degreework collection showed an example of cyanotype on fabric. Yamamotos work is using the same technique as this project will investigate although back in 2014 the Solarfast in multiple color choices did not exist but only the original blue cyanotype. Yamamoto appear to have printed on the fabric before making the garments and unlike this project is not considering irregular and voluminous surfaces.
To investigate uv-developed colour as a technique to create direct to garment print design in relation to irregular surfaces.
**AIM.**
**Motive**
**A Shift in Hierarchy**
In the book 'Print in fashion, design and development in fashion textiles', Marnie Fogg (2006) states that "The most obvious assumption is that the print comes before garment..." suggesting that print and garment often are viewed upon as two separate things, where print design and garment design are commonly not designed in relation to each other. Fogg continues "... but that is not always the case. Sometimes the print is the garment", proposing that the print itself sometimes takes over, with no consideration for the garment or surface which it is placed upon (Fogg 2006) Print design is often a profession separated from being a garment designer. Print is designed to be applied on a fabric that is later applied onto form. It can also be that form is designed and later considered to be made up in a certain printed fabric. By printing directly onto garment one could create a more obvious link between print and form.
**A Link Between Form and Print**
This project as oppose to the common process wants to approach print design as something produced directly onto form. It is therefore a print and form based project. Where both is dependent on each other in the development of the final expression. By building print onto irregular surfaces and elaborate shapes it opens up for new aesthetics within the field of fashion design. By building the print directly onto the form the hierarchy of print design and garment design is challenged and both print and form make equally important parts of the aesthetic outcome. The print become the print that it becomes because of the form and the form is created to achieve the best possible assumed outcome of the print. Form is built with careful consideration of lifting the unique strength of the print technique. How the form moves or is reorganized after the print is developed on it is also determined because of the print and its unpredictable emergence. By building prints directly onto garments more elaborate than a t-shirt one would already challenge the common procedure of printing on a flat fabric surface. By adding for example details such as buttoning, collars and belts as well as ruffle appliqués to the garments one would challenge it even further. These qualities in the garment also aims to prove that the print was made directly onto the garment as it will shade areas from becoming printed.
**New Possibilities**
Printing directly onto a garment opens up for carefully considered placements. By applying the method to garments that are voluminous or has irregular surfaces the possibility to work around the volume or on top of the irregularity appears. As oppose to when printing a flat fabric that is later turned into garment. In order to reach a similar result when printing a fabric it would take careful calculations on how the finished garments ruffles (etc.) fall and so to calculate exactly where to place the print, is likely not possible at all. Since the technique fixates colour everywhere uv-light reaches the surface it is also impossible to know exactly where this occurs and so a unpredictable print appears on the form. The technique will present new aesthetic expressions within the field of garment print design.
**Method**
**Experimental**
A common method within the design research field is that of being experimental. The term experimental means that something is “based on untested ideas or techniques and not yet established or finalized” (Oxford Dictionaries 2018). Experimental is within itself a very open and broad term and a method indicating how to experiment is often needed to limit the range of endless outcomes. In the book *Experimental design research: Genealogy - Intervention- Argument*, Brandt and Binder (2007) argues that the notions of program, experiments and questions are useful as methodological grounding for design research driven by experiments. They state that a design project often is initiated with a research question, which could be described as an aim and a context, which purpose is to frame the experimental progression.
This research is experimental for two reasons. Firstly it is challenging hierarchical structures within form and print design by printing directly onto garments. Secondly because it is using a technique borrowed from the field of photography and that has very little trace of being used within fashion. How this technique emerge is also very much dependent on the form and therefore print and form make equally important parts of the research.
**Circularity**
In the book *Design Methods* by John Chris Jones (1992) the author mentions that when dealing with new design it might be necessary to work with a circular method rather than a linear. Jones says that "Linearity implies that all the critical problems can be spotted at the start with little or no risk of having to write off large quantities of design effort at later stages". When a research uses an unfamiliar technique it becomes necessary that the method is flexible and able to leave major design decisions open in order to achieve good designs. Jones mentions that methodology often strive to be linear but says that "When applied to really new designs it removes the flexibility that is essential for dealing with the instabilities and circularities that have to be explored". Therefore this investigation has had a circular method allowing it to go back and forth between the stages of development.
---
**Specific Method**
Experiments in this project will be conducted through "trial and error", which is defined as “a finding out of the best way to reach a desired result or a correct solution by trying out one or more ways or means and by nothing and eliminating errors or causes of failure” (Merriam-Webster Dictionary, no date). The conducting of the design experiments in this project, is in Mäkelä’s (2007) sense “knowing-by-making”, as the knowledge cannot precede the making. The outcome cannot be thought out before-hand, but must be experienced, and through making the experiments and seeing the outcome new experiments can be made gaining from that experience.
Once the project gains enough experience of how the print technique works it will move to a basic design method, one that in the book *Artistic Development in [fashion] design* (C.Thornquist 2010) is called re-imagine. C.Thornquist describes the method as “Design development [towards controlled experiments]: Develop each of the different parts in the collection by sketching, trying out different alternatives of details, garments and outfits as well as overall arrangements”. The aim is to show of the techniques qualities as much as possible, therefore a range of materials that each will have different impacts of the print is used, as well as garment details that will contribute to proving that the print has been developed directly on to the garments is considered in the sketching. The advantage of using a technique that fixates with uv-light is that it doesn’t need to be limited to the parameters of the common equipment used for fixating a print on textile. Hence the line-up will consider common garment types based on the “wardrobe model” and garment archetypes in relation to irregular surfaces as a base for the sketch development in order to differentiate from garments that has been made from a previously printed textile.
The advantages of using a dye-technique that fixates in uv-light or sunlight is that there is no measure limits regarding irregularity in surface or volume of the garment that is to be printed. Therefore an early decision was to apply the technique onto garments of such qualities. So the project will on one hand focus on differentiating from prints created on fabric and on the other it will aim to clearly communicate that it is the garment that has been printed rather than the fabric, doing so by using irregularity in surface to strengthen the relation between form and print in the final expression.
How the Technique Works
1. A source generating uv-light.
2-3. Objects placed between light source and material to be printed.
4-7. The material that has been treated with light sensitive dye. Depending on the distance between the objects placed on top their shadows look harder (7) or softer (5). Areas that are in total shadow (6) remain its original colour. While the areas that are fully exposed (4) becomes the most darkened/coloured.
Making of garment canvas
The garment drenched in uv-sensitive dye and covered with material partly shading it and then exposed to sunlight.
Unpacked garment revealing a negative of the material put on top.
Finished printed garment after washing out undeveloped dye.
Development.
The Initial Steps
The project started with investigating possible techniques for creating a print with the Solarfast dye. The dye appears where the uv-light can reach, therefore a shadowprint appears where the light do not reach the canvas or where it reaches less colour develop in a lighter hue. The print is monochrome and in some cases 2 coloured, yet it is rich in variety within the specific colour.
After gaining enough knowledge of the chemical a sketching process started considering the different properties in the material that would affect the dye and print result. The form sketches also aimed to prove that the print happened on a garment and not on fabric, therefore details and material mixes was considered. Small prototypes in the different manipulations and material mixes was made and the print was tested.
Transparent garments was the initial method, the structure of the material and details such as seams, trimming and closures casted a shadow on the canvas and a negative of the garment appeared on the canvas.
Printing with fabrics
Semi-transparent fabrics such as lace, mesh and nets was used. The results were clear and detailed and therefore considered successful.
Clearfilm Experiments
Thirdly black and white images printed on clear film was tried out. The results was obvious photographic motifs but that due to condense between film and fabric was in some tests blurred. Clearfilm as a method for creating prints was considered harder to control than the initial methods using garments and fabrics yet successful as it clearly communicated the techniques properties. It was decided to use clearfilm as one of the methods for the final prints.
Clearfilm Experiments
Testing different types of motifs within the clear film print technique.
Objects such as glass, crystals, bottles and light bulbs was placed on top of the solar fast dyed fabrics but did not achieve as detailed motives as previous experiments and where less photographic in its outcome and therefore not developed further within this project.
Testing Different Material Qualities
At this stage the investigation had focused more on methods to create motifs than on the form to print on. It was an obvious move to start making fabric manipulations on which to print upon. The different qualities that solarfast works with was considered and manipulations appropriate to create irregular surfaces was made.
Colour Development
Form Development
After gaining enough knowledge of the chemical a sketching process started considering the different properties in the material that would affect the dye and print result. The form sketches also aimed to prove that the print happened on a garment and not on fabric, therefore details and material mixes was considered. Small prototypes in the different manipulations and material mixes was made and the print was tested.
An early decision to work with elements of recognition within the garments was based on several motives. One, the technique in itself is new enough to not be in need of an experimental form investigation. Two, to let the focus be on the prints relation to the form it was thought that an abstract approach to form would give the viewer too much to reflect upon, risking that the actual focus would come second, incorporating recognizability in the garments is preconceived to give the viewer some ease in what they are looking at and therefore create a better understanding of the directness of the print. Three, to take advantage of details in highly recognized garments that would lead to proving that the print was made directly onto the garments. Four, the form development was mainly created through sketching and using the idea of common garments in a "fashion wardrobe" was a foundation that could lead and also limit the sketching process. Five, materials related to these garments worked very well for presenting the diversity of the technique.
By building irregularities on existing garment types or challenging the traditional material of these the project presents updated and personal interpretations of recognizable garments.
Experiments of draping on a stand with ruffled pieces of fabric along with fabric manipulation try-outs has been the starting point. These have also been test printed onto. With those experiments as the base several sketches has been made to further develop the garments. Sketching from images of actual material in relation to full scale body is a way to be able to stay true to actual potential expressions when translating from sketch to garment. Eventually the full garment is constructed varying between flat construction draping/building on a stand, toiling and re-toiling.
First Garment Prototypes
When the garments is finished it is drenched in the "dye" with the help of a spray colour gun, a brush or a sponge while working in a room with no daylight (sunlight, uv-light). Once the colour component is applied everywhere it's desired the chosen print material is placed onto the garment to block sunlight. Everywhere this material is placed the dye does not fixate and so a print appears. By printing on irregular surfaces the print is broken up and presents a link between the form and the print. Irregularity is also a method to further take advantage of the fact that the technique does not need to be fixated in any other way than with sunlight.
As the project developed and garments were finalized, the line-up strategy changed as it was easier to match the garments, colors and motifs to achieve a cohesive result that would communicate the technique well.
Materials Used for the Final Print Designs
Development - First Look
Material - Bull Denim, Silk Satin, Silk Organza
In this look three garments are featured. Number one is a denim jacket, the details such as collars, front pocket, buttons, a gathered sleeve and fringes/raw edges is preconceived to have impact on the print. Underneath is a wrap-around spaghetti strap top made up in a shiny silk material and in the top layer of the front in organza. As organza is a see-through material it prints through the layers/ruffles.
It is matched with an asymmetrical circle cut skirt in a shiny silk material. The circle cut skirt has a similar expression as the ruffles and has a natural drape that overlaps itself. Therefore interruptions in the print occurred that in the final expression created a link between the form and the print.
Leather is chosen for the line-up as there are very few printing techniques that works with leather without leaving a coated surface. The sunlight developed dye used in this investigation works well with leather without interfering with the leathers natural qualities and is therefore an obvious choice for presenting the techniques uniqueness.
The chosen reference garment is a trench jacket which is rich in details. The collar, yoke, belt and double breasted buttoning will block the colour from appearing everywhere and by so create a link between the form and print. On the back a flower is printed on top of the overlapping yoke, a placement made possible by the ability to print directly onto an irregular surface.
The second garment is a jumpsuit with frill front appliqués, that together with a repetitive print communicates a link between form and print as the print is interrupted where ever the frill itself blocks parts from being reached by the light.
The bull denim was taken into consideration as a reference to a denim/jeans look. Another common garment type among the mass population. It differs from the cotton poplin that was used in look 1 because of its rigid surface and heaviness, it is also chosen because of its ability to fringe which creates another dimension of irregularity and contributes to a desire trashy aesthetic of the final line-up.
In this work “the jeans” has been interpreted as a wide long fitted trouser with a dramatic application of the ruffles along the lower leg. Details such as front seams, darts, pockets and fly also contributes to underlining the direct to garment printing.
The denim trouser is matched up with a traditional t-shirt, on one hand because it is a common combo and one the other to show that simplicity is also an option for this technique. The front logo is to reference back to the garments often seen with the other direct to garment printing techniques and to further place the work in a contemporary context.
Print Samples
Material used for printing
Digital sketch
Result
A material that worked really well to print upon was the cotton poplin. Its a tightly woven natural fibre material that would produce well saturated and clear prints. It is also connected to the classic shirt which was considered a suitable garment for the aim because of its details such as buttoning, collar and cuffs.
The decision to combine the shirt with ruffles was to create a contrast between the very structure flat surface and the voluminous ruffles that together is creating a very irregular surface to print upon. Having the flat surface and the irregular incorporated in the same garment also communicates a movement within the print as it moves from organized to scattered.
The ruffles is a reoccurring feature throughout the line-up firstly because of its irregularity, depth, movement and overlapping qualities that beneficially works with the techniques ability to be applied onto voluminous surfaces. Secondly because this creates a close link between the form and the print, seeing as the print only appears where the uv-light can reach. Therefore irregular surfaces strengthen the expression of direct to garment printing.
After making a successful printing on leather in look number 2, it was decided to repeat leather as a material for the final line-up but scaling up the print to present a more obvious print motif.
The trench vest is used as a garment reference and the collar and yoke from jacket in look nr 2 is repeated. In this look a frill at the bottom part of vest is incorporated as to add another layer of irregularity. The Collar, belt, front panel and yoke as well as the overlapping fronts all contribute to irregularity to differ the work from prints created on flat fabric.
The vest is matched up with a lace pants and top set, in the same lace that has been used for the print. Gathered fronts on the pants creates an irregular surface.
This look is based on the pants suit, a more formal approach to the concept but that was made up in a silk organza material giving the garment a more poetic expression as the sheerness creates a contrast to the formality of the suit. The interest to work with the suit lies in its details, the collar, pockets and double breasted buttoning all shades parts from being reached by the uv-light.
The decision to work with a transparent material is one on hand to present diversity in the line-up but most importantly because it was discovered that the uv-light will reach beyond the first layer of transparent material and so also create a print on the layer beneath, only a less saturated one. This led to incorporate the ruffles in the pants.
Print Samples
Digital sketch
Material used for printing
The maxi skirt was chosen as part of the line up to give the opportunity to once more work with high volume and a big canvas to place the motifs on. In this final look the decision to mix material qualities was made based on it being an advantage of the technique to be able to print beyond the boundaries of a single material at the time as in the common print processes. The materials used all ties back to the previous garments.
The skirt is matched with a long sleeve cotton jersey top that has been printed from the sides and features the logo print on the sleeves. The decision of matching it with a jersey top is to give the look less of an evening aesthetic and so place it further in a contemporary context.
Print Samples
Material used for printing
Digital sketch
LOOK 1
"The Denim Jacket and Skirt"
Look 3 - Hairy knitted material
A material with a surface that is lose will move and therefore the prints appearance is impossible to predict and will likely become abstract.
Result.
LOOK 2
"The Leather Jacket & Jumpsuit"
Look 4 - Leather
Few techniques allow printing on leather without leaving a coated surface, therefore the material is taken into the line up. The jacket's details will underline that the print was created directly onto the garment. As for the pants it is once more the frills that will break up the pattern and indicating that the print was made directly to the garment.
LOOK 3
"The Denim’s & T-shirt"
Look 2 - Cotton bull denim in white
Using a denim the aim was to reach beyond the regular jeans form but to still take in features related to it.
Ruffles was applied onto the leg in tight rows which gave a standing ruffled surface. The edges was left raw to give a natural threaded appearance that would affect the print result. Besides the ruffles, buttons, a fly and back pockets will prove that the print was created directly onto the garment. The look is completed with a basic jersey t-shirt to communicate the possible simplicity of the technique.
Result.
LOOK 4
"The Shirt"
Look 1 - Cotton Poplin
The first look presents a shirt base with multiple layers of frills building volume onto the shirt. A net fabric and flowers printed on clear film has been used to create a print. The mix of plain surface and irregular surface is important within this look as it lets the print go from very structured to broken up and only emerging at parts of the ruffles. This reflects a link between the form and the final expression of the print.
The net structure is chosen because it contributes to a movement in surface and is a repeated print that is easily followed as it goes from the flat area to the ruffled. The flowers as a motif is chosen for its photographical qualities which is unique for this method comparing it to airbrushing or painting techniques.
LOOK 5
"The Trench Vest and Matching Set"
Look 6 - Voluminous knitted ruffles in white
This look aimed to prove the print method possible to print on a very voluminous form, something far from the traditional method of creating prints in fashion that is on a fabric that is later made into garment. A net fabric has been used to create the print. The jacket is matched with a silk dress to balance the heaviness of the jacket.
Result.
LOOK 6
"The Pants Suit"
Transparent organza
LOOK 7
"The Maxi Skirt"
Look 7 - Multi-mixed materials
In the final look a voluminous frill skirt containing multiple materials tying back to the previous looks is presented. By mixing alot of materials within the same look it will be clear that the print has been made directly onto the garment. The final look will also present a mixing of the hues.
Brand: Elin Holm
Season: Spring 2019
Collection: Printograms
Style name: Leather Rose Jacket
Style no: 19-03
Sample size: S/M
List of Materials
Outer/Main Genuine Leather "Milk"
Belt Genuine Leather "Milk"
Belt Details Metal "vintage silver"
Lining Viscose
Pockets Viscose
Measurements (cm):
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Front</th>
<th>Back</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A</td>
<td>B</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Full Length</td>
<td>Sleeve opening</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>B</td>
<td>C</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Waist Width</td>
<td>Hem Width</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>C</td>
<td>D</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Hem Width</td>
<td>Sleeve at Seam</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>D</td>
<td>E</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Sleeve at Seam</td>
<td>Bicep</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>E</td>
<td>F</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bicep</td>
<td>G</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>F</td>
<td>H</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Sleeve opening</td>
<td>Collar C.B.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>G</td>
<td>I</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Collar C.B.</td>
<td>Fold Width</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>H</td>
<td>J</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Fold opening</td>
<td>Back Width</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>I</td>
<td>K</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Back Width</td>
<td>Belt Loop</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>J</td>
<td>L</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Belt Loop</td>
<td>Belt width</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Brand: Elin Holm
Season: Spring 2019
Collection: Printograms
Style name: Leather Frill Jumpsuit
Style no: 19-02
Sample size: S
List of Materials
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Outer</th>
<th>Genuine Leather “Milk”</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Frills</td>
<td>Genuine Leather “Milk”</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Lining</td>
<td>Viscose</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Pockets</td>
<td>Viscose</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Waist Flap</td>
<td>Genuine Leather “Milk”</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Waist Closure</td>
<td>Metal (clear silver coloured)</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Measurements (cm):
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Front</th>
<th>Back</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A Waist Width</td>
<td>J Back Strap</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>B Cleavage</td>
<td>K Strap Width</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>C Outer leg seam</td>
<td>L Back Rise</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>D Pocket opening</td>
<td>M Inner leg seam</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>E Frill 1</td>
<td>N Strap length</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>F Frill 2</td>
<td>O Strap width</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>G Frill 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>H Frill 4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>I Hem width</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Brand: Elin Holm
Season: Spring 2019
Collection: Printograms
Style name: Denim Frill Pants
Style no: 19-01
Sample size: S
List of Materials
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Pants/Outer</th>
<th>Cotton Bull Denim</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Frills</td>
<td>Cotton Bull Denim</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Cotton Poplin</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Pockets</td>
<td>Cotton Bull Denim</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Fly + Shield</td>
<td>Cotton Bull Denim</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Button</td>
<td>Metal (clear silver coloured)</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Measurements (cm):
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th></th>
<th>Front</th>
<th>Back</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A</td>
<td>Full Length</td>
<td>140</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>B</td>
<td>Waist Width</td>
<td>37</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>C</td>
<td>Front Rise</td>
<td>24</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>D</td>
<td>Waist Band</td>
<td>4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>E</td>
<td>Slit opening</td>
<td>45</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>F</td>
<td>Pocket depth</td>
<td>16</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>G</td>
<td>Pocket width</td>
<td>14</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>H</td>
<td>Frill Length</td>
<td>Random mixed measurements</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>I</td>
<td>Frill width</td>
<td>Random mixed measurements</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Discussion and Reflection.
There has been two main focuses in the development of this work. Number one has been to communicate the unique qualities of an old technique into something that could be seen as contemporary. The other has been to take advantage of the technique’s ability to fixate in open air daylight as a technique for direct to garment printing and by so challenge the hierarchical structure of the traditional print contra form process. In the common process the print is made on a regular, flat or relatively flat fabric, therefore it has been of importance in this work to create irregular surfaces to clearly differentiate from the printed fabric by creating irregularity within the garment’s details. This method also creates a clear relation between the print and the form. Where the print emerge is dependent on the form and the form is created to have impact on the print. A surface that has several levels, depth or movement will cast a shadow at other parts of the surface and therefore these kind of structures is relevant to the project. This was predicted to strengthen the expression that the print has been created directly onto the garment and link the final expression of the print placements to the specific form. Hence this work is to be seen as a print and form based research that is proposing new techniques for printing in the field of fashion.
Seeing as the outcome of the print technique is dependent on many exterior factors it creates spontaneous print results and lowers the possibility to re-produce the exact same print twice. Therefore, looking at it from a commercial perspective it would be suitable as a design process for developing prints that would later be produced digitally. The technique could be used to print a prototype that later would be taken apart and then copied as flat pieces that could be re-produced digitally. As the outcome is spontaneous and decided by current exterior factors such as weather conditions it is unlikely that the same expression could be achieved if the print itself would be created digitally from the beginning.
Alternatively one could build a brand on the individuality that this technique represents, by selling garments as unique pieces. The print technique itself has strong expressive characteristics and can serve as a unique addition along side the common techniques.
The chemical used in the process has no significant side effects on its environment and very little water or energy is needed in the development. Therefore it can be considered a sustainable alternative.
List of references:
Townsend, K. (2003) Transforming Shape: A simultaneous approach to the body, cloth and print for textile and garment design(synthesising CAD with manual methods). Nottingham Trent University
Image references
The Iconic Flower by Rebecca Karlsson
Aim of work: To use the deconstruction of the iconic flower prints to investigate the relation between form, print and the body through volume padding and draping to achieve new expressions in dress.
Concept: Rebecca has a clear and straightforward concept where she aims to deconstruct the iconic flower print through material manipulations. This method of working creates an successful and interesting link between print design and form design which is a motivation for the designer. By printing flowers on flat fabrics and then following the lines within the flowers to create material manipulations with the use of elastic drawstrings and padding form has been created simultaneously as the print has been manipulated. In look 1, 2 and 6 this has been very successful as one can see the flower print evolving into something more abstract. Though in some of the examples it is harder to see the flower print in the result and perhaps the looks would have benefit from not having the manipulations of the prints made already within the print making. I would suggest that also in look 3, 4 and 5 the designer could have worked with more straightforward flowers and later only manipulated parts of the material.
Composition:
Since the project has worked with transfer printing polyester fibres has been essential. A good variety of materials has been chosen although I would suggest that a more transparent or lighter material could have been suggested as it would perhaps reach another dimension of form within the line-up. The method overall presents a quite compact result except in look number 5 which is more draped. Maybe the final result could have presented a look where only parts is manipulated also without the padding as in look number 3. The padding is an interesting feature in the final result as it communicates a different shape than the ones using only drawstring.
Prints: The flower prints used in this work are beautifully composed. The iconic flower print as the designer suggest is most obvious in looks 1, 2 6 and 7. Maybe they could have been even more clear in the rest of the looks. The project has worked very compelling with colours. However, since the projects work with a gradually evolving shape, it would be suggested that also the colours could be gradually changing from first look to last look to emphasize the evolving of the de-construction of the print from the photographic flower print into the sketched iconic flower print.
Suggestion for changes: Finally it would be suggested that look number 3 and 4 would be changed. Where the project would benefit from working with manipulating the print and the form similarly to look number 1 and 2. Where the print is manipulated through materials manipulations rather than digital print manipulations. |
The framing of scientific domains
Christensen, Hans Dam
Published in:
Journal of Documentation
DOI:
10.1108/JD-03-2013-0038
Publication date:
2014
Document Version
Publisher's PDF, also known as Version of record
Citation for published version (APA):
The framing of scientific domains: about UNISIST, domain analysis and art history
Dam Christensen Hans
Article information:
To cite this document:
Dam Christensen Hans, (2014), "The framing of scientific domains: about UNISIST, domain analysis and art history",
Journal of Documentation, Vol. 70 Iss 2 pp. 261 - 281
Permanent link to this document:
http://dx.doi.org/10.1108/JD-03-2013-0038
Downloaded on: 31 August 2014, At: 03:38 (PT)
References: this document contains references to 30 other documents.
To copy this document: permissions@emeraldinsight.com
The fulltext of this document has been downloaded 153 times since 2014*
Access to this document was granted through an Emerald subscription provided by 556869 []
For Authors
If you would like to write for this, or any other Emerald publication, then please use our Emerald for Authors service information about how to choose which publication to write for and submission guidelines are available for all. Please visit www.emeraldinsight.com/authors for more information.
About Emerald www.emeraldinsight.com
Emerald is a global publisher linking research and practice to the benefit of society. The company manages a portfolio of more than 290 journals and over 2,350 books and book series volumes, as well as providing an extensive range of online products and additional customer resources and services.
Emerald is both COUNTER 4 and TRANSFER compliant. The organization is a partner of the Committee on Publication Ethics (COPE) and also works with Portico and the LOCKSS initiative for digital archive preservation.
*Related content and download information correct at time of download.
The framing of scientific domains: about UNISIST, domain analysis and art history
Hans Dam Christensen
Royal School of Library and Information Science, Copenhagen, Denmark
Abstract
Purpose – By using the UNISIST models this paper argues for the necessity of domain analysis in order to qualify scientific information seeking. The models allow better understanding of communication processes in a scientific domain and they embrace the point that domains are always both unstable over time, and changeable, according to the specific perspective. This understanding is even more important today as numerous digitally generated information tools as well as collaborative and interdisciplinary research are blurring the domain borders. Nevertheless, researchers navigate “intuitively” in “their” specific domains, and UNISIST helps understanding this navigation. The paper aims to discuss these issues.
Design/methodology/approach – The UNISIST models are tentatively applied to the domain of art history at three stages, respectively two modern, partially overlapping domains, as well as an outline of an art historical domain anno c1820. The juxtapositions are discussed against the backdrop of, among others, poststructuralist concepts such as “power” and “anti-essentialism”
Findings – The juxtapositions affirm the point already surfacing in the different versions of the UNISIST model, that is, structures of communication change over time as well as according to the agents that are charting them. As such, power in a Foucauldian sense is unavoidable in outlining a domain.
Originality/value – The UNISIST models are applied to the domain of art history and the article discusses the instability of a scientific domain as well as, at the same time, the significance of framing a domain; an implication which is often neglected in scientific information seeking.
Keywords Foucault, Art history, Domain analysis, Høyen, UNISIST
Paper type Research paper
The relationship between general and domain-specific expertise in scientific information seeking is complex. Time and again, experienced researchers might not have felt that they needed a general guide in information seeking from information specialists. Today, there is no doubt, however, that both general and professional search skills are very useful, not least in order to navigate among the numerous digitally generated opportunities that, for several years now, have relocated the researcher’s information seeking from the physical and often domain-specific library environment to a ubiquitous laptop or tablet screen.
It is not just about handling the specific searches, but also managing the derived bibliographical data, citations, reference works, and so on. Available digital tools – often produced by the same companies that develop and control search systems, databases and even journals – help the researcher or librarian to master this information at a general level. The same tools are also able to provide bibliometric assistance in the form of Journal Impact Factor, Hirsch Index, and so forth, which, in certain domains in particular, are used as assessment controls of the search results.
Nevertheless, this article argues for the continued requirement of domain-specific competencies in order to qualify scientific information seeking, and, *per se*, it also argues for the necessity of domain analysis. The argument, however, does not hold that only domain-specific researchers are capable of conducting a qualified search. Even among these, one only rarely finds a comprehensive overview of the domain in question. Moreover, with increasing emphasis on trans- and interdisciplinarity as well as collaborative research a delimited domain is becoming more and more difficult to define. Instead, the argument, with the help of the so-called UNISIST model, is that the domain-specific researchers (domain specialists and professional information specialists) need to understand the communication processes in a relatively framed or situated scientific domain in order to better the information seeking processes. A framed or situated domain is a domain which is both unstable over time (a diachronic point-of-view) and changeable according to the specific perspective (a synchronic point-of-view). As this article is going to argue, the original UNISIST model (and derivatives) can embrace a specific understanding of a field which includes knowledge of and experience with epistemological and institutional aspects as well as – in a pell-mell – different social agents and actants, publishers, preferred publication channels, a variety of databases, archives and libraries, researchers, librarians and much more. In fact, the model is capable of unifying epistemological (and ontological), institutional and sociological layers. This could sound like a diffuse approach to domain analysis (or, for that sake, systematic information seeking), but on the other hand, in reality a scientific domain is a very diffuse phenomenon. It is possible to define an art history domain in terms of, for example, the 84 journals that are indexed in the Web of Science’s Arts & Humanities Citation Index by the research area “Art”, but numerous journals are also allocated to other areas. In addition, all the indexed journals in “Art” are not, literally speaking, “research journals”; for example, the upper ten “source titles” by record count includes only one journal with peer review articles. This definition is also reductive because it is not sensible for domain-specific publishing channels, such as the museum catalogue, the exhibition, the “coffee table book”, and so forth. Other aspects could dominate the definition with the same reductionism, for example, a key focus on institutional settings such as departments of art history at universities, art museums, art historians’ organizations, art criticism, image archives, publishing houses, and so on. Still, the institutional borders are vague, as – due to, for example, both epistemological paradigms and departmental mergers – university departments can carry different names across institutions and national borders (e.g. *Kunstgeschichte* or *Kunstwissenschaft*, or Art History and Theory, Art and Art History, Art History and Archeology, Art History, Film and Visual Studies, Art History and Visual Culture, Art and Visual Studies, Fine Arts, etc.); the distinction between the departments of, on the one side, archeology and art history, and, on the other side, art history and visual studies (or visual culture studies) points toward rather different domains. From a more specific epistemological point-of-view, several theoretical approaches and objects of study can be at play simultaneously, that is, the work of art is not the only object of study, the artist is another, the institution of art a third, art theory a fourth and so on; in addition, an abundance of partly overlapping approaches is possible, for example, style analysis, reception theory, social history, psychoanalysis, iconography, semiotics, gender studies, queer theory, to mention just a few. The advantage of the UNISIST model is not its capacity to record all these layers
such a recording would be futile – but it provides a template in order to take a
snapshot of a (situated) domain in terms of any parameters the researcher or
information specialist would like to use in his mapping.
The UNISIST model has previously been debated by information scientists, and, in
continuation of these discussions, this article suggests an extended theoretical
applicability and revision (Fjordback Søndergaard et al., 2003; Fjordback Søndergaard
et al., 2005; Dam Christensen, 2007a). Other models of scientific communication could
have been taken into account (e.g. Garvey and Griffith, 1965; Hurd, 2000; Bjørk, 2007;
Tabak and Wilson, 2012), but from the perspective of this author they do not offer the
same opportunity to demarcate a scientific domain in terms of the above-mentioned
“situated domain”.
In the end, the aim of this article is twofold: first, the UNISIST model will be
tentatively applied to a well-established scholarly domain, art history, at different
stages of its disciplinary life. Next, this case constitutes the background for a broader
discussion on domain-specificity because, as the case will show, communication
structures change over time and according to points-of-view. This conclusion is not
brand new, but the following strongly emphasizes the instability of a scientific domain
as well as, at the same time, the significance of framing a domain. This implies that the
person knowingly or unknowingly mapping a domain is an active player in framing
the underlying theoretical and epistemological conflicts of the domain in question. If
these points are going to be summarized in brief from an epistemological point-of-view,
post-structuralist “anti-essentialism” comes to mind as the domain is conceptualized
without any core of unchangeable and transhistorical elements. In everyday practice, it
might seem that the domain is constant and solid, but it is a theoretically framed unit
or field outlining a socially constructed phenomenon, for example, “art history”, a
collective name for a myriad of changeable discourses and practices. The domain more
often than not is perceived as stable and real by its members, but, to put it bluntly, each
member has his perception of the field, and adjustments and reproductions take place
all the time by way of the members. Each member, knowingly or unknowingly,
communicates his specific perception in an ongoing performative process, in which
agency of the individual and structures of the field intertwine and adjust in several
ways. For the sake of clarity, it should be noted that, in line with this
“anti-essentialism”, each perception is, in a general sense, shaped by way of the
mechanisms of, for example, “interpellation” (Althusser, 1970), “habitus” (Bourdieu,
1979) or “subjectification” (Foucault, 1983).
Thus, power relations are unavoidable. However, “power” should not be considered
a “negative” notion in terms of a controlling and ruling part on the one side and a
defeated or weak part on the other. Instead, “power” is present in all social relations
because these relations are open to affirmation, effect and change. With the help of the
French historian of ideas, Michel Foucault (1926–1984), concepts such as “disciplinary
power” and “normalization” can be studied in discursive formations and practices of,
for example, art history. In particular, “knowledge” is an interesting focus point
because it is produced by mechanisms of power, according to Foucault. So, ideas of the
world are reflected by the ways knowledge is produced and disseminated, and these
ways regulate the subjects who are exposed to or interpellated by them; that is, the
individual sense of identity constituted through the discourses is an expression of
power relations. In the terminology of Foucault, knowledge and knowledge
dissemination represent “a dispositive”, that is, an apparatus of various institutional,
physical, and administrative mechanisms as well as knowledge structures that
enhance and preserve the exercise of power in social relations:
What I’m trying to pick out with this term is, firstly, a thoroughly heterogeneous ensemble
consisting of discourses, institutions, architectural forms, regulatory decisions, laws,
administrative measures, scientific statements, philosophical, moral and philanthropic
propositions – in short, the said as much as the unsaid. Such are the elements of the
apparatus. The apparatus itself is the system of relations that can be established between
these elements (Foucault, 1977).
Power is present at an institutional level, a sociological level as well as an
epistemological level; together with other overlapping as well as incongruent levels
they make up a “thoroughly heterogeneous ensemble”. As the following examples will
show, it is going to be even more important to know about the researcher in terms of
his own understanding of location in the institutional and epistemological landscape of
the domain in question when he, for example, is about to pursue information. This is
further stressed by the fact that scientific information seeking often takes place in an
informal way; that is, information seeking does not need to be conducted according to
well-organized librarian practices (see for example Talja, 2002). As an expression of
social behavior, this informal information seeking, potentially, is an easy target for a
Foucauldian analysis.
In that which follows, the history and content of the UNISIST model are
summarized; next, the model is tentatively applied to the art history domain at three
stages, respectively two modern, partially overlapping domains (that is, a synchronic
point-of-view), as well as an outline of an art historical domain anno c1820 (that is, a
diachronic point-of-view). The different sketches are not examined in detail but
compared at a general level. In conclusion, the article aims to discuss the theoretical
implications of these juxtapositions in order to give grounds for the continuing
relevance of the UNISIST model and its domain-specific implications. Thus, the
juxtapositions are going to affirm the aforementioned point already surfacing in the
different versions of the UNISIST model, that is, structures of communication change
over time as well as according to the agents that are charting them.
UNISIST on the road
Under the auspices of UNESCO, the UNISIST model was introduced back in 1971 as a
model of communication structures inside a scientific domain. As the expanded
acronym specifies, United Nations Information System in Science and Technology, the
model aimed to improve communication in the “hard” sciences (UNISIST, 1971). Over
time, it has been revised in order to include the structures of “soft” sciences.
The UNISIST model and its derivatives can be conceived as a map of the structures
and practices that connect the producers of knowledge with the users of knowledge.
The user is a person who needs a document for one reason or another, perhaps in order
to become a producer of a scientific article. Thus, the matter is about creating an
overview of the possible relations between producer and user in order to optimize his
search. However, a domain is also a social system which, in addition to producers and
users, includes information specialists. Moreover, the domain includes a variety of
institutions, for example, universities, publishing houses and libraries, and a range of
technologies interacts with agents and other actants; for example, access to search
tools and bases is a necessity, and understanding how to use them is, of course, compulsory. The agents of the domain in question conduct activities such as writing, publishing, storing and retrieving documents. This takes place in formal as well as informal ways, and it is done in different types of documents, for example – in yet another pell-mell – articles, monographs, reviews, proceedings, bibliographies and catalogues, dictionaries, manuals and handbooks, encyclopedias, thesauri, and review articles; access to physical as well as virtual libraries, bibliometric indicators, log-ins, passwords, private search bases, internet connections, and so on, can also have an impact on information seeking behavior and activity. Among all these positions, sites, locations, and tools, grids of overlapping, diverging and converging communication structures emerge through the domain analysis.
On closer inspection, the first model from 1971 (Figure 1) has the producer as the instigator. He produces knowledge that can be distributed through three channels: the informal channel; the formal channel; and the tabular channel. Informal communication mainly occurs in the shape of lectures and conference papers, which can result in contributions to journals, either because the oral presentation is a preprint of an article or because the ideas behind it eventually transform into an article. Formal communication takes place by way of either published or unpublished documents, at this time physical documents. The first-mentioned journey is via publishers and editors through libraries, information centers and abstracting and indexing services (which themselves can be materialized and accessible as published documents, e.g. printed bibliographies, or are just present as a document in the single library, which has created them for its own use). During the flow, the documents are recorded and interpreted in different ways in order to expose them to potential users. In 1971, this exposure was often missing in terms of the unpublished documents. Until the emergence of the internet and computers, these documents included the majority of PhD dissertations, research reports, technical reports and governmental reports printed in limited editions. Information centers and clearing houses could hold important information on these publications. The last channel, the tabular channel, consists of the mining of raw and unprocessed data and information, eventually published in the shape of statistical yearbooks (see Figure 1).
In short, selection, production and distribution of scientific information are the primary sources in the UNISIST model. In addition, the model includes secondary and tertiary sources. At the second level, recording and abstracting of the primary sources take place in order to retrieve and document the texts. Thus, this level comprises subject catalogues, citation indexes and library catalogues, which is the reason that abstract and indexing services, libraries, information centers, clearing houses and datacenters are found at this level. At the third level, handbooks, encyclopedias and reviews, for example, consolidate, collect and synthesize the primary sources.
In the revised UNISIST model, dated 2003 (Figure 2), the dotted line more or less encircling the model symbolizes the osmotic boundary of a domain. Thus, the dotted line indicates that the same library services and institutions can work within different domains. In addition, the arrows referring to the import and export of knowledge in the field should be noted. Some disciplines develop information and knowledge from within, for example, mathematics, economics and psychology, whereas other domains import knowledge and information. In the presentation of the revised model, more attention is further devoted to the possibility of dissimilar structures in different
domains, for example, characterized by way of diverse types of documents, as well as the interaction and exchange of knowledge and information among them. Further, different epistemologies accentuate various aspects of the domain and the privileged scientific objects of the domain shape the communication structures (Fjordback Sondergaard et al., 2003).
Finally, the gray box representing the appearance of the effect of the internet on scientific communication is, of course, worth noting. In fact, the internet in particular launched new opportunities in the revised UNISIST model. For example, it introduced elements such as “e-journals”, “online journals” and “e-libraries”. In addition, internet-based communication expanded the gray area between formal and informal.
communication by way of the so-called “usenet news” and “electronic meetings”. Informal communication now includes, for example, emails and list servers, which can be instrumental in delimiting disciplinary communities. Nowadays, researcher’s blogs, research communities on Facebook, Skype meetings, electronic conference proceedings, e-learning environments and e-conferences, print-on-demand publishing, research infrastructures, and so forth further expand this gray area. In fact, in a further revised UNISIST model, dating 2013, the gray color would probably cover almost the entire model.
A closer look at preprints can exemplify the impact of the internet and the enlargement of the gray area today. As is well known, researchers eventually upload papers on personal or institutional websites inviting comments, questions, observations, and so on, before submission. Preprints are also uploaded by research journals in order to speed up the release process. The single researcher can also restrict himself to uploading the article or conference paper on his personal website as a draft that eventually becomes an academic article; or he can do it just as a consequence of slow review procedures if he wants his research to become public as fast as possible. In this way, the implications of the gray area increase because the scientific assessment procedures, peer reviews, double blind reviews, editorial proof reading, and so forth, are absent. Indirectly, access to this material can be regulated by the open access policy of each journal and the stance toward repositories of the research institutions.
In order to navigate in this area, the information seeker has to use his “intuition” with regard to the scientific value of the document in question. The inverted commas indicate that this “intuition” is a learned, not an innate response; it depends on the person’s overview of his specific domain, his disciplinary training, his network, his field of study, and so on. In some situations, this “intuition” is supported or even replaced by information tools and techniques such as infometrics, bibliometrics, scientometrics and/or webometrics, which have given rise to phenomena such as co-citation analysis, Journal Impact Factor, Hirsch Index, G-index, Journal Crown Indicators, and so on. Paradoxically, these phenomena are heavily dependent on computers and the internet, which, at the same time, are expanding the gray area for scientific communication. This area demands other tools and methods, for example knowledge of the epistemological and institutional settings of the domain in question. In fact, applying the information tools and techniques at a sufficiently skilled level demands a specific knowledge of the domain in question. One can even insinuate that the indicators are futile in many “soft” domains because the communication structures here are lacking in the systematic structures and disciplinary unification required by the indicators.
Modern domains of art history
Figures 3 and 4 are general outlines of two modern art history domains with take-offs in respectively the original and the revised UNISIST model. This is so because they respectively depict the domain before and after the spreading of the internet. Two study programs for art history at the University of Copenhagen, Denmark, correspondingly from 1968 and 2000, form the basis; the keywords in the upper right box are imports from the curriculums and operate at a very general level as epistemological settings for the remaining content. The keywords derived from the 1968 curriculum refer to “the traditionalist paradigms” of art history (e.g. “cultural
history”, “iconography”, “style analysis”, cf. Ørom, 2003) and the keywords from the 2000 curriculum refer to the so-called “New Art History” (for a closer discussion, see Dam Christensen, 2007b). For the sake of clarity, it is a mapping of a predominantly Danish art history, but, as a closer look reveals, a national limited discipline is
impossible, even in a general outline such as this. Conversely, the idea of mapping an utterly “international art history” seems pointless; the discipline of “art history”, its discourses and practices, even its objects of study, vary over time as well as between cultures and states (Elkins, 2007). Nor is it of vital importance whether the primary
object of study is “Art from the Danish Golden Age” or “Art from the European Renaissance” – a closer look at the one or the other from a micro-perspective would probably create a fine mesh net of communication structures (and undoubtedly give the impression of more stability as well), but simultaneously weaken the outlines as general examples, that is, “thoroughly heterogeneous ensembles”.
So, without too much dwelling on details, both outlines reflect almost synchronically two art history domains which jointly define a fully grown science. Several boxes overlap, for example, the institutions replacing abstracting and indexing services, and unpublished thesis and reports from the original UNISIST model in Figures 1 and 2, while other aspects differ substantially, for example, titles on important journals and publishers, special bibliographies, translations, handbooks, and so on. That is, the two versions are very alike in terms of institutions, at least the institutions from the 1968 outline are repeated in the 2000 outline, whereas publications, which noticeably faster than institutions indicate epistemological changes, differ; of course, the development in media usage indicates another substantial discrepancy at the institutional level. Thus, the keywords from the two curriculums in the upper right boxes reflect two very different perceptions of art history, which, however, exist side-by-side and partly overlap.
Do art historians from each domain meet one another? Probably, they gather at big conferences as well as in other institutional settings, for example libraries and archives, but even though they read the same journals, it is more than likely that they do not publish together. In a Danish context, the annual journal of the National Gallery of Art, Kunstmuseets Årsskrift, and the university based journal Periskop. Forum for kunsthistorisk debat represent two very different epistemological views from the 1990s, where corresponding authors were the exception that proved the rule. It should be noted that this postulate as well as the outlines in the aforementioned figures are guided by this author’s insider knowledge and experience as well as his research into the history of art history; that is, in line with the anti-essentialist shaping of each member’s perception of the field, the postulate and the sketches are, of course, shaped by, for example, the author’s disciplinary socialization, his choice of specialization, his theoretical dispositions, and so forth. However, at this very general level, most experienced researchers possess corresponding insider or “innate” knowledge on their respective scientific domains, even though they have not given words to this knowledge. It is a matter of, for example, experience with differences among journals as well as researchers in the domain in terms of specialization, objects of studies, and the epistemologies and philosophies of science.
A few simple figures can, however, support the above-mentioned assertion. Apollo, Art History, Burlington Magazine and Journal of Visual Culture are four international journals with a predominantly British touch. By way of the Web of Knowledge’s Arts & Humanities Citation Index it is possible to examine the number of authors who have published in more than one of the journals, for example in the period 2002-2010 (Figure 5). The assumption is of course that a scholar prefers to publish his research in a relevant journal in terms of epistemologies, subject matter, attentive readers, and so on. Thus, for an experienced art historian, it should not be surprising that:
- in the pool of 224 authors (1,480 “articles” in total) contributing to the journals Apollo and Burlington Magazine with more than one article in this period, 60 have published in both journals;
in the pool of 37 authors (437 “articles” in total) contributing to the journals *Art History* and *Journal of Visual Culture* with more than one article, ten have published in both journals;
in the pool of 121 authors (1,112 “articles” in total) contributing to the journals *Apollo* and *Art History* with more than one article in this period, only six have published in both journals;
in the pool of 131 authors (860 “articles” in total) contributing to the journals *Art History* and *Burlington Magazine* with more than one article in this period, only six have published in both journals;
in the pool of 127 authors (805 articles in total) contributing to the journals *Burlington Magazine* and *Journal of Visual Culture* with more than one article in this period, no one has published in both journals; and
in the pool of 117 authors (1,057 articles in total) contributing to the journals *Apollo* and *Journal of Visual Culture* with more than one article in this period, again, no one has published in both journals.
Relatively speaking, *Apollo* and *Burlington Magazine* on the one side and *Art History* and *Journal of Visual Culture* on the other, respectively share a large pool of joint authors, whereas the connections between the two sides are restrained with *Journal of Visual Culture* at the extreme pole. Authors from *Apollo* and *Burlington Magazine* occasionally publish in *Art History* (or vice versa), but not in *Journal of Visual Culture*, whereas the number of joint authors between *Art History* and *Journal of Visual Culture* is high.
The simple explanation could be that *Burlington Magazine*, founded in 1903, and *Apollo*, founded in 1925, are traditional-bound journals that correspond to the keywords of the 1968 curriculum and, as such, are the places in which to find studies
on iconography, attribution and style. In contrast, *Art History*, founded in 1978 – among other things as a reaction to the implicit epistemology of *Burlington Magazine* and alongside the development of the so-called “New Art History” (Elkins, 1997) – is a journal corresponding foremost to the keywords of the newer curriculum. It is published by the British Association of Art Historians which may explain the number of joint authors with *Apollo* and *Burlington Magazine. Journal of Visual Culture*, which also corresponds to the 2000 curriculum, was founded in 2002 as a consequence of the emerging visual culture studies in the 1990s, among other things originating from the aforementioned “New Art History” (Elkins, 2003) which explains the number of joint authors with *Art History*.
The cleavage can be viewed from yet another angle, which, however, points back to the same difference between the above-mentioned journals and study programs, even though it is more difficult to prove by way of statistics. As it appears from the outlines, the notion of art history research changes, but it is not just a matter of epistemological transformations. In the context of art history, the mediation of novel theoretical and conceptual research is not as easily communicated to a wider audience as the prevalent genres of artists’ biographies and museum catalogues as well as art history survey books. These genres, however, are not well-suited to communicating knowledge on conceptual-based contemporary art and new critical research that, among other things, questions the genres of artists’ biographies, the survey book and even the concept of art.
In the course of the 1980s and 1990s this cleavage was described by the notion of the aforementioned “New Art History” (that is, Figure 4) in contrast to the traditional (or Normal) art history (that is, Figure 3), which in addition was echoed by the distinction between university art history and museum art history (Haxthausen, 2002; Elkins, 1997, p. 11). In its most simplistic version, from the perspective of the museum art historians, polarization means that art historians at the university ignore the aesthetics of art and lack the physical presence of art works. Conversely, the argument is that the art museum is a player in the culture industry. The societal, economic and political conditions for museum practice, involving blockbuster exhibitions and external funding, make it difficult to conduct critical research. On the contrary, university art history studies art and museums as instruments in the service of power and authority, and it questions issues of gender, ethnicity and nationalism. In this setting, the museum art historian encounters a “museofobic” discourse which he does not recognize from his everyday life in the museum. From this point-of-view, the very theoretical and philosophical discourses of the university art historian are out of step with museum practices.
Today, the above-mentioned argument renders an oversimplified dichotomy. The point is, however, that diverse perceptions of the same art history co-exist and they can emerge in the mapping of a domain. Primarily, polarization points toward disciplinary self-understanding and generalized epistemological differences, which it is important to include when a person is about to navigate in the landscape(s) of art history. Moreover, the difference between “new” and “normal” art history mirrors more than the consequences of publishing scientific articles. By tradition, art historians publish illustrated (and expensive) books, coffee table books, bulky museum exhibition catalogues, and so on, whereas the above-outlined theoretical and philosophical oriented research is to be found in journals and books published inside academic circles...
and by minor publishing houses; thus, the latter does not have the same punch with regard to the general public’s perception of on the domain of art history.
In fact, among the above-mentioned journals, Apollo, Burlington Magazine, Art History and Journal of Visual Culture, Apollo and Burlington Magazine are not strictly speaking peer reviewed journals, although they, among other things, present new research. They represent an epistemology in which the border between research and communication to a broader audience is blurred; for example, both journals have readers affiliated to the auction domain (for elaboration on the difference, see, e.g. Ørom, 2003). In terms of the early UNISIST model, these reflections have the effect that there is more to the “users” of the 1968 curriculum. In Figure 3, the notion of “Art historian?” (with a question mark) appears with an export of research and communication to a broader audience, but in comparison with the 2000 version, the question mark here follows the “communication to a broader audience” because most of the export is explicitly directed toward the scholarly community. In the old version, research and communication to a broader audience often overlap, and the “art historian” does not need to be a university trained scholar; he can be an auctioneer or connoisseur in the old sense of this metier or he can be a reader who has a general interest in the history of art.
A further observation could focus on joint types of documents in the two domains which have institutional implications. A particular document type of art history is the reproduction of the artwork in a range of formats alongside, of course, the artworks themselves. The last mentioned are often considered as carriers of meaning without which it would be impossible to conduct art history research. On the other hand, in the art history practices the artworks are primarily present by way of visual references. Art historians do encounter an abundance of works of art, but when speaking, writing, and reading about art and art history, that is, the standard routines for scholars and students, the works of art are absent more often than not. It is impossible not to read and speak about works of art that the scholar will never have the chance of physically encountering. Significantly, the spreading of picture archives and libraries increased from the end of the nineteenth century, as art history became a well-established discipline, and a recurring topic in the international conferences of those days was the quality of reproductions; nowadays, such a topic would be futile because of the fundamentally different character of image production and distribution (Dam Christensen, 2010). In terms of the UNISIST models, this implies that these picture archives (and art museums) are a domain-specific characteristic of the modern domain of art history.
An art history domain from c1820
In the second half of the nineteenth century, the modern discipline of art history progressed as a mature academic apparatus with separate chairs at universities, academic journals and conferences, bibliographies, and so on. The development was launched during the first half of the century with starting points partly in an aesthetical-philosophical tradition, partly in an art academic and art critical tradition.
The Danish art historian, Niels Laurits Høyen (1792–1870) demonstrated this development. He became the first specialized art historian in Denmark. Nowadays, he would be considered self-taught as no formalized university study in art history in Denmark or elsewhere was obtainable around 1820, the year he decided to become an art historian (Ussing, 1872, p. 18ff). The first independent art history chairs surfaced
mainly in the second half of the century, in particular in German speaking countries; as such, the Danish development is akin to the German. In a Danish context, Høyen attained the first university professorship in 1856; prior to this professorship, teaching in the history of art at the University of Copenhagen was conducted by the chairs in aesthetics and philosophy. With the autonomous chair in the history of art, it became possible to graduate in art history at the University. Høyen became a forerunner for this development as he joined his first position as a professor in the history of art at the Royal Academy of Fine Art, Copenhagen, in 1829. Previously, this position was filled by persons with a disciplinary background in archeology and Norse mythology.
Achievement of knowledge in art history literature and European art collections, as well as associations with contemporary artists, art connoisseurs and scholars, were of prime importance in Høyen's self-taught study. The latter became possible on his long-term tour in the period 1822–1825 in which he, among others, became acquainted with the German writer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1782–1832) as well as the painter Caspar David Friedrich (1774–1840). These meetings, as well as meetings with other cultural personages, were made possible by way of recommendations that Høyen carried with him from Copenhagen to either the persons themselves or persons near them that could direct the young man to the intellectuals and artists he wanted to or was advised to meet (Drigsdahl, 1974). Beside the importance of discussing relevant issues with these leading persons on art, culture and history, the purpose was to gain admission to private libraries and art collections which were far from publicly accessible; free access to knowledge and free distribution of knowledge in a modern sense were yet to come.
On closer inspection, the main objective for Høyen was to achieve scientific based knowledge of the history of art. Johann Joachim Winckelmann may well have published his famous *Gesichte der Kunst des Altertums* in 1764, and even in Vasari's *Vite* dating back to 1550 one finds thoughts on the development of art. Høyen's (and other aspiring art historians') problem was, however, that most books only dealt with fragments of the history of art, that many of them were old-fashioned with regard to the development of science from the beginning of the century, and, last, that the newer literature was not necessarily accessible inside the borders of Denmark, and, moreover, he must have felt that his knowledge on the newest publications was full of holes; in terms of the art history domain, for example, the first international systematic bibliographies were published from 1870. In addition, the quality of the reproductions of this time made it imperative to encounter the artworks *in situ*. Printing companies and highly specialized artists did produce reproductions of a fine quality, but acquaintance through engravings and lithographs was not enough to become an art historian (Dam Christensen, 2010). As preparation for his Grand Tour, Høyen took drawing lessons at the Royal Academy of Fine Art (Ussing, 1872: 25); this training assisted him in remembering details, sketching portraits and recording architectural ground plans and so forth while he was travelling.
So, when Høyen returned to Copenhagen in 1825 from his three-year-long study tour, he did not return to a fully grown discipline with institutionalized practices or blossoming debates among peers; in fact, the “erster kunstwissenschaftlicher Congress” was arranged in Vienna, 1873 (Mittheilungen, 1873). It would also be premature to consider art history as a fully grown academic discipline even when Høyen passed away in 1870. It should be unnecessary to mention that no clear division between university
art history and museum art history (although a distinction is debated in the proceedings from the 1873 congress) existed, and the user of art history knowledge was not an “art historian”, but rather the learned and educated citizen. Thus, the osmotic feature of the revised UNISIST model (without the gray field), which is open for exchange with other knowledge domains, is more suitable in mapping the 1820 domain (Figure 6). It should be stressed, however, that, in retrospect, this mapping of a pre-mature “art history” is an option in order to demonstrate the diachronic transformation of a myriad of discourses and practices; for Høyen and his peers the move from one – in a modern sense – domain to another could often take place in a quite seamless way in comparison to disciplinary trained researchers at a later time.
In comparison with the previous UNISIST models, a few further observations should be noted, in particular in terms of the importance of the above-mentioned reproductions. When Høyen died in 1870, the spreading of photographic reproductions was going on to such a degree that scholars have contended that, without the invention of photography, art history would not have developed into a mature academic discipline – the photographic reproductions made the scientific object of study much more accessible than the pre-photographic reproductions (Dam Christensen, 2010; Fawcett, 1983; Fawcett, 1986). Next, limited access to knowledge has to be noted again. On the one hand, it was difficult to get information on relevant literature and to know where to find it. On the other hand, access to more or less private libraries and art collections was dependent on the above-mentioned recommendations. As stated, conversations with the proper persons were important in order to obtain the necessary knowledge and information. In Figure 6, the small arrows around the words “liberal public sphere”, “Öffentlichkeit”, “networks”, “conversations” and “recommendations”, indicate the prominence of obtaining knowledge and information by way of personal contacts and conversations. At the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth century, the growth in newspapers, journals, reading clubs and coffee houses made it possible for individuals to exchange views and knowledge and to develop a critical public (Habermas, 1962). In fact, Høyen did distribute his knowledge on the history of art into the public sphere; after his return, he started a long life interest in public lectures and participation in establishing civic societies and associations for the benefit of the new bourgeois national state.
A final observation is also important. In Figure 6, letters and diaries are underlined as a significant source to information. During his three-year-long stay outside Denmark, Høyen wrote numerous letters to his fiancée in Copenhagen. Often, the letters contained specific art history observations and recordings, meticulous measurements of architectural works, lengthy reflections on style and artists and so on. It is tempting to ask why he wrote in this way to his fiancée who had to wait several years for his return. The answer is probably that Høyen did more than just write romantic letters. The letters, as well as the diaries he kept during his travelling years, were not just meant for the private sphere but the public sphere as well. They were his (and his future wife’s) assurance for the future. The lengthy letters were often copies of his diaries and vice versa with notes, records, drawings, and so on and they were meant to be the foundation of his future teaching and research as an art historian; if some letters disappeared in the postal service or, conversely, diaries were lost during travelling, the one could supersede the other.
Theoretical displacements
The significance of diverse types of documents, for example, the use of reproductions and diaries/letters in the case in question, as well as, in general, the necessity of recommendations and limited access to information, opens a diachronic understanding of domains. As mentioned, the revision of the UNISIST model already pointed toward
Figure 6.
An outline of the domain of “art history” c1820, the years N.L. Hayen decided to become an art historian
changes in the structures of communication, in particular in terms of the application of new media. However, other aspects are important as well, in particular the fact that free access to information and information distribution does not exist per se; it has to be developed and maintained. Even though a few institutions are repeated in the three art history domains (under different names: in particular, the Library of Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts turns to The Danish National Art Library), institutional, epistemological, and sociological layers change over time. As also mentioned, the epistemological level is changing with the fastest speed (resulting in changing book and journal titles) while the institutional reorganizations are slower. The sociological level, for example in the form of “civic societies” and the “communication of research to a broader audience”, changes as well, but not necessarily with the same visibility as other layers. On closer inspection, however, the aforementioned university mergers could be revealed by way of the definition of relevant “university assignments”.
The UNISIST model offers, on the one hand, an abstract of the structures from producer to user, on the other an overview of the domain in question, which is important because most researchers move “intuitively” in a domain-specific landscape. It is, however, reasonable to ask whether these linear structures of the model can accommodate the ways a scientific community shares and distributes knowledge. Attempts at mapping scientific information behavior in a non-linear manner have seen the light of day, but they do not automatically help in understanding the formal and informal processes of knowledge production and knowledge distribution (Tabak and Wilson, 2012). With increasing interdisciplinarity, a systematic approach to information seeking continues to be advisable because one often has to navigate in unfamiliar domains; the overview is not necessarily maintained and usage of Journal Impact Factor, and so on could help in terms of assessment. At the same time, this just makes a qualified notion of “intuition” even more important, as the information seeking tools are best suited to well-structured domains. Scientific domains are, however, similar to discursive communities in which knowledge is more or less organized provisionally. By way of the UNISIST model (and its derivatives) domain analysis can be facilitated in order to conceptualize the implicit and explicit ways in which information is stored and created, the way communication is structured inside the community here and now, and, last, it can help in tracing the mechanism underlying the exchange of information (Hjørland and Albrechtsen, 1995).
Thus, knowledge organization is not static, but situated in terms of the optics of the researcher and information specialist. In addition, the traditional monodisciplines such as art history, comparative literature and so forth are in an ongoing transformation, and, as mentioned, inter- or even transdisciplinarity is an important feature in modern science in terms of delivering solutions to central societal problems (Gibbons et al., 2002). Moreover, as the previous examples indicate, it is difficult to define an autonomous domain at all. On the contrary, it is reasonable to suggest that the understanding of the instability of a domain helps in improving the exchange of knowledge and information. This is so because it exposes pertinent archeological levels inherent in the current domain and perhaps even anticipates its future development. At least, it makes it possible to map the fluctuations of agents, media and technologies, institutions, and so on in comparison with former analyses of the domain, for example, whether current players are losing or altering significance and whether new players are surfacing. It should also be noted that once, for example, art history did not exist as
a domain in a modern sense. Thus, due to the changeable discourses and practices of a
domain, the digital impact that expands the gray area of the UNISIST model, the
political demands for the aforementioned inter- and transdisciplinarity, and so forth, a
future without – in our current sense – art history could be imaginable. On the one
hand, the domain analysis constructs a scientific domain; on the other hand, it can
deconstruct a domain as well.
In light of these reflections, information specialists cannot just lean to the digitally
generated opportunities alone; a dialogue with domain specialists is necessary.
Likewise, domain specialists have to rely on information specialists in order to
optimize their domain-specific knowledge. The organizations of the cultural field and,
even further, society have an impact on knowledge domains too (see Orom, 2003).
Thus, information seeking, for example, is not limited to the use of technology; the
activity is, in itself, part of the discourses of the scientific community, cf. the
Foucauldian understanding of power relations.
The aim of these concluding remarks is not only to call for further attention to, for
example, epistemological displacements and diachronic studies, but to question the
ontology of both the concept of “a domain” and “information seeking behavior” if they
are taken out of their cultural and historical contexts. If, for example, the domain is
considered to be an autonomous and self-existing field, the framing of the domain via
domain analysis is overshadowed. The domain, however, cannot be detached from or
be defined without the framing; this underlines the importance of the synchronic
point-of-view. The domain does not exist out there, but surfaces through the recording
of it. In addition, typical information specialist activities, previously and now, such as
information guides, thesauri, classification systems, bibliometric analyses, for
example, citation analyses in “leading” journals, and so on, have always been active
in defining scientific domains. Several activities presuppose specific criteria of
relevance and quality. For example, what is the definition of “leading” journals and
series of proceedings? Who names what becomes canonical literature in a domain? In
the same way, review articles, readers and introductory books frame the domain in
question by nominating important theoretical positions, privileging specific objects of
study, and so on. This is not necessarily a problem. Definitions of constants (specific
agents, actants and networks as well as theoretical models and concepts) are crucial in
order to examine objects, but the problem is that too obvious truths easily transform
into scientific obstacles if they are granted an ontological status.
Previously, the “soft” research field art history has been the target. The question
remains, whether the “hard” or “exact” sciences that the original UNISIST model aimed
toward would show the same instability? Or in other words: are they too easily granted
the aforementioned ontological status? The space does not allow an elaborated answer,
but it is possible to infer signs of instability without difficulty: For example, if the
success parameter of the medicine domain is purely objective diagnoses, this
overshadows the inherent discourses of a discipline that has transformed from the art
of sorcery and witchcraft to molecular biology: that is, from a diachronic point-of-view
it still possesses archeological layers from the past in the current discourses and
practices; from a synchronic point-of-view, the domain shapes itself depending on the
stand point, for example, that of the doctor, the researcher, the philosopher, the health
system, the “net doctor”, the patient, the healer … Again, the argument is that a
domain (or an information system) is not well-balanced, but in an ongoing process
The framing of scientific domains
279
where it is defined by its agents who are enrolled in specific cultural and social discourses and technologies.
References
Ussing, J.L. (1872), Niels Laurits Hoyens Levned, Copenhagen.
Further reading
Corresponding author
Hans Dam Christensen can be contacted at: hdc@iva.dk
To purchase reprints of this article please e-mail: reprints@emeraldinsight.com
Or visit our web site for further details: www.emeraldinsight.com/reprints |
Regular Meeting of the
City of Concord
Design Review Board
Thursday, January 23, 2020
5:30 p.m.
1950 Parkside Drive
Information for the public on participation at Design Review Board meetings can be found on the back of the Speaker Identification Card located near the Permit Center Conference Room entrance. Should you have any questions after consulting the Speaker Identification Card, please contact the Planning Division at (925) 671-3152 prior to the Design Review Board meeting.
AGENDIZED ITEMS - The public is entitled to address the Design Review Board on items appearing on the agenda before or during the Design Review Board’s consideration of that item. Each speaker will be limited to approximately three minutes.
1. ROLL CALL
2. PUBLIC COMMENT PERIOD
3. CONSENT CALENDAR - None
4. STAFF REPORTS
1. Myrtle Creek Estates Subdivision (PL17482 - DR) - Project Planner: Lorna Villa @ (925) 671-3176
5. PUBLIC HEARINGS
1. Tabernacle Preschool (PL19241 - DR) - Final Design Review to construct a 7,226 square foot preschool and repurpose an existing 1,830 square foot residence into an office on a 1.17-acre site at 1811 and 1819 Denkinger Road. The General Plan Designation is Low Density Residential; Zoning classification is RS-8 (Residential Single-Family, 8,000 square foot
minimum lot size); APN 115-120-017, -018. Project Planner: Ryan Lenhardt @ (925) 671-3162
2. **Park N Shop Remodel (PL19261 – DR)** - Preliminary Design Review for façade improvements, parking modifications, and landscaping upgrades at 1679-1691 Willow Pass Road. The General Plan designation is Downtown Mixed Use; Zoning classification is DMX (Downtown Mixed Use); APN 126-281-011. **Project Planner: Joan Ryan @ (925) 671-3370**
6. **BOARD CONSIDERATIONS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS**
7. **STAFF ANNOUNCEMENTS**
8. **ADJOURNMENT**
Next Meeting: Regular Meeting
Date: 2/13/2020
**ADA NOTICE**
In accordance with the Americans with Disabilities Act and California Law, it is the policy of the City of Concord to offer its public programs, services and meetings in a manner that is readily accessible to everyone, including those with disabilities. If you are disabled and require a copy of a public hearing notice, or an agenda and/or agenda packet in an appropriate alternative format; or if you require other accommodation, please contact the ADA Coordinator at (925) 671-3243, at least five days in advance of the hearing. Advance notification within this guideline will enable the City to make reasonable arrangements to ensure accessibility.
**AGENDA ITEM NO. 1**
**REPORT TO DESIGN REVIEW BOARD**
DATE: January 23, 2020
### I. GENERAL INFORMATION
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Project Name:</th>
<th>Myrtle Creek Estates Subdivision (PL17482 – DR)</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Review Status:</td>
<td>Staff Report</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Location:</td>
<td>5019 Myrtle Drive</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Parcel Number:</td>
<td>117-050-008</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>General Plan:</td>
<td>Rural Residential</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Zoning:</td>
<td>RR-20 (Rural Residential, minimum lot size 20,000 sq. ft.)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Applicant:</td>
<td>Cyrus land Investments, LLC</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Brian Kesler</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>4021 Port Chicago Hwy.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Concord CA 94520</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>(925) 671-7711</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Vicinity Map:
II. PROJECT BACKGROUND
On June 14, 2018, the Design Review Board recommended approval of revised plans for the Ridge Park Lane Subdivision with a requirement for several items to return to the Board for review.
On November 6, 2019, the Planning Commission amended the conditions of the Tentative Map to allow for additional tree removal.
On December 10, 2019, the applicant submitted revised plans to address the Board’s comments from June 14, 2018.
III. DISCUSSION
The June 14, 2018 meeting minutes are italicized below followed by the applicant’s response in bold and then staff’s comments and bulleted recommendations when applicable.
1. The final landscape plan shall identify plant water usage, include additional varieties of shrubs, include a section of planted landscaping, and provide one gallon sub-shrubs.
A final landscape plan has been submitted to address the Board’s comments.
Sheet L3 identifies water usage for the subdivision.
2. Provide the adjusted fence locations including clarification of fence termination for the left side of Plan 1.
The fencing plan is shown on Sheet L-6.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment by submitting a fence plan that shows the location of all proposed fences and gates.
3. The design of the handrail along Myrtle Drive shall be reviewed by the Board.
The fencing along Myrtle Drive is shown on Sheet L-6.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment by providing a 42-inch tall steel picket fence along the south property line of Lot 7. The fence is located approximately 45 feet south of the side yard wood fence for Lot 7.
4. Correct gable on right side elevation of Plan 2 (Sheet 2.2).
The gable on the right side elevation of Plan 2 has been corrected. The exhibits provided show the original elevation submitted by Schwartz Land Development and the revised elevation plan prepared by EDI International.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
5. Provide a site plan that identifies which homes will be on each lot.
A plotting plan has been provided and includes the chart below.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Lot No.</th>
<th>PLAN 1 Footprint sq. ft.</th>
<th>PLAN 2 Footprint sq. ft.</th>
<th>PLAN 3 Footprint sq. ft.</th>
<th>Lot Coverage</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>2,617</td>
<td>11%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td>2,270</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>16%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td></td>
<td>3,554</td>
<td></td>
<td>11%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>2,617</td>
<td>11%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td>2,270</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>11%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td></td>
<td>3,554</td>
<td></td>
<td>16%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>2,617</td>
<td>9%</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
Prepared by:
Lorna Villa
Associate Planner
lorna.villa@cityofconcord.org
Exhibits:
A - Final Landscape Plans date stamp received December 10, 2019
B – Plan 2 Elevations (Schwartz Land Development and EDI International) date stamp received December 10, 2019
C - Master Plotting Plan date stamp received December 10, 2019
I. GENERAL INFORMATION
Project Name: Tabernacle Preschool (PL19241 - DR)
Review Status: Final Design Review
Locations: 1811 and 1819 Denkinger Road
Parcel Numbers: 115-120-017, -018
General Plan: Low Density Residential
Zoning: RS-8 (Residential Single-Family, min. lot size 8,000 square feet)
Applicant: Marentette N Marentette
Attn: Ray Marentette
P. O. Box 202
Martinez CA 94553
Vicinity Map:
II. PROJECT BACKGROUND
On October 11, 2017, Marentette N Marentette filed a Preliminary Application to construct a 7,515 square foot preschool on a 0.67-acre site at 1819 Denkinger Road.
On October 24, 2017, the Development Advisory Committee (DAC) reviewed the project and provided comments regarding the requirement for a traffic study, on-site circulation, and the parking design.
On November 7, 2017, staff and the applicant conducted a neighborhood meeting. Eleven neighbors attended the meeting and expressed concerns regarding traffic on Concord Boulevard and Denkinger Road and the potential to exacerbate the condition with the project. Neighbors were also concerned the project would be under-parked and the preschool would generate noise, especially the playground, which shares a property line with an adjacent residential neighborhood.
On November 16, 2017, the Design Review Board (DRB) conducted conceptual design review and provided the applicant with comments regarding the building massing and articulation of the façade. The Board asked the applicant to upsize trees, provide details regarding the playground design, and the location of the walls and fences.
In 2019, the applicant entered into an agreement to purchase an adjacent developed parcel to the north that contains a 1,830 square foot residence and a 1,000 square foot detached garage to expand the site and address comments from the Transportation Division regarding the need to improve site circulation, queueing along Concord Boulevard, and providing adequate parking and drop-off areas.
On November 5, 2019, Marentette N Marentette filed a Use Permit, Design Review, and Tree Removal application to construct a 7,226 square foot preschool and repurpose an existing 1,830 square foot residence into an office on a 1.17-acre site at 1811 and 1819 Denkinger Road.
On November 19, 2019, the DAC reviewed the project and provided comments regarding the traffic study, on-site circulation, number of parking stalls, and the proposed utilities, and deemed the application incomplete.
On November 19, 2019, staff and the applicant conducted a neighborhood meeting. Nineteen neighbors attended the meeting and expressed concerns regarding parking, deliveries, drop-off schedule, student and employee population, and the operation of Stonebrook Healthcare Center adjacent to the site.
On December 23, 2019, Marentette N Marentette resubmitted the application and the DAC conducted a completeness review and deemed the application incomplete on January 14, 2020 requesting additional information regarding onsite vehicle circulation.
The DRB’s design recommendations will be incorporated as conditions of approval considered by the Planning Commission as part of the associated Use Permit.
III. DISCUSSION
The November 16, 2017 Design Review Board meeting minutes are italicized below followed by the applicant’s response in bold and then staff’s comments and bulleted recommendations when applicable. Overall, staff asserts the Board’s comments have been addressed and that any additional recommendations can be incorporated into the project plans prior to the issuance of a building permit.
Architecture
1) *Push dormers closer together and reduce their size.*
Dormers have been pushed closer together by approximately two feet and have been reduced in size by one foot.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
2) *Consider gable overhangs to provide shadow.*
Gable overhangs have been provided and are standard one foot for shadow and have an additional two-foot bracketed overhang that is 12 feet wide at gable peaks on either side.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
3) *Use board and batten siding throughout the building; battens should be substantial (e.g., 2” x 3”).*
2 x 3 board and batten siding has been provided throughout the building.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
4) *Articulate roof vents and be sure they are in scale with the building.*
Roof vents have been articulated and are in scale with the building.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
5) *Consider using a stone veneer to accent the building especially at the entry.*
Stone veneer was considered but, deemed unnecessary with the richness of the updated 2 x 3 batt and board siding.
Staff asserts the design is cohesive with the use of matching materials and does not require stone veneer.
6) *Terminate the battens into a base trim.*
Base trim added throughout.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
7) Use an intermediate trim element that runs horizontally across the high gabled ends of the building.
Horizontal, intermediate trim elements added at the gable ends of the building.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
8) Use a heavier wood window trim.
A heavier 2 x 6 wood window trim has been incorporated.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
9) Incorporate knee braces/brackets at the gable ends of the roof.
Knee braces/brackets have been incorporated at the gable ends and at the entry.
The applicant addressed the Board’s comment.
Landscaping
10) Place trees closer to the parking lot and upsize the trees.
Trees have been relocated closer to the parking lot, outside of the future right hand turn lane and sidewalk. The trees have been located to avoid utilities while attempting to maintain 30’ on center spacing.
- Staff recommends the applicant specify the use of “cool turf” wherever “artificial lawn” is called out.
11) Provide design details for the playground, walls, and fences.
Playground walls and fence details have been provided on Landscape and Civil documents.
- Consider installing a low tubular steel fence at the far edge of the walkway at the front of the preschool building for safety/security.
IV. RECOMMENDATION
Staff recommends the following items be included as conditions of the associated Use Permit application.
• Specify the use of “cool turf” wherever “artificial lawn” is called out on the landscape plan.
• Install a low tubular steel fence at the far edge of the walkway at the front of the preschool building for safety/security.
V. MOTION
Staff has prepared the following motion for the Board’s consideration should you be satisfied with the revised plans and the proposed conditions of approval.
I (Board Member __________) hereby move that the Design Review Board recommend approval of Tabernacle Preschool (PL19241 - DR), subject to the Development Code provisions applicable to the project, staff’s recommendations, and any additional recommendations made by the Board.
Prepared by:
G. Ryan Lenhardt
Senior Planner
(925) 671-3162
ryan.lenhardt@cityofconcord.org
Exhibits:
A - Written statement date stamp received November 5, 2019
B - Original plan submittal (elevations and landscaping only) date stamp received October 11, 2017
C - Arborist report date stamp received December 23, 2019
D - Project plans date stamp received December 23, 2019
October 30, 2019
City of Concord, Planning and Economic Development Department,
1950 Parkside Drive, M/S 53, Concord, CA 94519-2578.
HISTORY:
Tabernacle Christian School, begun in 1971, comprise a 4 acre lot in the City of Concord and provides education services for Grades K through 8. The recently constructed Junior High School addition and Master Campus Plan has been produced successfully via the City of Concord 'Use Permit' process along with Neighborhood input.
PROPOSED DEVELOPMENT
The new Preschool Campus, comprising 7,226 sf of conditioned space is to be located adjacent to the school's Main Campus at Concord Blvd., and Denkinger Road, and is intended to echo both the Use Permit process and Design aesthetic recently approved for the Junior High School addition and Master Campus Plan.
Currently, the property which is being proposed for development of the new Preschool is comprised of a Single-Family Residence to be demolished which fronts Concord Blvd. Additionally, an adjacent property on Denkinger Road will be utilized for vehicle access and is comprised of a single family Residence which is to remain in it's existing condition and utilized for storage and future Office use with additional parking being provided for on-site (ADA equivalent Office facilitation will be provided at the new Preschool).
Additionally, an Arborist Report has been produced which identifies protected trees. Protected trees are intended to be preserved with the new Preschool development.
Traffic concerns are addressed with the School Administration's proposed arrival and departure times that reflect current traffic concerns imposed by neighboring schools in the vicinity, such as Concord High School, as well as a Traffic Study prepared for the City of Concord.
The proposed design, when viewed in it's entirety, compliments the existing, varied, architectural streetscape and will not adversely impact adjacent properties to the side, rear or directly across either Concord Blvd./Denkinger Road with respect to solar access, view blockage and privacy.
WEST-EAST CROSS SECTION THROUGH DINING/CRAFTS HALL
scale: 1/4" = 1'-0"
SIDE - WEST ELEVATION
scale: 1/4" = 1'-0"
NORTH-SOUTH CROSS SECTION
scale: 1/4" = 1'-0"
September 18, 2017 (updated 8/26/19)
Ray Marentette
Vitruviusray@gmail.com
Re: Arborist Report for Tabernacle Preschool, 1811 Denkinger Road, Concord
Dear Ray,
This arborist report addresses the proposed preschool at 1811 Denkinger Road. Per the City of Concord’s Tree Preservation and Protection Ordinance Chapter 18.310, the scope of work includes:
- Tag, identify and measure protected trees on or overhanging the property, within 50’ of proposed improvements. Trees that are considered protected per the city ordinance are defined as:
- Native trees with a 12” DBH (diameter at breast height, measured at 4.5’ above grade) single trunk, or 12” DBH sum of all stems on a multi-stemmed tree, of the following species: Valley oak (Quercus lobata), Blue oak (Q. douglasii), Coast live oak (Q. agrifolia), California bay (Umbellularia californica), California buckeye (Aesculus californica), California sycamore (Platanus racemosa)
- Other single-trunk trees with at least 24” DBH or a multi-stemmed tree where the sum of all stems is 24” DBH.
- Any tree that has been designated a heritage tree by the Planning Commission.
- A tree required to be planted, relocated or preserved as a condition of approval for a discretionary permit.
- A tree with DBH of 6” or more, or one component trunk of a multi-stemmed tree with a diameter of 4” or more, located within the structure setback of creeks or streams as defined in CDC 18.305.040A.
- Identify dripline locations and tree numbers on site plan.
- Assess individual tree health and structural condition.
- Assess proposed improvements for potential encroachment.
- Based on proposed encroachment, tree health, structure, and species susceptibility, make recommendations for preservation.
This updated report expands on the earlier report, to include an additional parcel to the northeast.
Project Summary
The site is located north of the Denkinger Rd and Concord Blvd intersection, and was recently expanded to encompass another parcel to the northeast. One of the existing homes is uninhabited, surrounded by an old orchard. The other home is currently in use and has a smaller home orchard. The preschool building is located to the west, with the remainder developed into parking & driveways. The existing house on the northeast parcel will remain for school use.
I included thirteen (13) trees in my tree inventory, consisting of native oaks, fruit trees, and walnuts. The majority of the trees are located in or very close to the proposed building, playground, and parking lot.
It is my opinion that a total of eight (8) trees will need to be removed to accommodate the proposed project, and the remaining five (5) can be retained given that the protection measures within this report are followed.
Assumptions & Limitations
This report is based on my site visits on 8/23/17 & 7/11/19, and the site plan provided by Milani & Associates dated 8/16/19. On my 7/11/19 visit, I only reviewed the trees in the proposed extension into the property at the northeast. Health and structural conditions of trees #35-40 were not reviewed for this update. It was assumed that the proposed improvements and trees were accurately surveyed on the plans. One tree (#36) was not surveyed, so I approximately located it on the tree protection plan.
The health and structure of the trees were assessed visually from ground level. No drilling, root excavation, or aerial inspections were performed. Internal or non-detectable defects may exist, and could lead to part or whole tree failures. Due to the dynamic nature of trees and their environment, it is not possible for arborists to guarantee that trees will not fail in the future.
Tree Inventory & Assessment Table
#s: Each tree was given a numerical tag from #35-47. Their locations are given in the tree protection plan.
DBH (Diameter at Breast Height): Trunk diameters in inches were calculated from the circumference measured at 4.5’ above average grade.
Health & Structural Condition Rating
Dead: Dead or declining past chance of recovery.
Poor (P): Stunted or declining canopy, poor foliar color, possible disease or insect issues. Severe structural defects that may or may not be correctable. Usually not a reliable specimen for preservation.
Fair (F): Fair to moderate vigor. Minor structural defects that can be corrected. More susceptible to construction impacts than a tree in good condition.
Good (G): Good vigor and color, with no obvious problems or defects. Generally more resilient to impacts.
Age
Young (Y): Within the first 20% of expected life span. High resiliency to encroachment.
Mature (M): Between 20% - 80% of expected life span. Moderate resiliency to encroachment.
Overmature (OM): In >80% of expected life span. Low resiliency to encroachment.
DE: Dripline Encroachment (X indicates encroachment)
CI: Anticipated Construction Impact (L = Low, M = Moderate, H = High)
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>#</th>
<th>Species</th>
<th>DBH</th>
<th>Health</th>
<th>Structure</th>
<th>Age</th>
<th>DE</th>
<th>CI</th>
<th>Comments</th>
<th>Action</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>35</td>
<td>Valley Oak <em>(Quercus lobata)</em></td>
<td>22</td>
<td>G</td>
<td>G-F</td>
<td>25</td>
<td>25</td>
<td>30</td>
<td>25</td>
<td>M X H Ivy climbing into trunk. Minor corrected lean in lower trunk. Slightly sparse canopy. Large co-dominant stems and scaffold branches at 15’. In proposed play area; 13’ from proposed drainage; 20’ from proposed building; 14’ from proposed awning.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>37</td>
<td>Valley Oak</td>
<td>22</td>
<td>G-F</td>
<td>G-F</td>
<td>20</td>
<td>20</td>
<td>25</td>
<td>25</td>
<td>M X L Grade buried. Good tree. About 8-9’ from existing wall. Wounds/cankers may be due to damage from grading equipment. 24’ from proposed building.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>40</td>
<td>Fig <em>(Ficus carica)</em></td>
<td>10, 10, 12</td>
<td>VP</td>
<td>P</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>OM X H Estimated DBH. Topped at 10’, dieback and decay into trunks. Top is very sparse, chlorotic and sunburned. Multiple stems at 5’. Tree may decline further regardless of construction. In proposed parking.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>41</td>
<td>California black walnut</td>
<td>46</td>
<td>F-P</td>
<td>F-P</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>20</td>
<td>30</td>
<td>25</td>
<td>M X H Clearance pruned from high voltage lines. Decay in 16” pruning cut on trunk. Moderate top dieback; sparse and chlorotic. Heavy mistletoe infestation. Multiple stems at 10’ with foliage at tips. Proposed bio-retention 2’ to W, drainage 7’ to E.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>#</td>
<td>Species</td>
<td>DBH</td>
<td>Health</td>
<td>Structure</td>
<td>Dripline</td>
<td>Age</td>
<td>DE</td>
<td>CI</td>
<td>Comments</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>----</td>
<td>----------------------------</td>
<td>-----------</td>
<td>--------</td>
<td>-----------</td>
<td>----------</td>
<td>-----</td>
<td>----</td>
<td>----</td>
<td>--------------------------------------------------------------------------</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>42</td>
<td>California black walnut</td>
<td>36</td>
<td>F</td>
<td>F</td>
<td>15</td>
<td>15</td>
<td>15</td>
<td>H</td>
<td>Diameter measured at 3’ above grade; elevated due to ivy. 6’ from existing driveway. Multiple stems at 8’, likely from previous topping. Moderate dieback, some large diameter deadwood. In proposed driveway.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>43</td>
<td>Fig</td>
<td>12.5, 14, 14, 14.5</td>
<td>G</td>
<td>G-F</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>M</td>
<td>Multiple trunks. Two sides of trunk surrounded by wall 6’ away. In proposed driveway.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>44</td>
<td>Plum (Prunus sp.)</td>
<td>5, 5, 5, 5, 3, 3, 4</td>
<td>F-P</td>
<td>F</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>M</td>
<td>Canopy half sparse with minor dieback. Trunk flare buried. Multiple stems at 3’ above grade. 11’ from proposed driveway.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>45</td>
<td>Plum</td>
<td>6, 6, 7, 6</td>
<td>F</td>
<td>F</td>
<td>6</td>
<td>6</td>
<td>6</td>
<td>M</td>
<td>Minor dieback. Trunk flare buried. Multiple stems at 3’ above grade. 7’ from proposed driveway.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>46</td>
<td>Plum</td>
<td>4, 6, 4, 4, 6, 5</td>
<td>F-P</td>
<td>F</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>12</td>
<td>M</td>
<td>Low-growing scaffold branch to south. Minor dieback. Trunk flare buried. Multiple stems at 3’ above grade. 6’ from proposed driveway.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>47</td>
<td>Plum</td>
<td>5.5, 6, 3.5, 3.5, 3.5</td>
<td>F</td>
<td>F</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>8</td>
<td>M</td>
<td>Twig dieback. Sunburn damage on lower trunk and scaffold branches. Multiple stems at 3’ above grade. 7’ from proposed driveway.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Trees that will need to be removed: 35, 36, 38-43 (7 trees)
Trees to be saved that will be subjected to dripline encroachment: 37, 45-47 (4 trees)
Trees to be saved that will not be encroached: 44
Discussion
The preschool was originally located close to a valley oak (#37, Figure 1) by the northwest property line, with a playground proposed beneath its canopy. The design has changed such that there are minimal encroachments near the tree, so it can be fenced off for the duration of construction.
Fencing shall also be installed around the purple leaf plums (#44-47, Figure 2) that line the east property line. The driveway and curb was reduced in scope in order to retain the trees with reduced impact. However, the trees may still experience water stress from losing the roots within the proposed driveway area. I recommend supplemental irrigation to mitigate the effects of construction.
Recommendations (to be printed on site plans)
Pre-construction
- Remove trees #35, 36 & 38-43 (7 trees).
- Mulch from tree removals may be spread out under trees #44-47 to a depth of 3”, keeping at least 12” away from the trunks.
- Supplemental irrigation shall be provided to trees #44-47 before, during, and after construction.
- Prior to construction or grading, contractor shall construct a temporary 6’ chain-link fence to set up a Tree Protection Zone (TPZ) around trees ##37 & 44-47 as indicated on the tree protection plan.
- TPZ fencing shall remain in an upright sturdy manner from the start of grading until the completion of construction. Fencing shall not be adjusted or removed without consulting the project arborist (PA).
Foundation, Grading, and Construction Phase
- If roots ≥ 2” diameter are encountered during excavation by trees #44-47, consult the project arborist (PA) for recommendations.
- If needed, pruning shall be performed by personnel certified by the International Society of Arboriculture (ISA). All pruning shall adhere to ISA and American National Standards Institute (ANSI) Standards and Best Management Practices.
- Supplemental irrigation shall be provided to trees #44-47 before, during, and after construction.
- Should TPZ encroachment be necessary, the contractor shall contact the PA for consultation and recommendations.
- Should there be a need for additional area to store equipment or supplies, contact the PA to locate areas and provide protection for trees that may be encroached.
- Contractor shall keep TPZs free of all construction-related materials, debris, fill soil, equipment, etc. The only acceptable material is mulch spread out beneath the trees.
- Should any damage to the trees occur, the contractor shall promptly notify the PA to appropriately mitigate the damage.
Landscaping Phase
- TPZ fencing shall remain in place with the same restrictions until landscape contractor notifies and meets with PA.
- Avoid all fill work, grade changes, and trenching within driplines unless it is performed by hand. Pipes shall be threaded under or through large roots (>2”) without damaging them.
- All planting and irrigation shall be kept a minimum of 10’ away from native oaks. All irrigation within the driplines shall be targeted at specific plants, such as drip emitters or bubblers. No overhead irrigation shall occur within the driplines of native oaks.
- All planting within oak driplines shall be compatible with oaks, consisting of plant material that requires little to no water after two years’ establishment. A list of oak-compatible plants can be found in a publication from the California Oak Foundation, available at: http://californiaoaks.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/CompatiblePlantsUnderAroundOaks.pdf
Thank you for the opportunity to provide this report, and please do not hesitate to contact me if there are any questions or concerns.
*Please see attached tree protection plan.*
Sincerely,
Jennifer Tso
Certified Arborist #WE-10270A
Tree Risk Assessor Qualified
STRIPE NOTES:
1. ALL PROPERTY EDGES AND MARRIERS SHALL BE MARKED WITH A 2" DASHED WHITE LINE.
2. FREE CURBING IS TO BE 4" WIDE AND TO BE MARKED WITH A 2" RED LINE.
3. ALL PERPENDICULAR PARKING SPACES TO BE 10' X 15' WITH AND ALTERNATE PARKING SPACES.
4. DIMENSION OF SEATED PERSON PARKING SPACE MAXIMUM SIZE OF EACH PARKING SPACE.
5. DOORS OF PERSON PARKING SPACE WILL BE 36" AND A 36" RISE ON A 1:24 SLOPE.
VEHICLE PROFILE
22.74
4.59 12.47
Fire Truck
feet
Width : 7.71
Track : 7.71
Lock to Lock Time : 6.0
Steering Angle : 47.8
6" Pop Up Emitter with 6" Basin
ELEVATION - 6' & 8' SCREENING WALL AND PIERS
SECTION - 6' SCREENING WALL AND PIER
SECTION - 8' SCREENING WALL AND PIER
NOTE: DETAILS HAVE BEEN SHOWN FOR REFERENCE ONLY. SEE CIVIL DRAWINGS FOR CONSTRUCTION DETAILS AND CALCULATIONS.
TABERNACLE PRESCHOOL - EAST-DENKINGER RD. ELEVATION
SCALE: 1/4" = 1'-0" MAY 23, 2019
MATERIAL SCHEDULE
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>MATERIAL</th>
<th>DESCRIPTION</th>
<th>COLOR</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>BRICK</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>WINDOWS</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>DOORS</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>GUTTERS</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ROOF</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
GRADE
SEE SOUTH-CONCORD BLVD. ELEVATION FOR DETAIL TRASH RECYCLE BICYCLE STORAGE KITCHEN OFFICE ENTRY OFFICE
8' PLATE HT.
7' WINDOW HEAD HT.
DATE: January 23, 2020
I. GENERAL INFORMATION
Project Name: 1679-1691 Willow Pass Road (PL19261 – DR)
Review Status: Preliminary Design Review
Location: 1679-1691 Willow Pass Road
Parcel Number: 126-281-011
General Plan: Downtown Mixed Use
Zoning: DMX (Downtown Mixed Use)
Applicant: Robert Lyman/Johnson Lyman Architects, LLP
1375 Locust St., #202
Walnut Creek, CA 94596
Vicinity Map:
II. PROJECT BACKGROUND
On April 11, 2017, the City adopted the Park and Shop Design Guidelines and Master Sign Program to provide all property owners and tenants a set of design tools for façade improvements.
On December 13, 2019, Robert Lyman of Johnson Lyman Architects, LLP, on behalf of the property owner Sreenivas Ramireddy, submitted a formal design and site development review application with plans (Exhibit A) and a written statement (Exhibit B) reflecting façade improvements, parking modifications and landscaping upgrades for the currently vacant building previously occupied by Payless Shoes and other small shops.
On January 7, 2020, the Development Advisory Committee (DAC) conducted a completeness review of the project and deemed the application incomplete on January 10, 2020.
The Board’s comments will be incorporated into revised plans that will return for Final Design Review approval.
III. PROJECT DESCRIPTION
The project site consists of a 1.23-acre parcel, located in the center of the Park and Shop Shopping Center and bounded by Fry Way to the north and Willow Pass Road to the south. The subject site is developed with a 19,950 square foot building, parking spaces, landscaping near the building and within the parking lot, and a trash enclosure at the rear of the site. The building, which includes a partial second floor, is planned to be divided up into smaller retail tenant spaces ranging from 1,633 – 4,491 square feet and the second floor is planned for office space (5,020 square feet).
Site Plan
The existing building is located on the north half of the parcel with parking for 71 spaces on the south half of the parcel. The project proposes renovations within the existing building footprint. Four storefronts will be created along the south façade and a fifth storefront is planned for a future restaurant or office space accessed from the rear (north façade) of the building. The four storefronts anticipate future retail, a restaurant, personal service or retail, and a restaurant. The restaurant or office on the second floor would be accessed from an elevator and stairwell from a small lobby at the rear of the building. An existing trash enclosure will remain on the north side of the building.
Staff has the following recommendations:
- Relocate bike racks to less busy area away from entries and handicapped ramps, perhaps near landscape bulb at southeast corner of building.
Circulation and Parking
Ingress and egress to the building is proposed via existing sidewalks on the north, east and south sides of the building. The 10-foot wide sidewalk on the north will be replaced with new concrete. The sidewalk on the south side is planned to be replaced, as it is currently in poor condition, and proposed to be expanded to 16 feet wide. As a result, the drive aisle in front of the building would be reduced from 36 feet to 30 feet, which is acceptable for two-way traffic with angled parking. Another 10-foot
wide sidewalk is located along the east side of the building, with five parallel parking spaces located adjacent to the sidewalk, with landscape bulbs located at the northeast and southeast corners of the site. Sidewalks are provided through the landscape bulbs for access to the remainder of the shopping area, Fry Way, and Willow Pass Road.
Modifications to the parking lot are proposed to the parking stalls adjacent to the south building facade. A new van accessible space with a curb ramp is proposed and the remaining spaces would be re-striped to accommodate the new space. Existing curbs, sidewalks, and landscaping are proposed with minor reconfigurations to accommodate new planters, new bike racks, and new curb ramps along the southern edge of the building.
*Park and Shop Guidelines* – The Guidelines require that sidewalks may have to be repaired and brought up to applicable code along with current ADA standards, provided they are within the tenant and/or owner’s control. Staff has the following recommendations:
- Expand proposed site plan to include parking lot intersection to the west and both sides of parking aisle.
**Architecture**
The proposed elevations include updating the existing contemporary architecture with a new aluminum and glass storefront system along the south facade, new plaster on foam trim, new paint, internally illuminated signage on top of the existing canopies and lattices added on the east side of building. Aluminum and glass storefront system on portions of the front and side of the building will remain. New storefronts will be located at three of the four south-facing tenant spaces (1683, 1687 and 1691 Willow Pass Road). New storefront windows are also provided on the north side of the building for the 2,741 sq. ft. space (1683 Willow Pass Rd.) and a new exit door for the 3,382 sq. ft. (1691 Willow Pass Rd), as shown on Sheet A1. Space to provide access out to the service area on the north side of the building. Earth tone colors are proposed including a brown body color (Dunn Edwards - Ancient Earth, DE 6217), a beige color for the second floor as viewed from the south side of the building (Dunn Edwards - Desert Gray, DE 760), and a dark brown trim color (Benjamin Moore - Gargoyle, BM 1546). All awnings will be removed. Signage will be removed. Lattice features will be affixed to the east side of the building for vines that will be planted.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Tenant Space</th>
<th>Sq. Ft.</th>
<th>Access location</th>
<th>Location</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Unit 1</td>
<td>4,491</td>
<td>South side</td>
<td>Ground floor</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Unit 2</td>
<td>2,741</td>
<td>South/North side</td>
<td>Ground floor</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Unit 3</td>
<td>1,968</td>
<td>South side</td>
<td>Ground floor</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Unit 4</td>
<td>3,382</td>
<td>South/North/East side</td>
<td>Ground floor</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Unit 5</td>
<td>1,633</td>
<td>North side</td>
<td>Ground floor</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Unit 6</td>
<td>5,020</td>
<td>North side</td>
<td>2nd floor</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
*Park and Shop Guidelines* – The Guidelines require at a minimum, the removal of unused equipment, outdated light fixtures, awnings and repair work. Minimal improvements include removal of blue awnings with repair to each end of the awning, repair of exposed metal canopies, and the replacement of fluorescent strip lights with appropriate decorative lighting. Unused and unsightly conduit, utilities
and equipment should be removed or concealed. All exterior surfaces should be repaired, patched and painted. The Guidelines also require repair and cleaning of existing storefronts and painting if the finish has deteriorated. Staff has the following recommendations:
- Consider adding horizontal wood panels to improve the texture and visual interest of the south façade, see Guidelines (page 22, Exhibit C).
- Remove and replace the existing outdated canopy, consistent with Guidelines (page 23-24).
- Remove single doors on south façade of 1679 Willow Pass Rd. tenant space and replace with one double door, consistent with other tenant spaces.
- Design should incorporate a more varied roofline. Increase roofline and/or provide additional massing at the corner of Unit 4 to strengthen it visually through the use of a customized canopy, awning, or tower (see page 14 of Guidelines).
- Consider incorporating a colorful panel on the east elevation above the northern canopy using the sample accent colors on page 29 of the Guidelines.
- Rooftop equipment, if visible, shall be screened.
**Landscaping**
Existing landscaped planters, adjacent to the southern perimeter of the building, would be replanted with Blue Fescue and Fortnight lilies. Additional landscaping will be provided within the two existing landscaped planters located on the northeast and southeast corners of the building to include Mat Rush, Dwarf Flax, and Dwarf Bottlebrush. The two existing Maple trees would remain, but one of the two existing Sweet Gum trees would be removed.
*Park and Shop Guidelines* – The Guidelines encourage planters or in-ground landscaping to offer comfort to diners. Outdoor seating is encouraged and should be located near the path of travel but sheltered for privacy with railings or other forms of semi-enclosure that does not conflict with existing sidewalks, such as with planters. Guidelines also require screening of trash enclosures with attractive fences, landscaping or trellis features.
Staff has the following comments and recommendations:
- Replace the Sweetgum tree planned to be removed at southeast corner of building with a new Sweetgum.
- Encourage identification of outdoor eating area for corner (Unit 4) tenant space (See page 56 of Guidelines) and incorporate enclosure treatment.
- Provide additional metal lattice with Carolina Jasmine vines on the east side of the building to provide rhythm and additional texture to the building.
- Provide screening of trash enclosure, utilizing any of the concepts from the Guidelines (page 32), with decorative features, landscaping, and paint that is similar to the building.
**Signage and Lighting**
The proposed plans reflect edge signs (internally illuminated) on top of the existing canopy for each of the retail tenants located along the southern façade. In addition, an edge sign is shown on the northern façade for the second floor office tenant. No signage is reflected on the east elevation. These are the
only signs proposed for the site. The application indicates that specific signage will be submitted at a later date, as tenants are selected.
No lighting, existing or proposed, is indicated on the plans for the building at the site, but the written statement indicates that new under-canopy lighting will be provided to illuminate the sidewalks.
*Park and Shop Guidelines* – The Guidelines require at a minimum, the removal of unused equipment, outdated light fixtures, signage and repair work. Minimal improvements include replacement of fluorescent strip lights with appropriate decorative lighting. Signage should be updated as part of minimal improvements. Unused and unsightly conduit, utilities and equipment should be removed or concealed. All exterior surfaces should be repaired, patched and painted.
Staff has the following comments and recommendations:
- Provide exterior wall sconces on pilasters to improve lighting on the front, side and rear of the building to improve its visual appeal, consistent with the Guidelines (page 28).
- Provide under canopy signage for tenant spaces, consistent with the Guidelines (page 47).
- Incorporate signage for Unit 5 (office or restaurant space) on East and North Elevations. Incorporate signage for Unit 4 on East Elevation.
- Signage on Units 1 and 4 should be centered over storefront, not two individual signs as shown, and designed consistent with the Park and Shop Master Sign Program.
- Blade signs should be incorporated on upper pilasters to identify the office entry at the rear of site, consistent with the Guidelines (page 49).
**IV. RECOMMENDED ACTION**
Staff recommends the Board review the plans, consider the recommendations discussed in this report, identify any additional issues, and provide the applicant with comments for incorporation into the final project design for the Board’s review.
Prepared by:
Joan Ryan
Community Reuse Area Planner
(925) 671-3370
Joan.ryan@cityofconcord.org
Exhibits:
- Project plans, date-stamped received December 13, 2019
- Written statement, date-stamped received December 13, 2019
- Excerpts from the Guidelines pages, 14, 22-24, 28-29, 32, 47-49, 56.
RECOMMENDED PLANT LIST
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>SPECIES</th>
<th>COMMON NAME</th>
<th>HABIT</th>
<th>COMMENTS</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>CEDAR</td>
<td>Slash</td>
<td>Vertical</td>
<td>Low</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PINUS</td>
<td>White Pine</td>
<td>Dura</td>
<td>Low</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>TULIP</td>
<td>Tulip Tree</td>
<td>Flora</td>
<td>Low</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>LAUREL</td>
<td>Laurel</td>
<td>Spire</td>
<td>Low</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>BERRY</td>
<td>Wild Berry</td>
<td>Spire</td>
<td>Low</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
GENERAL NOTES:
1. ALL PLANTING SHALL BE WATERED BY EXISTING FULLY AUTOMATIC, WATER-SAVING IRRIGATION SYSTEM.
2. ALL PROPOSED PLANTING AREAS SHALL RECEIVE A 2" DEEP LAYER OF GRANITE GRUNGE TO MATCH EXISTING THROUGHOUT RETAIL CENTER.
3. TOTAL PROPOSED LANDSCAPE AREA IS 1,200 SQ. FT.
EXISTING CONCRETE PAVING
FUTURE RETAIL
FUTURE RESTAURANT
FUTURE PERSONAL SERVICE ON RETAIL
FUTURE RESTAURANT
EXISTING LONDON PLANTER
AND FORTNIGHT LILIES TO REMAIN (RECENTLY PLANTED)
EXISTING TREE TO REMAIN
(10 FT CALIPER SWARTZMILL)
REMOVED TREE TO REMAIN
(9 FT CALIPER SWARTZMILL)
REMOVE EXISTING ORNAMENTAL
SLEDGES IN 1/2 FT EACH BURIED
BELOW GRADE
REFER TO SHEET L2 FOR WELD CALCULATIONS AND PLANT IMAGES
PLANT IMAGES
CALLISTEMON 'LITTLE JOHN'
DIETES BICOLOR
FESTUCA 'ELIJAH BLUE'
GELSEMIUM VINES
LOMANDRA 'SEA BREEZE'
PHORMIUM 'DUET'
WELO CALCULATIONS
WATER EFFICIENT LANDSCAPE WORKSHEET
REFERENCE EVAPOTRANSPIRATION (ET0): 43.3
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>PLANT</th>
<th>PLANT</th>
<th>IRRIGATION METHOD</th>
<th>STAP</th>
<th>LANDSCAPE AREA (sq ft)</th>
<th>TOTAL LANDSCAPE AREA (sq ft)</th>
<th>ESTIMATED WATER USAGE (HT/yr)</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>CALLISTEMON</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>1,320.00</td>
<td>473.34</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>DIETES BICOLOR</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>1,320.00</td>
<td>473.34</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>FESTUCA 'ELIJAH BLUE'</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>1,320.00</td>
<td>473.34</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>GELSEMIUM VINES</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>1,320.00</td>
<td>473.34</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>LOMANDRA 'SEA BREEZE'</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>1,320.00</td>
<td>473.34</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PHORMIUM 'DUET'</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>4.3</td>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>1,320.00</td>
<td>473.34</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
TOTALS: 10,200.00
STAP: Total: 13,073
MAXIMUM ALLOWED WATER ALLOWANCE (AMAX): 16,180
STAP CALCULATIONS:
REGULAR LANDSCAPE AREAS:
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>TOTAL STAP AREA</th>
<th>ET0</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>0.6</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
STAP: 0.56
OVERSTAP: 0.04
ALL LANDSCAPE AREAS:
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>TOTAL STAP AREA</th>
<th>ET0</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>0.6</td>
<td>0.6</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
STAP: 0.56
OVERSTAP: 0.04
NOTE: AVERAGED STAP FOR REGULAR LANDSCAPE AREAS MUST BE 0.6 OR BELOW FOR RESIDENTIAL AREAS AND 0.4 OR BELOW FOR NON-RESIDENTIAL AREAS.
Building Remodel
Park ‘N Shop
1679-1691 Willow Pass Rd, Concord
Project Description
The existing 2 story commercial building is approximately 15,000 sq on the ground floor and 4,950 2nd floor. The building is assumed to have been constructed in the 1960’s and is of concrete tilt-up wall construction with plywood roof supported by metal bar joists and steel beams. The building is currently vacant awaiting the renovation before re-tenanting.
The proposed modifications include the following exterior changes:
1. New aluminum and glass storefront system at the building front. At the building rear (facing Frys) there are two tenant spaces that will also receive new storefronts.
2. The building façade will receive foam trim pieces that provide some visual break-up of the concrete tilt-up panels. We’re showing a corriole trim and pilasters to create shadow relief. The building will also be repainted.
3. Along the building side, there are new 2 lattices proposed to soften the façade as there aren’t as many storefront windows to provide relief.
4. The front sidewalk will be expanded about 6’ into the parking lot. This reduces the drive aisle width from about 36’ to 30’ which is still quite wide for 2 way traffic. The front sidewalk will be replaced as it is currently in poor condition.
5. We’re adding a new van accessible parking stall at the front parking area and several new planters to break-up the concrete flatwork. The existing planter at the crosswalks to the east will also be re-constructed and re-planted.
6. Rear sidewalk will be replaced with new concrete and the existing rear planter will be re-furbished with new landscaping.
7. The existing 2nd floor will receive a new access lobby on the ground floor with a new elevator and stairs. The 2nd floor will likely become single or multi-tenant office space.
8. Building will receive new under-canopy lighting to illuminate the exterior sidewalks.
9. In the near future (under separate permit) there will be tenant improvements for retail, restaurant and office tenants.
10. Tenant Signage will be submitted separately
Pilaster
Pilasters are columns between storefronts that create a vertical rhythm and allow different tenant storefronts to be distinguished from each other.
Corner Features
Corner buildings could have special features that enhance the corner and encourage shoppers to move around the corner and throughout the center. Such features could be customized canopies, awnings or towers.
Arcades
Arcades can create a quality shopping experience for the pedestrian while providing shade and weather protection. Arcades also provide gathering places, areas for outdoor merchandise display and outdoor dining. They must be well lit at night. The columns of an arcade must not block the views of the storefronts.
Variation in roof lines
Special corner feature (tower)
STOREFRONT DESIGN
Storefront Examples
Minimal Example: Tiled recessed entry with painted wainscot
Moderate and Major Example: Painted storefront with integrated lighting, pin mounted letters
Major Example: Wood panels increase perceived storefront height
Moderate and Major Example: Playful string lights and dramatic tile contrast with the simple wood storefront
OVERHANG DESIGN
A variety of overhangs are possible at Park & Shop. Overhangs protect the tenant from excessive heat gain or sun damage without blocking the visibility of the storefront. They shelter pedestrians from the elements, and are typically required by the applicable CalGreen Code.
Canopies
Canopies are horizontal overhangs suspended or cantilevered from the façade above a storefront. Though they are primarily horizontal, the top surface of the canopy should be sloped slightly to allow for drainage.
In addition to allowing for weather and sun protection, canopies are an ideal location for edge signs. They may be supported from above or below and may also be constructed below a transom window as a 'light shelf' to help reflect natural light deeper into a store than would be accomplished by a transom window alone.
Materials
Metal, wood, perforated screens, glass, or high quality plastics are acceptable materials for canopies. Where wood is used, new material resistant to checking, warping and rotting is allowed. Painted finishes should be durable and resistant to cracking, peeling, and fading. Fabric canopies, which are subject to puddling water on their top surface, are not recommended unless a perforated fabric is use.
Dimensional Requirements
No part of a canopy may be less than 8'-0" height above the sidewalk.
Canopy Examples
- Metal and glass canopies add a contemporary appearance
- Canopies add attractive weather and sun protection
- Horizontal wooden slats create interesting shadows
- A combination of materials may be used
EXTERIOR LIGHTING
Exterior lighting on a building façade, arcade or interior street or pathway must provide adequate light levels for safety. Exterior lighting can be both dramatic and effective. Proper lighting encourages customer activity during evening hours.
- New fixtures must be attractive and high quality.
- Wall packs and strip fluorescent fixtures are not allowed.
- All light fixtures and installation of light fixtures shall comply with U.L. requirements. U.L. labels shall not be visible to the public.
- Time clocks or photocells shall be provided. Lights shall remain on until 11:00 PM.
A good color scheme can add vitality to an otherwise simple architectural design. The uniformity of the blue and white color scheme at Park and Shop creates a monotonous atmosphere and makes it difficult for customers to establish their location within the center. A varied color scheme helps to establish landmarks throughout the Center.
Care shall be taken to establish color schemes that are contemporary, yet will not quickly become outdated.
The color schemes on this page are examples. Building owners and tenants are not obligated to use these colors and do not need to change existing color schemes, but if a new color scheme is used it should be compatible with surrounding context.
LOADING DOCK & TRASH SCREEN EXAMPLES
Gates can be decorative
Clean, landscaped loading dock
Screening with attractive fences or landscaping.
Decorative fence
SUSPENDED SIGNS
Unique and iconographic suspended signs can serve as identifying markers and can be seen as a work of art. They are a great way for a store to express some personality, whether it be classic and sophisticated, sleek and contemporary, or whimsical and fun.
Suspended signs are important identifying markers. These signs bring signage down to a pedestrian scale and are often the only signage visible.
Tenants are allowed a maximum of one suspended sign per public entry.
Suspended signs can be located perpendicular to the façade, under an awning or overhang. The bracket should be designed as part of the sign and enhances the design. A suspended sign must be located where it will not interfere with the visibility of a neighboring tenant’s sign or storefront.
**Lighting**
Suspended signs may be internally illuminated using halo illumination, push through acrylic, or back lit routed lettering. Exposed neon may be allowed, provided a limited amount of neon is used and the sign is unique and carefully designed. Individual channel letters or illuminated sign boxes are not permitted. If externally illuminated, the light source should be directed upward from below, or shielded to prevent ‘spill over light’ from glare for pedestrians. Conduits should be concealed.
SUSPENDED SIGNS
Materials
Suspended signs and brackets may be constructed of:
• Metal
• Acrylic
• Graphic film
• Wood
• Glass
• Other high quality durable materials
Dimensional Requirements
A sign suspended from high overhead should have clearance that is proportional to the height. Suspended signs shall be minimum 1” thick.
BLADE SIGNS
Blade signs are identifying markers and can be seen as a work of art as well as signage. They are a great way for a store to express some personality, whether it be classic and sophisticated, sleek and contemporary, or whimsical and fun.
Wall mounted blade signs are located perpendicular to the façade. They can be supported by a bracket attached to a wall or a pilaster. The bracket should be designed as part of the sign, and enhance the sign design. Tenants are allowed blade signs on a case by case basis. A blade sign must be located where it will not interfere with the visibility or function of a neighboring tenant’s sign or storefront.
Lighting
Blade signs may be internally illuminated using halo illumination, push through acrylic lettering, or back lit routed lettering. Exposed neon may be allowed, provided a limited amount of neon is used and the sign is unique and carefully designed. Individual channel letters or illuminated sign boxes are not permitted. If externally illuminated, the light source should be directed upward from below, or shielded to prevent to ‘spill over light’ from glare for pedestrians. Conduits should be concealed.
Materials
Wall mounted blade signs may be constructed of metal, acrylic, graphic film, wood, glass and other high quality durable materials.
Dimensional Requirements
Sign height may depend on the design of the building and location of the sign. Blade signs shall be a minimum 1” thick.
Blade Sign Diagram
Internally lit push through acrylic letters
Three dimensional iconography
Exposed neon
It is encouraged to make improvements in common areas, and the language below are suggestions. This section is not required as part of façade or signage improvements. All work in the common areas must be approved by the Park & Shop owners Association and the City.
Outdoor dining patios are further enhancements that are encouraged as part of overall improvements. This section is not required as part of facade or signage improvements.
Restaurants and other food tenants are encouraged to create outdoor seating areas to bring life and activity to the center. If outdoor seating areas are sought, they should be placed where customers can both see and be seen. Diners often enjoy 'people watching' while they eat. Outdoor dining is good advertisement for restaurants.
Seating should be located near the path of travel, yet sheltered slightly for privacy. This can be accomplished by raising the level of the eating area slightly from the sidewalk, or through the use of a railing or other form of semi-enclosure provided no conflict with existing sidewalks, including accessibility, is created. Permanent railings may not be used to define eating areas because of Park and Shop Center's cross access easements. They should be located on the building side of the sidewalk, to provide greater shelter from vehicular traffic. Landscape buffers such as planters or in-ground landscaping offer comfort to diners.
Outdoor dining furniture shall be durable and attractive. Umbrellas provide shade, color and even a location for tenant logos or tag lines. |
skylight
skylight
Contents
Executive Summary__________________________1
Introduction to Enclos Technology____________3
Service and Technology____________________4
Structural Glass Facades and Enclosures____6
Vocabulary of Transparency_______________8
Research and Development_______________10
Case Studies
51 Louisiana_____________________________12
Station Place_____________________________18
Strength of Geometry______________________22
San Jose Civic Center______________________24
Casting Process__________________________28
Shure Headquarters________________________30
Orlando International Airport______________34
Las Vegas US Courthouse___________________36
NYU Kimmel______________________________38
86th Street Canopy________________________42
Metropolitan Museum of Art________________41
Deloitte Building_________________________42
Marriott Canopy__________________________44
Glass Umbrella___________________________46
Enclos can provide complete turnkey solutions to your most challenging facade requirements, regardless of size, complexity, product or building program considerations. We are highly experienced in the varied special conditions involving commercial construction, ranging from design through site installation, and including both BIM and LEED qualifications.
Glass in overhead applications brings special opportunities and equally special considerations. Among its predominant exterior wall applications, Enclos has produced a great many novel, fully-glazed overhead structures: skylights and glass roofs. The focus has been on expressive structural systems and long span applications. The opportunity to flood interior spaces with natural light not only enlivens the enclosed space, but the increased daylight levels can lead to significant reductions in energy consumption from artificial lighting and the reduction of the accompanying heating loads.
The solar heat gain resulting from a large horizontal glass exposure can easily offset any gain in energy efficiency from daylighting, however. It is important to understand and explore the active and passive tools at the designers disposal to balance the often conflicting attributes of natural light and solar heat gain. Passive design considerations include siting and orientation of the glass structure, as well as other factors related to the solar geometry of the skylight or glass roof design. Interior or exterior louver and shading systems can be incorporated into the design to reduce glare and direct solar penetration at key times of the day.
Glass technology presents another set of variables to consider. Glass makeup can be a powerful ally in the control of unwanted solar heat gain. Thin-film glass coatings, such as the now ubiquitous low-e coatings, can improve the thermal performance of glass quite significantly. Glass body tints, PVB interlayers, and ceramic frits applied to a glass surface can all be used separately in combination to fine tune glass performance to a specific application. Building integrated photovoltaic systems and other emerging technology hold the promise of turning building skins into energy producers — facade system power plants. Smart materials and control systems can integrate the skylight or glass roof with other building systems. Enclos can assist in the effective analysis of these many variables with respect to any specific application.
The backbone of any custom skylight or glass roof system, however, will be the structural system developed to support the facade enclosure, and that is the focus of this document. We have included select examples of the many projects we have been involved with over the years involving the use of glass in overhead applications, glass constructs with a unique and singular attribute: skylight.
Introduction to Enclos Technology
Enclos is expert in the design, engineering, fabrication, assembly and erection of custom curtainwall systems and structural glass facades, providing complete design/build services to the construction marketplace.
We specialize in innovative architecture and challenging building projects. No project is too large, no building site too difficult for our seasoned operations teams. Our work experience includes many projects with specialized materials, complex geometry, and innovative structural and mechanical system designs. Enclos curtainwall and facade systems incorporate state-of-the-art materials and performance.
The attributes most appreciated by our clients however are our site management capabilities and our track record of meeting demanding project schedules.
The integration of glass and structure is a predominant attribute of this expressive building form, often employed to maximize transparency in large public spaces. Enclos has played a leadership role in the development and application of this cutting-edge technology, including a range of structure types:
- cable nets
- cable trusses
- long-span truss systems
- grid shells
- spaceframes
- all-glass structures
Our glazing systems include point-fixed types in both bolted and clamped versions, as well as framed system types, all custom designed in response to specific project requirements. For more information see the section titled, Structural Glass Facades and Enclosures.
Managing the project delivery process is the core strength of Enclos, something at which we excel beyond all our competition. This capability provides us consistent control over the vital requirements of schedule, quality and cost, and allows us to consistently deliver top quality economically and on time. This capability is the basis for our many long term relationships with developers, general contractors and architects.
Each new project undertaken by Enclos is treated as unique, and a custom delivery strategy is developed in direct response to the singular set of considerations presented by the project. This custom strategy however, is developed through a uniform process unique to Enclos that embraces the spectrum of activities from preconstruction through design, engineering, procurement, fabrication, assembly, and erection. This process, developed and refined through the successful completion of hundreds of remarkably diverse facade and curtainwall installations, serves to mitigate the inherent risk of a challenging building project by enhancing the predictability of performance, schedule and cost.
Service and Technology
Managing the project delivery process is the core strength of Enclos, something at which we excel beyond all our competition. This capability provides us consistent control over the vital requirements of schedule, quality and cost, and allows us to consistently deliver top quality economically and on time. This capability is the basis for our many long term relationships with developers, general contractors and architects.
Each new project undertaken by Enclos is treated as unique, and a custom delivery strategy is developed in direct response to the singular set of considerations presented by the project. This custom strategy is developed through a uniform process unique to Enclos that embraces the spectrum of activities from preconstruction through design, engineering, procurement, fabrication, assembly, and erection. This process, developed and refined through the successful completion of hundreds of remarkably diverse facade and curtainwall installations, serves to mitigate the inherent risk of a challenging building project by enhancing the predictability of performance, schedule and cost.
Design and Engineering
The foundation of a successful facade or curtainwall project is innovative system design and engineering. Our D&E group develops custom solutions to each new project, derived from a robust framework of Enclos technology and know-how. Design considerations range from the aesthetic and performance requirements determined in collaboration with the architect, to the fabrication and installation requirements that must be anticipated by the system design to assure a successful project completion.
An in-house team of engineers, architects and designers over 100 strong comprise the Design and Engineering Group at Enclos Corp, representing a unique talent pool that has consistently delivered innovative, effective and elegant solutions to the most demanding building facade requirements. Autocad, Inventor, Revit, Space Gass, Strand 7, FloVENT CFD, are among the many tools that comprise our design development process. Building Information Modeling (BIM) is another service we provide our clients.
Project Management
Project management is an empowered function at Enclos Corp, and key to our success. Personnel skilled and experienced in project management are vital to the success of any construction project. Our project management teams lead design development, production engineering, fabrication and assembly, and field operations, bridging these various activities to form an organized, unified continuum of project development throughout the design and build process. Enclos project management personnel receive extensive training and years of on-the-job experience before being appointed to the position and entrusted with the responsibility of running their own projects.
Our people understand the critical importance to a building project of on-time, on-budget performance, a fact which our past clients can best attest to. We will happily provide you with such references.
Curtainwall fabrication and assembly is a critically important part of the project development process. Enclos Corp maintains dedicated manufacturing operations in key geographic locations capable of providing fabrication services for the most complex designs and the most challenging project schedules. Our facilities incorporate state-of-the-art equipment and processes for curtainwall unit fabrication and assembly. In addition, to provide adequate capacity for the fluctuating demands typical of the building marketplace, we have developed a network of outside fabrication sources, all of whom have been rigorously trained and qualified in all aspects of Enclos systems materials, fabrication and assembly, and all of whom have successfully provided services on prior Enclos projects.
Design or material supply problems surfacing in manufacturing are a frustrating and costly annoyance; design or manufacturing problems surfacing on the building site are a disaster. There is far too much at stake in the building process to settle for anything less than top quality and the programs that consistently deliver it. Effective quality programs garner the participation of everyone in the organization from top to bottom while reaching throughout the web of company operations and activities. We have developed and refined our quality assurance and quality control programs over the span of many years and hundreds of diverse project experiences, another way that our deep experience works for you. These programs are robust and all embracing, ranging from management systems and procedures to the minutia of in-line quality verification processes. In addition, we develop a specific quality plan for each new project based on an analysis that identifies and accounts for any unique aspect of the project whether it be material type, location, site condition, performance requirement or design detail.
Enclos has been awarded many of its projects over its competitors because of its reputation for performance on the building site.
Everyone involved in the construction process knows the critical importance of the building site, the playing-field for the contracting teams. This is where the myriad complexities of a construction project converge and coalesce into architecture. The building site must be a particular focus for systems such as the building skin where a large part of the process takes place off site; design, engineering, fabrication and assembly all precede the delivery of material to the site and the commencement of field installation. Yet the site is where all must come together. These preceding activities must be accomplished with a keen eye to the site, anticipating unique site-specific requirements and developing effective installation strategy to assure an efficient and effective performance.
Field operations are a core strength of Enclos Corp, and the attribute for which we are most widely recognized by the building community.
A new facade technology has emerged over the past three decades driven by the pursuit of transparency in architecture among leading international building designers.
This new technology has evolved primarily in long-span applications of approximately 20 feet and over, and can be categorized by the various structural systems employed as support. New glazing systems are also a part of this emergent technology, with the various point-fixed systems finding most frequent use.
Recognizing the importance of structural glass facade technology, Enclos took action to acquire the technology and expertise required to play a leadership role in implementing and further developing this innovative technology in the US marketplace. As a result, we are now providing complete in-house services for both the curtainwall and structural glass facade areas of the building skin, all as a single-source package backed by the deep technical and financial resources of a national specialty contractor.
Characteristics of structural glass facade technology include: highly crafted and exposed structural systems with long-spanning capacity, integration of structure and form, simultaneous dematerialization and celebration of structure, complex geometries, extensive use of tensile elements, specialized materials and processes, an integration of structure and cladding system, and a complex array of design variables ranging from facade transparency to thermal performance and bomb blast considerations.
Frei Otto developed and popularized cable nets as a structural system in the 1960s and 70s. Architect Helmut Jahn with engineering firm Schlaich Bergermann applied the technology in a most innovative manner as a flat cable net supported glass facade for the Kempinski Hotel in Munich, circa 1992, fueling widespread interest in this structural form in glass facade applications.
Cable nets represent the ultimate in elegant minimalist structural systems and can provide optimum transparency when the effect of a sheer glass membrane is desired. The glass is supported by a net geometry of pre-tensioned cables. Designs can be flat, or the net can be pulled into double-curvature. A clamping component locks the cables together at their vertices and fixes the glass to the net. Large pre-stress loads in the net structures require the early involvement of the facade design/build team with the building engineer.
Another minimalist structural system is that of cable trusses. While cable trusses can vary widely in both truss design and configuration with vertical, overhead, vaulted and domed forms easily achieved, the trusses themselves are most often characterized by spreader strut elements representing the only compression members in the structural system. As with cable nets, these systems rely on the pre-tensioning of truss elements to provide stability, and thus benefit significantly from the early involvement of the facade design/build team.
Grid Shell structural systems are another means to minimize the visual mass of structure. Configurations can be vaulted, domed and double-curved. Systems can be welded, bolt-up, or some combination of each. Grid shell structures with integrated cable bracing can produce a highly efficient structure with a refined aesthetic. Cable pre-tensioning may be required on such systems. Grid shells can be used in vertical and overhead applications, as well as to form complete building enclosures.
This is the earliest form of structural glass facade dating back to the 1950s and the French Hahn system used at the Maison de la Radio in Paris in 1953. Here 2-story glass plates were suspended and laterally stiffened by the use of glass fins set perpendicular to the plates at the vertical joints between them. This technology was popularized by the Willis Faber & Dumas Building, Ipswich, England circa 1972. In this curving facade designed by Foster Associates, multiple plates of reflective glass are suspended to provide one of the first examples of an entire building facade in frameless glass. This project inspired a diffusion of glass fin technology in numerous applications throughout Europe and America starting in the 1970s and continuing today. Glass fin-supported facades still represent one of the most transparent forms of structural glass facades and an economical solution especially at lower spans.
Enclos provides custom fin-supported facade designs for any application.
Glass facades are comprised of a glass system supported by some form of structural system (except glass fin-supported walls in which the glass is hung and braced laterally with fins). As the pursuit of transparency is a frequent reason for the use of structural glass facade technology, point-fixed (frameless) glass systems are most often integrated into the facade design. These can be systems where the glass is perforated and bolted or non-perforated and clamped. Such systems typically provide optimum transparency and design elegance. However, the structural systems employed in structural glass facades can easily be designed to accommodate any type of glass system. In some applications framed systems can provide certain practical or economical advantage.
Enclos is capable of developing and providing any type of custom glazing system for structural glass facade applications.
In addition to the glass and structural systems that comprise structural glass facade technology are the components that in turn comprise these systems, components quite unlike those typically used in exterior wall systems. The use of tensile elements in the form of steel cables and rods is a primary design strategy to dematerialize the structure and enhance the transparency of a facade design. Compression elements are frequently minimized or eliminated, and where present are crafted from cast and machined components in an elegant expression of exposed structure. The fittings and components that tie these structural members together are similarly crafted. An entirely different set of material and process considerations come into play.
The Enclos design team has mastered these materials and processes as a necessary prerequisite to their appropriate application in component design. We can develop and provide custom designs of remarkable diversity in response to your particular project needs. Where appropriate, we can also source off-the-shelf components from a variety of suppliers, all carefully qualified to Enclos Corp standards and subject to our uncompromising quality assurance program. All this, from concept design through installation, as part of a single-source package from the largest national specialist in structural glass facade technology.
Bridge builder and engineer John A. Roebling first manufactured wire rope in America in the 1840’s. These materials ultimately found their way into the vernacular of architecture through such stunning works as Mathew Nowicki’s Dorton Arena of 1952 and the Ingalls Rink at Yale University of 1958 designed by Eero Saarinen. Structural glass facade technology has embraced these tensile materials as a means to minimize the structural profile of the support system. Wire rope composition, material type, finish, and end terminations are all important considerations in specifying these materials, which are available from a relatively limited number of manufacturers and specialty fabricators. Enclos Corp has put many of these manufacturers through its rigorous qualification process, resulting in several exceptional vendor/partners that have successfully provided materials on various structural glass facade projects that we have completed in recent years.
The use of steel rods as a substitute for cable in the design of structural glass facades was a practice borrowed from the yacht racing industry, and popularized in the Louvre Pyramid designed by IM Pei. The rods are most commonly fabricated from ASTM A316 stainless steel because of the material’s combination of strength and corrosion resistance. In high load applications or when super thin profiles are desired, there are other higher strength stainless options. The rod terminations are often custom designed and can be quite refined, with the intent of minimizing or eliminating any exposed threads, turnbuckle or other tensioning mechanism. Rod fabrication typically involves slipping the end fittings over the rod and upsetting the rod ends through a process called cold-heading. Alternately, equally elegant threaded fittings have also been developed. Depending upon the design of the structure, cable systems can have significant advantages over rod systems, particularly with respect to cost. However, some feel that the refined appearance of a rod system is worth a premium cost.
Casting is an ancient process with a longtime role in the construction industry, including the naming of a “cast-iron architecture” during the industrial revolution resulting from a dramatic increase in the availability of low cost cast materials. Castings were much later used to spectacular affect in the gerberettes and other components for the Center Pompidou by architects Rogers and Piano. The casting of structural components however, demands a high level expertise in both the design and fabrication process. Cast nodes for the space frame structure on the Javits Convention Center in New York were famously discovered during construction to contain cracks, requiring the disassembly of nearly half the structure and a project delay of nearly two years. While most of the castings utilized in structural glass facades are glass-fixing components of stainless steel, such as the “spider” fittings that attaché point-fixed glass to the supporting structure, many options exist in both material and process depending upon the component size, design and application.
In many respects, structural glass facade technology is more closely akin to the automotive industry than it is to conventional construction. Spider fittings are about as far from the brick as a building component can be. Structural glass facades are highly engineered structures built to very high tolerances. There is also an important visual aspect to the components because of their use in exposed structural systems. Despite a widespread pursuit of facade transparency, many designers choose to express this exposed structure in dramatic fashion, sometimes even at the expense of ultimate transparency. These factors and considerations make the use of machined components a frequent and effective choice. We design custom components or specify off-the-shelf parts as appropriate, and source both from our network of vendor/partners.
Enclos Corp is known for providing technically superior exterior wall systems at competitive prices, and in fact this is one of our core commitments to our clients. We achieve this through a progressive ongoing program of research and development. This program has resulted in continuous refinements to our core systems, as well as yielding new system designs with improved performance attributes. The bulk of the current R&D program falls within the following categories:
Security design and blast-resistant facade technology is a particular expertise of Enclos, demonstrated by a portfolio of completed projects meeting the most demanding security requirements, including many federal courthouse projects. Security Design remains an ongoing focus of our R&D program.
Our security and blast-resistant technology is discussed in the pages immediately following.
Rising energy costs and the energy performance of the nation’s buildings have become predominant concerns. While the thermal performance of a curtainwall building skin is primarily dictated by the thermal properties of the glass makeup or panel cladding material, Enclos has focused its R&D effort on the performance of the framing system to both determine behavior and identify opportunities for improvement. The result has been thermal enhancements to existing systems as well as the development of premium systems with improved thermal performance.
In addition, our project work includes innovative dual-skin facades and cavity wall systems featuring the state-of-the-art in energy performance. We have in-house mechanical engineering capability and computational fluid dynamic analytical technology to assist in the design of these advanced wall and enclosure systems.
We have recently crossed an important threshold in the evolution of civilization. For the first time in history, the majority of earth’s people reside within our urban cities. This is reflected in the increasing density of these urban areas and evidenced by the many residential tower projects which have sprung up in cities around the world. Along with the increasing density has come escalating noise pollution. These factors have combined to produce a growing concern among developers, architects and building occupants regarding the acoustical performance of urban habitats.
In recognition of this, Enclos launched an R&D initiative intended to identify the key variables in the acoustical performance of its facade and curtainwall systems. The program involved testing inter-story as well as outside-to-inside acoustical behavior, and has resulted in refinements to basic systems as well as new premium curtainwall framing systems with superior acoustical performance.
Enclos facade and curtainwall systems are of known and proven performance, having been tried and tested in numerous mockups and hundreds of custom building applications over many years. They have consistently conformed to required specifications for water penetration and air infiltration, as well as other demanding specification requirements. However, increasing urban density, rising fuel costs, and concerns over rapid climate change are resulting in escalating demands on the performance of the building skin. Anticipating this trend, Enclos has been hard at work developing new facade and curtainwall systems with improved behavior in all key areas of performance. We are confident that we can and will continue to provide technically superior systems at competitive prices.
Testing is a key component of any R&D program. Testing activities as part of the Enclos program have involved explosive testing on blast-resistant designs, structural testing to hurricane wind loads, acoustical and thermal testing, and many others. In addition, most of our custom curtainwall designs for particular building projects require some program of mockup testing, and we have performed many dozens of such tests over the years.
Enclos Corp has its own dedicated in-house test facility augmented by several major certified testing facilities across the nation. The later facilities are used when special capabilities are needed and independent confirmation of performance is a requirement.
51 Louisiana
Washington, DC
owner Dweck Properties
architect Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners / HKS
gc Clark Construction Group
facade consultant Curtainwall Design Consulting
completion 2009
program 10-story glass enclosed atrium
building type office
facade design/build program for entire atrium enclosure
description a 10-story glass enclosed atrium with exposed structure creates a dramatic public space and ties 2 adjacent office buildings together
51 Louisiana and 300 New Jersey Avenue is a state-of-the-art office building project in Washington, D.C., located just one block from the U.S. Capitol. The project includes the construction of a new glass-enclosed office building that will serve as an extension of two existing office buildings, all connected by the new centerpiece atrium.
Enclos was responsible for the challenging facade program that encloses the new 10-story atrium space. A yellow tree-like steel construct provides the atrium structure, supports a trapezoidal flying roof of glass, and carries exposed HVAC and other building system components. Multiple levels of skybridges tie the complex together. As all structure and systems are exposed, the highest level of craftsmanship was required for every aspect of the project. The project is the first office building by London-based Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners and Pritzker Prize winning Principal Richard Rogers.
LEED Silver certification is expected for the project, and its sustainable features include a green roof and treatment of water from the atrium in the existing building’s storm-water processing system.
1. The vertical wall is 90’ tall by 40’ wide
2. Stainless steel tension rods tie back to primary structure to stabilize the wall structure
3, 4. The yellow truss supports the skylight roof
The wall that forms the entry to the new complex climbs vertically over 90 feet and then slopes back nearly 14 feet to join the glass roof. The entire wall is hung from above, with a series of suspended horizontal trusses providing the minimal structure. Point fixings tie the glass to the trusses at the end of 2-foot truss armatures. Spring connections at the base and sides of the wall accommodate movement under design loading.
The skylight is a low ridge and furrow design covering 12,500 square feet in plan area. The glass module is approximately 4 feet by 12 feet and incorporates a full perimeter supported insulated-laminated glass panel with a ceramic frit and low-e coating.
The glass enclosure actually ties together three separate buildings of different construction and constructed during different time periods when building practices and code requirements varied. The result is considerably different movement behavior between...
them during design loading. Of course, even identical buildings will not move in phase when subject to identical loading conditions. The Enclos team built a 3-D digital model of the glass enclosure and surrounding buildings as a tool for studying the relative building movement. The intent was to develop a design for the roof and wall that could fully accommodate these movements with an efficient and minimal structure. A high level of transparency combined with a minimal but expressive structure was particularly important in the design of the glass wall.
Rather than designing to limit movement, the structure is designed to accommodate it. Spring mechanisms were designed into the structural system that allows the structure to absorb relatively high deflections and relative building movement without inducing high compressive stresses into the structural components. A network of stainless steel rods are used to stabilize the top of the wall.
Clark Construction, with 40 subcontractors and an average of 200 site workers each day, constructed the project over a 3-year period. Space was very limited on the dense urban site, and office buildings immediately adjacent to the site were operational throughout construction. An Enclos project management and site operations team worked closely with Clark and other subcontractors to assure optimum site logistics and minimal disruption to nearby building occupants.
Key to the success of the complex installation of the glass enclosure was a system for the glass wall and skylight that embraced the requirements for installation in its varied design. The skylight roof system, for example, was constructed in fully glazed subassemblies off-site. The skylight system was designed with a split-beam structural element running in the primary spanning direction. Ladder frames were assembled under factory-controlled conditions into 12-foot wide sections up to 48 feet in length. The finished sections were stacked on flatbed semi-trailers and shipped to the site on a just-in-time basis to minimize site inventory and storage space. The sections were lifted from the trailer by an overhead crane and set and bolted into position. Crane setting positions were carefully mapped and their availability coordinated with the other trades.
The off-site concentration of the assembly work and detailed installation logistics planning improved product quality, speeded assembly and installation, and minimized disruption to this challenging building site.
1. trough skylight detail
2. ridge skylight detail
3. skylight detail with wall bracing rods
4. skylight plan with crane lift mapping
5. wall detail at portal frame
6. wall detail at edge
7. spring at portal frame
8. detail drawing of spring at entry portal frame
developer Second Street Holdings LLC, Louis Dreyfus Property Group Inc
architect Kevin Roche John Dinkeloo & Associates
gc Tompkins Builders
completion 2004
program lobby wall: 90 feet high and 60 feet wide; skylight: 55 feet long and 60 feet wide
building type government
structure double curve anticlastic cable net made of 20 mm cables clamped via stainless steel cast nodes. Supported by the perimeter concrete structure and an intermediate steel delta truss
glass face glass—Viracon, 1 1/4 inch total thickness, five-foot by five-foot panel size insulating glass consists of 1/4 inch heat-strengthened clear glass with low-emissivity coating on the second surface, a shading coefficient of 0.43, winter U-value of 0.48 and summer U-value of 0.55; 1/2 inch air space and silver spacer bar; inner panel consists of 1/2 inch laminated glass consisting of 3/16 inch clear heat-strengthened glass, 1/16 inch polyvinyl butyl and 1/4 inch clear heat strengthened glass.
skylight— 15/16 inch total thickness consisting of: 1/4 inch clear tempered glass with low-e coating on the second surface, a shading coefficient of 0.33, a winter U-value of 0.29 and a summer U-value of 0.29; ceramic frit on the second surface, with Viracon Pattern 5005 and frit color V912-LF (white); 1/2 inch air space and silver spacer bar; 1/2 inch laminated glass consisting of 1/4 inch clear tempered glass, 1/16 inch PVB and 1/4 inch clear tempered glass for the inner panels.
Glass-clad cable-net structures are fast evolving in the United States as one of the dominant forms of high-transparency facade technology.
The lobby area of SEC is enclosed with a cable-net supported 60-by-90-foot glass wall and a 60-by-60-foot skylight. The combined surface area is approximately 9,000 square feet. The structure comprises 28-millimeter stainless steel cables and clamp fittings or nodes. A 60-foot-long double curved triangular truss spans the two concrete super columns at the top of the wall and provides support at the intersection of the wall and skylight. The truss also acts as a load transfer and stabilizing element for the adjacent building towers. The wall net comprises 15 rows of horizontal cables and 12 rows of vertical cables and the skylight net comprises 12 longitudinal and 10 transverse cables. The vertical cables of the net wall align with the longitudinal cables of the skylight.
The vertical and horizontal cables are clamped at their intersections with custom stainless steel node assemblies, which in turn receive the hardware by which the glass is fixed to the net. The slight radius the wall structure follows in plan provides the curvature in the horizontal direction. Opposing curvature in the vertical direction is provided by embedded cable connections within the concrete super columns. The opposing curvatures give the cable net its saddle shaped surface and stability.
In practice, cable-net structures are remarkably resilient and forgiving as they are designed to move. They can deform many times the deflection criteria of conventional steel or aluminum structures without permanent deformation or failure. Deflections in the flat nets can equal 2 feet under wind load in a 100 foot span. Contrary to being a problem, this allows them the flexibility to best withstand the extraordinary loadings resulting from seismic events or bomb blasts. As with all emergent building technology, cable nets number among the highest priced facades in the marketplace, due largely to development costs. However, the systems are relatively material-efficient and very simple, and market pricing drops rapidly. In efficiently designed structures, with the dissemination of assembly and installation know-how, look for cable-net technology to become competitive in price, resulting in widespread application.
Enclos has developed various glass systems for application on its cable net designs, including point-fixed drilled and non-drilled systems and panelized systems. For the SEC net, Enclos has developed an innovative unitized glass-framing system that can be bolted directly to a modified cable-net node assembly. The system avoids the premium cost associated with point-fixed glass systems and allows for competitive domestic glass supply.
The anticlastic geometry will result in a major mitigation in the deflection of the cable nets. However, this feature results in a warped surface that cannot be easily clad with the planar glass.
Double curved glass is expansive and impractical for insulated glass and cold bends have limitation on the glass size and the preload warpage.
In this project Enclos first optimized the cable-net geometry to achieve minimum distortion while maintaining enough curvature to control the skylight and wall deflections.
The result is a hybrid geometry extracted from the surface of a torus.
The remaining warp is then concealed in the interstitial space of the thin aluminum frame.
Installation Sequence
In order to achieve the proper shape in the double-curved nets, the clamps must be accurately positioned on the net, and the tensioning of the net must be accomplished with all cables, vertical and horizontal, simultaneously. This requires rigorous methodology frequently involving sophisticated hydraulic jacking gear. Enclos utilizes special survey techniques to map the position of each node. Compensating adjustments in the tensioning of the net can then be computed and implemented. The trick, then, with the cable-net structures is in the tension: first, determining appropriate theoretical cable pre-tensions with respect to boundary conditions, so as to yield the most efficient shape of the net. The following Sequence was used at SEC:
1. assemble the net the factory and attach cables and nodes in a horizontal position allowing compensation for final tensioning
2. pretention the net using perimeter hydraulic jacks attached to a temporary space frame with similar stiffness as the actual structure
3. adjust the nodes to their final position using accurate laser measurements and clamp the node with the required torque values
4. wrap the cables and nodes in plastic covering and de-tension the net and roll the net around a spool
5. transport the spool to the to the site
6. erect the supporting structure including the delta truss and assemble the perimeter jacking system at the support locations
7. drape the net and attach to the perimeter jacking system and the delta truss
8. tension the net to the final position utilizing all of the jacks simultaneously and check node locations; install glass
Performance yields form
Developing the geometry for a curved cable net structure is much a part of the art of this technology. The geometry for a project like SEC is a critical issue, as cable net behavior is extremely sensitive to relatively minor changes in boundary support locations and pre-tension forces. The final shape of the net must be determined as a function of performance.
The goal is to control deflections, optimize stress distribution, and minimize pre-tension requirements and resulting reaction loads to the boundary structures. Subtle adjustments in the shape of the net can significantly decrease required cable pre-tensions as well as the forces in the cables under load. In addition, a coordinated manipulation of the net geometry can consolidate the variation in glass panel sizes required to glaze the net.
Without this design coordination it is possible that a different size may be required for each grid panel of the net. This will significantly increase cost both with respect to the glass itself as well as with its handling and installation. Poor net geometry can also result in unnecessarily excessive warping in the glass cladding, as discussed previously.
The unique geometry developed for the SEC project provided two significant advantages: it eliminated any permanent warp in the individual glass panels, and it allowed for each row of glass to be repeated rather than each panel being a different size and shape.
Strength of Geometry
Form-finding
The first step in the design of double curve cable nets is the process of finding the equilibrium position of the net under pretension forces. The pretension geometry is a function of a number of parameters, including the boundary condition profiles, maximum reaction allowed at these boundaries, the maximum allowable deflection during service loads, and the cladding constraints imposed by the planar nature of the glass.
The general approach initiates by assigning an initial approximate shape for the geometry which assigns the grid size and the boundary curves. Usually this initial shape is flat. Then a pretension force or force density (force / unit length) is assigned to the cables. Then the an iterative nonlinear approach is used to converge to the final position.
If the assigned force in the two directions is specified to be the same and constant the resulting geometry is a minimum surface.
In-service analysis
Upon completion of the form finding the super imposed loads are applied to the cable net. The vector loads are applied at the nodal points and the net deflections and cable forces are computed.
Because cable movements are relatively large, the applied loads cannot be assumed to remain in the same point of application. Further more it is possible that some cable elements will be relaxed (void of any tension) in certain load combinations. These constraints require a non-linear approach to the solution of analysis incorporating both the geometrical and material effects.
The main factor in controlling the forces and deflections of the cable nets is the sag ratio. The curve following shows the sensitivity of the peak deflection in as a function of sag ratio (prescribed boundary curvature / boundary length).
Effect of sag ratio (ratio of prescribed boundary curvature to the boundary span) on the deflection of double curve cable wall and maximum cable forces.
Wall deflection as a function of wind speed for conventional glass walls, flat cable nets and double curve cable nets.
owner City of San Jose
architect Richard Meier & Partners Architects
gc Turner Construction Company / Devcon Construction
facade consultant Curtainwall Design Consulting
completion 2005
program 18-story tower, freestanding 10-story dome-capped rotunda, 100 ft dome; 550,000 sqft total
building type civic
facade design/assist and design/build program included cable truss system with point-fixed glass for rotunda and dome at 21,000 sqft; tower facade is custom metal and glass unitized curtainwall system with louvers, sunshades and operable windows
dome structure comprised of 12 bays, each 26 feet wide spanning between AESS structural steel arched beams rising to a height of 108 feet; exterior stainless steel cable truss system spanning between arched steel beams, with stainless steel spreaders as sole compression element
glass point-fixed system with custom spider to provide adequate movement to accommodate requirements of California Building Code; rotunda glass is point-fixed and perforated at the corners, tempered and laminated, with a high performance low-e coating; large panels required in the barrel area approximately 10 feet high by 6 feet wide, comprised of 3/8-.060-3/8 inch glass and laminate; smaller dome panels are 3/8-.060-1/4 inch; rotunda glass imported from specialty Spanish glass fabricator Cricursa
Richard Meier & Partners Architects is well known for uncompromisingly modernist designs: formal and monumental with light-filled spaces, and sweeping expanses of metal, stone and glass. Enclos has collaborated with Meier on many past projects, including the sprawling Getty Center art complex in Los Angeles. The San Jose Civic Center includes a slim 18-story metal and glass tower housing City Hall, a 3-story council wing, and features an adjacent public plaza dominated by a free-standing dome topping a 10-story glass rotunda.
At 100 feet, the rotunda's diameter surpasses that of the U.S. Capitol building, and it is virtually all glass. The transparency and openness are intended to reflect the democratic form of government in which the United States prides itself.
Enclos Corp provided pre-bid services to the architect. Michael Palladino, partner with Richard Meier and lead architect on the San Jose project, laid out the program for the dome. The dome capped rotunda heralded an old tradition of such building form in public buildings, but he wanted to combine this aspect with the use of state-of-the-art technology, “beyond any skylight ever built.” Palladino wanted to “take the next step in dome design” with a highly transparent all glass structure, using a filigree tension based support system. The decision was made to bid the tower curtainwall and the rotunda as a single design/build facade package.
With Enclos providing design-assist services, a concept was represented in the architect’s drawings and a performance testing extensive mockup testing of dome glass system: including seismic, water and air infiltration installation strategy cable truss system required pre-tensioning to forces ranging up to 22,000 lbs; a detailed installation method statement was developed to facilitate assembly and installation; hydraulic equipment was used to achieve prestress forces
San Jose Civic Center
specification was included in the project tender documents. Enclos was ultimately the successful tender for curtainwall contractor.
Curved glass is used in the lower barrel of the rotunda, with simple curvature required in one direction only. Compound curved glass to provide true curvature to the dome surface was considered, but ultimately rejected for budgetary reasons, so the dome surface is faceted with flat panel shapes hung from the cable trusses. The rotunda enclosure is unusual in its use of an exterior structural system to support the glass. Stainless steel cable trusses span horizontally between structural steel columns in the rotunda and the arched beams that form the dome. The sole compression elements in the system are the stainless steel spreaders that, along with approximately 2.5 miles of stainless steel cable, comprise the trusses. Spider-type fittings attach to the inside end of the spreaders, providing the point fixings that secure the glass.
Arguably the most challenging design aspect of this project was accommodating the large inelastic building drifts required by the new California Building Code in areas of high seismic activity. Conventional point-fixed systems can be inadequate in these applications, thus Enclos developed a new system involving a custom spider design capable of providing for large in-plane movement. The system allows for up to 3 inches of in-plane movement at each fixing. A custom spider component was required to accommodate this movement. Enclos developed a custom spider that is investment cast of a special heat-treated stainless steel alloy with mechanical properties well beyond the 316 stainless alloy typical to conventional spider fittings.
An extensive testing and mockup program was undertaken for the spiders and dome structure. Additional information is available upon request.
1 Exploded view of the skylight dome
2 Diagram of typical cable truss
3,4 Inelastic seismic movement of the spider during mockup testing
5 Glass movement during a seismic event
Casting Process for Spider Fittings
The investment casting process is a complex, multi-step process. The basic steps are illustrated here.
1 Wax injection
Wax replicas of the desired castings are produced by injection molding. These replicas are called patterns.
2 Assembly
The patterns are attached to a central wax stick, called a sprue, to form a casting cluster or assembly.
3 Shell building
The shell is built by immersing the assembly in a liquid ceramic slurry and then into a bed of extremely fine sand. Up to eight layers may be applied in this manner.
4 Dewax
Once the ceramic is dry, the wax is melted out, creating a negative impression of the assembly within the shell.
5 Casting
In the conventional process, the shell is filled with molten metal by gravity pouring. As the metal cools, the parts and gates, sprue and pouring cup become one solid casting.
6 Cut-off
The parts are cut away from the central sprue using a high speed friction saw.
7 Knockout
When the metal has cooled and solidified, the ceramic shell is broken off by vibration or water blasting.
8 Finished castings
After minor finishing operations, the metal castings—identical to the original wax patterns—are complete.
Shure Corporate Headquarters
Chicago
owner CenterPoint Properties
architect Murphy/Jahn
engineer Peller & Associates
gc Harbour Contractors, Inc.
completion 2000
program 7-story; 65,000 sqft
building type office
facade design/build program including custom vaulted glass roof and glass fin wall of over 30,000 sqft; interior glass elevator enclosure, handrail, stairs, wash basins, ceilings
glass exterior low-iron insulated laminated with custom frit for roof glass, insulated glass with low-e coating for glass fin walls, laminated glass fins, all glass point-fixed non-perforated, supplied by Eckelt; interior glass low-iron tempered monolithic
description this building rises like a jewel box above its neighbors in a Chicago suburb
In granting an AIA Design Excellence Award (Chicago, 2005), jurors agreed that this building is at the leading edge of design and technology, in the best Chicago tradition. The seven-story box is overlaid with triangular screens that form loggias to the street and serve as projection screens for the company’s logo. The exterior wall is a single-shell, insulating glass facade between the slab edges. Concrete ceilings are exposed, with mechanical systems placed beneath raised floors. The interior is organized around a full-height atrium with three glass elevators and topped by an innovative glass roof. At the top two levels the atrium connects to a two-story light-flooded showroom for the company’s products.
1 View of glass roof and handrails, with glass elevator core and wall beyond.
2 Glass roof at intersection of vertical fin wall.
3 Retainer plates hold the 7’ x 5’ glass panels at four locations along the perimeter.
4 Section drawing showing roof truss design.
5 A four-way armature at the cross section of cable trusses and glass fins supports the glass panels.
Shure Corporate Headquarters
Chicago
Design/build and engineer-of-record services were provided for a portion of the project, including a highly innovative glass roof and glass fin walls totaling over 30,000 square feet. Custom roof trusses were fabricated and rigged in factory, then installed on the roof using a rolling gantry. The roof structural system incorporates a laminated glass beam element and intermittent cable trusses to lighten the structural profile. Roof cladding glass is insulated laminated panels with an offset ceramic frit on two interior surfaces. The Enclos design team developed an innovative point-fixing system utilizing a “pinch-plate” or clamping spider assembly that eliminated the need for drilling holes in the glass, thus providing considerable savings to the project. Low-iron glass was used throughout to further enhance transparency.
Laminated glass fins provide wind load resistance to the vertical facades, and integrate the primary entry portals into the building. A major component of the scope on this project was interior design that included floor, ceiling and handrail glass. The cores for the glass elevators are enclosed in glass surrounds, and even the elegant fritted glass counter tops in the lavatories were provided as part of a comprehensive design/build program.
Brain Power vs Crane Power
The building site is a primary cost center in all building projects. Advanced facade technology concentrates labor in the factory, providing higher quality and lower cost. The prefabricated and pre-finished systems must still be assembled and erected on the building site. This fundamental activity must be anticipated and designed for during facade design development.
One of the more significant site costs is typically the equipment expense associated with the use of a crane to lift components into place. The crane and operator costs can be significant on facade projects with constrained site conditions, which is frequently the case. The rectangular plan of this glass skylight lent itself to an installation method facilitated by a simple gantry crane mounted on rails parallel to the longitudinal axis of the skylight.
The gantry was designed along with the skylight roof and fabricated by the truss fabricator. Instead of a large crane through out the installation process, a small crane was required for only a few days to lift the gantry and materials to the roof, and to remove the gantry on completion the installation. This strategy provided significant savings to the owner and made possible the accommodation of an accelerated delivery schedule.
1 Exploded rendering of componentized spider assembly.
2 Finite element solid modeling was used to perform stress analysis of the armatures supporting the glass panels.
3 Vertical facade with glass fin support.
4 Glass fins can be used to support skylights also.
5 A custom gantry was designed and fabricated to facilitate erection.
6 Roof glass installation in process.
7 Illustrations from the Crystal Palace, 1851 by Joseph Paxton: a source of inspiration for the installation of the glass roof.
Orlando International Airport: Airside 2
developer Greater Orlando Aviation Authority
architect HOK
structural engineer Walter P. Moore
gc Clark Construction Group
completion 2000
program 3-storys; 305,000 sqft
building type airport
facade a centralized glass skylight and custom glass fin wall create a highly transparent hub
glass insulated, point fixed
description three dramatic tension truss skylight systems act as the focal point of Florida’s busiest airport
The HOK aviation design team wanted to modernize an existing hub design strategy for the new Airside 2 Terminal at Orlando International Airport. A conventional heavy steel truss backer structure supporting boxy aluminum framed skylights and curtain wall systems was to be avoided. Modifications to the building shell involved the application of cutting edge design and building technology.
At the hub itself, lightweight stainless steel cable trusses support 3 elliptical long-span skylights. The skylight system utilizes an integrated cladding strategy comprised of insulated, point-supported glass with stainless steel fittings and hardware that tie directly into the compression members of the cable trusses.
The Airport General Tram enclosure makes use of the ASI Vanderbilt LS system, the long span version of this elegant and highly economical glass wall structural system comprised of steel tension trusses and integrated glazing system. In this custom application the trusses were curved to provide a radius section to the glass wall enclosure.
There is lightness to the resulting enclosure enhanced by the effect of transparency achieved with the tension based structural systems, and the systems detail and use of material are complimentary to the contextual aeronautical context.
technology. The architect’s design goals were thus achieved. However, the advantages of advanced building technology do not end with the aesthetic; the building team provided the owner with extended warranties covering the long-term performance of the enclosure systems and materials.
1 skylight plan
2 skylight showing cable trusses spanning between perimeter fabricated steel trusses
3 glass fin spanning between cable trusses
4,5 hydraulic jacking system for tensioning cable trusses
6 glass fin and spider attachment detail
7 typical glass truss drawing
The Lloyd D. George Federal District Courthouse is the home for the district court in Las Vegas, and was the first federal building built to comply with post-Oklahoma City blast-resistance requirements. Following the events of the Oklahoma City Bombing in 1995 and the attacks upon the World Trade Center in 2001, the federal government mandated an increase in building structure security measures that have since become industry standards.
The innovative systems developed by Enclos for this project were the first in the country to be subjected to full-scale testing to verify performance under blast loading. All systems surpassed the newly created blast security criteria.
The 450,000 square foot L-shaped facility incorporates a complex facade program. Ceiling heights of 22 feet required long-spanning cladding materials. Precast wall panels measuring 22 feet by 10 feet clad much of the exterior. A dramatic steel and aluminum canopy projecting from the top of the building shadows the plaza, where a three-story rotunda serves as the public lobby.
A 60-foot diameter cable truss supported glass dome caps the rotunda, also provided by Enclos in compliance with challenging bomb-blast requirements. The walls facing the plaza are of glass curtainwall inset into precast frames with an integrated louvered sunscreen.
Advanced structural silicone and laminated glass were combined in inventive ways to meet the blast requirements. Testing took place at the Department of Defense's Large Blast Thermal Simulator in White Sands, New Mexico.
Results showed that in the event of an explosion the curtain wall panels would maintain fundamental integrity and act to mitigate the risk of injury in the event of an attack.
Weidlinger Associates conducted the blast engineering.
Seven custom beam elements float in a sea of tension, suspended and stabilized in a net of stainless steel tension elements. The tension structure is clad with laminated point-fixed glass creating an effective transparency of gem quality. Upon entering the foyer of the New Helen and Martin Kimmel Center for University Life at NYU, visitors are greeted by an unusual tensegrity structure creating the entrance enclosure. The vaulted enclosure reaches an extraordinary level of transparency and dematerialization with the primary roof beams seemingly floating in mid air. The canopy structure required pre-stressing of the cables to achieve its structural integrity.
Facing Washington Square Park at Greenwich Village, the Kimmel Center includes a 1,000 seat theater, the largest performing arts facility south of 42nd Street, and a 600 seat auditorium. Student club lounges, conference and catering hall, music practice space and offices complete the building program.
1 The tensegrity structure forms the entry enclosure to the university.
2-4 Point-fixed laminated glass attaches to spider fittings on the glass beams.
5 Stainless steel anchors for the cable assemblies during installation.
6 Cable and beam assemblies during prestressing operations.
7 Typical cable truss section.
8 Integration of load transfer plate at beam end.
9 Glass attachment detail at outside and inside corner of cable truss.
Davis Brody Bond was designing a 22-story luxury residential building located in Manhattan’s Upper East Side neighborhood. The intent was to convey a contemporary, elegant image yet compliment its more traditional neighbor, and the building’s design featured a canopy that was entirely unconventional yet very sophisticated.
At the entrance, — so thin and clean that passerbys might not even give it a second glance — is a glass canopy that cantilevers approximately 20 feet from a steep pipe in the rear. What makes this 10-foot wide canopy entirely unique is its lack of steel structure. Instead, the glass beams act as the structural support carrying most of the load.
ASI acted as the design/builder for this unique but state of the art structure.
1. the canopy cantilevers 20 ft from the building with no metal support
2. connection detail of glass beam leafs
3. the entire structure was test assembled off-site
Metropolitan Museum of Arts
Manhattan
owner City of New York
architect Kevin Roche John Dinkeloo and Associates
completion 2006
building type cultural
description A two story atrium with glass enclosed skylight is the centerpiece for the museum’s Greek and Roman displays
The Leon Levy and Shelby White Court yard doubles the height of the Greek and Roman Galleries by adding a two-story structure with historically themed columns and glass skylight roof. A three phase renovation doubled facility space to 60,000 square feet for exhibitions. The Met Museum now has on permanent display over 90% of their ancient Greek and Roman collection — half of which had previously been in storage — bringing their active display total to more than 35,000 pieces dating back as far as 312 A.D.
The architectural expansion feature is a custom vaulted skylight with a unique and minimal structure design. The skylight floods the museum exhibition space with natural lighting. The primary structure is a series of rolled steel arches fabricated to AESS standards. A secondary aluminum system spans along and between the arches to support the glass. The aluminum system incorporates and integrated gutter. The system features concealed bolted connections. Glass panels are insulated-laminated with a low-e coating.
Deloitte Building
Costa Mesa
developer Segerstrom
architect Murphy / Jahn
gc Matt Construction
completion 1997
program 15,000 sqft skylight
building type commercial
facade a centralized glass skylight and custom glass wall create a highly transparent entrance
glass insulated, low-e coating, 70% ceramic frit, point-fixed
description three dramatic tension truss skylight systems act as the focal point of the building entrance
1 Vault structure with two lenticular super cables running along the width of the vault to resist lateral loads and a series of king post trusses across the vault to carry the vertical loads
2 Entrance at base of vault reveals system transparency.
3 Cable truss system encloses vault sides.
4-6 Glass attachment, footing, and cable connection details.
7 Isometric view of the vaulted structure and shade wings.
8 Vault and side wall intersection.
These adjacent structures in Costa Mesa were developed during the 1970’s, originally as the Imperial Bank Tower. A late 1990’s renovation included tying the structures together by utilizing state-of-the-art facade technologies to modernize the buildings. The new glass lobby connects the tower with the neighboring building to the south, providing entrances from the east and west. The overhead and vertical glazed surfaces on the vaulted structure are 70% opaque fritted glass with low-e coating, producing a highly transparent building skin capable of mitigating solar heat gain.
The lobby enclosure is 120 feet (36.6m) by 32.5 feet (9.9m) in plan, and located between a multiple story tower to the north and a single story building to the south. Glass panels are supported by structural steel beams and cable trusses. Perforations in the glass accommodate a bolted connection capable of up to 5 degrees rotation relative to glass plane.
Glass fixing is accomplished with a stainless steel spider component providing up to 0.3 inches (8mm) per glass joint shear deflection under wind or seismic loading. Glass panels are tempered and laminated, and sealed with a butt-glazed silicone joint between the panels. The roof glass has a dark frit pattern with low-e properties. Glass complies with the intent of UBC 1994 chapter 24, “Glass and Glazing”. Single panel deflection is limited to span/50.
Marriott Canopy Manhattan
owner Marriott International
architect Perkins Eastman Architects
completion 2000
program canopy entrance to a 35-story early 20th century tower
building type hospitality
facade design/build custom steel and glass cable-supported canopy
The challenge of implementing a modern entrance canopy on an older building was to balance the historical charm of the original 1920s facade with the contemporary aesthetic desired by the architect and owner. The minimalist canopy design was developed as a study in contrast, the ultramodern steel and glass against the arched neoclassical masonry forms of the existing facade, to provide a striking and distinctive entranceway to the 35-story tower at Lexington Avenue. The hotel recently completed a $24 million renovation, and the new canopy welcomes guests to the Marriott’s 629 rooms and 17 suites. The hotel hosts a variety of NYC events in its 21,000 square foot event space.
convenient because of its close proximity to Central Park, Rockefeller Center, Broadway theaters and 5th Avenue’s retail district. The hotel is readily accessible from Grand Central and Penn Stations, the subway, and NYC’s three major aviation hubs.
The inspiration for the canopy derived from the remarkable iron and glass canopies of late 19th Century Paris. Enclos designers worked closely with the architect to develop a concept that would meet the aesthetic and pragmatic goals of this project. The primary structure is a fabricated and painted steel frame with a novel support system of upper and lower stainless steel catenary cables that tie back to the existing building structure. The suspended frame supports a glass “shell” that is comprised of laminated glass panels that appear to float between the Corinthian columns of the existing building. Suspended beam elements incorporate a glass fin at their outboard tip in a finger-nail like fashion to further minimize the structural profile.
The steel structure was fabricated and test assembled off-site to assure fit-up in the field, where a narrow window for canopy installation allowed no room for error. Custom stainless steel cable and fittings were used throughout. The tempered and laminated glass panels are tied to the structure by stainless steel point fixings. Architectural lighting is supported from the structure and used to dramatic effect during the evening hours.
Interfacing a new cable-supported structure with an existing building with a masonry facade is an art form rooted in fine craftsmanship. The installation of the structure required scaffolding over the entire sidewalk and entrance area to the hotel to create a work platform for the Enclos installation crew. Penetrations were carefully cut through the masonry facade to reach to steel structure concealed within. Anchor assemblies were designed to facilitate quick and easy assembly of the structural components. The canopy was ultimately completed on schedule and with only minimal disruption to hotel operations.
The Glass Umbrella canopy is a small experimental art project. It is comprised of 17 unique glass panels cascading over an exterior stairway in a small office building, accessible only through a locked interior door. It is prominently visible from the exterior of the building, and intended as a feature element of the architecture. The path to implementation of this innovative structure traversed a landscape of questions: how to design, fabricate and install something never attempted before, and how to define, describe, quantify, analyze, mold, laminate, cut, transport and install.
The 17 panels were mapped and modeled per the architect’s specifications. Stress analysis revealed the distribution of forces through each panel and verified adequacy. A molding technique was conceptualized and steel molds designed to facilitate the slumping process. Unavoidable inaccuracies in the slumping process created the requirement for a clamping device capable of a wide range of adjustability.
Bending the Rules
By all accounts, the Glass Umbrella marks the first time large sheets of float glass have been subject to such extreme curvature. (Frank Gehry used similar but less extreme bent glass in a vertical orientation on the interior of the Conde Naste project, in the same approximate timeframe.) However, to regard the project as high-tech, as in the application of cutting-edge technology, would be a gross misunderstanding of the story of the Glass Umbrella, which, like many such innovative architectural designs, is much more a tale of high-craft than high-tech.
Prior to our involvement, the designers identified an interested fabricator, a local family-owned second generation operation specializing in glass bending. They were introduced to us as a possible fabrication source and displayed both an understanding of the glass requirements and optimism that the panels could indeed be fabricated. Their initial concern was with the molds, as each of the 17 required a unique mold of complex geometry. We developed an egg crate approach that allowed us to map a section curve of the glass surface and translate that into a drawing that could easily be flame cut from steel plate. Plates fabricated from the incremental x and y sections were simply slotted together and tack welded to create a stable mold base with the required surface. 17 unique molds were constructed in this manner. The glass was to be heated and slumped over these molds.
Glass slumping is not a high tolerance process, especially when attempting deep, double-curved surfaces. Even in the plastic state glass remains relatively stiff. Single curvature bends are easy. The double-curvature forms act to further stiffen the glass locally as a function of the geometry, and the material resists slumping in certain areas. It was impossible to predict the exact deformations attainable through this slumping process. It was thus impossible to predict the exact footprint or edge profile resulting in the slumped panels. For this reason, the glass was initially cut oversized, slumped, laminated, and finally the edges were trimmed to get as close as possible to the desired footprint.
In the slumping process, the mold surface was covered with fiberglass blankets. Two identical oversized pieces of glass were then balanced upon the mold surfaces, one atop the other. The molds were rolled into the furnace, the doors closed, and the furnace fired, generating a temperature that carried the glass through the transition zone and into the plastic state.
Parameters based upon empirical experimentation were developed, allowing us to approximate the magnitude of possible slumping. When these were overlaid against the required shapes, many areas were identified where the curvature exceeded these parameters, especially with the 3/8 inch composite glass panels. The architect was quite insistent upon attaining the curvatures as originally designed with the hair blower. We thus made extraordinary efforts to achieve these curvatures as closely as possible, experimenting with variables of temperature and time, and whatever technique we could
identify that might improve the process. In many instances this required extreme measures, including pushing on the hot glass with long rods inserted through small openings in the furnace sides in an attempt to force it into conformance with the mold surface. The next step in the process was laminating. Glass laminating technology derived from research conducted by the glass industry in the 1930’s with the primary intent of providing a safer product for automotive glass. Decades of development have resulted in a laminating technology for architectural glass that finds extensive use in the building arts today. The most typical practice involves the use of polyvinyl butyral (PVB) in thin sheet form. The PVB is sandwiched between panes of glass, and the composite panel subjected to heat and pressure, bonding the PVB to the adjacent glass surfaces. The process requires approximately 4 hours at 280°F (138°C) within an autoclave to provide the required pressure and facilitate the bond. The primary advantages of laminated glass involve the redundancy provided by the composite panel comprised of multiple glass ply, and include safety and security. When one glass ply of a laminated panel breaks, the panel remains intact. Most laminated glass is 2-ply, however multiple ply are possible and are finding increasing application in structural applications, as in stair treads, landings, and even stringers, as well as beam and column components. Laminated glass also provides enhanced performance in extreme loading events, such as
blast and high-impact loads. Laminates intended for extreme loading applications will sometimes include an inner ply of polycarbonate. In addition, laminated glass is an effective sound dampening material and is finding increasing application for its acoustic properties. An important consideration for the Glass Umbrella project was that the glass panels could be trimmed to their final profile as a final fabrication step, something not possible with heat-treated glass.
As with the slumping process, never before had the lamination of such dramatically shaped glass been attempted. The slumping process sometimes resulted in differences between the two pieces of glass laid atop the mold in the areas of the most extreme curvature. If the dif-
slumping marking
ferences were great enough they would result in a bubble in the laminate where the PVB was unable to bridge the gap between the panels and would adhere only to one side. Lesser differences simply resulted in some magnitude of residual stresses as discussed above.
trimming and edge treatment
If a panel made it this far without bubbles or breaking, it was time to trim the piece to provide the desired edge-profile. Our designers devised a technique for transferring the perimeter profile to the undulating glass surface. The surfaces were then scored on both sides and broken away to reveal the new edge. Another area of experimentation was with the edge treatment. Cut glass edges are usually treated to provide safety in handling the glass, as the raw cut edges are extremely sharp. The treatment is usually some form of grinding process, whether done on a CNC machine or by hand. In our case it was by hand; even if we had access to a CNC type machine it could never have accommodated the wild edge geometries of the Umbrella panels. The
The fixing of the glass panels turned out to be very near as challenging as the making of the panels themselves. As seventy-three panels were made to provide the final 17, so were 3 variations of the fixing system prototyped before arriving at a workable solution. There were several problematic conditions to be accommodated by the fixing system. There was a small overlap between the panels, with an upper panel shingling its lower neighbor. The fixing system somehow had to bridge from the structural support below, through, or around the glass panel immediately above,
and to the adjacent panel atop the first, while providing for the exceedingly large variations in entry angles due to the poor tolerances of the slumped glass.
Much of our work is rooted in the study of natural form. Here, an articulated arm was conceived to reach from the steel pipe support and cradle the panel edges, rather like the palm support of a hand with fingers folding around the edge and over the top to restrain the glass from uplift. It was a complex problem requiring many design iterations. We learned from hard experience the critical requirement of mockups when developing such a unique system. The first two mockups were great successes in demonstrating to us just how to assure the breaking of the glass panels, how easy it was to break them by inducing just small local moment forces into the area of support. These mockups informed the development of a design that provided full rotation at the connection point, minimizing or eliminating any moment transfer into the glass. But by this time we had broken a number of panels and accumulated quite a number of stainless steel plate components of various
configurations, all destined for the scrap heap and a recycled future.
*Installation*
Glass installation is most often facilitated by suction cups attached to some type of crane as discussed above. We had a small crane at the site for this purpose, but as in the factory, the suction cups would not serve. Instead, our riggers had to devise a byzantine cat’s cradle of nylon straps that would hold the glass in something near to its installed position in the structure, as the panels were too heavy to manhandle in place. Each piece of glass had to be treated differently, finding its unique point of balance, providing enough support so as not to overstress the glass locally. Most of the panels had to be held in position by the crane until the clamps could be fixed.
Enclos Press
Publications
Inter-Story Acoustical Evaluation of Unitized Curtainwall Systems - 2008
Analysis and Design of Spandrel and Shadowbox Panels in Unitized Curtain Walls - 2009
Enclos: Collective Works - 2009
Facade TecNotes Series:
1 Skylight
2 Double Skin
3 Architecturally Exposed Structural Steel (AESS)
4 Airports
5 Healthcare
6 BIM and the Building Facade
7 Cable Nets
8 Security
9 LEED Skins |
Abstract—The architectural and structural analysis of selected high-rise buildings in Tokyo is presented in this paper. The capital of Japan is the most densely populated city in the world and moreover is located in one of the most active seismic zones. The combination of these factors has resulted in the creation of sophisticated designs and innovative engineering solutions, especially in the field of design and construction of high-rise buildings. The foreign architectural studios (as, for Jean Nouvel, Kohn Pedersen Associates, Skidmore, Owings & Merill) which specialize in the designing of skyscrapers, played a major role in the development of technological ideas and architectural forms for such extraordinary engineering structures. Among the projects completed by them, there are examples of high-rise buildings that set precedents for future development. An essential aspect which influences the design of high-rise buildings is the necessity to take into consideration their dynamic reaction to earthquakes and counteracting wind vortices. The need to control motions of these buildings, induced by the force coming from earthquakes and wind, led to the development of various methods and devices for dissipating energy which occur during such phenomena. Currently, Japan is a global leader in seismic technologies which safeguard seismic influence on high-rise structures. Due to these achievements the most modern skyscrapers in Tokyo are able to withstand earthquakes with a magnitude of over seven degrees at the Richter scale. Damping devices applied are of a passive, which do not require additional power supply or active one which suppresses the reaction with the input of extra energy. In recent years also hybrid dampers were used, with an additional active element to improve the efficiency of passive damping.
Keywords—Core structure, damping systems, high-rise buildings.
I. INTRODUCTION
Japan is one of the most densely populated countries in the world, with its capital Tokyo, one of the 47 prefectures, being its largest metropolis. Japan also has one of the most active seismic zones in the world. Geological instability triggers about a thousand earthquakes each year. The combination of these factors has resulted in the creation of sophisticated designs and innovative engineering solutions, especially in the field of the design and construction of tall buildings. Over the past several decades, the Japanese have learned to construct buildings to minimize the damage caused by earthquakes. Over 140,000 people died during the Great Kanto earthquake in 1923, which almost completely destroyed Tokyo. The Tohoku earthquake and tsunami of 2011 was the most expensive catastrophe in the world with estimated damage of $235 billion.
Until the early 1960s Japan's law on construction standards limited the maximum height of buildings. Frequent earthquakes in Japan mean that strictly defined construction standards are needed that require skyscrapers to implement security infrastructure, such as quake dampers and special deep foundations. The highest skyscrapers in Tokyo are mostly office buildings of diverse use, with the exception being the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building designed by Kenzō Tange, which was the highest in the city when it was built in 1991.
The urban form of Tokyo is largely a consequence of the reconstruction that occurred after the Second World War. In comparison to Europe, where historic brick and stone buildings were built, old buildings in Japan were mostly wooden, and very few of them were reconstructed. Urban development was regulated by successive laws: the Kihon Hojan building law was introduced in 1950, the planning a new city law (Shin Toshi Keikaku) was introduced in 1968, and the Law of Urban Renewal (Toshi Saikaihatsu-Ha) was introduced in 1969. All these laws aimed to improve conditions in built-up areas.
Japan's rapid economic growth continued until the first oil crisis in 1973. It had an influence on the development of urban centers around railway stations and the construction of many lines radiating outward from Tokyo. After the crisis, another stage of urbanization took place from 1970-1990. Tokyo's urbanism can be seen in terms of its architecture, with almost the whole city being completely rebuilt after the Second World War. This rebuilding is characterized by the fact that many of its original buildings were designed by architects from around the world. The landscape of Tokyo was largely transformed by technological development. It was a transition from its architecture that in the past appreciated the natural landscape to its present architecture that consumes natural resources and intervenes in the natural landscape. In recent years, the trends to preserve natural resources and ecological solutions have become a priority.
The panorama of Tokyo contains many skyscrapers, of which six form the basis for further architectural and structural analysis.
Tokyo is a modern city with a modern and traditional character. Its aesthetics include both western and Japanese styles. Although at first sight Tokyo appears chaotic and fragmented, all parts of it form a well-functioning organism. It has the original form of a polycentric metropolis that was
II. THE HISTORY OF TALL BUILDINGS IN TOKYO
When analyzing the history of the architecture of Tokyo until the end of the 20th century, it can be said that it has undergone three stages of transformation. The first phase was after the earthquake in the Kanto region in 1923, the next phase was during the American air attacks during the Second World War in 1945, and the following phase was during the Olympic Games in 1964. The fourth phase, which began in the mid-90s, continues to this day, and most importantly transforms the city of low-rise buildings into a city of skyscrapers. Since 1868, when Emperor Meiji ordered the city’s name to be changed from Edo to Tokyo, the city has been subject to constant change. An important moment in the history of Japan was in 1859 when the port of Yokohama was opened to trade with foreigners. This resulted, not only in the acceptance of foreigners, but also in the adoption of Western models.
As a result of the earthquake in 1923, three-quarters of the city was damaged or completely destroyed [1]. At the time, the tallest building in Tokyo was the 12-storey high brick building of Ryounkaku. This building, having survived the previous quake of 1894, was considered to be resistant to earthquakes. However, this time it was destroyed, and as a result, bricked architecture was questioned as to whether it is quake-resistant, which was manifested in the failure to build any high-rise buildings for the next few decades.
The American raids during World War II brought a second wave of destruction that ruined Tokyo in 1945. During this period, Tokyo's future was dubious, but Japan was a strategically important place for the American army. Later, the war in Korea and Vietnam and the high demand for Japanese goods contributed to the revival of Tokyo’s architecture due to Japan's spectacular economic growth. From 1953 to 1973, Japan transformed from an agricultural country into one of the most industrialized countries in the world. This economic expansion was the result of unprecedented government investment in infrastructure. In the whole area of the Japanese archipelago, in particular Tokyo, Osaka and the Ise Gulf, express roads, railway lines, ports, dams and artificial harbors were expanded. During this period, the construction industry became one of the main industries and accounted for 30% of Japan's total gross expenditure. The economic recovery enabled Tokyo to build the Tokyo Tower in 1958, Japan’s first high structure with a height of 322.5 m, whose prototype was the Eiffel Tower. Tokyo Tower was the starting point in the urban process that affects the present appearance of the city. The first image of Tokyo as a high city appeared in the post-war period with the direction of Metabolism in architecture. An important part of the Metabolism vision is the mega-constructions inserted into the existing urban structure. An example of such constructions is the Tower City building designed by Kiyonori Kikutake in 1963 and a residential building designed by Octa Kenji Ekuan in 1965. These visions later became a trend in the development of high-rise buildings in the city. The organization of the Olympic Games in 1964 was a breakthrough for Tokyo. After the end of the post-war period, the city implemented a road development program that involved a basic reconstruction. Several new hotels, intended for participants of the Olympic Games, were located near the Imperial Palace. The highest of them, New Otani in Akasaka, became the tallest building in the city with 17 floors. Until 1963, Japan's law on construction standards limited construction to 31 meters. It was not until 1968 that the first Kasumigaseki office tower, 147 m high and with 36 floors, was completed. In the following years, the height record changed many times. In 1970, the World Trade Center was built in Hamamatsucho with a height of 150 m and 40 floors, and in 1971 the Keio Plaza hotel was built and had a height of over 200 m. Three years later, the Mitsui building with a height of 220 m and 55 floors was erected. The highest skyscraper of the first generation was built in 1978 and was the Sunshine building in Ikebukuro. It was the tallest building in Tokyo until 1992.
The first boom in building high-rise buildings came to an end in 1979. The best example of such architecture was the district of West Shinjuku, which became a reflection of Manhattan and had several buildings erected in the years 1971-1979 that exceeded 150 m in height. In the next decade, despite a strong economy, there were few significant architectural projects. In the years 1980-1989, only four buildings with a height of over 150 m were completed in central Tokyo. These buildings were no longer in the Shinjuku district, but were instead designed in the Minato-ku district. The most interesting example is the Ark Hills city center built in 1986 in the Akasaka district, which marks a new type of urban development in which the developer Minoru Mori built a tower complex for office and residential use.
In the 1980s, land prices in Tokyo increased sharply, initiating the so-called bubble economy. At the beginning of the 1990s, when a significant number of high-rise building projects had already begun, Japan fell into an economic recession. Paradoxically, despite the recession, their construction accelerated. In the 90s, a total of 19 buildings over 150 m were built in Tokyo - more than the general height structure from the 60s, 70s, and 80s of the 20th century.
At the beginning of the 21st century, the Urban Revitalization Act further softened the regulations regarding the construction of skyscrapers, initiating a radical transformation process that led to the current state of the city. Over the next 12 years, 73 buildings exceeding 150 meters were built in the center of Tokyo. Until the end of 2010, in addition to Tokyo Tower and Sky tree, there were 556 buildings in Tokyo with a height of over 100 m, and 106 in the city center with a height of over 150 m. This means that Tokyo is currently fourth in the world in terms of the number of skyscrapers, behind Hong Kong, New York and Dubai.
At the beginning of the 21st century, for the first time in history, a significant number of foreign architects with extensive experience in designing office high-rise buildings were invited to cooperate with local architectural studios.
Among their projects are examples of tall buildings that set precedents for future development. Atago Hill Mori Tower and Forest Mori Tower designed by Cesar Pelli were erected in the Roppongi district in 2001. The corporate center developed by Minoru Mori Roppongi Hills was designed by the New York architectural studio Kohn Pedersen Associates in 2003. In 2007, Tokyo Midtown Tower, designed by Skidmore, Owings and Merrill, was opened.
An interesting example of the further development of Tokyo to solve the problem of the still growing number of inhabitants is the project Next Tokyo 2045. The central building of this project is the 1600m Sky Mile Tower, designed by Kohn Pedersen Associates and Leslie E. Robertson Associates. The skyscraper will be located on a man-made island near the coast of the Tokyo Bay. The main challenge for the designers was to protect the building against the threat caused by the occurrence of typhoons and earthquakes. The project used a solution in which sea waves that are dangerous to the construction would be broken up by hexagonal objects arranged around the Sky Mile Tower. The building will also house utility functions such as water tanks or places for plant cultivation. At present, this project can be treated as futuristic, however, it is included in the report of organization dealing with high-rise buildings (Council on Tall Buildings and Urban Habitat).
III. VIBRATION DAMPING SYSTEMS USED IN HIGH-RISE BUILDINGS IN JAPAN
Buildings in Japan are designed in such a way that they are resistant to seismic activity. An essential aspect of designing tall buildings is their dynamic reaction to earthquakes and counteracting wind vortices. Moreover, high buildings are sensitive to wind-induced vibrations, and the impact of such vibrations becomes dominant for buildings higher than 200 m. According to Japanese standards, the following three average wind speeds are considered when analyzing the wind impact at various altitudes: 10 minutes and the recurrence frequency of 1 year, wind speeds are considered when analyzing the wind impact at various altitudes.
In this case, high viscosity chemicals such as silicone oil are used. The thermal effect is also significant. Viscoelastic dampers were used in the TV-Shizuoka Media City buildings in Tokyo (1967) and the Torishima Riverside Hill Tower in Osaka (1999) to counteract the vibrations caused by extremely large earthquakes.
When these devices do not provide sufficient energy dissipation, significant damping can be added to the structure through the use of tuned mass dampers (TMD) [3]. A TMD is an additional mass, usually in the order of two percent of the total weight of the building, which is attached to the structure by means of springs and dashpots. The inertia force of the mass is damping the reaction of the building. However, TMDs are mostly effective only when they are excited by the resonant frequency for which they have been designed. This type of damper was used in Fukuoka Tower in Fukuoka (1989), Higashimyama Sky Tower in Nagoya (1989) and Asahi Beer Tower in Tokyo (1989).
In friction dampers, energy dissipation occurs as a result of friction between two solids moving in relation to each other. For example, friction dampers were used in the Sonic City Office Tower in Ohmiya (1988) and Asahi Beer Tower in Tokyo (1989).
Viscous dampers (VD) and oleo-dynamic dampers (OD) use viscous materials in which the resistance force acting on the body moving in the material is proportional to the speed of the body.
Another type of mass damping system is tuned liquid dampers (TLCD). This damping system uses the movement of liquids in special containers to absorb the energy of building vibrations. TLCD vibration frequency can be controlled by the water depth and the size of the container. TLCDs are preferred because of their simplicity, low maintenance price and the possibility of including water for emergency fire protection. The TLCD system was used in the Rokko-Island P & G...
Building in Kobe (1992), Crystal Tower in Osaka (1992), and Sea Hawk Hotel & Resort in Fukuoka (1998).
In recent years, hybrid dampers have appeared, which are a combination of a mass damper with an additional active element, which aims to improve the efficiency of passive damping. The forces from the active actuator increase the effectiveness of the mass silencer and are very effective in the event of changes in the dynamic characteristics of a structure. The hybrid system was used in the Landmark Tower building in Yokohama (1993) and in the Ando Nishikicho building in Tokyo (1993).
IV. ARCHITECTURAL AND STRUCTURAL ANALYSIS OF SELECTED SKYSCRAPERS
Tokyo is one of the most interesting cities in Japan and is referred to as the largest agglomeration in the world. This metropolis consists of 23 wards (Fig. 1) characterized by a very high density of population and buildings. In many aspects it differs from European cities, which is manifested, among other things, in the fact that addresses are based on a territorial system that defines particular areas in a hierarchical system. Tokyo urbanism is a dense cluster of buildings with centers and sub-centers located at metro and rail stations, which define the spatial structure of the city. Each ward has its own unique cultural and architectural specifics. In this paper, high-rise buildings from the wards located in the very center of Tokyo, i.e. Minato, Chuo, Shinjuku, and Sumida located in the eastern part of the city, were selected for analysis.
Minato ward is the main business center of Tokyo, located southwest of the Imperial Palace and bordering the districts of Chiyoda, Chūō, Kōtō, Shinagawa, Shibuya and Shinjuku. In this area there are many foreign corporations (Google, Apple, Goldman), domestic corporations (Honda, Mitsubishi Motors Corporation, NEC, Sony, Fujitsu, Toshiba) and embassies. Many large commercial complexes with hotels, conference centers and office skyscrapers are concentrated in the following districts: Roppongi (Roppongi Hills Tower office building), Toranomon (Toranomon Hills Tower office building), Akasaka (Midtown Tower) and Shiodome (Dentsu Tower).
The Chūō ward is located in the center of Tokyo and surrounded by five wards: Chiyoda, Minato, Taitō, Sumida and Kōtō. Chūō ward is divided administratively into three zones: Nihonbashi, Kyobashi and Tsukishima. Nihonbashi and Kyobashi are mainly shopping areas on the east side of Tokyo station, in which there are the districts Ginza and Tsukiji. Ginza is a luxurious district in which there are branded department stores (Mitsukoshi, Matsuya), boutiques, restaurants, cafes, as well as the Kabuki theater (a few-floor podium of the skyscraper Ginza Kabukiza). Tsukishima is a separate island in the Gulf of Tokyo dominated by residential skyscrapers.
Shinjuku ward is the largest commercial and entertainment area in Japan, located around Shinjuku Station and surrounded by six wards: Chiyoda, Bunkyo, Toshima, Nakano, Shibuya and Minato. The Tokyo Metropolitan Government building is located near the Nishi-Shinjuku district, where many high office and residential buildings are located in its western part. In addition, the skyscraper Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower was built in this district, which is the educational center.
Sumida ward is located in the north-eastern part of the Tokyo metropolis. Sumida and Arakawa are the main rivers that form part of its borders. This ward is surrounded by five wards: Katsushika, Edogawa, Taitō, Chūō and Kōtō. The area of this ward is considered to be an old city, although recently a large number of high-rise residential buildings have been started in its area. The Skytree observation tower, which is the second largest building in the world, was built in the Oshiage district.
Fig. 1 Administrative division of Tokyo into wards (red color means wards in which the analysed skyscrapers are located)
A. Dentsu Headquaters Building
The Dentsu Headquarters Building is an office high-rise building with a steel structure. The building is 213 m high and contains 48 floors above-ground level and 5 floors underground, Fig. 2. The skyscraper design was made by the architectural studio Jean Nouvel. This large complex, located in the center of Tokyo, is mainly used as the headquarters of the largest advertising agency in Japan and one of the largest in the world, Dentsu Inc. The skyscraper occupies the area of the old railway line, near the Tokyo station, and is part of the extensive reconstruction of this area. In order to ensure functionality and an original appearance that corresponds to the beginning of the 21st century, three aspects were considered during the design and subsequent implementation of the building: 100 years of operation, symbiosis with the environment and energy saving. In accordance with the urban plan for SIO-SITE (a comprehensive urban development project), the Dentsu building not only provides office space, but also attractive amenities for visitors that integrate commercial and cultural facilities. In the building is located a
restaurant, cafe, theater, library, museum and specialist stores. In order to realize the main concept of "100 years of usability", the design aimed for a highly functional, very durable building that would ensure safety from wind and seismic forces.
The building is designed on a triangular plan with an internal atrium and is approximately 120 m long on its longer side and 41 m on its shorter side, Fig. 3. The communication part was located along the north façade and in the central part parallel to the obtuse sides of triangle.
The height / width ratio is 5 for the shorter side and 1.7 for the longer side, which classifies this building into that of a slender profile. The interior of the building is a massive steel structure with a series of atriums that are characterized by curvature and extensive surfaces [4]. Atriums are located on the north side, while its main façade is oriented from the south. The tower is divided into ten floors, showing the location of various companies. Vertical movement is implemented by panoramic public and office elevators. The elevator battery runs through the entire building, but only reaches the level of the passage. These transition zones determine the main levels of the various atriums. The levels have their own set of elevators for the ten floors occupied by each sector. The façade of the building is fully covered with ceramic printed glass, which not only emphasizes the landscape, but also significantly reduces air-conditioning loads and saves energy. In addition, the light that diffuses and passes through the ceramic printed glass helps daylight to be used with less glare. From the south side, in the façade, ceramic glass with 12 shades from white to gray is used, which creates a very diverse view.
The key element of the design of the structure was to determine the method of deformation control in the transverse direction, where bending is greatest. The main load-bearing structure of the building is a steel mega-frame. These frames are resistant to seismic vibrations and use two types of vibration dampers that are installed in the upper part of the building, controlling lateral and bending deformation. For the asymmetric configuration of the building, a steel shell filled with concrete with a strength of 80 MPa was used. In the atrium for the frame construction, fire-resistant steel with a maximum thickness of 80 mm was used. The foundations of the skyscraper were built on granite rock, which was also exposed in the interior of a six-storey space with stone walls and waterfalls.
The Dentsu skyscraper was designed based on the concept of coexistence with the global environment in which energy saving was a priority. In particular, the focus was on using natural energy and increasing energy efficiency resources. The building has at least 35 major architectural and hardware innovations that have effectively contributed to increased energy efficiency and reduced CO₂ emissions. At the time of completion, the building was about 30% more efficient than conventional constructions of the same scale.
B. Kabukiza Tower
Kabukiza Tower is an office and culture skyscraper with a steel structure. The building is 145.5 m high and contains 29 floors above-ground level and four underground floors, as shown in Fig. 4. The skyscraper design was made by Mitsubishi Estate Company and Kengo Kuma Associates. The Kabukiza theater was designed for floors 1 to 4, while floors 7 to 23 are intended for office use. Two intermediate floors (5 and 6) between the theater and the office space are occupied by the mechanical room and a public floor with a gallery and garden. Kabukiza Theater is a fifth-generation building, which is the renovation of the fourth generation building from 1924 designed by Yoshida. Kabukiza Theater includes an auditorium and a stage space spread over four floors and configured as a large atrium. It covers an area that is twice as large as the office part. Under the theater is Kobikicho Plaza, which serves as a municipal square and is connected to the metro station.
The skyscraper is designed on an elongated pentagon plan with dimensions of longest sides 70 m x 33 m, as shown in Fig. 5. The communication shaft has rectangular plan and is located in the south-eastern corner. On the north side of the building, the office space has a span of 20 m without columns [5]. The south façade of the upper part of the building above the theater is finished with panels of prestressed concrete with a window motif characteristic of traditional Japanese architecture.
The Kabukiza skyscraper has a steel frame structure that is used to provide resistance to seismic activity. Between the office part and the theater, two mega-trusses with a height of 13 m and a span of 38.4 m were placed in order to support 23 columns of the office part of the building. It is one of the largest multi-layer structures that have ever been used in Japan to build a skyscraper. In the bottom part of the theater, a steel structure is used that needs to support all the external elements remaining from the previous fourth generation building. An important construction role in this part of the theater is played by the columns that support mega-trusses and reinforced
concrete beams with large cross-sections. The skyscraper has a raft foundation that cooperates with reinforced concrete piles.
The upper part of the skyscraper has a high bending strength due to the steel frame construction and steel columns that are filled with concrete. It uses hysteretic and viscose dampers to ensure safety in the case of seismic interactions. In the lower part, to counteract deformations, resilient steel stabilizers are installed, the strength of which is 490 MPa.
C. Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower
Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower is an educational high-rise building with a steel and reinforced concrete structure. The building is 203.7 m high and contains 50 floors above-ground level and four underground floors as shown in Fig. 6. The building design was made by the architectural studio Tange Associates. 50 renowned architectural studios participated in the competition for its design and over 150 proposals were submitted. Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower is an innovative educational center where three educational institutions are operated: Professional Fashion School (Tokyo Mode Gakuen), Special College of Technology and Design (HAL Tokyo) and Higher Medical School (College Shuto Iko). In terms of the height of the building, it is the world's second tallest educational building after the Moscow State University (239 m), and holds about 10,000 students. It is located between the most frequented Tokyo train station Shinjuku and the central business district.
The Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower is designed on a circle plan, with a central communication shaft on a hexagon plan and three extended arms form three axes between which classrooms were arranged on a rectangular plan [6]. These three rectangles are rotated by an angle of 120 degrees in relation to the core, as shown in Fig. 7.
Each class has a width of 24 m. The depth of the classrooms varies with height, because the vertical section is an elliptical curve. From the 1st to 50th floor, the class rooms are arranged in a curved form. The internal core in the building consists of staircases and elevator shafts. The spaces between the classrooms are student rooms and are directed in three directions: east, south-west and north-west. Each of these rooms have a three-story atrium with a view of the surrounding landscape. The building has a sectional façade with a dotted print, creating intersecting stripes in various angles. Composite elements were applied to the façade in the form of fluted strips coinciding with the diagrid structure in classrooms.
A lower building with a height of 30 m, which houses two large auditoria and retail outlets, is adjacent to the high-rise building. Both buildings have the same four-story underground structure, which is used as a car park and retail space.
The main entrances were placed from the north and south
side in the vestibule connecting the high-rise building with a ball-shaped building.
The Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower has a raft foundation with a thickness of 3.8 m that cooperates with reinforced concrete piles. The main load-bearing structure of the tower consists of three peripheral elliptical diagrid frames and an internal frame core. The building has relatively high shear deformations in the middle floors due to the bending of each frame. Because the three frames are rigidly connected to the base and the upper part of the construction, the structure can be treated as a portal frame. The perimeter frames have a width of 24 m, with intersections of 4 m at each floor level, and are curved vertically in the shape of an ellipse. Their task is to transfer transverse forces and overturn moments from the action of wind and seismic effects. In addition, to reduce these impacts on each floor from 15 to 39, 6 viscoelastic dampers were used.
The height of each floor is adapted to the elliptical curve, which allows the diagrid elements to cross at the same angle on each floor. The floor beams in the classrooms are the load-bearing element for the storey and connect in a horizontal diagrid frame and the inner core, preventing the buckling of these frames from out of the plane. In the student rooms located in a three-story atrium, the glazing of the façade is three storeys high with a maximum width of 20 m. Vierendeel double arched trusses were used to transfer the weight of the façade glass and counteract wind action. Vierendeel trusses are suspended on beams located above, so that no structural element would obstruct the view on any storey. Unlike many other tall buildings in Tokyo, the Gakuen Cocoon Tower does not have a flat roof. This is very important due to the fact that the cleaning system and the provision of space for helicopters is an essential requirement for a high building in Japan. Therefore, in order to fulfill these conditions, a sliding roof was used. A gondola hanger with a cleaning system is installed under a floating roof and moves on "Y" shaped rails with a rotating table in the middle. The hanger is able to provide the gondola to the entire outer surface of the building by extending and turning the arm at each end of the rails. The Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower has a cogeneration system that generates 40% of energy, which increases the operational efficiency of the building, as well as reducing energy costs and greenhouse gas emissions. The elliptical shape allows for even distribution of sunlight and the aero-dynamic scattering of strong wind streams.
**D. Roppongi Hills Mori Tower**
Roppongi Hills Mori Tower is a multi-functional skyscraper with a steel and reinforced concrete structure. The structure is the central point in the mega-complex that comprises office buildings, apartments, the Grand Hyatt hotel, the Asahi television studio and an amphitheater. The creator of this complex was the potentate of the building market Minoru Mori, who realized his vision of a global city. It is one of the largest urban complexes in Japan, which has been transformed from small building plots and surrounded by lush greenery that is combined with various urban functions.
Roppongi Hills is 238 m high and contains 54 floors above-ground level and six underground floors, as shown in Fig. 8. The building was designed by a team led by Eugen Kohn, William Pedersen and Paul Katz from the architectural studio Kohn Pedersen Fox Architects. The usable area of the skyscraper, when compared to this type of facility, is one of the largest in the world. The building is designed on a concave-convex octagon plan with a central communication shaft on a square plan. On the first six floors, there are shopping facilities and restaurants, floors 7-48 serve as offices of various corporations (Apple, Basf, Lenovo Japan, Google Japan), and the Mori Art Center is located is located on floors 49-54. The central element of this center is the Mori Art Museum located on the 53rd floor, which was designed by Gluckman Mayner Architects. The observation terraces were designed on floors 52 and 54. The form of the building was implemented in accordance with traditional Japanese architecture. In the facades, horizontal and diagonal lines have maximized the amount of glass and steel, just like in the folds...
The skyscraper has a raft foundation that cooperates with reinforced concrete piles. The main load-bearing structure of the building consists of steel frames, steel columns filled with concrete and an internal frame core as shown in Fig. 9. In order to counteract seismic actions, semi-active viscoelastic oil dampers and steel anti-buckling stabilizers with a low yield strength were used [7].
Tokyo Skytree Tower
Tokyo Skytree is a radio-television and observation tower with a steel and reinforced concrete structure as shown in Fig. 10. The tower is the highest in the world with a height of 634 m, exceeding the Canton Tower (600 m, Guangzhou, China), and is the second tallest structure after Burj Khalifa (829 m, Dubai, UAE). The tower was designed by the architectural studio Nikken Sekkei. The main function of Tokyo skytree is the transmission of terrestrial digital signals for television. Due to the numerous tall buildings in the center of Tokyo, rising to a height of 200 meters, it became necessary to build a new tower higher than 600 meters. The previous Tokyo TV tower is 333 m tall. In the initial design, the height of Skytree was set at 610 m. However, from the beginning it was planned that it will be the world's highest freestanding radio and television tower. The decision on the height of 634 m was related to the symbolic meaning of this number. The pronunciation of the number 634 in old Japanese is "musashi", like the old Musashi province, which occupied a large area covering Tokyo, Saitama and part of the Kanagawa prefecture. The building at the base was designed on a triangular plan, which at the top goes into a circle. In addition to office space, shops and restaurants, there are also two observation terraces located here. The first one is located at a height of 350 m and is covered with 5-meter thick glass that enables a 360-degree panoramic view. The second observation terrace is located at a height of 450 m. Tokyo Skytree is designed in the original color of the brightest shade of Japanese traditional indigo blue, which gives a delicate pale blue glow that is reminiscent of white celadon porcelain.
Tokyo Skytree is located on the banks of the Sumida River, where the surface layer is soft silt. The foundation of the tower consists of steel piles filled with concrete, and also reinforced concrete walls with a thickness of 1.2 m that are located at a depth of 35 m on the load-bearing layer under the surface of soft silt as shown in Fig. 11. A set of cylindrical steel and thin-walled piles reaches up to a depth of 50 meters [8]. This system of rigid foundation construction and vulnerable ground uses a relative displacement that is used to damp vibrations. Moreover, the foundation must not only ensure horizontal stiffness, but also vertical stiffness, as well as counteract the overturning moment.
The tower's structure consists of two separate parts, one of which is a steel truss, the other an internal reinforced concrete core. Both parts can move independently. To minimize seismic energy, a central core or so-called shinbashira, utilized for centuries in traditional Japanese architecture in pagodas, was used. The core has a diameter of 8 m, a thickness of 6 m, a height of 375 m and operates on a stationary pendulum that balances seismic waves by reducing vibrations. Additionally, the elements supporting the reduction of vibrations are viscous oil dampers attached to the upper part of the core. An independent steel truss structure with a circular hollow tube section is placed on the core. The truss is not only light and strong, which is necessary from the design point of view in seismic areas but is also effective in a wind-resistant construction, reducing the frontal area and not causing an unstable aerodynamic reaction due to the absence of an external wall. There are two types of steel structure in the tower. One structure is a truss, and the other one is a mega truss with a lattice core and girder, known as the Kanae truss. The coexistence of two steel structures occurs in the area where there are shops.
To minimize the impact of wind in the upper part of the tower, a system of tuned mass dampers was installed. In
practice, this is characterized by two massive ballast weights, weighing 25 and 40 tons, which were supplied by Mitsubishi Heavy Industries and hung close to the top with large springs and vibration absorbers. As in the case of structures with a reinforced concrete core and an external truss, these two counterweights work on shifting any lateral movement.
The building was designed, by the architectural studio Nikken Sekkei, on an elongated hexagon plan with two rounded opposite corners and with a central communication shaft on a rectangular plan. In the underground part there is a car park, on floors 1-3 commercial buildings, floors 4-5 occupy a conference center, floors 6-35 are intended for offices, floor 36 includes a spatial truss structure, floors 37 to 46 occupy the living spaces, and the hotel Andaz occupies the above floors. The skyscraper was designed around the new communication Loop Road 2 connecting Toranomon and Shimbashi as part of the loop around Tokyo. The Loop Road 2 that runs underground connects the eastern side of the building with a tunnel at the second underground level [9]. The road runs through a tunnel structure, which was built independently of the building's structure. In order to avoid the impact of road traffic vibrations on the building, the building's structure is isolated from the running structure by the introduction of material damping vibrations. Noise is reduced with the use of a Sylomer mat (polyurethane elastomer).
The skyscraper has a raft foundation that cooperates with reinforced concrete piles. The main load-bearing structure of the above-ground part of the building is a steel frame structure with steel columns filled with concrete and a central reinforced concrete core, see Fig. 13. The underground part has a mixed construction consisting of steel and reinforced concrete frames. The podium construction on the Loop Road tunnel consists of prefabricated reinforced concrete slabs with a thickness of 1 m. In the corners of the part of the building that has sharp angles, which are located in the north-west, south-east and south directions on floors 8 to 13, there is a system of inclined two columns, which intersect and pass into one column on the floors below. In the locations of this passage, there is a steel connection with a weight of 20 tons, which allows the load to be transferred from two columns to one. Due to the change of the structural layout in the sector above the 35th floor and the introduction of columns at a distance of 9 m from the outer edge of the building, on the 36th floor, a spatial truss with a height of 1 m was used. The crowning of the skyscraper is a steel structure inclined towards the east-west in the shape of shifted pyramids. In order to transfer forces from the roof to the building, two Keel trusses were used. The longest diagonal roof element has a length of 30 m and is covered with reinforced concrete slabs in order to increase its stiffness in the plane.
The use of a steel mega frame in the construction of the skyscraper effectively counteracts deformations coming from the bending of the entire building. Additionally, viscous oil dampers, buckling stabilizers in the form of diagonal braces and friction dampers as devices controlling shock and vibration reactions were used.
**F. Toranomon Hills Residential Tower**
Toranomon Hills Mori Tower is a multi-functional skyscraper with a steel and reinforced concrete structure designed in the Toranomon Hills complex, the creator of which, as with Roppongi Hills, was Minoru Mori. The building is 247 m high and contains 52 floors above-ground level and 5 underground floors, see Fig. 12. The building is situated on a raft foundation that cooperates with reinforced concrete piles. The main load-bearing structure of the above-ground part of the building is a steel frame structure with steel columns filled with concrete and a central reinforced concrete core, see Fig. 13. The underground part has a mixed construction consisting of steel and reinforced concrete frames. The podium construction on the Loop Road tunnel consists of prefabricated reinforced concrete slabs with a thickness of 1 m. In the corners of the part of the building that has sharp angles, which are located in the north-west, south-east and south directions on floors 8 to 13, there is a system of inclined two columns, which intersect and pass into one column on the floors below. In the locations of this passage, there is a steel connection with a weight of 20 tons, which allows the load to be transferred from two columns to one. Due to the change of the structural layout in the sector above the 35th floor and the introduction of columns at a distance of 9 m from the outer edge of the building, on the 36th floor, a spatial truss with a height of 1 m was used. The crowning of the skyscraper is a steel structure inclined towards the east-west in the shape of shifted pyramids. In order to transfer forces from the roof to the building, two Keel trusses were used. The longest diagonal roof element has a length of 30 m and is covered with reinforced concrete slabs in order to increase its stiffness in the plane.
The use of a steel mega frame in the construction of the skyscraper effectively counteracts deformations coming from the bending of the entire building. Additionally, viscous oil dampers, buckling stabilizers in the form of diagonal braces and friction dampers as devices controlling shock and vibration reactions were used.
**G. Midtown Tower**
Midtown Tower is a multi-functional skyscraper, the tallest of six buildings in the new Tokyo Midtown urban complex [10]. With the transfer of the headquarters of the Japan Defense Agency to the Ichigaya district, a great project to rebuild the area located in the center of Tokyo, containing an extensive range of greenery with the Hinokicho park, has begun. The project of the skyscraper was made by the architectural studios Nikken Sekkei and Skidmore, and Owings & Merill.
The building is 248 m tall and contains 54 floors above-ground level and four underground floors, see Fig. 14. The Midtown tower is designed on a rectangular plan with a central communication shaft. In the underground part of the building there is a car park, while above-ground there is a shopping center (floors 1-3, Coppola's Vinoteca, Dean & DeLuca), conference center (4th floor), Tokyo Midtown Design Hube gallery and design office (floor 5), Medical Center (6th floor), commercial offices (floors 7-44, Cisco Systems, Nikko Asset Management, Yahoo Japan, Fuji Film) and the Ritz-Carlton hotel (floors 45-53). Unlike similar skyscrapers in the area, such as the Roppongi Hills Mori Tower, the top of the 54th floor of the Midtown Tower does not have an observation deck for visitors. Instead, the floor is occupied by a machine room.
Three buildings in the Midtown Tower complex are located on a massive foundation slab with a length of 230 m on each side. The main load-bearing structure of the tower consists of steel frames, steel columns filled with concrete and an internal frame core, see Fig. 15. In order to counteract seismic impacts, buckling stabilizers and viscous oil dampers were used.
**V. CONCLUSION**
Due to seismic actions, Japan is a country with very...
difficult conditions to build, especially high-rise buildings. Historically, traditional construction was characterized by light wooden constructions, usually skeletal and insensitive to slight deformation, with brick buildings being less frequent. Characteristic buildings of Japanese architecture were tall and slender pagodas, in which the structure is loaded from above with a massive wooden stake to ensure stability. Currently, traditional residential buildings are being replaced by multi-storey buildings with a higher communication shaft. Contemporary architecture adopts a global character, where high-rise buildings are a characteristic feature. Undoubtedly, the least-resistant construction for an earthquake is a skyscraper, which is a certain paradox in comparison with their number in Japan, and especially in Tokyo, which in this respect has the fourth most in the world. Since the Kobe earthquake in 1995, Japan has become a world leader in building new buildings, as well as modernizing old ones so that they can withstand rapid seismic quakes. The most modern skyscrapers in Tokyo are able to withstand earthquakes of over seven degrees on the Richter scale. Of course, more forces affect a building with a larger earthquake, and its construction therefore experiences larger displacements. A building's response to earthquakes are vibrations in the form of sinusoidal motion. In order to counteract both these forces and the impact of wind, apart from a rigid construction, very advanced technologies of damping devices are used. For example, the foundations of these buildings (Maison Hermes Tokyo) are mounted with a system of spring or elastomer vibration dampers, due to which tectonic movements affect the upper part of the building to a lesser extent. In addition, as presented by the characteristics of high-rise buildings, viscous oil dampers (Mode Gakuen Cocoon), anti-buckling steel stabilizers (Midtown Tower, Roppongi Hills, Kabukiza Tower) and tuned mass dampers (Tokyo Tree Tower) are used in various levels of these buildings. When using all these supporting elements, it is most important that the location of the center of gravity of the building does not change during earthquakes. The main load-bearing structures of the presented skyscrapers are steel mega-frames with steel columns filled with concrete and an internal frame core.
REFERENCES |
10 PRESERVATION BRIEFS
Exterior Paint Problems on Historic Woodwork
Kay D. Weeks and David W. Look, AIA
A cautionary approach to paint removal is included in the guidelines to "The Secretary of the Interior Standards for Historic Preservation Projects." Removing paints down to bare wood surfaces using harsh methods can permanently damage those surfaces; therefore such methods are not recommended. Also, total removal obliterates evidence of the historical paints and their sequence and architectural context.
This Brief expands on that advice for the architect, building manager, contractor, or homeowner by identifying and describing common types of paint surface conditions and failures, then recommending appropriate treatments for preparing exterior wood surfaces for repainting to assure the best adhesion and greatest durability of the new paint. Although the Brief focuses on responsible methods of "paint removal," several paint surface conditions will be described which do not require any paint removal, and still others which can be successfully handled by limited paint removal. In all cases, the information is intended to address the concerns related to exterior wood. It will also be generally assumed that, because houses built before 1950 involve one or more layers of lead-base paint, the majority of conditions warranting paint removal will mean dealing with this toxic substance along with the dangers of the paint removal tools and chemical strippers themselves.
Purposes of Exterior Paint
Paint applied to exterior wood must withstand yearly extremes of both temperature and humidity. While never expected to be more than a temporary physical shield—requiring re-application every 5-8 years—its importance should not be minimized. Because one of the main causes of wood deterioration is moisture penetration, a primary purpose for painting wood is to exclude such moisture, thereby slowing deterioration not only of a building's exterior siding and decorative features but, ultimately, its underlying structural members. Another important purpose for painting wood is, of course, to define and accent architectural features and to improve appearance.
Treating Paint Problems in Historic Buildings
Exterior paint is constantly deteriorating through the processes of weathering, but in a program of regular maintenance—assuming all other building systems are functioning properly—surfaces can be cleaned, lightly scraped, and hand sanded in preparation for a new finish coat. Unfortunately, these are ideal conditions. More often, complex maintenance problems are inherited by owners of historic buildings, including areas of paint that have failed beyond the point of mere cleaning, scraping, and hand sanding (although much so-called "paint failure" is attributable to interior or exterior moisture problems or surface preparation and application mistakes with previous coats).
Although paint problems are by no means unique to historic buildings, treating multiple layers of hardened, brittle paint on complex, ornamental—and possibly fragile—exterior wood surfaces necessarily requires an extremely cautious approach (see figure 1). In the case of recent construction, this level of concern is not needed because the wood is generally less detailed and, in addition, retention of the sequence of paint layers as a partial record of the building's history is not an issue.
When historic buildings are involved, however, a special set of problems arises—varying in complexity depending upon their age, architectural style, historical importance, and physical soundness of the wood—which must be carefully evaluated so that decisions can be made that are sensitive to the longevity of the resource.
Justification for Paint Removal
At the outset of this Brief, it must be emphasized that removing paint from historic buildings—with the exception of cleaning, light scraping, and hand sanding as part of routine maintenance—should be avoided unless absolutely essential. Once conditions warranting removal have
---
1 General paint type recommendations will be made, but paint color recommendations are beyond the scope of this Brief.
3 Any pigmented liquid, liquefiable, or mastic composition designed for application to a substrate in a thin layer which is converted to an opaque solid film after application. Paint and Coatings Dictionary, 1978. Federation of Societies for Coatings and Technology.
4 For purposes of the Brief, this includes any area of painted exterior woodwork displaying signs of peeling, cracking, or alligating to bare wood. See descriptions of these and other paint surface conditions as well as recommended treatments on pp. 5-10.
been identified, the general approach should be to remove paint to the next sound layer using the gentlest means possible, then to repaint (see figure 2). Practically speaking as well, paint can adhere just as effectively to existing paint as to bare wood, providing the previous coats of paint are also adhering uniformly and tightly to the wood and the surface is properly prepared for repainting—cleaned of dirt and chalk and dulled by sanding. But, if painted exterior wood surfaces display continuous patterns of deep cracks or if they are extensively blistering and peeling so that bare wood is visible, then the old paint should be completely removed before repainting. The only other justification for removing all previous layers of paint is if doors, shutters, or windows have literally been "painted shut," or if new wood is being pieced-in adjacent to old painted wood and a smooth transition is desired (see figure 3).
Paint Removal Precautions
Because paint removal is a difficult and painstaking process, a number of costly, regrettable experiences have occurred—and continue to occur—for both the historic building and the building owner. Historic buildings have been set on fire with blow torches; wood irreversibly scarred by sandblasting or by harsh mechanical devices such as rotary sanders and rotary wire strippers; and layers of historic paint inadvertently and unnecessarily removed. In addition, property owners, using techniques that substitute speed for safety, have been injured by toxic lead vapors or dust from the paint they were trying to remove or by misuse of the paint removers themselves.
Owners of historic properties considering paint removal should also be aware of the amount of time and labor involved. While removing damaged layers of paint from a door or porch railing might be readily accomplished within a reasonable period of time by one or two people, removing paint from larger areas of a building can, with-
Fig. 1 Excessive paint build-up on architectural details such as this ornamental bracket does not in itself justify total paint removal. If paint is cracked and peeling down to bare wood, however, it should be removed using the gentlest means possible. Photo: David W. Look, AIA.
Fig. 2 A traditionally painted bay window has been stripped to bare wood, then varnished. In addition to being historically inaccurate, the varnish will break down faster as a result of the sun's ultraviolet rays than would primer and finish coats of paint. Photo: David W. Look, AIA.
Fig. 3 If damage to parts of a wooden element is severe, new sections of wood will need to be pieced-in. When such piecing is required, paint on the adjacent woodwork should be removed so that the old and new woods will make a smooth profile when joined. After repainting, the repair should be virtually impossible to detect. Photo: Morgan W. Phillips.
out professional assistance, easily become unmanageable
and produce less than satisfactory results. The amount
of work involved in any paint removal project must there
fore be analyzed on a case-by-case basis. Hiring qualified
professionals will often be a cost-effective decision due to
the expense of materials, the special equipment required,
and the amount of time involved. Further, paint removal
companies experienced in dealing with the inherent health
and safety dangers of paint removal should have pur
chased such protective devices as are needed to mitigate
any dangers and should also be aware of State or local en
vironmental and/or health regulations for hazardous
waste disposal.
All in all, paint removal is a messy, expensive, and
potentially dangerous aspect of rehabilitating or restoring
historic buildings and should not be undertaken without
careful thought concerning first, its necessity, and second,
which of the available recommended methods is the safest
and most appropriate for the job at hand.
Repainting Historic Buildings for Cosmetic Reasons
If existing exterior paint on wood siding, eaves, window
sills, sash, and shutters, doors, and decorative features
shows no evidence of paint deterioration such as chalking,
brushing, peeling, or cracking, then there is no physical
reason to repaint, much less remove paint! Nor is color
fading, of itself, sufficient justification to repaint a historic
building.
The decision to repaint may not be based altogether
on paint failure. Where there is a new owner, or even
where ownership has remained constant through the years,
taste in colors often changes. Therefore, if repainting is
primarily to alter a building’s primary and accent colors,
a technical factor of paint accumulation should be taken
into consideration. When paint builds up to a thickness of
approximately 1/16” (approximately 16-30 layers), one or
more extra coats of paint may be enough to trigger crack
ing and peeling in limited or even widespread areas of the
building’s surface. This results because excessively thick
paint is less able to withstand the shrinkage or pull of an
additional coat as it dries and is also less able to tolerate
thermal stresses. Thick paint invariably fails at the
weakest point of adhesion—the oldest layers next to the
wood. Cracking and peeling follow. Therefore, if there
are no signs of paint failure, it may be somewhat risky to
add still another layer of unneeded paint simply for
color’s sake (extreme changes in color may also require
more than one coat to provide proper hiding power and
full color). When paint appears to be nearing the critical
thickness, a change of accent colors (that is, just to
limited portions of the trim) might be an acceptable com
promise without chancing cracking and peeling of paint
on wooden siding.
If the decision to repaint is nonetheless made, the “new”
color or colors should, at a minimum, be appropriate to
the style and setting of the building. On the other hand,
where the intent is to restore or accurately reproduce the
colors originally used or those from a significant period in
the building’s evolution, they should be based on the
results of a paint analysis.\(^3\)
Identification of Exterior Paint Surface Conditions/Recommended Treatments
It is assumed that a preliminary check will already have
been made to determine, first, that the painted exterior
surfaces are indeed wood—and not stucco, metal, or other
wood substitutes—and second, that the wood has not
decayed so that repainting would be superfluous. For
example, if any area of bare wood such as window sills has
been exposed for a long period of time to standing water,
wood rot is a strong possibility (see figure 4). Repair or
replacement of deteriorated wood should take place before
repainting. After these two basic issues have been
resolved, the surface condition identification process may
commence.
The historic building will undoubtedly exhibit a variety
of exterior paint surface conditions. For example, paint on
the wooden siding and doors may be adhering firmly;
paint on the eaves peeling; and paint on the porch
balusters and window sills cracking and alligating. The
accurate identification of each paint problem is therefore
the first step in planning an appropriate overall solution.
Paint surface conditions can be grouped according to
their relative severity: CLASS I conditions include minor
blemishes or dirt collection and generally require no paint
removal; CLASS II conditions include failure of the top
layer or layers of paint and generally require limited paint
removal; and CLASS III conditions include substantial or
multiple-layer failure and generally require total paint
removal. It is precisely because conditions will vary at dif
ferent points on the building that a careful inspection is
critical. Each item of painted exterior woodwork (i.e.,
siding, doors, windows, eaves, shutters, and decorative
elements) should be examined early in the planning phase
and surface conditions noted.
CLASS I Exterior Surface Conditions Generally Requiring
No Paint Removal
- Dirt, Soot, Pollution, Cobwebs, Insect Cocoon, etc.
Cause of Condition
Environmental “grime” or organic matter that tends to
cling to painted exterior surfaces and, in particular, pro
tected surfaces such as eaves, do not constitute a paint
problem unless painted over rather than removed prior to
repainting. If not removed, the surface deposits can be a
barrier to proper adhesion and cause peeling.
Recommended Treatment
Most surface matter can be loosened by a strong, direct
stream of water from the nozzle of a garden hose.
Stubborn dirt and soot will need to be scrubbed off using
1/2 cup of household detergent in a gallon of water with a
medium soft bristle brush. The cleaned surface should
then be rinsed thoroughly, and permitted to dry before
further inspection to determine if repainting is necessary.
Quite often, cleaning provides a satisfactory enough result
to postpone repainting.
\(^3\) See the Reading List for paint research and documentation information. See also
The Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for Historic Preservation Projects with
Guidelines for Applying the Standards for recommended approaches on paints
and finishes within various types of project work treatments.
• Mildew
Cause of Condition
Mildew is caused by fungi feeding on nutrients contained in the paint film or on dirt adhering to any surface. Because moisture is the single most important factor in its growth, mildew tends to thrive in areas where dampness and lack of sunshine are problems such as window sills, under eaves, around gutters and downspouts, on the north side of buildings, or in shaded areas near shrubbery. It may sometimes be difficult to distinguish mildew from dirt, but there is a simple test to differentiate: if a drop of household bleach is placed on the suspected surface, mildew will immediately turn white whereas dirt will continue to look like dirt.
Recommended Treatment
Because mildew can only exist in shady, warm, moist areas, attention should be given to altering the environment that is conducive to fungal growth. The area in question may be shaded by trees which need to be pruned back to allow sunlight to strike the building; or may lack rain gutters or proper drainage at the base of the building. If the shady or moist conditions can be altered, the mildew is less likely to reappear. A recommend solution for removing mildew consists of one cup non-ammoniated detergent, one quart household bleach, and one gallon water. When the surface is scrubbed with this solution using a medium soft brush, the mildew should disappear; however, for particularly stubborn spots, an additional quart of bleach may be added. After the area is mildew-free, it should then be rinsed with a direct stream of water from the nozzle of a garden hose, and permitted to dry thoroughly. When repainting, specially formulated "mildew-resistant" primer and finish coats should be used.
• Excessive Chalking
Cause of Condition
Chalking—or powdering of the paint surface—is caused by the gradual disintegration of the resin in the paint film. (The amount of chalking is determined both by the formulation of the paint and the amount of ultraviolet light to which the paint is exposed.) In moderation, chalking is the ideal way for a paint to "age," because the chalk, when rinsed by rainwater, carries discoloration and dirt away with it and thus provides an ideal surface for repainting. In excess, however, it is not desirable because the chalk can wash down onto a surface of a different color beneath the painted area and cause streaking as well as rapid disintegration of the paint film itself. Also, if a paint contains too much pigment for the amount of binder (as the old white lead carbonate/oil paints often did), excessive chalking can result.
Recommended Treatment
The chalk should be cleaned off with a solution of \( \frac{1}{2} \) cup household detergent to one gallon water, using a medium soft bristle brush. After scrubbing to remove the chalk, the surface should be rinsed with a direct stream of water from the nozzle of a garden hose, allowed to dry thoroughly, (but not long enough for the chalking process to recur) and repainted, using a non-chalking paint.
• Staining
Cause of Condition
Staining of paint coatings usually results from excess moisture reacting with materials within the wood substrate. There are two common types of staining, neither of which requires paint removal. The most prevalent type of stain is due to the oxidation or rusting of iron nails or metal (iron, steel, or copper) anchorage devices. A second type of stain is caused by a chemical reaction between moisture and natural extractives in certain woods (red cedar or redwood) which results in a surface deposit of colored matter. This is most apt to occur in new replacement wood within the first 10-15 years.
Recommended Treatment
In both cases, the source of the stain should first be located and the moisture problem corrected.
When stains are caused by rusting of the heads of nails used to attach shingles or siding to an exterior wall or by rusting or oxidizing iron, steel, or copper anchorage devices adjacent to a painted surface, the metal objects themselves should be hand sanded and coated with a rust-inhibitive primer followed by two finish coats. (Exposed nail heads should ideally be countersunk, spot primed, and the holes filled with a high quality wood filler except where exposure of the nail head was part of the original construction system or the wood is too fragile to withstand the countersinking procedure.)
Discoloration due to color extractives in replacement wood can usually be cleaned with a solution of equal parts denatured alcohol and water. After the affected area
has been rinsed and permitted to dry, a “stain-blocking primer” especially developed for preventing this type of stain should be applied (two primer coats are recommended for severe cases of bleeding prior to the finish coat). Each primer coat should be allowed to dry at least 48 hours.
CLASS II Exterior Surface Conditions Generally Requiring Limited Paint Removal
• Crazing
Cause of Condition
Crazing—fine, jagged interconnected breaks in the top layer of paint—results when paint that is several layers thick becomes excessively hard and brittle with age and is consequently no longer able to expand and contract with the wood in response to changes in temperature and humidity (see figure 5). As the wood swells, the bond between paint layers is broken and hairline cracks appear. Although somewhat more difficult to detect as opposed to other more obvious paint problems, it is well worth the time to scrutinize all surfaces for crazing. If not corrected, exterior moisture will enter the crazed surface, resulting in further swelling of the wood and, eventually, deep cracking and alligatoring, a Class III condition which requires total paint removal.
Recommended Treatment
Crazing can be treated by hand or mechanically sanding the surface, then repainting. Although the hairline cracks may tend to show through the new paint, the surface will be protected against exterior moisture penetration.
Fig. 5 Crazing—or surface cracking—is an exterior surface condition which can be successfully treated by sanding and painting. Photo: Courtesy, National Decorating Products Association.
• Intercoat Peeling
Cause of Condition
Intercoat peeling can be the result of improper surface preparation prior to the last repainting. This most often occurs in protected areas such as eaves and covered porches because these surfaces do not receive a regular rinsing from rainfall, and salts from air-borne pollutants thus accumulate on the surface. If not cleaned off, the new paint coat will not adhere properly and that layer will peel.
Another common cause of intercoat peeling is compatibility between paint types (see figure 6). For example, if oil paint is applied over latex paint, peeling of the top coat can sometimes result since, upon aging, the oil paint becomes harder and less elastic than the latex paint. If latex paint is applied over old, chalking oil paint, peeling can also occur because the latex paint is unable to penetrate the chalky surface and adhere.
Recommended Treatment
First, where salts or impurities have caused the peeling, the affected area should be washed down thoroughly after scraping, then wiped dry. Finally, the surface should be hand or mechanically sanded, then repainted.
Where peeling was the result of using incompatible paints, the peeling top coat should be scraped and hand or mechanically sanded. Application of a high quality oil type exterior primer will provide a surface over which either an oil or a latex topcoat can be successfully used.
Fig. 6 This is an example of intercoat peeling. A latex top coat was applied directly over oil paint and, as a result, the latex paint was unable to adhere. If latex is being used over oil, an oil-base primer should be applied first. Although much of the peeling latex paint can be scraped off, in this case, the best solution may be to chemically dip strip the entire shutter to remove all of the paint down to bare wood, rinse thoroughly, then repaint. Photo: Mary L. Oehrlein, AIA.
• Solvent Blistering
Cause of Condition
Solvent blistering, the result of a less common application error, is not caused by moisture, but by the action of ambient heat on paint solvent or thinners in the paint film. If solvent-rich paint is applied in direct sunlight, the top surface can dry too quickly and, as a result, solvents become trapped beneath the dried paint film. When the solvent vaporizes, it forces its way through the paint film, resulting in surface blisters. This problem occurs more often with dark colored paints because darker colors absorb more heat than lighter ones. To distinguish between solvent blistering and blistering caused by moisture, a blister should be cut open. If another layer of paint is visible, then solvent blistering is likely the problem whereas if bare wood is revealed, moisture is probably to blame. Solvent blisters are generally small.
Recommended Treatment
Solvent-blistered areas can be scraped, hand or mechanically sanded to the next sound layer, then repainted. In order to prevent blistering of painted surfaces, paint should not be applied in direct sunlight.
• Wrinkling
Cause of Condition
Another error in application that can easily be avoided is wrinkling (see figure 7). This occurs when the top layer of paint dries before the layer underneath. The top layer of paint actually moves as the paint underneath (a primer, for example) is drying. Specific causes of wrinkling include: (1) applying paint too thick; (2) applying a second coat before the first one dries; (3) inadequate brushing out; and (4) painting in temperatures higher than recommended by the manufacturer.
Recommended Treatment
The wrinkled layer can be removed by scraping followed by hand or mechanical sanding to provide as even a surface as possible, then repainted following manufacturer’s application instructions.
CLASS III Exterior Surface Conditions Generally Requiring Total Paint Removal
If surface conditions are such that the majority of paint will have to be removed prior to repainting, it is suggested that a small sample of intact paint be left in an inconspicuous area either by covering the area with a metal plate, or by marking the area and identifying it in some way. (When repainting does take place, the sample should not be painted over). This will enable future investigators to have a record of the building’s paint history.
• Peeling
Cause of Condition
Peeling to bare wood is most often caused by excess interior or exterior moisture that collects behind the paint film, thus impairing adhesion (see figure 8). Generally beginning as blisters, cracking and peeling occur as moisture causes the wood to swell, breaking the adhesion of the bottom layer.
Recommended Treatment
There is no sense in repainting before dealing with the moisture problems because new paint will simply fail. Therefore, the first step in treating peeling is to locate and remove the source or sources of the moisture, not only because moisture will jeopardize the protective coating of paint but because, if left unattended, it can ultimately cause permanent damage to the wood. Excess interior moisture should be removed from the building through installation of exhaust fans and vents. Exterior moisture should be eliminated by correcting the following conditions prior to repainting: faulty flashing; leaking gutters; defective roof shingles; cracks and holes in siding and trim; deteriorated caulking in joints and seams; and shrubbery growing too close to painted wood. After the moisture problems have been solved, the wood must be permitted to dry out thoroughly. The damaged paint can then be scraped off with a putty knife, hand or mechanically sanded, primed, and repainted.
Fig. 7 Wrinkled layers can generally be removed by scraping and sanding as opposed to total paint removal. Following manufacturers’ application instructions is the best way to avoid this surface condition. Photo: Courtesy, National Decorating Products Association.
Fig. 8 Peeling to bare wood—one of the most common types of paint failure—is usually caused by an interior or exterior moisture problem. Photo: Anne E. Grimm.
After a particular exterior paint surface condition has been identified, the next step in planning for repainting—if total paint removal is required—is selecting an appropriate paint removal method. By applying these criteria, it will be seen that no method possible for the particular wooden element of the historic building should be selected from the many available methods.
The treatments recommended—based upon field testing as well as onsite monitoring of Department of Interior grant-in-aid and certification of rehabilitation projects—are therefore those which take three over-riding issues into consideration: (1) the continued protection and preservation of the historic exterior woodwork; (2) the retention of the sequence of historic paint layers; and (3) the health and safety of those individuals performing the paint removal. By applying these criteria, it will be seen that no paint removal method is without its drawbacks and all recommendations are qualified in varying degrees.
Methods for Removing Paint
After having presented the “hierarchy” of exterior paint surface conditions—from a mild condition such as mildew to a condition requiring total paint removal—one important thought bears repeating: if a paint problem has been identified that warrants either limited or total paint removal, the gentlest method possible for the particular wooden element of the historic building should be selected from the many available methods.
The treatments recommended—based upon field testing as well as onsite monitoring of Department of Interior grant-in-aid and certification of rehabilitation projects—are therefore those which take three over-riding issues into consideration: (1) the continued protection and preservation of the historic exterior woodwork; (2) the retention of the sequence of historic paint layers; and (3) the health and safety of those individuals performing the paint removal. By applying these criteria, it will be seen that no paint removal method is without its drawbacks and all recommendations are qualified in varying degrees.
Methods for Removing Paint
After a particular exterior paint surface condition has been identified, the next step in planning for repainting—if paint removal is required—is selecting an appropriate method for such removal.
The method or methods selected should be suitable for the specific paint problem as well as the particular wooden element of the building. Methods for paint removal can be divided into three categories (frequently, however, a combination of the three methods is used).
Each method is defined below, then discussed further and specific recommendations made:
Abrasive—“Abrading” the painted surface by manual and/or mechanical means such as scraping and sanding. Generally used for surface preparation and limited paint removal.
Thermal—Softening and raising the paint layers by applying heat followed by scraping and sanding. Generally used for total paint removal.
Chemical—Softening of the paint layers with chemical strippers followed by scraping and sanding. Generally used for total paint removal.
- Abrasive Methods (Manual)
If conditions have been identified that require limited paint removal such as crazing, intercoat peeling, solvent blistering, and wrinkling, scraping and hand sanding should be the first methods employed before using mechanical means. Even in the case of more serious conditions such as peeling—where the damaged paint is weak and already sufficiently loosened from the wood surface—scraping and hand sanding may be all that is needed prior to repainting.
Recommended Abrasive Methods (Manual)
Putty Knife/Paint Scraper: Scraping is usually accomplished with either a putty knife or a paint scraper, or both. Putty knives range in width from one to six inches and have a beveled edge. A putty knife is used in a pushing motion going under the paint and working from an area of loose paint toward the edge where the paint is still firmly adhered and, in effect, “beveling” the remaining layers so that as smooth a transition as possible is made between damaged and undamaged areas (see figure 10). Paint scrapers are commonly available in 1½, 2½, and 3½ inch widths and have replaceable blades. In addition, profiled scrapers can be made specifically for use on moldings. As opposed to the putty knife, the paint scraper is used in a pulling motion and works by raking the damaged areas of paint away.
The obvious goal in using the putty knife or the paint scraper is to selectively remove the affected layer or layers of paint; however, both of these tools, particularly the paint scraper with its hooked edge, must be used with care to properly prepare the surface and to avoid gouging the wood.
Sandpaper/Sanding Block/Sanding sponge: After manually removing the damaged layer or layers by scraping, the uneven surface (due to the almost inevitable removal of varying numbers of paint layers in a given area) will need to be smoothed or “feathered out” prior to repainting. As stated before, hand sanding, as opposed to harsher mechanical sanding, is recommended if the area is relatively limited. A course grit, open-coat flint sandpaper—the least expensive kind—is useful for this purpose because, as the sandpaper clogs with paint it must be discarded and this process repeated until all layers adhere uniformly.
Blocks made of wood or hard rubber and covered with sandpaper are useful for handsanding flat surfaces. Sanding sponges—rectangular sponges with an abrasive aggregate on their surfaces—are also available for detail work that requires reaching into grooves because the sponge easily conforms to curves and irregular surfaces. All sanding should be done with the grain.
Summary of Abrasive Methods (Manual)
Recommended: Putty knife, paint scraper, sandpaper, sanding block, sanding sponge.
Applicable areas of building: All areas.
For use on: Class I, Class II, and Class III conditions.
Health/Safety factors: Take precautions against lead dust, eye damage; dispose of lead paint residue properly.
---
* Abrasive Methods (Mechanical)
If hand sanding for purposes of surface preparation has not been productive or if the affected area is too large to consider hand sanding by itself, mechanical abrasive methods, i.e., power-operated tools may need to be employed; however, it should be noted that the majority of tools available for paint removal can cause damage to fragile wood and must be used with great care.
Recommended Abrasive Methods (Mechanical)
Orbital sander: Designed as a finishing or smoothing tool—not for the removal of multiple layers of paint—the orbital sander is thus recommended when limited paint removal is required prior to repainting. Because it sands in a small diameter circular motion (some models can also be switched to a back-and-forth vibrating action), this tool is particularly effective for "feathering" areas where paint has first been scraped (see figure 11). The abrasive surface varies from about 3×7 inches to 4×9 inches and sandpaper is attached either by clamps or sliding clips. A medium grit, open-coat aluminum oxide sandpaper should be used; fine sandpaper clogs up so quickly that it is ineffective for smoothing paint.
Belt sander: A second type of power tool—the belt sander—can also be used for removing limited layers of paint but, in this case, the abrasive surface is a continuous belt of sandpaper that travels at high speeds and consequently offers much less control than the orbital sander. Because of the potential for more damage to the paint or the wood, use of the belt sander (also with a medium grit sandpaper) should be limited to flat surfaces and only skilled operators should be permitted to operate it within a historic preservation project.
---
**Fig. 10** An excellent example of inadequate scraping before repainting, the problems here are far more than cosmetic. This improperly prepared surface will permit moisture to get behind the paint film which, in turn, will result in chipping and peeling. Photo: Baird M. Smith, AIA.
---
**Fig. 11** The orbital sander can be used for limited paint removal, i.e., for smoothing flat surfaces after the majority of deteriorated paint has already been scraped off. Photo: Charles E. Fisher, III.
---
Not Recommended
Rotary Drill Attachments: Rotary drill attachments such as the rotary sanding disc and the rotary wire stripper should be avoided. The disc sander—usually a disc of sandpaper about 5 inches in diameter secured to a rubber based attachment which is in turn connected to an electric drill or other motorized housing—can easily leave visible circular depressions in the wood which are difficult to hide, even with repainting. The rotary wire stripper—clusters of metals wires similarly attached to an electric drill-type unit—can actually shred a wooden surface and is thus to be used exclusively for removing corrosion and paint from metals.
Waterblasting: Waterblasting above 600 p.s.i. to remove paint is not recommended because it can force water into the woodwork rather than cleaning loose paint and grime from the surface: at worst, high pressure waterblasting causes the water to penetrate exterior sheathing and damages interior finishes. A detergent solution, a medium soft bristle brush, and a garden hose for purposes of rinsing, is the gentlest method involving water and is recommended when cleaning exterior surfaces prior to repainting.
Sandblasting: Finally—and undoubtedly most vehemently "not recommended"—sandblasting painted exterior woodwork will indeed remove paint, but at the same time can scar wooden elements beyond recognition. As with rotary wire strippers, sandblasting erodes the soft porous fibers (spring wood) faster than the hard, dense fibers (summer wood), leaving a pitted surface with ridges and valleys. Sandblasting will also erode projecting areas of carvings and moldings before it removes paint from concave areas (see figure 12). Hence, this abrasive method is potentially the most damaging of all possibilities, even if a contractor promises that blast pressure can be controlled so that the paint is removed without harming the historic exterior woodwork. (For Additional Information, See Preservation Briefs 6, "Dangers of Abrasive Cleaning to Historic Buildings").
Summary of Abrasive Methods (Mechanical)
Recommended: Orbital sander, belt sander (skilled operator only).
Applicable areas of building: Flat surfaces, i.e., siding, eaves, doors, window sills.
For use on: Class II and Class III conditions.
Health/Safety factors: Take precautions against lead dust and eye damage; dispose of lead paint residue properly.
Not Recommended: Rotary drill attachments, high pressure waterblasting, sandblasting.
* Thermal Methods
Where exterior surface conditions have been identified that warrant total paint removal such as peeling, cracking, or alligatoring, two thermal devices—the electric heat plate and the electric heat gun—have proven to be quite successful for use on different wooden elements of the historic building. One thermal method—the blow torch—is not recommended because it can scorch the wood or even burn the building down!
Recommended Thermal Methods
Electric heat plate: The electric heat plate (see figure 13) operates between 500 and 800 degrees Fahrenheit (not hot enough to vaporize lead paint), using about 15 amps of power. The plate is held close to the painted exterior surface until the layers of paint begin to soften and blister, then moved to an adjacent location on the wood while the softened paint is scraped off with a putty knife (it should be noted that the heat plate is most successful when the paint is very thick!). With practice, the operator can successfully move the heat plate evenly across a flat surface such as wooden siding or a window sill or door in a continuous motion, thus lessening the risk of scorching the wood in an attempt to reheat the edge of the paint sufficiently for effective removal. Since the electric heat plate's coil is "red hot," extreme caution should be taken to avoid igniting clothing or burning the skin. If an extension cord is used, it should be a heavy-duty cord (with 3-prong grounded plugs). A heat plate could overload a circuit or, even worse, cause an electrical fire; therefore, it is recommended that this implement be used with a single circuit and that a fire extinguisher always be kept close at hand.
Electric heat gun: The electric heat gun (electric hot-air gun) looks like a hand-held hairdryer with a heavy-duty metal case (see figure 14). It has an electrical resistance coil that typically heats between 500 and 750 degrees Fahrenheit and, again, uses about 15 amps of power which requires a heavy-duty extension cord. There are some heat guns that operate at higher temperatures but they should not be purchased for removing old paint.
because of the danger of lead paint vapors. The temperature is controlled by a vent on the side of the heat gun. When the vent is closed, the heat increases. A fan forces a stream of hot air against the painted woodwork, causing a blister to form. At that point, the softened paint can be peeled back with a putty knife. It can be used to best advantage when a paneled door was originally varnished, then painted a number of times. In this case, the paint will come off quite easily, often leaving an almost pristine varnished surface behind. Like the heat plate, the heat gun works best on a heavy paint build-up. (It is, however, not very successful on only one or two layers of paint or on surfaces that have only been varnished. The varnish simply becomes sticky and the wood scorches.)
Although the heat gun is heavier and more tiring to use than the heat plate, it is particularly effective for removing paint from detail work because the nozzle can be directed at curved and intricate surfaces. Its use is thus more limited than the heat plate, and most successfully used in conjunction with the heat plate. For example, it takes about two to three hours to strip a paneled door with a heat gun, but if used in combination with a heat plate for the large, flat area, the time can usually be cut in half. Although a heat gun seldom scorches wood, it can cause fires (like the blow torch) if aimed at the dusty cavity between the exterior sheathing and siding and interior lath and plaster. A fire may smolder for hours before flames break through to the surface. Therefore, this thermal device is best suited for use on solid decorative elements, such as molding, balusters, fretwork, or "gingerbread."
Fig. 14 The nozzle on the electric heat gun permits hot air to be aimed into cavities on solid decorative elements such as this applied column. After the paint has been sufficiently softened, it can be removed with a profiled scraper. Photo: Charles E. Fisher, III.
Summary of Thermal Methods
Recommended: Electric heat plate, electric heat gun.
Applicable areas of building: Electric heat plate—flat surfaces such as siding, eaves, sash, sills, doors. Electric heat gun—solid decorative molding, balusters, fretwork, or "gingerbread."
For use on: Class III conditions.
Health/Safety factors: Take precautions against eye damage and fire. Dispose of lead paint residue properly.
Not Recommended: Blow torch.
• Chemical Methods
With the availability of effective thermal methods for total paint removal, the need for chemical methods—in the context of preparing historic exterior woodwork for repainting—becomes quite limited. Solvent-base or caustic strippers may, however, play a supplemental role in a number of situations, including:
• Removing paint residue from intricate decorative features, or in cracks or hard to reach areas if a heat gun has not been completely effective;
• Removing paint on window muntins because heat devices can easily break the glass;
• Removing varnish on exterior doors after all layers of paint have been removed by a heat plate/heat gun if the original varnish finish is being restored;
• Removing paint from detachable wooden elements such as exterior shutters, balusters, columns, and doors by dip-stripping when other methods are too laborious.
Recommended Chemical Methods
(Use With Extreme Caution)
Because all chemical paint removers can involve potential health and safety hazards, no wholehearted recommendations can be made from that standpoint. Commonly known as "paint removers" or "stripers," both solvent-base or caustic products are commercially available that, when poured, brushed, or sprayed on painted exterior woodwork are capable of softening several layers of paint at a time so that the resulting "sludge"—which should be remembered is nothing less than the sequence of historic
paint layers—can be removed with a putty knife. Detachable wood elements such as exterior shutters can also be “dip-stripped.”
**Solvent-base Strippers:** The formulas tend to vary, but generally consist of combinations of organic solvents such as methylene chloride, isopropanol, toluol, xylol, and methanol; thickeners such as methyl cellulose; and various additives such as paraffin wax used to prevent the volatile solvents from evaporating before they have time to soak through multiple layers of paint. Thus, while some solvent-base strippers are quite thin and therefore unsuitable for use on vertical surfaces, others, called “semi-paste” strippers, are formulated for use on vertical surfaces or the underside of horizontal surfaces.
However, whether liquid or semi-paste, there are two important points to stress when using any solvent-base stripper: First, the vapors from the organic chemicals can be highly toxic if inhaled; skin contact is equally dangerous because the solvents can be absorbed; second, many solvent-base strippers are flammable. Even though application out-of-doors may somewhat mitigate health and safety hazards, a respirator with special filters for organic solvents is recommended and, of course, solvent-base strippers should never be used around open flames, lighted cigarettes, or with steel wool around electrical outlets.
Although appearing to be the simplest for exterior use, a particular type of solvent-base stripper needs to be mentioned here because it can actually cause the most problems. Known as “water-rinsable,” such products have a high proportion of methylene chloride together with emulsifiers. Although the dissolved paint can be rinsed off with water with a minimum of scraping, this ultimately creates more of a problem in cleaning up and properly disposing of the sludge. In addition, these strippers can leave a gummy residue on the wood that requires removal with solvents. Finally, water-rinsable strippers tend to raise the grain of the wood more than regular strippers.
On balance, then, the regular strippers would seem to work just as well for exterior purposes and are perhaps even better from the standpoint of proper lead sludge disposal because they must be hand scraped as opposed to rinsed off (a coffee-can with a wire stretched across the top is one effective way to collect the sludge; when the putty knife is run across the wire, the sludge simply falls into the can. Then, when the can is filled, the wire is removed, the can capped, and the lead paint sludge disposed of according to local health regulations).
**Caustic Strippers:** Until the advent of solvent-base strippers, caustic strippers were used exclusively when a chemical method was deemed appropriate for total paint removal prior to repainting or refinishing. Now, it is more difficult to find commercially prepared caustic solutions in hardware and paint stores for home-owner use with the exception of lye (caustic soda) because solvent-base strippers packaged in small quantities tend to dominate the market.
Most commercial dip stripping companies, however, continue to use variations of the caustic bath process because it is still the cheapest method available for removing paint. Generally, dip stripping should be left to professional companies because caustic solutions can dissolve skin and permanently damage eyes as well as present serious disposal problems in large quantities.
If exterior shutters or other detachable elements are being sent out* for stripping in a caustic solution, it is wise to see samples of the company’s finished work. While some companies do a first-rate job, others can leave a residue of paint in carvings and grooves. Wooden elements may also be soaked too long so that the wood grain is raised and roughened, requiring extensive hand sanding later. In addition, assurances should be given by these companies that caustic paint removers will be neutralized with a mild acid solution or at least thoroughly rinsed with water after dipping (a caustic residue makes the wood feel slippery). If this is not done, the lye residue will cause new paint to fail.
**Summary of Chemical Methods**
**Recommended, with extreme caution:** Solvent-base strippers, caustic strippers.
**Applicable areas of buildings:** decorative features, window muntins, doors, exterior shutters, columns, balusters, and railings.
**For use on:** Class III Conditions.
**Health/Safety factors:** Take precautions against inhaling toxic vapors; fire; eye damage; and chemical poisoning from skin contact. Dispose of lead residue properly
**General Paint Type Recommendations**
Based on the assumption that the exterior wood has been painted with oil paint many times in the past and the existing top coat is therefore also an oil paint,* it is recommended that for CLASS I and CLASS II paint surface conditions, a top coat of high quality oil paint be applied when repainting. The reason for recommending oil rather than latex paints is that a coat of latex paint applied directly over old oil paint is more apt to fail. The considerations are twofold. First, because oil paints continue to harden with age, the old surface is sensitive to the added stress of shrinkage which occurs as a new coat of paint dries. Oil paints shrink less upon drying than latex paints and thus do not have as great a tendency to pull the old paint loose. Second, when exterior oil paints age, the binder releases pigment particles, causing a chalky surface. Although for best results, the chalk (or dirt, etc.) should always be cleaned off prior to repainting, a coat of new oil paint is more able to penetrate a chalky residue and adhere than is latex paint. Therefore, unless it is possible to thoroughly clean a heavy chalked surface, oil paints—on balance—give better adhesion.
If, however, a latex top coat is going to be applied over several layers of old oil paint, an oil primer should be applied first (the oil primer creates a flat, porous surface to which the latex can adhere). After the primer has thoroughly dried, a latex top coat may be applied. In the long run, changing paint types is more time consuming and expensive. An application of a new oil-type top coat on the old oil paint is, thus, the preferred course of action.
* Marking the original location of the shutter by number (either by stamping numbers into the end grain with metal numeral dies or cutting numbers into the end with a pen knife) will minimize difficulties when rehanging them.
* If the top coat is latex paint (when viewed by the naked eye or, preferably, with a magnifying glass, it looks like a series of tiny craters) it may either be repainted with new latex paint or with oil paint. Normal surface preparation should precede any repainting.
If CLASS III conditions have necessitated total paint removal, there are two options, both of which assure protection of the exterior wood: (1) an oil primer may be applied followed by an oil-type top coat, preferably by the same manufacturer; or (2) an oil primer may be applied followed by a latex top coat, again using the same brand of paint. It should also be noted that primers were never intended to withstand the effects of weathering; therefore, the top coat should be applied as soon as possible after the primer has dried.
**Conclusion**
The recommendations outlined in this Brief are cautious because at present there is no completely safe and effective method of removing old paint from exterior woodwork. This has necessarily eliminated descriptions of several methods still in a developmental or experimental stage, which can therefore neither be recommended nor precluded from future recommendation. With the ever-increasing number of buildings being rehabilitated, however, paint removal technology should be stimulated and, in consequence, existing methods refined and new methods developed which will respect both the historic wood and the health and safety of the operator.
---
**Reading List**
Special thanks go to Baird M. Smith, AIA (formerly Chief, Preservation Technology Branch, TPS) for providing general direction in the development of the manuscript. In addition, the following individuals are to be thanked for their contributions as technical experts in the field: Royal T. Brown, National Paint and Coatings Association, Washington, D.C.; Dr. Judith E. Selwyn, Preservation Technology Associates, Boston, Massachusetts; and Dennis R. Vacca, Pratt & Lambert Co., Carlstadt, New Jersey. Finally, thanks go to several National Park Service staff members whose valuable comments were incorporated into the text and who contributed to the production of the brief: James A. Caufield, Anne E. Grimmer, Jean E. Travers, David G. Battle, Sharon C. Park, AIA, Charles E. Fisher III, Sara K. Blumenthal, and Martha A. Gutrick.
This publication has been prepared pursuant to The Economic Recovery Tax Act of 1981, which directs the Secretary of the Interior to certify rehabilitations of historic buildings that are consistent with their historic character; the advice and guidance in this brief will assist property owners in complying with the requirements of this law.
Preservation Briefs 10 has been developed under the technical editorship of Lee H. Nelson, AIA, Chief, Preservation Assistance Division, National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior, Washington, D.C. 20240. Comments on the usefulness of this information are welcomed and can be sent to Mr. Nelson at the above address.
This publication is not copyrighted and can be reproduced without penalty. Normal procedures for credit to the authors and the National Park Service are appreciated.
---
September 1982
For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, U.S. Government Printing Office
Washington, D.C. 20402 |
THE ART OF THE PORTRAIT IN THE RELIGIOUS PAINTING OF WALLACHIA AND MOLDAVIA IN THE 15TH – 17TH CENTURIES
Valentin Sava*
Abstract: Beyond the diversity of the forms of socio-economic and cultural-artistic development, at the end of the 14th century, Wallachia, Moldavia and the knights of Romanian origins of Transylvania, Banat and Maramures were gathered in one single system, with feudality institutions of Occidental inspiration, but with mostly Orthodox spirituality, a system that is permanently struggling to find the perfect equilibrium between the Islamic-Ottoman expansionism and the insistent conversion actions of Western Catholicism. Medieval painting promoted the portrait as an artistic genre beyond the canonical constraints of the painting of Byzantine inspiration. The votive portrait of the founder did no necessarily reproduce the individual features of the portrayed person, not even in the last period, when the artistic and technical evolutions could initiate tendencies to a desacralization of the religious themes. The introduction of the portrait reflecting the social class in the Court of the two Romanian Countries through the Central – European sources of Austria, Hungary or Poland produced a major change in the aesthetics of the portrait when the artist came to have a new vision on the way he rendered the physical features and later the mental experiences of the model, sometimes making use of an obvious descriptive exactness in rendering the physical features, the physiognomy of the portrayed person. Just like in the medieval votive portrait, in the case of easel portraits, the artist focused on the representation of external features, according to the social importance and rank of the portrayed person. Gradually, the evolution of the corresponding capture of the physical features, initially sufficient, went up from a qualitative point of view to complete this first effort with a precious performance of the expression of the spiritual characteristics of the portrayed character, insistently claimed by both the artist and the contemplator.
Keywords: Votive portrait, medieval, founder, Byzantine, canon, painter, monastery, voivode, church.
* PhD Professor, “George Enescu” University of Art, Faculty of Visual Arts, Iași, România
E-mail: valentinsava47@yahoo.com
ANASTASIS. Research in Medieval Culture and Art
1. Wallachia
After the defeat from Nikopol (1395), the confrontation between Christianity and the Ottoman expansion, namely the Islam, remained a real fact on the Danube line. The coming of the Ottomans in Eastern Europe and their advance to Central Europe was marked by the fall of the Byzantine Constantinople of 1453. For the Romanian voivodes, the fall of the Christian states in the south of the Danube determined the appearance of different evolutions from one reign to another, according to the character of the respective voivode and also to interior and exterior circumstances, which influenced the ability to resist the Ottoman expansion. As it was in the front line of the anti-Ottoman resistance, Wallachia was the first one to enter a system of specific relations with the High Porte, relations that in the 15th century gradually evolved to an Ottoman domination.
In 1420, for the first time in Wallachia, the Ottomans imposed a voivode of their own will, so in 1432 the first personal bowing down of a voivode before the sultan was recorded. In 1436, Vlad Dracul, the father of Vlad the Impaler, was personally going to present the tribute to the sultan, while Moldavia, somehow unexposed to the Ottoman expansion of the time, bowed down only two years after the fall of Constantinople, in 1455, during the reign of Aron Vodă, as the said bowing down was necessary to open the market of the areas over the Black Sea, which were already under the Ottoman control, for the Moldavian merchants.
Just like in Moldavia, the voivodes of Wallachia were generally depicted in western outfits, although the Court and the Holy Offices ritual were Byzantine. The Court was itinerant, even if, just like Suceava in Moldavia, Wallachia also had a powerful citadel in Târgoviște. Overall, the power of the voivode, at first disputed with the boyars, gradually prevailed, towards the end of the 15th century. In Wallachia, religious life – which remained mainly tolerant, especially in Moldavia, where the Hussite heretics found shelter after the Catholic Council of Constance, intertwined with the Eastern influences coming from the south of the Danube, determining significant evolution from an artistic point of view, too, especially at an ornamental level and less or not at all at a structural level. These evolutions came to gradually dominate the art and culture of the following century in Wallachia. The original painting of the narthex of the catholicon of Cozia monastery- Vâlcea, executed according to the style of the Paleologan monastic painting contemporary to the reign of Mircea the Elder (who died in 1418) is preserved even from the year 1391. We also have the 14th century paintings of the Princely Church Saint Nicholas in Curtea de Argeș, whose painting was made during the reign of Vlaicu Vodă (1364 – 1366) and which, from a stylistic point of view, belongs to the Byzantine – Paleologue era that was characterized by a remarkable richness and clarity of the iconographic
program, demonstrating high artistic qualities. One of the first Romanian artists known as a representative of the Byzantine – Paleologue style was Stephen, a master painter, probably born in Wallachia, who painted the church of Densuş – Transylvania, in 1443 and the patron icon of the church of Ostrovol Mare – Hațeg Land.¹
The artistic creations of the 16th century are even more famous as, due to the evolution determined by the influence of oriental art in the south of the Danube, real schools of religious painting, represented by highly appreciated artists, master painters, appeared and developed.
Thus, Dobromir the Painter, also known as Dobromir of Târgoviște, painted the church of Bistrița Monastery of Vâlcea, a foundation of the boyars of Craiova, in collaboration with two other artists – the painters Dumitru and Chirtop. The church infirmary preserves mural paintings that also contain a votive picture representing Barbu Craiovescu. The founder’s portrait bares the date 1513 – 1514. The same painter, Dobromir, painted – 1517-1526 – the Episcopal Church in Curtea de Argeș and the original paintings are partly preserved in the National Art Museum of Bucharest. Also, in collaboration with Jitian and Stanciu, Dobromir of Târgoviște made the original painting of Dealu Monastery Church from Dâmbovița (1515), which is now faded away.²
Towards the middle of the 16th century, the painter David, together with his son, Radoslav, painted the church infirmary from Cozia Monastery (1543). There, together with another master painter, Maxim, he made valuable frescoes that impress with the vigour of their drawing, accompanied by chromatic harmonies subtly dominated by the earth reds. Certain scenes – like the one representing Doubting Thomas – are impressive because of the dramatic dynamism of the composition. Together with Radoslav, David also created an impressive votive picture representing the portrait of the great spatharioi Stroe, considered to be one of the first portraits of realist expression of the old medieval Romanian art.
During the second half of the 16th century, another important painter – Dobromir the Younger of Târgoviște – performed his activity. He painted the narthex of the Tismana Monastery Church in 1564, upon the order of the vornic Nedelco Bălăceanu. Dobromir the Younger realized a really valuable composition characterized by the suppleness and dynamism of the drawing, large rhythms, doubled by a certain musical elegance of the compositions. It is supposed that the same Dobromir the Younger of Târgoviște also painted
² Vasile Drăguț - Dicționar enciclopedic ... p.128.
the Snagov Monastery Church near Bucharest; this painting was subject to a lot of subsequent repainting.
Built by Neagoe Basarab between 1517 and 1521, the Snagov Church remains, until today, a study object for researchers, at least regarding the original painting, which is attributed to Dobromir the Younger with a certain degree of probability.
Towards the end of the 16th century, during the reign of Michael the Brave, at least two important painters were remarked because of their activity; Mina – a painter and courtier of Michael the Brave – painted the Câlăiu Monastery Church (1594) where he created the portrait of Michael the Brave. For that matter, the votive paintings made by Mina the Painter represent a valuable document of the epoch as – together with Michael the Brave – they illustrate the voivode Petru Cercel and the entire Buzești family. Another artist of that time, Nicholas of Crete, was a religious painter and artist at the Court of Michael the Brave. An educated spirit, Nicholas of Crete was also one of the most important diplomats of Michael the Brave at the Central – European Courts. Nicholas of Crete is believed to have painted some churches from Transylvania, like the chapels from Târgu Mureș and Alba Iulia.
The first half of the 17th century was marked by numerous violent changes of reign, revolutions and foreign invasions that messed up the Carpathian-Danubian territory, which was already marked by the dramatic events that culminated in the tragic end of Michael the Brave and the end of the first Unification of the three Romanian countries, in 1600. The memory of Michael the Brave was not forgotten and the Unification remained an opened objective, also assumed by voivodes like Radu Şerban or Mihnea III, as far as the second half of the 17th century. In the middle of this turbulent century, only the reigns of Vasile Lupu in Moldavia, of Matei Basarab in Wallachia and of the two Rákóczi in Transylvania, due to their longer duration, offered a relative stability, favorable to the art and culture development.
Analyzing the medieval religious art in Wallachia during the 17th century, one needs to remark the evolution of the portrayal representations of the votive pictures towards an accentuated tendency of laicization of the represented figures, as the artists often made use of the representations of simple people, builders, constructors, carpenters or house painters, together with the voivodal figures, of great boyars or important officials of the Court, founders of places of worship built on the entire territory of Wallachia.
In 1644, the painter Stroe of Târgoviște decorated the interior of the Arnota Church, the necropolis of Matei Basarab built between 1633 and
---
1636, with mural paintings of remarkable artistic quality. Among these, one may notice the votive picture of Matei Basarab and Lady Helen portrait, a painting of perfect sense of composition, characterized by the elegance of the drawing and a special chromatic refinement. It particularly surprises the realism and expressive force of the portraits.
Another representative of religious painting was Ianache who, in 1667, together with Monk Michael, both master painters, made the mural composition decorating the Săcuieni Church – Dâmbovița, foundation of the clucer Badea Săcuianu, previously built in 1655. Ianache is the author of the Passions cycle, the Deesis, as well as of the suite of military saints in which he demonstrated an archaic vision, dominated by dark tones. Monk Michael painted episodes from Saint Nicholas’ life, as well as the figures of the Altar hierarchs, revealing a synthetic concept of the compositions. Later on, Tudoran the Painter painted the church of the fortified Court of Bâjești – Argeș (1669) where one may notice a laicization tendency and an obvious preoccupation for the portrayal of the characters of the votive picture. Thus, the portrait of the builder Dragomir is the first portrait of a worker in the history of mural painting of Wallachia.
In 1673, the painter Dima the Romanian together with George the Greek painted the church of the Topolnița hermitage – Mehedinți. A representative of the post-Byzantine art in the original and an autochthonous version of the painting of Wallachia, Dima the Romanian, together with George the Greek stood out by his monumentality and a good knowledge of the compositional organizations.
A main role in the art of the 17th century in Wallachia was played by the painting school from Hurezi – Vâlcea, founded around monastery built between 1690 and 1697, as a foundation of Constantin Brâncoveanu. The painting school from Hurezi was run by Constantinos, a painter of Greek origin, author of the decorations of some representative churches of the 17th century from Wallachia. Thus, between 1688 and 1689, together with the painter John, Constantinos painted the Lady Church from Bucharest, then, between 1693 and 1704, he painted the Great Church from Hurezi Monastery, together with the following painters: John, Andrew, Stan, Neagoe and Joachim. Considered to be the chief of the painting school from Hurezi, Constantinos was an adept of an Athonite painting, having an eclectic vision, with a supple drawing and an elegant and refined coloring.
The great church from Hurezi Monastery (1690 – 1693) presents an ample votive picture made of a true gallery of portraits of priceless artistic and documentary value. It represents Constantin Brâncoveanu with his entire numerous family, with his four sons and seven daughters, as well as his direct ancestors: the relatives of the Basarab and Cantacuzino family. The infirmary, a foundation of Lady Mary, Constantin Brâncoveanu’s wife, built in 1696, was painted by Preda, Nicolae and Ianache. The Saint Apostles
Hermitage of the same monastery complex from Hurezi, the foundation of the hegumen John of 1698, was painted in 1700 by the hierodeacon Josef and by the painter John and later on, in 1703, Ianache, Istrate and Hranite painted the Saint Stephen Hermitage, a foundation belonging to Stephen, Constantin Brâncoveanu the elder son.
Together with the first representatives of the painting school from Hurezi ran by the Greek Constantinos, other master painters appeared, like the already mentioned Hranite, together with Pârvu, Stephen, Simion, Istrate, George etc. The painting school from Hurezi was the most famous painting workshop in the history of Romanian medieval art. By practicing a refined eclecticism and by manifesting a special interest for decorations, the painting school from Hurezi promoted new suggestions of the post-Byzantine painting, of Cretan influence⁴, also promoting the approach to reality in the portrait representation.
The painting school from Hurezi influenced the entire Romanian painting of the 18th century. Seeming to continue the tradition initiated by Tudoran the Painter who, in 1669, at Băjeşti Muscel, was the one to create the first portrait of an artisan from Wallachia, namely the portrait of Dragomir the Builder, the image being colored in dark tones of black, coffee-tinted, red and white, some representatives of the School from Hurezi also made portraits of simple people, master builders, carpenters or house painters, in the porch of the Great Church from Hurezi. Joachim, a master painter of the School from Hurezi, painted the Great Church of the Hurezi Monastery (1694), as well as the Princeely Church from Târgovişte (1699). He made the portrait of master Istrate the carpanter on the walls of the verandah of the Great Church from Hurezi.
Assuming the idea of the compositional representations from Topolnita – Mehedinți, we also need to mention the valuable scene painted in 1673 by the painters George the Greek and Dima the Romanian, which is an unusual compositional representation for the iconography from Wallachia; it is a decoration of the Western façade of the church, representing the scene of the Doomsday, which is then frequently met in the iconography of Stephen the Great in Moldavia.
Another painting school, which is representative for this period, though without reaching the ampleness of the School of Hurezi, was the painting school from Câmpulung Muscel – Argeș, with the fortified church of Santa Marina, a school that also instructed numerous painters who worked especially over the Carpathians, in Bârsa Land. This is where the painter Ioan Negulici (19th century) took his first painting lessons.
⁴ Vasile Drăguț and Nicolae Sândulescu – Arta brâncovenească / The Brâncovean Art, Bucharest, 1971, as well as Vasile Drăguț - Dicționar enciclopedic… p. 171.
Another painter, iconographer and school creator developed his art and talent at the turn of the 17th – 18th centuries. We are talking about Pârvu Mutu (1657 – 1735), who worked both during the reign of Şerban Cantacuzino and of Constantin Brâncoveanu. Born in Câmpulung, but trained as an artist in the faraway north of Moldavia, Pârvu Mutu painted churches for the Cantacuzino family, in Filipeşti de Pădure, Măgureni, Lespezi, Bordeşti. His painting evolved towards an accentuation of the laic features, through the realistic dimension of the votive pictures containing the portraits of the postelnic Cantacuzino together with his family, in the church from Filipeşti de Pădure. He created one of the first self portraits marked by realism, like the one from the Bordeşti church, in which he is represented as a painter with a paintbrush in his hand. A remarkable drawer and a good colorist, Pârvu Mutu was a great painting teacher and his most important apprentice was Radu the Painter. Staying in the portrait area, the galleries of founders represented by Pârvu Mutu strongly anticipated the art of the portrait in Wallachia, an art that developed later, in the 19th century. A remarkable piece representing the portraitist work of Pârvu Mutu is the votive picture containing 55 characters, 1692, placed in the narthex of the Filipeşti de Pădure Church, an ample composition with a rich chromatic range representing figures that are clearly defined through a synthetic drawing of great evocative power.
2. Moldavia
In Moldavia, amid foundation and consolidation of the feudal state under the reign of Dragoş and Bogdan, the gothic tendencies mostly coming from Poland strongly influenced the architecture of certain churches, thus creating an original synthesis to which the local element also contributed. The Râdăuţi Church, founded by Petru I Muşat, the Ruler of Moldavia between 1375 and 1391, still proves this synthesis that led to the development of the later Moldavian style.
In the 15th century, a central figure of the Moldavian portrait art was Gabriel the Hieromonk, who is also considered to be the founder and leader of the painting workshop that made the interior painting from Bălineşti – Suceava in 1493. The votive picture representing the logothete Tăutu is considered to be one of the successes of the Moldavian portraiture, characterized by a vivid and realistic illustration, by a suppleness of the drawing and a shine of the chromatic harmonies. The fragments of exterior painting executed later, in the 16th century, during the reign of Petru Rareş, gracefully completes the tradition of the Moldavian religious painting inaugurated in Gabriel the Hieromonk’s workshop. Considered to be the most important artist of Stephen the Great’s era, he was the main author of the valuable painted composition from Bălineşti, a mural painting belonging to the Byzantine – Paleologue style, a painting characterized by grace and
nobleness, richness of the chromatic harmonies and by a note of humanism of the figures. The scenes from the Passions cycle, represented in a continuous, non-compartmentalized frieze came to define the new style imposed in the Moldavian mural painting of the next century.
Staying in the area of the mural painting of the 15th century in Moldavia, we should mention the mural paintings before 1481 from Dolheştii Mari-Suceava, the Saint Parascheva Church, founded by the hetman Şendrea, porter of Suceava. In the votive picture, the image of the hetman Şendrea is tributary to the characteristics of the first phase of Stephen the Great’s period in the religious painting, a feature that was preserved despite certain transformations subsequently suffered by the church construction, in the 18th century.
The interior frescoes of the Ascension Church from Neamţ, made in 1497, are also attributed to the 15th century. They are considered to be the last painting composition dating from Stephen the Great era, a composition that was subsequently affected by some repainting of the 19th century. Among the master painters, Nichita is mentioned in a document of 1415, during the reign of Alexander the Good (1400-1432), together with Dobre, as they were both hired to paint for several churches from Roman (in Târgul de Jos) and Rădăuţi, for the voivode Alexander the Good. We also have to mention Stephen the Painter, who is recorded in a document of 1425 where it is said that Alexander the Good gave him four villages as a reward, thus making the material proof of the artist’s high value and appreciation.
The analysis of the human face representation in the portraitist work of the 15th century would be incomplete if we do not mention the contribution of the embroidery workshops and of the miniaturists. The Moldavian embroidery developed during the reign of Stephen the Great (1457-1504) promoted a monumental vision, an expressive sobriety of the compositions, calm and noble chromatic harmonies, as well as a perfect technical execution. Several works of art like the Epitrachelion from Putna (1469), the Funeral veil of Mary of Mangop (1477), the Epitrachelion from Putna of 1480, containing the votive portraits of Stephen the Great and his son Alexander are recorded as remarkable examples. Other examples may be the following: the Dvera representing the Ascension (Putna -1484), the Dvera representing the Dormition (Putna – 1485), the Epitaph from Putna (1490), the Dvera from Putna representing the Crucifixion (1500) – containing the portraits of Stephen the Great and of Mary Voichiţa, the Dvera from Putna representing the Annunciation (1500) or the Epitrachelion from Dobrovăţ-Iaşi, made in 1504 and representing the embroidered portraits of Stephen the Great and Mary Voichiţa.
---
5 Vasile Drăguț – Dicționar enciclopedic...page 51. The Church of the Bălinești Court, Grămești commune -Suceava, a foundation of the logothete Tăutu before 1493.
In the case of miniature, both before and during the time of Stephen the Great, it was created by several high value miniaturist artists. The most important miniaturist of the 15th century was Gabriel Uric, a calligrapher and miniaturist coming from Neamț Monastery. By the making of the *Tetraevangelion* ordered by Lady Marina, the wife of Alexander the Good, in 1429, nowadays kept in the Bodleian Library of the Oxford University – England, Gabriel Uric proved the force of his talent in humanizing the expression of the characters he represented. By using a calm drawing, a particular chromatic refinement, soft harmonies, Gabriel Uric with his way of representing the four evangelists created a model that was then constantly continued by the Moldavian mural painters and miniaturists of the 15th century and of the following periods. A follower of the miniaturist Gabriel Uric, Theodore Mărișescu was an important representative of the calligraphic art and miniature from the time of Stephen the Great. Between 1491 and 1500, he illustrated five tetraevangels, richly adorned with frontispieces and miniatures, demonstrating his appetite for a solid construction of the composition, an elegance of the pagination, as well as for a large and natural drawing. Another artist, Philip, a miniaturist monk from the time of Stephen the Great, used a compositional scheme in which the stylized motif (geometrical, floral or zoomorphic) was extended by repetition. A remarkable example is represented by the *Tetraevangelion* made in 1502 that was offered as a gift to the Zografu Monastery, nowadays being part of the patrimony of the National Library of Vienna. Another calligrapher and miniaturist was Nicodim, author of the famous *Tetraevangelion from Humor* (1473) that contains the votive image of Stephen the Great in miniature. Together with the miniatures representing the four evangelists, Nicodim also created several frontispieces and initials. At Stephen the Great’s command, Pahomie, another calligrapher, copied the *Evangel from Voroneț* (1490), a remarkable work, famous for the beauty of its frontispieces, vignettes and initials, all made from gold and colours, nowadays part of the collections of the History Museum of Moscow, Russia. Just like Pahomie, another calligrapher and miniaturist, Palade remained known as the author of the *Evangel from Putna*. Made between 1488 and 1489, this work of the Moldavian decorative art is famous for its special decoration representing frontispieces and initials of an exceptional value.
Returning to painting and portrait representation in the religious painting from Moldavia, once with the next century, the 16th century, we witnessed the apogee of the religious painting development in the Moldavia of Peter IV Rareș; during his two reigns, the most representative works that remained until today were created: Voroneț, Humor, Moldovița, Probota, Dobrovăț, Hârlău etc.
Voroneț, which was built in 1488, during the reign of Stephen the Great, was enlarged in 1547, when the Metropolitan Gregory Roșca added an
opened porch. The nave preserved the original paintings characterized by the specialists through a marked monumental expression, a clarity and vigour of the drawing, as well as through a calm harmony of the colors. The church titivation brought to its present form after 1547, with exterior mural paintings, transformed Voroneţ and other churches treated on the same manner in a jewel of the Moldavian medieval art, remarkable for its chromatic harmony and the compositional rigor of the painted images. The presumptive author of the exterior paintings would be Mark Pristavu who created a really balanced compositional assembly, a kind of the Sistine Chapel of the East where the dominant color is the already famous Voroneţ blue.
Voroneţ shelters one of the most precious votive pictures of Stephen the Great, which was discovered quite recently, due to some operations of fresco cleaning. On this occasion, the specialists presumptively identified the real physiognomy of Stephen the Great, without a beard, with a short mustache, which is a different representation from that of the “iconography” that was known almost up to the end of the 19th century and that showed Stephen the Great wearing a beard, according to the “classic” model of the voivodal iconography. The narthex of the Voroneţ Church was painted in the same period.
Humor, a monastery founded in the 15th century by Oană the Vornic, was re-founded in 1530 by the logothete Theodore (Toader) Bubuiog. The external painting of the church, made in 1535, was executed by Thomas, the Court painter of Peter IV Rareş. The exterior of the church, which does not have a tower on the nave and it has an opened porch, presents a rigorously space distributed painting on the walls surface, with a warm chromatic harmony, doubled by a certain, graceful rhythmic of the drawing. The interior of the church was decorated by three masters, led by Thomas and it is still known for the exceptional quality of the painting from the narthex vault. At Humor, we record several votive pictures illustrating the portraits of Peter IV Rareş and his family, on one side, and the funeral picture of the Logothete Theodore Bubuiog and of his wife, Anastasia, on the other side. The Humor Church also has a valuable iconostasis and icons dating from the 16th century and made by the iconographer masters of the time.
Built in 1532 by Peter IV Rareş, the interior and exterior of the Moldoviţa Monastery Church were also painted five years later, in 1537, by
---
7 According to V. Drăguţ, the name of Mark Pristavu figures on an inscription painted on the Southern façade of the church.
8 Also see the oil portrait made by Gheorghe Asachi, found in Stephen’s the Great at Putna Monastery.
Thomas of Suceava, who was a painter and a team leader. The first Moldoviţa Monastery that was previously built in 1410 and known as “the new monastery” ruined because of the instability of the terrain it was built on. Just like at Humor, the portrait of Peter IV Rareş is presented in the votive picture from the nave, together with Lady Helen and their sons, Stephen and Iliiaş. In the votive picture from Humor, the voivode is illustrated together with Lady Helen and their only son, Iliiaş.
Thomas of Suceava can be considered not only a painter, but a great master of old art. A document from 1541, calls him “Thomas, painter of Suceava, courtier of the glorious and great Moldavian voivode Peter”.9 Author of the exterior frescoes from Humor (1535), he led the team of painters from Moldoviţa who worked two years later (1537) realizing a magnificent chromatic subtleness dominated by a warm red that covered a large compositional movement according to which the scenes were organized. The drawing is fine and firm through its varied and noble typology, demonstrating virtuosity and a solid schooling in the representation of the images inspired by the Old and New Testament. A representative work for Moldoviţa is the scene of the Siege of Constantinople.
Staying on the Northern Moldavia territory, we need to mention another great emblematic artist for the religious painting coming from the 16th century Moldavia, namely the painter Dragoş Coman (also known as Dragoş, the son of father Coman of Iaşi). Main author of the interior and exterior mural paintings from Arbore, Dragoş Coman created a successful synthesis between the traditional background of the autochthonous painting and the stylistic elements of the occidental art, in 1541.
Owner of a very supple drawing and of a noble and sparkling coloring, through the two votive pictures from the narthex and from the nave, Dragoş Coman made a varied and convincing typology, together with a perfect harmony and equilibrium of the compositional solutions.
In the votive picture from the narthex, on the southern wall, under the arcosolium, Dragoş Coman represented the hetmam Luca Arbore and his wife Juliana, together with their two deceased children, Theodore and Nichita. The votive picture situated on the western wall of the nave represents the hetman Luca Arbore together with his wife Juliana and all their five children. For the recognized qualities of his art, Dragoş Coman was considered the most important Romanian artist of the 16th century.10
Another foundation of Peter IV Rareş, the Proboţa Monastery Church, was also painted in 1532, both in the interior and the exterior. Later, the interior painting suffered some re-paintings, while from the exterior painting little was preserved, being mainly degraded.
9 Vasile Drăguţ – Dicţionar enciclopedic... p. 303.
ANASTASIS. Research in Medieval Culture and Art
The tradition of the votive pictures from Voroneț representing Stephen the Great, who is illustrated together with Mary Voichița and his son Bogdan, or the pictures from Pătrăuți, also from the 15th century (1487) where Stephen the Great is represented together with one of his daughters, also records the representation of Stephen the Great from the Descent of the Holy Spirit Church (1503-1504) from Dobrovăț–Iași. The painting, executed in 1529, surprises through the monumentality of the compositions, the expressivity of the drawing and an almost severe subtleness of the coloring. The votive picture represents Stephen the Great together with his son, Bogdan III (the One-Eyed) and Peter IV Rareş. The iconographic scenes from the walls of the Dobrovăț Church have a strongly monastic orientation, illustrating themes like The Ladder of Virtues or The Miracle of Saint Sava. The chapel and the gate tower are different from the rest of the monastery complex, presenting Baroque – Moldavian decorations belonging to the 18th century.
Of course, by going back to the representations of the painting from Pătrăuți, the Holy Cross Church, built in 1487 preserves the high artistic quality painting in which the portrait of Stephen the Great is considered to be one of the most beautiful representations of this voivode. Together with the votive picture, we may notice two other compositions of great value: the scene of the Grief, the Cavalcade of the Military Saints, clear works, of remarkable composition. The drawing is also refined and expressive, doubled by a subtle colouring that represents the Byzantine – Paleologue tradition assimilated to the Moldavian artistic environment. The Doomsday scene from the western façade was painted later, in the second half of the 16th century.
Also, from the period of Peter IV Rareș reign, we can mention the interior painting of the Saint George Church from Hârlău founded by his father Stephen the Great, a really valuable painting, assimilated to the great contemporary creations of Northern Moldavia. Towards the end of the 16th century, one can record the works of two other important painters, John and Sofronie, masters of the mural painting compositions decorating the Sucevița Monastery Church, built before 1596. Even today, it continues to impress with the richness of the painted adornment decorating both the interior and the exterior of the Sucevița Monastery, the compositions that are dominated by the epic spirit, in a diverse chromatic range dominated by green, as the painting has a strongly ornamental orientation, receptive to the innovations of the Renaissance painting. The drawing refinement is accompanied by a varied and harmonious coloring, sprinkled with subtle modulations of chromatic intensity.
It also surprises the savant distribution of the compositional units in scenes that became emblems of Sucevița: The Ladder of Virtues, The Bringing of Saint John the New of Suceava Relics, The Legend of Saint Nicholas or The Legend of Moses. As regards the portraitist’s art, the votive
picture in the nave represents the family of the voivode Ieremia Movilă. The Prince is accompanied by the following persons: Mary, the voivode’s mother, followed by Lady Elisafeta, Ieremia Movilă’s wife and three sons and five daughters. The above mentioned physiognomies are vivid, full of expressiveness, demonstrating the influences of the Renaissance style representations coming from the West. The perceptible difference between the way in which a portrait is represented, for example, the portrait of the Logothete Tăutu from the votive picture from Bălinești (16th century) made by Gabriel the Hieromonk and the portrait representations from the end of the 16th century made by John and Sofronie, exempts the viewer from any other comment.
Also towards the end of the 16th century, the documents record George (Ghiorghi) and Gregory (Gligori) as builders of the Aroneanu Church – Iași, built in 1594 and, probably, the Hlincea Church – Iași, also built in 1597. The record of these monuments is connected more to their quality of bearers of the Wallachian influences over the Moldavian architecture, influences that were felt at the turn of the 16th and 17th centuries.
Together with these great names of the autochthonous religious painting, we should also mention the names of some painters who came from abroad, like George of Tricala, who died in 1530, a painter from Thessaly and Stamatello Cotronas, a Greek painter. George of Tricala is believed to have painted the Holy Cross Church from Pătrăuți and the Saint Procopius Church from Milișauți.11 Deceased in 1530, he was buried in the Saint George Church from Hârlău. His funeral stone is preserved at the National Art Museum from Bucharest. In his turn, Stamatello Cotronas made the exterior mural paintings of the Râșca Monastery Church, on the southern façade, which is better preserved, representing sequences from The Life of Saint Anthony and fragments from the composition called The Ladder of Vertues. Punctually, we also should mention the existence of some other valuable compositions of mural paintings dating from the 16th century, both in the chapel of the Bistrița Monastery Church, Alexander the Good’s necropolis and in Părhăuți, where the All Saints’ Church, built in 1522 by the logothete Gabriel Trotușan, shelters a mural painting that was executed after 1530, illustrating a rigorous and cursive drawing, an elegance of the contours, but most of all the presence of some realist, plastic observation elements.
Of course, in the decorative arts as well, the presence of portrait representation continued its evolution began in the previous century. We are talking about the great and the small dvera from Slatina made in 1561 representing the portrait of Alexander Lăpușneanu together with Lady Ruxandra, the voivode’s wife. At the turn of the 15th and 16th centuries, we should mention Zosima and Mardarie, the first Romanian embroidery masters, famous authors of the dvera from the Putna Monastery, given by
11 Vasile Drăguț – Dicționar enciclopedic... p. 152. The artist’s birth year is unknown.
Bogdan III the One-Eyed, son of Stephen the Great, in 1510. The dvera has a representation of the Dormition, with no equivalent in the Byzantine art from the point of view of the iconography,\(^\text{12}\) equally proving in a superlative manner, the unique artistic qualities of the composition, from the point of view of drawing and chromatics. The Putna Monastery, a strong monastic center built by Stephen the Great between 1466 and 1469, which subsequently became a voivodal necropolis, is a strong artistic center able to coagulate the great artistic energies of the two centuries, the 15\(^{th}\) and the 16\(^{th}\). Its influence as an artistic center also extended over the next century, especially after the reconstruction of the church between 1654 and 1662 by Vasile Lupu and George Stephen. In the 16\(^{th}\) century, we find Spiridon of Putna, a calligrapher and miniaturist who, inheriting Gabriel Uric with his large and firm drawing, created the Gospel of 1502 that still impresses by the solid artistic construction and the elegance of the pagination.
Staying on the Moldavian territory, especially the field of the embroidery and miniature workshops of the 17\(^{th}\) century, we talk about one of the most important Romanian scholars, miniaturists and artists of the Middle Ages, Anastasie Crimca (Crimcovici). Born in the second half of the 16\(^{th}\) century, somewhere between 1605 and 1608, he was bishop of Roman and twice, between 1608 and 1617 and between 1619 and 1629, Metropolitan of Moldavia and a founder of the Dragomirna Monastery. He created several graceful, brilliant miniatures by which he proved a surprising compositional inventiveness and a predilection to narration. He also cultivated an expressive graphism and decorativism, he made a Liturgical Book in 1610, a Gospel in 1614 and a Psalter in 1616. Regarding the present investigation theme, we need to mention that in the Gospel of 1614, Anastasi e Crimca made his self portrait that is nowadays preserved in the Dragomirna Monastery Museum.
Once consecrated, the tradition of embroidery in the Moldavian decorative art constantly cultivated the voivodal portraitist representations. At the beginning of the 17\(^{th}\) century, the funeral veil for Ieremia Movilă (1606) and for his brother, Simion Movilă (1608) were created under the influence of the Polish Court portrait, of Sarmatic influence\(^\text{13}\). The portrait of Ieremia Movilă is “the only one in the art of the Moldavian laic embroidery in which aulic intentionality is outlined... and the first psychological portrait in the Romanian medieval art” (see, next\(^\text{15}\), Maria Ana Muzicescu, The Medieval Embroidery ...). Later, during the reign of Vasile Lupu (1634-1653) we can
\(^{12}\) Vasile Drăguț – *Dicționar enciclopedic...* p. 322. Masterpiece of the Moldavian medieval embroidery, representing the Dormition in the center and medallions of the 12 citadels where the apostles were preaching at the time of the Dormition on the margins.
ANASTASIS. Research in Medieval Culture and Art
mention the embroidered portraits of Lady Tudosca, the voivode’s wife and of his son, John, two portraits that, together with the votive representations from the Churches of the Three Hierarchs or Golia – Iaşi, preface the appearance and development of the realist portrait.
During the 17th century, we can mention several church painters, respectable successors of the religious painting workshops tradition of the previous centuries. Thus, in the Dragomirna Monastery Church – Suceava, a foundation built by Anastasie Crimca between 1606 and 1609, the nave preserves precious mural paintings executed by the masters Crăciun, Mătieş, Ignat and Gligorie. The painter Crăciun is considered to be the main master of the paintings from the nave and altar of the Dragomirna Church (1610). Together with Mătieş, Ignat and Gligorie, Crăciun recurred to an accentuated complication of the architectonic compositions and backgrounds, according to a vision of his own, with strong decorative tendencies.
Towards the half of the 17th century, Vasile Lupu brings foreign masters to decorate the interior of the Three Hierarchs Monastery from Iaşi, a commercial center that became the capital city of Moldavia even from the time of Alexandru Lăpuşneanu’s reign (1564). A jewel of the decorative art, sculpted in stone and gilded, the interior of the Three Hierarchs Monastery Church had to be painted in order to be worthy to be the place meant to shelter Saint Parascheva of the Balkans relics, redeemed for a great amount of money given by the voivode to pay the debts of the Constantinople Patriarchy, a church that temporarily became a Metropolitan Church as well. That is why Vasile Lupu brought to Iaşi the Muscovite master Sidor Pospeev, who also worked on Miron Barnovschi’s order, between 1628 and 1629, together with the painters Iacov Gavrilov, Deico Iacovliev and Pronca Nichitin. Between 1641 and 1642, these four masters painted the Three Hierarchs Monastery Church from Iaşi, realizing a special painting in which the fresco facing was made according to the Russian recipe, with rice straws. There is a lot to tell about the prosperous reign of Vasile Lupu, but at the same time we could talk about the enlightened era of Varlaam Moţoc, the Metropolitan of Moldavia, who, between 1632 and 1653, supported the politics of construction and endowment of the churches of Vasile Lupu’s Moldavia. From Varlaam’s time, we still have proofs of exterior painting on the southern façade of the Saint Elijah Church from Ţcheia – Suceava, built starting with 1488, during the reign of Stephen the Great, a church that is very similar to the one from Voroneţ, built in the same year. On the interior, the Saint Elijah Church from Ţcheia – Suceava shelters the votive picture of Stephen the Great and his family.
Going back to the Three Hierarchs Monastery Church, the votive picture represents the portrait of Lady Tudosca, John, Vasile Lupu’s children and the portrait of the voivode himself. On the occasion of the empiric restoration made at the end of the 19th century, when the monument was demolished in
order to be rebuilt, with certain architectural modifications, the *Three Hierarchs* Church lost its original painting made by Pospeev and his team. A few pickled fragments (about 20) were preserved, being deposited partly in the National Art Museum of Bucharest and partly in the deposit of the *Three Hierarchs* Church from the Gothic Hall – Iași, the ex refectory of the monastery. Among these fragments, the viewer might be surprised by the beauty of an angel head, made by the Muscovite masters in a realistic manner and with great sensitivity.
The second church, built and decorated during the reign of Vasile Lupu, was the Golia Monastery Church from Iași, a foundation of the Logothete John Golăi and his wife, Anna. The church has existed from the 16th century, under a basic form, its construction being continued and defined with the help of Vasile Lupu, with a new architecture that reunites the Eastern tradition with elements of late Western-European Renaissance architecture, in a surprisingly unitary and natural whole. The painter who painted the interior of the church was an autochthonous master, Mathew, son of John, who performed the most valuable mural décor of that epoch from the 1660 Moldavia. Preserved until today, partially in original, some of the paintings were partly and clumsily remade in the 18th century. Visiting this church on February 3rd 1653, Paul of Aleppo mentioned its beauty, also remarking the existence of an old and “miraculous icon of Virgin Mary” inside the church. From Paul of Aleppo we also have a description of the votive picture representing Vasile Lupu with his Lady and daughters, as well as Stephen, son of Vasile Lupu. According to some researchers the traces of older painting discovered on the porch and narthex walls and brought to surface on the occasion of a restoration performed in 1943, by the way in which the characters are distributed, prove that Vasile Lupu did not demolish the old church built in the 16th century, but it enclosed it in the new construction made between 1650 and 1653, only remaking the altar, doubling its length and making it higher. In fact, a graffito mentioning *anno 1594* was brought out on the porch walls, without giving any certitude that the said sign dates from the time of the first founder of the old church, the logothete Golăi.
It is interesting to notice that some researchers consider that the painter Mathew, son of John, the one that is believed to have performed the interior painting of the Golia Church in 1660, is, in fact, only a restorer of these paintings, the restoration being made much later, in 1838. During the same period, another master, Sylvan the Painter executed the mural painting of the *Saint Michael* Church from Rădeana – Neamț (1652), another master painter,
---
15 Ana Dobjanschi and Victor Simion –*Artă în timpul lui Vasile Lupu / Art during the Reign of Vasile Lupu*, page 46, as well as Vasile Drăguț - *Dicționar enciclopedic...* pp. 154 and 173.
16 Vasile Drăguț - Encyclopedic *Dictionary of Romanian Medieval Art*, p. 198. The author does not give the names of those researchers.
painted for Ștefăniță Lupu in 1660 the Hlincea Church near Iași, a foundation of Mary Zotta, the daughter of Peter V the Lame.
The last great composition of mural painting from Moldavia, executed according to the Post-Byzantine traditions, was the interior painting composition from the Cetățuia Monastery Church – Iași, a foundation of Gheorghe Duca of 1672. The painting was made by a complex team made of the painters Michael, Dima and George of Ianina and the painters Nicholas and Stephen of Iași.
Despite a certain heterogeneity mainly determined by the contribution of some master painters coming from outside Moldavia, one can certainly state that the 17th century is Vasile Lupu’s era in the Romanian culture as the 19 years of regency represented a real epoch just like in the case of the reign of Stephen the Great and of Peter IV Rareș (15th – 16th centuries).
The last example could be that of the creation of another master painter, Joseph of Vatopedi who, at the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the next century, made valuable paintings like those from the Domnition Church of Deleni – Hărâlău (Iași), initially built between 1668 and 1669 and then transformed, in 1722.
In its faithful contact with the art and culture of its neighbors, whether it was Wallachia or Transylvania, or the strong influence coming from Poland, the Romanian medieval art from Moldavia did not transpose, but each time it creatively interpreted those elements that were accepted and assimilated, the interpretation being produced including the level of the voivodal or boyar portraiture, taking into account the specific data, determined by the existence of the Romanian spiritual background protected by the Orthodoxy shield, without excluding the non-Orthodox influences coming from the West or the Christian influences coming from the Russian East.
Bibliography:
Drăguț, Vasile, Pictura murală din Transilvania (sec. XIV-XV) / The Mural Painting of Transylvania (14th –15th centuries), București, 1970,
Drăguț, Vasile and Sândulescu, Nicolae, Arta brâncovenescă // The Brancovean Art, București, 1971
Muzicescu, Maria Ana, Broderia medievală românească / The Romanian Medieval Embroidery, , Meridiane P.H., București, 1969.
Theodorescu, Răzvan and Oprea, Ioan, *Piatra Trei Ierarhilor / The Stone of the Three Hierarchs*, Meridiane P.H., București, 1979
|
Architects’ Perception of Quality of Life—Impact, Practice, and Barriers
Stine Lea Jacobi 1,∗ and Thomas Bjørner 2,∗
1 Realdania, Jarmers Plads 2, 1551 Copenhagen, Denmark
2 Department of Architecture, Design and Media Technology, Aalborg University, A.C. Meyersvaenge 15, 2450 Copenhagen, Denmark
∗ Correspondence: slj@realdania.dk (S.L.J.); tbj@create.aau.dk (T.B.)
Abstract: This study intended to identify the perception of quality of life (QoL) among architects, how architecture can impact QoL, and which barriers architects perceive to impact QoL. Numerous studies have emphasized the significance of the built environment in determining QoL, especially in institutional buildings. However, there has been less focus on how architects perceive QoL and how the concept is applied in their planning and design for residential buildings. The contribution of this study is to provide an increasingly important awareness of how to improve the architects’ considerations to build for QoL. The study is based on qualitative data from in-depth interviews with ten architects and one workshop with seven architects. The participants were selected by quota sampling and were all partners or owners of Danish architectural firms that provide housing services and are representative of the Danish architectural industry. The results reveal that the perceptions of QoL among architects are linked to three primary dimensions: health, a sense of harmony, and the experience of enchantment. The participants perceived that architectural design could impact QoL in three primary dimensions: the environment, the experience of enchantment, and health. The most frequent perceived barriers are linked to the economy and resources, building codes and regulations, and knowledge and communication.
Keywords: quality of life; architects; residential buildings; in-depth interviews; projective techniques; content analysis; sense of community; shared space
1. Introduction
There is a growing awareness and interest in the connection between quality of life (QoL) and the built environment. Attention is shifting from traditional economic metrics such as GDP to include QoL when evaluating and certifying the impact and value of architectural design [1,2]. The development has sparked several private and philanthropic initiatives, such as the Quality-of-Life Foundation [3], that work to ensure that homes are acquired, planned, built, and managed to actively provide a better QoL. However, architecture for improved QoL is a complex process that balances the interests, influence, and values of various stakeholders. Architectural firms play a significant part in the process because they produce architectural designs in a spatial synthesis of demands of the market, authorities, and the end users. Architectural design impacts the built environment and the QoL, which is realized through many perspectives in various contexts. QoL is a complex and multifaceted concept with no clear or agreed definition, and likewise, in the field of architecture, it comes with various definitions and contexts [1,2]. It usually refers to the general well-being of individuals and societies, and often, it describes relationships, dynamics, and networks that exist among physical features [4]. A commonly used understanding of QoL is the “goodness of life” and the ability to live happily and successfully within the environment [2,5]. However, as other scholars have emphasized, it becomes difficult to differentiate between related notions such as well-being, satisfaction, happiness, urban QoL, community QoL, neighborhood quality, and sense of community [1,2,4,6,7].
The beginning of the QoL concept can be traced back to the early philosophical period (427–322 BC) [2], with characteristics of happiness serving as the central objective of a good life, defined by attitudes, feelings, and beliefs [2]. Although society and worldviews have changed dramatically since the time of Socrates and Aristotle, some historical factors determine how QoL is perceived today. The characteristics of a good life are still essential to the individual and his or her environment. Yadava and Gupta [2] provide a valuable historical perspective of QoL and include some of the complexities and conditions of QoL. Interestingly, QoL is still founded on the basic idea that people should live a good life, which includes both internal and external conditions, where, in particular, external aspects may be beyond individuals’ control.
Despite its long history, architecture has adopted and implemented QoL quite late in terms of specific design implementations. However, over the past few decades, there has been a shift in the overall perception of QoL, and numerous studies have emphasized the significance of built environments (both indoor and outdoor) in determining QoL [8–12], as the built environment can stimulate a safe environment; provide income opportunities; and support health, education, and recreation [2]. Lots of previous research has been carried out on the built environment and QoL in institutional settings with older or vulnerable user groups [13–17]. There is also a substantial amount of research addressing the notion of sustainable development and its relationship with QoL on macro levels (theoretical and political), e.g., for municipalities, communities, and neighborhoods [1,4,5,9,11,18]. However, further perspectives on how architects specifically understand and build for QoL are missing. Most often, architectural firms have a specific framework and building codes with a set of outliers for the urban planning and building plan. The developers, architects, civil engineers, and other stakeholders play essential roles in planning a successful building construction project. Even though the architectural firm alone does not decide how the housing and urban environment should be when building with the consideration of QoL, it is essential to understand how architects perceive QoL. This study is based on the following research questions:
RQs: What is the perception of QoL among Danish architects, how can architecture impact QoL, and what barriers do architects perceive to building for QoL in their architectural practice?
2. Materials and Methods
2.1. Participants
The study is based on qualitative data from in-depth interviews with ten architects and one workshop with seven architects. The emphasis on qualitative methods was intended to provide knowledge of complex relationships with the architects’ values and perceptions of QoL. The ten participants (Table 1) were chosen from Danish architectural firms that provide services in housing and are representative of the Danish architectural industry; they were selected by quota sampling [19], using industry expertise and information sourced from company websites, ensuring diversity in gender, company size, market position, and region. In total, 6 out of 10 participants are employed in large companies (+40 employees), as companies of this size account for over 60% of architect employment. A validation check, conducted by two independent stakeholders, included reflections on varied market positions and design approaches. The participants were all owners, partners, or associated partners with formal responsibility for architectural design. Most of the participants had more than 15 years of experience. The participants were selected from members of the Danish Association of Architectural Firms (including 5000 architects from 700 firms), which is a trade and industry organization for private consulting architectural firms. All participants gave informed consent, and they were informed that they could withdraw from the study at any time. In addition, all participants were provided anonymized ID numbers, and all data were labeled with these IDs.
Table 1. Included participants for interviews and the workshop.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>ID</th>
<th>Gender</th>
<th>Role</th>
<th>Years of Practice</th>
<th>No. of Staff</th>
<th>Region</th>
<th>Workshop Participant</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td>Male</td>
<td>Owner</td>
<td>>15</td>
<td>10–19</td>
<td>Capital</td>
<td>Yes</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td>Female</td>
<td>Partner, owner</td>
<td>>15</td>
<td>20–29</td>
<td>Southern Denmark</td>
<td>Yes</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td>Female</td>
<td>Partner</td>
<td><15</td>
<td>20–29</td>
<td>Northern Denmark</td>
<td>Yes (online)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td>Male</td>
<td>Owner</td>
<td>>15</td>
<td>+40</td>
<td>Capital</td>
<td>No</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td>Female</td>
<td>Partner</td>
<td>>15</td>
<td>+40</td>
<td>Capital</td>
<td>Yes</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td>Male</td>
<td>Partner, owner</td>
<td>>15</td>
<td>+40</td>
<td>Mid Jutland</td>
<td>No</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td>Male</td>
<td>Partner, owner</td>
<td>>15</td>
<td>+40</td>
<td>Mid Jutland</td>
<td>No</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8</td>
<td>Male</td>
<td>Owner</td>
<td>>15</td>
<td>1–4</td>
<td>Capital</td>
<td>Yes</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9</td>
<td>Male</td>
<td>Co-partner</td>
<td>>15</td>
<td>+40</td>
<td>Capital</td>
<td>Yes</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10</td>
<td>Female</td>
<td>Partner, owner</td>
<td>>15</td>
<td>+40</td>
<td>Mid Jutland</td>
<td>Yes</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
2.2. Procedure
The procedure consisted of in-depth interviews with ten participants and a workshop with seven participants. The ten in-depth interviews were guided by a semi-structured interview guide with four themes: architectural quality, QoL, architecture’s impact on QoL, and barriers for QoL in architecture. As a central part of the interview, the participants performed four tasks using projective techniques [19], which can be especially useful within research focused on issues that the participants find difficult to discuss. For some architects, QoL can be rather difficult to talk about (e.g., as being too diffuse or not very well defined), and projective techniques can be a useful method as part of an opening question or ice breaker to have the participant talk within an already given framework [19–22]. Table 2 shows the tasks with projective methods [22–24] used during the in-depth interviews.
Table 2. Tasks and projective methods in the interviews.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Task</th>
<th>Method</th>
<th>Description</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td>Free association</td>
<td>The participants were asked to freely associate an example of multi-residential housing types (apartment buildings, townhouses, dormitories, etc.) that they related with architectural quality. They were asked to elaborate on (1) why it was an example of architectural quality and (2) how they perceived that the architecture impacted QoL.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td>Card sorting</td>
<td>Twenty-one words related to QoL were written alphabetically on one card. The words were inspired by Eger and Maridal’s [25] classification of various QoL concepts. Participants were asked to (1) choose five words that they perceived impacted QoL and (2) elaborate on their choices.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td>Card sorting</td>
<td>Participants were presented with the same card showing 21 words as in Task 2 and asked to (1) choose 5 words out of 21 that they perceived architecture could impact the most and (2) elaborate on their choices.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
For Task 1, in the free association method [22–24], participants were asked to mention what came to their minds when they thought of a particular stimulus—in this case, their immediate example of one multi-residential house related to architectural quality. The method of free association has the advantage of its spontaneous character and its projective dimension, allowing for faster access to elements that establish the context and semantic universe of the term studied [23]. The free association technique ensures that the participant elicits realistic cognitions and feelings [23] of architectural quality from their point of view. Thus, the participant can be more engaged in the interview and provide further reasons,
emotions, and experiences via departures from the immediate mentioned example [23,24].
Tasks 2 and 3 used card sorting as part of the projective technique. The card sorting method is aligned with the constructivist approach and more particularly with personal construct theory [26], which is based on the premise that participants make sense of the world by categorizing it, and they can describe their categorization of the world with reasonable validity and reliability [27]. Card sorting was used as a gateway for stimulating reflections and as a method for content analysis.
The workshop was used as validation and took place three months after the interviews. This validation included assessing whether the QoL variables were consistent with those found in the interviews. The workshop consisted of two tasks for the participants (Table 3).
**Table 3. Tasks in the validation workshop.**
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Task</th>
<th>Method</th>
<th>Description</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td>Card sorting</td>
<td>Participants were given photos of six housing buildings identified in Task 1 (from the in-depth interviews) as examples of architectural quality. They were asked to rank the photos, first, according to how they perceived that the architecture positively impacted resident QoL, and second, how they perceived the architecture positively impacted residents’ sense of community.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td>Matrix, Organizing and prioritizing</td>
<td>The participants were presented with a matrix. The X-axis was labeled “maturity to adopt the idea in the architectural firms” (small, medium, and large), and the Y-axis was labeled “impact potential of the action” (small, medium, and large). They were asked to (1) discuss and write down ideas on how architectural firms could promote QoL in housing construction, (2) place their notes in the matrix, and (3) elaborate on their thoughts. This task was established to provide a discussion on barriers to promoting QoL in new buildings.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
For the workshop, the participants were divided into three groups. All the conversations during the workshop were recorded, including the notetaking by three researchers, following the condensed account [28], in which all notes were taken from the actual observation and were used to create a condensed version of what was said.
**2.3. Data Analysis**
Two coders analyzed the interview data using content analysis. The interview data were organized in a spreadsheet after being transcribed by the first coder and quality-checked by the second. Codes were developed based on the procedure for intercoder reliability [29]. Two coders coded the interviews independently, following a comparison and discussion to develop a common set of codes. Finally, the codes were validated by a third researcher who had not participated in the coding process. As part of a qualitative validation, drafted findings were distributed to the participants as in a member check; five responded with few or no comments, and five did not respond.
**3. Results**
**3.1. Housing Examples Associated with Quality in Architecture**
Figure 1 shows which housing examples the architects first related (free association) to architectural quality. The selected examples varied in user groups (students, singles, and families), ownership forms (owner-occupied, private rental, and public housing), building categories (new construction, transformation, and renovation), and typologies (low-rise, high-rise, and row housing).
However, there are also common architectural design principles from the selected examples. All examples, except Maison de Verre, are from a Danish context. It is also very interesting that, independent from each other, architects chose the same example twice—Vestersøhus and the Tietgen dormitory. The architectural examples are also social
representations, to a high degree [30], with a shared cultural and contextual common sense from the included architects. The examples are also very alike within a Danish historical tradition, embodied within the collective memory of familiar and architecturally recognized buildings. However, the Tietgen Dormitory is suggested as a listed building.
Table 4 outlines qualitative descriptions of how the participants associated the chosen buildings with QoL. In general, the participants highlighted the context and qualities of the housing sites as significant factors for QoL. Participants linked view of the sky, daylight levels, and access to outdoor spaces and nature positively with QoL.
Figure 1. Housing examples that the architects associated with architectural quality.
Table 4. Housing examples with ascribed QoL and verbatim descriptions from the participants.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Housing Example</th>
<th>How It Supports QoL (Verbatim Examples from the Participants)</th>
</tr>
</thead>
</table>
| Maison de Verre | “I can just remember almost fainting when I saw it... in Maison de Verre, you are provided with daylight and transparency... and you can feel it”. ID-5.
“At Maison de Verre, they built what they dreamed of, and there is QoL in having influence”. Workshop, ID-7.
“I think Maison ... reflects my sense of QoL... where all qualities are optimized”. ID-5. |
| Bellavista | “Sea view is important to QoL, and everyone has equal access to it and there is a sense of togetherness in the shape of the estate”. ID-7.
“It was typical for its time... but it is still equally attractive in a new societal context. So, it is an example of something that has quality and durability”. ID-7. |
| Klintegaarden | “It’s a building that fits in the location very well. There are some very basic elements of a good view, a good apartment layout, and a good large balcony for all—things that I think give the residents daily well-being... You have the feeling of being in a building where things have been thought through”. ID-6.
“There is also a large common area where you can meet each other... So a lot of thought has gone into the matter of seeing each other and meeting. And of course, it is also helped by the fact that the homes are organized around this shared courtyard, where you move around and see each other”. Workshop, ID-5. |
| Vestershus | “It’s designed for QoL, for example, with the open kitchen and the courtyards... The fact that you have a small area that is yours, and next some public space. The mediation between landscape and privacy, the scale, makes these small houses feel big”. ID-04.
“Speaking of the Kingo houses, they are cheap, high QoL, fantastic with a small front garden, and down to earth”. Workshop I-D3. |
| Kingo houses | “To me, Tietgen is the ultimate piece of architecture. The circular shape and the private living spaces at the outer ring, and the common spaces located around the inner courtyard. I think it contains everything that architecture can be in the most beautiful form. So the residents are both part of the city on the outside, but you also have a community with those you live with, and you have a community around your own kitchen and your own room”. ID-P08.
“It is designed so you don’t feel alone and tied at the end of a dead end. The building organizes the communities and flow of people. The smaller community, it starts in your hallway and your communal kitchen, and you can connect with that community, just like you can connect with the community of the entire dormitory. And then there is also the community with the city, which many residents use”. ID-P02.
“QoL is so closely tied to something that is outside the building”. Workshop, ID-7.
“The community works best in places where there are no individual kitchens. Because then, you’re forced to go out and get a glass of milk or whatever...”. Workshop, ID-2.
“Tietgen creates community and engages the young. I think it is the best new example of good architecture that creates both joy and community”. Workshop, D2. |
To promote a sense of community and enhance QoL on a city scale, the participants emphasized designing ground floors with varied edge zones that were open to the wider public. It is also noteworthy that the participants, besides the importance of shared space, also emphasized the importance of providing inhabitants with opportunities for privacy. The shared space is also mentioned in the literature as one of the factors that can be a facilitator for QoL [31–33], as it is indicative of rising levels of trust and common concerns about the space [34]. Encouraging a sense of community was mentioned as a key driver for organizing spaces in the buildings, especially in student housing (e.g., Tietgen), while securing a sense of privacy and opportunities for interaction was the primary spatial strategy in family housing. Community design involves functional strategies, such as providing communal spaces in- and outside; spatial strategies, such as adding more openings, doors, and passages, increasing the possibility of daily encounters; or providing transition zones, such as semiprivate gardens, terraces, and balconies, where inhabitants could meet informally. Zoning and visual contact were applied as spatial strategies in student and family housing as a way of breaking down barriers of contact and allowing for a progression toward autonomy in the private residence.
3.2. What Impacts QoL
Figure 2 shows the categories of the cards the participants chose based on Task 2 in the interview. The participants were asked to choose 5 cards (out of 21) that they perceived to have a positive impact on QoL. There was some word written on each card. The used words are revealed in light grey in Figure 2. The participants were not informed about the labels of the categories, marked in bold in Figure 2.
The content analysis in Figure 2 revealed that the sub-elements in harmony and health were chosen equally, with 11 cards. The predominant card chosen in harmony was freedom (five times), and the predominant card chosen in health was physical health (seven times).
There was much emphasis on health as a variable influencing QoL. When elaborating on chosen concepts within the health category, participants emphasized health as a fundamental human need. Even though some of the participants mentioned that they believed physical and mental health to be interlinked, several made the point that physical health is underprioritized in design, listing access to outdoor facilities such as balconies, gardens, and daylight, as well as indoor climate, design, and planning that promote physical movement, such as attractive stairs and pedestrian and bicycle spaces. When the participants elaborated on their card choices in the harmony category, the answers were not as specific as in the health category. However, the participants highlighted the sense of feeling secure as a very fundamental part of QoL, with some linking it to a sense of belonging. The participants mentioned the importance of linking a sense of security with contact and relation to neighbors and the near community. Some of the participants also mentioned the importance of facilitating this security by providing open views so that the residents can see what happens outside.
3.3. How Can Architecture Impact QoL?
The participants were asked to choose 5 dimensions of QoL out of a total of 21 that they perceived had a positive impact on QoL. Each subdimension was subsequently ascribed to a category and summed up across participants (n = 10). The participants perceived that architecture could impact QoL in three primary dimensions: environment (14 cards), the experience of enchantment (14 cards), and health (7 cards). Figure 3 reveals the categories of the chosen cards.
Figure 3. Frequency of selected cards with variables of QoL that architecture can impact.
Table 5 contains various verbatim examples of the statements within the three main selected categories, environment, enchantment, and health.
Table 5. Verbatim examples within environment, beauty, and physical health.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Category</th>
<th>Verbatim Examples</th>
</tr>
</thead>
</table>
| Environment | “It’s also difficult to live in a home if it doesn’t support the basic things that you need to be happy, including a good daylight and good room height, and access to the outside”. ID-2.
“For me, QoL is impacted by physical surroundings, beauty, and sensuousness… I believe that when you get your dream home, or you fulfill some other dream, it gives you an enormous QoL, and it changes something in your physical and mental well-being”. ID-3.
“The home is something architecture can influence… how we live every single day… a correctly placed window with the right morning light, shining in, can make the difference of a good start to the day”. ID-5. |
| Beauty | “I believe beauty is an essential aspect of QoL. I think many people don’t truly realize it; sure, they can appreciate a beautiful sunset or nature somewhere. But the beauty of light flooding into a home, the beauty of order—I don’t think everyone is blessed with that. Yet, I believe they still sense it. It is important for me, at least, for my well-being, and I think it is for many others too, even if they are not aware of it”. ID-8.
“. . .I think especially the presence or experience of beauty can help bridge some other aspects of life that might not necessarily be ideal, and still install a sense of purpose”. ID-7.
“We influence people’s living conditions, how they, in one way or another, live... and then we have the opportunity to influence the surroundings in terms of their beauty”. ID-1. |
| Physical health | “Airflow is one of the basic elements that must be in place. It sounds banal, but very unfortunately, we often fail in this”. ID-03.
“I simply believe that bad spaces and under-lit, cramped living spaces are bad for physical health… living in an ugly place with a bad view and a balcony from which people can look in makes people sick”. ID-8.
“You can promote physical health with mobility and infrastructure, exercise….. But some layers are deeper than that, which we rarely recognize in our architecture, or in the way we live”. ID-4. |
In the interviews, participants pointed to the fact that architecture has obvious effects on the environment (Table 5) as their reason for choosing the environment as a key variable of QoL that architecture can impact. They emphasized architects’ critical role in designing the environment and the responsibility that follows, especially when designing homes that affect daily lives. The understanding of beauty was heterogeneous; some participants perceived beauty as a design tool for QoL, while others perceived it as a design goal with QoL as a positive side effect, and some endowed beauty with the capacity to counteract the negative impact of other variables of QoL. Across the positions, participants agreed that beauty is a profound dimension of QoL and a key variable that architecture could influence. Health was also seen as a variable that architecture can impact, not only in the home but also in workplaces or institutions, such as schools or healthcare. Some emphasized indoor climate as key to QoL in architecture; others, the spatial, functional, and aesthetical qualities of the design; and some, the way design at various scales can promote movement. Variables within the community category were chosen by fewer participants, even though the keyword analysis of interviews showed that almost all the participants highlighted the experience of community as something that architecture can affect. The validation workshop underscored this, with participants emphasizing organizing individual dwellings around common spaces and creating visual connections, as well as communal functions such as laundry and shared outdoor spaces, as ways of designing for the community and QoL.
3.4. Barriers to Building for QoL
One of the themes of this study was to investigate factors that the participants perceived as barriers to building for QoL. The analysis reveals that the most commonly perceived barriers were economy/resources and building codes/regulations (Table 6). However, it is also interesting that several participants explicitly contradicted the idea that the economy is a barrier to building for QoL, perceiving the economy as a condition. Another commonly perceived barrier among the architects was the lack of knowledge of how to build for QoL (especially concerning evidential effects) and their capabilities to communicate their design choices. Clients and/or owners were also mentioned as a barrier (Table 6), as they were perceived to call for well-known housing formats that have proven themselves in the market. The economic barrier was often mentioned as being linked to the client or owner.
Table 6. Frequency of coded statements within four themes concerning barriers to building for QoL (total out of 94 coded words).
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Theme</th>
<th>Frequency</th>
<th>Verbatim Examples</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Economy and resources</td>
<td>27</td>
<td>“Money for improved QoL is the thing that goes out of the budget. It could be, e.g., money allocated for the outdoor environment. It is included last in the budget and is taken out first. I would say that in 99 out of 100 projects, there is planned QoL, also in the drawings, but when it is going to be built—it is all gone because it costs money. But that is also the client and developer who are not ambitious enough for high QoL”. ID-04.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Building codes and regulations</td>
<td>20</td>
<td>“We spend many resources on the process. There is more and more administration, and more and more administrative layers are included in the project. The easy part is to draw the homes—the most difficult part is to get there from beginning to end, to survive all the administrative work, which takes the time from the project”. ID-2.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Knowledge and communication</td>
<td>15</td>
<td>“I think a major barrier could be the lack of knowledge… Now we have lots of generic housing projects based on an old formula, which is rarely challenged”. ID-07. “So, architects must also be knowledgeable about and interested in how people behave. That’s actually where it begins, meaning all our ideas and visions”. ID-P02. “It is easier to talk about a nice wall in oak with a certain distance between the slats as something that can help generate a mood, a certain feeling, a certain identity in a room, a feeling perhaps of QoL, than if we talk about it in terms of what it costs and why it’s difficult to set up”. ID-06.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The client/owner</td>
<td>7</td>
<td>“The clients do not want any experiments. They want the same thing as last time. So it is very much repetition, and not any new elements for that [QoL]”. ID-7.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
4. Discussion
Value, in the context of the built environment, is increasingly being linked to QoL [35–37]. QoL, in the context of the built environment, has been linked to comfort and health, but the approach to well-being in buildings is becoming more heterogeneous and ambiguous in its conceptual approaches [38–40], corresponding with the rise in interdisciplinary research on the social impact of architecture [41]. This is in line with this study’s ambition to provide knowledge that can set new perspectives within the field of architecture and QoL. However, despite the growing interest in the relationship between architecture and QoL in research,
policy, and practice, the research is challenged by methodological heterogeneity and unclear causal relationships, and several scholars have already argued for greater clarity on how the variables affect society and individuals [38,40,41].
Our results revealed that perceptions of QoL among architects are linked to three primary dimensions: health, a sense of harmony, and the experience of enchantment. In particular, the health dimensions have already been adequately covered in other studies [17,35,36,42], with most studies using self-reported surveys as the methodology [35,36,42]. An increasing number of studies on residential housing environments, offering a similar emphasis to that of the current study, have focused on the importance of a sense of harmony [14,18,43,44]. In Turkey, Kayseri [43] revealed, in a recent study, that the most influential factors on the overall QoL of individuals living in different residential neighborhoods were satisfaction with a neighborhood, neighborhood relations, and urban services. However, less focus was placed on residential housing and the experience of enchantment with its relation to QoL. The experience of enchantment has been described in tourism research [45,46] but might become more dominant in future architecture studies, especially in the highly relevant and current focus on the green transition [44]. However, in general, there is a need for a more integrative framework when building for QoL, including both objective and subjective approaches. This is also in line with the recently published and edited book Quality of Life Research: Place and Space Perspectives [41], which also emphasizes the importance of the situational context in which people live, as it is an influential factor in people’s QoL experiences.
We argue that further investigations into how architects define and design for QoL are needed. In addition, the literature lacks an understanding of how architects perceive QoL and how architecture can impact QoL. This study contributes some answers. However, future studies could also look into how architects and end users evaluate QoL in housing projects. Based on this study, there are indications that a majority of Danish architecture firms do not have a systematic practice in designing or evaluating QoL in housing. Most companies revisit projects after completion, primarily to reflect on the design, but only a few companies perform post-occupancy evaluations (e.g., metrics, assessment, and qualitative data) to evaluate QoL, factoring in, for example, residents’ sense of community, their satisfaction between private and public spaces, daylight conditions, and indoor climate. However, the architects were eager for more knowledge on how to design for QoL and how to evaluate QoL with improved scientific validity.
5. Limitations
This study is based on relatively few participants, and even though they were carefully sampled, the results should not be overinterpreted. Due to the relatively small and geographically concentrated sample, it is important to emphasize that the results may not be representative of all architects, especially outside Denmark. The participants represent a certain generation of Danish architects (aged 40–60) with more than 15 years of experience, and it is not unlikely that younger peers would have a different understanding of QoL in architecture. This study used projective techniques as a very successful method to elicit and stimulate conversations and discussions about QoL in architectural practice. Free association and card sorting elicited descriptions, comments, and verbal accounts about QoL. The methods used also engaged the participants and helped them focus on the topic, and the methods were used to generate a mapping and content analysis as part of the results. The workshop was also useful in facilitating engagement among a group of architects from different competitive companies to provide further explanation of the nature of the evidence produced in the individual in-depth interviews. However, concerning card sorting, our inclusion of the right wording on the cards and the categories’ accuracy could be discussed. The words were theoretically founded with inspiration from Eger and Maridal’s [25] classification of QoL concepts. The cards were pilot-tested, and the cards and categories were validated among a group of experts in the field. During the task, participants had the opportunity to include a new card/word to the table (one
did that, choosing sustainability). Despite all of these qualitative validation methods, we recognize that there could be limitations in the specific wording and categorization chosen. In particular, the category and the cards concerning enchantment (beauty, atmosphere, and emotion) and community (family, leisure, and culture) could be further investigated. Lastly, an important limitation of this study is the translation. All the interviews, the workshop, and the analysis took place in Danish and were translated for publication purposes.
6. Conclusions
We can conclude that Danish architects perceive that architecture could impact QoL in three primary dimensions: the environment, the experience of enchantment, and health. The participants highlighted the context and qualities of the housing site as significant factors for QoL; however, more specifically, indoor air quality, view of the sky, daylight levels, private spaces, and access to outdoor spaces and nature are positively linked with QoL. Special emphasis was also given to a sense of community and shared space as important elements for QoL. Furthermore, we can conclude that the most frequently perceived barriers to building for QoL were the economy, building codes/regulations, and a lack of knowledge. Although architecture firms might have limited influence on the economy and regulations, they can impact how they collect information and collaborate in order to build knowledge for creating QoL in design practices. This study recommends enhancing the research on QoL in housing, especially from an end-user perspective. We recommend that architectural firms develop and share practices so that they can learn more systematically from projects as a profession and document how architecture impacts the dimensions of QoL, such as a sense of community. Future research should also provide recommendations that include specific metrics and knowledge on how to improve the evaluation of QoL’s impact.
We outlined a proposed framework with variables of QoL that architecture can impact. However, this is just a starting point for further development, which also has advantages that can be linked to theories and fields, including smart city research, environmental psychology, green transition, urban design [37,47–49], digital architecture and building systems [50], and neuro architecture [51]. Architecture can and should contribute to QoL in regard to improving and maintaining a good life for the residents. We argue that, in order to enhance QoL in housing, we require both a common metric of QoL variables and a deeper understanding of the concept of QoL in housing from various perspectives and practices that could challenge architects’ seemingly homogenous perceptions.
Author Contributions: All credits are equally attributed to both authors, S.L.J. and T.B. All authors have read and agreed to the published version of the manuscript.
Funding: Desk research received internal funding from Realdania.
Institutional Review Board Statement: Not applicable.
Informed Consent Statement: Informed consent was obtained from all subjects involved in the study. All participants gave informed consent and were informed that they could withdraw from the study at any time. In addition, all participants were provided with anonymous ID numbers, and all data were labeled with these IDs.
Data Availability Statement: The datasets used and/or analyzed during the current study are available from the corresponding authors on reasonable request.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to all the participants for their valuable contributions. A special thanks to Anna Møller Teilmann, hired as a student helper in the project, for her assistance especially for the interviews, transcription, and coding.
Conflicts of Interest: Author Stine Lea Jacobi was employed by the company Realdania. The remaining author declare no conflicts of interest.
References
6. Sun, Y. Development of Neighborhood Quality of Life Indicators; University of Saskatchewan: Saskatoon, SK, Canada, 2005.
17. Simonsen, T.P.H.; Brown, S.D.; Reavey, P. Vitality and nature in psychiatric spaces: Challenges and prospects for ‘healing architecture’ in the design of inpatient mental health environments. *Health Place* 2024, 85, 103169. [CrossRef] [PubMed]
25. Eger, R.J.; Mandral, J.H. A statistical meta-analysis of the wellbeing literature. *Int. J. Wellbeing* 2015, 5, 45–74. [CrossRef]
32. Wu, W.; Ge, X.J. Communal space design of high-rise apartments: A literature review. *J. Des. Built Environ.* 2020, 20, 35–49. [CrossRef]
37. Chang, S.; Smith, M.K. Residents’ Quality of Life in Smart Cities: A Systematic Literature Review. Land 2023, 12, 876. [CrossRef]
41. Marans, R.W.; Stimson, R.J.; Webster, N.J. (Eds.) Handbook of Quality of Life: Place and Space Perspectives; Edward Elgar: Cheltenham, UK, 2024.
42. Barros, P.; Fat, L.N.; Garcia, L.M.; Splic, A.D.; Thomopoulos, N.; de Sa, T.H.; Morais, P.; Mindell, J.S. Social consequences and mental health outcomes of living in high-rise residential buildings and the influence of planning, urban design and architectural decisions: A systematic review. Cities 2019, 93, 263–272. [CrossRef] |
This report was written on October 3, 1979
1. Name and location of the property: The property known as Morrocroft is located at 2525 Richardson Drive in Charlotte, NC.
2. Name, address, and telephone number of the present owner and occupant of the property:
The present owner of the property is:
James J. Harris & Angelia M. Hazels
Box 220427
Charlotte, NC 28222
Telephone: (704) 366-0925
3. Representative photographs of the property: Representative photographs of the property are included in this report.
4. A map depicting the location of the property: This report contains a map which depicts the location of the property.
5. Current Deed Book Reference to the property: The most recent reference to this property is recorded in Mecklenburg County Will Book 7, page 552. The Tax Parcel Number of the property is 177-078-04.
6. A brief historical sketch of the property:
Morrocroft was completed in 1927 as the home of Governor Cameron Morrison (1869-1953) and his second wife, Sara Eckerd Watts Morrison. A native of Richmond County, North Carolina, Morrison was an adroit and flamboyant politician. His initial forays into the public arena occurred in the 1890's, when as a young attorney he headed the Red Shirt movement in Richmond County, a collection of citizens dedicated to the principles of white supremacy as a
prerequisite for the progressive development of North Carolina. The only elective office which Morrison held during these years was as Mayor of Rockingham, NC, in 1893.2
Morrison moved his law practice to Charlotte, NC, in 1905. The *Charlotte Observer* described him as a young man of ability who possessed a clear, musical voice. On December 6, 1905, Morrison married Lottie May Tomlinson of Durham, NC, who was to be the mother of an only child, Aphelia Lawrence Morrison. Mrs. Morrison died in Presbyterian Hospital on November 12, 1919. A graduate of the Women's College of Baltimore, MD, and Peace Institute in Raleigh, NC, Mrs. Morrison had been active in local civic affairs. During World War I, she had served as captain of a Red Cross canteen team at Camp Greene, a large military training facility in Charlotte.4 In 1920, Morrison opposed O. Max Gardner, Lieutenant Governor of North Carolina, in the Democratic primary for Governor. A principal ally of Morrison's in this campaign was Senator Furnifold Simmons. Morrison was victorious, and in January, 1921, he became the Governor of North Carolina.5 In an address which he delivered on January 28, 1921, Governor Morrison emanated the progressive and assertive spirit which was to characterize his administration:
"We do not want to move and have our being as a crippled, weak and halting State, but we want to stand up like a mighty giant of progress and go forward in the upbuilding of our State and the glorification of our God."6
It was customary for the chief executives of North Carolina to make bold promises at the outset of their terms, but Cameron Morrison did a better than average job in fulfilling his pledge to the people. He is remembered best as the "Good Roads Governor." To bring North Carolina "out of the mud," Morrison secured funds for a massive road building program. His objective was to construct paved highways to every county seat in the state. Governor Morrison also labored to upgrade the educational system throughout North Carolina. Allocations to the public institutions of higher learning were increased substantially during his administration. For example, fourteen buildings were erected on the campus of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill between 1921 and 1925, the years during which he served as Governor. Moreover, Morrison committed financial resources to the establishment of excellent primary and secondary schools at the local level. Another of Morrison's major accomplishments was the improvement of medical facilities, especially those involved in the treatment of the mentally and emotionally infirm.7
That Governor Morrison placed education high on a list of priorities is not surprising. It is reasonable to infer that two considerations prompted him to do so. First, as a child in Richmond County, he had experienced the consequence of an inadequate public school system. Indeed, the school at Rockingham was open for only two months each year. Consequently, Morrison was compelled to obtain instruction from private teachers, from M. C. McCaskill at Orbs Springs, NC, and from William Carroll at Rockingham. Moreover, financial considerations prevented his matriculation at the University of North Carolina. He received his legal training in the office of Robert P. Dick in Greensboro, NC. Second, Morrison regarded himself as a student and admirer
of Thomas Jefferson. "Democracy rests upon the principle of exact and equal justice to all, and regardless of class or station in life," he proclaimed in a speech in New York City in 1924.9
In keeping with his Jeffersonian proclivities, Morrison believed that the existence of an educated citizenry was indispensable to the survival of the American republic. Indeed, he believed that those black citizens who could demonstrate their ability to grasp and appreciate public issues should be permitted to exercise the full rights of citizenship. Illustrative of Governor Morrison's position on this matter was the fact that he channeled substantial resources to the improvement of the black colleges of North Carolina.10 Also noteworthy is the fact that the poll tax was unpoll during his administration.11 Governor Morrison's personal life changed abruptly on April 2, 1924, when he journeyed to Durham, NC, and married Sara Eckerd Watts, millionairess and widow of George W. Regatta. A native of Syracuse, N.Y., and a trained nurse, she had married Watts, a noted financier and philanthropist, on October 25, 1917.12 Following the termination of Morrison's tenure as Governor, the Morrisons moved to Charlotte and undertook the establishment of Morrocroft, an elegant residence and experiment farm of approximately three thousand acres just outside of the city. Completed in 1927, the house and attendant outbuildings were designed by Harrie Thomas Lindeberg, a prominent New York architect who specialized in the delineation of baronial country houses. Governor Morrison became known locally as the "Esquire of Morrocroft."n14
Consistent with the New South philosophy which undergirded his system of values, Morrison labored to make his estate a model farm which would reflect the most advanced principles of scientific agriculture and thereby encourage the farmers of North Carolina to do likewise. He raised chickens, turkeys, hogs, and established one of the finest herds of Jersey cattle in the United States. Morrocroft also possessed large fields of grain, vegetables, and fruits.15 The significance of his agricultural pursuits notwithstanding, Morrison continued to participate actively in the affairs of the Democratic Party. On December 13, 1930, Governor O. Max Gardner surprised many political pundits by appointing Morrison to the United States Senate to serve out the term of Senator Lee S. Overman, who had recently died.16 In 1932, however, Morrison was unsuccessful in his campaign against Robert R. Reynolds, an Asheville attorney.17 Reynolds used his opponent's wealth as an effective political and oratorical weapon, accusing Governor Morrison of eating caviar and using a gold spittoon.18 In 1942, the voters of the Tenth Congressional District elected Morrison to the House of Representatives. He did not run for reelection. Instead, he campaigned in 1944 to return to the United States Senate. Again, he was unsuccessful, this time losing to Clyde R. Hoey of Shelby, NC.19 Governor Morrison did not run for public office again. His involvement in politics did not abate, however. He headed the North Carolina delegation to the National Convention of the Democratic Party in Chicago in 1952. His speech urging the delegates to preserve party unity appeared on national television.20 That Governor Morrison practiced what he preached was affirmed by the fact that he supported enthusiastically the candidacy of Adlai Stevenson for the Presidency. Indeed, the last political speech of his career, presented in Freedom Park in Charlotte, echoed his devotion to the Democratic Party which he had advocated as a young attorney in Richmond County in the 1890's.
"Of course there have been actions taken by Democratic Administrations of which I have not wholly approved. Of course, there have been, and still are, individuals within the Democratic Party whom I would much rather have seen elsewhere. But we must never let anything swerve us from the only honorable course, and that is the true loyalty to the Democratic Party, now, as in the past, and forever."21
Governor Cameron Morrison died on August 21, 1953, of a heart attack at the age of eighty-three. His death occurred in Quebec, Canada, while on a trip with his grandson, James J. Harris, Jr. Mrs. Morrison predeceased her husband, having expired in 1950.22 Mrs. Morrison was a talented and exceptional human being. She was a member of Second Presbyterian Church.23 "Mrs. Morrison fights the devil through the Presbyterian church, and I try to give him a few good licks through the Democratic Party," Governor Morrison once remarked.24 Mrs. Morrison served on the Board of the Charlotte YWCA and the Stonewall Jackson Training School. Moreover, she was generous in her support of Queens College in Charlotte, where Morrison Hall was named in her honor.25 Mrs. Morrison bequeathed Morrocroft to her step-daughter, Angelia Lawrence Morrison Harris, and to her step-daughter's husband, James J. Harris.26 Mr. Harris, an insurance executive, was born in Athens, GA, on May 13, 1907. He and Mrs. Harris were married on October 6, 1934. Over the years, Mr. and Mr. Harris have disposed of the majority of Morrocroft Estate. The house now constitutes the centerpiece of a tract of 16.5 acres.27
NOTES
3 The Charlotte Observer (February 27, 1905), p. 5.
10 Crabtree.
11 Graham.
14 Family.
15 Graham.
16 Family.
17 The Charlotte News (August 21, 1953), p. 10A.
18 Orison, Cameron. Old Clippings, a folder in the vertical files of the Carolina Room of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Public Library.
21 Ibid.
23 Family.
24 Ibid. Governor Morrison characterized his own career in the following manner: "The Lord has just used a knotty-headed old Scotchman who uses his fists, instead of the standard kind of statesman." The Charlotte News (August 21, 1953), p. 10b.
25 Ibid.
7. A brief architectural description of the property: This report contains an architectural description of the property prepared by Carolina Mesrobian, architectural historian.
8. Documentation of way and in what ways the em Perth meets the criteria set forth in N. C. G. S. 160A-399.4:
a. Special significance in terms of its history, architecture, and/or cultural importance: Special historic significance in terms of Charlotte-Mecklenburg and North Carolina. The Commission bases its judgment on the following considerations 1) Morrocroft was the home of Cameron Morrison, Governor of North Carolina from 1921 until 1925, 2) the house and attendant outbuildings were designed by Harris Thomas Lindeberg, and 3) the house formed the centerpiece of an experimental farm.
b. Integrity of design, setting, workmanship, materials, feeling and/or association: The Commission judges that the architectural description included herein demonstrated that the property known as Morrocroft meets this criterion.
9. Ad Valorem Tax Appraisal: The Commission is aware that designation would allow the owner to apply annually for an automatic deferral of 50% of the Ad Valorem taxes on all or any portion of the property which becomes "historic property." The current tax appraisal on the 16.5 acres of land is $330,000. The current tax appraisal on the improvements is $311,030. The most recent tax bill on the property was $10,737.25.
Bibliography
The Charlotte News.
The Charlotte Observer.
Beth G. Crabtree, North Carolina Governors 1585-1968 (State Department of Archives and History, Raleigh.
"Morrison Cameron: Old Clippings" a folder in the vertical files of the Carolina Room of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Public Library.
Records of the Mecklenburg County Clerk of Superior Court.
Records of the Mecklenburg County Register of Deeds Office.
Records of the Mecklenburg County Tax Office.
**Date of preparation of this report:** October 3, 1979
**Prepared by:** Dr. Dan L. Morrill, Director
Charlotte-Mecklenburg Historic Properties Commission
139 Middleton Dr.
Charlotte, NC 28207
Telephone: (704) 332-2726
---
**Architectural Description**
Morrocroft was designed by the New York architect Harrie Thomas Lindeberg (1881? - 1959) for former North Carolina governor Cameron Morrison (served 1921 - 1925) in 1927. Lindeberg, who published a book on his domestic architecture in 1940, designed a number of baronial country houses in the United States for such clients as the Doubleday, Pillsbury, Dupont and Vanderbilt families. Clients in North Carolina included Martin L. Cannon of Charlotte, Mrs. L. J. Morehead of Salem, the Asheville Country Club, and several residents of Biltmore Forest.1
Lindeberg's prevalent modes of domestic architecture were the Colonial and Tudor country manor house styles. Morrocroft (a combination of the family surname Morrison and the Scottish word for house)² was built in the Tudor style. The asymmetry, picturesque massing, rhythmic spacing of mullioned, multi-paned grouped windows, and numerous multi-stack chimneys rising from steeply pitched gable roofs are tangible manifestations of the credo on domestic
The present grounds contain the main house and service court, garage, a brick garden house to the south of the house, the brick floor of a summerhouse located to the northwest of the house and a large frame grounds facility. According to the resident caretaker, Mr. Harkey, the latter building was moved to its present site northwest of the house in the early 1970s. The entrance to the grounds from Richardson Drive is bounded by brick walls carrying large decorative lead turkeys with full spread tails. These birds originally faced Sharon Road and were moved as civilization encroached on the estate. The drive, as illustrated in a 1927 house and partial grounds plan, divides into two paths, one leading to a walled service court attached to the right side of the house and a free standing garage standing to the north of the main complex; the other terminating in an oval drive in front of the main entrance, the front being oriented to the northeast.
Landscaping consists of a large number of English boxwood of several sizes and varieties. Small boxwood line the drives and a garden wall extending from the right side of the house, while the front of the house is lined with formal massings of large boxwood. A flagstone terrace leads from the southeast facade to a boxwood and brick lined lawn which terminates in a shallow-basined fountain with four spouts. What appears to have been a rose garden with brick paths radiating from a central nucleus lies due south of the house. The terraced rear (southwest) looks over a vast expanse of lawn to Sharon Road. Symmetrical, curved boxwood hedges line the grassy path and steps leading to the terrace and the main entrance of this facade. A shallow-basined pool with one spout formally defines each side of the lower entrance path. The northwest side of the house faces a dogwood forest. A wide variety of veteran trees shade the house and gardens. Trees include the magnolia, yellow poplar, American holly, ginkgo, Carolina hickory, black locust, white ash, flowering fruits and white willow and live oak.
**Exterior, The Manor House (excluding the Service Court)**
Morrocroft is characterized by a main two story block (two and-one half stories on the rear facade) with rambling one and one half story side wings which extend either parallel or at a right angle to the main block. Breaks in the wall surfaces which create solids and voids, diverse roof lines and projections from the central block such as the front entrance bay, an oriel window, and a one story office complete with its own roof and chimney provide asymmetrical and picturesque qualities. The house is comprised of narrow ochre and earth colored bricks said to have been made in Holland. Bondwork is a random, running type, stretchers being the more prevalent, with occasional headers. The steep, gable roofs which provide a vertical accent to the house have terracotta shingles. Heavy metal gutters with ornamental down spout clasps surround the house. The sprawling, horizontal massing of Morrocroft is further balanced by seven brick chimneys, six of which define the end walls of the wings, the seventh being centrally located in
the main wing. The majority of the chimneys has three octagonal brick stacks with corbeled caps. Two chimneys on the service yard side have three clay pot stacks. Fenestration, while diverse in size and placement, is made homogeneous by the use of subtlety-tinted English leaded glass. Large sandstone or wooden mullions divide the windows into a number of lights; each light is divided into a number of small, diamond or rectangular shared panes by numerous cames. The glazing is thin and irregular, qualities which help diffract the colors of the stained glass windows and are basically of French, wall-faced pedimented dormer, or the standard Grouped casement type. Frames are either of sandstone or wood painted brown.
**Front Facade (northeast)**
The front facade may be divided into several sections: the two story main block comprised of five bays; a one and one half story, two bay wing projecting at a right angle from the northwest side of the main block; a one story two bay wide by one bay deep office which projects from the right angle formed by the wings; and a one and one half story, three bay wing continuing from the main section to the southeast.
The front entrance of Morrocroft (facing to the northeast) is articulated by a two story, gabled bay projecting from the central wing of the house. Walls are slightly battered. The vestibule is entered by a central doorless opening with a wide sandstone frame and sandstone Tudor arch with flared sides. Wrought iron and glass lantern with supporting bracket hangs over the entrance. The second story is pierced by a four light, leaded casement window, each light containing diamond shaped panes formed by cames. The southeast side of the entrance porch contains a similar window with two lights centrally placed on the first story and a small casement window on the second story near where the vestibule and main wing intersect. The interior of the vestibule is faced with large well-dressed sandstone blocks, has a wooden ceiling with exposed beams from which a lantern is suspended, and a slate floor. The northwest interior side contains a shallow niche with lintel. The door, with outer screen, is of wrought iron and glass and bears a stylized peacock framed by a leafy spiral vine pattern. Frame is of metal which forms a cable pattern; sill is of bronze.
A long wrought iron bell handle is located on the left side of the interior entranceway. The bay to the southeast of the projecting porch is pierced by a ground story sandstone frame window with four lights and transom while the second story contains a window with three lights. The southeast wing of Morrocroft is set back from the front wall of the main block, allowing room for a French window with transom on the first story, a window with two lights on the second story and a small casement window on the third story, all having sandstone mullions and surrounds. The bay northwest of the entrance projects slightly from the main block and is articulated by an oriel window situated between the first and second stories. A frieze running above the window's twelve lights with diamond shaded panes bears grapevines whose fruit is being enjoyed by birds and animals. Below the glazing a larger four panel frieze contains harvest scenes and the daily activities of the country folk. These panels are enhanced by a molding of twisted cable and three rosettes. Below and to the right of the oriel window is a decorative diamond shaped grille bearing a squirrel surrounded by leafy vines and set into brick cut into a
diaper pattern. The northwest side of this projecting bay is pierced by a casement window with two lights on the ground story.
The remaining bays in the main block consist of a bay pierced by a four light casement window with transom on the ground story and a three light window on the second story; a double light casement window is located on both stories of the end bay. The one and one half story wing which is at a right angle to the main block is marked by a narrow single casement window and a double light casement window on the first story, each with wood surrounds. A three light, wall face dormer window with wood surrounds and soldier course is centrally located above the first story fenestration. A high, wide garden wall extends from this wing; the brick is thin but is of a slightly darker color than the brick used for the house. Two brick steps lead to a centrally placed archway capped by a decorative brick keystone. The wood door has four panels and a wrought iron unglazed fan light with tracery. Low brick borders define the boxwood beds in front of the wall. A single story office with a steeply sloping gable roof and an end wall chimney projects from the intersection of the main block and the side wing. Its entrance facade, which faces southeast, contains a three panel frame door with upper glazed lights and a three light casement window with wood surrounds. The one and one half story wing on the southeast side of the main sections of the house is symmetrically articulated, it having three evenly spaced French windows with stationary transoms, interior screens and sandstone surrounds. Two double light, brick faced dormer windows with wood surrounds and soldier course are situated above the first and third ground story bays.
**Southeast (Terrace and Garden) Facade**
Two glazed floor length windows with sandstone frames, overhead wall lanterns, and exterior screen doors comprise the first story. The second story is pierced by two single casement windows with sandstone surrounds. An end-wall chimney with three brick stacks courses through the central section of this facade.
**Southwest (Rear) Facade, facing Sharon Rd.**
This facade may be divided into three sections. The main block's (four bays) and southeast wing's (three bays) bay and fenestration arrangement correspond roughly to that of the front facade. A one and one half story northwest wing contains two bays. The southeast wing of this facade contains three French windows with fixed transom, sandstone frames and interior screen doors. The attic floor is articulated by a double light dormer window with wood surrounds on the first and third bays. These flank a tiny wood frame casement window located directly under the eaves. The southeastern most bay of the main block contains a first story four light casement window with transom and a three light casement window with double transom on the second floor. frames and mullions are sandstone. This bay projects from the common wall line of the main block to include a first story French window with transom and a second story double light casement window on its northwest side. A French window with transom and narrow glazed side doors with transoms and inner screen doors corresponds in placement to the entrance bay on the front facade. The adjoining bay contains a first story five light casement window with transom. A bracketed lantern extends from the wall between these bays. Metal rollers placed at intervals
between the first and second story indicate an awning covered the terrace in this section at one time.
The second story portion over these two bays is sheathed in shingle siding and is pierced by a two light casement window, and a narrow casement window situated near the projection of a bay on the northwest end of the main block. The attic story of the shingle-sided section contains three evenly spaced true dormer windows. Wood surrounds and Mullions characterize the fenestration of the second and attic stories. A six-sectioned ground story bay window with transom comprises the final bay of the main block. This bay projects slightly from the main block. Fenestration has sandstone frame and Mullions. The northwest one and one half story wing of Morrocroft is set back from the main block. The right angle formed by the intersection of these sections contains a side entrance porch formed by one free standing and two engaged wooden piers with brick pier bases. Pegged wooden braces extend from these piers to support a second story balcony with turned balusters and three piers with perched, wood stylized vultures. The entrance from this porch is located on the northwest end of the main block of the house and consists of a wooden door with six panels and an exterior screen door. A two light casement window is located on the second story, directly over the entrance, while a smaller two light casement window defines the third story. Both have sandstone Mullions and surrounds. The wing northwest of the main block of the house contains a pedimented door set into the roof leading onto the second story balcony. The lower half of the door with exterior screen door is frame, the upper portion being glazed. The remaining bays in this wing are pierced by a three light casement window and a four light casement window on the ground story and two pedimented dormer windows with two and three lights respectively. Fenestration in these bays has wood surrounds and Mullions. The northwest end of this wing is one bay deep and contains a first story double light casement window which has been boarded over and a narrow casement window on the second story. A wide end wall chimney with three clay pots also articulates this end.
Service Wing Complex
A rectangular walled service court forms the extreme northwest side of the manor house and may be entered from the grounds both on the northeast (driveway) side and through a small pedestrian arched entrance (with exaggerated brick keystone) on its northwest side. The interior of the court contains a central paved area. The southeast side (rear side of the front brick garden wall) contains a shingle roof carport which is not original to the house. The 1927 plan of the residence allocated this area to a drying yard. Steps to a large full basement are located on the northeast end of the service building. The building complex itself is composed of the rear facade of the wing which extends at a right angle from the main block, a servants’ hall which projects from the joining of the two wings at their northwest side, and an added laundry facility extension which completes the southwest side of the court. The right angle one and one half story wing (southeast side of the court) contains three bays. The first is pierced by a ground story four light casement window and an attic three light dormer window, both with wood surrounds and Mullions. This bay was originally designated as a laundry room as shown by the plan. A rectangular screened porch comprises the area in front of the second and third bays, filling in the area formed by the junction of the southeast and southwest sides of the court. A screen door, facing northwest, leads into the porch. The house proper is entered by a three panel, upper
glazed door in the second bay of this wing. A double light casement window comprises the third bay of this window. A small four light casement attic window is located above this area. The southwest one story facade of the court consists of two bays: an entrance door end a double light casement window.
Wood frames are employed consistently. This section of the court (southwest) was extended at a later date to include a nine bay laundry facility which has a lower, shingle gable roof. The laundry section is built of wood painted dark brown to match the trim of the main house and is half timbered with wood insets (to simulate true half timber construction) on the lower section. Seven of the bays are pierced by casement windows; two contain entrances. The third and seventh bays contain a tri-paneled frame door with upper glazed section and an exterior screen door. These entrances are reached by two brick steps and side rails and have bracketed gabled overdoors with simulated half timbered pediments. Windows have double lights with the exception of the sixth bay which is articulated by a three light casement window. Wood mullions are painted brown. The northwest, exterior end wall of the court has been altered to contain a small casement window with brick header to illuminate the laundry room. The southwest exterior side of the court consists of the rear of the laundry and the servants' hall. The rear of the laundry contains a louvered vent; a three light casement window comprises the rear bay of this servants' hall.
**Interior of the Manor House**
The exterior of Morrocroft, as would befit a manor house, is stately and imposing. Its interior, while fitted with dignified and rich detailing, possesses a human-scale quality which survives the house a true domestic character. Lindeberg purposefully sought to include the domestic element in the design of his large country houses. In the introduction to Lindeberg's and Albro's publication, *Domestic Architecture*, the large dwelling and the cottage are compared: "Even the large house in the country should not merely be a place for the reception of visitors; it should be a dwelling for a family, and it should express the domestic feeling, as surely and straightforwardly as the cottage." The first floor of the residence contains an entrance hall, living room, sun-room, library, stairhall, powder room, and dining room. The kitchen complete with pantry and cold room, a servants' hall, laundry, and office are also located on this floor. No staircases lead to a second story comprised of six bedrooms with baths, a boudoir, linen room, and pressing room. There is an extraordinary amount of closet and shelf space or this floor. A staircase leads from the second floor hall to a third story located in the central block of the house. It contains a bedroom with bath and two large cedar lined storage rooms.
**First Floor**
A large rectangular hall may be entered both from the front vestibule and the rear terrace side of the house. The most singular feature of this room is the front entrance wall, two thirds of which is paneled in Norwegian pine; the upper portion is plaster as are the other walls and ceiling. The door is trimmed with pine, has cable trim surround, and is framed by fluted pilasters carrying an entablature with broken pediment. The frieze is decorated by a central, fluted keystone flanked by carved swans; the pediment is enriched with a shell pattern and leaf and tongue. A pine mantel fireplace with rectangular opening and a carved over mantel with carved volutes and a
broken pediment is located in the northwest wall. The frieze is comprised of cross-banded sheaths of wheat and a central swag. The dentil work and triglyphs and metope decorate the cornice. The shouldered architrave is framed with bead and reel borders, while the inner surround and hearth are of black-green marble. The interior of the fireplace is terracotta molded into the shape of shamrocks. The hall's plaster cornice bears a floral decoration. The baseboard is pine. Wide oak pegged boards comprise the floor.
A large, rectangular living room may be entered from two six panel doors in the southeast wall of the hall. Door hardware consists of polished steel box locks engraved with a floral motif, melon shaped knob (pull on opposite side of door), and a long key and chain. A white marble mantel is centrally located in the southeast wall of this room. Its rectangular opening is framed by pilasters with garlands and acanthus decorated capitals. The center tablet of the frieze is in fairly high relief and is decorated with an allegorical depiction of Cupid bound. A nymph holding Cupid's bow and two figures running toward them with garlands complete this panel. It is flanked by foliated scrolls and small panels bearing love birds. The hearth is of black slate, while the interior of the fireplace is comprised of thin bricks set in a herring bone pattern with thick bands of mortar. The room has a deep cornice which includes a band of acanthus leaves and high relief daisy heads, cable pattern with rosettes, and molding of leaf and tongue. The paneled walls are wood painted to resemble plasterwork; baseboard has a stylized foliated border. The oak floor is parquet. A French window with stationary transom and sandstone surrounds in the living room's southeast wall opens into a rectangular sun-room. The 1927 plan shows part of this area was to be used as a flower room; in actuality the room was never realized. The most distinctive feature of the sunroom is the large, multi-tinted glass, leaded trench windows which instill the room with a soft, muted light. A white and earthy red marble fireplace, in projecting chimney breast is located in the center of the southeast wall. The frieze is comprised of a central oval tablet of white marble trimmed in red marble which bears the head of Bacchus flanked with horns of plenty. Enriched ovolo (egg and dart), and stylized leafy borders and wheat ear drops also decorate the frieze. The hearth is black slate; the interior of the fireplace is incised black metal. The sunroom's cornice contains decorative brackets with soffits bearings rosettes and a molding of enriched ovolo. The floor is of wide pegged oak planks.
The hall with spiral staircase is entered from the northwest side of the entrance hall. A slender, polished steel rail with delicate ornamented balusters set into the sides of the wood steps leads to the second floor hall. The stairwell is illuminated by a large, tinted-and-diamond panel oriel window which is flanked by heating grilles bearing highly decorative ironwork. The cornice in the first floor hall bears the cable motif. The floor is pegged plank. The Norwegian pine paneled library leads from the southwest wall of the stairhall. Walls are lined with cable trimmed bookcases and lower storage areas (over door shelves as well). The southwest wall contains a large window with transom, and sandstone mullions and frame. Window screens, as found throughout the house, can be hidden in the frames. A pine mantel, which is similar to the mantel in the entrance hall, is located in the southeast wall. The mantel has a rectangular opening with a black-green marble surround, shouldered architrave, carved foliated frieze and cornice, and a simple overmantel panel. Hearth is of marble slab, while the interior of the fireplace is constructed in the brick herring-bone pattern. The library's cornice work consists of pronounced dentil work, and enriched ovolo. Plank floor is pegged. The rectangular dining room with southwest wall bay window is reached from the northwest wall of the stairhall. Walls are
paneled wood painted to simulate plasterwork, as found in the living room. The wall finish consists of gold leaf enriched ovolo, enriched cyma reversa, and foliated cornice, a gold leaf chair rail with a leafy border bearing rosettes, and gold leaf panel trim with the cable motif. The floor is parquet. Hardware on the six panel doors is similar to the living room doors. A white marble mantel with rectangular opening and ochre and tan marble surround framed by pilasters bearing a ribbon and garland decoration is located in the northwest wall. The frieze bears a center tablet in relief with a scene of putti letting a bird escape from a box; this is flanked by swans, putti with birds, and a lower, fluted border. The paneled overmantel with ovolo and floral cold leaf trims has a broken pediment which terminates in volutes flanking a decorative shell; both are painted in gold leaf. The kitchen complex spans a substantial area of the first floor and includes a "large pantry and cold room." The kitchen and pantry counter tops are red, while floors are fashioned in black and white linoleum squares. Remodeling would appear to date from the 1960s.
A one room office may be entered from either hall or an exterior door; the 1927 plan does not show the opening in the office's northwest wall, although it appears original to the house. The door hardware consists of metal plates in the shape of a frontier man with coonskin cap, musket and powder horn, and a cabled handle. The paneled wall cabinets and simple wood cornice and baseboard line the office. The floor is pegged plank. The northeast wall contains a fireplace flanked by open shelves and under cabinets. The simple wood mantel has a rectangular opening, dentil work trim, a black slate hearth and trick herring, bone pattern interior.
**Second Floor**
The southeast section of this floor contains the master bedrooms and a boudoir which locks offer the formal gardens. The boudoir was converted into an "ideal dressing room" by the Morrisons' daughter, Mrs. James J. Harris. The only feature that the 1927 plan does not show is the large, double folding door bath alcove located in the northwest wall. The tub and alcove walls are sheathed in pink marble with gray veining. A small chandelier hangs overhead. Smaller window alcoves in the southwest and northeast walls contain respectively a pink, gray-veined marble sink with ornamental gold sea creature fixtures and a mirrored dressing table held by stylized floral brackets. Wall cabinets, shelves, and closets line the walls. A projecting gray marble mantel with white veining and curved opening comprises the center of the southeast wall. Pilasters are cable fluted with upper cartouche, while the center of the frieze bears a decorative shell. The hearth is gray and white marble with a white marble inset.
A hall from the boudoir leads into what was originally Mrs. Morrison's bedroom. This room overlooks the spacious lawn on the southwest side of the house. Its dominant feature is a white marble fireplace with rectangular opening, bead and reel surround, and pilasters with terms on high pedestals. The frieze contains a center relief panel with seated allegorical figures. This tablet is flanked by fluting and end love birds. Other decorative molding includes acanthus and beading. The hearth is black slate, and the fireplace interior is black incised metal. What was originally Mrs. Morrison's bedroom is located at the front of the house. Its floor has been left uncarpeted and consists of small hardwood boards. This flooring is probably standard to the second floor. The bathroom with parquet veneer floor lies directly over the front vestibule. Its
white marble sink with metal and Lucite fixtures is employed in the remaining bathrooms on this floor.
A hall which runs the length of the northwest half of Morrocroft links the remaining four bedrooms, linen room and pressing room. Plaster cornice work in the cart of the hall reached directly from the spiral staircase is elaborate and consists of a border of various flowers such as the rose and fleur de lis. This molding is sandwiched by the cable motif. Trim continues on the ceiling which bears a foliated scroll pattern. Noteworthy features in the remaining bedrooms include marble or wooden fireplaces. The bedroom which faces the spiral staircase landing has a southeast wall pine mantel with rectangular opening and black slate surround. Pilasters are decorated with wheat ear drops and upper acanthus consoles; the frieze bears a central carved shell flanked by foliated scrolls and bead and reel. The cornice work has the egg, and dart and stylized leaf motifs. The hearth is black slate, while the fireplace interior is composed of tricks laid in the herring bone pattern. The bedroom, located beside a staircase leading to the third floor, contains a northwest mantel of white marble panel of the gray and green marble panel inserts. She center, white marble panel of the frieze is decorated with crossed flaming torches and twisted ribbon; the frieze ends bears the same motif on a smaller scale. The hearth is black slate. The fireplace interior is brick laid in the herring bone pattern.
The northwest wings of this story are reached by a two step down break in the main hallway at the point where the third floor staircase rises; the hall ceiling becomes lower. This section of the house may also be reached from the ground floor by a single flight back staircase. The pine balustrade on the second floor consists of turned balusters, simple handrail and turned acorn posts. The west corner bedroom has a northwest wall mantel of variegated gray, red, and white marble with rectangular opening, pilasters with cabled fluting, and frieze adorned with interlocked circles. The same type marble comprises the hearth. The northeast corner bedroom has a mantel in the northeast wall, which consists of a similar multi-colored marble and shape as the above mantel. Pilasters bear wheat ear drops, while the central panel of the frieze contains a stylized flower. The hearth is white marble, bordered by gray, red; white veined marble panels. Ceilings shapes and heights in the manor house are varied. While the first floor has traditional flat ceiling, the second floor master bedroom, boudoir, and the northeast end bedroom have plaster barrel vault ceilings. A section of the second floor hall is also barrel vaulted. Ceiling heights in the main rooms and hall or the first floor are 10'9"; kitchen and office ceilings are 9' and 8'7" respectively. Second floor ceiling heights are: boudoir, 9'2"; master bedroom, 12'6"; central southeast side bedroom, 9'2"; remaining three bedrooms and linen room, all 9', and pressing room, 8'11". Bathroom ceiling heights are 8'11", while the halls range from 9'8" to 8'6" to 7'10".
Third Floor
Admittance to the third floor could not be obtained from the owners for this report.
Utility Buildings
Garage
A one and one half story brick garage with steep gable located on the grounds to the north of the
The garage door side of the building (northwest) contains three bays. The wide middle bay on the ground story is comprised of a set of hinged doors flanked by two side doors; the smaller end bays also contain hinged doors. Each section of the doors has three wood panels painted brown with an upper glazed portion. Three evenly spaced double light dormer windows and a small dormer window located between the second and third bays characterize the attic story. Window frames and mullions are wood painted brown.
The northeast facade is marked by an exterior single flight brick staircase with brick side. A three panel, upper glazed door is located in an opening in the side of the stairs on ground level. The remaining bay on this story has a double light casement window. A small flight of stairs with metal rail leads to a basement door. The attic story contains a centrally-located door flanked on each side by a casement window. The main block roof on the rear (southeast) facade slopes and flares to a point 4'9" from the ground level. A single stack chimney with corbel cap is located in the main block to the right of the projecting bay. The right end bay of the main block (under the chimney) is pierced by a round level double light casement basement window. The left end bay of this block contains a small ground level casement window placed near the junction of the main block and projecting bay. The central, projecting bay contains a low set, six light casement window with wood mullions and surround. The southwest, one and one half story facade has two bays. The left bay is pierced by a four light casement window on the ground floor and an attic double light casement window. A double light casement window is situated near ground level in the right bay.
**Summerhouse**
The red brick raised floor of a summerhouse is located on the northwest side of the manor house. Small metal post holes are found at intervals alone the edge of the cruciform shared floor. According to the caretaker the structure had a terracotta roof supported by wooden posts and was screened. Large awnings could be rolled down for shelter from the sun or inclement weather.
**Gardenhouse**
A single bay, square sided brick garden house with composition shingle, hip roof stands on the grounds due south of the main house. The brick, although similar to that of the manor house, is not identical and is laid in running (stretcher) bond. The brickwork, symmetrical design and detailing indicate the structure is not original to the property. The entrance facade (north) contains a centrally-placed archway with four panel wood door. The east facade contains an arched window which has been boarded over. A three light window with stationary center light and side casements pierces the south wall, while the west wall is blank. The red brick interior has a ceiling with exposed beams which radiate to a circular boss.
NOTES
3 L, C. Albro and H. B. Lindeberg, *Domestic Architecture*, Cambridge, MA: University Press, for private distribution by the authors, 1912, Introduction, Albro and Lindeberg were partners from 1906 to 1914. See the acknowledgement in Lindeberg Domestic Architecture.
4 Lindeberg, p. 70.
5 Camden.
6 Albro and Lindeberg, Introduction.
7 McAden, p.1. |
Carving the Whittle Pup
by Jim Mischel
My favorite whittling subject over the last year or two has been dogs. I'll be the first to admit that my little dog whittlings are not great art, but rather just cute little kickshaws. But they're fun to carve, and I enjoy seeing the smile on the recipient's face when I give one away.
When I started making little dogs I would spend a few hours with the bandsaw every couple of weeks, making cutouts that I could then carve at my leisure. One day it dawned on me that with a few minor design changes I could eliminate the bandsaw cutout altogether and whittle a little dog from a small block of wood or just a branch off a tree.
And so was born the Whittle Pup, which this article will show you how to make yourself.
If you find this tutorial useful, please drop me a line. My email address is jim at mischel.com. And if you have friends who are interested in whittling, be sure to point
them at this tutorial. Also, if you send a picture of your dog, I'll add it to my Whittle Pup Gallery, along with your name and a link to your blog or Web site.
Happy whittling!
**What you need**
Carving this little dog requires that you gather just a few things before you start:
- A piece of wood, two inches (5 cm) tall, and an inch or an inch and a half (2.5 to 4 cm) in diameter. See [Wood selection](#), below, for more details.
- A sharp knife. Anything will do, although I would suggest something with a blade at least an inch long. I've done these with a pocket knife, a 2" roughing knife, a utility knife, a 1" detail knife, and pretty much everything in between. The primary requirement is that the knife be *sharp*.
- A pencil for marking on the wood. A ball point pen will work, but it's less than ideal. Do not use a Sharpie or other such marker, as the ink will be sucked into the wood and might bleed over where you don't want it. Other than a knife, the pencil is the most useful tool you can own. You should have at least one in your carving kit at all times.
- A ruler or small tape measure. This is optional. If you have it, great, but I'll include ways to estimate the few measurements we use.
- A thumb guard to protect the thumb on your carving hand (i.e. the hand that's holding the knife).
- A carving glove to protect the hand that's holding the carving.
I consider the carving glove and thumb guard to be mandatory safety equipment. I've never cut myself when wearing them, and I've received a few nasty cuts when not wearing them. These won't prevent all cuts, but they will prevent the typical slicing cuts.
that many wood carvers--especially beginners--often inflict on themselves. For more on safety, see my article Getting started with wood carving – Safety.
Wood selection
I carved the figure shown above from a piece of an apricot limb, and that's the kind of wood I'm going to use in this tutorial. The piece I've selected is shown in the picture at the left. You can use any wood you choose. You want to start with a piece that's two inches tall and a little over an inch in diameter with the bark on. Don't worry too much about the thickness, although I would suggest for this first time that you not select a piece that's less than an inch thick, as it becomes difficult to work with pieces that small.
If you don't have a convenient stick from a tree, you can use a wooden dowel. The major home improvement stores sell dowels in varying thicknesses. I would suggest a one inch white wood dowel. Don't get an oak dowel unless you're comfortable working with oak. It's a very hard wood to carve with hand tools. I'll carve pretty much anything, but I haven't tried to turn an oak dowel into a Whittle Pup.
I particularly like the fruit woods: pear, peach, apricot, apple, cherry, etc. for my Whittle Pups. I also rather like sycamore. But I've carved these dogs from dozens of different woods, including mesquite, walnut, fig, Paulownia (Royal Empress), maple, sumac, poplar, lyptus, elm, and a few "mystery sticks" that I picked up along the way.
It doesn't much matter if the wood is green (i.e. freshly cut) or if it's been drying outside for may years. Green wood will carve easier, but it might crack as it dries over time. I have a few Whittle Pups that cracked. I call it character.
You might get a few pieces of different wood and test them out by making some experimental cuts to gauge their hardness. Remember, though: it's possible to carve even very hard woods if you have a sharp knife, take your time, and make very small cuts. Patience and persistence will pay off. But for your first Whittle Pup, I suggest something you're comfortable carving.
This piece of wood and the piece I selected for the figure in the image above have little twig stubs on the bottom that I incorporated as the dog's tail. This isn't absolutely necessary, but it does add a nice touch to your carving. Don't worry about it if your piece of wood doesn't have a built-in tail like this. Later in the tutorial I'll show how to relief-carve a tail if you don't have one built in.
First steps
I start by removing the bark from the piece of wood, including the bark around the tail piece if it's there. Using your knife, take off the bark. Leave the sapwood (the thin layer of typically white wood that's directly under the bark). Most of the sapwood will be removed as part of carving the dog figure, and the few bits that are left make for some variety in the figure's coloring. You can remove the sapwood at this step if you like, although if you plan to do so then I would suggest starting with a slightly thicker limb. When you're done removing the bark, you want the block to be at least one inch in diameter.
After you have removed the bark, get out your trusty pencil and draw a line from the middle of the tail, straight up to the top of the piece of wood. From there, draw a line across the top, through the center of the wood to the other side, and then back down. That is the front center line, which we will use to make sure the figure's features are reasonably balanced.
You also want to draw a line perpendicular to the front/back line. Your best bet is to draw a line across the top that intersects the first line at a 90 degree angle in the center. Then extend the line down each side, as shown in the picture above.
Next, measure 1/4 inch (about 0.6 cm) from one of the side lines towards the front of the figure, and draw a line about halfway up the piece of wood, as shown in the picture above. If you don't have a ruler or tape measure, make it one pencil width as an estimate. That should be pretty close, since a standard pencil is 1/4 inch thick. Do the same thing on the other side of the block, making sure that the new line is towards the front of the figure. I call these the depth lines because they define how deeply we carve out the area for the legs.
Now, turn the block so that the front is facing you. We're going to draw three different lines here on the front of the block. The image above shows the lines we're going to draw.
Measure 1/4 inch (0.6 cm) from the bottom and draw a line horizontally from one depth line to the other. This is called the foot line, because it defines the feet. The little dog's paws will be shaped from the wood below this line.
Measure one inch (2.5 cm) up from the bottom of the block and draw another horizontal line between the two depth lines. I call this the jaw line. It defines the bottom of the dog's jaw. If you don't have a tape measure, you have two options. You can measure four pencil widths or, if you cut the piece of wood two inches tall, just estimate the halfway point.
Remember, your measurements here don't have to be exact. This is especially true when working with a piece of tree limb because it probably isn't perfectly round, anyway. In addition, this carving isn't intended to be a show entry. It's just a fun way to pass the time creating a cute little figure.
The last line you have to draw is called the nose line. It defines the top of the dog's nose. I usually make the nose a little bit taller than I absolutely have to at this point, which gives me some room to adjust things. Remember, it's better to leave wood that you have to take off later. Adding wood back after you've carved it away is kind of like asking a barber to make your hair longer. Draw the nose line 3/8 inch (about 1 cm) above the jaw line, again from one depth line to the other. If you don't have a tape measure, just make it one and a half or two pencil widths above the jaw line. We'll end up cutting it down later.
It might seem like a lot of work drawing all those lines, but it's important to know where you'll be cutting. After you've carved a few of these things, you might be comfortable trying it without the lines. But I'll tell you right now that after carving something like a hundred of these little dogs, I'm still more confident if I draw the lines before I start cutting. I think you'll find that drawing the lines takes you just a minute or two and will help prevent you from making some common mistakes.
I took a minute to draw the dog's features on the block so you can get an idea of what these lines mean. You don't need to do this, and in fact I'd discourage you from drawing the features on your block because they might confuse you. By the time you're ready to
carve legs, snout, eyes, and ears, the block of wood is going to look much different, and the lines you drew on it will be mostly gone.
With the cut lines marked, it's almost time to start whittling.
You should make it a point to strop your blade regularly when working on this project. Carving found wood is more destructive to the edge of your knife than is working with basswood. Not only is the wood typically harder, but it also contains bits of silica (sand) and other materials that can put tiny nicks in your blade. This is especially true when you're removing the bark and in some woods, the sap wood. You can't strop your knife too much, and doing so on a regular basis will keep the edge sharp.
So, after you've given your knife a good stropping, move on to the next section.
**Making space for the legs**
The first thing we're going to do is cut out the area between the jaw line and the foot line, where the legs will be. Start by making a cut along the foot line, from one depth line to the other, using the tip of your knife. This is called a stop cut.
If you're working with a wood that's harder than basswood (pretty much anything), then it's unlikely that you can make the stop cut deep enough to touch the depth line. Don't try. If you try to force the blade and it slips, you will lose control of it and can very well cut
yourself. Or break the knife. Make the cut as deep as you comfortably can. You can make it deeper after you've carved away some of the wood.
Make another stop cut from one depth line to the other, along the jaw line.
The purpose of the stop cut is to stop the knife—prevent it from going beyond the stop. You'll see, when you're whittling away the wood from between the nose and feet, that the wood on the other side of the stop cut very effectively stops the blade. Assuming, of course, you're not using too much force.
Now, carefully and using *thin* slices, begin carving away the wood between the two stop cuts. If you try to dig too deeply here, you're likely to break the feet off and you'll end up with a pawless dog. Take your time, starting from the middle or slightly higher, and with a slicing motion draw the knife through the wood to the stop cut. As you carve away material to the depth of the stop cut, take the tip of your knife and deepen the cut. Be careful, though, not to make the stop cut deeper than the depth line.
You'll also want to turn the piece over and carve from the middle to the stop cut along the jaw line. Continue removing wood until you have a flat spot between the jaw line and the foot line, that's as deep as the depth lines. Your figure should now look like this.
Slimming down
The dog's a little bit too fat, so we need to slim him down a bit. This won't be the final slimming, but doing a little slimming now will help with the next few steps.
Using your knife, you want to flatten the sides of the figure so that they're even with the depth lines. It's okay if you go a little bit deeper than the depth lines, but don't go too far. And take your time. Remember, thin slicing cuts. If you try to take too much off at once, you'll end up taking off a huge chunk.
When you're done flattening the sides, take a moment to refresh the lines with your pencil. Extend the center line from the nose to the feet, and redraw the side lines that you just carved away.
Now is a good time to strop your knife. Remember, you want to keep that blade sharp. Regular stropping will help prevent you from damaging the edge and forcing you to go back to the stone for sharpening.
**Forming the face**
We're going to take the first few steps in forming the dog's face here. Start by drawing a diagonal line on each side of the figure, from the nose line to the side line at the top. I call this the face line.
Then, make a stop cut along the nose line and, starting from the top of the figure, carve material away at a diagonal, going no deeper than the face line.
I start at the top and work my way down because it's easier to get the slope that way. It's much more difficult to carve up from the nose because the back of the blade will bump up against the nose and will cause the edge to "chatter" across the wood. That can damage the edge.
The idea here is to create a surface that slopes from the back of the nose to the top of the figure (which will be the ears), and that's slightly curved from left to right. The top part of the nose is as deep as the depth lines. At the top of the figure, there should be a gentle curve from one side line to the other.
Note that I took a moment to extend the center line again. It's a good idea to keep redrawing your guidelines as you go along. You'll be surprised how much that helps in keeping your carvings reasonably symmetrical.
**Blocking out the nose**
I like big noses on my Whittle Pups. The figure at the top of this page, for example, has a nose that's 1/2 inch (1.3 cm) wide. I wouldn't go wider on a dog of this size, but you probably don't want the nose to be much thinner than 1/4 inch (0.6 cm). For this figure, I suggest that you draw a vertical line 1/4 inch (one pencil width) from each side of the center line, where you want the nose to be.
Then, place the edge of the knife along that line, angled slightly outward, and slice along the line. You'll be cutting a slight angle so that the back of the nose (where it meets the face) is slightly wider than the front of the nose. The result should be a pyramid-like shape, except the top is flat rather than pointed.
I've found the best way to do this with harder woods is to make a shallow angled stop cut, then remove wood from the side to the depth of the cut. Then deepen the stop cut, maintaining the angle, remove more wood from the side, etc.
Don't worry if you didn't get the angle perfect or if the nose (like mine) isn't quite square. We're just roughing it out at this stage, and we'll come back to even things out later.
Give your knife a good stropping before you continue.
**Rounding the body**
With the nose established, and the very rough curve of the face defined, it's time now to round the body. This is the first step in blending the nose into the face. It also will define to a large extent the final shape of the figure.
Unfortunately, there are no hard and fast rules here. I don't have measurements to give or exact instructions for what is "right" at this point. Instead, you want to begin rounding the hard edges from the sides of the dog, especially those edges where the depth lines used to be. Take it gradual, removing a little bit of material at a time. You want to take thin cuts to prevent going too deep and splintering the wood. You'll also need to take a little bit off the corners of the feet. Be careful when you're doing this or you'll end up chopping off a whole foot.
Don't be afraid to remove material, but don't be too aggressive about it. Especially towards the bottom. In fact, you might want to leave the bottom half (below the bottom of the nose) a little bit wider until the next step. It's not required, and I didn't do it in my
example. But it wouldn't hurt, since we'll be taking a little more off the bottom half in the next few steps.
**Carving the tail**
If the block of wood you selected has a stub tail built in, you can skip this step and go on to the next.
If you don't have a built-in tail, you need to relief carve one. Doing so is pretty easy. On the back of your figure, draw an outline of the tail as you would like it to appear. You'll want to draw the outline slightly larger than you want the tail to be when you're done.
Note that in this picture I've already outlined the back legs. You can wait until then to do the tail if you want, but I've found that it's easier to do it earlier.
With the tip of your knife, make a stop cut all around the outline of the tail. This cut should be pretty shallow, as the tail doesn't have to stick up from the body very far in order to look good. Again, be careful here. You're better off starting with the tip at the
base and cutting up towards the tip of the tail. If you carve down from the tip, you risk the tip of your knife slipping off the edge of the wood and ending up in your hand.
Once you've made the stop cut around the tail outline, carefully remove wood from the body up to that stop cut. Take your time and don't go too deep. If you need to go deeper, make the stop cut again and remove more wood.
When you've finished removing wood, carefully round the edges of the tail and try to make the entire tail look rounded from side to side. The tail in the picture below has the edges rounded, but I didn't complete rounding the entire thing.
I probably could have gone a little deeper on this tail, but it will do.
When you're done rounding the tail, take a little time to round the body from the tail to the sides, to hide the flat spot you probably created when you relief carved the tail.
**Separating the head**
Extend the side lines again, down from the top of the piece to the bottom. Then, draw the neck line from the bottom of the jaw, around the side, and 1/4 inch (0.6 cm) or one pencil width behind the side line. This is where we'll cut to separate the head from the body.
The neck line should be flat (parallel with the desk) or angle up very slightly. Do not make it angle down towards the back. You should be careful here and try to make the angles the same on both sides of the neck. We'll be rounding and shaping later, but it's easiest if you start with the sides looking at least somewhat similar.
Make a stop cut along the neck line, from one side, across the front, to the other side. This cut doesn't have to be very deep. Maybe 1/16 inch (0.15 cm). All you're going to do at this point is take a small amount of wood from the body to show the separation. The figure won't have much of a neck, if any at all.
Forming the back legs
We'll form the back legs next, so that we can get the body of the figure to its (almost) final width. It's important to do that now so that we can carve the head to match the body. Otherwise you're likely to end up with the head looking much too large.
With your trusty pencil, make a mark on the front-back center line at the top of the figure, about 1/4 inch (0.6 cm) from the back. Then, draw a line perpendicular to the front/back line and extend it all the way down both sides of the figure.
1/4 inch is an approximation. On my little figure, the line is actually 3/16 inch (about 0.5 cm). The measurement isn't critical, but it probably shouldn't be much more than 1/4 inch. The line is a guide for the next step.
Now, on the side of the dog, make a mark about 3/8 inch (about 1 cm) up from the bottom. Then, draw the outline of the back leg and paw, as shown in the figure. The top of the curve shouldn't go much higher than that 3/8 inch mark you made. Do this on both sides of the figure.
With the tip of your knife, carefully make a stop cut along those leg outlines. This doesn't have to be very deep: 1/16 inch to 1/8 inch (0.2 or 0.3 cm) is plenty. You have to be careful for two reasons. If you apply too much pressure the knife could very well slip and the point will end up in your hand. That carving glove is great for stopping minor slicing cuts, but it definitely will not stop the tip of your knife from going into your hand. Also, if you apply too much pressure, you're very likely to break off the tip of your knife on one of those curves.
I've found it easiest to start with the tip of the knife in the "corner" where the paw meets the leg. Do the stop cut from there to the back of the figure. Then, turn the carving over, put the tip of the knife in the corner again, and cut the outline of the paw. Be very careful, though, when coming off the edge, as the knife could slip. You might want to cut the top of the paw from the corner and then cut the front of the paw from the bottom up.
When you've made the stop cut, carefully slice wood away to the depth of the cut. If you want to go deeper, slice some wood away, score the stop cut again, and slice a little deeper.
You want to be careful when working near that stop cut, especially down towards the paw. It won't take much to slice that hip or paw right off, and then you'll have to make your dog thinner. Take your time and make thin slices, deepening the stop cut with the tip of your knife as required.
After you've relieved the back leg and paw on both sides, carve the sides of the figure flat, to the depth of the stop cut.
Don't worry right now if your cuts aren't clean. We'll come back and round the back legs after a bit. I just wanted to make sure that we know how wide the body is going to be before we do final shaping of the head.
Give your knife a good stropping now. You'll want the blade to be in good shape before moving on.
**Blocking out the ears**
Whittle Pups have very little in the way of detail. Most of what catches a person's eyes with these carvings is the head, and the ears make up a pretty big part of those features. An experienced carver can do wonders with the ears. I just try to make them reasonably symmetrical.
In this carving, the front of the ears lies along the left/right center line on the top of the wood. The ears are about 1/4 inch (0.6 cm) tall. To block them out, I start by drawing a line around the entire block, 1-3/4 inches (4.5 cm) from the bottom. If you started with a piece of wood 2 inches tall, that should make your ears 1/4 inch tall. We'll call this the ear line, since only ears appear above it. Then, extend the right/left center line down to that
line on both sides and draw another left/right line about 1/4 inch (0.6 cm) behind that. You should now have a block across the top that shows where the ears will go.
Now, start carving away everything above the ear line except that block where the ears will be. Take your time with this. Take small bites and try not to let the knife "chatter" over the wood. When you're done, your carving should have a flat head with a 1/4 inch block across the middle, like this.
The last step in blocking out the ears is to separate them. We're not going to give them their final shape, but we want to separate them so that we can shape the head.
On the front of the carving, extend your center line (it's probably still there on the nose) to the ears. Now, measure 1/4 inch (one pencil width or 0.6 cm) on each side of the center line and make a mark. We're going to remove the wood between the ears.
I've found the best way to remove the wood between the ears is to start by making deep cut along the center line at the top. Don't try to force the edge of your knife down there, as you might split the wood. Just make a nice deep cut with the edge. Then, make angled cuts from the top to the middle from each side of the center line.
Granted, that's not the cleanest cut I ever made. You'll probably be cutting through the pith (center of the branch) here, and that can get kind of fuzzy. Continue making those angled cuts, making thin slicing cuts and deepening the center cut as you go. Once you've reached the top of the head, begin carving away each side from the middle. I suggest that you not go all the way to the 1/4 lines that we drew, since you'll probably want to leave a little room for shaping the ears. Your figure should look like this when you're done blocking out the ears.
I probably left a little too much for the ears there, but you get the idea. Don't go all the way to the mark, but leave some. Strop your blade before going on to the next section.
**Shaping the head**
At the back of the figure, you want to create a gentle curve, sloping the head all the way up to the back of the ears. The curve should start at about the same level as the top of the nose. You also want to make sure that there is a curve from right to left. You don't want the back of the head to be flat. Take your time, starting at the top and working your way slowly down. You might also want to take this time to angle the back of the dog slightly up from the tail. Just take a few thin slices. There's probably some sapwood still on the back of the figure that you can remove to make this slope.
Make a mark on the side lines, about 1/8 inch (0.3 cm) below the top of the head, as shown in the figure above. Then, make an angled cut that slopes from that mark to about the mid-point of the blocked-out ear. Do this on both sides of the carving. This gives you a rough idea of the shape you want to make with the front of the head.
Now, starting again at the top, begin sloping the front of the head and the face back towards the ears, and rounding the face from left to right. The head should curve smoothly up from from the bottom of the two angled cuts we just made. The face should be almost flat (from side to side) in the center (about 1/4 inch or 0.6 cm wide), and begin to curve back to the sides.
From the nose, you want the face to slope up more steeply at the bottom and then flatten somewhat when it gets to the ears. The face is sloped and the top of the head is relatively flat.
You want to get nice smooth curves, but don't worry if it doesn't look exactly right. You still have to shape the snout and the sides of the head. After you do that, you'll want to come back and do some final touch-ups to the face before carving the details.
Again, strop your blade before continuing.
**Shaping the snout**
It's time to round that big block nose. We want to turn that square nose into an upside-down "U" shape, and smooth the edges. Start by slicing off the top corners of the nose block. Take a thin slice. Remember, you can always take off more. You want the middle part of the snout to be flat, but then to curve down a bit. Here's what mine looks like after I've taken off the corners.
Next, taking very thin slices, round the snout so that it makes a gentle curve from right to left. There should be no sharp edges on the left or right sides of the snout.
We're done with the snout for now. We'll come back to it later to add the details of the nose and the dog's mouth.
**Finishing the head shape**
The figure's head is still rather blocky. In truth, the final figure will have a somewhat blocky head, but what I currently have isn't quite right. The head is slightly too wide, and the separation between head and body needs to be gentled. The face, too, should slope more smoothly back from the snout. Right now there's a hard separation.
Start by cutting the hard edge off the bottom of the head, where the head is separated from the body. You want to angle the cut a little bit to give the appearance of rounding.
The head is slightly too wide for the body; at least it is on my figure. I elected to take a little bit off of each side, being sure to take it all the way up the ear blocks, too. Again, use thin slices so you don't take too much off. After you've made the head as wide as you think it should be, do the final rounding. You want to carve back from the snout, pulling away at a bit of an angle. The idea is to blend the snout with the face. You'll probably end up taking quite a bit of wood off the face as you blend in the snout.
Shaping the ears
It's time to get rid of those blocky ears. First, use your pencil to extend the center line over the dog's face and up between the ears. You want to make sure that inside edges of the ears, when you're done shaping, are approximately the same distance from that center line.
With this figure, I'm going to make the ears face forward. If you blocked out the ears as I described, there should be enough material that you could angle the ears in or out a little bit. If you decide to do that, don't get carried away. A very slight angle is sufficient.
I start shaping the ears by cutting away material from the back, thinning the ear from the top down. This allows me to make the top of the ear fairly thin, while leaving enough wood at the bottom to keep it from snapping off. As the ear gets thinner, I begin to shape it, rounding it slightly. You don't want the back of the ear to be flat.
Dogs' ears come in all different shapes and sizes. I prefer my Whittle Pups to have somewhat pointy ears. Otherwise the dog looks more like a bear to me. But you can shape the ears however you like.
When you get the ear almost as thin as you like it, take a moment to cut a very thin sliver from the front of the ear, straight down. That will give a flat and smooth surface to the front of the ear and get rid of any knife marks that you made when shaping the face. Here's the figure with one ear carved.
Now carve the other ear. I've never been wholly successful in getting both ears to look the same. I get them as close as I can and call it good enough. If you look closely at pretty much any dog, you'll notice that their ears aren't mirror images of each other, so a little wonkiness in the ears is okay. Still, try to get the ears to resemble each other.
You'll notice that shaping the ears changes the dog's face a bit, and you'll probably want to do some more shaping to blend the dog's face in with the new ears. You'll also want to clean up the back of the dog's head. Leave the ears with hard edges. We'll smooth those edges after we hollow out the ears.
Here's the figure with both ears shaped.
We're going to leave the head now, and finish the body. The last thing we'll do is hollow the ears, detail the snout, and carve the eyes.
**Legs and feet**
Cut back the foot piece so that it's no more than 1/4 inch (0.6 cm) wide. The paws will be smaller than you think.
Then, sketch in the legs by drawing diagonal lines down from below the nose. You should have an "A" shape with the apex just a little bit below the bottom of the jaw. See the picture.
Separate the feet by making a stop cut on the center line of the feet, and then successive angled cuts towards that center cut. Deepen the center line cut as needed. Be careful. If you try to force your knife into the wood here, you'll end up splitting the wood and probably taking off a foot. One of the figure's feet rather than your own. If you can find the piece that breaks off, you can glue it back on, but you probably won't be able to hide the glue line.
Now, make a stop cut straight down the center line between the legs, all the way to the bottom of the figure. We're going to carve out a fairly deep space there between the legs, but there's no need to do it all at once. Make the cut as deep as you're comfortable with. Remember, if you try to force it, you'll probably lose control of the blade. And an out of control blade has a distressing tendency to end up buried in your body somewhere.
After you've made that center stop cut, make cuts along the "A", with the tip of the knife angling in towards the center. The idea is to remove about 1/8 inch of the wood between the legs. Be careful of your knife tip here. You'll have it buried in the wood, and twisting the knife will snap that tip pretty easily.
When you're done separating the legs, take a few moments to round the body. There are probably some hard corners from when you were thinning after creating the back legs. You'll also want to gentle the hard edges on the legs, and perhaps undercut the backs of the legs a bit.
The figure's paws might be slightly too tall, and possibly a bit too wide. If your figure's paws are too wide, narrow them by taking material from the outside. If you cut from the inside, you'll have to mess with widening the separation. Remember, though, that the paws are going to get shaped. If they look a little too big as blocks, then they'll probably be okay once you shape them.
To shape the paw, cut the top corners off, leaving a small flat spot on the top. See the first picture, below. Then, cut from the front of the paw, back, creating a slight slope. This will make the paw shorter, and give the top a curved look. Finally, round the front of the paw by taking thin slices from the corners, cutting with the grain (i.e. down).
Go ahead and form the other paw now, too. As with the ears, you want the paws to resemble each other, but they don't have to be identical.
**Sides**
Now you want to create some space on the sides, between the legs and the body. Start by drawing a line from the top of the "A" between the legs, back to the side lines of the figure. Then, draw a line from where the back paw meets the back leg, straight up to the horizontal line you drew. Finally, draw a line from where those two meet, down to where the side line touches the back leg. See the picture.
Make a stop cut along the outline of the back leg, that joins the ends of these two lines. Then, angling the top of the knife in towards the center, cut along the two longer lines to form a hollow between the front leg and the body.
As with separating the legs, take your time here. You will probably need multiple cuts in order to make that space deep enough. Be sure to keep the tip angled in towards the center, as you want to give the space a somewhat rounded look. The space is about as deep as the space between the front legs, but is not flat inside.
Once you have the space hollowed out, carefully round the edges of the space. Also take the time to gentle the hard edges of the back leg and paw.
Make the same cuts on the other side of the figure. Then strop your blade, being especially mindful of the tip, which has been doing most of the work.
**Hollowing the ears**
You've seen by now that it's quite possible to hollow small areas with just your knife. Hollowing the ears is similar to hollowing the space between the body and the legs, although you have to be a bit more careful, since if you go too deep you'll make a hole in the back of the ear.
First, use your pencil to draw the outline of the area you want to remove.
Then, place the tip of your knife at the top of the ear, angling in towards the center, and cut, following the line down to the bottom of the ear. Remove your knife from the wood, turn the carving over, and do the same thing to the other side of the ear. Finally, cut across the bottom of the ear to remove the triangular chip.
Again, you don't have to do this with just three cuts. In fact, unless you've had a lot more practice than I have, you probably won't get a perfect chip with just three cuts. Take your
time, make shallow cuts, and be careful not to go so deep that you poke a hole in the back of the ear.
Hollow out the other ear and then use the end of your knife to clean up around the ears. In particular, remove any line between the forehead and the inside of the ear.
Also, take this time to round the edges of the ears.
**Detailing the snout**
Whenever I'm working on one of these Whittle Pups, I'm amazed at little the thing looks like a dog until I detail the snout and add the eyes. Everything leading up to this point gives *shape* to the figure, but no *personality*. In the next few steps, we're going to make a few small cuts that really bring the carving to life.
With your pencil, draw a square outline for the nose, as shown in the picture.
Use your knife to press on the corner of the nose, making a shallow stop cut.
And then make an angled cut from the side of the snout to that stop cut.
Do the same thing on the other side. Try to make the cuts as similar as possible, but don't fret if they're a little bit off. Remember, you're not trying to win any awards with this figure--just having a little fun.
With the tip of your knife, make a shallow stop cut across the bottom line of the nose.
And then *very carefully* cut up to that line from the bottom. I can't stress enough how careful you should be here. If you get too aggressive, you're going to slice that little nose right off.
Again, being very careful and taking thin slices, flatten the entire snout below the nose.
Now, cut the corners off the nose so you have approximately an octagon. If you have a magnifier, it might come in handy here. And then round the snout again, giving a gentle curve from side to side below the nose.
Re-draw the center line on the snout, and then draw lines from the center line to the bottom corners. My rule of thumb is to draw from the middle of the center line, halfway between the bottom of the nose and the bottom of the snout, but that's not a requirement. You do want to leave a little space between the nose and the top of the mouth.
Now, make a stop cut along each of those angled lines. This doesn't have to be very deep. Be careful, though. The snout is curved, so the tip of your knife will have a tendency to slip off the end. You might want to just place the tip of your knife at the apes and then press the edge along the line,
After you've scored the lines on both sides, use the tip of your knife *underneath* the jaw to remove the triangular chip. You've already severed the fibers, so this chip should come up pretty easily. The most difficult part here is getting that cut even, so that it's the same depth on both sides of the mouth.
Using the tip of your knife, carefully remove a small sliver from the center line between the nose and the mouth. My beginning carving instructor called this the "snot trough."
This next step is optional, but I think it adds a cute little touch to the figure. Draw a curved line from one side of the mouth area to the other. This will make it look like the dog's tongue is sticking out a bit.
Use the tip of your knife to make stop cuts along the tongue line and along the edges of the mouth below the tongue. These cuts don't have to be very deep at all. Then, again from underneath the jaw, remove the wood below the tongue.
Take a few moments to remove the hard edges of the mouth line. You can round the bottom edge if you like. I prefer to keep the hard edge there. For some reason I think it looks better.
**Eyes**
I'll be the first to admit that I can't carve a realistic-looking eye. I'm so bad at it, in fact, that I don't even try. And since this is supposed to be a simple carving, I make the eyes as simple as possible: a triangular chip cut.
Extend the center line up over the face. On one side, draw a vertical line and a horizontal line that meets the vertical line at the top. Do the same for the other side, trying to get the lines the same length and the same distance from the center line.
Now, press the tip of your knife into the wood with the very tip at the corner of the eye and the edge along the vertical line. Remove the knife and do the same with the horizontal line at the top. Then, put the tip of your knife at the bottom of the vertical line and cut out a triangular chip from there up to the horizontal line.
Do the same with the other eye.
Finishing
One of the things I really like about carving found wood is that I don't have to paint it. I don't much like painting, and I've found that wood grain makes a much more interesting look than anything I've ever been able to do with paint. Carvers all have their favorite types of finishes. Here's what I do.
When I'm done whittling, I give my knife a good stropping and then give the figure a once-over, removing any "fuzzies." If I have sandpaper available (220 grit or higher), I might lightly sand the cuts that separate the head from the body, and the cuts that form the rear legs, and any other places where fuzzies might exist. You can do the same kind of thing with a diamond file.
I also sand the bottom by placing a piece of 150 or 220 grit sandpaper on the bench and rubbing the base of the dog over it. This creates a nice flat base, and also makes it easier to sign my name on the bottom.
I'll write my name and the date (usually just the year) on the bottom of the carving with a ball point pen. I've used felt tip markers, but they tend to bleed over time and what I wrote blurs. It's hard enough to read my writing without having the ink blur it.
When I'm satisfied that carving and sanding are complete, I take the figure to the sink and scrub it with an old toothbrush and a little bit of hand soap. I prefer the liquid soap, but I've also used a bar of Ivory. Scrubbing with the toothbrush and soap will remove pencil marks, dirt, and oils from your hands. After I've rinsed all the soap, I blot the figure dry and then let it sit for a couple of hours to fully dry out.
I generally don't paint my Whittle Pups. I used to paint the nose black, the tongue red, and the inside of the ears pink, but that got to be too much trouble. Now, I just make a couple a dot inside each eye (usually with a pencil or a felt tip pen), and then apply Howard Feed 'N Wax to the entire carving, including the base. Feed 'N Wax is a mixture of orange oil and beeswax. I've also used Howard Butcher Block Conditioner, which is a mixture of mineral oil and beeswax. Or, you can just use straight mineral oil.
I've found that the Feed 'N Wax darkens the wood slightly, and somehow causes the details to stand out a little bit. If the wood is especially dry, I'll apply a coat of mineral oil, let it soak in for a half hour or so, and then apply a good coat of Feed 'N Wax. I usually let that sit overnight, and the next morning I buff the figure with a shoe brush that I've dedicated to my wood carving.
Many other finishes are possible. Some people like sprays like Deft or Krylon. If I use the sprays, I use a satin or matte finish because I don't like my Whittle Pups to have that shiny look.
Understand, nothing says you have to apply any kind of finish to the Whittle Pup. You can keep it all natural if you like, although I wouldn't recommend it. |
DECIPHERING URBAN LIFE: A MULTI-LAYERED INVESTIGATION OF ST. ENOCH SQUARE, GLASGOW CITY CENTRE
Ashraf M. Salama*, Adel M. Remali, Laura MacLean
Keywords
urban space; urban life; social interaction; city centre; Glasgow
Abstract
An urban space is a vital stage for social interaction and city life. Measuring the city life is always related to social, economic and cultural conditions of an urban context. Social gathering increases the quality of urban space and improves economic vitality. This paper aims to explore how successful urban spaces could impact the growth and performance of an urban context, not only as a physical urban reality, but also as a generator of social life. Utilising St. Enoch Square as a case study, a multi-layered methodological approach constituted in a series of tools was implemented, including behavioural mapping, visual preference survey, walking tour assessment, contemplating settings, and observing physical traces and by-product of use in order to interpret various forms of experiences that take place. Findings reveal various attributes of St. Enoch Square while highlighting different qualities that promote and support the overall vibrancy of the city life. Conclusions are drawn to emphasise that the physical and spatial characteristics of an urban space are critical factors for maintaining social interaction while creating essential opportunities that support the human experience in the public realm.
A. M. Salama*, Adel M. Remali, L. MacLean
A. M. Salama*, Department of Architecture, University of Strathclyde, 75 Montrose Street, Glasgow G1 1XJ United Kingdom
Adel M. Remali, Department of Architecture, University of Strathclyde, 75 Montrose Street, Glasgow G1 1XJ United Kingdom
L. MacLean, Department of Architecture, University of Strathclyde, 75 Montrose Street, Glasgow G1 1XJ United Kingdom
*Corresponding Author’s email address: ashraf.salama@strath.ac.uk
ArchNet-IJAR is indexed and listed in several databases, including:
• Avery Index to Architectural Periodicals
• EBSCO-Current Abstracts-Art and Architecture
• CNKI: China National Knowledge Infrastructure
• DOAJ: Directory of Open Access Journals
• Pro-Quest
• Scopus-Elsevier
• Web of Science
INTRODUCTION: ASPECTS OF URBAN LIFE IN URBAN OPEN SPACES
Over centuries of city development and civic design public spaces have been considered significant components in urban contexts representing the most convenient places for sociability and everyday interaction where their vibrancy and usability depend on the physical quality and structure. Madanipour (2010) states that the richness of the physical quality of any urban open space plays a major role in attracting people and becomes an active built environment for multiple social activities. They have continually mirrored the integration of local cultural, social, and economic aspects revealing their memory, accessibility, and meaningfulness (Butterworth, 2000). Therefore, urban open spaces accommodate the settings and surroundings that enhance people’s life and impact their perception, feelings and engagement in city life.
Since social interaction is an important human need that when satisfied contributes to personal and social growth and development, public spaces are platforms that hold, generate and enhance this human necessity. Urban spaces are essential elements of urban form that intend to accommodate daily social activities, provide convenient settings, and offer different functions that improve the quality of life within urban context (Tibbalds, 2000). Throughout the history, urban spaces have contributed the most in accommodating various purposes including everyday societal interactions, trade activities, political demonstrations or special events. They have become venues for goods, knowledge, experience, culture, and entertainment. Despite the fact that suitability and functionality of any urban space are dependent on spatial composition and historical aspects; the common denominator is that most squares function as meeting places and gathering nodes in which people spend time and perform a wide spectrum of activities (Canter, 1977) (Figure 1).
While people are influenced by their urban environment and related stimuli, this influence takes place at different levels of human experience and has implications on the resulting behaviour. Consequently, researchers have introduced various approaches for defining the factors that determine these influences including perception, suitability of use, and human experience (Woolley, 2003). According to Carmona et al. (2010), there are two dimensions that characterise urban spaces: the first corresponds to the space and its settings whereas the second represents social activities that ensue within it. The two dimensions have a mutual relationship where the physical composition enables the social activity and ultimately the city life as a whole. Additionally, the social dimension is mainly based on the characteristics and quality of an urban space including accessibility, safety and security, proximity, diversity of functions and street furniture. Gehl (2010) indicates that the success of an urban space is strongly related to the level of possibilities for social engagements and the
variety of activities taking place in it. Moreover, Montgomery (1998) argues that the perception of an urban place is a result of people’s feeling, sensations, reactions, values and impressions. However, people do not share the same perception of any urban space as this process is subjective and is based on various factors that include age, gender, cultural background, and past experiences. Therefore, the landscape of an urban space could be understood, experienced and perceived, and reacted to differently and in various ways.
Fotis (2015) states that public spaces allow people to meet intentionally or unintentionally within a convenient platform in order to interact, socialise, and share their feelings and experiences. By enabling this interaction, urban open spaces can contribute to the cohesion of communities. Furthermore, cities could not survive without urban spaces in which all kinds of personal, cultural and economic exchanges take place. Therefore, urban open spaces are important places for people to meet and interact, but their significance varies. Along the same line of thinking Amin (2008) argues, and rightly so, any urban street or square will impact on the performance of most social groups and its qualities determine the way in which it is used.
Another quality of urban open spaces pertains to the sense of individuality within collectiveness. Salama and Gharib (2012) note that privacy is, to an extent, a required feeling in public spaces as it reflects natural social behaviour of people’s needs. Therefore, applying a range of settings with different layouts in a public place can provide a clear uniqueness of the physical structure of an urban space, offer positive perception and support privacy within social interaction in a public environment. The variety of landscape elements and the spatial subdivisions of a public space help accentuate the contrast with the adjacent surroundings and make it easier for the users to relax. The landscape elements include sculptures and plants; soften the rigidity and solidity of the surrounding buildings that edge urban streets or squares (Remali, 2014) and these can also contribute to the sense of individuality within collectiveness.
Following the work of Krier (1979), the richness of the urban domain is enhanced by adjacent façades that are architecturally subdivided and defined at both the ground and upper floors. This form of articulation promotes visual attractiveness and a comfortable pedestrian scale, which is meaningful and significant for an urban user. Articulation of building volumes and changes in fenestration patterns are effective strategies for diversity of façades while defining distinct modules. The body of literature developed over the past several decades continues to emphasise the relationship of urban landscape and social life and demonstrates the tools that could provide a better understanding of the usability of urban spaces and the way in which it can be improved and enhanced (Gehl, 1987; Gifford, 2001; Jacobs, 1961; Marcus and Francis, 1998; Rapoport, 1990; and Whyte, 1980). Knowledge of urban open space has expanded to include their role, usability and utilisation and has continued to stress the qualities required for a thriving urban space (Lang, 1987; Lynch, 1960; Nasar, 1998; and Rapoport, 1977).
The preceding discussion suggests that studying how urban spaces stimulate urban life continues to be fundamental in interpreting the relationship between users and their surroundings. The paper thus introduces a multi-layered investigation for examining one of the oldest squares in Glasgow City Centre, St. Enoch Square. Methodologically, the investigation is implemented in a number of layers that involve behavioural mapping, visual preference survey, walking tour assessment, contemplating settings, and observing physical traces and by-product of use in order to interpret various forms of experiences that take place. Such a mechanism enables a reflective discernment into the understanding of the fundamental characteristics of urban open spaces that stimulate urban life.
A BRIEF TALE OF ST. ENOUCHE SQUARE
St. Enoch Square is a public square located on the south side of Glasgow city centre at a central location where two important pedestrian streets meet, Buchanan Street and Argyle Street. It also links the city centre with banks of River Clyde. Prior to 1780s, St. Enoch Square was only a grazing area for sheep (Pollard, 1994). Initially, Buchanan Street was the dominant axis that stretches between the Merchant City and Blythswood New Town and links two major public spaces at that time, which are: Enoch’s Yard and Caledonia Square. Enoch’s Yard or St. Enoch Square as it is called today became a pivotal link between a riverside chain of diverse public places and the city centre (Reed, 1993) (Figure 2).
During the decade of 1780s the square became a sacred ground accommodating a chapel and last resting place of St. Enoch (St. Thenew), mother of St. Mungo (the Patron Saint of Glasgow). In 1790 the grounds of the square were paved with stones, and the chapel was expanded to a larger church. In 1876 St. Enoch Railway Station was opened and three years later a hotel with 200 bedrooms was constructed as the most imposing structure in Glasgow (Senex, 2016). Both the station and the hotel were among the first buildings in Glasgow to be lit by electricity. However, St. Enoch church was demolished on 1926 in order to develop a bus station and a car park. In 1974 the hotel was removed in order to use the site as a car park until 1985 when construction works commenced to build St. Enoch Shopping Centre (Jones, 2010). (Figure 3).
In recent years Glasgow has established its new role as an important post-industrial European city and has become a vibrant hub for trade, education, culture, and arts. Despite urban sprawl, social segregation, and car dependency (Frey, 1999) the city displays a great deal of spatial and formal consistency, which makes it a thought-provoking place for urban exploration. Amongst the developments that took place over the past two decades were the...
refurbishment of St. Enoch Shopping Centre in 2005 and the renovation of St. Enoch Subway in 2015 as part of the urban challenge to modernise the square and the city centre.
Figure 3. The evolution of St. Enoch Square from 1782 to present
(Source: 1, 2, 3 Jones, 2010, and 4 Authors).
METHODOLOGY
The study employs a multi-layered investigation mechanism in order to assess the way in which St. Enoch Square in its current form stimulates urban life. The analysis is based on both quantitative and qualitative procedures with the aim of interpreting the relationship between the physical composition and social activities. In order to reach a comprehensive understanding on the usability, efficiency and perception of St. Enoch Square, the investigation mechanism represents an assessment framework, which is based on tools derived from earlier studies that engage with the field of environmental psychology.
Constituted in a series of tools the mechanism includes behavioural mapping (Sanoff, 1991), visual preference survey (Nasar, 1988 and Rapoport, 1990), walking tour urban space assessment procedure (Salama and Azzali, 2015), contemplating settings (Salama, 2012), and observing physical traces and by-product of use (Zeisel, 1984) in order to construe various forms of experiences that take place within the square (Figure 4). The first layer involves behavioural mapping that provides a better understanding of how users engage with the square, the amount of people passing through or using the space, and the variety of activities they perform. The visual preference survey is undertaken to divulge how those who live, visit, and work in St. Enoch Square perceive it within its urban context. The walking tour assessment focuses on examining and assessing functional, social and perceptual attributes of the square. Contemplating settings procedure captures spontaneous situations of human behaviour that takes place in the square. The observation of physical traces and by-product of use is undertaken to examine various types of use that enable the verification of key outcomes of implementing other tools.
DISCUSSION OF TOOLS AND KEY FINDINGS
**Behavioural Mapping**
Given the scale of St. Enoch Square mapping was conducted by a team of three researchers at the same time while enabling effective observation of users and the range and type of activities. The study classifies urban users of the square into three categories: singles (male & female), couples (mixture & unisex), and groups (mixture & families). The categories were observed during their moving/dynamic and stationary/static activities at two different times of the week; midweek and weekend. Specifically, observations were conducted in the morning (10:30-11:30am) and afternoon (2:30-3:30pm) of the same representative days. It is recognised, however, that the profile of users and use within the space may vary if the observation was undertaken using other representative days or other times.
Although various types of use within St. Enoch Square operate and are available throughout the week, there are different degrees of variations of pedestrians’ flow, type, and density. Principally, the analysis unveils that the space is more vibrant during afternoons than mornings for all types of users. However, there are only minor variations in the total number of groups and couples who use the space during weekends. While the analysis demonstrates that liveliness of St. Enoch Square during weekends is relatively high, it is noticed that intensity of use increases in afternoons and decreases in mornings. It is also observed that moving activities are very similar during a weekend morning and a midweek afternoon (Figure 5, Tables 1 & 2). The vibrancy of stationary activities follows the same pattern of moving activities, where the amount of people performing stationary social interaction in weekend decreases considerably during midweek. Apparently, both walking and stationary activities decline at the morning times.
Figure 5. Moving and stationary activities in midweek and weekend during mornings and afternoons (Source: Authors).
Table 1. The total number of urban users according to social groups (Source: Authors).
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th></th>
<th>Midweek</th>
<th></th>
<th>Weekend</th>
<th></th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Group</td>
<td>Couple</td>
<td>Single</td>
<td>Total</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Morning</td>
<td>468</td>
<td>300</td>
<td>538</td>
<td>1,306</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Afternoon</td>
<td>660</td>
<td>472</td>
<td>743</td>
<td>1,875</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 2. The total number of urban users according to type of activities (Source: Authors).
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th></th>
<th>Midweek</th>
<th></th>
<th>Weekend</th>
<th></th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Moving Activities</td>
<td>Stationary Activities</td>
<td>Moving Activities</td>
<td>Stationary Activities</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Morning</td>
<td>1,306</td>
<td>164</td>
<td>1,733</td>
<td>288</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Afternoon</td>
<td>1,875</td>
<td>193</td>
<td>2,061</td>
<td>374</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Visual Preference Survey
A photographic attitude survey was conducted to examine the way in which different types of users perceive St. Enoch Square and its spatial and visual qualities. This was part of a larger study that included examining user perception of nine spaces within Glasgow city centre (Salama, Remali, MacLean, 2017). The sample of users was randomly selected from the domestic urban users who visit St. Enoch square and the city centre of Glasgow on a daily
basis, the majority of which were known to the research team. Four categories of age groups were identified based on 35 responses out of 60 potential participants who received the survey questionnaire. They were divided into 16-25, 26-35, 36-45, and 46+. These age groups represent (37%), (14%), (09%), and (40%) respectively, and were further divided into two groups, males (51%) and females (49%) as shown in Table 3.
Table 3. The overall profile of respondents to photographic attitude survey (Source: Authors).
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Group of Respondents</th>
<th>Categories</th>
<th>Number</th>
<th>Percentage</th>
<th>Total</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>According to Age</td>
<td>16 - 25</td>
<td>13</td>
<td>37%</td>
<td>100%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>26 - 35</td>
<td>05</td>
<td>14%</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>36 - 45</td>
<td>03</td>
<td>09%</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>46+</td>
<td>14</td>
<td>40%</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>According to Gender</td>
<td>Male</td>
<td>18</td>
<td>51%</td>
<td>100%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Female</td>
<td>17</td>
<td>49%</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Participants were given a week to respond to the survey and were offered the opportunity to contact the researchers for any clarification needed. The assumption was that all participants have experienced Glasgow city centre. Participants in the survey responded to the images of each space using polar adjectives that best describe it. The survey also included questions that enable the identification of the space as a most liked, most visited, most passed-by, and that which represent the city. Paired adjectives that demonstrate included the following:
- inviting/uninviting,
- iconic/ordinary,
- distinctive/indistinctive,
- vibrant/boring,
- urban/peripheral,
- familiar/unfamiliar,
- pleasing/unpleasing,
- restful/stressful
- usual/unusual,
- complex/humble and
- inspiring/uninspiring.
The analysis reveals that both genders consider that St. Enoch Square is characterised by urbanity, vibrancy and familiarity (Figure 6). This can be attributed to its qualities in terms of accommodating historical features or important buildings, or diversity of land uses. However, the Square is identified by a considerable percentage of males and females as ordinary and this is possibly a translation of its general spatial and architectural qualities. In addition, females believe that St. Enoch Square is unusual and distinctive, while male comprehend the Square as humble and indistinctive urban space (Figure 7). The majority of females perceive it as neutral in terms of invitation, simplicity, inspiration and being pleasing. This can be attributed to the degree of intensity of use and the crowding levels that characterise the space. Yet, the majority of males perceived only two attributes as ‘neutral’: restfulness and distinctiveness. This clearly corresponds with the essential characteristics of the Square as a transitional space that interconnects the busy urban life of the city centre and the river.
St. Enoch Square provides a direct connection with the city’s Golden Z as the busiest shopping hub. This is coupled with hosting a direct access to one of key entrances of St Enoch shopping centre and accommodating a wide range of cafés, restaurants and shops. The survey, however, reveals that none of the age groups have expressed any degree of
likeability to this square. Inconsistent with the results of the mapping analysis which demonstrates intensive use, the Square has received a negative visual preference in terms of overall daily visiting. As well, none of the age groups have expressed any feeling toward St. Enoch Square as a preferred urban space to visit or as a destination within the city centre of Glasgow.
Only two age groups, 16-25 and 46+, identify St. Enoch Square as the most passed-by urban space in the city centre. This reflects that the primary use of St Enoch Square is more of a pedestrian route rather than a destination space. Surprisingly, the Square has received no response as a representative urban space for the city as a whole, even though it is one of the urban spaces that have evolved over two centuries and has witnessed many historical events and urban developments.
Figure 6. Positive qualities of St. Enoch Square as perceived by male and female respondents (Source: Authors).
Figure 7. Negative qualities of St. Enoch Square as perceived by male and female respondents (Source: Authors).
A Walking Tour Urban Space Assessment Procedure
Following earlier scholarly explorations conducted in other contexts (Salama and Azzali, 2015) as well as for nine key spaces within Glasgow City Centre (Salama, Remali, MacLean, 2017), this layer of investigation includes an examination of functional, social, and perceptual attributes through a walking tour assessment procedure designed to facilitate a deeper understanding of St. Enoch Square. A tool is devised in terms of three checklists underlying three major sets of attributes namely: functional, social and perceptual. Each set includes 12 factors with a scoring system and a four-point scale, where scores are assigned against each factor in terms of degree of appropriateness. Scores are then averaged to reach a collective score for each set of attributes. The total 36 factors stem from urban literature and are developed to reflect the quality of an urban space underlying the three sets. It is recognized that some factors underlying one set of attributes may overlap with factors underlying another. In essence, this ensures a process of verification; that if one factor is misinterpreted in the scoring of one set, such a misinterpretation could be corrected when assessing a similar one under another set.
**Functional Attributes:** This set includes factors relevant to variety of uses; ecological quality; formal quality; accessibility; space subdivision; legibility; definition; richness of visual experience; richness and diversity of landscape elements; robustness and adaptability; proximity and continuity; and spatial quality. All indicators of this set have received highly appropriate scores. This is due to the fact that St. Enoch Square accommodates a wide range of uses and contains adequate street furniture that contributes to a variety spectrum of small settings (Figure 8). The square has clear and well defined boundaries and is legible and these qualities make it distinguishable with flexible access and connectivity. Although a mixture of eclectic architectural vocabulary edges and defines the Square it still demonstrates richness of visual experience and spatial and formal quality. The urban space’s size, proximity to important attractions and its overall physical structure make it easy for adaptability, resilience and robustness. This confirms why the Square is one of the main urban spaces within the city centre of Glasgow that holds a range of markets and occasional events throughout the year and in essence demonstrates the key role functional attributes play in enhancing its usability. Receiving highly appropriate scores in these functional attributes clearly corresponds with the analysis of behavioural mapping and demonstrates the fundamental nature of these as indicators in stimulating urban life.
**Social Attributes:** This set encompasses factors or indicators that pertain to sense of interaction; inclusivity; diversity of age groups; diversity of activities; ethnic diversity; efficiency of use; functionality; reachability; accessibility for users with special needs; human scale, and harmony. The assessment reveals that all social attributes of St. Enoch Square are highly appropriate (Figure 9). The space is easily reachable by many options of public transportation in addition to accommodating a subway station within its premises, two main routes of buses pass by and two train stations are located within a very short walking distance; Central Station and Argyle Street Station. Since the Square is pedestrianized and is paved by one level of stone, it is easily accessible from the surrounding urban context for all types of users irrespective of their age or ability. This demonstrates that as an urban space, it is harmoniously integrated to the adjacent built environment in which mainstream pedestrian movement of the public is enhanced by the city’s golden Z, diversity of activities, and efficiency of use. Social attributes demonstrate that St. Enoch Square is an intimate urban place that serves diverse groups from different ethnic backgrounds while offering sense of inclusivity by varied arrangements of street furniture elements. This enables settings to manifest, which fulfil the sense of human scale. Notably, the study conveys that
when social attributes are highly appropriate they help develop a general sense of social attachment to the physical place.
Figure 8. Space subdivision and diversity of use in St. Enoch Square (Source: Authors).
Figure 9. Vibrancy and diverse social experiences at different times of the day (Source: Authors).
Perceptual Attributes: This set includes key attributes related to suitability and desirability; relaxation and comfort; human needs for regular use; safety and security; memory; cultural diversity; attractiveness; noise acceptability; identity and history; distinction and recognition; night engagement, and density of users. The overall assessment of perceptual attributes of St. Enoch Square resulted in 3.02 score. The observation shows that it provides a sense of relaxation and comfort for all users where the feeling of privacy and personal distance are respected and valued. For the research team, this urban space independently delivers a memorable and attractive architectural character along with spatial experience. The square reflects, to some extent, the city’s identity by accommodating the historical buildings and major buildings such as St. Enoch Shopping Centre, which consequently make it recognised as a unique destination within the city centre of Glasgow. It is important to note that cultural diversity, suitability, acceptability, and addressing user needs are clearly the most important perceptual attributes that contribute to enriching St. Enoch Square for social activities (Figure 10). In contrast with the photographic attitude survey results, attributes that pertain to history, memory, attractiveness and distinction have contributed to the recognition of the space as one of the most successful urban nodes within the city centre of Glasgow.
Figure 10. Efficiency and possibilities for various behavioural opportunities (Source: Authors).
After conducting the assessment of the 12 indicators of each set in St. Enoch Square, the survey conveys that as an urban space, it is highly appropriate (Table 4) as it has received a score of 3.37 in total with functional attributes receiving the highest scores of 3.60 indicating high degree of appropriateness followed by the social attributes that scored 3.50 while perceptual attributes received 3.02. Palpably, the overall results provide a clear evidence of how the Square operates and how various attributes contribute to its success.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Functional Attributes</th>
<th>Variety of Uses</th>
<th>Ecological Quality</th>
<th>Formal Quality</th>
<th>Accessibility</th>
<th>Space Subdivision</th>
<th>Legibility</th>
<th>Definition</th>
<th>Richness of Visual Experience</th>
<th>Robustness & Resilience / Adaptability</th>
<th>Proximity & Continuity / Need</th>
<th>Spatial Quality</th>
<th>Total Average/space</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Scores</td>
<td>4.00</td>
<td>3.25</td>
<td>3.75</td>
<td>4.00</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td>3.75</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td>3.75</td>
<td>3.60</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Social Attributes</th>
<th>Sense of interaction</th>
<th>Inductivity</th>
<th>Diversity of Age Groups</th>
<th>Diversity of Activities</th>
<th>Ethic Diversity</th>
<th>Efficiency of use</th>
<th>Functionality</th>
<th>Reachability</th>
<th>Accessibility</th>
<th>Accessibility for Special Users</th>
<th>Human Scale</th>
<th>Harmony</th>
<th>Total Average / Space</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Scores</td>
<td>3.75</td>
<td>3.25</td>
<td>3.25</td>
<td>3.25</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td>3.25</td>
<td>3.75</td>
<td>3.75</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td>4.00</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Perceptual Attributes</th>
<th>Suitability and Desirability</th>
<th>Relaxation and Comfort</th>
<th>Human Needs</th>
<th>Safety & Security</th>
<th>Memory</th>
<th>Cultural Diversity</th>
<th>Attractiveness</th>
<th>Acceptability</th>
<th>Identity & History</th>
<th>Distinction / Recognition</th>
<th>Night Engagement</th>
<th>Density of Users</th>
<th>Total Average / Space</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Scores</td>
<td>3.25</td>
<td>3.50</td>
<td>3.00</td>
<td>3.00</td>
<td>3.25</td>
<td>2.75</td>
<td>3.00</td>
<td>3.00</td>
<td>3.25</td>
<td>3.25</td>
<td>2.50</td>
<td>3.00</td>
<td>3.02</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
≤ 1.00 (Highly Inappropriate) > 1.00 – 2.00 (Inappropriate) > 2.00 – 3.00 (Appropriate) > 3.00 Highly Appropriate
Table 4. Scores received by various types of attributes which characterise St Enoch Square (Source: Authors).
Contemplating Settings
St Enoch Square is one of the busiest places in Glasgow city centre. Having a closer look at key identified settings within the space was an important process through which the research team can develop important impressions and assessment of the degree to which the space meets needs and expectations of those who use it, whether as a destination or as a pass by connecting space. By contemplating it is meant that the observer puts a conceptual and mental effort in interpreting the setting. This involves translating key behavioural phenomena such as privacy, territoriality, personal space, personal distance and turn them into concrete terms through description and analytical interpretations of what is observed. While many settings were identified and analysed as part of examining the spatial qualities of St. Enoch Square, four settings are selected to represent various actions and activities within the space.
The contemplation involves the development of statements that aim to answer the question: *Who is doing what, where, how, for how long, and with whom?*
(Figure 11). Setting #1 which continued a fairly long period of time illustrates a single female sitting on street furniture while undertaking several activities (smoking; texting; waiting/resting). The...
street furniture consists of two identical benches positioned on a close distance from each other, but allowing for sufficient personal distance. The person’s position is on one side of the bench closer to the edge, which reveals there is no interest in establishing ownership over the bench. Her purse is attached to her arm instead of left to rest down which suggest that she may leave soon. Her back is turned against the second bench indicating that she does not welcome interaction with people potentially sitting there. Notably, if other individuals sit on the bench next facing any direction her personal space will not be invaded. One set of two benches provides sufficient space and distance for four individuals to sit in without intruding each other’s personal space. In setting # 2 the nature of the activity is very different where a female is standing while undertaking a short period activity. Her attention and head position is turned towards her phone and the surrounding context is not of much interest. The visual connection with the pedestrians ahead is partially broken but can be regained easily. Her back is turned against the café wall using it as shelter, i.e., her position next to a wall provides sense of protection and partial isolation. The café’s wall is further used as a solid barrier between her and the flow of pedestrian movement. It appears that her preference for this location is that it prevents her personal space from being infringed by those passing by in a close proximity.
Setting # 3 demonstrates a common activity that takes place in the space on a daily basis. Two individuals are sitting at a coffee table outside a brand coffee shop. They are positioned in close proximity and the personal space is small. The setting thus suggests that they are interested in the conversation which the positions their backs suggest no interest in the surrounding scene. The boundaries of the setting are clearly identified and are used as café signboard as well as barrier between stationary and moving activities. Despite the fence’s height is only 60cm, it provides an excellent barrier and offers a feeling of protection from the open area. On the other hand the setting # 4 illustrates a setting that involve two passing by females standing in front of information post. While one of them is focusing on the ‘you are here map’, the other is using her cell phone. The two females are positioned in close proximity, which suggests that there is familiar relationship. Their position within the setting indicates that strangers would be unwillingly moving in close proximity in order to gain visual contact or access.
The analysis of the preceding four settings serves as only example of a broad range of settings that offer various functional and behavioural opportunities. It demonstrates the way in which interactions between people and the physical aspects of a setting takes place. The variety of physical objects and street furniture items provide a range of possibilities for engagement. The analytical reflection and contemplation delineates that various physical elements ranging from furniture to building walls play essential part in the behaviour and the overall comfort level of users.
OBSERVING PHYSICAL TRACES AND BY-PRODUCT OF USE
Due to its key position within the city centre and its close proximity to pedestrian streets with heavy pedestrian traffic, thousands of people pass through St. Enoch Square on a daily basis. Being one of the most relative spaces in Glasgow, St. Enoch Square is expected to meet the demands of a large number of daily users and to adequately address the needs of both passing pedestrians and those living or working nearby. This expectation can be met by efficient urban landscape and street furniture design that help enhance the environment by meeting diverse requirements. Furniture items and products, which are generally accessible for public use within the urban space, were examined as part of an observation study (Scola et al, 2016) (Figure 12). Key items assessed were assessed according to their number, physical condition, maintenance, product design, usability, functionality, accessibility, comfort
level, and aesthetics. This was followed by examining the relationship between the products and users and how street furniture affects the pedestrian behaviour enabling an additional layer of understanding the Square.
**Figure 12.** Identified furniture items and products in St. Enoch Square (Source: Authors based on Scola et al. 2016).
- **Street Benches**
- Number of items: 8 pairs
- Usable items: 2 pairs
- Bad condition: 2 pairs
- Good condition: 4 pairs
- **Bicycle Stands**
- Number of items: 3 pairs
- Usable items: 0
- Bad condition: 0
- Good condition: 3 pairs
- **Bollards**
- Number of items: 30
- Usable items: 0
- Bad condition: 12
- Good condition: 18
- **Flag Barriers**
- Number of items: varies
- Usable items: 0
- Bad condition: 0
- Good condition: all
- **Information Posts**
- Number of items: 2
- Usable items: 0
- Bad condition: 0
- Good condition: 2
- **Manu Signs**
- Number of items: 12
- Usable items: 0
- Bad condition: 0
- Good condition: 2
- **Trees**
- Number of items: 25
- Usable items: 0
- Bad condition: 0
- Good condition: 25
**Street Benches** are located in close proximity from each other. While all the benches are cladded with marble, there exist two types, one with curved edges and another with sharp edges. The curved ones are large and form a circular setting while the sharp edged ones positioned in two paralleled rows along the movement flow. The benches that are located along the shops are more likely to be used than those that are positioned adjacent to the cafés and restaurants. The benches are used most of time for seating and resting with intensity of use during lunchtime. The positioning of the benches emphasises the pedestrian movement pattern within the square. The benches are adequately placed in pairs allowing pedestrians to sit in privacy while at the same time offering opportunity for socialization. While the overall number of benches within the Square appears to be adequate, the choice of material does not seem to be so, especially in terms of comfort, colour and surrounding context. No rain drainage solution was provided and the surface is often wet, an aspect of discomfort in the space given the rainy Glasgow weather.
**Bollards** are designed in two different shapes and colours. The metal ones are placed in front of entrance and exit of subway station, while the marble ones are shaped a square adjacent to the brand café. The metal ones appear to be elegant in a sense and match the iconic glass and entrance canopies and therefore the spatial quality of the square is enriched. The marble ones are designed to support the social activities within the square but in fact their location is not well integrated within the square layout.
**Information Posts** appear in excellent physical condition. They are designed to allow more than 3 people to study the ‘you are here map’ without interrupting each other’s personal space. The map size appears to be in adequate size and is legible and easy to read.
Litter Bins are distributed throughout the square in different shapes, sizes, colours and material resulting in a wide range of heterogeneous street items and unattractive scene. Additionally, they do not seem to be well maintained with the majority of bin units is damaged, full or very dirty, aspects that do not contribute to the needs for public hygiene.
Bicycle Stands appear to fulfil their main purpose and are heavily used during the day. The location could have been more effective in terms of visual connection and rain protection. The bicycle stand consists of three to four units located with 1 m separating distance. The height seems to be adequate for locking the bikes without bending over to a low level. The overall number of stands seems to be insufficient to meet the demand especially during lunchtime in weekdays.
Flag Barriers are used by most of the cafes and restaurants within St. Enoch Square. They are used as signage to advertise the café; to outline the open café zone outdoors and to separate it from adjacent cafés and the pedestrian movement. Flag barriers are commonly used by all cafés and restaurants resulting in a sense of uniformity.
Menu displays and signage are part of space furniture with a strong presence in the Square as a traditional method of advertisement for catering places. As such, they attract the attention of pedestrians, for a shortstop and look. As the majority of signs are located within the pedestrian circulation zone, they become a focal point for many users to stop around them for a short and quick conversation.
Trees in St. Enoch Square appear to reduce the hardness of the surrounding buildings and add a natural feel to the spatial quality of the square. They are arranged along the movement paths and their position and size make them recognisable. The number of trees also appears to be very reasonable enhancing movement and stationary activities within the square.
Overall, the square has important features that serve the needs of users including benches, bicycles stands, bollards, litterbins and trees. However, there is a substantial a number of street furniture items that do not adequately fulfil the requirements of a public nor it corresponds to the value and history of the Square.
CONCLUSION
St. Enoch square is an urban space within Glasgow city centre which integrates different architectural vocabularies that have evolved throughout its history since 1780s. Using contemporary technology and emerging design trends resulted in the introduction of new shell structured glass entrances to the subway station; two sculptural access points developed in a style influenced by the classical style of the surrounding buildings. The evolution of the Square through time involved dramatic transformations in its use, from a market place, to a sacred ground, to a car park, to an urban node and a transitional space. Given its central location and that it accommodates the subway station as well as one of the largest shopping centres in the centre of Glasgow, the Square continues to demonstrate the presence of a dense urban life with a variety of restaurants, cafés and local shops surrounding it and where people can have many shopping, dining, and socially engaging opportunities.
The comprehensive multi-layered methodology applied in this study enabled various forms of understanding and deciphering urban life as portrayed in the Square. Behavioural mapping offered a better understanding of how users engage with the square as individuals and in groups, the amount of people passing through or using the space, and the variety of activities they perform. With a focus on females and males perception through verbal description of the qualities of the Square, the visual preference survey revealed an overall understanding of how St. Enoch Square is perceived by those who live, visit, and work in it and within its urban context. The walking tour urban space assessment offered a systematic examination and evaluation of functional, social and perceptual attributes of the Square which received highly appropriate scores indicating the overall success of the Square as an urban open space. Contemplating settings procedure identified spontaneous situations of human behaviour and engagement with a variety of smaller physical units of the Square. The observation of physical traces and by-product of use revealed the quality of space furniture and products and they way in which they support use.
Notably, the findings of the walking tour urban space assessment procedure reveals the significance of the functional attributes identified in maintaining urban vibrancy within the Square. The assessment of social attributes demonstrates that the Square offers a great sense of inclusivity and human scale. The assessment of perceptual attributes indicates that the Square offers its users a sense of relaxation and comfort and that the feeling of privacy and personal distance are respected and valued. While the majority of scores resulted from the walking tour urban space assessment correspond well with the findings of implementing others layers of investigation, key results appear to be in disagreement, especially with the outcomes of the visual preference survey.
An important outcome of this study is that the implementation of one layer of investigation or limited number of information gathering techniques falls short of providing a complete understanding of how urban life is generated and maintained by the attributes and qualities of an urban space. Systematic assessment coupled with an exploration of users perception of urban spaces can be seen as a utility that facilitates the identification and the subsequent understanding of the spatial experience as it relates different types of attributes. While these procedures have resulted in important outcomes with respect to strengths or weaknesses in key qualities of St. Enoch Square, the engagement with knowledge about movement patterns and actual usability of various settings is critical in providing an enhanced understanding of urban life and how it is supported by the physical qualities of the Square. Direct observation and behavioural mapping is a systematic method for describing what visitors and users of the Square actually do there. It is a direct approach, unlike the two
preceding methods that require indirect involvement of users in seeking information about the understanding of setting preferences or urban movement, or the perception of public spaces. Observation and mapping are important tools for understanding the dynamics of human interaction with the physical environment; it is not a substitute to other layers, but an additional approach to data collection which views people as ‘objects’ by recording their periodic behaviour. Valuable information and observations have been obtained where behaviour was systematically recorded involving people, activities, setting or space, and timing. The results of implementing such methods combined would establish enhanced argumentation and rationalisations of various aspects of urban life in urban open spaces.
REFERENCES
|
ISOVISTS REVISITED. Egocentric space, allocentric space, and the logic of the Mannequin
AUTHOR: Daniel KOCH
School of Architecture, KTH Royal Institute of Technology, Sweden
e-mail: daniel.koch@arch.kth.se
KEYWORDS: Architecture, Isovist; Allocentric Space, Abstraction, Spatial Cognition, Logic of the Mannequin
THEME: Architectural Theory and Spatial Analysis
ABSTRACT
The description of the spatial entities used in space syntax is growingly taking on a direct cognitive character, where for example axial lines are often equated to ‘lines of movement’, convex spaces to ‘spaces of being’, and isovists to ‘visual fields’. While developments of these have served to deepen our understanding of spatial configuration in many ways, it is of importance to revisit the origins of the spatial entities used to investigate spatial syntactics and study the implications of alternate definitions. This is a question of what kind of analysis can be performed and on what sort of objects, but also of positioning of the research field. This paper argues that while the perceiving subject is one valid point of interpretation of the spatial entities studied syntactically, other interpretations enable other questions to be investigated and consequently other results to emerge. In this paper the focus lies on how a de-centralisation from e.g. subjects’ visual fields unearths qualities in the isovist and its consecutive systemization into spatial syntactic relations that risk pass by. It furthermore aims to discuss the theory base for analyses of certain phenomena (‘the logic of the mannequin’). This discussion revolves around a concept already highlighted in space syntax theory: allocentricity, i.e. the quality of spatial cognition to recognize the situation of ‘elsewhere’, and discusses the impact of such understanding through systemic operations and through the ‘elsewhere’ of inanimate objects.
The description of the spatial entities used in space syntax is growingly taking on a direct cognitive character, where for example axial lines are often equated to ‘lines of movement’, convex spaces to ‘spaces of being’, and isovists to ‘visual fields’. Many works have also, while not necessarily literally making these simplifications, worked from the point of view of for instance the isovist as situated experience or perception, investigating such things as narratives and sequences of vision (e.g. Psarra, 2009; Zamani, 2009), the visual contexts created in various locations (e.g. Zamani & Peponis, 2007; Koch 2009; Tzortzi, 2009), or following movement routes (Heo, Choudhary, Bafna, Hendrich, & Chow, 2009; Lu, Peponis, & Zimring, 2009). While these works have served to deepen our understanding of spatial configuration, showing how in many situations these are reasonable or even explanatory descriptions, it is of importance to continuously revisit the definitions of the spatial entities used to investigate spatial syntactics and once and again question what they are and the implications of alternate definitions.\(^1\)
The point of such a discussion is not to disqualify any of the findings, but rather to investigate how alternate definitions can contribute to our understanding of spatial syntactics. It can also be claimed important in order to refine theory, while potentially of less direct importance for more pragmatic applications. Furthermore, it may allow for a wider set of analyses to be made. This discussion constitutes not so much a re-description as a refocusing, owing large parts of its approach to Hilier’s (2003) discussion on allocentric space. I will argue that the entities of space syntax are representations of spatial relations, and hence abstractions, and that this means that they must be held separate from that which they represent (compare: Châtelet, 2000). As Châtelet, I will further argue that these abstractions are inherently transformative and thus may capture other things than the property from which they are originally derived (see further: Knoespel, 1999, 2002). This discussion will proceed through three iterations, one addressing some implications of different ways of understanding and describing analytic entities ‘in themselves’ (‘egocentric space’), one discussing the transformations of entities into systems (‘allocentric space’), and one discussing how such allocentric and ‘non-perceptual’ understanding can further elucidate how processes of spatial cognition and interpretation participate in our reading of inanimate objects (‘the logic of the mannequin’). The last step is used also to investigate the relation between analytical question and theoretical base of models so as to see how theory and modelling can adapt to one another. From this discussion it is suggested that certain analyses of syntactic relations, while possible to describe as visual connections, are better explained by not involving vision as the structuring element of the syntax. Tying it together is a discussion on how an allocentric and transformative understanding of analytic entities, which will be the main discussion in the conclusion. This conclusion will further discuss how the transformative operations that the abstractions used in space syntax analysis do not necessarily depend on the entities themselves being perceived either directly or indirectly, which may explain some found results but also open up for some future theoretical refinement and analytic possibilities.
EGOCENTRIC SPACE: OF SUBJECTS AND OBJECTS
To begin with, the focus will be put on the ostensibly most experientially based entity used in space syntax research, namely the isovist. Isovists are commonly defined as representations of what you can see from a certain point – a definition which also is the original one defined by Tandy (1967), derived from A C Hardy and studies of landscapes, and brought into Syntax research via the work of Benedikt (1979). While thus defined in this way from the beginning, and derived from studies of vision, this very definition of ‘visible
\(^1\) It is worth noting that this kind of definition based on situated experience is nearly absent in e.g. The Social Logic of Space (Hillier & Hanson, 1984), and also has a background role in Space is the Machine (Hillier, 1996) or Decoding Homes and Houses (Hanson, 1998).
from a point’ holds key to its deceptive capacity, illustrated by Turner, Doxa, O’Sullivan and Penn’s (2001) comment that:
“The appeal of the concept is that isovists are an intuitively attractive way of thinking about a spatial environment, because they provide a description of the space ‘from the inside’, from the point of view of individuals, as they perceive it, interact with it, and move through it.” (p. 103)
So, how is this a problem? Is ‘fields of view’ not an explanatory description? Several publications show that for many situations, this is quite informative (e.g. Hillier, 2003; Rohlloff, Psarra & Wineman, 2009; Tzortzi, 2007; Choi, 1999; Peponis, Dalton, Wineman & Dalton, 2004; Koch, 2005, 2009; compare: Lu et al, 2009; Heo et al, 2009). The questions to be raised here could be formulated as: How is it a representation of experience ‘from the inside’? Perhaps more pointedly: What are the implications for our understanding of analytic results and e.g. integration models that is embedded in this understanding of the isovist? Rather than the more commonly noted problems of the isovist lacking dimensions or directions (e.g. Penn, 2003; Montello, 2007), I wish to focus on another issue with stronger but more indirect impact: the more deceptive character of the definition to be centred upon here is the implied basis of the isovist, and anything analysed through it, as a description of where someone is or could be and what someone sees or could see. This ostensibly innocent connotation by implication ties together experience, ego, and representation as inherent parts of one another, which is the source of its attraction as well as its problem, similar to how:
“The attraction of the cone of vision model for a critical theory of visual representations is the explicit place it allocates to the subject as inherent part of the system of representation. The major disadvantage of the model is that it maintains the object as external to the subject, existing in an untroubled relation of ‘outside’ to the subjects ‘inside.’ As I observed, the predominance of the optical model has encouraged the confusion of real space with psychical space, the confusion of the psychoanalytic object with the real object.” (Burgin, 1996, p. 67)
While Burgin’s critique is directed at another representational model, that model holds the same basic problem – namely that it puts an inherent emphasis on the seeing subject. A subject that to certain extents is always singular, located, and static [compare Figure 1], but also understood as perceiving rather than projecting. This leads to explanations of analysis attempting to tie the individual entity to the originating subject (compare: Chatelet, 2000).2 The point here is, it must be noted, another than the one Penn makes when problemising the relation between directionality of vision and circularity of the isovist (Penn, 2003, spec. p. 57; compare: Wineman & Peponis, 2010). For the current argument, the problem is not that the isovist is inadequate as a model of representation of people’s vision because it deforms the properties of seeing (I agree with Penn’s critique under these conditions), but in the very implication that it would represent individual experience in that sense to begin with. In the extension of this, tying the isovist to a seeing subject has implications for the rest of the model to be about objects, and even objectification:
“I believe that the metaphor of the ‘cone of vision,’ predominant in theories of representation since the mid-1970s, is itself responsible for a reductive and simplistic equation of looking with objectification. In so far as this metaphor is drawn from physiological optics, it is inappropriate to the description of psychological functions. In so far as it is drawn from Euclidian geometry, it is inadequate to describe the changed apprehension of space which is an attribute of so-called ‘post-modern’ culture.” (Burgin, 1996, p. 40)
---
2 The degree to which this is done varies greatly, and it tends to be in analysis of individual behaviour or narratives specifically but can also be found in reasoning around agent analysis and isovist graphs. It can, however, be traced in tendencies to tie the isovist analysis to analysis of agents with vision (e.g. Penn & Turner, 2003; Penn, 2005) or in the Rational Choice/Game Theory discussion of Markhede (2010).
Figure 1. The Principles of Parallel Projection, from Daniel Fournier, A Treatise on the Theory of Perspective, 1761. The figure illustrates the principles of perspective drawing, but also indirectly the necessity of the viewing subject for the principles to be working.
That is, if the isovist represents the subject, then everything else becomes object, even other people - a claim that is inherently problematic but can be resolved by excluding other people from the equation in favour of a subject-object relation of people and building (or people and material objects). If this is done, the only person left is the subject who is also the origin of the isovists. Notably, this is a common way of making use of isovist analysis or VGA - the behaviour of people in response to space rather than people-person-space complexes. It is even embedded in the methodology even if explanations of found results at times incorporate people-person relations in found emergent patterns. Thus the implication of the isovist as originating as vision from an ego, also places an emphasis on the relation between a subject and external objects. With this said, it must be noted that an interpretation focusing on individual perception is heavily argued against in for instance Hillier and Penn's (2004) rejoinder to Carlo Ratti, and we can also see how Sailer and McCulloh (2011) propose the potential correlations between syntax and performance of offices to be found not via observable movement or direct perception/interaction but via social (actor) networks. Furthermore, Penn (2003) elsewhere argues that the original approach of space syntax was to research societies as distinct from individuals and investigating "what external and common to all individuals" (p.31). Somewhere around this problem we also find a key to the ongoing discussion, which can be illustrated by Lawrence, Payne and De Roue’s (2006) figure of 'egocentric' and 'omniscent' co-presence [Figure 2]. Rather than it being as simple as that one is a multiplication or combination of the other, these are fundamentally different. One is something else than the other at the ontological level of what sort of entity is under scrutiny (individual or collective). The first is dealing with perception and ego in the sense that it handles the question of co-presence with a person, whereas the other deals with collective co-presence which has nothing inherently to do with perception.
Figure 2: ‘egocentric’ and ‘omniscent’ co-presence as defined by Lawrence, et al. Figures at first glance remarkably similar to convex spaces and isovists, perhaps further illustrating the implied ego-centricity of the isovist itself. From by Lawrence, Payne and De Roue’s (2006).
The question then arise as to what extent the situated body is a relevant spatial descriptor as the foundation for the definition of the spatial entity used to measure network connectivity in a comparison to social network analysis? If we focus on the reasoning of Penn above that correlations are based on ‘external’ descriptions of space, further supported by e.g. Hillier (2003) stating more strongly that space is inherently
allocentric, what consequences does this have for the isovist, and how can we make it less centred around the perceiving ego? To begin to unpack this, starting at the level of the individual isovist, I will for now illustrate it through a simple observation of something at times employed within the field – the simple act of inversion. That is, to consider the point of origin of the isovist that which is looked at, rather than that which sees;
"Isovists, in the guise of ‘convex isovists’ (the union of all points isovists within a given convex space) have been used for illustrative purposes in space syntax analysis since they provide a clear representation of the strategic views from (or of) a given location." (Turner & Penn, 1999, p. 1)
The simple comment in parenthesis may thus be of great importance. Let us continue by example of the argument for ‘Positioning Analysis’ (Markhede & Koch, 2007). This analysis argues that office space is better understood as described by isovists originating from positions in space commonly inhabited by co-workers than through an analysis of isovists in a general grid. The investigation provides convincing statistics for this being the case by comparing isovists overlapping vertexes of origins (work places) with degree of face-to-face interaction by each worker’s desk. However, there are some problems with the analysis which stems from exactly the argument above – unreflected connections made between the results and the point of origin of the isovist as the seeing subject. The correlation is equally explained by a re-definition of the isovists into an analysis of how many workplaces each workplace is visible from. That is, the exposure possible to measure through isovists rather than the seeing. It is not clear whether the ones who see more actually interact more, while it is clear that those who are visible from more workplaces also interact more.
It also may account better for the relative independency of the found correlation to actual occupancy of desks. Similar results are reported by Wineman and Peponis (2010), working with directed graphs:
"As we deal with directed graphs, a distinction is drawn between degree ‘in to’ and degree ‘out from’ a node. To be consistent with the terminology of previous studies, we will use the term connectivity rather than degree. We will show that ‘connect in to’ a node is a good predictor of behaviors. It is important that our measure of connectivity is not confused with similar measures as applied to nondirected graphs.” (p. 100)
This illustrates beautifully the point being made here in regards to our understanding of individual positions in the spatial system, not as positions of acting from, but position of being moved to. What differs Wineman and Peponis’s argument from the one above, is that ‘the exposed’ is space rather than workers (or objects) – but it is a logically simple operation once the isovist is inversed to simply remove any object (even potential object) from the point of origin as it is no longer logically required. That is, what becomes apparent is how the inversed isovist is fundamentally independent of anything existing at the point of origin, whereas the isovist as a field of vision is fundamentally dependent on a perceiving subject – even when discussed as ‘potential locations for’ this subject.
The findings of Wineman and Peponis also gives a key to understanding VGA analysis, and how it operates in behaviour (most seen in certain respects more important than closest to get from). The interesting part here is then not the potential or syntactic position when there, but the movement to it. Their findings have importance for what an isovist ‘is’, but while unlocking a simple origin-location connection between isovists and behaviour, the results still revolve around a subject-focused understanding of the isovist, even if generalized. It presupposes that it is a question of someone seeing and/or going.
ALLOCENTRIC SPACE: ABSTRACTED CONFIGURATIONS
The apparently logical conclusion above, correlations dependent on either seen or seeing from, is a rhetorical point which serves as a vehicle to take us into the next step of the discussion, namely that of the transformative effects of systemizing individual entities. That is, it may be that compared to integration, both explanations are weak because they are both heavily focused on seeing. It has been repeatedly stated that some of the findings within the space syntax field has less to do with any of these directly experienced properties and more to do with other properties (see Hillier & Iida, 2005; Penn, 2003; Hillier, 2003; Hanson, 1998). What I intend to do here is to discuss how this transformation through systemization has implications for the definition and use of the entities themselves. Thus, it can be pointed to how Turner et al. (2001) states that:
“First, we must select an appropriate set of isovists (in fact an appropriate set of generating locations, according to some criterion) to form the vertices of the graph. Second, given a particular set of isovists, we must determine which relations between them are significant, or are of interest, to form edges in the graph.”
(p. 106)
This is the basis from which emerges the common practice for VGA to use an equidistant grid to generate vertexes which serves as points of origins for isovists, a practice that is chosen because it is considered to be a neutral distribution of origin vertexes.\(^3\) Compared to analyses such as Lu et al. (2009), Markheide and Koch (2007), or Benedikt (1979), this may be so on the level of distributing vertexes, but is it the same when it comes to what it does with the isovists? That is, when deployed in a grid – to what extent do isovists retain their role as descriptors of vision, and even more individual vision, and to what extent are they transformed?
First, it may be interesting to just briefly note that this, analysed through various syntactic measures commonly in the form of different kinds of integration, has been a successful predictor of certain types of behaviour such as movement in a wide range of objects (e.g. Rohlloff et al., 2009; Tzortzi, 2007; Choi, 1999; Peponis et al., 2004; Koch, 2005, 2009; compare: Lu et al, 2009; Heo et al, 2009). However, as with many other results within the fields these tend to be on the level of aggregate patterns rather than individual level (compare: Penn, 2003).
Second, it is of value to compare isovist results with those of other spatial entities in space syntax theory. At this point, I will therefore point to how both the convex space and the axial line in the ‘original’ definition had either social (collective) or geometrical definitions rather than cognitive. That is, rather than lines of vision and movement there was an emphasis on geometric abstraction (compare: Hillier & Hanson, 1984, p. 16-17). Furthermore, it is worth pointing to that in order to construct axial or convex maps, the entities are inherently dependent on their configurational role for their individual definition. Convex spaces are non-overlapping, and axial lines are fewest and longest. It is of vital importance for the axial line itself not that it is ‘a line of vision and movement’, but that it has a system property of representing the fewest but no less than the minimal amount of non-trivial rings in the system (compare: Turner et al., 2001, p. 105). Arguably this system definition of the line is more important than whether the axial line is in fact traversable or not. Furthermore, as Turner (2009) shows, at certain scales of analysis the axial line becomes more or less equitable with road-centre lines. While a specific interpretation of his findings, this seems to suggest that at certain scales network connectivity is more important than the specific perceptual qualities of the individual
\(^3\) Originally compared to either strategic locations or isovist fields as discussed by Benedikt (1979), where the former is a process of selecting the subset of possible isovists that capture the smallest set of isovists that cover ‘all’ points needed to describe the space – a process Benedikt himself acknowledges as providing ‘many possible solutions’.
network entities themselves. Comparing to Hillier (2003) it seems that the specific definition of the entity can be of changing importance depending on scale already at the level of individual places.
Interesting in this discussion is how several different correlations appear when using models of different ‘scales’ in libraries, one incorporating all furniture (compare: ‘kneesovists’, ‘permeability’), one incorporating everything blocking vision (compare: ‘eyesovists’, ‘visibility’) and one incorporating only the ‘building’ (walls, floors, et cetera) (Koch, 2004; 2005). Briefly described, the analysis showed correlation between movement and configuration in all scales. Perhaps more importantly, however, it turned out that when splitting out observations so as to test movement flows compared to the ‘highest level of abstraction’ (i.e. largest scale in which the gate where the flow was measured had a material counterpart), and only to this level, the highest correlations were found for all scales. The overall highest correlation compared movement flows to the building scale (‘basic scale’ in the paper).
While some definitions are unclear and conclusions remain to be developed, this shows that configurative analysis performed on a system of lines (or isovists) made from a spatial model which entities are not perceived directly (they can, at best, be deduced through process; compare: Turner, 2003) has high correlation with behaviour. If this is true, it follows that navigation is not necessarily tied to ‘directly perceivable’ entities, while still being related to material (reduced and simplified) configurations (compare: Zimring & Dalton, 2003). It further suggests that in navigation, space is continuously simplified as far possible (that is, the most reduced but still relevant version operates in navigation behaviour), and that rather than the measure, it is the model (i.e. the scale of objects taken into consideration) that may change between different kinds of behaviour. This corresponds well with Kuipers, Tecuci and Stankiewicz’s (2003) of navigation skeletons that change their level of detail and points of reference depending on purpose and situation, and that of Tversky (2003) discussing different scales of cognitive space including ‘navigational space’. To a certain extent it further corresponds to the foreground/background network as discussed by Hillier (2010) in that the foreground network could be seen as its own ‘model’ in which navigation could take place regardless of the background network.
Figure 3: The ‘scales’ used in the libraries, drawing axial lines based on all furniture (‘detailed spatial scale’), visibility (‘average spatial scale’) and architectural elements (‘basic spatial scale’). The lines are drawn strictly as spatio-geometrical connectivity descriptors. Note that half of the library is not in the illustration, and that there are lines connecting floors reaching outside the floor plan. (From: Koch, 2005, p. 374).
Also important is that the construction of the axial map in itself is performed in a strictly geometric-configurative manner [see Figure 2], emphasizing the spatial configurative connectivity rather than cognitive units. This provided better correlation than one that modelled after the entity understood as perceptual-behavioural unit (i.e. one that models ‘reasonable’ or ‘possible’ walking paths). This is comparable to findings from urban analysis in that it is environments where modelling can follow clear geometric spatial boundaries such as traditional cities that tend to provide higher correlations. Comparatively, environments where modelling depends more on interpretation of perceptual boundaries tend to provide weaker correlations. It should be recognized that the parallel made here is a parallel; there is no consistent evidence that the problem is in the modelling – but, there is not yet any thorough and consistent testing of different modelling principles in areas offering weak correlations. In a sense, common practice seems to assume that what is modelled is movement, whereas there is little obvious reason that the connection between axial integration and movement would be that the axial line is a movement unit. That is, the link between space and movement can just as well be because we navigate spatial connectivity as that the spatial model is constructed through units somehow intrinsic to movement ‘in itself’ (compare: Zimring & Dalton, 2003, p. 9).
This offers a possible explanation as to why VGA often works better in interior spaces: the ruthless grid implementation of isovists in VGA does exactly the same as a ruthless spatio-geometrical deployment of axial lines does in cities or in the studied libraries – it removes the consideration of where you ‘would’ walk from the model and subscribes this interpretation of ‘would’ entirely to the analysis. Continuing this line of argument, it can be claimed that it is the de-subjectification through deployment of multiple isovists in an equi-distant grid rather than any inherent subject-experiential quality of the isovist itself that provides the correlation between walking and integration in VGA analysis. I argue this is so for a large range of (but not all) cases, and that it is supported by research into spatial cognition as, for instance Tversky (2003) describes that:
“One remarkable feat of the human mind is to conceive of some large spaces as integrated wholes rather than piecemeal as they are experienced. Similar to the space around the body, the space of navigation is a mental construction that is schematized. Certain information, such as exact metric information, is systematically simplified and even distorted.” (p. 72)
That is to suggest that the main operation of isovist (VGA) and axial analysis is capturing the systematic simplifications and distortions of space, which can adapt to different scales of action by adjusting the model used for the analysis. The important question for these models then becomes what it is they capture, rather than if the entities have a perceptual counterpart such as ‘eyesovists’ or ‘kneesovists’. Tversky continues by describing how spatial relations in the ‘space of navigation’ are relative to reference frames which by no means have to be the location of the navigating individual – or rather, that it is not (people move, not the world). Thus the aim for a spatial description that captures movement conceptually and theoretically does not have to be tied to situated experience or direct perception. In fact, some syntax results, as noted here, speak against it.
---
4 For instance when moving into suburbs modelling tend to shift from spatial-geometric definitions of lines towards behavioural-perceptual definitions (e.g. following walking paths), in effect emphasizing the ‘perceived’ unit over the network description and simultaneously lowering the degree of correlation to movement. Compare e.g. Ståhle’s, Marcus’ and Karlström’s (2005) or Klasander’s (2001) modeling of suburban environments, which here can be used not to point fingers but because they make use of common modeling practice in the field.
5 The superiority of the axial model over the isovist model reported in the libraries can be questioned – the isovist model offers a wider and more detailed range of correlation points and thus is not subject to a max-max procedure such as the one used for axial model, and different models (axial and VGA) in the paper treat elevation differences differently. Indeed, implementing the same way of describing elevation differences on the isovist model as on the axial model raises correlation for the former (see e.g. Koch, 2009).
So, is this to contradict findings such as working with very local perceptual properties measured via isovists (compare: Rohloff et al., 2009; Tzortzi, 2007; 2009; Heo et al., 2009; Lu et al., 2009)? I would argue it is not. It can also be pointed out that while consistent on the larger scale, the correlations on the finer scale found in the libraries were not found in for instance department stores (Koch, 2009; also Penn, 2005), which seems to indicate that even though larger scale skeletons seem to be generally relevant, on a smaller scale other spatial properties or influences can have greater impact. In line with Tversky’s overall argument, it indicates that cognitive skeletons with their reductions start to take precedence when movement turns towards more global. This is furthermore consistent with findings in office studies where global scale analysis have shown correlations between movement and integration, but more local flows or other forms of activity deviate and correspond better to other measurements (e.g. Sailer, 2007; Steen & Markhede, 2010). The model used to analyse this skeleton, then, would not need to be built on perceptually explicit elements, but rather capture connectivity in reduced cognitive spatial models even if it leads to the use of analytic entities never ‘actually’ perceived.
For this to be feasible it must be recognised that the systemic implementation in itself is a transformative operation performed on the entity, that makes its possibility to define as individual unit unimportant or even problematic. That is, there is a transformation of what the isovist represents from showing local perceptual properties to capturing global systemic connectivity. It may even be that these roles of the isovists are fundamentally irreconcileable but valid at the same time. What this points to, is that similarly to how the entity of the ‘isovist’ can be questioned as representation of ‘what is seen from a point’ through internal examination, it can be questioned as such from a systemic point of view.
THE LOGIC OF THE MANNEQUIN: ALLOCENTRIC SUBJECTIVITY
The two discussions above serve to elaborate on space as allocentric and systemic, partly as a result of the interconnection between these concepts. It is from this argument, spatial analysis where analytic entities are de-coupled from individuals or people, that certain knowledge from the cognitive field can be tied to space syntax research. It also shows how analysis is not dependent on units as perceived ‘in themselves’ (or representing direct perception). This theoretically and operationally situates the analysis so that there is more freedom in how to construct the analytic models, and through this it is possible to raise other questions. In order to discuss this we may return once more to situated experience but in a different sense, via what Vanessa Osborne has termed ‘the logic of the mannequin’:
“The logic of the mannequin proposes that shop windows contribute to a tendency to imbue material objects with a capacity to embody individual identity by creating scenarios that invest a wax mannequin with a narrative produced explicitly by its context by, the clothing it wears, and the products that surround it.
This marketing practice constructs a new body promoting viewers to narrativize and subsequently desire or identify with the interchangeable and inanimate yet idealized bodies of mannequins surrounded by appealing commodities in the window’s scenarios.” (Osborne, 2008, p. 187; my emphasis)
Part of the logic of the mannequin is thus identification with the inanimate wax doll, both in an ideological/identity sense and in a situated, bodily sense. That is, the role of the mannequin is to make us imagine ourselves in its place wearing its clothes. A logic that connects its purpose with that of the dressing room (Iarocci, 2008) as well as that of the specifically situated experience of shopping (Chua, 1992). This is, it should be noted, not to claim a mysterious or magical ‘out of body’ perception but a simple act of imaginary cognition similar to how in reading we often quite literally imagine ourselves ‘elsewhere’ (Verschaffel, 2010),
and are able to perceive the environment in which a narrative takes place (compare: Ricoeur, 1981). Thus the ‘logic of the mannequin’ is not a unique process inherent in the mannequin, but rather the ‘logic of the mannequin’ is a specific case of a ‘potential imaginary elsewhere’ that is actualized through the mannequin in that it (a) offers a specific ‘elsewhere’ to be inhabited defined by a de-subjectified body as focal point which (b) encourages this cognitive relocation and identification specifically by this body being in-between identity and non-identity that requests, albeit indirectly, completion. That is, by a certain degree of abstraction. It can thus be argued that it specifically makes use of our capacity to ‘see ourselves in others’ by demanding the ‘other’ to be constructed by means of taking its place.
The parallel to reading supports such a claim, in that the ‘elsewhere’ in reading always is given more detail than what information we have have been provided with, and that we when lacking information ‘complete’ the picture best possible from logical deduction (Ricoeur, 1981). In the case of the mannequin this becomes quite clear if we compare three placings of mannequins as in Figure 4 (or in plan in Figure 5) and the extent to which they relate e.g. to visitors, to each other, and to a wider spatial context. The processes of identifying with these mannequins partially entails establishing a sense of the situated practice of dressing in which it belongs (Entwistle, 2000), and for this the 360° setting captured by an isovist contains important cues for the identity of the fashion on display. This means that where information is lacking, perceptual cues of this missing content will be integrated in our understanding prior to actual knowledge hereof. However, this still resides within a discussion of individual isovist analysis, whereas objects are not singular and their identity depends on how they relate to other objects both conceptually and spatially (compare: Baudrillard, 1996), something that is true especially for fashion, which is a constant play of system identities used to formulate fashion identities through situated dressing practice (compare: Entwistle, 2000; Barthes, 2006).
Figure 4: Mannequins are placed in different situations as in how they relate to space, each other, and the visitor. (compare: Stavroulaki & Peponis, 2003). Photographs by the author.
Figure 5: Two ends of a department store, plans made grey to better show the mannequins (dark grey) and their facing.
To further understand this we can turn to the investigation of Gianna Stavroulaki and John Peponis (2003) of the placing of statues in Castelvecchio, showing how their facing construct a narrative by connecting statues to one another directly or through the visiting subject [Figure 6]. If we, however, consider these ‘inanimate gazes’ to also be opportunities for identification with, and taking the place of, the statues, the narrative can be argued to not only come from their ‘exosomatic’ or ‘external’, objectified, structural narrative, but through our allocentric capacity to ‘take their place’ to experience their relations to one another through one another (compare: Desanti, 2000). Furthermore, in addition to where they are looking, allocentric understanding of spatial experience suggest that how they are looked at by other statues also becomes an integral part of the identity of each individual statue, which in the case of Castelvecchio is also capitalized on. This can be compared to the mannequins and the various directions from which they are or can be seen, and are looked at by other mannequins [figure 5]. A density of mannequins thus does not only work directly through representation of the importance of body and body shape (see Koch, 2007; 2012), but also indirectly through the extended production of gazes and exposure as the mannequins ‘look’ at each other, similar to the statues in Castelvecchio. A presence of the ‘Other’ as collective is generated through indirect and imprecise representation, where ‘I’ can be any of these bodies.
Figure 6: The spatial construction of seeing at Castelvecchio, figure from Stavroulaki & Peponis (2003, p. 66.4). The topmost shows the ‘viewsheds’ of the statues, and the bottommost shows the intersection of gazes where a visitor would ‘complete’ a potential set of viewing connections with the statues.
So far individual relations built into narratives of one to the other. Continuing on this argument it can be pointed to how Stavroulaki and Peponis discuss what in effect is the same as what Turner and Penn (1999) call ‘second order’ relations – how the viewer can become the connector of the gaze of two statues. In this way relations are extended beyond direct gazes. Such argument, even if important, stops at second order relations, however. The question emerges how we can understand relations of third, fourth, fifth (and so on) orders. To begin unpacking this it is worth returning to Ricoeur’s statement that “[t]he art of narration, as well as the corresponding art of following a story, therefore require that we are able to extract a configuration from a succession” (1981, p. 268); that is, we can piece together both story chronology and story connections from a sequential narrative that may play with both for dramatic effect. Similarly, it can be claimed that the systemic/syntactic relationships between mannequins can be extracted from the sequence in which they are perceived. The understanding of the narrative of Castelvecchio, or of the identity of the dress fashions which the mannequins wear, is then only partly dependent on the sequence in which they are encountered, and only partly on how they are individually situated, as their configurative position in the system (as far as it known) plays a part as well regardless of sequence of encounter (regarding sequence and expectation, compare: Kaye, 2000). Consequently, for the process of fashion presentation and interpretation through mannequins, the question is not only how these mannequins offer individual possibilities of identification, but also how they construct systems of positions in space, and how they in this process are dependent on not only direct context and the spatial configuration, but also on their position relative the viewer, other viewers and other mannequins.
In this way, consumption space offers a description of both sides of fashion semiology (Barthes, 2006; Entwistle, 2000) in that it plays with both system and singular bodies. More importantly it can be claimed that a systemic analysis of mannequin placement is the only way to understand their identity description fully, even as situated bodily practice. At this point it becomes clear how an analysis of ‘visual clustering’ of mannequins [Figure 7] can be theoretically and conceptually argued for as fundamental for their commercial function even on clustering levels above the first and secondorder, although which clustering measurement that is most descriptive remains to be investigated. The way it is done in the figures here is by angular deviation in the closest spatial connection (i.e. angular distance). This is an extension of varying sorts of analysis of spatial category construction (e.g. Koch, 2007; 2009; Zamani & Peponis, 2007; Tzorti, 2011) in that it adds relations of several orders (here interpreted as increasing angular distance).
This can also be studied as the clusters formed at a specific level of clustering, as in [Figure 8]. In this figure, the cluster connections are represented as their angular connections through space. This illustrates how clear clusters emerge at certain levels, and how these are of different size and including differently many mannequins. In a pair of cases, these clusters appear differently than a simple hand-drawn deduction would suggest which is because of the analytic process of clustering by average position. However, there are logical, spatial-contextual arguments for this sort of clustering as we are speaking not of simple direct connections but of contextual formulations.
---
6 The measurement is further by ‘average position’, which means that it connects the average position of each lower-level cluster to make clusters on a higher level; the software also allows for closest or furthest position analysis, as well as metric, which give at times radically different pictures. It is thus important to note that the figures are to illustrate the concept. The selected measure can be claimed they capture something that is informative for how it is experienced on-site, but full empirical studies remain to be made.
Figure 7. Clustering of Mannequins in Åhlens City 2005 on the Men’s fashion floor (top) and Women’s fashion floor (bottom). The clustering is built on angular distance, and the clustering process uses ‘average position’, that is, for every higher level of category the average position of the mannequins in the lower level category is used to find the next mannequin to include in the category. The analysis is made in SPOT 19, developed by KTH & AEDAS R&D, programmed by Pablo Miranda Carranza and Åsmund Gamlesæter (see Markhede, Miranda & Koch, 2010).
Extending this argument it can be seen how analysis of spatial relations between objects is not dependent on direct perception of the analytic entities (isovists, axial lines, convex spaces) or on that they represent perceptual position, but that they can capture what may be registered and remembered (and hereby ‘perceived’) through their syntactic relations independently of the location of the perceiving ‘ego’ (compare: Ricoeur, 1981; Tversky, 2003; Hillier & Iida, 2005). Such an argument is also made by Stavroulaki and Peponis. Followingly, any object can be used as origin of isovists, in relation to any object and/or space. The argument here is that this allocentric syntactic description is as valid as any description that has to do with ‘seeing’ directly, or with situated experience.
However, we can take this one step further by suggesting than rather than specific clusters, it is the clustering density that is important. That is, not only third or further order of relations between mannequins, but spatial positions in relation to these clustering relations. A way to show this is as in [Figure 9], where all closest angular paths between mannequins are included, providing a figure of the distribution of density of relations of co-belonging in clusters. To a certain extent, this can be claimed to describe the degree to which various parts of the space is included in an indirect density of mannequins, and also to what
extent it is in a complex or simple relation to them – which in itself is highly informative. If we are speaking on the relation to body and Other represented in consumption space, these densities and complexities make a suggestion on the configuration of these relations and the positions in this configuration not only directly but in a larger scale system.
**Figure 8.** The specific clustering studied as halfway between no clusters (clustering degree 0) and all clusters (clustering degree 1) of the floors in figure 7. The grey line running through the dendogram indicates the level at which the clustering is cut off. The analysis is made in SPOT 19, developed by KTH & AEDAS R&D, programmed by Pablo Miranda Carranza and Åsmund Gamlesæter (see Markhede, Miranda & Koch, 2010).
Figure 9. All shortest path lines between the mannequins of the floors presented in Figure 7. Clear differences in density as well as position and complexity of positions can be seen both between the floors and within the floors. The analysis is made in SPOT 19, developed by KTH & AEDAS R&D, programmed by Pablo Miranda Carranza and Åsmund Gamlesæter (see Markhede, Miranda & Koch, 2010).
Of note here is that rather than the mannequin in itself being in focus, it is rather used as a rhetoric vehicle since, first, it is a deliberate act to produce ‘re-embodied’ perception, and, second, it is easy to move in two direction from it: ‘mannequin’ is possible to understand both as the inanimate object and as living mannequins. As an inanimate object it can potentially be extrapolated into other inanimate objects, via various stages of bodily implications (e.g. seats, compare: Baudrillard, 1996), to any object, further into any spatial location (similar to Hillier’s argument of our capacity to experience, without being there, how it would be to be in the centre of a group of people). This then covers the analysis of Stavroulaki and Peponis (2003) analysing statues (bodies-as-objects) and Koch (2009) analysing objects in consumption space, and extends into general VGA analysis. As a living mannequins it can be further extended into any Other, which can be said to be the operation performed by Markhede (2010). It can be argued that the inanimate mannequins play on this very intermediary position possible to extend in all directions: they can be, and are, objects, another, the Other, and ‘me’.
At this point, somewhat ironically, we can note that it may well be in the fact that the isovist is 360° that it in certain situations can be claimed to represent situated (or re-situated) experience rather than in that it somehow constitutes a field of vision or direct perception, and that this is because of allocentric spatial cognition rather than egocentric perceptual qualities. The discussion here, however, is more focused on the
capacity to analyse spatial relations of objects through VGA or other syntactic or systemic isovist analysis ignoring whether these are relations ‘of visibility’ or not (or more specifically: relations of where someone can be and see the other point(s) of analysis). It provides, however, also a deeper understanding of the logic of the mannequin as we can at this point turn the argument from being about the isovist as a consequence of the logic of the mannequin, to explaining the logic of the mannequin as a result of the understanding of the isovist. That is, the mannequin works through its capacity as an abstracted representation which is deployed contextually and syntactically to give not only individual description but a situated description that thrives on space as syntactic and allocentric through this very abstraction. The mannequins are, in a certain sense, concretisations of abstractions of concrete situated bodily practices. Operations that are transformative in themselves, but also invite interpretations of allocentric, syntactic character (i.e. an understanding of oneself in the place of the mannequin, as situated both in its direct local context and larger syntactic position). It plays with the duality of seeing-being seen deliberately to further enhance this contextual syntactic definition within which it acts.
CONCLUSION
To conclude this discussion it is time to return to the effects of abstraction which is part of all syntactic analysis. Remaining with the isovist, it can be reiterated that it is an abstraction and therefore, as Châtelet (2000) argues, inherently a transformation and deformation. While originating from ‘field of vision’ it is transformed into something else by the operation through which it is constructed, and more importantly, this is irreversible. That is, while extracted from ‘field of vision’, it neither is nor represents the same, in that it cannot be re-concretised into vision without significant additional interpretation. Rather than opposing this transformation, or seeing it as problematic, however, it is something that can be taken as part of the analysis itself. What we can see is that beginning with ‘vision’, abstracted in several steps from cones to volumes to slices and fields to isovists multiplied into grids and systems, moving back to concretion can take us another way and end up in a perfectly valid description that is more or less independent of the origin of the initial abstraction. The problem then becomes to elucidate how this transformation operates, which is what this paper has discussed in different iterations. Furthermore, the systemisation of elements into VGA analysis unearths properties that exist only on the system level, and thus are not necessarily explainable via the individual entity (‘field of vision’ or not). Something that is expressed in the Social Logic of Space as that “[s]aying that global form arise from individual behaviour is not the same as saying it is reducible to individual behaviour.” (Hillier & Hanson, 1984)
If we call this attempt to capture another view of what the isovist ‘is’ both in itself and in syntactic analysis a re-concretisation, then this re-concretisation is also a processes of transformation that although leading the end-result to a different place than the initial, may well be informative. It can be argued that the vehicle through which such re-concretisation can be made, is a treatment of the isovist ‘as such’ through its formal definition as geometric object, such as there is, in Benedikt’s (1979) paper, a stringent definition of isovists: “This enables one to reword definition (1) of Vx as the set of line segments joining the vantage point x to points v’ on the boundary surfaces δVx − Rx .” (p. 52)
Deploying this geometric abstraction of space into an abstraction of spatial configuration such as in VGA, it is conceptually easier to experiment with analysis of spaces with what is commonly referred to as higher or lower ‘resolution’ as the insistence on ‘visibility’ is let go of. Analysis can then be performed on resolutions unrelated, or at least only vaguely related, to vision (compare: Koch, 2005). Rather than increased resolution
leading to better precision, it may be that decreased resolution, contrary to what may be expected, increases precision. It is a geometric abstraction that captures connectivity on a level on which the analysed problem operates, which for some but not all cases corresponds to perceptual entities. This furthermore allows for better understanding of emergent patterns that are difficult or impossible to reduce to individual behaviour or direct cognition. If syntactic integration arise from axial lines or isovists as cognitive elements, this does not mean it is reducible to lines of seeing and going or fields of vision.
With this said, it is important to note here is that in many cases, the definition/interpretation of isovists as tied to experiencing subjects and their vision is entirely valid, and such analysis can shed light on perceptual-behavioural questions investigated. The point is not to disqualify these propositions, which greatly contribute to our understanding of relation between space, perception, and behaviour, but that there are other aspects of spatial cognition – or at least of space – that do not follow this very direct and concrete understanding, and that if we allow ourselves only to read the isovist as the former, then potential knowledge risk passing us by. From this perspective it seems of importance to bring these strands together into a more comprehensive discussion on what form of spatial representations the field is working with, and in such a discussion the isovist turns out to be the most suitable example as it best illustrates relations between concrete geometry, situated experience, abstraction, systemization, and the transformations that are an inherent part of abstraction or diagrammatisation that makes the representation other than the initially represented (Chatelet, 2010). One point of the paper is an investigation into how taking the representation (axial line, convex space, isovist) at face value as what it is ‘on paper’ rather than through what it may or originally was meant to represent, to see what this may lead to – i. e. using the representation itself as vehicle for analysis and research in similar ways as was done already in the Social Logic of Space. The main point, however, is how the extended reasoning from such an approach enables a discussion such as the one regarding the logic of the mannequin above, as it is questionable whether any explanation of foundation based on vision will provide a reasonable theoretical framework for it, whereas other understandings can.
The purpose, and conclusion, is thus to conceptually open up a wider field of syntactic analysis and point to fields of exploration. Some of this is already done, as noted, with various expansions into theoretical implications, whereas other remains to be investigated. This includes analyses of scales or of systems that are at current little explored, and which deserve further attention, as well as continuous efforts in remodelling and revising architecture in order to elucidate if there are consistent relevant scales, and if so which they are. Finally, it has been discussed how syntactic relations between objects and positions through space can be conceptualized beyond first and second order relations, and how this is more reasonably explained letting go of direct perceptual description in favour of a system-cognitive interpretative understanding.
AKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The SPOT 19 software was developed in collaboration between the Aedas R&D and the KTH School of Architecture.
REFERENCES
Hillier, B. (2003). The architectures of seeing and going: Or, are cities shaped by bodies or minds? And is there a syntax of spatial cognition? In J. Hanson (ed.), Proceedings to the 4th International Space Syntax Symposium (pp. 6.1-6.6.34). London: Space Syntax Laboratory.
Hillier, B. (2010). What do We Need to Add to a Social Network to Get a Society? Answer: Something Like What You Have to Add to a Spatial Network to Get a City. Journal of Space Syntax, 1(1), 41-58.
|
Article
Le Corbusier’s Ineffable Space and Synchronism: From Architecture as Clear Syntax to Architecture as Succession of Events
Marianna Charitonidou 1,2,3 ©
1 Department of Architecture, Institute for the History and Theory of Architecture (gta), ETH Zurich, Stefano-Franscini-Platz 5, CH 8093 Zürich, Switzerland; mchariton@ethz.ch
2 School of Architecture, National Technical University of Athens, 42 Patission Street, 106 82 Athens, Greece
3 Faculty of Art History and Theory, Athens School of Fine Arts, 42 Patission Street, 106 82 Athens, Greece
Abstract: This article examines Le Corbusier’s architectural design processes, paying special attention to his concept of “ineffable space”. Le Corbusier related “ineffable space” to mathematics, arguing that both mathematics and the phenomenon of “ineffable space” provoke an effect of “concordance”. He also argued that when the establishment of relations is “precise” and “overwhelming”, architectural artefacts are capable of “provoking physiological sensations”. For Le Corbusier, the sentiment of satisfaction and enjoyment that an architectural artefact can provoke is related to a perception of harmony. This article analyzes the reasons for which Le Corbusier insisted on the necessity to discover or invent “clear syntax” through architectural composition. He believed that the power of architectural artefacts lies in their “clear syntax”. Particular emphasis is placed on the relationship of Le Corbusier’s theories of space with those of Henri Bergson and the De Stijl movement. At the core of the reflections that are developed here are Le Corbusier’s “patient search” (“recherche patiente”) and the vital role of the act of drawing for the process of inscribing images in memory. For Le Corbusier, drawing embodied the acts of observing, discovering, inventing and creating. This article also relates Le Corbusier’s interest in proportions and his conception of the Modulor to post-war Italian neo-humanistic approaches in architecture. It intends to render explicit how Le Corbusier’s definition of architecture was reshaped, shedding light on the shift from defining architecture as clear syntax to defining architecture as the succession of events.
Keywords: Le Corbusier; ineffable space; concordance; Modulor; emotions; sensations; synchronism; neo-humanist discourse; patient search; succession of events; promenade architecturale; clear syntax; Henri Bergson; De Stijl movement; sketches; Cubism; Purism
1. Introduction
Le Corbusier drew a distinction between physicality and mentality in the architectural design process. He believed that there is a difference between expressing or manifesting the notion of space in a mental way and expressing or manifesting the notion of space in a physical way. The aforementioned distinction is related to the distinction between the real and the fictive dimension of architectural practice. Le Corbusier related the good establishment of relationships between the different components of an architectural artefact to the intensity of emotions. Le Corbusier conceived of architecture as the succession of events and believed that events take place through the creation of precise relations. He believed that an important criterion for evaluating an architectural result is the degree to which the forms are exciting, that is to say capable of provoking emotions. In 1925, in “L’Esprit Nouveau en Architecture”, he remarked: “It is therefore necessary to create from all the pieces in the architectural work the essential determinant of emotion, that is to say the exciting forms that constitute it” (Le Corbusier 1925b). He maintained that forms
should “animate” the architectural work, introducing “appreciable” relationships capable of provoking the sensations (Le Corbusier 1925b).
Le Corbusier placed particular emphasis on the process of concretization of mental images through hand drawing. This explains why he used sketches as dynamic parts of his design process and not simply as a medium for recording complete mental images (Charitonidou 2018). The way in which he used sketches and visual representation at every stage of the design process shows that he conceived mental images as an architectural design tool. Le Corbusier paid special attention to the role of mental images during the process of crystallization of design ideas. This becomes evident when he refers to the “spontaneous birth . . . of the whole project, all at once and all of sudden” (Le Corbusier 1960a, 1960b, 2015a; Allen Brooks 1987a, p. 130; 1987b; Temple 2018). In the sixteenth century, Vasari, echoing a Vitruvian view of drawing as a vehicle for speculative thought, wrote: “We may conclude that design is not other than the design of a visible expression and declaration of an inner conception” (Vasari 1907). The activity of translating a spatial idea into reality was also at the core of August Schmarsow’s approach, in “The essence of architectural creation”, where he remarks that the “attempts to translate a spatial idea into reality further demonstrate the organization of the human intellect” (Schmarsow 1894, 1994).
Horst Bredekamp, in Image Acts: A Systematic Approach to Visual Agency, draws an interesting distinction between “the desire to understand architecture in an image and the desire to understand it as an image” (Bredekamp 2010, 2015, 2017, p. 238). Borrowing this distinction from Bredekamp, we could claim that Le Corbusier, during the process of drawing, understood architecture in an image. Bredekamp underscores that central perspective, because of its attachment to one point of view, does not favor the interplay between architecture and bodily movement. This seems contradictory to the insistence of Le Corbusier on the use of interior perspective views in order to communicate his concept of “architectural promenade” (“promenade architecturale”). Le Corbusier declares, in Creation is a Patient Search: “To draw oneself, to trace the lines, handle the volumes, organize the surface... all this means first to look, and then to observe and finally perhaps to discover... and it is then that inspiration may come” (Le Corbusier 1960b, p. 37; 2015b). Le Corbusier distinguishes the act of looking and the act of observing. He understands the invention that accompanies the architectural design process as organized according to the following steps: firstly, one looks, then they observe and, finally, they discover. For Le Corbusier, the practice of drawing is the procedure that permits the passage from one step of the process to another. Characteristically, he declared in his Sketchbooks: “Don’t take photographs, draw; photography interferes with seeing, drawing etches into the mind” (Le Corbusier 1981, p. 12; Taussig 2011) (Figures 1–5).
Figure 1. Le Corbusier, two pages from the carnet de voyage de Charles-Édouard Jeanneret in Rome in 1911. In these sketched of Le corbusier, we can see Saint-Pierre et le Belvédère seen from the Villa Médicis. Credits: Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris.
Figure 4. Le Corbusier, sketch of Dome in Florence, 1911, Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris, FLC 2492.
Figure 5. Carnets de Le Corbusier. Credits: Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris.
2. Around the Capacity of Architectural Forms to Provoke Sensations
Le Corbusier in “L’Esprit Nouveau en Architecture”, published in 1925 in *Almanach d’Architecture Moderne*, included four photos of the Maison La Roche-Jeanneret. These photos are useful for understanding how he related the quality of architectural forms to their capacity to provoke sensations. It would be thought-provoking to relate Le Corbusier’s conception of the relationship between forms and the provocation of intense emotions to Henri Bergson’s approach. More specifically, Le Corbusier’s understanding of how architecture can provoke intense emotions brings to mind Bergson’s endeavor to relate “aesthetic emotions” to “degrees of intensity” and “degrees of elevation”. Bergson, in *Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness*, examines “aesthetic emotions”, placing particular emphasis on the fact that they are characterized by different “degrees of intensity” and different “degrees of elevation” (Bergson 1889, 2001). Bergson also argues, in the aforementioned book, that “the merit of a work of art is not measured so much by the power with which the suggested feeling takes hold of us as by the richness of this feeling itself” (Bergson 1889, 2001). It would be insightful to relate this thesis of Bergson to Le Corbusier’s interest relating architectural components to their capacity to provoke intense emotions.
Bergson, trying to relate the way a work of art is perceived and the intensity of emotions it provokes, remarked that “besides degrees of intensity we instinctively distinguish degrees of depth or elevation”. He claimed that “the feelings and thoughts which the artist suggests to us express and sum up a more or less considerable part of his history” (Bergson 1889, 2001). Departing from the aforementioned claim of Bergson, we could hypothesize that Le Corbusier shared the conviction that the feelings and thoughts expressed through the creation of an architectural artefact transmit to the inhabitant a part of the architect’s own history. According to Bergson, the sensations provoked due to the encounter with a work of art push the spectators to “re-live the life of the subject who [created the work of art in order to] [ ... ] grasp it in its original complexity” (Bergson 1889, 2001).
Le Corbusier intended to provoke in the perception of the viewers and inhabitants of his architectural artefacts the curiosity search to live their life in its complexity. Bergson believed that artists intend to give the spectators or their artworks “a share in this emotion, so rich, so personal, so novel, and at enabling us to experience what he cannot make us understand” (Bergson 1889, 2001). We could relate this point of view of Bergson regarding the capacity of art to transmit the content of the creator’s emotions, which cannot be grasped otherwise, to the spectators, to the notion of the “ineffable space” (“espace indicible”) in Le Corbusier’s thought.
3. Le Corbusier’s Conception of Patient Search: Drawing as Pushing Inside
Le Corbusier’s conception of “patient search” (“recherche patiente”), in *Creation is a Patient Search*, is based on the idea that ideas are placed “in the interior of memory” (Le Corbusier 1960b, 2015a; Pérez Gómez and Pelletier 1997), waiting until their form is concretized. He conceived representation as described in the following metaphoric formulation regarding architecture’s poetics: “one draws in order to push inside, in one’s own history, the things seen” (Le Corbusier cited in von Moos 2009, p. 294). This conception of the connection between perception, memory and representation brings to mind Henri Bergson’s approach. Bergson, in *An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness*, argues that “art is about inscribing feelings in us rather than expressing them”. He distinguished different “phases in the progress of an aesthetic feeling” (Bergson 2001) and different degrees of intensity and elevation of the aesthetic emotion. Le Corbusier’s sketches can be found in three kinds of sources: his “Cahiers de croquis”, the “Albums Nivola” and his “Cahiers de dessins”. The way he conceived the process of accumulation of manual and intellectual activities is expressed insightfully in “Albums Nivola”:
---
*Arts 2022, 11, 48*
I live in an archipelago. My sea is thirty years of accumulation, variously related to intellectual and manual activities. On the ground, here and there, are groups of objects, gear, books, texts, drawings, such are my islands!
The metaphors Le Corbusier uses in the aforementioned passage, describing himself as an archipelago and his creations as islands, are indicative of how he conceived the relationship between the manual and intellectual procedures, and the interaction between the different forms of expression. Le Corbusier was particularly interested in the inscription of the products of human activity in consciousness. He paid special attention to the role that time plays in this process of inscription. Bergson’s understanding of art’s process of its relation to aesthetic emotion is very close to Le Corbusier’s concept of “patient search” (“recherche patiente”). In *Creation is a Patient Search*, Le Corbusier refers to the process of learning “to see things come to life” (Le Corbusier 1960b, 2015a), placing particular emphasis on the metamorphosis during the design process. He wrote: “We learn to see things come to life. We see them develop, undergo metamorphosis, flower, flourish, die, etc.” (Le Corbusier 1960b, 2015a). The way Le Corbusier described the relationship between the process of drawing and the process of inscribing images in memory shows how vital the act of drawing was for him. This becomes particularly evident in his following words: “Once things come in through the pencil work, they stay in for life; they are written, they are inscribed” (Le Corbusier 1960a, 1960b, 2015a).
Le Corbusier understood the act of drawing as an act of conquest. He believed that “[w]hen one travels and works with visual things—architecture, painting or sculpture—one uses mind’s eyes and draws, so as to fix down in one’s experience what is seen” (Le Corbusier 1960a, 1960b, 2015a, p. 37). He also claimed that when one draws by hand, the tracing of their lines functions as an active participant, helping them to connect their mental images to their materialization in a more immediate way. According to Le Corbusier, the architect’s own line functions as the means of inventing links between mental images and their formal expression. David Rosand, commenting on the use of the draughtsman’s own line, notes that the “line [. . .] is an active participant in the act of drawing and asserts its own creative independence” (Rosand 2013, p. 210). As Elga Freiberga notes, in “Memory and Creativity of Ontopoiesis”, “Bergson never strictly detaches perception from imagination, nor perception from memory” (Freiberga 2009, p. 239). In Bergson’s thought, “[p]erception of images is also imagination of images just like memory is “imaginative” because it is coordination of imagination and memory” (Freiberga 2009, p. 239).
In *Matter and Memory*, Bergson underscores that “to picture is not to remember” (Bergson 1939, 2004). He is interested in how memory inserts into perception. For Bergson, the difference between perception and memory is of intensity but not of nature. This remark is useful for examining Le Corbusier’s conception of the relationship between perception and memory, in *Creation as Patient Research* (Le Corbusier 1960a, 1960b, 2015a). For Bergson, there is no distinction between “matter-images”, “perception-images” and “memory-images”. His attempt to define both consciousness and the material world as “images” is related to his intention to deal with the subject/object opposition (Bergson 1939, 2004). Le Corbusier argued that “drawing is a language, a science, a means of expression, a means of transmitting thought” (Petit and Le Corbusier 1968). He believed that “drawing makes it possible to fully transmit the thought without any written or verbal explanations” (Le Corbusier cited in Pauly 2006; Petit and Le Corbusier 1968), understanding drawing as the “[i]mpartial witness and engine of the works of the creator” (Le Corbusier cited in Pauly 2006; Petit and Le Corbusier 1968). Le Corbusier conceived drawing as the most efficient way of transmitting one’s thought. His understanding of the creative process as a “patient search” (“recherche patiente”) was based on the idea of a process of concretization through the conservation in the interior memory and a patient and progressive development.
The passion of Le Corbusier for manual labor and his “enduring fascination with the hand” (Le Corbusier 1997, p. 10) are important parameters for understanding his design process. To describe the process of hand drawing, he mentioned that, through drawing, we
enter the place of an unknown and we have a valid exchange with plenty of consequences, which is symptomatic of the role he attributed to the act of drawing within the procedure of capturing and concretizing his ideas. For Le Corbusier, drawing embodied the acts of observing, discovering, inventing and creating. In “L’Esprit Nouveau en Architecture”, Le Corbusier refers to the notion of gesture, relating it to Paul Valéry’s analysis of the first gesture, in *Eupalinos ou L’architecte* (Valéry 1923), which was included in Le Corbusier’s personal library. Le Corbusier, departing from Valéry’s interpretation of the first gesture in architectural composition, tried to explain what it meant for him. The text “L’Esprit Nouveau en Architecture” was presented at a conference that he gave on 12 June 1924 at the Sorbonne in Paris and on 10 November 1924 at the Ordre de l’Étoile d’Orient. He insisted on the fact that in the first gesture, a will is embodied. He notes: “For me, who is not a philosopher, who is simply an active being, it seems [...] that this first gesture cannot be vague, that at the very birth, at the moment when the eyes open to the light, immediately arises a will” (Le Corbusier 1925b, p. 27). Le Corbusier paid special attention to the notion of gesture until late in his life, as can be seen in the manuscript of *L’atelier de la Recherche Patiente*, where he employed the metaphor of the “gesture of the acrobat”
Le Corbusier’s interest in the initiative gesture of the design process could be related to Mies’s attraction to form as a starting point and not as a result. In the second issue of *G: Material zur elementaren Gestaltung* (G: Material for Elementary Construction) (Mertins and Jennings 2010), published in September 1923, Mies remarks, in “Bauen”:
> We refuse to recognize problems of form but only problems of building.
> Form is not the aim of our work, but only the result.
> Form, by itself, does not exist.
> Form as an aim is formalism, and that we reject . . .
> Essentially our task is to free the practice of building from the control of aesthetic speculators and restore it to what it should exclusively be: Building.
> (van der Rohe 1923, p. 1)
In the aforementioned passage, Mies van der Rohe underscores that “[f]orm is not the aim of our work, but only the result”. For Mies van der Rohe, the most significant phase of the design process was the “starting point of the form-giving process” (van der Rohe 1923, p. 1; Charitonidou 2021). Le Corbusier commented on the importance of spontaneous means in June 1951, two months after the 8th CIAM held in Hoddesdon. In an article he wrote for Madame Chastanet, he underscored the importance of the “spontaneous means” and its connection to the “right time”. He also drew a distinction between the act of emerging (“surgir”) and the act of counting (“comptabiliser”). More specifically, he stated: “SPONTANEOUS means to emerge and not to count”. The fact that he insisted on the importance of inventing the means that correspond best to the time of acting could be related to his conception of architectural practice as a gesture. If we translate the verb “surgir” in English, the connotation of immediacy is lost. Le Corbusier associated the act of “surgir” with an understanding of knowledge as material inscribed in consciousness. Such a conception of knowledge could be related to a Bergsonian conception of memory and inscription in consciousness. Le Corbusier related the spontaneous act to the depth of knowledge and was interested in the connection of knowledge to consciousness. In 1951, Le Corbusier in a text authored for the eighth CIAM defined consciousness as “a tremendous concentration of events experienced and recorded in the depths of being” (Le Corbusier 1952).
Le Corbusier’s understanding of the concept of gesture could be understood in two ways: on the one hand, his reflection on the initiative gesture of the design procedure, and, on the other hand, his concern about the gestures of the inhabitants of his buildings. According to Vilém Flusser, “[t]he concept of the tool can be defined to include everything that moves in gestures and thus expresses a freedom” (Flusser 1991, p. 122; 2014; Flusser cited in Gänshirt 2007, p. 105; Charitonidou 2022). This remark of Flusser could be useful in order to interpret Le Corbusier’s choice to use the expression “Une maison-outil” (“A
house-tool”) as the title of a chapter in *Almanach d’architecture moderne* (Le Corbusier 1925c, p. 138). Flusser argues, in *Gesten: Versuch einer Phinomenologie*, that “[t]here is no thinking that would not be articulated by a gesture. Thinking before articulation is only virtual, in other words nothing. It realizes itself through the gesture. Strictly speaking one cannot think before making gestures” (Flusser 1991, p. 38; 2014; Flusser cited in Gänshirt 2007, p. 106; 2021; Charitonidou 2022). Le Corbusier argued, in “Où en est l’architecture?”, which was included *L’architecture vivante*, that every gesture is affected by varying degrees of potentials related to art. More specifically, he claimed that every gesture is affected by an art potential5 (Le Corbusier 1927b). Le Corbusier also sustained that the house is attached to the gestures of its inhabitants. In “Où en est l’architecture?”, he underscored that “it does not exist any gesture that is not affected to varying degrees of an art potential”.
4. Le Corbusier’s Concept of “Ineffable Space”: Taking Possession of Space
Le Corbusier, in a letter addressed to his mother in 1948, commented on his book entitled *The New World of Space*. He remarked that his work related to urbanism, architecture, painting and sculpture is characterized by the appearance of “a new notion of space”. He argued that what characterized his notion of space is the dominance of calmness, limpidity and clarity8. He also underlined that these three qualities distinguish his own conception of the notion of space from the notion of space corresponding to Fauvism, Cubism, Surrealism and Expressionism9. Le Corbusier’s concept of “indefinable space” (“espace indicible”), which was also described by him as “space beyond words”, acquired a central place in his conceptual edifice after 1945. The fact that Le Corbusier employed the expression “space beyond words” to describe the phenomenon of “indefinable space” is indicative of his awareness that the effect of space is related to a power beyond words. Le Corbusier developed the concept of “indefinable space” in several texts that were published between 1946 and 1953. The first time he mentioned this concept was an article entitled “L’espace indicible”, published in *L’Architecture d’aujourd’hui* in April 1946 (Le Corbusier 1946a). The first manuscript of this text was written on 13 September 194510, and its original title was “Take possession of space” (“Prendre possession de l’espace”). In this text, Le Corbusier maintained that “taking possession of space is the first gesture of all living, of men and animals, plants and clouds, a fundamental manifestation of balance and duration”. He also claimed that “[t]he first proof of existence is to occupy space”11 (Le Corbusier 2000, p. 30).
Le Corbusier referred to the primacy of the activity of taking possession of space for all living creatures in *The Modulor*, where he argues that a primordial trait of his intellectual activity is related to its capacity to manifest space, writing: “I see—looking back after all these years, that my entire intellectual activity has been directed towards the manifestation of space. I am a man of space, not only mentally but physically … ” (Le Corbusier 1958, p. 27; Le Corbusier cited in Naegle 2001, p. 6). Le Corbusier drew a distinction between physicality and mentality. He believed that there is a difference between expressing or manifesting the notion of space in a mental way and expressing or manifesting the notion of space in a physical way. This distinction could be related to the distinction between the real and the fictive dimension of architectural practice.
To better understand what Le Corbusier meant when he used the expression “indefinable space” (“espace indicible”), we should bear in mind that, according to him, a work is able to provoke an effect of “indefinable space” when it has acquired “its maximum intensity, proportion, quality of execution, perfection” (Le Corbusier 1961, p. 3). Interestingly, this phenomenon, as Le Corbusier remarked, “does not depend on the dimensions but on the quality of perfection” (Le Corbusier 1961, p. 3). Le Corbusier maintained that “[t]he key to aesthetic emotion is a spatial function”12 (Le Corbusier 1946a, p. 10). He related the phenomenon of “indefinable space” in architecture to mathematics, arguing that mathematics and the phenomenon of “indefinable space” share their capacity to provoke an effect of “concordance”. More specifically, he remarked, in “l’espace indicible”: “A phenomenon of concordance occurs, exactly as in mathematics”13. It would be thought-provoking
to relate this “phenomenon of concordance” to the phenomenon of “synchronism” to which Le Corbusier referred in his text entitled “Une maison-outil”, published in Almanach d’architecture in 1925 (Le Corbusier 1925c, p. 138), that is to say 21 years before he authored “L’espace indécelable” (Le Corbusier 1946a).
Le Corbusier also used the expression “magnification of space” to describe the phenomenon of “ineffable space”. He related “magnification of space” to the inventions of Cubism. Amédée Ozenfant and Le Corbusier placed particular emphasis on the accidental nature of perspective from the second year of publication of the magazine L’Esprit Nouveau. In 1921, they noted in the fourth issue of L’Esprit Nouveau, in an article entitled “Le purisme”: “The ordinary perspective, in its theoretical rigour, gives objects only an accidental aspect: what an eye that has never seen this object, would see if it was placed in the special visual angle to this perspective, angle always particular, so incomplete” (Le Corbusier and Ozenfant 1921b, 2000, p. 58; Le Corbusier and Ozenfant cited in Ducros 2002; Reichlin 1997, 2006). In the same article, Ozenfant and Le Corbusier underscored the importance of transmissibility and universality for Purism. Le Corbusier and Ozenfant understood depth as a generator of the sensation of space. In the same year as the publication of the article “Le purisme” in L’Esprit Nouveau, Ozenfant and Le Corbusier, in a different text entitled “Intégre”, published in Création, gave their own definition of perspective: “Perspective means creation of virtual space. Purism admits as a constructive means of the first order the sensation of depth, which generates the sensation of space, without which volume is a useless world” (Le Corbusier and Ozenfant 1921a). Reading Ozenfant and Le Corbusier’s remark that “the sensation of depth [. . .] generates the sensation of space” brings to mind the notion of “sense of space” (“Raumgefühl”) of August Schmarsow (Schmarsow 1894, 1994).
“Viewer”, “spectator”, “observer” and “perceiver” constitute different terms that could be employed—each one with its own connotations—to refer to the subject that observes, interprets and decodes architectural drawings (Charitonidou 2018). Amédée Ozenfant—the co-director of L’Esprit Nouveau along with Le Corbusier— in a text entitled “Sur les écoles cubistes et post-cubistes”, originally published in 1926, analyzes the transformation that the inventions of the Cubists and post-Cubists provoked regarding the attitude of the spectators. Ozenfant maintained that the exigency of a sensitivity that is related to vision was one of the new demands of the Cubists and post-Cubists: “the painting of the above schools requires of its spectator the culture of optical sensitivity”. The culture of visual sensitivity was predominant in Le Corbusier’s intellectual strategies as well. In the same text, Ozenfant notes: “one must avoid looking for what the painting “represents”, since it represents nothing” (Ozenfant 1926, p. 13). A question that emerges reading this statement of Ozenfant is whether this endorsement of non-representative art is also reflected in Le Corbusier’s approach.
Amédée Ozenfant, in the aforementioned article, refers to a “notion of beauty without sign” (Ozenfant 1926). According to him, the artist, in order to succeed in reinventing the relationship of the work of art with its spectators, should have the capability to “measure” the intensity of their excitations in front of the spectacles of art” (Ozenfant 1926). In other words, Ozenfant believed in the capacity of works of art to provoke “an eminently intensive state for all”. The notion of transmissibility is at the heart of the philosophy of Purism. An interesting definition of Purism can be found in The Isms of Art, 1914–1924 (Kunstismus, 1914–1924), published by El Lissitzky and Hans Arp in 1925: “The picture is a machine for the transmission of sentiments. Science offers us a kind of physiological language that enables us to produce precise physiological sensations in the spectator” (Lissitzky and Arp 1925, p. x; 1990). In 1938, Le Corbusier wrote, in Œuvre plastique. Peintures et Dessins Architecture: “The work of art is” a game “whose author—the painter—has created the rule of his game and the rule must be able to appear to those who seek to play” (Le Corbusier 1938; Petit and Le Corbusier 1968, p. 18; Le Corbusier cited in Coll 1996, p. 13). We could claim that this remark of Le Corbusier regarding the painter as an author of rules to be perceived by the viewer is also valuable for architectural drawings.
The fact that transmissibility was a central issue for Le Corbusier’s architectural approach is apparent from what he wrote, in *New World of Space*, published in 1948, addressed to architects: “You are ‘social beings’ rather than artists—you are leaders, followed by millions of individuals who are ready to follow you if you seize the exact moment when ‘illumination’ exists between you and them” (Le Corbusier 1948, p. 67). Reading these words of Le Corbusier, one understands that his vision about architecture was characterized by an insistence on the importance of the social role of the architect. The task of the architect, for Le Corbusier, consisted in convincing, in an efficient way, depending on the conquest of the exact moment of illumination, users to endorse the experience of the space conceived by the architect.
In *New World of Space*, Le Corbusier refers to a “transition from an age of subjection to an age of creation” (Le Corbusier 1948). Two questions that emerge concern (a) when the aforementioned shift took place, and (b) its impact on Le Corbusier’s architectural expression. The reinvention of the way one views space is related to the transformation of how one experiences space. According to Carl Einstein, to “transform space [. . .] one must throw into question the view itself” (Einstein in Naegele 2001). Einstein’s text entitled “Cubic Intuition of Space” (“Kubische Raumanschaung”), included in *Negerplastik* (Einstein 1915), is of pivotal importance for understanding the reinvention of how one views space.
Le Corbusier’s “L’espace indicible” was published the same year as *Propos d’urbanisme* (Le Corbusier 1946b, 1970; Rodríguez-Lora et al. 2021). This invites us to wonder to what extent Le Corbusier’s understanding of urban planning changed after the invention of the expression “espace indicible”. The shift to which Le Corbusier refers is that from “l’esprit nouveau” to “l’espace indicible”15. Le Corbusier’s theory of “synthesis of major arts” could help us better understand his concept of “ineffable space”. The emergence of the concept of “ineffable space” in Le Corbusier’s thought is linked to the post-war context (Le Corbusier 1948; Ockman 1993, p. 66). This becomes evident when he introduces his text on “ineffable space” with the following statement: “This text must be in its proper place. Year 45 counts millions of homeless people straining towards the desperate hope of an immediate transformation of their misery”16. Le Corbusier also underscored that this text was “addressed to those whose mission is to achieve a fair and effective occupation of space, the only one able to put in place things of life and consequently to put life in its only true milieu, where harmony reigns”17. In the aforementioned excerpt, Le Corbusier related the efficient occupation of space to harmony and believed that the capacity of the architect depended on his sense of space. He believed that “[t]o be is to occupy space”18.
5. The Notion of Assemblage in Le Corbusier’s Thought: Architecture as Precise Relationships
Le Corbusier’s conception of architecture as the succession of events is founded on the assumption that the events take place through “the creation of precise relations”. Le Corbusier argued that in the cases in which the establishment of relations is “precise” and “overwhelming”, architectural artefacts are capable of “provoking physiological sensations”. The notion of relationship (“rapport”) is central in Le Corbusier’s conceptual edifice. This becomes evident when he mentions that “all events and objects are ‘in relation to...’” (Le Corbusier 1930, p. 34; 2015b). Le Corbusier also maintained that an efficient choice and setting up of relations are capable of providing “a real spiritual delectation”, which “is felt at reading the solution”. For Le Corbusier, the sentiment of satisfaction and enjoyment provoked through the “reading of the solution” by the users is related to the “perception of harmony”. More particularly, he was convinced that the users can perceive space as harmonious, with “the clear-cut mathematical quality uniting each element of the work” (Le Corbusier 1930, p. 34; 2015b). Le Corbusier places particular emphasis on “the effect of the relationships” (Le Corbusier 1930, p. 34; 2015b) on the perception of the addressees of architecture (Charitonidou 2018).
According to Pierre Litzler, Le Corbusier defined architecture as the syntax of relationships (Litzler 2013; Charitonidou 2018). Le Corbusier described architectural composition as “living bond as a word” and perceived architectural composition as assemblage. More specifically, he used the term “soudure”, which is closely related to the concept of “assemblage”. He believed that “the architectural composition manifests itself” when the “objects constitute an organism carrying a particular, precise intention, different according to the feeling which animated the arrangement, the welding, the living connection as a word” (Litzler 2013). Regarding Le Corbusier’s architectural composition process, Bruno Reichlin remarks, in “Jeanneret/Le Corbusier, Painter-Architect”: “It’s only the ensemble of spaces, elements and accidents that unveil the rules—the syntax—which structure it; it is only at the level of the ensemble that we read the spatial counterpoint between Domino and partition; counterpoint that explains the relationship between the constructive framework and the free articulation of spaces” (Reichlin 1997, 2006). The concept of “intertextuality” could help us better understand the role of assemblage in Le Corbusier’s conceptual edifice. The role of assemblage in Le Corbusier’s thought refers not only to architectural artefacts, but also to the relationship architectural artefacts have with the broader cultural context, or with other forms of art. Regarding the relation of architecture to aspects beyond architecture, Bruno Reichlin, in “L’œuvre n’est plus faite seulement d’elle-même”, refers to the intertextuality in Le Corbusier’s work, with particular emphasis on the client as intertext, the intertext of open work, and the other as intertext (Reichlin 2008).
6. The “Maison-Outil” as Clear Syntax: Towards Synchronism or the Game of Indisputable Emotions
Le Corbusier, in “Une maison-outil”, published in Almanach d’architecture moderne in 1925, established as a criterion for considering an architectural artefact good its capacity to provoke emotions. He used the expression “game of indisputable emotions”, arguing that “[... ] made of objects that fulfil our functions”. He related the efficiency of objects being part of a housing unit to the capacity of the architect to “synchronize” them. This becomes evident when he underscores that the “objects [that constitute the house] are destined for an efficiency that arises from their synchronism”. The criterion for judging whether such “synchronism” takes place is the extent to which “particular sensations” are provoked. Le Corbusier defined “synchronism” as the phenomenon provoked when objects are related in a way that provokes “particular sensations”. In parallel, he defined “architectural composition” as the capacity to assemble the objects in an organism in a way that demonstrates a precise intention (Le Corbusier 1925c, p. 138).
In 1925, Le Corbusier, in “Une maison-outil”, considered clear syntax “the particular quality of order that has been printed on the grouping of the objects” (Le Corbusier 1925c, p. 138) that constitutes the building. Two years later, in “Où en est l’architecture”, he declared that he desired “a poem made of solid words in the definite sense and grouped into a clear syntax” (Le Corbusier 1927b, p. 11). He drew a distinction between architecture and poem. This comparison is reminiscent of the ancient Greek notion of ποίησις and could be related to the distinction he drew between “the living connection as a spoken word” (“la liaison vivante comme une parole”) and the establishment of relationships between objects during the process of architectural composition. Le Corbusier used the expression “parole of architecture” to describe the phenomenon of stimulation due to the embodiment of precise intentions during the process of architectural composition. He compared the syntax of relationships to “the living connection as a spoken word” (Le Corbusier 1925c, p. 138; François 1996, 2005) and referred to the “game of indisputable emotions”.
Le Corbusier’s insistence on the necessity of the discovery or invention of a “clear syntax” could be related to his remark that “the power of architecture, (the potential of architecture) is integrated into the spirit that sets the order of grouping the elements of the house” (Le Corbusier 1925c, p. 138; François 1996, 2005). In an article entitled “Esprit de vérité” published in the first issue of Mouvement, Le Corbusier defined architecture as the activity of “putting in order, establishing relationships and, by the choice of relationships: intensity”20 (Le Corbusier 1933, 1988). He argued that the main purpose of architecture should be intensity and believed that intensity could be achieved only “if the objects considered are precise, exact, acute”21 (François 1996, 2005). Le Corbusier understood precision, exactitude and acuteness as the preconditions of intense relationships. In a different text with the same title— “L’esprit de vérité”—published in 1927, Le Corbusier argued that architecture should be “a pure system of structure” and considered a “pure system of structure” a system that “satisfies the exigencies of reason” (Le Corbusier 1927a, p. 5). These reflections make us realize how important the relationship between reason and emotion was for Le Corbusier.
7. Le Corbusier’s Relationship with De Stijl: The Interest in Precision
Useful for comparing Le Corbusier’s conception of form-making strategies and those of the De Stijl is Bruno Reichlin’s chapter entitled “Le Corbusier vs De Stijl” published in De Stijl et L’architecture en France, where the author underscores that among all the projects of Le Corbusier, the one that has the most affinities with the De Stijl approach is the Villa La Roche-Jeanneret (Reichlin 1985; Bois et al. 1985). This hypothesis is further reinforced by the fact that Le Corbusier visited the exhibition “Les architectes du groupe De Stijl”, held between 15 October and 15 November 1923 at the Galerie de L’Effort Moderne in Paris (Bois 1983, p. 121; 1981; Bois et al. 1985) (Figure 6). His encounter with the compositional architectural strategies of De Stijl played a major role in the transformation of his project for the Villa La Roche-Jeanneret. Le Corbusier, after having visited the aforementioned exhibition, revised his drawings for the Villa La Roche-Jeanneret, taking into account the concept of “counter-composition”, which was at the core of De Stijl movement. Le Corbusier privileged the use of perspective representation, despite his predilection for the avant-garde anti-subjectivist tendencies, which disapproved the use of perspective and favored the use of axonometric representation or other modes of representation opposed to the philosophical implications of perspective (Bois 1981, 1983). Theo van Doesburg’s approach was representative of De Stijl’s preference for axonometric representation. Likewise, El Lissitzky rejected perspective, as is evidenced by his text “A. and Pangeometry” (“K. und Pangeometrie”), first published in 1925 (Lissitzky 1925, 1970; Charitonidou 2020). To better grasp Le Corbusier’s modes of representations, we should bear in mind that the ambiguity between individuality and universality is Le Corbusier’s “conviction that the means of architectural composition process should be generalizable and universally understandable and transmissible” (Charitonidou 2020, p. 94).
Théo van Doesburg drew a distinction “between composition (placing together) and construction (binding together)” (van Doesburg 1923). He argued that neither composition nor construction “can lead to fruitful, monumental artistic production if we do not agree on the elemental means of form-creation” (van Doesburg 1923). What was of primordial importance for van Doesburg was the establishment of “elemental means of form-creation” (van Doesburg 1923). Théo van Doesburg and Le Corbusier shared their interest in precision. The former remarked in “Elemental Formation” (“Material zur Elementaren Gestaltung”) (van Doesburg 1923) published in G: “the demand of our time: PRECISION” (van Doesburg 1923). A large plaster model of the Villa La Roche-Jeanneret was shown at the exhibition in the Salon d’Automne in November 1923 (Figure 7). One of the major changes that Le Corbusier made in his project for the Villa La Roche-Jeanneret, after having
visited the exhibition “Les architectes du groupe De Stijl”, was the transformation of the small windows into large ones. Mies van der Rohe participated in this exhibition with a perspective of the Concrete Country House (Charitonidou 2018, 2021).
Figure 7. Model of the Maison La Roche-Jeanneret exposed at the “Salon d’Automne” in 1923 in Paris. Credits: Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris.
8. Le Corbusier vis-à-vis the Post-War Italian Neo-Humanistic Discourse: The Debates around Proportions
The fact that Le Corbusier abandoned the Congrès Internationaux d’Architecture Moderne (CIAM) in 1955 should be interpreted in relation to the development of post-war Italian humanistic discourse. During the 1950s, he participated as a keynote lecturer at the CIAM summer schools, which ran from 1949 to 1956. Le Corbusier gave a lecture at the CIAM summer school held at the Università Iuav di Venezia in 1953 (Figure 8), while he refused the invitation to give a lecture at the CIAM summer school in Venice in 1957. During the same period, Le Corbusier was involved in the design of the hospital in Venice that remained unrealized. An aspect that is of great importance for understanding the impact of the post-war Italian humanistic context on Le Corbusier’s thought is his participation in the “First International Conference on Proportion in the Arts” (“II primo Convegno Internazionale sulle proporzioni nelle arti”) in the framework of the ninth Triennale di Milano between 26 and 29 September 1951 (Irace and Cimoli 2007; Charitonidou 2019a). Le Corbusier, in the talk he gave on 28 September 1951, presented his theory around the Modulor (Cohen 2014). Rudolf Wittkower was a plenary speaker in this conference, and Sigfried Giedion, Matila Ghyka, Pier Luigi Nervi, Andreas Speiser and Bruno Zevi were among the participants. Giulio Carlo Argan refused the invitation. Zevi delivered a lecture entitled “La quatrième dimension et les problèmes de la proportion”, while Ghyka’s talk was devoted to “Symétrie pentagonale et Section Dorée dans la Morphologie des organismes vivants”. Zevi sent a letter to Le Corbusier on 7 August 1952, reminding him that they had met in the framework of this conference.
Regarding the “First International Conference on Proportion in the Arts”, Fulvio Irace and Anna Chiara Cimoli remark: “In 1951 the conference De Divina Proportione was proposed as an ecumenical council of men of arts and sciences, convened to determine the rules of the spirit that were to govern the new areas of the reconstruction of democracy” (Irace and Cimoli 2007, p. 17; Charitonidou 2019a). As Simon Richards notes, Le Corbusier’s Modulor “is primarily an epistemological mechanism, and only incidentally a formal one” (Richards 2003). The presentation of the Modulor by Le Corbusier at this conference was not its first public presentation given that Le Corbusier had already presented it in New York, on 25 April 1947, during his participation in the committee that was responsible for the design of the United Nations complex.
Philip Johnson invited Le Corbusier to contribute to a symposium entitled “De Divina Proportione” that would be held on 11 March 1952 at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York. The speakers that contributed to the discussion around the theories of proportion in art held at the MoMA and led by Josep Lluís Sert were the architects George Howe, Eero Saarinien and Enrico Peressutti and the art professor Dr. W.V. Dinsnoor. In the introduction of the symposium, Howe mentioned that “whether systematic or instinctive, good proportion still remains order made visible”27. He also referred to Matila Ghyka’s Esthétique des proportions dans la nature et dans les arts (Aesthetics of Proportion in Nature and in the Arts) (Ghyka 1927, 1977; Cohen 2014; Gamwell 2016, p. 517). Philip Johnson had invited Le Corbusier to participate as one can read in their correspondence28. Le Corbusier wrote to Johnson that he would participate in the symposium only if his expenses of travel and accommodation were paid. In the end, he did not participate, but he asked for the proceedings29. In the letter he addressed to Johnson in June 1952, he asked for the proceedings as president of the “International Committee for the Study and the Application of the Proportions in Contemporary Arts and Industry” (“Comité internationale pour l’étude et l’application des proportions dans les arts et l’industrie contemporaine”/”Comitato internazionale di studio sulle proporzioni nelle arti”).
The debate around the concept of proportions was at the center of the epistemological debates in architecture during the post-war era. To better grasp how central the debates around proportions were during the post-war period, we can bring to mind Colin Rowe’s “The Mathematics of the Ideal Villa”, published in 194730 (Rowe 1947a, 1947b), Le Corbusier’s The Modulor, published in 1950 (Le Corbusier 1950, 1958), and
 (accessed on 10 February 2022).
Rudolf Wittkower’s *Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism*, published in 1949 (Wittkower 1949). According to Francesco Passanti, Le Corbusier’s *The Modulor* “encourages a Platonic understanding of architectural proportions, both because it posits a direct correspondence between the human body and the golden section and because its date of publication suggests comparison with the Platonic argument of Rudolf Wittkower’s *Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism* (Wittkower 1949)” (Passanti 2002, p. 77). In 1955, Reyner Banham described *The Modulor* as a “blend of residual platonism, actuarial statistics, and plain wishful-thinking” (Banham 1955, p. 231; Charitonidou 2020).
9. Human Scale and Universal Needs: Towards a Universal User or *The Modulor*
The interest of Le Corbusier in human scale is related to the place that body and physiology had in his thought. The complementarity of spirit and body was defining for him, as it becomes evident from what he sustains in *The Modulor*: “Architecture must be a thing of the body, a thing of substance as well as of the spirit and of the brain” (Le Corbusier 1954, 2000, p. 61). A remark of Nietzsche that could help us better understand Le Corbusier’s concern about human proportions is the claim that “aesthetics is nothing else than applied physiology” (Nietzsche 1992, p. 184). Le Corbusier mentions, in *The Modulor*, that “the desire, the urge, the need to build to the human scale” (Le Corbusier 1954, 2000, p. 32) emerged between 1925 and 1933, when his interest in measurements and requirements for the human body (“resting, sitting, walking”) began (Le Corbusier 1954, p. 32; 2000, p. 32; Le Corbusier cited in Naegele 2001). He associated the dependence of his design processes on human proportions to the idea that there are human needs that are universal and do not differ from one culture to the other. Heraclitus’ thesis that “Man is the measure of all truth” (Heraclitus in Bywater 1889) seems to be close to Le Corbusier’s understanding of the relationship between human proportions and truth.
Le Corbusier’s interest in human proportions is not related to the reduction of architecture to the practicality of satisfying human needs. He believed that architecture is much more than the simple service of human need. This becomes evident from what he notes in *Towards a New Architecture*: “Architecture has another meaning and other ends to pursue than showing construction and responding to needs (and by “needs” I mean utility, comfort and practical arrangement)” (Le Corbusier 1923, 2007). The ambiguity between the insistence on the importance of functionality and the overcoming of the functional aspects of architecture is a non-resolved tension in Le Corbusier’s thought. As Stanislaus von Moos mentions, Le Corbusier’s stance is characterized by a “contradiction between the architect’s constant reference to the machine and his polemical refusal of mere functionalism and utilitarianism” (von Moos 2009, p. 68). In *L’art décoratif d’aujourd’hui*, which was originally published in 1925, Le Corbusier writes:
> to search for the human scale, for human function, is to define human needs. They are not very numerous; they are very similar for all mankind, since man has been made out of the same mould from the earliest times known to us . . . the whole machine is there, the structure, the nervous system, the arterial system, and this applies to every single one of us exactly and without exception. (Le Corbusier 1925a, p. 72; 1987)
Le Corbusier notes in the letter he addresses to Lebhart on 5 June 1950 that the *Modulor* “was invented in 1942 and was developed for eight years”31. According to Jean-Louis Cohen, Le Corbusier’s *Modulor* was codified in 1945. As Cohen notes, “the term Modulor was composed by the fusion of the notion of module with the notion of the golden section” (Cohen 2014, p. 1). In the fourth volume of Le Corbusier’s *Œuvre complète*, one can read: “It was in 1945 that Le Corbusier finally closed the researches on proportion that he had conducted for twenty years, and which had won for him, ten years previously, the degree of Dr. h.c. in philosophy and mathematics of the University of Zürich” (Boesiger 1946, p. 170). Le Corbusier expressed, for the first time, his interest in a system of proportion in 1910, during his stay in Germany (Passanti 2002). The connection of Le Corbusier’s *Modulor* with Matila C. Ghyka’s thought is important for understanding Le Corbusier’s *Modulor*.
Ghyka’s *Le nombre d’or: Tome 1er les rythmes* is part of Le Corbusier’s personal library, and he highlighted many of its passages. A letter from Paul Valéry preceded the edition of Ghyka’s *Le nombre d’or*, which we can find in Le Corbusier’s personal library. Later, Le Corbusier presented the Modulor at the 1951 Triennale di Milano in the framework of the “First International Conference on Proportion in the Arts” (Figure 9).
Rudolf Arnheim, commenting on Le Corbusier’s *Modulor* (Figures 10 and 11), notes that Le Corbusier had chosen to use “(t)he traditional doctrine of proportion [and] related architectural shape to man because his body was an example of perfection, not because he was to live in the building”. (Arnheim 1955) Arnheim, thus, dissociates Le Corbusier’s instrumentalization of human proportions from any preoccupation for the way spaces are inhabited. He also interpreted the utilization of human proportions by Le Corbusier as a way to “overcome the uncertainty of intuitive judgment” (Arnheim 1955) and as an antidote against arbitrariness. This becomes evident when he declares it “suited the demand for scientific exactness that arose in the Renaissance [ . . . ] It helped to make art respectable by demonstrating that the shape of its products was not arbitrary” (Arnheim 1955). The same year, Reyner Banham describes Le Corbusier’s *Modulor* as a “biography of a quest for humane and objective standards, adapted to the present state of mechanized society” (Banham 1955, p. 231). Following Richard Padovan, one could claim that “Le Corbusier’s practice, at least until he began to employ the *modulor* in his post-war work, seems to accord with [Oskar] Schlemmer’s recommendation that systematic proportions should only ‘function as a regulative, first simply to confirm what instinct has created and then, proceeding from this confirmation, to establish new rules’”.
---
**Figure 9.** Le Corbusier presenting the Modulor at the 1951 Triennale di Milano at the “First International Conference on Proportion in the Arts”. Credits: Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris.
Figure 10. Le Corbusier, *Modulor*. Credits: Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris, FLC 20944.
As Alain Pottage notes, in “Architectural Authorship: The Normative Ambitions of Le Corbusier’s Modulor”, “[t]he measures of the Modulor were held to be objective because they were discovered, not invented”. To better comprehend Le Corbusier’s conception of human needs, it is important to examine how he conceived the relationship between norms and architecture (Labbé 2015; Szambien et al. 1986; Madrazo 1994). Pottage has analyzed the normative ambitions of Le Corbusier’s Modulor, underscoring that “Le Corbusier saw Renaissance perspective and proportion as the basis of an architecture of abstract, undisciplined subjectivity”. He associated the use of perspective and proportions by Le Corbusier with the establishment of strategies aiming to legitimize an “abstract” conception of the inhabitant. Pottage notes: “Le Corbusier saw Renaissance perspective and proportion as the basis of an architecture of abstract, undisciplined subjectivity” (Pottage 1996, p. 65; Charitonidou 2019b, p. 119; Holm 2020). This interpretation of the Modulor as a mechanism of legitimization of “abstract, undisciplined subjectivity” could be related to Rudolf Arnheim’s claim that Le Corbusier’s instrumentalization of human proportions should not be related to his understanding of the practices of inhabitation. Understanding the subject corresponding to the Modulor as abstractness, as suggested by Pottage, goes hand in hand with understanding it independently from the inhabiting subject, as Arnheim argues (Arnheim 1955).
10. Towards a Conclusion: From Assemblages of Components to Succession of Events
The fact that Le Corbusier used to draw during the conferences he gave is of great interest for the reflections developed in this article given that it shows that his sketches were used to simultaneously capture and communicate ideas. More specifically, it demonstrates that Le Corbusier was particularly interested in the immediacy of the production of architectural sketches and the presence of the observers of architectural drawings during their production. The special character of the sketches that Le Corbusier used to produce during his conferences is related to the fact that their production was based on the immediacy of the transmission of architectural ideas through representation. Le Corbusier described the activity of producing sketches during his conferences as follows: “The public follows the development and the thought; they enter into the anatomy of the subject” (Le Corbusier cited in Benton 2007) (Figures 12 and 13). He also remarked regarding the act of drawing: “I prefer drawing to talking. Drawing allows less room for lies”34. Moreover, during an interview he gave to Robert Mallet in 1951, Le Corbusier underscored: “when we draw around words, we draw with useful words, we create something”35 (Monnier 1986; Le Corbusier cited in Bacon 2001, p. 336). He believed that “[d]rawing makes it possible to fully transmit the thought without any written or verbal explanations” (Petit and Le Corbusier 1968; Le Corbusier cited in Sequeira 2017). For him, drawing was “a language, a science, a means of expression, a means of transmitting thought” (Petit and Le Corbusier 1968).
Figure 12. Sketch made by Le Corbusier during a lecture entitled “The Plan of the Modern House” that Le Corbusier delivered on 11 October 1929. Credits: Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris, FLC 33493.
In 1925, Le Corbusier defined architecture as the establishment of relationships between objects or different building components. During the period in which he was focused on this definition of architecture, he was interested in the concept of syntax. The attention he paid to the assemblage of building components is related to the fact that he believed that good relationships can cause intense feelings. Five years later, in 1930, in *Précisions sur un état présent de l’architecture et de l’urbanisme*, he gave a different definition of architecture (Le Corbusier 1930, 2015b). More specifically, he defined architecture as the succession of events. Reyner Banham notes regarding the sequential understanding of architecture by Le Corbusier: “Architecture is not an instantaneous phenomenon, but a serial one, formed by the succession of images in time and space”. Banham relates this definition of architecture to a “crisis of modern architectural aesthetics” (Banham 1955, p. 231).
Le Corbusier’s definition of architecture as the establishment of relationships that are able to provoke intense feelings should be understood in conjunction with his interest in using axonometric representation during those years (Le Corbusier 1930, 2015b). This connection is legitimized by the fact that the moment he gave the aforementioned definition...
of architecture coincides with the brief period during which he privileged axonometric representation. Axonometric representation, as an object-oriented mode of representation (Schneider 1981), pushes the observers to focus their interpretation of the architectural drawings on the relationships between the various parts of the represented architectural artefacts. Le Corbusier’s definition of architecture as the succession of events should be related to his use of perspective and, mainly, to his tendency to represent several different interior perspective views corresponding to specific spatial sequences on the same sheet of paper. In parallel, Le Corbusier’s understanding of architecture as the succession of events should be interpreted in relation to his conception of the so-called “promenade architecturale”. The first building of Le Corbusier, which is explicitly associated with the concept of “promenade architecturale”, is the Villa La Roche-Jeanneret (Figures 14 and 15). Le Corbusier, in the first volume of his Œuvre complète, presents this project as the origin of the “promenade architecturale” (Boesiger and Stonorov 1946). In the first volume of Le Corbusier’s Œuvre complète, regarding Villa La Roche, one can read:
This second house will be rather like an architectural promenade. You enter: the architectural spectacle at once offers itself to the eye. You follow an itinerary and the perspectives develop with great variety, developing a play of light on the walls or making pools of shadow. Large windows open up view of architectural discoveries: the pilotis, the long windows, the roof garden, the glass façade. Once again we must learn at the end of the day to appreciate what is available. (Boesiger and Stonorov 1946, p. 60)
Figure 14. Le Corbusier, four interior and exterior perspectives on the same sheet of paper, Maisons La Roche-Jeanneret, 1923–1925. Credits: Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris, FLC 15113.
Indicative of how Le Corbusier related the concept of “promenade architecturale” to his definition of architecture as the succession of events is his insistence that “the architectural spectacle unfolds in succession before your eyes”\(^\text{36}\), when the inhabitants enter the house. Le Corbusier also believed that “the perspectives develop with great variety”\(^\text{37}\) as the inhabitants follow an itinerary throughout the building. The emergence of the concept of “promenade architecturale” and its prioritization in Le Corbusier’s conceptual edifice was accompanied by certain transformations of how Le Corbusier used to fabricate the interior perspective views of his projects (Charitonidou 2018). Le Corbusier insisted on the fact that “[a]rchitecture is experienced as one roams about in it and walks through it”. In 1942, he commented on the concept of “promenade architecturale”:
> So true is this that architectural works can be divided into dead and living ones depending on whether the law of ‘roaming through’ has not been observed or whether on the contrary it has been brilliantly obeyed. (Le Corbusier 1943, 1960c; Samuel 2014)
The fact that he distinguished dead architectural works from living ones, adopting their capacity to provide spaces that can be “roamed through” as a criterion of evaluation, should be related to how he used to draw his interior perspective views. His interior perspective views in most of the cases have a well-defined frame, are not symmetric and are like sequences or film shots of the views encountered while moving through space, traversing space assemblages. The concept of “promenade architecturale” and the way Le Corbusier used to draw his perspective views should be comprehended in relation to the fact that Le Corbusier, in *Precisions on the Present State of Architecture and City Planning*...
(Précisions sur un état présent de l’architecture et de l’urbanisme), defined architecture as “a series of successive events” (Le Corbusier 1930, 2015b).
Bruno Reichlin described Le Corbusier’s architecture as “anti-perspective”, arguing that Le Corbusier did not conceive architectural artefacts “in relation to privileged points of view to which the forms are ordered according to the most advantageous perspective” (Reichlin 2006, p. 47; Charitonidou 2018). According to Reichlin, Le Corbusier’s tactics of representing his architectural ideas put forward a plurality of views. Reichlin uses the expression “dispositifs anti-perspectifs” (Reichlin 2006, p. 47) to describe the representation strategies of Le Corbusier. A distinctive characteristic of Le Corbusier’s architectural drawings is his habit to produce drawings that are based on different modes of representation—interior and exterior perspectives, axonometric representations, plans, etc.—on the same sheet of paper. One should interpret this tendency relating it to his definition of architecture as the succession of events (Charitonidou 2018). The emergence of his definition of architecture as the succession of events coincides chronologically with the appearance of the notion of the well-known “architectural promenade” (“promenade architecturale”) in his discourse (Charitonidou 2018). The sequential perception of space through the movement in it is pivotal for understanding Le Corbusier’s understanding of the architectural design process. When he declared, in 1942, that “[a]rchitecture can be classified as dead or living by the degree to which the rule of sequential movement has been ignored or, instead, brilliantly observed” (Le Corbusier cited in Stierli 2013, p. 171; Le Corbusier 1943, 1960c, 2000), he makes it clear that the transmission of a sequential perception and experience of space is one of the guiding principles of his architectural stance.
**Funding:** This research received no external funding.
**Institutional Review Board Statement:** Not applicable.
**Data Availability Statement:** Not applicable.
**Acknowledgments:** I am grateful to the anonymous reviewers, the academic editor Íñaki Bergera, Arnaud Dercelles from Fondation Le Corbusier, as well as Jean-Louis Cohen, Bernard Tschumi, George Parmenidis, Pippo Ciorra, Constantinos Moraitis, Kostas Tsiambaos, and Panayotis Tournikiotis for their insightful comments. Some of the reflections that are developed in this article emerged in the framework of the research I conducted for my Ph.D. Thesis entitled The Relationship between Interpretation and Elaboration of Architectural Form: Investigating the Mutations of Architecture’s Scope (Charitonidou 2018) for which I was awarded unanimously a Ph.D. Degree from the National Technical University of Athens in September 2018 (jury: Jean-Louis Cohen, Bernard Tschumi, George Parmenidis, Pippo Ciorra, Constantinos Moraitis, Kostas Tsiambaos, Panayotis Tournikiotis). I would also like to thank Fondation Le Corbusier for offering me the opportunity to conduct extensive archival research in the primary materials conserved at the Fondation Le Corbusier in Paris, and for authorizing me to use the Figures 1–5, Figure 7, Figures 9–12, Figures 14 and 15. Moreover, I am thankful to Het Nieuwe Instituut in Rotterdam for authorizing me to use the Figure 6, and to Arthur Rüegg for authorising me to use Figure 13.
**Conflicts of Interest:** The author declares no conflict of interest.
**Notes**
3. The subtitle of the magazine changed in the third issue from Material zur elementaren Gestaltung (Material for Elementary Construction) to Zeitschrift für elementare Gestaltung (Journal for Elementary Construction).
5. Le Corbusier, typescript of his text entitled “Ou en est l’architecture?”, Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris, FLC U3-5-158 (Le Corbusier 1927b). This text was published in L’architecture vivante, just after the text “L’esprit de vérité” (Le Corbusier 1927a). Translation by the author.
6. Ibid.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid.
10. Le Corbusier, the first typescript of the text “Prendre possession de l’espace” written on 13 September 1945, Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris, FLC B3-7-209. Translation by the author.
13. Ibid.
14. Ibid.
16. Same with note 12.
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid.
19. The term “parole” refers to spoken discourse and not to written discourse.
21. Ibid.
22. Le Corbusier, letter in which he refused to contribute to the CIAM Summer School (Seminario Estivo) at IUAV, 16 September 1957, Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris, FLC C3-20-216.
30. Colin Rowe’s Master thesis was written while he was a student of Rudolf Wittkower at the Warburg Institute.
32. This book was offered to Le Corbusier by Matila C. Ghyka. We can read the following dedication: “À Monsieur Le Corbusier hommage très amical Matila C. Ghyka”. Personal library of Le Corbusier, Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris.
References
Monnier, Gérard. 1986. Le Corbusier (Qui suis-je?). Lyon: La Manufacture.
Schneider, Bernhard. 1981. Perspective refers to the viewer, axonometry refers to the object. Daidalos 1: 81–95. |
Publicity and the semiotics of the acting performance in the performance of the Baghdadi Circle of Love
Marthed Abdullah Judaaain
Mosul University College of Fine Arts Department of Performing Arts
Mathad.memo@gmail.com
AS. P. D Musab Ibrahim Muhammad
Mosul University College of Fine Arts Department of Performing Arts
dr.musab_ibrahim@uomosul.edu.iq
Received: December 21, 2022; reviews: 2; accepted: January 15, 2023
Abstract
Advertising is a media communication method that presents the message via audio and visual advertising, employing the stimulus and the exciting, leading to persuasion, which plays on the psychological and emotional side and generates in turn the response by the consuming audience based on personalities, dialogue, and body action, which generates a group of direct and indirect signifiers that form the content dimension. In light of the above, the current research consisted of four chapters. The first chapter addressed the research challenge, which was illustrated in Figure 1. (what is publicity and what is its relationship to the semiotics of the representative performance in the performances of the Iraqi theater). The first (the idea of publicity) and the second (the semiotics of the actor's performance in the theater) are covered in this article. The third chapter contains the research sample, the research instrument, and the investigation and evaluation methodology for proffering the play (The Baghdadi Circle of Love), while the fourth chapter contains the results of the analysis, the most significant conclusions, recommendations, proposals, and a list of sources.
Introduction (Methodological Framework)
Research problem
Through its various stages of development, the theater tended to involve itself in all aspects of social life, or to establish topics that affected but were affected by those areas, including political, social, and allows companies to reach and crises, as well as the factors influencing the environment surrounding a theatrical
performance. It’s become effective just on quality of the given theatrical content and the performing style. From these vantage points, theatrical art committed its expressive materials to direct contact with both the daily experience and the specifics of everyday life, so it became in ongoing overlap with all scientific and human areas, and invested its means and products in their service, particularly psychology, sociology, technology, the media, and other fields. Hence, the theater began to contribute to the production of basic and regenerative effects, as well as the search for emancipation from the conventional classical limits in theatrical performance arts and the formation of a civilized intellectual and cultural structure.
These fields and sciences have benefited theatrical art, which then acts as a way of marketing and advertising scientific and artistic material, and thus media and theater have become important sciences that conflict with the rest of the sciences in an inverse manner, as a significant promoter of its activities and results to the masses of society. On this basis, the notion of publicity arose as a media and commercial medium that aims to support and publicize conveyed material. Publicity is an indispensable component with communicative qualities in the performance of theatrical actors. And depending on fundamental pillars in the mechanics of communication, such as the communicative features that foster a productive interaction between the sender (actor) and the recipient (receiver). So, the acting performance replaces propaganda production, which is based on the broadcasting of numerous visual and audible means arising from the blending of advertising expressive functions. Thus, the researcher developed his study question by posing the following questions: What is publicity, and how does it relate to the semiotics of the acting performance in The Baghdadi Circle of Love?
The value and need of research
The acting job, with its semantic dimension, assumed the function of broadcast direct and indirect signals and codes to communicate an artistic, cultural, or political message as the primary objective of the theatrical performance, therefore promoting the message’s substance. Consequently, publicity has assumed a vital role, interfering with the actor’s performance to achieve the objective. Thus, the significance of the research is in throwing light on the publicity and semiology of the acting performance in Iraqi theatrical performances.
Research objective
The research aims to
(know the publicity and the semiotics of the acting performance in the presentation of the Baghdadi Circle of Love).
Research boundaries
the time boundary is (2008), the spatial limit is (Iraq Baghdad Governorate), and the geographical limit is (Iraq).
Limitation of the subject
(publicity and the semiotics of the acting performance in the performance of the Baghdadi Circle of Love).
Define terms
Publicity
is derived from the linguistic root (Shahr): "The matter comes from the matter of cutting off, and its fame also, so he became famous, and his fame also became famous, and his fame is also famous, and so-and-so is a virtue for which people became famous, and his sword was famous for the purpose of cutting any basket."(1)
Advertising
is a non-personal technique of conveying ideas and marketing goods and services through a recognised party for a price.(2)
Procedural advertising: is a form of media communication between both the sender and the recipient that utilizes audio and visual promotion that uses the semiotic component of the actor as a promotional sign in order to achieve persuasion and the promotion of a concept or personality on stage.
Second Chapter (Theoretical Framework)
The first subject is the notion of publicity
The establishment of mediaology in the contemporary age was related with several events on the economic, social, and political levels. During this time period, the process of developing communication and communication tools and the extent of their impact on people were distinguished in terms of the method of implementation and the use of effective and effective methods on the consuming public, as well as the introduction of new means that serve the general principles of life. And accurate scientific disciplines in particular, as advertising at this stage is considered one of the most important and important questions of communication due to its effective role in reaching the target audience, as well as influencing and persuading it with the material presented, whether it be a commodity or an idea, as "it is a service by which the advertiser determines the strategy of institutions and helps to acquire markets or makes (look) stars, politicos, or other public figures." He talks in her name and magnifies her(3) It is a method by which a service is provided between the producer and the consumer through advertising mechanisms that target the masses, as marketing activities that provide a service to the producer and assist him in presenting his products through advertising means, because advertising has become a necessity and occupied a large portion
of the commercial markets and developed with economic progress, and through it, trade has become more widespread. It is increasing in the sphere of the industrial revolution and has been compelled to employ advertising as a marketing strategy to promote and provide consumers with good services. In it, advertising discovered a proper atmosphere from which to advertise the commercial items, industries, enterprises, events, and so on that it wishes to promote. And as advertising has evolved, it has become receptive to current technology. In media and critical methods, my authority increases." (4) Consequently, sophisticated advertising has become the most contemporary form of persuasion used to affect the consumer public. Advertising supplies the receiver with services and information designed to acquire his confidence, persuade him, and compel him to choose one product over another. Advertising is an efficient marketing service upon which promotion is founded in order to reach the greatest number of customers in a manner that satisfies their wants and aspirations. It must also impact the customer, since advertising has a "double nature": on the one hand, it strives to educate the recipient about the existence of a product and emphasize its attributes, and on the other hand, it seeks to arouse the recipient's desire to purchase the goods. (5) It is predicated on convincing him in a manner that dictates to the customer his approval of this product and the selection method. It supplies the future with communicative concepts that satisfy the consumer public, regulates a strategy that aims to persuade the consumer via the product's identity, and acts as a mediator between the producer and the consumer based on his successful communication experience, which motivates the buyer to make a buying choice. The effect of the product's identity on the persuasion process and garnering customer support for the persuasive message is what leads to the desired consumer reaction, i.e. the case that is projected on the consumer. That is, a sequence of rhetorical and aesthetic artifacts must cover the function in order to create a broad door to a dream state that must elevate the person in all types of enjoyment and peace. (6) That is, advertising targets the consumer's inclinations that push him to acquire the product and gives it a social value, as it works to directly influence the audience through the information it conveys that helps him acquire the product by meeting all positive requirements through the price, delivery service, and method of receiving the product, which encourages the consumer to purchase. Advertising is one of the ways of communication that influences the spectator, persuades him to buy the product, and compels him to do so. (7) These advertising services are a driving force and help in accomplishing sales objectives for productive clients.
Advertising is of great importance in its relationship with the manufacturer and the consuming public in accomplishing the goals of both the advertising mix as a means of interaction to convey the advertising message with the best known types of services and the latest techniques for interaction for excellence, influence, and persuasion until it reaches the highest level of individual and social satisfaction. (8) Advertising has taken on a new form of communication in many spheres of life; it is no longer limited to the buying and selling process. It has been frequently
debated in recent years in the field of linguistics. And literary as a dialogue with semiotic and deliberative privacy and the capacity to engage with its audience. Publicity has a new perspective in its dimensions as a result of the means of communication and the strategy of persuasion used to achieve the objective.
**Theater audio-visual (audio-visual) advertising**
Contemporary theatrical performances have influenced social and political ideas, which in turn address humanitarian issues through the use of theatrical performance, and through its artistic elements such as (acting text - decoration - fashion - music - accessories - theatrical space) because the theater constitutes an audio-visual image, in which speech is heard And the visual image represented by the performance of the actor, in the sense that the actor and those working with him or her create the illusion that they are one and the same. inside society
It is the actor's responsibility to achieve the act of communication and influence between the advertising material and the recipient, using the suggestive connotations, symbols, and signs that the actor broadcasts through his body through movement, gesture, or his voice, the purpose of which is "his interpretation of these messages, either through audio, visual, or kinetic broadcast systems [...] Or that messages are seen as proof of what the sender is attempting to convey and comprehend, or that the gesture is meant to reflect the sender's own feelings of anguish and relief. And coexisting with it and to achieve this connection in a straightforward manner So, advertising depends on a collection of indicators that the actor transmits in the form of visual pictures in order to produce an image that mimics the recipient's thoughts about the advertising message's content.
**The second topic**
**Publicity and actor performance semiotics**
The performance of the actor in the theatrical performance was linked to the level of employment of the advertising advertisement through the semiotic sign, which is the main driver of the theatrical act. This signifies that it represents the structure of the artistic and aesthetic message of function and an interactive communication system to present ideas related to the environment and society in the production of theatrical performance, relying on the functions of advertising. In the center to achieve the goal through the process of simulation through physical, vocal, and motor expression, and the use of advertising in the theater as a means of communication between the actor and his body and between the actor and the other actor on the one hand, and between the actor and the recipient on the other, as it "provides an integrated approach to the analysis of theatrical work [...] on the basis that each of them constitutes an integrated and interdependent system" The actor's body is the most difficult aspect of the play to decipher because to the
encoded messages and symbols it contains, which separate its content from the audience. The straightforwardness of the linguistic elements of the theatrical discourse. "The actor's image is a dynamic unit of a whole set of signs, it carries what can be the actor's body and his voice And his movements, as well as counted things from pieces of clothing to the theatrical scenery, and in general the actor makes the meanings centered around him, and he can do so to the extent that he can replace all carriers of signs through his actions."
In this way, the semiotic approach helps the means of advertising to announce the material presented through a series of signs produced by the actor in the theatrical performance, and through which the means of advertising communication are employed to achieve their results, meaning that the actor is the central and most important element to achieve the advertising goal, similar to his position in the theater, as "The actor is the most important element in the theater." Advertising has benefited from the semiotics of the actor's performance imbued with indicative signs and the transformation of the written announcement of the material to be presented into a vital visual act of an artistic and aesthetic nature that facilitates the process of receiving and accepting the advertising material. "Audiovisual with a live theatrical performance in which the semantic units occupy an interwoven and interwoven system via the interaction of all components of the theatrical performance, beginning with the text as a literary material and ending with the actor." With the performance, the actor seeks to repair the mark and rehabilitate it to deduce about an item, since it offers the item or material the potential to generate a sign movement that is turned from static to moving by the performance of its motion. What the theatrical discourse presents with its advertising content is existing material, but it sheds light on it by giving it a value that may be greater than what is known, that is, the future is aware of the message, but the semiotics of the actor's motor performance leads him to a different vision than what he wrote in his daily life. "Movement is a sign system whose only core is the connection between meanings and visual pictures. It is a concrete entity that exists in the form of a repertory of impressions stored in the memory of every member of society, which, when used, becomes a fundamental form of communication. Its sign may be turned into symbols and meanings perceivable by the senses (sense of sight), and in this sense, motion becomes a visual representation of activity."
That is, so long as everything on the stage is an indicative sign, whether it is iconic, indicative, symbolic, or encrypted, that attracts attention, then all the signs we see in daily life but do not arouse our interest, insofar as the theater gives them value because we are aware of their existence, and thus we can say that what does arouse our interest is what we do not know exists. By the actor on stage, it is a marketing process for events that he represents via indicators that transmit the actual world, but in a different shape, which meets its purpose by influencing, seducing, and persuading, and attaining the advertising message's objective. What distinguishes advertising in the theater is the process of creating a playful space...
between the recipient and the sender by presenting the message in a manner that activates the receiver to be a participant in the reception process. This means that advertising in the theater, although it aims to announce the material and achieve persuasion, does not present it in a form that is typically associated with advertising. Ready and simple, but dependent on the performative act of the actor to create a semiotic character a space for the future (recipient) to think and analyze in order to decipher the message, as in the case of a semiotic character "The stage and the performance of the actors create by their very nature an artificial situation, which is what necessitates the spectator's reading of the show. Often, the theatrical language compels the spectator to read and interpret its implications, but it must be acknowledged that the visual theatrical language occupies a position between the written language and the visual kinetic language. (17)
Despite what was stated previously regarding advertising's rely on the symbolic signs that leak from the semiotics of the socially constructed act of the actor, which leaves room for interpretation, it is not limited to the symbolism of the physical performance with his visual act; these symbols can also be used in advertising through the actor's verbal performance. The rules that regulate the operation of linguistic signals are identical to those that govern the operation of visual signs. In both instances, there is a material signifier, which serves as the sign, and an instantly accompanying mental notion. Visual signals, like language indications, belong to codes, are arranged in context, and are chosen." (18)
**Theoretical framework indicators**
1. The advertisement feature depends on an exciting theatrical act that excites the receiver and pulls his attention towards the provided information, and produces a state of concentration and communication with the recipient.
2. The acting performance depends on the advertising advertisement in selling and promoting the creative content by appealing the target audience based on characters, conversation and body movement.
3. The tight representational performance delivers the element of persuasion that nurtures the major advertising aim, which in turn creates a reaction from the consuming audience.
4. The advertising aim provided to the public classes in the actor's performance is based on an advertisement that is defined by clarity of thinking, as well as the use of plain language with clear meanings that avoid complicated and encrypted symbols.
5. The advertising act, via the action of the actor, tends to modify the views of the target audience by concentrating on an artistic material that impacts his life, which demands performance talent that draws the receiver with some readiness of the target.
6. The advertising aim is accomplished by depending on the act of performance repetition, which is designed to continually duplicate the message in order to reinforce it and not leave it in the memory of the receiver.
7 The advertising material invests in the performative act of the actor to achieve effective communication between it and the recipient through a set of indications sent in the form of imaginary icons that simulate the mind of the recipient of what the advertising message broadcasts about the content of the presented artistic material.
8 The actor, in his function as the creator of the advertising text, resorts to recitation and ways of influencing votes via diversity and embellishment to grab the attention of the receiver and entice him towards the advertising material.
9 The actor, being the main incubator of the signs, relies on the advertising act as a marketing discourse for the dramatic character through her communication relations with other characters to achieve a persuasive communication contract with the recipient who is accepted through the presented characters and roles.
10 The elements of the theatrical presentation that support the performance of the actor contribute to achieving the advertising goal by creating an influential persuasive space in the recipient about the character of the character and its surrounding circumstances through the signs that the actor broadcasts using the costume and accessories and the accompanying lighting, decoration and other accessories.
11 The advertising discourse depends on the efficacy of the sincerity of the performance and illusion, which is the foundation of interaction and integration between what the actor provides and the impact that happens in the viewers' hall in order to produce the persuasive element with the provided information.
12 The idea of shattering the illusion in the performance of the actor may be used as a promotional strategy that attempts to battle the absence of the mind of the receiver by depending on directness and honesty and without fooling the recipient with events.
13 The advertising discourse in the theater aims to exploit the performance of the actor-narrator as the advertiser, marketer and promoter of the ideas and contents of the article in a smooth and direct way that wins live engagement from the receiver.
Chapter Three
Research Procedures
First the sample size
A submitted example (The Baghdadi Circle of Love) was chosen for presentation based on the following justifications:
a. Its methodology based on the research's title. B. Verify solutions to issue questions.
Second the research instrument
a. The researcher analyzed the research using the indicators of the theoretical framework.
Third Research Methodology
The researcher relied on the descriptive (analytical) approach to analyze the research sample.
Fourth Analysis of the sample a play
The play (The Baghdadi Circle of Love) *
Written and directed by: Awatif Naeem**
Analysis first panel
This painting’s performance act starts with the entrance of the storyteller and his helper, adopting a dialogue-like manner that is sometimes blended with portions from Arabic songs and folklore. The actor who portrays the storyteller and his helper roams the expansive audience with a welcoming demeanor. His actions and argumentative style in the debate make apparent what the city has now become after the fall of the king. And with a certain gesture, he signifies the topic from the opposite of purpose, i.e. he says the opposite of what he implies semiotically.
The act of the body and the discourse in this painting play a major role in the promotion of the provided creative content. The two performers also sought to subvert the rhetorical style of the classical language by using a statement or phrase that disrupts the illusion of the audience. As they transitioned from one verb to the next, the two performers likewise exhibited composure and command of their performance. Action and from topic to topic and style to style smoothly and with high craftsmanship, and the process of performative coding in broadcasting the semantics, which was used to publicize the topic and the absent personalities, came to simulate the recipient's mind and activate his imagination for the purpose of analysis and interpretation.
Through the movements of the narrator and the assistant in space with the transformation of personalities and character, as well as the mere employment of the narrator’s person in marketing the event, the presentation of the show utilized the method of epic theater to publicize the topic of the event. The performers and
their professional abilities to perform in this dramatic genre, as well as their personalities and the personalities of the missing characters via the conversation act they played.
The general dialogues that the performers planned to recite differed in their recitation styles, which were centered on diversity and embellishment. During the development of the encrypted promotional speech, the audio coding disclosed the reverse of what they disguised, as they demonstrate subservience to the king while concealing the contrary via sarcasm and humorous scenarios.
The show is also based on a role-shifting game between the characters, as the actor can play multiple roles, and this was included in the first committee in the rapid transitions in the character of the narrator and his assistant, who alternated between embodying the role of the narrator and the role of the judge, as well as his advisor whose action and personality were linked to the character of the narrator. When he transitions from the narrator's helper to the judge's bailiff whenever the judge speaks, this mechanism demonstrates a purpose to activate the role of the mind and replicate the conscious mental side, which relies on the principle of shattering the recipient's illusion.
**The second panel**
The picture depicts the fallen ruler's return after his allies helped him beat his foes and regain his throne. burying his head, they revolve around the stage and collide with frenzy, dread, and fear, although the performance is performed in a sarcastic, humorous manner. A group of actors enters the space of the event from the center of the spectator's hall - which merged with the stage and participated in the embodiment of the event - led by an actress wearing a costume resembling a dance suit and high-heeled shoes, as she dances to the rhythms of the music, followed by three figures who imitate her example in singing and dancing, and as soon as she crosses the hall and ascends the stage, the three figures follow her example in singing and dancing. Even the theater announces that she is Mrs. Fulton, the governor's spouse. The process of depending on the performance of the actors, giving them a distinct character, and beyond the limitations of the ordinary led to the consolidation of epic alienation and the confirmation of the viewers' illusions being broken.
And with the same alienating character that deceived the personality of the ruler's wife, the character of the accompanying maid is represented by a man who imitates her and comments on her words, just as her kinetic actions are closer to the movement of women than men, as you find the two characters of the lawyer and the lawyer as they follow the ruler's wife in accordance with her desires, so if she dances they dance and if she cries they cry, demonstrating the similitude
The wife invests in flattery before everyone else to announce, in a false and exaggerated tone of weeping, the loss of her son, accusing Noura of kidnapping him, followed by the formation surrounding her by repeating her monologues,
emphasizing the act of promotion by exaggerating what the wife (Fatton) wants to achieve. The judge and his assistant accepted, but the judge and his assistant punned the flattery and presented it in a manner that had several meanings to demonstrate the lack of intelligence and baseness of the ruling class. The entourage follows the dance in which she arrived to the scenes from which she exits. The narrator and his assistant insult the ruler and the state and the oppression that results from it in a humorous manner, as the transformation between the personalities of the judge and his bailiff and between the narrator and his assistant is continuous, sudden, and rapid until the characters are almost avoided and overlap to the extent that it is irrational.
The two attorneys and the judge, Linacha, who is positioned at the top of the spectators' hall, stay in the area of the stage. At such a great distance, the problem of abduction is addressed, with attempts made to convince the judge to encourage and terrify by finding in favor of the ruler's wife. By the second repeatedly, based on reproducing the message to achieve the publicity goal of the ruler and his interests, as well as giving the two characters a unique and special character that is distinct from the rest of the characters, as the performance act of each character marked it with a distinct behavior, so we do not find a character that is similar to another character. After a lengthy discussion with the judge that included news comments and an announcement by the judge and his bailiff about the baseness and baseness of the fragile authority and its stupidity and falsehood in a twisted and sarcastic manner, and between the two attorneys' adoption of the case and their seriousness, the judge announces the court's convening.
Third panel
The artwork constitutes the occasion of the court's convening and relates to the child's status as a significant juvenile. Yet, the acting performance is concealed by the remarks and interventions of (the narrating judge) and (the assistant bailiff), which carry an advertising for a disguised play-based severe critique of the ruler and the verdict. The performance act shown in this picture consists of two sections, each of which is comprised of three blocks: the bottom area represents the action on stage, while the upper section represents the spectators' hall. On the left side of the stage was one of the lawyers, and in the middle of the top of the stage was a block for the character of Fitoun. The acting performance within the blocks supported the lighting spots for each block, which are consistent with the character and condition of the characters, as lighting was one of the primary elements of the show by supporting the actor's performance and the purpose of his advertising act. In contrast, the three positions at the top of the actors' hall consisted of two distinct levels. The first level is a body comparable in performance, style, and movement to the two spots of the ruler and his eyebrow, in contrast to the second level, the spot of the female lawyer.
The mass acting performance was built on efforts and clamor, as everyone sought to show their eligibility, except for Noura's place, which was marked by
immobility, persistence, and inaction. Taking on the world in exchange for her right to the kid whose safety she sacrificed her life to protect.
As for the other blocs, the representative performance was characterized by controversy, procrastination, and clamor by the ruler's wife, Futon, in contrast to the veiled performance and the semiotics of the opposite sign through the manipulation of words, which is based on exposing the ruler and promoting ignorance and incompetence for him, his wife, and his princes who flooded the country with blood in exchange for filling their coffers and stomachs with food. As for Nora's silence, she is questioned about the reasons for the abduction of the boy and the intent on keeping him. Since he is my son, I carried him, kept him, and reared him, she replies from inside the spot with a strong and confident voice, forming the picture at the conclusion of the sentence, a scenario (flashback) that replicates the events in the judge's view. His personality transitions from judge to storyteller.
With the alteration of the lighting, Noura's acting performance transitions to other realms that represent events from the past. It is a public relations advertising with two primary dimensions: showing the disasters she endured and the anguish she endured in order to preserve the kid, and promoting the conduct of the ruling class and what it represents. A ceiling for filth, baseness, and opportunism, since the lighting was, particularly in this instance, a significant backer of the actor's behavior and mood in order to achieve the commercial objective.
The palace characters (Fatoun, the runner-up, and entourage) will come straight when the lighting changes, putting (Nora) at the center of the action. Nora threatens the maids with punishment if they miss any of her jewels or clothing, to the degree that she forgot her infant and left. (Nora) realizes that the youngster has been left behind, so she decides to take him.
By the narrator’s interventions, a dialectical space is created between the stage and the audience, as he switches from the judge and the priest in the audience to Nora on the stage, warning her of the hazards of removing the kid. Nora returns to reject their efforts and insists on keeping the kid.
The actor's performance emphasized exaggeration in describing the outcomes of the events, resulting in persuading. The monologues of the narrator, despite their reflection, include the explicit theme of leaving the kid. Yet, they are more of a test to determine the level of Nora's conscience and love for the kid, which led to the activation of semiotics and performative indicators of exposure. Regarding the event as well as the role of interesting and stimulating circumstances. The actress's performance was distinguished by emotional authenticity and integration with the character, which earned the audience's sympathies despite occasional interruptions from the narrator. Yet, the overall feelings contributed to the enrichment of the renowned content, whether in the primary or subsidiary lines.
The event continues to rise as the acting performance progresses into the character's (Nora) anxious event sequence, as she is encircled by two soldiers who
are searching for the kid in order to murder him as the crown prince of the sovereign. It involves a convincing communication process that convinces her of her right to adopt the kid, despite the fact that she did not give birth to him. Thus, the recipient's interaction and sympathy with her are attained, along with her reliance on performance on delusion and honesty in the majority of her performance behavior, with the exception of occasional flashes in which she breaks that integration to comment or in response to the judge's comment.
She magically disposes of the soldier after a fierce pursuit, such that the audience watches an interruption in space that transforms into (the narrator and his aide), who blame Nora and warn her that they will return. The publicity advertisement to market the artistic material, which states that the world is no longer fine, that the ruling class will reach its goal by any means, and that a poor and simple being like (Nora) has no energy to confront them; however, (Nourainsistence )'s on clinging to the child elicits sympathy for her.
The problem of the narrator's and assistant's compassion unavoidably reflects on the receivers who have reached the stage of persuasion by altering their beliefs to earn Nora's (sympathy) despite not being Nora's biological relatives. A third is formed by the arrival of actors portraying attorneys who face the judge with her admission that she is not the child's mother, while the judge confronts her with the fact that he is the one who sheltered and protected her.
The acting performance of the judge's personality mixes between screaming, hysteria, and self-defense, and he responds violently to the lawyers that he did not know, and builds the performance through the semiotic signs that he showed, that the judge, although he denied knowing him, is sympathetic to her without announcing that to the lawyers, while publicity Regarding that content dimension is evident to the receivers, just as the judge's responses and confrontation define the border between his personality and the personality of the narrator who does not care about the ruler and his fury despite the huge overlap between the two personas.
Nora, who claims vehemently that the kid is hers, is re-interrogated so that the court may confront her with her fiance's view. When he did not return from the battle to clear a place for (Noura) to meet her fiancé, the door remained closed.
To the strains of funeral music, Noura's fiancé emerges with a performance that declares defeat and desertion, as he appears dragging his leg, indicating that he sustained a leg injury as a result of the conflict. Here, the advertising act returns to overlap between two articles that are intended to be promoted, as it reprimands her for her insistence on keeping the child despite her inability to confront the ruler, and the second article is about the war and the injustice he was subjected to and the ugliness of what he witnessed during his tragic experience, forming a new space generated by the space of (flashback). During which the preacher repeats the tragedies he has endured, there is an important presence of space in supporting the act of the actor, as the smoke opens to cover the stage and with the overlapping of colors the actor presents the role of the preacher on a performance embodiment that depicts a hypothetical battle taking place, and here we find that the
performative act of the crowd of actors has been installed to establish three overlapping spaces, in which the preacher repeats the tragedies he has endured. The preacher, who displayed his acting skills in public, falls under the weight of his anxieties and pressures. Ultimately, he exerts pressure on Nora to return the kid, but she flatly refuses; thus, he inquires of Ra Wei, this time as the judge, where this child is. Nora lifts the shroud to reveal a pinpoint of light on the stage, signaling the presence of the kid.
The fourth panel
The panel is formed in contrast to the performance formation of the theatrical blocks, where the wife (Fatoun) and her entourage turn to join the stage in front of the block (Nora) and her fiancé, after the judge announced that the case will be resolved by a match between the two blocks, stating that the child will be placed in the middle. There is a circle, and both (Nora) and the wife (Fatoun) drag the kid to it so that whomever can take him out of the circle will get the child. The advertising goal announces a satirical aspect in its challenge to the mechanism of settling the matter and its illogicity at first, and during that a controversy arises that contributes more and more to achieving the element of persuasion that indicates the eligibility of (Nora), as she wonders how a young child can enter and be a tool for a naive game, and he has no idea what the game is about. She meant to lead this discussion to broaden and beautify the recitation, which caused the audience to empathize with (Nora), but the judge demands that this match be the deciding point and requests that the assistant announce the beginning of the match. The announcement was also given in a humorous fashion, as if it were an announcement for a Dabkeh match, and in the style of the auctioneer, utilizing the side of the game with words, diction, and movement.
The match begins and the two masses of the performing formation of the actors rage to revolve around the center of the circle, and the dragging process takes place in a symbolic manner to try to attract all the mass of the child to its side, but the mass of the wife (Fatun) was moving as if entering a wrestling arena with physical expressions that suggest strength, pride, and non-hesitation, in exchange for a mass (Noura) and her fiancé, during which the performance was interrupted. The withdrawal procedure begins, which leads quickly to the triumph of Fatun’s wife when she drags the boy with all her might in return for his freedom from (Noura), who refuses to remove him out of dread of him. To remove the youngster and re-announce the start, the colors of the supporting lighting combine with the clear environment and encouragement provided by the two groups around the lighting area. They are not equal in number, strength, or resolve, as the members of the wife’s formation (Fatun) rise up in a dance performance style that causes them to revolve around the spot as if on an African hunt, and here (Noura) collapses and screams (I cannot) as she delivers a monologue in a performance style. It relies on the mother’s honesty, integration, and adoption of the kid’s individuality while she sobs, demonstrating her love and devotion to the child. Here,
the court intervenes and declares that she has lost custody of the boy, prompting her to accept that he should be with others, healthy and uninjured.
On the stage side, the formation of the wife (Fatoun) displays an expressive performance behavior that implies joy by providing a dance that encircles the kid and symbolically raises him into the air, glad of their win over the impoverished (Noura). Between (Noura) and (Futun) along with a logical and sophisticated side when it was announced that the child is the right of (Noura) because she refused to drag the child while she was not his mother out of fear for him in exchange for the real mother's indifference, announcing the results of the advertising goal that the mother is the one who raised, sacrificed, and stayed awake, and not the one who gave birth, the child was returned to the real mother. As this goal ensures, it provided results for the sub-goal that was marketed along the show, which was walking in parallel with the main goal, indicating that the mother wife does not have the capacity to embrace her child, and this reflected the state and the ruling and its overlords, indicating their incompetence, as he linked the show and through the performance act. In both situations, (according to the narrator, the judge), the mother is employed by the government, and the children were abandoned.
The (Futun) bloc is once again dissatisfied with the verdict, threatening the judge with the harshest punishment if he does not change his opinion, and here (the judge) reveals his indifference to what will occur after adopting puns and coding in their confrontation to identify here his personality with the personality of the impartial narrator as an unbiased observer. Once he is released from the control of the king and the state, he purposefully instructs his bailiff to toss the law books, which is a sign of rejection and opposition to the system. where he originated, the forms transform into puppet-like figures that freeze in place. The issue of the accepted logical judgment is that the child belongs to his mother, who gave birth to him and with whom he has a blood relationship, whereas the advertising discourse presented by the show in promoting a different idea intended to adapt the view of the recipient towards the desired new idea, which aims to publicize a larger and more profound idea that relates to the state. And the referee adopting the motivating platform that illuminates and replicates the recipient's thinking.
Chapter Four / Research Results
Findings and Discussions
1- The presentation was built on the creation of the advertising feature on an exciting and inspiring performance for the receiver, and it originated from advertising about the injustice and dominance the people endured.
2- The method of advertising and publicizing the artistic material in the show relied on two levels of the interaction between the presented material and the event (dialogue, the body) through to the process of playing, movement and even sometimes dancing escorting the conversation throughout the show period.
3- The act of persuasion was achieved in the show through the high performance skills of the actors presenting the theatrical show, but it did not establish a simultaneous rebound act on the stage of events because the acting performance did not present this issue to the audience during the expression.
4- The commercial campaign showed concepts that are defined by their clarity and simplicity, but they were presented in a manner that provided a large field for the semiotic performance act by means of puns and word manipulation. Also, the performance mixed the articulate language and colloquial vernacular from the previous two acts.
5- The act of the semiotic performance of the actors on publicity was established in providing creative material that affects the immediate life situations, which assisted to adjusting the views of the viewers.
6- It was underlined in the presentation that the message be replayed often and in various locations to accomplish the advertising aim and to encourage the content to be promoted.
7- The publicity discourse invested the actor's performance in the show to achieve communication through a set of transmitted indications that simulate the recipient's mind through the embodiment of action and encrypted dialogue, which refers us to multiple indications and references (such as injustice, dominance, war, and death) in the play.
8- The performance act in the program focused on the aspect of recitation in promoting the advertising discourse in order to capture attention and concentrate on the proclaimed messages.
9- The efficacy of the acting performance in marketing the character, who comprises the primary means of advertising and is responsible for transmitting messages to the audience and convincing them, influenced the creation of theatrical characters.
10- The elements of the theatrical production that supported the actor's performance contributed effectively to achieving the show's publicity objective, as the lighting played a central role in establishing the atmosphere incubating the events, during which the smoke mingled with some of the terminology that furnished some of the visual scenes.
11- In several parts of the play, the performers depended on illusion to create integration and earn the recipient's compassion by acting on illusion and breaking it continually to generate sympathy via (Nawara) speeches, then returning to shattering it to activate the recipient's mental side.
12- The acting performance relied on the principle of breaking the illusion through the interventions of the narrator and the sudden shift from the classical language to the colloquial dialect, as well as the songs that the narrator performs, which are considered as a publicity stunt against the absence of the mind of the recipients.
13- The advertising discourse progressed towards investing the performance of the actor-narrator in selling the material to be transmitted and promoting ideas and themes.
Conclusions
1- The advertising discourse adopts multiple and countless means to reach the promotional goal of any material or idea, which makes it intertwined with the different fields of life.
2- Reaching the element of persuasion and adapting the collective opinions towards social ideas and practices is the goal of the advertising goal.
3- The language of communication that links the line of publicity with the receiver varies, which can be written, audio, or visual, as required by the promoted material.
4- Advertising is usually subject to the empowering and controlling authority over the media, being the broadest field and the fastest way to attract the target audience.
5- The spatial and temporal dimension, as well as the customs and traditions of a particular society, determine the means of publicity and the formulas that it adopts to achieve its desired goal.
Recommendations
The researcher suggests convening a scientific conference or symposium on media work processes and their intersection with the visual arts.
The researcher proposes
(studying the performance qualities of the actor in promotional advertising.)
& (studying the development of a method to assess the impact of children's theater on elementary school pupils through advertising about educational ideals).
List the sources and references
5. Al-Tamimi, Abd al-Zahra Sami: Theatrical communication and communication, the interactive theater as a model, (Basra: Dar al-Funun wa al-Adab for printing, publishing and distribution, 2020).
6. Al-Hassan, Issa Mahmoud: Commercial Promotion of Goods and
6) Saad Benkrad and others: previous source, p. 10.
9) Mariam Al-Shanqeeti: a previous source, p. 23.
11) Abd al-Zahra Sami al-Tamimi: Theatrical communication and communication, the interactive theater as a model (Basra: Dar al-Funun wa al-Adab for printing, publishing and distribution, 2020), p. 37.
13) Elaine Aston and George Savona: Theater and Signs, translated by: Sebai El-Sayed, revised by: Mohsen Moselhi, (Cairo: Academy of Arts - Theater
** Awatif Naim Salman: Born on September 8, 1946, an Iraqi artist, actress, director and academic researcher. She holds a PhD in theater directing. She wrote and directed many cultural and dramatic programs and serials for Radio Baghdad. She wrote several serials and drama evenings for Iraq TV. |
Course: **CA4007 Självständigt arbete 40 hp**
2017
NAIP, Joint Master for New Audiences and Innovative Practice
Institution för klassisk musik
Supervisor: Sven Åberg
---
Māra Peiseniece
**Accordion in Action**
How to develop my artistic skills applying theatrical choreography with accordion to a performance
A written reflection within the degree project that is also documented with a video that can be found here: XXX
## Contents
1. **Introduction** .................................................................................................................. 1
1.1 My artistic background ................................................................................................. 1
1.2 Idea ............................................................................................................................. 3
2. **Background** .................................................................................................................... 5
2.1 Movement in instrumental music .................................................................................. 5
2.2 Actors-musicians ......................................................................................................... 8
3. **Method** .......................................................................................................................... 12
3.1 Procedure .................................................................................................................... 12
3.2 Specifics adding choreographed movement to accordion performance ....................... 13
3.3 Our choreographed movements ................................................................................... 15
3.4 Difficulties .................................................................................................................. 19
4. **Result** ............................................................................................................................ 23
5. **Reflection and summary** ............................................................................................. 25
5.1 The Outcome ................................................................................................................ 25
6. **Critical afterthought** .................................................................................................... 27
6.1 What to do to get better outcome? ............................................................................... 27
6.2 Possibilities, what’s next? ............................................................................................ 27
**References** ...................................................................................................................... 30
Books..................................................................................................................................... 30
Internet................................................................................................................................. 30
1. Introduction
1.1 My artistic background
When I was trying to learn one especially tricky part in a musical piece my former teacher told me "Music is not a circus" and took that part away from the composition. I believe that if he would see me rehearsing for my master’s examination performance he would like to remind me the same thing again, and I would agree - music is not circus, it is a serious form of art and musical perfection should always be appreciated and maintained. On the other hand, there is nothing bad in trying out interesting and surprising ways of playing music instruments and no one can surely predict what effect the outcome would give to the performance and musicians growth.
For a long while I have been interested in creating a performance where apart from music making I am taking physically and emotionally active part in everything what happens on stage and studies in KMH, NAIP program have given me such opportunity.
My first experience performing music and moving (acting) at the same time was during the NAIP introduction course in The Hague in a performance with Israel Castillo, Artjoms Martjanovs, Ty Constant and Philip Curtis. In this performance, we demonstrated a legend about Maculele from Brazilian folklore. We moved across the stage, playing instruments at the same time, and performed an improvised fight scene. During rehearsals, I practiced how to keep certain dynamics in my playing whilst moving, putting accents when I am supposed to attack and reacting to movements made by opponents. During the performance, we did not operate with real physical contact. The intention of the movement should guide the response. This experience was so intense and breath-taking that I decided to deepen in it and maintain the focus on the intersection between theatre and music, movement and instrument during my further artistic activities.
During my studies, I have made several attempts to incorporate movement into musical performances. In a workshop with Nina Hartes (a professor with background as a dancer from Norway who is working with musicians in Norwegian Academy of Music and in Det Multinorske theatre school) for example, I gained quite a lot of experience working with my instrument in unusual ways and trying to be musician and dancer at the same time. It was amazing to explore alternative ways how to approach music instrument that I have used to play only in one way. Performance for T. Lundquist “Ballad” with Milan Rehak, Artjoms Martjanovs and Madara Peiseniece was my first attempt to create a visual performance from a written musical piece. During the rehearsals I and Artjoms explored the music and connected it with his dance and my movements with the accordion. Another performance, “Inter x logues”\(^1\) with Ruben Fenemore, Miriam Goldkuhl, Henrika Kurkimaki (2 dancers and 2 musicians) was based on musical improvisation and movement intentions. During the performance, I understood that it is easy to create and maintain dialogue between me, other musician and dancers if the music I play is improvised, if all the participants have a clear idea of what is happening in a certain moment and if we are engaged in finding a solution for whatever issues that might emerge.
During my studies, I also had several opportunities to join musical-theatrical performances and explore the field, seeing how experienced producers lead the process. These shows were “Varjoje ja Tomua” with 3\(^{rd}\) year students from Theatre Academy in Helsinki and “Everything goes to hell anyway” with 2\(^{nd}\) year students from Det Multinorsk theatre school in Oslo. In Oslo, I explored how to play accordion if it is not fixed on me, how the choreography can be added to my playing and how to continue playing while shifting from standing to lying position.
All this experience has helped me in creation of my own performance, together with actress Miriam Goldkuhl, as well as deepening my interest about performers and shows with mobile musicians.
1.2 Idea
“The musician’s body is not just the tool for producing exquisite musical sound. The performer’s musical thoughts and feelings are embodied in a holistic sense; transformed into a multimodal display in order to express and communicate with others.”
For a long while I have thought what is wrong with the concept of traditional music concert situation, where the main attention, as I see it, is to the music per se and the performer is considered, as a tool for fulfilling audience’s expectations to hear technically perfect, emotional and gazing musical performance, forgetting the performer’s physical existence. This kind of contemplation has lead me to start exploring the performance from the physical point of view, yet being a musician.
When I entered the field of theatre and stage movement I was interested in questions like “how musicians can contribute to performance in other ways than making music” or “how could musicians interact with actors, dancers or the audience?” I decided that I would like to gain a palette of different ways of how to contribute to the performance and use this knowledge in making my own.
Taking a look around what is happening in the world, I discovered that apart from the traditional music concert settings, people nowadays can experience various experimental and unusual music performances where the instruments and music itself are approached and performed in new ways. In a performance with musicians and dancers (or other stage performers) on stage
---
simultaneously, musicians can be perceived in many other ways than being a background setting, props, or just creators of the sound.
In this work, I will write about some artists (musicians, clowns, actors) that are operating in this field and their performances that have drawn my attention. Afterwards I will describe my discoveries while working with Miriam Goldkuhl to add theatrical choreography to our performance “The Dress Up”.
**My question:** How to develop my artistic skills applying theatrical choreography with accordion to a performance?
**Keywords:** Accordion, music, performance, gestures, choreography, theatre
2. Background
2.1 Movement in instrumental music
In a live music performance one can witness different types of movements – gestures that, as defined by Godøy and Leman, can be divided in 4 groups\(^3\): sound-producing, communicative, sound facilitating and sound accompanying. These gestures can be more or less expressive according to the musical piece, musician’s personality and other factors. Many composers have explored movement in music, particularly in the music-theatre works, that developed in the twentieth century, creating Music-Theatre and Instrumental Theatre performances\(^4\). Gestures and other onstage movements have been used as a visual complement to the performance.
Considering my study field, I decided to take a look on how accordionists and other instrumental musicians have used movement in their performances. I came across several accordionists, other instrumental musicians, clowns and actors who have explored the field. Often the movement is extended in collaboration with other artists or playing the instrument in unusual ways. Analysing performances of these artist, I gained both ideas and inspiration on how to create my performance, and understanding about what kind of self-expression on stage I would like to avoid.
From the world of accordionists, one man who has experimented a lot with accordion (and the possibilities that it receives when united with electronics) is Finnish musician Kimmo Pohjonen. One of his most popular shows is called Accordion Wrestling\(^5\). In this performance music is combined with choreographed movements by fighters and Pohjonen himself. He is not only providing music for their show but also takes part in all of it. His role as an
---
\(^4\) Whittle James William, Music is Theatre: Devising Musical Performance (University of York, 2017)
actor holds the same function as for wrestlers. He leads fights as a judge, gets hoisted into the air as he plays, fights with wrestlers himself and runs across the stage if it is needed, whilst simultaneously continuing to play. A great advantage in his music, and something that allows him to move more freely, is that his accordion is provided with a very good sound system. The accordion is amplified through speakers and special effects allow it to be as strong and continuous as he wants. His shows inspire me by the vitality that an accordionist can add to the performance moving around freely and interacting with other performers. In one of his interviews, Pohjonen has also mentioned that he has made a lot of crazy performances while he was younger, for example there was one instance, whilst he was playing and spinning with his accordion, where he moved so fast that he fell and broke his leg.
During XIV international accordion music festival in Limbazi, May 9-12 2017, I had the opportunity to see a performance of accordion ensemble “Tutti” from Ukraine, a group of 5 female accordionists. I took a closer look at one of their videos that are possible to see on YouTube, a compilation of their performances, published in year 2013. Usually they perform standing, dressed in showy, lookalike costumes and almost every composition is complemented with slightly choreographed and simple dance steps. Movements in their performances are added as a decoration and do not create any narrative. This way the inappropriate movement seems to lower the quality of performance.
Another example that is connected to accordion music is a clown duo Koblikov & Gashuk (Ukraine, Odessa). Accordion and clown is quite a usual combination but these artists use accordion while they are performing tricks
---
6 Interview with Pohjonen Kimmo, The Telegraph, by Ivan Hewett Jun 4 2012, accessed Jan 26, 2017
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=968916g-DG0
like balancing a juggling pin on head or standing on accordion and juggling while the other is playing. This performance demands both strength and balance from the person who is playing the accordion and a good balance from the one who is on top of it. This performance encouraged me to try out and add physically demanding and challenging choreographies with accordion to my performances.
Other musicians as well have explored the field of movement within music. The ones who seemed very interesting for me were L'Orchestre de Contrebasses and composer Georges Aperghis.
In the performance in Paris (2011), L'Orchestre de Contrebasses, double bass sextet, show a whole new approach to double bass performance. It is a show with very wisely set choreography, effective light design and theatrical scenes with different characters. Musicians play their instruments upside down and, as their heads are not visible, the setting makes a mystical effect. One can imagine big bugs or other cartoon-like characters. To make the interaction between characters more specific, they make them fight with endpin spikes that, when the instrument is upside down, now look like an antenna of the big bugs. Choreography is added for everything – change of focus from one person to another by turning the whole body of the instrument, leaving and entering the stage. They create the scenery using just their instruments and light. In some moments, double basses seem to be light as feathers when musicians are swinging them between their arms to create rhythm. This show is a great source for inspiration and admiration, particularly, showing how the instrument specifics and physicality can be used in innovative ways to enrich the performance.
---
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kjiwg9-Igfk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nf1_QXpS7I
Georges Aperghis is a Greek composer working primarily in the field of experimental musical theatre. Information about him is taken from his webpage\textsuperscript{10}. Already his first attempts at music theatre were demonstrating a fascination with the relationship between music, words and the stage. After founding the Atelier Théâtre et Musique (ATEM), he began creating performances that used both actors and musicians. He based works, created gradually in the rehearsal process, on everyday events transported to a poetic, often absurd and satirical world. He treated voice, instrument, movement, text and staging equally, eschewing standard theatrical and orchestral hierarchies. In his composition Retrouvailles\textsuperscript{11} (a duet using speech, movement, objects (glass, bottle, chair, table), creating simple and complex rhythmical structures) – he experiments with simple movements and the impact they have when put in a sequence with other movements and repeated. Exaggerated movements give a fresh dimension to the performance. The performance is very intense. Each scene flows in to next one rapidly. For me it is inspirational how Aperghis makes actors interact with each other in ways that are familiar for everyone – clapping hands, clapping on another person’s body, talking. The usual movements suddenly have a broader significance and give a new layer to the performance, a space where one can try to find an alternative message beyond what is played and showed.
### 2.2 Actors-musicians
Since my intention was to make a performance in collaboration with an actress I was interested to take a look on how the development of musician’s role takes place on the theatre stage. This led me across the term actors-musician.
\textsuperscript{10} Webpage of composer Georges Aperghis, accessed Jan 8, 2017
http://www.aperghis.com/english.html
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w-uIWgHbIKE
During the theatre project in Theatre school in Helsinki I discovered Jeremy Harrisons book “Actor-Musicianship”\textsuperscript{12}. He describes the history of actors-musicians appearing on the theatre stage in Great Britain, the most successful directors, playwrights and theatre companies in the field, some of the performances, the specifics using actors-musicians (and musicians-actors) in shows and gives examples on exercises that could be applied for actors-musicians to feel natural with their instruments in play. Actor-musicianship does not always stand for movement with the instrument, but mostly deals with expression and connection with necessary character. The information of their experience and practice turned out to be useful for me and the actress as soon as we started to blend choreographies in our performance.
The use of music instruments in shows has forced producers and actors to use their ingenuity and create, discover new ways to use, play, and treat instruments in ways that are appropriate for a shows narrative, stage setting, and characters. I was amazed by the great and inspiring examples how actors solve different situations, for example using accordion as a snail shell or building barricades from music instruments.
From the author, I also learned some things related to use of instruments in theatre play that should be considered, creating a performance. For example, a phrase “I also found several theatres use music in their plays as they consider that the music in some ways diminishes the intellectual power of play” seemed warning for me as we (me and actress) wanted our performance to be not only humoristic as it sometimes tended to be, but as well mindful and attentive.
Acknowledging the fact that the process of writing music for a play with actors-musicians is different\textsuperscript{13} was useful for my rehearsals as well. In comparison with a usual play with musical accompaniment, the music has to
\textsuperscript{12} Harrison Jeremy (2016) *Actor Musicianship*, London: Bloomsbury Publishing
be added at early stages of rehearsal process as actors have to study their parts by heart and blend with the character.
To get the image of how musicians or actors-musicians act and deal with their instruments in plays, I decided to analyse one of the most popular actor-musician show “Sweeney Todd” and one musician-actor offering by Matthew Sharp.
“Sweeney Todd” revival by John Doyl, Broadway 2005\(^{14}\)
In this play all characters are played by actors-musicians. All actors-musicians who are on stage are present, take active part in what is happening on stage. They never lose the character. Instruments are associated with the characters as well – tuba is played by the humoristic lady in the shop, cello by the love couple. Actors move with their instruments on stage, sit, play, take them away and continue acting if it is needed. Additionally, small movements that incorporate the instrument, but don’t involve the actual playing of said instrument, are used to provide an extension of character. Furthermore, there are some actors who do not need to deliver proficiency of playing musical instrument as the main driving force is the emotion and story.
“Tommy Foggo-Superhero”, The Egg 2015\(^{15}\), a solo performance for children by Matthew Sharp\(^{16}\).
In this performance, the actor treats the cello partly as another person. He is talking to it, acting as if the cello is talking to him and makes it fly in his hands. He is using the box of his instrument as a prop – sitting on it, climbing, drawing faces on it and speaking to it, making an imaginary underwater planet from it. He uses a loop station so that music continues while he is speaking,
\(^{16}\) Matthew Sharp is an internationally recognized classical performance artist and director.
walking around, playing melodies or singing. The cello is fixed vertically so that in any moment he can approach it and start playing. There is total freedom in music making and speaking at the same time.
3. Method
During rehearsals on my own and with actress Miriam Goldkuhl I wanted to explore and luckily include in our performance several choreographed movements with the instrument whilst maintaining playing. At the start of the rehearsal process I was focused on what choreographed movements are possible for me and Miriam to perform. We occasionally chose several movements that seemed interesting and attainable for us considering our strength and specifics of the instrument. When we identified the movements we wanted to use, we had to find appropriate moments for them in the narrative and add the proper music material to them, according to the story. Movements should fit both the situations and characters
3.1 Procedure
The choreographed movements we chose were the pyramid, balancing, contra force and bridge. To acquire movements, we created a procedure that consisted of several steps:
1) Trying the movement without the instrument.
Acknowledging the force, balance and position required to perform the movement.
2) Adding the instrument.
Acknowledging the differences and difficulties that emerge doing movements with the instrument, for example the change of balance, weight and support that I can possibly give with hands and minimization of space for actress for placing feet.
3) Playing improvised music with left hand and maintaining the movement.
4) Playing improvised music with both hands.
5) Finding the most appropriate music and adding it to the movement.
This defines how long the movement should last.
3.2 Specifics adding choreographed movement to accordion performance
Fusing accordion music with choreographed movement and departing from the traditional way of playing it whilst seated demands extra strength due to the weight and size of a professional instrument. Consideration of changes in body balance and the specifics of accordion mechanism in creating the sound should be taken in account.
Physical strength
Already playing accordion while seated demands physical strength from the musician and correct position of body and instrument as the weight of a professional instrument is ca. 12-15 kg. Playing accordion requires vitality of the backbone, shoulders, arms and good stamina. The same as other instruments, accordion should be played with relaxed body to ensure a long performance\(^\text{17}\). If one chooses to play standing, the weight of the left part of the accordion is not based on left leg, but on the shoulders and left hand instead. The bellows are moved in different way as they cannot be supported by the opposite leg. If the decision is to walk while playing, each step after a while will be felt in the shoulders. The bellows must be led smoothly, steps should not disturb the music (unless they are supposed to be so). Playing in a lying position limits the possibilities to manipulate the bellows further. Both in Pohjonen and in the clown performance it is obvious that the artists need physical effort to do the movements they use.
Size of accordion
Depending on the model, the size of accordion differs. It could be larger, wider or higher and that makes considerable impact on the musician’s freedom of movement. Some accordionists, because of the height of treble
\(^{17}\) Anzaghi Luigi (1978) *Complete Method for Accordion*, London: Sam Fox Publishing
side of accordion, cannot see what they are playing with the right hand. Others cannot reach the front side of bellows with right hand to make the drum effect. I did not have any of those difficulties with my instrument until I tried to play it while lying on the ground. In this position, it tends to move in whatever direction – to the left or right side or towards the head.
Balance
Putting on the accordion, one can feel how the balance of one’s own body is changing. It is both because of the weight of instrument and its placement in front of the body. When I joined the performance in Oslo I experienced how hard it is to spin around as fast as the actors did as soon as I put my instrument on. Additionally, I had to take up much more space than they do to perform the movement. These things should definitely be taken into account when making a choreography for accordionist-performers.
The left-hand rule
As the bellows control dynamics and tension of sound the left hand should almost all the time be fixed to the instrument to provide and control air pressure in them. This means that only the right hand can be used to provide support for the body, for example, while going up from the lying position.
3.3 Our choreographed movements
The pyramid
Practicing this movement, we used the procedure that is described above. As this was the first time I was doing this kind of contra force movement, it was quite hard to keep balance when the actress got up to the position on my upper thighs. It was also significant to train the position of my hands to assist with upwards movement. Adding the accordion to this movement turned out to be more complicated than expected. First the weight of the accordion shifted our balance. Then it turned out that, because of the size of the accordion, the actress did not have enough space to put her feet as the edges of instrument were exactly at the place where her feet used to be. Once the position was reached, playing with both hands turned out to be quite easy, however the position itself could not be held for a long time because of the weight and pressure on the legs.
Figure 1 Pyramid
Balancing
The starting point for this movement is lying on the ground. At the start, we practiced this movement without accordion. My legs and hands are stretched up to give support for the actress. She places my feet as a support under her hips, pushes herself away from the ground and starts balancing on my feet and hands. When balance is found, the left hand and later both hands are released. On this level, the main thing we had to learn was how to find balance, where my feet should be placed, how stretched my legs are.
When the instrument was added the first thing that I understood was that I have to practice playing in lying position. I had to find different techniques for smoothly changing the direction of bellow movement as the weight of the left-hand side together with gravity make them move in unusual ways and there is no point of support. The next complication comes when the actress tries to find her base from my legs. Because of the size of the accordion I have to find new way to raise my legs in comfortable and safe manner because doing it in the required position makes the accordion move away from legs and into my face. Balancing over the accordion feels reckless but safe after a while. The next step is playing with the left hand and thereafter with both.
Contra force
At the start, when thinking to use movement connected to contra force, we were thinking about balancing by leaning backwards whilst maintaining grip of each other’s arms. In this case, we should use the same procedure as previously outlined to learn how to do it, but as the positions did not appear visually attractive for us we decided to skip it. After a while, the movement did occasionally appear while we were practicing transition out from pyramid. As this movement does not demand an active movement from me it is technically easy to accomplish. The only things to keep in mind is being straight in the body and trusting in the strength of the actress. As I am not leaning too much in my body, the bellows are in quite the same position as whilst standing.
Bridge
At the start, to do a bridge with the accordion I considered using an extra belt to fasten the accordion to my body so that when I enter this position the instrument does not fall in my face. It was needed when I did the movement with both hands, but as I added music to it and started playing left hand, it turned out that I can do the movement without the extra safety belt because my left hand keeps it in a controllable position. Another problem that appeared was the loss of support for the bellows. Playing while the bellows are opening was relatively easy and similar to usual practice, but playing “in”, the right side of accordion resulted in no support for the right arm or leg so it drifts to the right side of the body, too much so for maintaining the movement. In order to keep the movement in performance, it was necessary to play in this position only while I am opening the bellows to maximal amplitude and then go out from the position to continue with the next movement.
3.4 Difficulties
Practicing these movements, I came across several things that I did not realize before. The difficulties of using movements with the accordion in the performance arose from the physicality of instrument (size, weight), complexity of entering and exiting movements (transitions), unifying movements with music and finding the right place for them in the narrative.
Before starting rehearsals, I theorized that the weight of the instrument will cause the most problems, but in turned out that this was not too much of a problem as long as I did not remain in challenging postures (for example the pyramid or balancing) for too long. The hardest movement from the point of weight was the pyramid, because I had to cope with both the weight of instrument and actress. Furthermore, the left-hand side of the instrument loses support from the legs in such movements as bridge and the left hand is forced to carry all the weight.
The size of instrument was not a great problem for me. I can imagine that there would be less problems in the bridge and balancing movement if I was using a smaller and lighter instrument because, for example in bridge, gravity is not holding the instrument in its usual position anymore so the instrument starts moving “up” towards my face. To perform the balancing movement, I raise my legs causing the instrument to press up into my face. If I was using a smaller accordion the distance between accordions upper side and my head in both of these movements would be much bigger and would not cause any discomfort, though the movements are realizable this way as well.
The unpredictable and unsupported movement of the instrument made some movements much more complicated than I thought before. In the bridge, I could play only when I was opening the bellows, because playing “in” instrument had no support point, it slid off my body and frustrated the balance. Playing whilst lying and balancing were the hardest movements technically to perform. The most optimal way of handling the instrument
whilst lying was putting it maximally on chest, keeping left elbow tight to body, playing with minimal amplitude in bellows and pressing right hand keyboards with fingers so that they provide the base for changing the movement in bellows.
**Transitions** of entering and exiting movements turned out to be the clumsiest part to perform as the music usually is suited to something that benefits the narrative not just to hide or illustrate rising up or gradually laying down. To avoid problems of uneven sound I decided to perform some transitions in silence or perform the change of position in a small natural gap between two musical materials. It refers to transitions such as walking-lying down and lying down-sitting on knees. The sound can disappear for a moment or there can be an accent – it depends on how smooth the actress manages to enter these movements.
In the balancing movement, the transition for rising up was hard to accomplish without causing a disruption to the music.
In the pyramid movement, both while the actress was rising up and climbing down, it was difficult to keep the same air pressure in the bellows and make it smooth. After several practices the actress decided, as it is not possible to do it in smooth way, we should apply expressions of character to it so that the clumsiness feels staged in the movement.
Limitations regarding **music** and demands of the **narrative** in performance. A lot of movements are easy to do if the music is loud and chaotic and the mood of the occasion in the performance allows musicians to go beyond the borders with self-expression and attitude. Whereas at moments when atmosphere is calm and peaceful and the music is soft, the movement or change of it should happen smoothly, something that is often much more challenging to perform. At this point of our rehearsal process I understood that the principle that I should always continue playing while making a movement has exceptions according the narrative.
4. Result
The choreographed movements we explored turned out to be suitable for our performance – it was possible for me and Miriam to perform them whilst continuing playing accordion and we could reasonably place them in the plot. People who saw the final performance and run-throughs gave positive feedbacks about our inventions. The movements gave little spiciness and made our show slightly unusual. We managed to maintain the necessary character whilst doing the movements and give each of them a specific mood: the bridge – craziness, balancing – freedom, pyramid – power. It was essential to keep these emotions in mind and show them – practicing it I understood how important for a musician who wants to perform in frames of theatre is to gain acting skills.
I consider that the procedure we created and used to acquire the choreographed movements was useful. The movements we used were based on balance, flexibility and contra force. We used our current physical qualities therefore extra training to gain these skills were not needed. We had to learn how to perform movements and then find the smoothest and effortless method of doing them compelling and with required character. Although we did not do specific exercises doing this kind of movements it was always essential to warm up whole body before rehearsal. Even if it was not hard to perform them the body was under tension and the activities demanded physical effort that is not natural for it – twisting, bending, squeezing.
As something that did not work out as conceived I should mention the silent transitions. Whilst imagining our performance, my idea was to smoothly blend all the movements into the plot, maintaining playing. As it turned out impossible for us, the transitions in and out from the movements now seem to be pointed out, a little too noticeable for the audience. Some transitions would be possible to perform playing tone cluster or making other sound effects, but the plays narrative in places where we decided to use them ask for different kind of musical illustration.
After “The Dress up” performance on 11th May in Svarta Lådan I received a lot of positive feedback from the audience about the performance and the choreographed movements that we used. Some people were particularly surprised that I managed to continue playing whilst doing them. I consider that audiences positive review is a great prove that it was worth using the choreographed movements in the performance.
5. Reflection and summary
5.1 The Outcome
I learned how to add and added choreographed movements with accordion to my performance. It felt interesting widening the repertory of movements I can perform with my instrument and I would like to explore and learn doing other things as well. If I would make a performance with other accordionists I could apply the procedure we used now to teach them. For this show with actress we explored movements that were easy to learn and perform as we used the physical skills that we already had, but I am sure, that there exist a lot of other movements (leaning backwards whilst maintaining grip of each other’s arms (a movement that we did not use in this performance) could be complimented by rotation and provide a nice visual effect; making pyramid changing the positions – the actress as a base and me with accordion climbing up; cartwheel on one hand using smaller accordion) that we could try both using the abilities that we have now and practicing new skills – gaining more power, better balance and awareness of each other and ourselves.
Furthermore, I understood that I will not do the movements I learned if there will not be a good reason for it. A movement that is done apart from the moves that provide music making has to have a purpose and be grounded in a narrative, associated with characters or have another reason for applying it. This realization occurred when I analysed performances of other musicians and actors. In ensemble TUTTI performance movements are added as a decoration and does not create any narrative. In that case, I consider that the movements are not necessary. They make the performance as a show. It looks like doing movements just to differ from other artists, show costumes and gain attention from audience that can be hooked by visual image. Whereas Matthew Sharp does not add any extraordinary movements with cello to his play (although I believe, he could) as it is not needed for the story.
I believe this research gave a new dimension to our performance. As I and my accordion had characters of our own it did not turn out to be actresses’ solo
performance with music accompaniment, but 2 people performance. We experienced a new way of collaboration with the actress as she knew that she could refer to me during performance, feel and use my presence, create eye and physical contact.
After taking a closer look to movements that musicians do onstage with their instruments and trying my hand in doing some and adding them to a performance I understood how big the importance of the theatrical aspect that performance gains this way is. I think it is a great advantage, but adding it to performance the musician should be aware that now the audience is considering one not only as a musician but as an actor as well. This demands musician to step into a certain character, use mimics, be fully present. As I noticed in the Sweeney Todd performance, for actors it is natural to maintain a certain character while they are on stage whether they talk or play music instruments. Ordinary musicians are used to sit with a stone face, stare in sheet music, let their eyesight roam around the room. That is understandable because musicians from their childhood have been thought that the main thing they are doing is making music. And there is no big difference in his/her physical presence on stage. Musician comes on the stage, goes till his chair, bows, sits, plays the piece, stands up, bows again and leaves the stage. And that is it. Basically, in a usual concert situation it even does not seem strange. It is a tradition. And if a musician is just playing it does not seem wrong. The audience has used to exclude the musician from their view and concentrate on the rest of the visible action but if the musician uses a movement that could be considered theatrical, the behaviour that is more associated with actor should be applied.
6. Critical afterthought
6.1 What to do to get better outcome?
I am considering use of a smaller instrument as it would be lighter, smaller in size and give more freedom in movement.
During rehearsals (and afterwards seeing Matthew Sharp’s performance), I understood that there would be more possibilities to add movement to performance if I would use loop station. The continuity of music could be maintained this way and I could move freer, adding just some rhythmical elements or playing melody on top of it. It allows to take off the instrument if needed as well.
Another thing that could help with technical problems would be wireless amplifying. In that way, it would not demand so much force to make the music sound powerful and there would not be any difference if I play facing the audience or if I am turning my back to them. A disadvantage for amplifying would be that every smallest change of the bellows would be noticeable and that is not always needed.
6.2 Possibilities, what’s next?
In future, a performance of group of accordionists or other instrumentalists with choreography that follows a certain narrative could be made. I think this would be a source for unique show with choreography. Besides the music could be written by a composer especially for accordionists-actors.
During the rehearsal process and our performance, I understood that it is frightening for me to act, to communicate with other people and audience apart from music making, but I am inspired to gain acting skills and continue working in this direction. I acknowledged that there are a lot of things that I can do on stage apart from music making and I will be glad to explore them during my upcoming musical interdisciplinary projects.
The most interesting idea that popped up from one of my friends after she saw the performance was that this kind of movements could be used when advertising accordion to children so that they get interested by all the thrilling things one can do whilst playing this instrument.
References
Books
Internet
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DG_YNgJtsE4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JecPiLUn4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=968916g-DG0
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kjiwg9-1Gfk
Webpage of composer Georges Aperghis, accessed Jan 8, 2017
http://www.aperghis.com/english.html
Aperghis Georges (2014) *Retrouvailles*, New music days: Lucerne,
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4w2_LMhnRvw&t=1966s
Webpage of artist Mathew Sharp, accessed Mar 24, 2017
http://www.matthewsharp.net/#projects |
Aesthetics and Innovation
# Table of Contents
Preface .......................................................................................................................... viii
**Part I: Methodology, Theory and History of Art and Aesthetics**
CHAPTER ONE ...........................................................................................................3
A Psychological Theory of the Aesthetic Experience
*Bjarne Sode Funch*
CHAPTER TWO .........................................................................................................21
Objective and Subjective Components of Aesthetic Experience
*Natalja V. Nekrylova*
CHAPTER THREE ....................................................................................................33
What is Beauty? On the Dichotomy between Subject and Object around 1900
*Volker A. Munz*
CHAPTER FOUR ......................................................................................................47
Complementary Relations between Quantitative and Qualitative Approaches to Research in Aesthetics
*Gerald C. Cupchik and Michelle C. Hilscher*
CHAPTER FIVE .......................................................................................................67
When the Real van Gogh is Real! Cognitive Top-Down Effects in Art Appreciation
*Helmut Leder and M. Dorothee Augustin*
**Part II: Creative Processes**
CHAPTER SIX ...........................................................................................................83
Quantitative Estimations of Creativity: Social Determination and Free Will
*Lidia A. Mazhul and Vladimir M. Petrov*
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Chapter</th>
<th>Title</th>
<th>Authors</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>SEVEN</td>
<td>Neuropsychological Support to the Novelty Generation Process</td>
<td>T. Sophie Schweizer</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>EIGHT</td>
<td>Plural Self, Plural Achievement Motives, and Creative Thinking</td>
<td>Leonid Dorfman and Anastasia Ogorodnikova</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>NINE</td>
<td>Perversion and Creativity in the Language of War</td>
<td>Robert Hogenraad</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td><strong>Part III: Perception and Understanding of Art and Literature</strong></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>TEN</td>
<td>Art Constructs as Generators of the Meaning of the Work of Art</td>
<td>Victor F. Petrenko and Olga N. Sapsoleva</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ELEVEN</td>
<td>Portrayal of Women and Jungian Anima Figures in Literature: Quantitative: Content Analytic Studies</td>
<td>Anne E. Martindale and Colin Martindale</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>TWELVE</td>
<td>Translation of Values through Art: Non-Classical Value Approach</td>
<td>Dmitry Leontiev</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>THIRTEEN</td>
<td>Individual and Professional Differences in the Perception of Dramatic Art</td>
<td>Dmitry Leontiev and Larissa Lagoutina</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>FOURTEEN</td>
<td>The Role of Attachment Patterns in Emotional Processing of Literary Narratives</td>
<td>János László and Éva Fülöp</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td><strong>Part IV: Evaluation of Pictures and Music</strong></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>FIFTEEN</td>
<td>Pictures in the Mind: Symmetry and Projections in Drawings</td>
<td>Diane Humphrey and Dorothy Washburn</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Automatic Affective Evaluation of Pictures and Words
Stefano Mastandrea
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Computer Sound Analysis in Musicology: Its Goals, Methods, and Results
Alexander V. Kharuto
Part V: Evolution in Art and Literature
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sociocultural Oscillations and their Analogies with Physical Waves
Colin Martindale
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Evolutionary Genius” and the Intensity of Artistic Life: Who Makes Musical History?
Peter Kulichkin
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Expanding Universe of Literature: Principal Long-range Trends in the Light of an Informational Approach
Vladimir M. Petrov
Part VI: Psychophysiological Basis of Aesthetics and Creativity
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
A Biological Approach to a Model of Aesthetic Experience
Oshin Vartanian and Marcos Nadal
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Gender Differences in Creativity: A Psychophysiological Study
Olga M. Razumnikova, Nina V. Volf, and Irina V. Tarasova
Contributors
Name Index
Subject Index
In this book we have attempted to gather together a set of chapters that describe new ways of approaching questions about aesthetics and innovation. Rather than going over old ground, the chapters describe attempts to break new ground. A number of chapters are by Russian scholars. A valuable aspect of Russian scholarship is that many topics, such as art history, are studied with quantitative methods rather than being left to imprecise qualitative humanistic approaches. As well as describing new methods and results, they will be novel to most Western readers, because the Russian perspective on aesthetics and innovation is rather different than the traditional Western perspective. Looking at phenomena from a new viewpoint never hurts and very often helps in science.
The chapters in Part I deal with method, theory, and the history of aesthetics. Much of the time, we merely glance at art works, and they have rather little impact upon us. However, art can have a very striking and long lasting effect upon us. The book begins with Funch's analysis of this phenomenon. Munz describes von Ehrenfel's development of his Gestalt theory of beauty in the context of intellectual life in Vienna around 1900. He makes this period come to life in a way that leads the reader to wish that he or she were living in Vienna then rather than wherever he or she may be living now. Nekrylova and Cupchik and Hilscher describe new and profitable ways in which art can be studied by a combination of both qualitative and quantitative methods. The two methods together give us a better picture of the perception of art than either used in isolation. Helmut Leder and Dorothee Augustin describe a useful framework for describing the perception of art and outline work dealing with top-down influences on how we view a work of art. Art does not merely elicit a response. Rather, the response is heavily influenced by what we have been led to believe about a work of art.
The second part of the book deals with some new approaches to the creative process. Mazhul and Petrov examine the degree to which creators are free to work as they wish as opposed to being influenced by external factors. Social support for creative work has been little studied. Schweizer looks at in detail and most interestingly does so from a neuropsychological perspective. Based on the sociocinndividual world theory, Dorfman and Ogorodnikova discriminate the plural self into subselves and the plural achievement motives into submotives either of motives to achieve success or to avoid failure. They examine the link between subselves, achievement submotives and creative thinking. We seldom
think of war and creativity as being closely allied, but Hogenraad describes research showing that the rhetoric of politicians seems to be more creative when war is immanent as opposed to when it is drawing to a close.
The chapters in Part III deal in one way or another with the perception and understanding of art and literature. Petrenko and Sapsoleva and Martindale and Martindale deal with the "personality" of characters in film and literature. Petrenko and Sapsoleva describe a novel method of studying these personalities based upon Kelly's personal construct theory. Martindale and Martindale use content analytic methods to study Jungian hypotheses about the portrayal of women in literature. Though Jung is usually accused of formulating theories that cannot be tested, they show that this is not at all the case. Leontiev and Lagoutina also use a method derived from Kelly's work to study the influence of values upon both the creation and the perception of art. The chapters by Leontiev and László and Fülöp deal with individual differences in the perception of art. Leontiev shows that those with training in theater view theatrical performances in a far different way than those without such training. László and Fülöp show that reading the same work of literature will arouse quite different emotions in readers with different personality types.
In Part IV we have grouped three chapters that deal with innovative methods of studying the arts. Humphrey and Washburn compare the drawings of artists and non-artists on variables such as the seven band symmetries, affine projections, and so on that have seldom if ever been used in the study of art works. Mastandrea describes studies showing the intimate relationship of imagery and emotion that promise to shed light on how visual art is perceived. Finally, Kharuto describes a fascinating computer program that analyzes music in ways that had before to be done only by ear in an imprecise way.
The chapters in Part V deal with the evolution of art and literature. Martindale describes the oscillations that are set in motion by innovation not only in the arts but also in science and the economy. He raises the question of the degree to which these oscillations resemble the physical oscillations found for example in light waves and sound waves. The oscillations found in art arise from the periodic introduction of new styles in the various genres of art and literature. Based on his study of 6453 composers of the 13th—20th centuries, Kulichkin describes in detail how such styles are introduced by creative geniuses. The arts did not always consist of different genres. Petrov uses information theory to explain how such differentiation occurred.
The book ends with two chapters on the new and fascinating work being done on the brain and the creation and perception of art. Vartanian and Nadal review studies of brain scans done when people are observing visual art. The studies have yielded consistent results and, if nothing else, lead us to question the notion of the disinterested nature of aesthetic perception. Razumnikova,
Volf, and Tarasova describe a large scale study of EEG patterns and creative thought. Very interesting sex differences suggest that men and women may use quite different strategies in thinking of new ideas.
We thank Yury Maximov who put the book into camera-ready form and offered invaluable help along the way.
Leonid Dorfman,
Colin Martindale,
Vladimir Petrov
PART I
METHODOLOGY, THEORY AND HISTORY
OF ART AND AESTHETICS
CHAPTER ONE
A PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY
OF THE AESTHETIC EXPERIENCE
BJARNE SODE FUNCH
A psychological theory of art’s influence on the human psyche and existence is presented in this chapter. With a point of departure in a phenomenological description of the aesthetic experience as a transcendent phenomenon it is suggested that an aesthetic experience provides a distinct form to an existential theme in the life of the perceiver. A phenomenological model of consciousness serves as a basis for an understanding of how a momentary experience of a specific work of art on rare occasions exerts an extraordinary influence on the psyche and existence by constituting an emotional quality and giving options for reflecting an existential theme in the life of the perceiver.
Several years ago I went to the Tate Gallery in London. I remember walking around and enjoying the fine collection of works of art. At some point I came to an opening with a curtain in front of it and at first I was not sure if it was open to the public, but decided to enter nonetheless and found myself in a room with dimmed light surrounded by a group of large paintings in black and maroon. When I left the room I learned that it was the Seagram Series (1959) by the American painter Mark Rothko. I was totally absorbed in these paintings. They created a vibrating atmosphere that deeply touched me, and I don’t know how long I stood there in front of each painting letting myself disappear in their infinite color fields. It was an unusually powerful emotional sensation; it is difficult to say exactly what kind of emotion it was, apart from it being extremely pleasurable.
The Aesthetic Experience
It is well-known that people on exceptional occasions have experiences with works of art that transcend the ordinary stream of consciousness. Among other accounts of such experiences is one by the Roman theologian and philosopher Augustine who describes in his Confessions how the church music has affected him. He (1961, p. 190) writes, “The tears flowed from me when I heard your
hymns and canticles, for the sweet singing of your Church moved me deeply. The music surged in my ears, truth seeped into my heart, and my feelings of devotion overflowed, so that the tears streamed down. But they were tears of gladness.”
Throughout the history of the fine arts there are similar accounts and suggestions of a type of art appreciation that is so extraordinary that it presents an issue that cannot be ignored. Philosophers and psychologists such as Monroe Beardsley (1981), Martin Lindauer (1981), Robert Panzarella (1980), Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and Rick E. Robinson (1990) have already embarked on a description of this phenomenon of art appreciation and in a continuation of their work, I (Funch 1997) have established on the basis of accounts from their studies, as well as my own experiences and the interviews that I have carried out, a number of phenomenological characteristics of what I suggest to call the aesthetic experience.
The phenomenology of the aesthetic experience with a work of visual art includes cognitive, visual, emotional as well as intentional aspects. Especially the visual and the emotional aspects are conspicuous in comparison to the same aspects during ordinary perception, whereas the cognitive aspect of the aesthetic experience is relatively ordinary by promoting spontaneous recognition of the subject matter. The intentional aspect seems by first sight quite ordinary by focusing on the work of art with a passive and disinterested attitude, but further phenomenological studies reveal an extraordinary relationship between spectator and work of art. In aesthetic experiences within other disciplines such as music and literature, the visual aspect will be replaced by an audible or imaginary aspect and these will be conspicuous just like the visual aspect in encounters with works of visual art.
In the question of the phenomenology of the aesthetic experience it is important to be aware that an aesthetic experience is elicited by a specific work of art and therefore, the aspects of the experience are determined by the subject matter. Consequently, an aesthetic experience of Guernica (1937) by Pablo Picasso, for example, is different from an aesthetic experience of Dance (1910) by Henri Matisse. Not only will visual perception and recognition vary, but the emotions will vary as well according to the painting’s subject matter. At the same time there are some general characteristics of the visual and emotional dimensions of the aesthetic experience which are of utmost importance for the understanding of the psychological effects of the experience.
**Visual aspect of the aesthetic experience**
The visual aspect of an aesthetic experience with a painting is emphasized by complete unity, lucidity, eminence and originality. The picture appears in
experience as a unified whole in which every detail is an inevitable component of the composition. No visual element is more prominent than the others; rather they all contribute to a common image. The experience is limited to the work of art in question and the picture’s surroundings are excluded from experience. Monroe Beardsley as well as Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi point to this aspect of visual unity. Beardsley (1981, p. 527) writes, “An aesthetic experience is one in which attention is firmly fixed upon heterogeneous but interrelated components of a phenomenally objective field—visual or auditory patterns, or the characters and events in literature.”
Lucidity or luminosity is another characteristic of the visual aspect. Paul Tillich, the German-American philosopher and theologian, once described this aspect from an experience he had with a painting by Sandro Botticelli at the Kaiser Friederich Museum in Berlin. He (1955, p. 235) writes, “Gazing up at it, I felt a state approaching ecstasy. In the beauty of the painting there was Beauty itself. It shone through the colors of the paint as the light of day shines through the stained-glass windows of a medieval church.”
This aspect of luminosity as if the painting is imbued with its own inner light is occasionally referred to in phenomenological accounts, but neither Beardsley (1981), Csikszentmihalyi and Robinson (1990), Martin Lindauer (1981), or Robert Panzarella (1980) mention this aspect as a characteristic of an aesthetic experience.
Sublimity or eminence is a third characteristic of the visual aspect. The picture in question appears during the aesthetic experience with such a profound prominence and vital power that it transcends what is depicted. The subject matter appears with a visual singularity and autonomy that makes its references subordinate to its own presence.
This aspect is hinted at when Panzarella (1980) speaks of “an altered perception” during the aesthetic experience and possibly also when Csikszentmihalyi and Robinson (1990, p. 68) refer to a state of “heightened awareness”, but only in Erich Neumann’s description is it given full attention. He (1989, p. 188) describes the sublime aspect, or the “eternal” aspect as he calls it, as something that becomes visible to us as “the authentic reality”. He (p. 189) writes, “Yet in every case, we find ourselves confronted with the ineffable magnificence of something which can never be grasped, but which animates everything that is real as a crowning super-real essence.” This sublime quality of the visual aspect is difficult, if not impossible, to isolate from other aspects of the aesthetic experience, but it is important to notice that the visual presence of the subject matter is imbued with a distinct form or appearance. This leads to a fourth characteristic of the aesthetic experience, namely, originality, which is often associated with works of art.
Originality in regards to visual art is associated with the visual appearance of the subject matter. The spontaneous experience of originality may be difficult to differentiate from the aftermath of comprehension. The American art historian H. W. Janson states originality as a defining quality of a work of art. He (1995, p. 21) writes, “Whether we are aware of it or not, tradition is the framework within which we inevitably form our opinion of works of art and assess their degree of originality.” This attempt to define originality within the context of tradition is very different from the spontaneous experience of something which has never been experienced before. The subject matter may actually not be foreign to the spectator, but it appears spontaneously in a form that is novel and unique without any evaluating references at all.
**Emotional aspect of the aesthetic experience**
Art appreciation and emotions are closely related to each other. Whenever we speak about an experience with art, the emotional response is recognized as fundamental. This emotional response in ordinary encounters with art is expressed from two different levels of consciousness. One being the spontaneous response of horror, joy, or any other specific emotional quality elicited by the work in question; the other being the reflective response evaluating the work as being a good, exciting, bad or any other evaluation of the work in question. The emotional aspect of the aesthetic experience is always a spontaneous response and it usually transcends ordinary emotional by being exceptionally intense. The Dutch literary scholar Ernst van Alphen once described such an emotional response to a painting by Francis Bacon. He (1992, p. 9) writes, “Seeing a work by Francis Bacon hurts. It causes pain. The first time I saw a painting by Bacon, I was literally left speechless. I was touched so profoundly because the experience was one of total engagement, of being dragged along by the work. I was perplexed about the level on which these paintings touched me: I could not even formulate what the paintings were about, still less what aspect of them hurt me so deeply.” Similar descriptions of emotional responses to works of art have been brought forward by James Elkins (2001) and Robert Panzarella (1980) and these accounts demonstrate a broad spectrum of different emotional qualities as well as an emotional intensity that is overwhelming to the spectator.
These emotional responses to works of art differ from ordinary emotions mainly because they are elicited by fiction. Ordinary emotions are caused by incidents in real life originating, for example, from a relationship where another person hurts, irritates, or pleases you, whereas the emotional response to art is a response to an occurrence that has no influence on life apart from the relationship to the work of art. Nevertheless, the emotional impact seems to be
so significant that it is ascribe great importance and remembered as an exceptional experience. A major reason for this distinguishing quality is an experience of terrific pleasure which arises together with the specific emotional quality associated with the work of art in question. Even in cases a work of art elicits an emotion associated with a feeling displeasure as for example disgust, anxiety, or terror, the aesthetic experience is characterized by a feeling of transcending pleasure.
**Focus of the aesthetic experience**
The intentional aspect or the focus of the aesthetic experience is similar to the unusual character of the visual and emotional experience. One’s focus becomes completely concentrated on the work of art to the exclusion of everything else. The surrounding context drops away from consciousness and there are no reflections, associations, or comparisons to disturb the focus on the work of art. The visual appearance of the work of art defined by spontaneous identification and emotionality completely occupies consciousness. Furthermore, the focus transcends the usual dichotomy between subject and object which means that the work of art is experienced with a significant quality of existential density. It is as if the spectator is transparently present in what is being perceived which makes the experience rooted in the present moment.
Perceiving without the usual division between subject and object invigorates the viewer, causing him or her to feel present without necessarily being self-aware. There are no intentions that point to specific intrinsic or extrinsic interests, as if the experience contains the intentions themselves. It is a momentary incident as if time is abolished and without any practical, relational, or other kinds of perspectives. This type of intentionality is described by Mikel Dufrenne (1973, p. 406) as participation *with* rather than an aim *towards*.
The special character of the intentional aspect has invited many different and sometimes contradictory descriptions. “Being absorbed” or “losing self-awareness” are typical descriptions of the focus of the aesthetic experience. Csikszentmihalyi and Robinson (1990, p. 122) put forward that “attention is so completely focused, so completely enmeshed in the interaction with the artwork, that the viewer gives up, at least momentarily, his most human attribute: self-consciousness.” This description of absorption or loss of ego is from time to time contradicted by descriptions such as “detached affects”, “disinterested enjoyment” and “psychical distance”. Absorption and distance seem to contradict each other in conception of the perceiver’s ego, but actually they emphasize or rather overemphasize two features of the intentional aspect. On the one side, the work of art lays claim to the entire experience without any specific attention given to the viewer. On the other side, the ego or self is
Chapter One
intensively present without being focused on. This mixture of absorption and personal presence can be recognized as a characteristic quality of the aesthetic experience.
**Spiritual reflection**
The phenomenology of the intentional focus indicates a distinctive state of being. Building on Søren Kierkegaard’s idea, I suggest identifying this aspect as an example of self-actualization. He (1980, p.13) defines the self as “a relation that relates itself to itself.” Applying his idea to the aesthetic experience reveals a double nature of it. First, the aesthetic experience is a relationship between the perceiver and the work of art in a direct and momentary encounter. At the same time, it is an example of a relationship between an existential theme and the personality of the perceiver in the sense that personal life-experiences are reflected in the theme in question. The sublime quality of the visual aspect indicates that not only the specific work of art defines the experience, but it is also permeated by ideals that can only originate from the perceiver’s life-experiences. The first relationship reflected in the second refers to what Kierkegaard calls “the self” or “spirit”. He (p. 13) states that “a human being is a synthesis of the infinite and the finite, of the temporal and the eternal, of freedom and necessity, in short a synthesis. A synthesis is a relation between two.”
Defining the self as a relation relating to itself, Kierkegaard establishes the self as a process of becoming oneself. The self is constituted in the moment or the process of relating one relation to the other rather than as a trait or skill that characterizes the person in question. Kierkegaard (1980, p. 14) concludes that “the self rests transparently in the power that establishes it.” In other words, an experience of existential density originates from a ruling art encounter being reflected in life-experiences. The self is a process of being constituted by the process itself.
Kierkegaard (1980) mentions the will not to be oneself and the will to be oneself as major obstacles for the constituting process of the self. These are also major obstacles for the aesthetic experience when an art audience either rejects to engage in a direct encounter or uses the work of art for self-conformation or self-orchestration.
The aesthetic experience is a sudden and momentary incident that occurs without any proceeding intentions. It is a case of a person’s personality being reflected in his or her current art encounter. The question is how this process of constituting the self can be understood from a psychological point of view.
Emotional Constitution
With a point of departure in the proceeding phenomenological description of the aesthetic experience I postulate that an aesthetic experience is an instance in which an emotion is constituted in its existential actuality. My reasons for this thesis are first of all based on the transcending character of the aesthetic experience in which the sensual and emotional aspects are conspicuous. This phenomenological emphasis on the two aspects makes it evident to relate them to each other.
In psychology, emotions have always been closely related to the senses. Visual, auditory, tactual, olfactory, and gustatory impressions are primary sources for eliciting emotions. Here I take the liberty to include imagination among the primary senses because it is clear that dreams, memories, and fantasies caused by thinking bring forth emotions just as sense impressions do. Cognitive reflections on primary sense impressions on the other hand do not bring forth emotional responses by themselves and have even an impeding influence on emotional states of being. Sense impressions in ordinary perception are linked to specific emotional qualities so that each time a person encounters a vicious dog for example he or she will feel fear. With this example in mind it should be taken into consideration that emotional responses vary, at least to some degree, from person to person. In each case people recognize the specific quality of such emotional responses because they are familiar with them from previous encounters. The exceptional thing about the aesthetic experience is that the person does not recognize the specific quality of the emotion elicited by the work of art. The emotion is not only ineffable; it has never before been associated with a sense impression. It may seem familiar although it doesn’t bring forth any memories. This leads to the assumption that the emotion during an aesthetic experience is linked to a sense impression for the first time.
A precondition for the thesis that the appearance of a work of art elicits an unconstituted emotional quality is that the repertoire of emotions increases during the course of life and it is not limited to a fixed number of emotions. It is clear from watching a newborn that we respond with appreciation or rejection right from the beginning, even before we have any idea of the world. At first the child still lives in a kind of symbiosis with the surrounding world, and within this symbiotic state of being the infant sometimes expresses a feeling of harmony with the world as for example when the infant nurses or is simply cuddled up in her arms. Being undressed or hearing a loud crash will cause a response of rejection and despair, and the baby will demonstrate feelings of displeasure. The emotional responses of appreciation and rejection are little by little associated with objects in the child’s surroundings. The emotions are no longer just states of being but are also related to specific sense impressions. The
baby will soon be able to recognize and even anticipate exterior circumstances and respond with appropriate emotions.
The child’s emotional repertoire develops little by little as new emotions arise and as the child learns how to differentiate between the already existing emotions. Appreciation is associated with new objects and situations and new qualities are constituted. As an adult the repertoire of emotions continues to expand as new existential encounters require adequate emotional responses. In this way the repertoire of emotions, as with knowledge, is increasing during the entire course of life.
Most people will throughout life encounter new existential themes and consequently new emotional qualities need to be constituted. The repertoire will be different from person to person, although we all have a good number of emotions in common. The interesting thing is that the emotional life varies from generation to generation. People today encounter life situations that are very different from those encountered in former times. Their living and work situations are different, they relate differently to their partners, children, and friends, and their cultural and spiritual engagements are also different. Emotions experienced by people today may have been totally unknown to former generations. From a phenomenological point of view, human existence holds an uncountable number of different emotional qualities, and in future there will appear emotional qualities that we do not know of yet.
The origin of emotions experienced during an aesthetic experience is different from emotions experienced in daily life. A specific feeling of repulsion or attraction in front of a painting or a piece of music is no different from the same feeling arising in ordinary situations, but since emotions during aesthetic experiences are elicited by fiction, they are not associated with intentions or requirements for action. The emotional intensity may be just as powerful as emotions in daily life, but they cause no action.
This peculiar lack of initiation in the aesthetic experience leads to the assumption that an emotion during an aesthetic experience is a reawakening of an emotion rather than a proper emotional response. When an adult, just like a child, encounters a specific situation he or she experiences a specific emotional quality. If this is the first time this emotional quality occurs it may not be constituted right away by the concurrent sense impression. A reason may be that the sense impression has not been sufficiently distinct to serve as constituting factor. Such emotions which are not constituted by sense impressions can only be actualized in new encounters that are similar to the first; they cannot be remembered and recalled. When a work of art reawakens such a latent emotion it is because the work elicits an experience that is equal to the original experience. The work displays at the same time a distinct form which is appropriate for the emotion in question. In other words, the work of art elicits an
existential theme in compliance with similar experiences from past life encounters and provides an adequate sense impression for the emotion to be constituted.
**Phenomenological Model of Consciousness**
A phenomenological conception of human consciousness serves as the basis for understanding the aesthetic experience.
Ordinary consciousness is according to phenomenological studies an interaction between two different approaches to life-world. One is a spontaneous approach characterized by an uninterrupted stream of consciousness, another is a reflective approach basically characterized by reflecting the spontaneous stream. The two approaches alternate with each other in such a short interval that they seem to form one kind of consciousness.
During the stream of consciousness sense impressions, imagery, emotions, and thoughts randomly follow each other without any specific focus. There is no subject-object relationship in play, and therefore, no point of view or an ego in command. Under exceptional circumstances such as in dream, meditation, contemplation, and activities with an unusually concentrated focus, the period of spontaneous consciousness is extended without interruption. Csikszentmihalyi (1990) talks about “flow” as a characteristic of focused activity. Extreme states of spontaneous consciousness consist of sense impressions alone without any kind of conceptualization except from the form appearing before one. Less extreme states include emotions, imagery, and even thinking in its non-reflective form. These aspects of consciousness are determined not only by sense impressions elicited by the current surroundings but also by what randomly arises from memory and mental imagery. The number of impressions during the spontaneous approach is staggering and it is unthinkable that each and every one of them is stored in memory. Nevertheless, it is well-known that some of these impressions if they are loaded with strong emotions are stored in memory and become part of a person’s life-experiences. If such impressions are not followed up by reflection they are stored in a concealed memory and are usually impossible to recall at a later time. This happens with traumatic experiences for example. Impressions that are stored in mind without access create a dynamic factor by randomly intruding on the stream of consciousness. Such intrusions make a claim on consciousness and influence a general state of being. In case of traumatic memories they contribute with unrest and anxiety and the person in question is not able to do anything or control the situation. In this way a person’s general state of being is influenced by concealed memories whenever they are brought into action and the person is unable to interrupt and bring an end to such powerful memories.
Concealed memories are important to the understanding of the aesthetic experience by providing the emotional aspect of the experience. When a person encounters a work of art, it is not the work as such that stimulates an emotional response, but it brings forth an existential theme with a corresponding emotional quality. This emotional quality originates from past experiences which are stored as concealed memories. When such an emotional quality is actualized through an art encounter it is linked to the appearance of the work of art, and through these means, constituted as an emotion that can be approached through reflection.
Ordinary consciousness alternates between the spontaneous stream of consciousness and the reflective approach. The process of reflection basically mirrors the spontaneous stream, but during this process different cognitive capacities such as identification, discrimination, comparison, and so forth, are also brought into action. For example, if a person is contemplating a landscape and suddenly something happens, he or she will switch to reflective consciousness by asking what it is. This attentive attitude brings cognitive schemata into action in an attempt to identify the subject. When the subject is identified this subject may be the cause of a new sequence of spontaneous stream of consciousness and so forth.
Consciousness in the reflective mode is different from the spontaneous stream by constituting a subjective perspective. In trying to identify something moving in the landscape, the spectator is constituted in experience as an identity that relates to the surrounding landscape. This identity may just be defined as me without further qualifications than being the onlooker of the landscape. Thus, the subject-object relationship is constituted through the relationship between the spontaneous stream and the reflective process and this relationship means that the cognitive identifications are accentuated in experience. Whereas the spontaneous stream has no priorities, the reflective mode is focused and determined by personal cognitive capacities. When a person from a city for example looks at a field and recognizes the crop as grain, the farmer will be able to discern subtle differences and identify the same crop as wheat, oats, rye, or barley.
The reflective focus lays the ground for ordinary memory—a sort of archive in which specific entities can be reactivated to bring up previous experiences and knowledge. This depository of sense impressions, concepts, and other kinds of cognitive entities, serve as grounds for cognitive schemata. These schemata provide the basis for recognition and identification.
Ordinary consciousness continuously goes back and forth between spontaneous and reflective modes and they interact in such a way that they complement each other. The spontaneous approach provides new material for the reflective process and the reflective approach initiates spontaneous
awareness. Their interactions are so subtle that they usually are recognized as one kind of consciousness.
The reflective mode in the ordinary sense is excluded from the aesthetic experience, although spontaneous identification necessary for constituting the existential theme in question is an aspect of the spontaneous stream of consciousness. The reflective process during the aesthetic experience is extraordinary because it reflects appropriate parts of the concealed memory and elicits emotions from previous life experiences. I suggest calling this process *spiritual reflection*. During spiritual reflection life experiences are recalled in their living state without being subject for recognition and cognitive processing. This reawakening of familiar emotional qualities that cannot be identified creates a feeling of existential density which is a major characteristic of the aesthetic experience.
During the spiritual reflective process the spontaneous stream of consciousness constituted by the art encounter is reflected in life-experience. The same existential theme as the one elicited by the work of art is reawakened from the concealed memory. It is not the memories as such that are recalled, but the emotional reminiscences that are elicited as if they are part of the present experience. When these emotional reminiscences are linked with the visual appearance of the work of art they are brought to a new stage of consciousness. They are brought out of the concealed memory by being objectified in the form of the work of art, and as a result, they will no longer have a disturbing influence on the stream of consciousness. The spiritual reflective process of the aesthetic experience brings in this way harmony to the stream of consciousness and provides a platform for better contact to present life.
This theory of the aesthetic experience as a constituting factor in a psychological process of increasing personal integrity cannot be approved through systematic empirical research because the aesthetic experience is unpredictable and because the complexity of the interaction between person and work of art prevents controlled investigations. Therefore, the theory’s truth value can only be tested on its ability to account for art’s psychological and sociological status in daily life. The following account is an attempt to put personal, societal, and artistic circumstances into perspective.
**Personal Perspectives**
For many people art is a leisure activity. They are attracted and fascinated by works of art as products of artistic craft and creative imagination. Even so, art appreciation is often regarded as unproductive, and without fulfilling any practical purpose. Thus, art is generally relegated to the role of entertainment.
The same people, however, who recognize art as a leisure activity have also experienced on rare occasions works of art that have made deep impressions on them. They will remember encounters with a specific book of fiction, a piece of music, or a painting, in which they were touched at an existential level far beyond amusement. Experiences that set the ground for vitalized reflection and are imprinted in the mind forever. Such experiences are often counted among the most important life-experiences, right alongside of the birth of a child, the death of a friend or relative, and other occasions of dramatic life changes. People may not talk much about such experiences with art because they are imbued with mysticism and are difficult to describe.
Authors such as Orhan Pamuk (1997), Rainer Maria Rilke (1989) and Nathalie Sarraute (1958) have suggested that art experiences of existential character make the person wish for a change of life. After experiencing the archaic torso of Apollo, Rilke claims explicitly, “You must change your life.” Such poetic descriptions may at first seem a bit exaggerated, but observations reveal that an aesthetic experience is followed by a state of enlightenment. Beardsley (1981, p. 560) writes, “There is often a very special refreshing feeling that comes after aesthetic experience, a sense of being unusual free from inner disturbance or unbalance.” He maintains that an aesthetic experience creates a feeling of personal integrity or harmony. It may also resolve lesser conflicts, develop imagination, refine perceptual discrimination, and improve the ability to put oneself in place of others. He (p. 576) concludes that an aesthetic experience is “an aid to mental health” and offers “an ideal for human life.” Similar observation have been put forward by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and Rich E. Robinson (1990), John Dewey (1934), Marghanita Laski (1961), Abraham H. Maslow (1968), Rollo May (1975; 1991), and I. A. Richards (1925).
After all, art appreciation on some rare occasions gives cause for far-reaching existential changes. The aftermath of an aesthetic experience indicates a radical change of existence that can be understood in the light of the thesis that an aesthetic experience provides a latent emotional quality with an appropriate and distinct form.
Artistic engagement is another personal perspective of the psychological effects of art. Professional artists have to quite often renounce economical security. In some instances they may have to risk their lives because of political and religious restrictions. Furthermore, working as an artist is often an isolated activity because the profession is independent of the democratic organization of the society which means that there is no position as artist that would provide working conditions, economic security, social relations, and so forth. The artist is independent or even excluded from any type of societal support. Moreover, the creative work is usually based on a personal engagement that only adds to
the isolation often experienced by artists. Nevertheless, some are ready to
devote their lives to art in spite of all privations and difficulties.
The question is, why do people choose to be artists when it isn’t directly
supported by the society? Artists often say that they cannot stop themselves
from engaging in creative activity. The work is so alluring that it is impossible
to push it aside.
Although the prospects of fame and wealth, however slight, may be reasons
for embarking on an artistic career, the intensity of creative engagement reveals
more essential reasons. Artists are often absorbed in their work and pursue their
ideas with persistent courage. From a psychological point of view, creative
engagement provides the artist with an existential anchoring that is fundamental
to his or her commitment. This anchoring of creativity in existential dimensions
of life makes it plausible that art appreciation may have an existential impact on
viewers as well.
Social Perspectives
Art is given great importance within the society. Institutions such as art
academies, art museums, libraries, theatres, and concert halls are established
with the only purpose of serving the art world. Government investments in art
are sometimes considerable and buildings erected for the fine arts are often
pretentious and displaying outstanding architectural designs. Moreover, top
artists are greatly admired among the public and art and artists are likely to be
the major focal points whenever culture, past or present, is studied or celebrated.
From this perspective, there is no doubt about the great importance attached to
art.
On the other hand, art also gives rise to great furor. Under totalitarian
governments certain expressions of art are commonly banned and artists
prosecuted. When totalitarian states are brought down, art is once more target of
attack. This time people run riots against art previously adopted by the
authoritarian leaders. Throughout history iconoclasm has demonstrated how
works of art are closely associated with ruling powers as if art were a tool for
influencing people’s values and political engagement.
Art assumes a central position within the religious domain just as it does
within the secular society. Stories, pictures, and music are essential for the
practice of any religion. In Christianity for example the Bible contains parables,
poetry, and narratives that could be compared to secular literature. Pictures,
sometime highly estimated works of art, are displayed and used for devotion
within the Roman-Catholic Church. A Lutheran service without music is almost
unthinkable. Art of every kind is a natural part of Christian rituals and the same
is true for other religions.
At the same time, there are restrictions concerning what may be depicted. Within Judaism as well as Christianity it is forbidden according to the Holy Scriptures to make pictures of God. This prohibition is administrated with varying degrees of stringency, but in all cases it is based on a conviction that pictures may exert such an influence on people that they will confuse the pictures with God.
Censorship of art is also common within the educational domain. It is a well-known phenomenon even in western democracies today that books are banned from libraries and schools. There are very little resources given to art education in schools with the focus placed predominantly on subjects such as language, mathematics, and history. Art has to great extent been excluded from the curriculum and reckoned as an amusement without much educational value.
The prevailing ambivalent attitude towards art within the society spans from great respect to hostile rejection. The passion behind these opposing attitudes reveals that art has the potential to exert a great influence on people and their existence making it something far more essential than a momentary amusement. If art does constitute emotional qualities then it likely that art can lay the ground for existential values.
**Artistic Perspectives**
Artistic media in all the disciplines such as painting, music, and writing can be manipulated and combined in an unlimited number of ways. The history of fine art demonstrates how painting for example has varied in style and subject matter for hundreds or even thousands of years. Even if artistic media are comprised of such basic elements as colors, tones, and words, still they provide the options for variations that surpass the appearance of the surrounding reality. A landscape depicted in a painting can be in comparison to the same landscape in reality manipulated in a great many ways. Furthermore, the artistic media provides the means for creating artistic expressions that have never before been introduced. New expressions are continuously coming up and demonstrate the unending process of innovation associated with art. From an existential-phenomenological point of view it is reasonable to relate diversity and innovation within the fine arts to the reality of emotional life. Just as in art, one’s emotional life varies in an unlimited number of ways and new emotional qualities emerge as living conditions change. Assuming that art constitutes emotions, it is plausible to say that art echoes emotional life. As living conditions change and people encounter new existential themes in life, art has to produce new artistic expressions to provide the necessary means for their constitution.
Works of art are ideally suited to play a role constituting emotions, not only because of art’s diversity and its capacity for innovation, but also because works of art display a compositional unity which relates primarily to only one of the human senses. The phrase “unity in variety” has often been used to describe a work of art, meaning that every detail contributes to the work as a whole. This makes works of art well suited for providing a distinct form for the constitution of emotional qualities. The surrounding world may also provide constituting forms, but in comparison to art, reality is rarely sharply outlined nor do the details necessarily have harmony. Reality stimulates more senses at once and creates a more multifarious sense impression than works of art, and therefore, it is less suited for providing a limited and integrated sense impression to reflect an existential theme.
Art has often been claimed to be a mirror of its contemporary culture. Form and content have changed over time and it is only reasonable to believe that these changes are caused by new existential challenges in the society. It is easy to detect a shifting focus on spirituality and religion, individual identity, powers of the unconscious, technology, and so forth. An increase of technological inventions in our world has accounted for an increase in existential challenges during the last century and this has also been followed by an increase of changes in artistic expressions. Assuming that new existential challenges inspire artistic innovations it might be said that art provides the art audience with an aid for retaining the existential theme in question. When current existential themes are objectified through works of art these objectifications make it possible for the audience to constitute and retain new emotional qualities.
I could put forward further details of the reality of art and art appreciation in an attempt to evaluate my thesis, but let me instead return to my aesthetic experience at the Tate Gallery.
Epilogue
My experience with Rothko’s works has had a profound impact on me. In retrospect, I see that it gave me a new insight that I was not yet able to grasp or determine, though I was aware of the elevated state of being that it left me with. It was not until many years later that I realized how I was actually influenced by the experience. I wrote an article with the title “Eternity” (1990) after a visit to the Grand Teton National Park in America, and I realize now many years later that this article reflects an interest in the infinite as a spiritual dimension. When I wrote the article I did not relate it to my experience with Rothko’s paintings, but today I am convinced that his paintings provided a distinct form for an existential theme in my life. A few years ago I visited the Rothko Chapel in Houston, Texas, and the Matisse Chapel in Vence, France, in order to carry out
studies on the relationship between contemporary art and spirituality—a research project that I am still working on today. What seemed to be an accidental incident at the Tate Gallery became a driving force in my life as a scholar.
References
|
BROWN UNIVERSITY
VISUAL IDENTITY POLICY
AND STRATEGY
CONTENTS
Section 1: Introduction to Policy ................................................................. 1
Introduction
A Note on Licensing
Why Is Visual Identity Important?
Section 2: Primary Identity ........................................................................ 4
The University Logo
Coat of Arms
Presidential Coat of Arms
Primary Logo Compositions
Logo Specifications – Sizing and Clearance Area
Proper Use of the Logo
Parody or Satirical Use of the Logo
Logo Access and File Type Information
Section 3: Affiliated Identities .................................................................... 13
Core Identity System for Departments, Schools and Programs
Corporation Seal and Identity
Other Visual Identity Systems
Campaign and Anniversary Identities and Logos
Section 4: Color Palettes and Applications ............................................... 18
Primary Color Palette
Secondary Color Palette
Metallic Color Palette
Color Applications
Section 5: Typography ................................................................................ 23
Standard Typefaces
Web Typefaces
Section 6: Best Practices Guide .................................................................. 27
Overview of Best Practices
Applying the Identity to Standard Publications
Independent Logos
Use of the Brown Logo with Other Logos
Imagery and Photography
Social Media
Stationery
Templates
INTRODUCTION TO POLICY
INTRODUCTION
Brown University officially adopted its current visual identity after significant study in 2003. Creating a formal policy for University identification included updating the Coat of Arms that has been part of the University’s seal since 1834 and adding the Brown name to more clearly and consistently identify the University.
The latest update of the “Brown Visual Identity Policy and Strategy,” formally launched for the 2016-17 academic year, has continued the evolution of standards for clarifying use of the identity in communications that include print and a broad spectrum of digital media.
The identity standards in this document present the approved visual elements of Brown’s identity, how to use them, in what media and when. Given the evolving nature of multimedia communications, cases may arise that are not covered by this manual.
For questions or additional guidance and assistance with any element of this policy, please contact visual_identity@brown.edu.
A NOTE ON LICENSING
This document provides standards for adhering to the University’s visual identity for all of Brown’s print and digital communications. Use of the identity on manufactured goods or products falls under additional guidelines.
Suppliers who manufacture and/or sell items imprinted with elements of the Brown University visual identity or other Brown indicia (to the public, Brown University departments, or student organizations) are required to be licensed by the University. Accordingly, Brown departments and student groups are required to purchase emblematic merchandise from officially licensed vendors. All products and designs must be approved through the University’s designated partner, Learfield Licensing Partners (formerly Licensing Resource Group).
To obtain a Brown University license or to get more information, please visit http://learfieldlicensing.com/licensing
WHY IS VISUAL IDENTITY IMPORTANT?
The strengths of Brown’s individual schools, departments, offices and programs contribute to the collective excellence of “what is Brown.” And for these individual departments, schools and programs, a connection to Brown’s identity instantly links them to more than 250 years of academic excellence, a reputation for innovative research, teaching, and learning, and a legacy of accomplishments by generations of alumni.
A clear and consistent visual identity conveys to the world the relationships across the University community and what it means to be “of Brown.”
In an era of intense visual competition amid a proliferation of logos and brands, Brown’s visual strategy is founded on building and sustaining a strong, easily recognizable identity that ensures that every unit at Brown benefits from the well-established history of the University’s excellence.
The Visual Identity Policy and Strategy provides a clear set of standards to:
- provide a look and feel that endows every part of the community with Brown’s history, ethos and reputation
- support units with the extension of the University’s “brand” recognition
- avoid dilution of the University’s strong identity
- ensure units benefit from centrally administered resources for design, trademark, legal, and other expenses supporting the official visual identity
- reinforce shared identity, community and values
Brown University’s primary visual identity consists of three variations whose application is determined by the level of officialdom conveyed by the use: the University logo, its Coat of Arms and Presidential Coat of Arms.
THE UNIVERSITY LOGO
The trademarked Brown University logo is the common graphic representation reflecting an individual, unit or program’s official relationship with Brown.
The logo is a “word mark” – a combination of a graphic image and designed text that is treated as a single identifying mark. It consists of Brown’s Coat of Arms and specified positioning of the “Brown” name.
This logo, in combination with the color palettes, typefaces and imagery specified within this document, is the primary element of the Brown visual identity.
COAT OF ARMS
Brown’s Coat of Arms is paired with the Brown name for the official logo. The Coat of Arms alone – without the Brown name – may be used only in circumstances where the word “Brown” or “Brown University” appears very prominently in close adjacency. The informal use of the Coat of Arms alone was otherwise discontinued in 2003 to establish a more recognizable identity.
Created shortly after the Revolutionary War, the Coat of Arms consists of a shield and a crest containing traditional heraldic elements.
To maintain the strong historic and symbolic elements it represents, the Coat of Arms should never be deconstructed or altered in any way (a rare exception is specified elsewhere in this document). Acceptable uses include full-color (gold, red, gray and white), two-color (red and white) and one-color variations (see Color Applications on page 22).
A – The shield is topped by a CREST that symbolizes the sun’s golden rays of learning, piercing the clouds of ignorance.
B – The crest rests on a TORSE – a wreath of twisted silks, similar to the trim sometimes depicted around the base of a crown or helmet. When Brown’s crest appears in color, every other twist of the torse is red.
C – The SHIELD features four open books, signifying learning, placed around a central cross, thought to be the cross of St. George. The cross is always red unless the logo is reproduced in one color.
The Presidential Coat of Arms is reserved for use by the Office of the President (at the president’s discretion), and may only be used with presidential approval and for items related to presidential initiatives or events hosted by the president or the Corporation of Brown University, such as Corporation meetings, Commencement, Convocation, and official presidential stationery.
The Presidential Coat of Arms includes a scroll at the bottom of the Coat of Arms with the Brown University motto, “In Deo Speramus,” which translates to “In God We Hope.”
The Presidential Coat of Arms must always appear in full color or black and white.
For guidance with or approval for use of the Presidential Coat of Arms, please contact visual_identity@brown.edu.
There are three logo compositions for the approved Brown University visual identity, to allow for flexibility of use.
Precise production of the logos, when used consistently and properly with the other elements of the visual strategy, represents Brown’s distinction and projects a clear, memorable identity that builds recognition of the University.
**Horizontal**
Ideal for horizontal banners, mastheads, footers and “landscape” compositions.
**Stacked**
Ideal for vertical or square compositions, such as covers, clothing, graphic icons and other square or narrow treatments.
**Coat of Arms**
The Brown University Coat of Arms may only be used in isolation in circumstances where the word “Brown” or “Brown University” appears very prominently in an adjacent treatment, such as in the masthead of a website or a publication.
The Coat of Arms also may be used in whole or in part (cropped, but not deconstructed) as a design element or watermark, but should never appear alone without a Brown University reference. See examples on page 30.
Official logos in various sizes and file formats are available online, as described in the *Logo Access and File Type Information* section on page 12.
LOGO SPECIFICATIONS
SIZING
The Brown University logo must always be used at a size that ensures that all of its elements are clearly visible and recognizable. The logo also must be reproduced at a fixed aspect ratio (scaled up or down in size proportionally) to ensure it is reproduced consistently. The logo must never be reshaped or distorted.
Minimum accepted sizes for production of the logo are listed here. There is no maximum size.
CLEARANCE AREA
A clearance area (or blank margin) around the logo is needed to ensure the logo is never encroached upon by surrounding content.
As illustrated, to determine the minimum clearance area, use the measurement of the width of the shield around all four sides of the logo. This always scales with the logo. When possible, allow additional clearance.
For more information about logo spacing and school or department wordmarks, see the Affiliated Identity section on page 14.
Official logos in various sizes and file formats are available online, as described in the Logo Access and File Type Information section on page 12.
PROPER USE OF THE LOGO
Brown’s logo should always be presented in a clear, consistent and effective manner, and should never be altered in any way. Preserving the integrity of the Brown logo is important for communicating to both internal and external communities Brown’s academic and programmatic excellence.
The logo should never be stretched out of scale, recolored, redrawn, have additional typefaces or text added, be broken into separate pieces, be trimmed, or be used to create a different logo.
Elements of the logo should not be obscured or covered by design elements, background photos or graphics. The presentation of the design elements should not be altered by insertion of shadows or screens that alter the official colors or – in the case of one-color or two-color presentations – distort the contrast of the logo’s individual design elements.
Only use files provided by University Communications and its Graphic Services unit, as described in the Logo Access and File Type Information section on page 12.
Coat of Arms in Outline
The Brown Coat of Arms in outline format is used only for watermarks, engravings, and some limited promotional materials (in cases when, as a design element, the vendor determines that the detail would be difficult to render, such as on a small pen). This version should never be used as a substitute for the standard Coat of Arms in any Brown primary or core unit logo, nor as a reverse of the logo (see Color Applications on page 22).
PARODY OR SATIRICAL USE
Brown’s trademark of its logo protects the visual identity from unlawful reproduction and defacement, and this extends to derivative works. However, the University’s respect for artistic expression permits parody or satirical use of the logo in instances where confusion or tarnishing of the identity would not result.
Parody or satirical uses are not permitted as the official or recognized identity of any Brown administrative or academic unit, or on any official documents of the University representing academic or business operations. To avoid infringement on Brown’s trademark, any satirical use must meet standards for avoiding the likelihood of confusion between Brown’s logo and the satirical treatment.
Brown defines parody or satirical uses as those that change – not merely remove – at a minimum 70% of each of the three composite elements of the logo (each of the three must be changed 70%) in whatever combination the elements are used.
For instance, the Coat of Arms element is composed of 10 elements: the sun and its golden rays; the cloud; the torse; the four open books within the shield; the two bars making up the central cross, and the shield itself. The “Brown name” element is composed of five elements (its five letters). The scroll for the Presidential Coat of Arms is composed of four elements: its three words and the scroll itself.
Consultation with Brown’s Office of University Communications or the University’s Office of General Counsel is strongly advised to ensure that humorous or satirical use of the University logo does not infringe upon existing trademarks, cause “brand confusion” or tarnish the Brown identity.
"... Parody or satirical uses are not permitted as the official or recognized identity of any Brown administrative or academic unit, or on any official documents of the University representing academic or business operations.”
## LOGO ACCESS AND FILE TYPE INFORMATION
Using the correct logo file type is important to ensure the clarity, sharpness and consistency of the Brown logo. To confirm you are using the correct file type for your project, please review the following file type chart.
### RESOLUTION
To print correctly, high-resolution graphics must be at least 300 dpi (dots per inch) at the actual size at which they will appear. On-screen resolution for Web, email, and presentations is much lower, and the logo should be at least 72 dpi at the actual size it will appear on screen.
### AVAILABILITY
The primary Brown logo is available to download online from the Brown Image Gallery as a low-resolution jpg or gif file (raster format).
https://brown.widencollective.com
For large format or vector versions of the logo, please submit the High-resolution Logo Request Form.
http://goo.gl/forms/biFNoMbnjk
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>PROGRAM</th>
<th>PREFERRED LOGO FILE TYPES:</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Adobe Illustrator</td>
<td>EPS, vector</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Adobe InDesign</td>
<td>EPS, vector</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Adobe Photoshop</td>
<td>EPS, vector</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Adobe Fireworks</td>
<td>AI, GIF, SWF</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PowerPoint on screen</td>
<td>WMF (Windows Metafile), JPG, GIF, PNG, EPS</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PowerPoint to print</td>
<td>WMF (Windows Metafile), TIFF, EPS, JPG</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>MSWord</td>
<td>EPS, TIFF, JPG</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Excel</td>
<td>PNG, JPG</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Microsoft Publisher</td>
<td>EPS, TIFF, JPG</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Web, email, social media</td>
<td>PNG, JPG, GIF</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
AFFILIATED IDENTITIES
DEPARTMENTS, SCHOOLS, CENTERS, PROGRAMS, ETC.
Every department, school, office and program at Brown is part of the University as a whole, adding to and gaining from Brown’s reputation and history. As such, Brown as a matter of policy encourages academic and administrative units to use the University logo and identity to maintain the clear affiliation between Brown and its programs and initiatives.
The official identities for most academic and administrative entities that are “of Brown” follow a core identity system, which should be used on all official stationery, materials and communications. The core identity system incorporates into the primary identity of the University the name of the office, department or program in a different font style.
SUB IDENTITIES
Some units within the University wishing to build a distinct recognizable identity may establish “sub identities” to heighten the brand recognition of their programs. This is done most often in cases where there is a strategic marketplace advantage in highlighting the name of the department or program to build name recognition as an identity distinct from Brown. These sub identities still incorporate the primary identity of the University, though the Brown name may be secondary in treatment.
This treatment is a practice that allows the growing strength of the program to benefit from Brown’s longstanding reputation for excellence while also contributing to Brown the attributes imbued by the program. All requests for sub identities must be reviewed by the Office of University Communications. Prominent examples of units with sub identities at Brown include the Warren Alpert Medical School and Watson Institute for International and Public Affairs. These units maintain guidelines for their sub identity systems.
Please contact the units hosting the sub identities for guidelines regarding use, or email visual_identity@brown.edu.
INDEPENDENT LOGOS
As a best practice, most institutions of higher education are moving away from an era of proliferation of independent logos within a college or university. Independent logos often lead to a fractured identity and the appearance of units disassociating with the core values of the institution.
In the rare case in which there are demonstrated strategic or marketplace advantages for a program or initiative to establish a long-term, consistent brand or identity with audiences external to the institution, programs or offices may seek to develop a separate “independent” logo or identity.
Programs or offices that demonstrate the long-term benefits of establishing a consistent identity independent of the University identity — and that demonstrate that such an identity will not lead to disassociation with the University or confusion—must work with the Office of University Communications to review the independent logo treatment. The intent should be to retain the independent logo for a substantial number of years to establish and sustain program identity distinct from the Brown core identity.
“Independent” program logos must include the Brown name to establish affiliation with the University, though the Brown logo must not be manipulated or altered to be incorporated into an independent program or office logo. In treatments in which the University name cannot be included in the logo, (reduced for business cards, digital use, etc.), the Brown logo should appear elsewhere on any print or digital communication bearing the independent logo.
At no time is it permissible for a logo design to encircle the Brown Coat of Arms with an inscription, because doing so is imitative of the seal of the Corporation of Brown University.
All logos for new departments or schools should be approved through the Office of University Communications. This includes logos within the core identity system, sub identities and requests for independent logos. For further guidance on independent logos, see the Best Practices Guide that appears as an appendix to this policy document.
CORE IDENTITY SYSTEM
APPLICATIONS
DEPARTMENTS, SCHOOLS AND PROGRAMS
These are examples of basic logo types used for departments, schools, offices and other entities within Brown.
These logo types have color variations and a stacked and horizontal orientation to allow for flexibility of use.
They allow for a maximum of two lines of text for the school or department name. When presented horizontally, the Brown name and text are always aligned with the top of the shield, and never extend below the bottom of the shield.
COLOR
They are presented in black and white, two-color or reverse only. Colors, typefaces and imagery should be consistent with Brown’s Visual Identity, outlined in this document.
Two-color or one-color treatments of department or sub identities should be used on white or black backgrounds, with the full-color logo (the full color coat of arms) as a treatment option reserved for full-color backgrounds.
USE OF “UNIVERSITY”
The 2003 visual identity policy officially removed the word "University" from the logo to elevate the Brown name. However, in rare cases, some units can be approved to include the word "University" for international audiences that may not recognize the Brown name alone as an academic institution.
For assistance with a logo for your department, school or program, contact visual_identity@brown.edu.
CORPORATION SEAL
AND IDENTITY
The use of the seal of the Corporation of Brown University is reserved for legal authentication of diplomas and other presidential or Corporation-affiliated documents and certificates. The only occasion on which it is used decoratively is on the cover of Commencement programs to carry the theme of the diploma.
When not a stamp or watermark, it may appear in black, brown PMS 476, or brown metallic PMS 8622. Any use of the Corporation seal must be approved by the Office of the Corporation.
HISTORY
Originally created in 1834, the Corporation seal is a circular disc with the inscription “Sigillum Universitatis Brunensis” around the edge, encircling the Coat of Arms consisting of a shield, crest and motto.
The official original description of the Coat of Arms is as follows:
“The Brown University arms as correctly blazoned are: Argent (silver or white), a cross gules (red) between four open books of the first (argent), bound of the second (gules). Crest: a demi-sun issuant radiant or (gold or yellow) through clouds argent. ... Motto: In Deo Speramus. The motto should be on a scroll below the shield.”
In ensuing years, the color specifications for the seal were removed, and the seal now appears in the one-color treatment described above.
OTHER VISUAL IDENTITY SYSTEMS
Within the University community, a small number of Brown entities have distinct identity systems, typically accompanying expansive branding and marketing strategies for specialized operations. Examples include Brown Annual Fund, BrownTogether, Brown Alumni Magazine, and Brown Athletics.
This includes also the informal use of the Brown wordmark – the Brown name without the Coat of Arms – typically appearing in varying weights and orientations of the Minion Pro typeface that appears in the official logo. This use is reserved exclusively for manufactured goods (approved through the University’s licensing program) and is not intended for University print or digital communications.
Some unique logos from other identity systems within Brown are shown here. Offices or departments seeking guidance on whether their identity systems are in alignment with the University’s Visual Identity Policy and Strategy should email visual_identity@brown.edu or contact the Office of University Communications.
CAMPAIGN AND ANNIVERSARY IDENTITIES AND LOGOS
During special anniversary celebrations and major fundraising campaigns, the University may employ a unique visual identity and logo with their own distinct sets of protocols and standards for use. Academic and administrative units should contact visual_identity@brown.edu for guidance on adopting these specialized identities.
For more information on any of these unique identities, please contact the communications managers for the units directly, or email visual_identity@brown.edu for assistance.
COLOR PALETTES AND APPLICATIONS
COLOR PALETTES AND APPLICATIONS
The colors associated with a visual identity become an instantly recognizable element of an institution, and therefore official colors play an important role in Brown’s visual identity.
PRIMARY COLOR PALETTE
There are four colors that make up Brown’s primary identity. To ensure consistency in production and reproduction, these colors cannot be lightened, darkened or otherwise adjusted. Please ensure that the correct color references are used at all times by following these specifications.
Red should always be used at 100% tint. The brown, silver and gold may be used at different screens for design purposes.
The following PANTONE, RGB, CMYK and Hexadecimal reference numbers have been carefully selected for the Brown University identity. PANTONE is the recognized industry standard color guide for the printing and design industry. CMYK is used for four-color printing, RGB for computer and electronic displays, and HEX specifically for Web communication.
In instances where vendors do not use these color numbers, such as when manufacturing clothing and other promotional items, use the printed examples as your guide to choose a color that best matches.
PANTONE: 2347C/U
CMYK: 0, 100, 100, 0
RGB: 237, 28, 36
HEX: #ED1C24
LAB: 51.67, 73.26, 53.02
PANTONE: 476C/U
CMYK: 30, 71, 75, 81
RGB: 78, 54, 41
HEX: #4E3629
LAB: 25, 11, 13
PANTONE: 123C / 115U
CMYK: 0, 22, 83, 0
RGB: 255, 199, 44
HEX: #FFC72C
LAB: 84, 13, 78
PANTONE: 7543C/U
CMYK: 24, 9, 8, 22
RGB: 152, 164, 174
HEX: #98A4AE
LAB: 67, 3, 7
MAY BE USED AT A 55% TINT OF THE SPOT COLOR, OR 15% BLACK FOR A LIGHTER GRAY.
SECONDARY COLOR PALETTE
A set of secondary colors that complement the colors in the primary visual identity allow for broader artistic expression while also harmonizing with the primary color palette. Composed of contemporary colors, the secondary color palette will be maintained as a flexible palette that may be updated as color trends shift over time.
The four colors that constitute the secondary color palette complement the primary brown (476c) and red (2347c), but also may be used with other colors from the primary color palette, or other colors of a designer’s choosing. These colors may be used at a 100% tint, or screened to other values as needed for design purposes.
- SKY BLUE
- PANTONE: 305C/U
- CMYK: 54, 0, 6, 0
- RGB: 89, 203, 232
- HEX: #59CBE8
- LAB: 75, 27, 26
- EMERALD
- PANTONE: 3275C
- CMYK: 90, 0, 52, 0
- RGB: 0, 179, 152
- HEX: #00B398
- LAB: 61, 71, 6
- NAVY
- PANTONE: 541C/U
- CMYK: 100, 58, 9, 46
- RGB: 0, 60, 113
- HEX: #003C71
- LAB: 23, 7, 39
- TAUPE
- PANTONE: 7535C/U
- CMYK: 10, 11, 23, 19
- RGB: 183, 176, 156
- HEX: #B7B09C
- LAB: 70, 3, 7
METALLIC COLOR PALETTE
There are four colors that compose Brown’s primary identity when printing with metallic ink. These colors cannot be lightened, darkened or otherwise adjusted. Please ensure that the correct color references are used at all times by following these specifications.
In instances where custom/specific colors are not an option, choose the colors that best match these breakdowns.
EXAMPLE COLORS SHOWN HERE DO NOT ACCURATELY REPRESENT ACTUAL PRINTED METALLIC INKS.
COLOR APPLICATIONS
Each logo specified within the Brown visual identity has four color variations, allowing for flexibility of use in different media. Examples of these color options are shown here. They are also available in metallic ink (see page 21 for more information).
The one-color reverse treatment is acceptable only on red, black and brown backgrounds. This is to avoid wide and varied color rendering of the logo, which generally is not permitted for trademarked logos.
The two-color or one-color version of the logo is for use on all other color backgrounds, with the Brown name appearing in white or black, depending on the background.
The full-color version of the logo is used for formal or ceremonial use, including formal invitations, formal programs, and ceremonial banners and signage. It also may be used on full-color backgrounds to render the logo prominently against multiple colors.
BROWN UNIVERSITY
VISUAL IDENTITY POLICY AND STRATEGY
TYPOGRAPHY
Typefaces and how they are arranged are as important to Brown’s identity as the use of color and graphics. Typography that is selected, arranged, and spaced well is what distinguishes professional print and digital publications.
Minion Pro is the primary serif typeface for Brown University. It appears in the Brown logo and is based on classic humanist type styles that date back to the Renaissance.
Freight Sans and Gotham Narrow are sans serif typefaces that combine contemporary design aspects with nostalgic elements of America’s past. These typefaces speak to Brown’s unique culture and integrated approach to higher education.
Having three typeface options allows for flexibility and creative expression. Minion Pro should be used in most instances as the primary body copy typeface at a minimum of 10pts, with Freight Sans and Gotham Narrow used as accent or heading typefaces. Other typefaces may be used at the designer’s discretion.
On these pages are just a few examples of the typeface style options that are available within each font family.
Brown University’s CIS Software Services unit maintains licenses for the use of these fonts for members of the University community. Minion Pro and Freight Sans are readily available without charge to Brown University faculty, staff and students through the Typekit asset in Adobe Creative Cloud. Visit software.brown.edu for more information. When these fonts are unavailable, use the alternative desktop and digital options recommended on Page 26.
**SERIF TYPEFACE**
**MINION PRO**
Regular:
```
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
```
Italic:
```
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
```
Semibold:
```
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
```
Semibold Italic:
```
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
```
Numerals: Minion Pro numerals should be used in either Proportional Lining or Tabular Old Style, depending on their meaning and placement. Generally speaking, Proportional figures are appropriate when numerals are going to be read in text, and Tabular figures are preferable when numerals will be read in columns, or are meant to stand out on their own. Tabular Old Style style is shown in this example.
SANS SERIF TYPEFACES
FREIGHT SANS
Book:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Book Italic:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Medium:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Medium Italic:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Bold:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Bold Italic:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
GOTHAM NARROW
Book:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Book Italic:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Medium:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Medium Italic:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Bold:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
Bold Italic:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890
### Desktop and Digital Options
Brown’s standard typefaces may not always be available in various desktop publishing applications or Web or digital interfaces, including email platforms and blogs.
When the official Brown standard fonts are unavailable, two of the most commonly available fonts, Georgia and Arial, should be used as substitutes to most closely match Brown’s official fonts.
#### Brown.edu
The Brown.edu website is governed by separate visual guidelines, distinct to its Web-based platform.
Consult the “Fonts & Colors” section of the Brown Web Style Guide online for visual standards for Brown University websites. These same guidelines also apply to digital, mobile-based applications.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Font</th>
<th>Regular</th>
<th>Italic</th>
<th>Bold</th>
<th>Bold Italic</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td><strong>Georgia</strong></td>
<td>ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcedfghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890</td>
<td>ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcedfghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890</td>
<td>ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcedfghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890</td>
<td>ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcedfghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>Arial</strong></td>
<td>ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcedfghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890</td>
<td>ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcedfghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890</td>
<td>ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcedfghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890</td>
<td>ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ abcedfghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz 1234567890</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
OVERVIEW
This guide to applying the visual identity standards was developed by a team of designers from across the University to help Brown’s academic and administrative units use the Brown Visual Identity Policy and Strategy to create effective, attractive and professional communications.
Additional guidance is available through the Office of University Communications.
The following pages include:
- Examples of Brown’s identity elements in standard print and digital publications
- Tips on effective use of images and photography
- Examples and templates for specialized uses, such as PowerPoint presentations, video intros, and social media icons
- Tips on applying identity standards to social media
- Guidance on independent logos and identities
APPLYING THE
IDENTITY TO STANDARD
PUBLICATIONS
LOGO PLACEMENT
The Brown logo (or specific unit logo) should be present on the front/cover of all printed communications. When the visual identity policy was first established in 2003, a core concern was the proliferation of publications without the prominent University identification needed to distinguish Brown’s programs from those of other institutions.
Depending on the communication’s scope, size and design, the logo may appear on the back cover in exceptional circumstances.
Additionally, the manner in which the logo is used within design should be handled carefully and respectfully. If used on top of a design element, the background should be simple and clear, not a busy area of the photograph or pattern, or against a color that is jarring to Brown’s official colors and identity.
Visual effects should be handled sparingly and respectfully, avoiding excessive animation and overlays.
EXAMPLES OF GOOD
LOGO PLACEMENT
GROUNDBREAKING
NEW ENGINEERING RESEARCH BUILDING
SCHOOL OF ENGINEERING
AT BROWN UNIVERSITY
OCTOBER 22, 2015
Master of Public Health
Learn Public Health by Doing Public Health
Master’s in Social Analysis and Research
APPLYING THE
IDENTITY TO STANDARD
PUBLICATIONS
USE OF COAT OF ARMS IN ISOLATION
As stated on page 8, the Brown University Coat of Arms may only be used in isolation in circumstances where the word “Brown” or “Brown University” appears very prominently in an adjacent treatment, as demonstrated in these examples of the masthead of the website or a publication.
APPLYING THE IDENTITY TO STANDARD PUBLICATIONS (CONTINUED)
COLOR
The primary color palette should be used as often as possible. The secondary color palette should be used to accent or complement the primary colors. See pages 19-22 for Brown University color specifications.
EXAMPLES OF GOOD COLOR USE
Always select and commit to a consistent body copy throughout your publication. Brown’s standard is Minion or Minion Pro "Regular" at minimum 10pt size, Freight Sans at 10pt size or Gotham Narrow at 9pt size. Body copy should remain unjustified and minimally hyphenated or unhyphenated when possible. Left-aligned body copy is preferable. Avoid the urge to right-align or force-justify copy; it creates superficial and often awkward spacing.
Freight Sans, Gotham Narrow and Minion Pro have been selected as Brown’s official fonts because they look attractive together. When using a sans-serif font for body text, Minion Pro should ideally be used as the heading or secondary typeface, and vice versa.
When the official Brown standard fonts are unavailable, two of the most commonly available fonts, Georgia and Arial, should be used as substitutes to most closely match Brown’s official fonts.
Other typefaces and treatments may be used sparingly (and consistently) as the title or theme of a specific event or program, depending upon the scope of the project.
INDEPENDENT LOGOS
The spirit of independence and creativity is among Brown’s strengths. And in that spirit, departments and programs are often drawn to create unique logos for themselves, sometimes so unique that it disassociates them from the University itself, or undermines their goals of projecting prestige or professionalism.
Offices and programs must seek guidance from the Office of University Communications before choosing to develop a unique identity or logo, and especially before engaging a designer or marketing/branding firm to help.
These considerations can help guide departments and programs deciding whether to pursue an independent logo:
- Assess carefully whether a unique identity is a strategic or promotional necessity, and ensure that it will not lead to perceived disassociation from the University.
- Consider what role the name recognition of the established Brown logo and identity may have in building the reputation of your department or program.
- Determine what marketing resources your unit will be able to devote to building new brand recognition of a new logo in a crowded marketplace where logos compete for attention.
- Review whether your department’s own photographs, videos and stories can capture uniqueness and personality as immediately and emotionally as a conceptual logo.
If your assessment leads you to pursue an independent logo:
- Use Brown’s design resources or a Brown-approved vendor who understands the University’s message, character and identity standards well. This can help avoid expending resources while a new designer or firm “discovers” Brown for themselves. It also ensures your identity is aligned with the larger Brown identity.
- Your logo must include the word “Brown” or “Brown University” to establish clearly your affiliation with the University.
- Do not manipulate or alter the Brown logo to incorporate it into your unique logo.
- On print or digital communications bearing your logo, the Brown University logo should also be displayed (e.g., if your unique logo is on the front cover, the University logo could be displayed in a band at the bottom of the cover, or on the back cover).
USE OF THE BROWN LOGO WITH OTHER LOGOS
When the University co-sponsors an initiative or event as an equal partner with external academic, community or corporate entities, the Brown logo should be presented as equal in scale and importance to the other logos.
Care must be taken to ensure ample clear space is provided between the logos—to either side and above and below—to avoid any mistaken suggestion of merger or dependence. Partner or co-sponsor logos should never be combined by touching, overlapping, or using a graphic element to join the distinct logos.
Proper permissions, specifications and requirements should be obtained from all co-sponsoring organizations before using their logos in Brown University publications or media.
For further guidance with co-sponsor logos, please contact visual_identity@brown.edu.
Images should be used to draw a viewer into a publication and to add a deeper understanding of the information being communicated in text.
For the most effective visual storytelling, use one or two larger images rather than multiple smaller images. "Less is more" because it allows the viewer to focus on the key concepts being communicated, and will help keep the designs clean and concise.
Imagery should tell a story whenever possible, and the obvious image is not always the freshest or most compelling choice. Genuine engagement between people, facial expressions, emotion and feeling create a relatable response in the viewer and can make a lasting impression.
Imagery should reflect Brown’s unique understanding of higher education, its diverse and inclusive community, and open and expansive curriculum. Ensure that images encompass multiple disciplines and represent a diversity of people and engaging points of view.
It is always best to schedule a professional photographer, when the time and budget allow. The Brown Image Gallery is also available for use by the Brown University community and contains a growing variety of professional photographs for use on printed and digital media. For more information, visit brown.widencollective.com.
All published images must comply with Browns’ image use permission policy, available on the University Communications website. For help with imagery selection, options or use, please email visual_identity@brown.edu or contact the Office of University Communications.
BROWN PHOTOGRAPHY
BASIC TECHNICAL GUIDELINES
BASIC COMPOSITION
A photograph’s composition – the position of different elements within the frame – tells the viewer what the subject is within the context and interest needed to make the image compelling. A common composition technique, the “rule of thirds,” is demonstrated below. Divide the frame into nine squares of roughly equal size. Align the subject along one of these intersections. This creates a more dramatic, visually interesting shot than one where the subject is located dead center.
WHITE BALANCE
White balance issues occur most commonly when the subject is lit by unnatural or multiple sources of light. When the white balance is off, all the colors in the photograph will be inaccurate, with an overall yellow, green or orange hue. This will give the photograph (and the publication) an unprofessional or unimportant appearance. Whenever possible, use natural lighting or the camera’s automatic white balancing feature to help eliminate this issue.
LIGHTING
Bad lighting obscures a photograph’s subject and diminishes the professionalism of the communication. Dark shadows on the subject’s face, halos, and silhouettes can all ruin a good photograph. When shooting outdoors, ensure that the subject is not lit harshly from behind or from one side, and when necessary, use the camera’s flash to fill in shadows.
RESOLUTION AND SCALING
Using low-resolution, stretched or blurry images will diminish the professionalism of a print or digital publication. For most printed materials, a photograph should be at least 300 dpi at actual printed size. For digital or Web images, you can use a lower resolution of 72 dpi at actual size. Never stretch or distort your images to fill a space. All images should be scaled proportionally.
Social media identity guidelines are meant to help the followers of Brown social media platforms instantly and easily recognize your account as officially associated with the University.
The graphic identity of an account that meets Brown’s social media identity standards is consistent, visual and unique, as described below.
**Consistent:**
- Profile pictures, or avatars, should be the same across all digital platforms. For example, your profile picture on Instagram should always match your profile picture on Twitter, SnapChat, Facebook, etc. Your audience will come to recognize your account by your profile picture, so it should rarely, if ever, change.
- Cover photos, the horizontal images across the top of most social media profiles, should also match across platforms. Cover photos can be changed on a regular basis according to current events happening in your area of social media coverage or something more general, such as the seasons.
- Your account name should be the same across platforms as well. For example:
- facebook.com/BrownUniversity
- twitter.com/BrownUniversity
- youtube.com/BrownUniversity
**Visual:**
Profile pictures and cover photos should consist of images (a photo or text-free logo) instead of words. Text on a profile picture is often too small to be seen on a mobile device, which is often what your audience uses to access your content. Including the name of your department, unit or group in your profile picture is also unnecessary because it is listed on your profile and next to every post you publish across platforms. Cover photos are best as images as well. They will resize differently on desktop and mobile, so text often gets cut off or covered depending on the device a visitor uses to access your social media profile.
**Unique:**
While your accounts should be unified in name, cover photo and profile picture, no image should be the same as another Brown account’s image. This will allow our audience members to differentiate between accounts and make it easier to find yours while scrolling through a feed.
Accounts must meet standards to be cross-promoted through the primary Brown University social media accounts.
The social media staff in the Office of University Communications manages the primary Brown University social media accounts and leads the University community in strategic social media efforts. If you manage an account that does not meet identity standards, please contact the social media team at social-media@brown.edu or email visual_identity@brown.edu for guidance.
The standard letterhead design features the University wordmark in the horizontal format at the top left to clearly emphasize the Brown name. At the top right, either the specific unit or an individual’s name and title are highlighted. The full University name and address are at the bottom of the sheet.
Similarly, the business card features the horizontal wordmark to the left and space to the right to accommodate all manner of titles and addresses. The Brown University name should always be the first line of the address block.
Specialty stationery for distinct purposes – for example, for presidential, Corporation or international use – may reflect variations of this standard template, but must remain in line with policies for the use of the Coat of Arms and other aspects of the Brown visual identity.
For assistance with stationery design and ordering, visit www.brown.edu/webmaster/visual_identity/stationery.
STANDARD TEMPLATES
Standardized digital templates and graphics for Microsoft Office presentations and documents, video intros and endings, and other repeatable projects ensure work has a professional, attractive, consistent and readable appearance.
The Office of University Communications can provide the following:
- Microsoft PowerPoint presentation templates
- Microsoft Word stationery templates
- Microsoft Word fax and memo templates
- video “bumpers” for intro and ending
- email signatures
These templates are designed for easy use and can be obtained at brown.edu/communications/templates.
FOR MORE INFORMATION ON:
The Brown University Visual Identity Policy and Strategy
Editorial style guidelines
Web standards or practices
Accessing logo files
Review of new logo requests
PLEASE CONTACT:
visual_identity@brown.edu
© 2016 Brown University
The Brown Visual Identity Policy and Strategy was created by the Office of University Communications and its Graphic Services unit. |
Greetings. I hope everyone is thawing out from the late winter we have experienced, and hope this letter finds you all well. There’s been a lot of activity during the last two months that I would like to share with you.
In January we held our annual retreat to plan for the upcoming year and install our current Officers. There were a few Agenda items we addressed that you may find interesting.
We are continuing to step up our efforts to help Associate Members become Licensed Architects. A resource center is being developed to help defer the cost associated to take the test by providing study guides. Additionally, we are considering a separate Associate’s track for our state convention, which will be geared to aid in IDP and prepare the candidates for the test.
After a full year in development, the implementation of the new AIA Arkansas web site was reviewed and approved. We are very pleased with the site and look forward to getting it up and running. Special thanks to Eldon Bock, Wallie Sprick, Wesley Walls, Joie Ketchum and Al Gore bringing us into the 21st Century.
Arkansas Business has approached us with an opportunity to publish a selection of our design award entries in a special supplement. While there are a number of details that we need to overcome before making this a reality for this year, we are very excited about the prospect of the statewide exposure this publication offers to our membership.
We are also looking to revamp and expand ARCHPAC to make it a more effective tool. One concept is a “Champion’s Breakfast”, where on a Sectional basis, approximately 10 AIA members will meet with a Candidate for breakfast. So, be prepared. To make this a success we’ll be asking for broader participation from the membership.
AIA National is initiating a celebration for the 150th anniversary of AIA in 2007. “AIA 150” is a grassroots effort, which Bill Wiedower has called “Blueprint For America”. In our case, each of our four sections will be encouraged to come up with a project involving a City/County entity, such as aiding the homeless, affordable housing, accessibility issues, etc. The “Blueprint for America” will assist with funding and support for project completion. Your section leadership is in the process of putting the teams together to produce the “Blueprint”. I encourage you to visit the AIA150 area of the AIA website, to see some of the ways the AIA has worked to make the profession better. Anyone interested in helping plan this celebration should contact their section chair or Bill Wiedower AIA, AIA150 Champion Chairman, or Joie at AIA Office.
On Sunday November 6, Brent Stevenson and I hopped on a plane for a quick overnight meeting outside of Washington D.C. We started with seminars/meetings at 4:00 pm and ran until 4:00 pm the next day learning about AIA150 - the celebration of the 150th year since the founding of the AIA.
The National AIA has put together a great group of leaders to celebrate this momentous occasion, and intends to launch a high profile celebration.
If you’ve looked at the monthly email newsletter from AIA/National, you’ve seen the AIA150 link at the top right of the homepage. National AIA has elected to celebrate the 150 year history of the AIA in the spring of 2007 with a series of projects involving each component’s membership.
Arkansas Participates in AIA 150
Technology Marches On
The transition to “widescreen video formats” has an immediate affect on the design and installation of A/V facilities. These changing formats impact selection and compatibility of all components. Demonstration rooms at Jay Stanley & Associates have been redesigned to preview and plan new HDTV technology.
To learn more about the benefits and design challenges of new technology, contact Jay Stanley or Logan Campbell for a preview or to discuss new projects.
jst.l absurd@jaystanley.com
logan.campbell@jaystanley.com
501-758-8029.
Do you want your projects to be recognized by a national audience? They could be, if you’ve designed a breakthrough project using clay brick.
We are pleased to invite you to submit your best work for the 2006 Brick in Architecture Awards. The largest and most prestigious juried competition of its kind, the Brick in Architecture Awards showcase the best non-residential work in clay face and paving brick from architects across the country.
Brick in Architecture Award winners will be recognized in national media, from special coverage in Brick News Online and Brick in Architecture magazine to a special insert in Architectural Record!
The 2006 awards competition will be conducted entirely online. Complete information on eligibility, submission requirements, categories, and judging is available at: www.gobrick.com/html_public/BinA2006_info.html
Deadline for submission of all entries is April 28, 2006.
Brick makes a lasting statement — and winning this award could solidify your name in architecture. Log on today and submit your entry to the 2006 Brick in Architecture Awards!
11490 Commerce Park Drive | Suite 300 | Reston, VA 20191 | 703-620-0010
Arkansas Associate member selected as the 2006 AssociateNews editor.
Murrye Bernard, of Polk Stanley Rowland Curzon Porter Architects, Ltd. of Little Rock, Arkansas, has been selected as the 2006 editor for AssociateNews, the monthly email newsletter of the American Institute of Architect’s (AIA) National Associates Committee (NAC). The newsletter contains articles and news, a calendar of national events, and information on NAC initiatives and AIA programs at both the local and national levels.
As editor, Bernard will be responsible for directing the newsletter and developing the content for each issue, which is currently distributed monthly to over 13,000 Associate members of the AIA.
Bernard was selected after submitting a statement, resume, and letter of recommendation in response to a call for nominations in a recent issue of AssociateNews. Writing has always been a passion for Bernard, and she is honored to accept this position and looks forward to the opportunity to provide a voice for the Associate community while keeping members informed of local and national issues.
We will be conducting a study that will allow us to gather your opinions (for/against) ARE IDP concurrency. During the week of March 27th, we will send out an e-mail survey/petition that will only take you 10 seconds to complete. Please participate as your opinion on this manner is of high importance to the registration process in Arkansas.
www.archvoices.org/advocacy
The AIA board of directors met on January 13th and 14th at Big Cedar Lodge near Branson, Missouri, to set in motion the year’s activities. Jim Yeary, President, opened the meeting early Friday morning. Important items affecting the AIA were on the agenda.
Legislative update and concerns for Architects were itemized by Phil Purifoy and a hearty discussion followed. This is something that affects us all as Architects and we all need to be aware of what we are facing in 2006. Brent Stevenson gave us an overview on ARCHPAC and a plan for contributing the same.
Galen Hunter, AIA treasurer went through the 2005 budget and Thad Kelly reported an estimated budget for 2006. Thanks to all the board members and volunteers that made it a very successful 2005. A lot of hard work went into making 2005 an exceptional year and the board made note of this.
Discussion of communications within the association, led by Thad Kelly, and AGC, led by Wallie Sprick kept the other board members informed of not only the past, but the planned future activities.
Candi Adams gave us an Associates report in an effort to keep us up to date on their accomplishments and ways that we as a group can assist them.
Wesley Walls reported on our association with the University of Arkansas and some of the programs that we are doing together.
Our Executive Director Brent Stevenson gave us an overview on how our AIA is working presently, how we can fine tune it, and how we should plan for the future.
Section reports were given by the Section Chairs, Northwest (Rich Brya), Ft. Smith (Mike LeJong), East (Mark Cahoon) and Central (Russ Fason).
Other items covered were the State Convention in Hot Springs (Wallie Sprick), Gulf States Report (Jeff Steling) and AIA 150 by Bill Wiedower, a celebration of 150 years of AIA.
A wonderful turnout for the planning retreat indicated the sincere concern that is taken by the board members for their assignments. We have a great 2006 board and I urge all the members to assist whenever they are asked. Looking forward to the best year ever!
The entire AIA board thanks CAD-SCAN and Today’s Office for sponsoring the events. We really appreciate your help in making it such a success. Thanks again.
Welcome New Members
Rachel Bourne, Assoc. AIA
Lloyd Mack Elrod, Jr., AIA
Jose Thompson, Assoc. AIA
James Stephen West, Assoc. AIA
Clint Rowland Whitley, Assoc. AIA
Welcome New Allied Members
Central States Manufacturing Inc.
Anne Nierengarten, Lowell, AR 72745
CONGRATULATIONS
Newly Licensed Architects
Ken Amburgy, AIA
Mark Watts, AIA
Chasen Brown Garrett, AIA
John D. Johnson, AIA
Stacey L. Issinghoff, AIA
Thomas D. Little, AIA
ATTENTION
AIA MEMBERS
We will be conducting a study that will allow us to gather your opinions (for/against) ARE IDP concurrency. During the week of March 27th, we will send out an e-mail survey/petition that will only take you 10 seconds to complete. Please participate as your opinion on this manner is of high importance to the registration process in Arkansas.
www.archvoices.org/advocacy
Calendar of Events
March 28
Central Section Business Meeting
March 31
Northwest Section
“Birds in Paradise”
March 31-April 1
UA School of Architecture 60th Anniversary
April 20
East Section BPI Luncheon
April 25
East Section Luncheon
May 19
Central Section Golf Tournament
May 22
Northwest Arkansas Golf Tournament
May 30
Central Section Art & Architecture lecture
May 31
Ft. Smith Section
“Emergency Response Products”
November 15
State Convention
Golf Tournament
November 16-18
State Convention
Classifieds
Fort Smith Architectural firm specializing in higher education, healthcare, and civic projects looking for intern architect with 1-3 years experience. Must be experienced in Autodesk Architectural Desktop. Design and rendering capabilities a plus. Benefits provided. Salary negotiable. Please contact us @ 479-782-1051 or info@mahgarch.com.
Architect - Small design-oriented firm is looking for an experienced and motivated architect with ownership aspirations. Proven project management and client communication skills, enthusiasm and commitment. Ability to lead projects from programming through construction documents into construction administration. Must be proficient in AutoCad. All replies kept confidential. 501.244.0005 or fax 501.244.0011 Architects@renshawfirm.com.
Applied Technology Group, Inc, Autodesk Revit Technology Group, Inc, and the Society of Design Administration (SDA) to participate in CANSTRUCTION this October.
Are You Green?
With today’s rapidly increasing energy costs, green building design not only makes sense but is vital to the profitability of the architect and the building owner. But how do you take the current design process to incorporate green building design?
The first step is getting LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) Certified. The LEED Green Building Rating System is a national standard for resource-smart, sustainable buildings. As the adoption of the standard grows, many building owner/operators are requiring that their new building projects achieve LEED certification. A high LEED rating recognizes the quality of a green building design and also qualifies the project for an array of state and local government incentives – an important benefit to the building owner.
NE Section Report
Thanks to the hard work of Steve Schoettle, the Northeast Arkansas Section already has several programs scheduled for 2006. In January we had a presentation by Degussa Wall Systems (Senergy) regarding EIFS and stucco systems. Our March program will be by Larry Marley of ABT, regarding engineered trench drainage systems. Other programs scheduled for the year include presentations by BPI, Duro-Last Roofing Inc., Space Savers, high density storage systems, Armstrong tile flooring and Alcoa home exteriors. Plans are being made with our local Food Bank and the Society of Design Administration (SDA) to participate in CANSTRUCTION this October.
Albert Frankengerber, treasure, tells me our bank balance is looking good for the year, but AIA Arkansas can be sure we will submit our share of invoices this year.
Respectfully,
Mark O.Cahoon, AIA CahoonSteiling | Studio Architecture 915 Southwest Drive Jonesboro, AR 72401 v. 870-933-6993 f. 870-933-6988 c. 870-897-2756
Gold Ribbon Sponsors
Acme Brick Company
Scotty Freebairn
Mike Anderson
John Bufford
(501) 812-5574
CAD-SCAN, INC.
Brian Beck
Darren Bobbitt
David Geer
(501) 876-2446
Innerplan Office Interiors
Chris Cerrato
Paul Holland
(501) 371-0900
Nabholz Construction Corporation
Stan Hobbs, AIA
Bill Hannah
Brad Hegeman
(501) 505-5800
Ramsey, Krug, Farrell & Lensing, Inc.
Alfred L. Williams
Kevin Bruick
Ken Estes
(501) 664-7705
Southern Reprographics, Inc.
Phillip McColey
Pam Brawley
Farris Lance
(501) 372-4011
Jay S. Stanley & Associates, Inc.
Jay Stanley
Scott Stanley
Logan Campbell
(501) 758-8029
Today’s Office Inc.
Rhonda Bradley
Missy Holley
Katie Escavedo
Keeley Claude
(501) 375-5050
2005 was a very successful year for the Fort Smith section. Our section had nine luncheon meetings throughout the year; with most of them being hosted by our allied members. We were able to offer 10 CEU credits for the year with 7 of them being HSW. In the fall, our 16th annual Nathan McDaniel Golf Tournament raised nearly $1000 for First Tee and $1000 for our scholarship fund to the U of A. We wrapped up the year with a Christmas party at Talliano’s Italian restaurant. We had great fellowship, a delicious lunch, live music and a slide show of our section’s current projects.
Larry Hall of BHM Architects will be our sections Program Director for 2006. We appreciate Larry’s willingness to organize our programs and look forward to him continuing the enthusiasm and participation that has been building in our section over the past several years.
So far this year we’ve had lunch programs sponsored by Walco Architectural Products/Berridge Roofing and by Cornell Iron Works. Upcoming in 2006 we have Siplast Roofing tentatively scheduled for a mid-March luncheon. Cornell Ironworks will host another luncheon on May 31st to put on a program for “Emergency Response Products”
Michael Lewis LeJong, AIA / 2006 Fort Smith Section Chair
Williams & Dean Associated Architects, Inc., celebrating their 30th year, announces the following promotions and additions to the firm.
- Project Architect Terry Watson promoted to Principal of the firm.
- Architectural Intern and Licensed Interior Designer Robin Halbert-Petty promoted to Principal of Williams & Dean and Director of WD Interiors, a division of Williams & Dean Associated Architects, Inc.
- Mark Watts and John Johnson have recently passed the Architect Registration Exam and are being promoted to Project Architect.
- Beth Reed joins WD Interiors as an Interior Designer.
- Jeffrey Lance Bennings joins the firm as an Architectural Intern.
Terry Watson, a 1988 Bachelor of Architecture graduate of the University of Arkansas joined the firm in 1993. After receiving his license in 1996 he was named Project Architect. Watson has been responsible for the design of many of the firm’s most significant projects in the last decade, where he has acquired expertise in office, retail, and medical facility design.
Robin Halbert-Petty joined W&D in September of 1998 upon completing her Bachelor of Science in Engineering Technology degree with focus on Architectural Technology from University of Memphis. While working as an architectural intern Halbert-Petty developed an interest and talent focused on Interior Design. Pursuing that she became an NCIDQ certified Designer, which led to her receiving a license from the Arkansas State Board of Interior Designers. The American Society of Interior Designers has notified Halbert-Petty that she will be receiving 3 design awards at the ASID Regional Convention in May.
Mark Watts has been with W&D since May of 2004. He received his Bachelor of Architecture degree from the University of Arkansas in 1996. Watts is currently the project architect for a new automobile dealership and multiple offices throughout the state for a leading real estate company.
John Johnson joined W&D in September of 1996. He is a 1992 Bachelor of Architecture graduate of the University of Arkansas. During his career at W&D John has made an impact on the design of the firm’s multi-family housing projects and banking facilities.
Beth Reed has joined WD Interiors as a full-time Interior Designer. Reed had been working at W&D this fall as part of her internship to receive her Interior Design degree from the University of Central Arkansas.
Jeffrey Lance Bennings, a December 2005 Bachelor of Architecture graduate of the University of Arkansas, is the latest addition to the firm. As a student Lance was awarded the Brackett-Krennerich Scholarship for International Travel and had work published in Arquine and At Home in Arkansas magazines.
Central Section News
Central Section together with the Arkansas Arts Center is setting up a 2006/2007 lecture series with some exciting architects and developers from around the country. We will also continue to bring lectures down in conjunction with the UofA. We are working with the lecturers to finalize dates and you will receive e-mails as the dates are scheduled with the Arts Center Facilities. We think the joint AIA/Arts Center meetings are beneficial to both groups and are trying to develop a seasonal lecture series that will be educational and entertaining for both groups.
Central Section is also excited to now offer the complete study guides for the Architectural Registration Exam. There are study guides, question and answer books and sample test CDrom’s for all nine divisions. These are available at the AIA office in Little Rock to check out for free on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1-4pm. A deposit will be taken to ensure they stay in good condition for all members and returned when the materials are returned. We also now have a partnership with Kaplan where any member or associate can receive 20% off their purchase on www.Kaplanarchitecture.com by entering the code AIA501 when checking out. We hope these things make the goal of licensure more attainable.
There will be a Central Section Business Meeting Tuesday March 28th at the Arkansas Arts Center at 6pm. We will have some beer and social time before; then get down to business at 6:30. Items on the agenda are section dues, chair terms, events and lectures, and next year’s section chair! We’d like to have an open discussion about what the other sections are doing in their programs and what we’d like the future of Central Section to look like. Bring some ideas and or comments. I hope everyone will make an effort to attend, the more people we have input from the better the section will be.
Silver Ribbon Co-Sponsors
**Applied Technology Group**
Jeff Jenkins
Andy Hicks
(501) 372-2373
**Block USA**
Bob Faust
(501) 296-9799
**Curtis H. Stout, Inc.**
Becky Major
Melissa Stickford
(501) 374-6694
**DuPont Tyvek® Weatherization Systems**
Mark Edds, CSI, CDT
(501) 804-7889
**Hubble–Mitchell & Associates, Inc.**
Chris Hubble
Nathan Ragsdill
(501) 312-2700
**Kinco Constructors, LLC**
Art Kinnaman
Tom Mitchell
(501) 225-7606
**Lighting Power & Solutions, Inc.**
Ashley Gartman
Don Henderson
(501) 374-2155
**Long Sales Agency**
Randall Scott Long
Andy Pool
(501) 374-3088
**Workplace Resource of Little Rock**
Shannon Montgomery
(501) 244-9696
Associate News
My name is Candi Adams and as your 2006 Arkansas AIA Associate representative, I would like to welcome each of you to exchange your ideas regarding the different aspects of our profession, particularly as they relate to specific interests and concerns regarding the path to licensure. There are several initiatives that I am especially interested in pursuing this year to directly address and benefit the associate members within our state. Some of them are issues such as an associate-friendly schedule at this year’s state AIA convention, associate’s webpage, ARE study sessions, ARE/IPD concurrency, and any other suggestions that you might have.
Although this year’s state convention plans are still underway, some of the suggestions include the Associate’s luncheon, roundtable discussions regarding internship/licensure, ARE study seminars, and lectures/discussions from people of particular interest to Associates. Hopefully, the construction “bubble” is to be combined with the opportunity to gain IPD community service hours.
Ideas in the works for the associate’s website include links such as NCARB, IPD, ARE, National Assoc. Committee, Young Architects Forum, Emerging Young Professionals, ArchVoices, etc. To also be included are awards/recognition, announcements, community service event calendars to assist with IPD credits, pictures, and perhaps even an “Associates Spotlight” where we would identify individual associates across Arkansas.
Because becoming licensed professionals is a primary aspect of many Associate’s careers, it is important that there are local prospects available to ensure your success in achieving such a goal. This year, AIA Arkansas has purchased the NCARB study guides available to interns interested in checking them out. There is no cost as long as the guides are returned in good condition and in a timely manner. Along with these guides, we are working toward the availability of local ARE study sessions geared directly toward the exams.
Many of you are well aware of a concept that has already begun to take place in several states across the nation, and that is the opportunity for interns to take portions of the ARE simultaneously while documenting IPD credits. This is definitely an issue to consider in our state as well. It is something that we, as associates, with a well-considered proposal, should at least discuss with the Arkansas State Board of Architects.
If you would like to help with any of these issues or have any new suggestions, please let me know. This is a great opportunity for those of you who want to get involved and didn’t known how. We are the future of our profession and here we are presented with the opportunity to make a difference. I will greatly appreciate your support, and I certainly look forward to a productive 2006.
New Chapter Website Coming Soon!
Continuing to expanded member services, AIA Arkansas announces a new chapter website! To be unveiled at the end of March, the new website (www.aiaar.org) has been carefully designed to serve both as a tool for the practicing professional and as a resource for clients soliciting design services.
Designed by Sitler & Henry, the website presents on overview of the chapter’s Mission and Benefits, and offers features such as a “Membership Directory” that is searchable by firm or member name, an “Events Calendar” which will convey all chapter and section events, direct links to this newsletter “Columns”, and an overview of our “Allied Membership Program” which contains Allied membership information and a searchable database of current Allied Members.
We truly hope you enjoy the website and that it becomes a great resource for you and your clients. A huge thanks goes out to Wesley Walls, AIA, Wallie Sprick and Eldon Bock for their tireless effort in overseeing the design and implementation of the new site!
NW Section Report
“Things will be busy in the NW section this spring. We have several lunch and learn lectures lined up and more being scheduled.
For the second year in row we are sponsoring “Birds in Paradise”, an auction benefiting the Elizabeth Richardson Center preschool in Fayetteville. Birdhouses designed and built by architects, artists, builders and others will be auctioned off, and a good time will be had by all. The event is March 31 at the alumni house on the U of A campus. If you are in town for the 60th reunion at the architecture school, you might want to come to the event. We are also still looking for birdhouse from some of you in the rest of the state.
Our NW section golf tournament will be held on May 22 at Stonebridge Meadows in Fayetteville, and we welcome you all to come up and play. It will be a 1:00 pm shotgun start. There is no better place than spring in the Ozarks, and we will provide the beer.
Edward Richardson Brya, AIA 3GD inc.
214 South Second Street
Rogers, AR 72756
479.636.5550
Late Fay Jones Receives AIA 25 Year Award
Article Courtesy of University of Arkansas School of Architecture
FAYETTEVILLE, Ark. - Time stops when you step into Thorncrown Chapel, the airy glass jewel outside Eureka Springs designed by the late Fay Jones, former dean and professor emeritus of the University of Arkansas School of Architecture. The American Institute of Architects will recognize the timeless quality of Jones’ masterwork with the 2006 Twenty-five Year Award, given to architectural design that has stood the test of time.
With this award Jones’ Thorncrown Chapel joins a distinguished group of architectural landmarks. Other recipients of the AIA Twenty-five Year Award include Philip Johnson’s “Glass House” in New Canaan, Conn.; Louis Kahn’s Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth; Eero Saarinen’s Gateway Arch in St. Louis; and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York City, designed by Jones’ mentor, Frank Lloyd Wright.
Thorncrown Chapel was Jones’ first chapel commission and propelled him to international stature. The chapel received an AIA honor award in 1981 and ranks fourth on the AIA’s list of top 10 buildings in the 20th century. A member of the UA School of Architecture’s first graduating class and the school’s first dean, Jones chose to continue working and teaching in Fayetteville, designing 140 homes and 15 chapels and churches in 21 states across the United States. At a White House ceremony in 1990, he was awarded the highest professional honor an American architect can receive, the Gold Medal of the American Institute of Architects.
Fay Jones, former dean and professor emeritus of the University of Arkansas School of Architecture, will accept the honor on behalf of her late husband at the Accent on Architecture Gala in Washington, D.C., on Feb. 11.
For the full list of Twenty-five Year Award recipients visit http://www.aia.org/twentyfiveyear_award.
Thorncrown Chapel is closed to the public in January and February. For directions and visiting hours, visit http://www.thorncrown.com/.
Late Fay Jones Receives AIA 25 Year Award
Article Courtesy of University of Arkansas School of Architecture
FAYETTEVILLE, Ark. - Time stops when you step into Thorncrown Chapel, the airy glass jewel outside Eureka Springs designed by the late Fay Jones, former dean and professor emeritus of the University of Arkansas School of Architecture. The American Institute of Architects will recognize the timeless quality of Jones’ masterwork with the 2006 Twenty-five Year Award, given to architectural design that has stood the test of time.
With this award Jones’ Thorncrown Chapel joins a distinguished group of architectural landmarks. Other recipients of the AIA Twenty-five Year Award include Philip Johnson’s “Glass House” in New Canaan, Conn.; Louis Kahn’s Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth; Eero Saarinen’s Gateway Arch in St. Louis; and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York City, designed by Jones’ mentor, Frank Lloyd Wright.
Thorncrown Chapel was Jones’ first chapel commission and propelled him to international stature. The chapel received an AIA honor award in 1981 and ranks fourth on the AIA’s list of top 10 buildings in the 20th century. A member of the UA School of Architecture’s first graduating class and the school’s first dean, Jones chose to continue working and teaching in Fayetteville, designing 140 homes and 15 chapels and churches in 21 states across the United States. At a White House ceremony in 1990, he was awarded the highest professional honor an American architect can receive, the Gold Medal of the American Institute of Architects. Jones died at home on Aug. 30, 2004, and is survived by his wife Gus and two daughters.
“I know Fay would be so pleased to be included on a list with all of his architectural heroes,” Gus Jones said, adding that they had visited most of the buildings on the list. Jones will accept the honor on behalf of her late husband at the Accent on Architecture Gala in Washington, D.C., on Feb. 11.
For the full list of Twenty-five Year Award recipients visit http://www.aia.org/twentyfiveyear_award.
Thorncrown Chapel is closed to the public in January and February. For directions and visiting hours, visit http://www.thorncrown.com/.
Late Fay Jones Receives AIA 25 Year Award
Article Courtesy of University of Arkansas School of Architecture
FAYETTEVILLE, Ark. - Time stops when you step into Thorncrown Chapel, the airy glass jewel outside Eureka Springs designed by the late Fay Jones, former dean and professor emeritus of the University of Arkansas School of Architecture. The American Institute of Architects will recognize the timeless quality of Jones’ masterwork with the 2006 Twenty-five Year Award, given to architectural design that has stood the test of time.
With this award Jones’ Thorncrown Chapel joins a distinguished group of architectural landmarks. Other recipients of the AIA Twenty-five Year Award include Philip Johnson’s “Glass House” in New Canaan, Conn.; Louis Kahn’s Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth; Eero Saarinen’s Gateway Arch in St. Louis; and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York City, designed by Jones’ mentor, Frank Lloyd Wright.
Thorncrown Chapel was Jones’ first chapel commission and propelled him to international stature. The chapel received an AIA honor award in 1981 and ranks fourth on the AIA’s list of top 10 buildings in the 20th century. A member of the UA School of Architecture’s first graduating class and the school’s first dean, Jones chose to continue working and teaching in Fayetteville, designing 140 homes and 15 chapels and churches in 21 states across the United States. At a White House ceremony in 1990, he was awarded the highest professional honor an American architect can receive, the Gold Medal of the American Institute of Architects. Jones died at home on Aug. 30, 2004, and is survived by his wife Gus and two daughters.
“I know Fay would be so pleased to be included on a list with all of his architectural heroes,” Gus Jones said, adding that they had visited most of the buildings on the list. Jones will accept the honor on behalf of her late husband at the Accent on Architecture Gala in Washington, D.C., on Feb. 11.
For the full list of Twenty-five Year Award recipients visit http://www.aia.org/twentyfiveyear_award.
Thorncrown Chapel is closed to the public in January and February. For directions and visiting hours, visit http://www.thorncrown.com/.
Late Fay Jones Receives AIA 25 Year Award
Article Courtesy of University of Arkansas School of Architecture
FAYETTEVILLE, Ark. - Time stops when you step into Thorncrown Chapel, the airy glass jewel outside Eureka Springs designed by the late Fay Jones, former dean and professor emeritus of the University of Arkansas School of Architecture. The American Institute of Architects will recognize the timeless quality of Jones’ masterwork with the 2006 Twenty-five Year Award, given to architectural design that has stood the test of time.
With this award Jones’ Thorncrown Chapel joins a distinguished group of architectural landmarks. Other recipients of the AIA Twenty-five Year Award include Philip Johnson’s “Glass House” in New Canaan, Conn.; Louis Kahn’s Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth; Eero Saarinen’s Gateway Arch in St. Louis; and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York City, designed by Jones’ mentor, Frank Lloyd Wright.
Thorncrown Chapel was Jones’ first chapel commission and propelled him to international stature. The chapel received an AIA honor award in 1981 and ranks fourth on the AIA’s list of top 10 buildings in the 20th century. A member of the UA School of Architecture’s first graduating class and the school’s first dean, Jones chose to continue working and teaching in Fayetteville, designing 140 homes and 15 chapels and churches in 21 states across the United States. At a White House ceremony in 1990, he was awarded the highest professional honor an American architect can receive, the Gold Medal of the American Institute of Architects. Jones died at home on Aug. 30, 2004, and is survived by his wife Gus and two daughters.
“I know Fay would be so pleased to be included on a list with all of his architectural heroes,” Gus Jones said, adding that they had visited most of the buildings on the list. Jones will accept the honor on behalf of her late husband at the Accent on Architecture Gala in Washington, D.C., on Feb. 11.
For the full list of Twenty-five Year Award recipients visit http://www.aia.org/twentyfiveyear_award.
Thorncrown Chapel is closed to the public in January and February. For directions and visiting hours, visit http://www.thorncrown.com/.
Fellow AIA Members,
After a lengthy process that included debate at several Board meetings, responses from AIA Arkansas members, a public hearing, and legislative review, on June 1, 2005, the Arkansas State Board of Architects adopted several new Rules changes, which were effective on that date. Though many were essentially housekeeping or were clarifications, some represented significant changes with respect to the ability for some individuals to obtain a license, the "branch" offices, and the requirement for construction contract administration. The final, adopted Rules changes can be viewed on the ASBA website by contacting the ASBA office.
The NCARB Broadly Experienced Architect process as a path to obtaining a license to practice architecture in Arkansas. Prior to its adoption, a license could be granted only to the holder of a NAAB-accredited professional degree in architecture. NCARB developed the BEA program to allow individuals lacking a NAAB-accredited professional degree to obtain an NCARB Certificate by demonstrating that the NCARB Education Standard has been met through a combination of education and comprehensive architectural experience. This process is only open to individuals who have a defined number of years as an architect holding a registration issued by a U.S. jurisdiction. The minimum number of years varies according to the type of degree, if any, held by the architect:
- Pre-professional degree in architecture that is a component of a NAAB-accredited program - 6 years, or
- Any other baccalaureate or higher degree – 8 years of experience, or
- No post-secondary baccalaureate or higher degree – 10 years experience.
For applicants with post-secondary education, an EESA-NCARB Evaluation Report is required. Then, an NCARB Education Dossier must be submitted demonstrating knowledge gained through experience as an architect in each deficient subject area identified in the EESA-NCARB Evaluation Report. Applicants with no post-secondary education must demonstrate knowledge in all NCARB Education Standard subject areas. The BEA Committee reviews each dossier to determine that all deficiencies have been satisfied. If a candidate is determined to have done so, a personal interview with the BEA Committee is held to verify the content and authorship of the candidate’s NCARB Education Dossier. If the BEA Committee, on the basis of the process described above, determines that the candidate has satisfied the NCARB Education Requirement, the applicant will be issued an NCARB Certificate, provided all other requirements for certification have been met.
During the solicitation of responses to the proposed Rules changes, there was some misunderstanding that the BEA was a new version of the old “grandfathering” provision that would allow an individual to become licensed by virtue of being employed under an architect for a prescribed number of years. As indicated above, this process is open only to individuals possessing a current license to practice architecture in a U.S. Jurisdiction, and thus represents a significant improvement in eliminating an impediment to reciprocity encountered by some practitioners.
Blake Dunn, President
Arkansas State Board of Architects
Jeff Steiling, AIA, an architect with the Jonesboro firm, Cahoon Firm, P.A., has recently been named a principal by Mark Cahoon, AIA. The firm will be renamed CahoonSteiling|Studio. Jeff has served the Cahoon Firm, P.A. as a Project Architect since January of 2003.
Jeff has served the architecture profession as President of the Arkansas Chapter of the American Institute of Architects for the year 2005. Steiling, as 2006 Past-President, is beginning his fifth year of a five-year tenure as a chapter officer. He was a member of the AIA Arkansas Board of Directors and a past member of the AIA Gulf States Region Board of Directors. He is an East Arkansas Section Past-President and Representative on the Membership Committee. Steiling has been a member of the American Institute of Architects since 1992.
Steiling, a current member of the Jonesboro Rotary Club and Jonesboro Regional Chamber of Commerce, has served both organizations as a board member. He is also a graduate of the Chamber’s Leadership program.
Steiling, as a project architect for Cahoon Firm, P.A., is responsible for project design, production of construction documents and coordination of architectural and engineering disciplines.
He is married to Diane Steiling, C.F.O. of Heritage Bank in Jonesboro, and they have two daughters, Ashley and Allison.
The CahoonSteiling|Studio, originally founded as the Cahoon Firm in 1989 by Mark Cahoon, specializes in commercial design including medical, educational and eccumenical buildings. Current work includes projects with NEA Clinic; Jonesboro, Paragould, Harrisburg, Piggott, and Greene County Tech school districts and Southwest and Bono Churches of Christ. Both partners, Cahoon and Steiling are members of the American Institute of Architects. CahoonSteiling|Studio is located at 915 Southwest Drive in Jonesboro, Arkansas.
Arkansas State Board of Architects
Fellow AIA Members,
After a lengthy process that included debate at several Board meetings, responses from AIA Arkansas members, a public hearing, and legislative review, on June 1, 2005, the Arkansas State Board of Architects adopted several new Rules changes, which were effective on that date. Though many were essentially housekeeping or were clarifications, some represented significant changes with respect to the ability for some individuals to obtain a license, the “branch” offices, and the requirement for construction contract administration. The final, adopted Rules changes can be viewed on the ASBA website www.arkansas.gov/arch, or by contacting the ASBA office.
One new important addition is the adoption of the NCARB Broadly Experienced Architect process as a path to obtaining a license to practice architecture in Arkansas. Prior to its adoption, a license could be granted only to the holder of a NAAB-accredited professional degree in architecture. NCARB developed the BEA program to allow individuals lacking a NAAB-accredited professional degree to obtain an NCARB Certificate by
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Company Name</th>
<th>Phone Number</th>
<th>Contact Name</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A.C.C., Inc.</td>
<td>(479) 890-3884</td>
<td>Ron Johnson</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>AEPlans</td>
<td>(225) 612-2187</td>
<td>Rob Jolliff</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Alessi-Keyes Construction Co.</td>
<td>(501) 225-6699</td>
<td>Cloud N. Keyes</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>All Storage Products</td>
<td>(501) 666-8600</td>
<td>Tom Garner</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Architectural Products Marketing Group, LLC</td>
<td>(501) 551-2775</td>
<td>Terry Turner</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Architectural Solutions, LLC</td>
<td>(501) 945-5522</td>
<td>Scott Cooper</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Archway Graphic Designs</td>
<td>(501) 224-0227</td>
<td>Teresa Baker</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Ark-La-Tex Wallsource</td>
<td>(501) 851-6362</td>
<td>Denise Campbell</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Arkansas Precast Corporation</td>
<td>(501) 982-1547</td>
<td>Chris Brown</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Audio Dimensions</td>
<td>(479) 464-4228</td>
<td>Paul Crawford</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>BioBased Systems</td>
<td>(479) 246-9523</td>
<td>Rick Franco</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>bpi Arkansas</td>
<td>(501) 490-1924</td>
<td>Kelley Adams</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Carter Burgess</td>
<td>(501) 954-2902</td>
<td>Danny Straessle</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Central States Manufacturing Inc.</td>
<td>(800) 356-2733</td>
<td>Anne Nierengarten</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CoreSlab Structures (ARK) Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 329-3763</td>
<td>Greg Poirier</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Crafton, Tull & Associates, Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 664-3245</td>
<td>Kenneth L. Jones, P. E.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Design Trends Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 455-6357</td>
<td>Pat Hampel</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Designers Vision</td>
<td>(918) 398-0428</td>
<td>Bill Jackson</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>DFI Architectural Signs Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 664-6666</td>
<td>Charles Aitkens</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Doug Rye & Associates</td>
<td>(501) 653-7931</td>
<td>Doug Rye</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Ed Chitty & Associates</td>
<td>(479) 855-6422</td>
<td>Cristy Chitty</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Enco Materials, Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 372-3100</td>
<td>Buddy Metcalf</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Enloe Enterprise LLC</td>
<td>(800) 373-6563</td>
<td>Vickie Enloe</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>EYKON Wallcovering Stores</td>
<td>(501) 944-7612</td>
<td>Jennifer Harsch</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>General Shale Brick</td>
<td>(870) 934-0400</td>
<td>Jack Cauble</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Grand Openings-Doors and More</td>
<td>(501) 315-2090</td>
<td>Henry Griswold</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Green Anderson Engineers</td>
<td>(479) 442-4682</td>
<td>Greg Anderson</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Greg Thompson Fine Art, Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 664-2787</td>
<td>Greg Thompson</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Hill Wholesale Dist. Co., Inc.</td>
<td>(903) 244-2131</td>
<td>Mande Ramsey</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Integrity Insurance Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 362-6767</td>
<td>Chris Schlicker</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>J. L. Shelton & Associates, Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 664-6060</td>
<td>Joe Shelton</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Kelly-Moore Paint Co.</td>
<td>(479) 646-0561</td>
<td>Phillip Bunda</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>KI/Glen Jones & Associates</td>
<td>(601) 634-0877</td>
<td>Glen Jones</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Marvin Windows and Doors</td>
<td>(800) 727-7596</td>
<td>David Morris, CSI, CDT</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>McGraw-Hill Construction-Dodge Division</td>
<td>(501) 225-8603</td>
<td>Connie Schroepfer</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>National Wallcovering</td>
<td>(501) 378-0039</td>
<td>Kim McClain</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Nettleton Concrete, Inc.</td>
<td>(870) 932-4400</td>
<td>Brian Woods</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>New Water System</td>
<td>(501) 407-0063</td>
<td>Andy Davis</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Online Technologies, Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 224-3906</td>
<td>Becky Dively</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Otis Elevator Company</td>
<td>(501) 312-7600</td>
<td>Richard Carlton</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Premier Lighting & Power Inc.</td>
<td>(501) 753-6599</td>
<td>Jim Saldivar</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Roberts & Williams Associates</td>
<td>(501) 280-0123</td>
<td>Dave Roberts</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>School & Office Products of Arkansas</td>
<td>(501) 821-4424</td>
<td>Terry Greene</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Shaw Industries</td>
<td>(501) 301-8300</td>
<td>Lisa Turpin</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Sherwin-Williams Company</td>
<td>(501) 590-5333</td>
<td>Tom Lilley</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Soprema</td>
<td>(901) 861-3367</td>
<td>P.J. Johnson</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>TAB Products Company</td>
<td>(501) 568-4887</td>
<td>Dave Frierson</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Tommy Farrell Custom Furniture</td>
<td>(501) 375-7225</td>
<td>Tommy Farrell</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table> |
Chapter 2
The Elements of Urban Form
Abstract This chapter focuses on the different elements of urban form. The presentation of these different elements follows an order of increasing resolution of urban form. It starts with a description and explanation of the different urban tissues that we can find in our cities. It then increases the resolution and moves to the natural context and to the system of public spaces that constitutes each urban tissue, analysing both the spaces for circulation and for permanence. The chapter moves then to the urban plots which are, in our cities, the physical expression of individual property and, as such, distinct from the public or collective space. Once again increasing the level of resolution, the chapter moves to the buildings that constitute the urban tissue of a city including, not only exceptional buildings but also, current buildings.
Keywords Buildings · Elements of urban form · Natural context · Plots · Streets · Urban tissue
The different elements that constitute the physical form to our cities are the theme of this chapter. Each of the main elements of urban form is isolated from its context, enabling a more effective analysis and understanding. This analytical exercise is not ‘neutral’ and it somehow implies the previous existence of reading instruments to organize and structure these elements. Yet, we have tried to minimize the role of the ‘researcher’ and to focus on the ‘object’, the city. The role of the ‘researcher’, and of its instruments for description, explanation and even for prescription, will be discussed in Chap. 6, which will consider the different ways that different researchers use to deal with the same object, the city.
2.1 The Concept of Urban Tissue
Cities are, in morphological terms, extremely complex objects. In other words, cities are objects composed of different objects or of different parts. It is possible to identify a number of relationships between these objects ‘from the part to the
whole’ and to recognize a hierarchy in these relations. To deal with the complexity of cities, urban morphology uses this hierarchical view of the city, structured according to a set of fundamental physical elements.
At a general level, the city is composed of urban tissues. Karl Kropf, in his paper ‘Urban tissue and the character of towns’, strongly influenced by the Italian tradition, defines urban tissue as an organic whole that can be seen according to different levels of resolution. These different levels correspond to different elements of urban form. The higher the level of resolution, the greater the detail of what is shown and the greater the specificity of morphological description (see also Fig. 7.4 in Chap. 7). At a very low level, the urban tissue includes only the streets and street blocks. At a high level of resolution the tissue might include a number of details such as the construction materials of an open space or building (Kropf 1996).
In general, all cities and their tissues are constituted by a set of elements of urban form—streets, street blocks, plots and buildings. Yet, in each city these streets, street blocks, plots and buildings are combined in a specific way, originating different types of tissues. Some of these tissues are clearly identifiable and are able to offer their cities a unique character. Each of these urban phenomena is deepened by the ‘time’ factor, as a large number of our cities are indeed the result of a long process of construction, developed over centuries, and where different layers are continuously overlapping without erasing the previous layer. The notion of ‘palimpsest’ is often used in urban morphology to explain this continuous construction over time (we will get back to the notion of palimpsest in Chap. 6 when presenting the work of Gustavo Giovannoni).
Figure 2.1 presents, approximately at the same scale, eight cities in four different continents, with some urban tissues that are clearly recognizable: Brasilia, with a relation between (or a percentage of) open space and built form clearly favourable to the former; Djenné, in Mali, with a central and very compact urban occupation in clear contrast with the periphery left without buildings; Venice, with its exceptional geographical context marked by the strong presence of water and with an extremely compact urban tissue; New York, with an extremely regular pattern of streets and of buildings alignment and a wide range of buildings height (New York will be analysed in detail in Chap. 5); Barcelona, with its rigorous grid—forming octagonal open spaces in the street crossings—only broken by the large diagonal and with its homogeneous alignment of buildings; Paris, with the large radial streets conformed by a built form with uniform alignment and height; Rome, with a very dense layout of small street blocks interrupted by a number of monuments and squares that offer the city a high level of intelligibility; and finally, Sana’a, in Yemen, in clear contrast with the first urban tissue (Brasilia), with a relation between open space and built form that is clearly favourable to the latter.
---
1In a broad sense, including the open spaces for circulation (streets, avenues, boulevards…) and the open spaces for permanence (squares).
The same way we can find different urban tissues in different cities, located in different continents, we can also find different urban tissues within the same city. Figure 2.2 shows—once again, at the same scale—four different tissues within the apparently homogeneous city (in morphological terms) of New York. These tissues are included in only one of the five boroughs of this American city—Manhattan.
The first tissue is in the Downtown area around Wall Street. Wall Street takes its name from the seventeenth century wall located in this street. The fact that it hosts the centre of the global financial markets justifies its current importance. The area that surrounds it, with a very rich urban history, is characterized by a pattern of narrow streets, forming street blocks of irregular shape and of small size, including a reduced number of plots and buildings. These buildings correspond to very large volumes given by their large plans and heights.
The second urban tissue is the Soho area around one of its most notable streets, Greene Street. This area consists of more regular street blocks, with larger areas than in the previous tissue, with a reasonable number of plots and buildings. The buildings height is similar to the streets width. A fundamental factor for the high quality of the built environment of this area is the excellence of its iron buildings erected between 1869 and 1895. Another factor that should be noted is the great mixture of uses, which contributes, in an undeniable way, to the urbanity of this area.
The third urban tissue is the famous black neighbourhood of Harlem, in particular the area around the 125th Street (or Martin Luther King Boulevard). Unlike the previous area, this part of New York is clearly marked by the residential use, except for the 125th Street which is a truly commercial street. The street blocks of Harlem are larger than the ones in Soho, and include a higher number of plots and buildings. Yet, there are a significant number of vacant plots which, somehow, contributes to disqualify the urban environment of this neighbourhood.
Finally, the fourth urban tissue is Stuyvesant Town, a private residential development located east of Gramercy Park. Contrarily to the previous tissues, in
Stuy Town the open space prevails over the built space (although this dominance is on a much smaller proportion than the one in Brasília, mentioned above) and the area does not have a plot structure. The number of street blocks and the number of buildings are much reduced when compared with the previous areas. The building development, of large dimensions (comprised between the 14th and 20th streets), has a strong formal homogeneity.
2.2 The Natural Context
The natural context is the first condition for the establishment and organization of the different elements of urban form. The land relief, the quality and suitability of soil and subsoil, the climate, the solar and wind exposure, the type of natural landscape—all these factors influence how a settlement is established, from its foundation, from the first paths and streets (and, subsequently, from all the infrastructures that will be built in the streets) to the way land is subdivided into a number of different parts, to the various buildings that are built in these plots, and even to the materials that—at least, until the last century—will give expression and surface to all these forms.
In each initial intention of human settlement, in different historical periods, the land relief has its own configuration as well as a geometry that influences the location and the form of that settlement. In the master and doctoral theses that Rosália Guerreiro presented to the Instituto Universitário de Lisboa—‘O território e a edificação’ and ‘Urbanismo orgânico e a ordem implícita’ respectively—she synthesizes a number of key elements on this influence of land relief in human settlements, which we summarize, very briefly, in the two following paragraphs (Guerreiro 2001, 2011).
Generally, the land relief can be divided into two categories. In addition to the basic forms of land relief or of micro-relief (a hill, a promontory…) there are a number of composite forms, the macro-relief or the structural relief. The formation of these forms is associated with endogenous forces that originated the process of geomorphologic formation of the continents. The structuring lines of the territory are the ridge lines—corresponding to imaginary lines, more or less continuous, connecting the maximum elevation points and dividing the flow of water in opposite slopes—and the lines of thalweg—linking the lowest elevation points, promoting the natural drainage of water to downstream. The ridge lines, as well as the thalweg lines, are associated in branched hierarchical systems forming the orographic and hydrographic systems. The points where ridge lines and thalweg lines are ramified are the notable points of the territory, usually referred to as distribution centres and encounter centres. There is also a third system of territory lines—the contour curves, cutting perpendicularly the ridge and thalweg establishing the relationships between them.
In different human settlements, the definition of the first paths follows this natural structure of the territory strengthening its own configuration and geometry. Indeed, these lines that structure the territory—ridge, thalweg and contour curves—represent the lines where the effort to overcome the slope is smaller. As such, for
centuries, these were the lines of movement. The place where these lines of movement get together—the notable points of the territory—became the central places (Fig. 2.3).
Figures 2.4 and 2.5 illustrate the importance of land relief to human settlements. It is impossible to imagine the urban forms of Machu Picchu (Peru), Masada (Israel), Saint-Michel (France) or Lhasa (Tibet) without considering the land relief. The city of Machu Picchu, built in the fifteenth century (and abandoned in the following century after the Spanish conquest) by the Inca civilization in the Andes, at almost 2500 m above sea level, is one of the most remarkable examples of integration between human settlement and natural support. The city was structured in a set of terraces, ramps and stairs, around a central ‘square’ and included about 200 buildings distributed by religious, agricultural, industrial and residential areas. The second example is Masada, a fortified settlement built by the Jews in the Judean Desert near the Dead Sea at about 400 m altitude. Similar to Machu Picchu, Masada had a short period of occupation, being conquered by the Romans in the first century. A key element in the life of this settlement was a sophisticated water supply system.
The building development consisting of the Potala Palace, the Jokhang Temple and the Norbulingka built by the Tibetan monks from the seventh century onwards on the Red Mountain at 3700 m of altitude, is another notable example of the relationship between man and nature. Finally, the last example, linking Figs. 2.4 and 2.5, is Saint Michael. Saint Michael is a small settlement in Normandy, France, developed around a Benedictine abbey, in Gothic style, built between the eleventh and the sixteenth centuries. The uniqueness of this settlement is due not only to the dialogue with the land relief, as in the three previous cases, but also with water—when the water rises the settlement site becomes an island.
As in the previous cases we cannot imagine Varanasi or Venice without their relation to water (see Fig. 2.5). Indeed, the Italian city, founded in the fifth century, constituted by 120 small islands and a wide set of channels, is a singular case of
Fig. 2.4 Relationships between urban forms and natural context—land relief: Machu Picchu, Masada, Lhasa and Saint-Michel (Source Photographs by Filipa Neiva (a), Urszula Zdzieborska (b), Jan Reurink (c) and Cláudia Lira (d))
relationship between human occupation and the lagoon where it is settled. Also very intense is the relationship between the city of Varanasi and the Ganges River. While the urban forms of this Indian city seem to touch the river, the life of its inhabitants is inseparable from the Ganges, using it in numerous actions including bath, laundry and funeral services.
Depending on the concept of city (bounded, in a very simplistic way, between an organic model and a rational model) the influence of the natural context on the city can be more or less significant. This influence can also vary between different parts of the same city. Let us return to the example of Manhattan in New York. The establishment of a settlement on an island clearly influenced the way how, in the oldest part of town, faced with shortage of land, buildings started to be higher and higher. However, if we move to another part of the island, for instance, a northern area where in the early nineteenth century the regular grid, characteristic of the city, started to be implemented, we can see that the rugged relief was not an obstacle for the construction of that grid. Furthermore, if we continue to move north, we arrive at the magnificent Central Park, where the ‘apparently natural’ physical support was in fact built by man.
2.3 The Streets System
It is through the streets system (in the generic sense, including avenues, boulevards…) that we travel, and start to know, a city. Streets define the different street blocks that constitute a city and distinguish what is public, and is therefore accessible to all citizens, from what is private or semi-public. Streets are, in broad terms, the public and democratic space of the city, the place where we all met, with all our differences, and where we all interact in social terms.
All these possibilities of interaction are restricted when we move from the streets to the interior of buildings. Bill Hillier, the founder of Space Syntax, recently wrote, in a paper submitted to the International Space Syntax Symposium (ISSS), that social differences have no expression on streets. This British author argues that streets do not reflect the society (or the most negative aspects of society), and that, on the contrary, streets can gather in space what society insists in dividing. In addition, Hillier argues that the livability of the streets is probably the most relevant indicator of the presence of a strong civil society (Hillier 2009).
In morphological terms, and in a temporal perspective, streets are the most stable element of urban form. While the physical process of city building is something that takes time involving permanent transformation—it has a past, a present and a future—the streets system of a city is the one that offers greater resistance to this process of urban transformation, attaining a great temporal stability. The plots system has a lesser durability than the streets system, and the buildings system has a lower stability over time than the two first systems.
There is a wide variety of streets, with different shapes and sizes, with different ways of relating with the other streets in the surroundings, and also with different urban functions. The analysis of each of the main elements of urban form that we are developing in this chapter does not ignore that, for instance, the character of a street is influenced by other elements of urban form shaping it. This character is actually influenced by the plots on one or on both sides of the street; by the buildings—by their height and by the relation between their height and the width of the street; by the way buildings are located in plots, sometimes near to the plot frontage, offering the street a higher sense of enclosure, sometimes far from the plot frontage, offering greater openness to the street; or by the ‘doors’ that these buildings open to the street. Another important issue when analysing the streets system that will be developed in later chapters is how in each street the space for pedestrians and the space for vehicles—public or private, motorized or non-motorized—are distributed. Allan Jacobs’ ‘Great streets’ is an example of a notable book on the streets of our cities (Jacobs 1993).
Figure 2.6 presents a diverse set of streets in four different cities. The first images refer to the intersection of two of the most important streets of New York: the Broadway, which crosses the whole island of Manhattan in the north–south direction, being the only street with an irregular pattern on the orthogonal grid of the city designed in the early nineteenth century; and the 5th Avenue (with 10 km
**Fig. 2.6** Different streets in different cities, approximately at the same scale: Broadway, intersection with the 5th Avenue, in New York; the *Champs Elysées* in Paris; the *Via Rinaldini* in Siena and the *Reguliersgracht* in Amsterdam (*Source* Aerial views—Google Earth; Photographs by the author)
long and 30 m wide) which is perhaps the most famous of the eleven avenues that structure New York in the north–south direction.
The two following images refer to the Avenue des Champs Élysées in Paris, one of the most important symbols of the Baron Haussmann’s intervention in the French capital in the second half of the nineteenth century (see Chap. 3). This is an axe of 2 km long and 70 m wide (in its western part which is clearly more urban), conformed by a fairly homogeneous set of buildings. The buildings height is clearly inferior to the street width, which gives the Champs Élysées a strong sense of openness. It has a strong presence of trees and with very different functions including shops, cafes and cinemas. This avenue is part of a longer axe with a fundamental importance in the city, linking La Defense and the Louvre Museum.
The third set of images refers to a small medieval street in Siena, the Via Rinaldini. This street is directly linked with the famous square of the city (that will be analysed in the following paragraphs). Via Rinaldini is less than 50 m length and is 5 m width. Despite the clear differences in relation to the two previous streets, we should highlight that the cross-section of this street is somehow close to the cross-section of the 5th Avenue where the buildings height is clearly higher than the street width.
Finally, the fourth set of images refers to the Reguliersgracht, one of the streets of Amsterdam, within the so-called ‘ring of canals’, an area that started to be built in the early seventeenth century. The built environment of Amsterdam—as well as of other Dutch cities—is marked by a sound presence of water. As such, the cross-section of the street (the street is about 30 m wide and 600 m long) is clearly different from the previous examples, as it includes the canal and, on each side of it, a street with three different spaces: one for pedestrians, one for vehicular traffic (distinguishing it form the urban environment in Venice where there is no vehicular traffic in the historical city) and one for car parking.
The public spaces system of a city includes not only the open spaces for movement, which we designate, in a simplified way, as streets, but also the open spaces for permanence, which we designate as squares and gardens. All this diversity of streets that we have described in the previous paragraphs can also be found in the case of squares.
Figure 2.7 presents four squares in three different continents. The first of these is Times Square, in New York, located at the intersection of Broadway with the 7th Avenue. While in morphological terms the square is no more than the intersection of the two streets with no particular conditions inviting for staying in the square (somehow similar to what happens in Picadilly Circus, in London), the truth is that at any time of day or night, Times Square is full of people (as we can see in this photograph taken at night). In terms of urban functions, the square is located in the heart of the Theater District and it includes a number of cultural and commercial activities contributing not only to the dynamics of this space, but also to the consolidation of the image of the square through a significant number of attractive neon lights. Our collective imaginary of this New York square is undoubtedly informed by the traditional party in the New Year’s Eve, when a crystal ball falls from the top of the number 1 of Times Square.
Fig. 2.7 Different squares in different cities, approximately at the same scale: Times Square in New York, Place Georges Pompidou in Paris, Piazza del Campo in Siena and Meidan Emam in Isfahan (Source Aerial views—Google Earth; Photographs b, d and f by the author, Photograph h by Jorge Correia)
The second square included in Fig. 2.7 is the Place Georges Pompidou, in Paris, near the former market of Les Halles. This square is clearly different from the previous, both in morphological terms and in functional terms. Indeed, the Place Georges Pompidou has a clearly defined shape, a rectangle of about 175 m long and 70 m wide, and a slope upwards from the entrance in the Centre Georges Pompidou, that establishes its eastern limit, up to the buildings of the Rue Saint-Martin that constitute its western boundary. This immense sloping surface is one of the fundamental characteristics of the square and is the key element that invites people to different activities, from the simple lay down to different artistic performances. In terms of function, this square is clearly distinguishable from the first because it has a strong artistic dimension, due to the presence of the remarkable Centre Georges Pompidou, built in the late 1970s. As a complement, the Place Igor Stravinsky (at south of George Pompidou, in Fig. 2.7) including a set of modern sculptures and the Stravinsky Fountain with 16 mobile sculptures, should also be referred.
One of the most famous squares in the world, particularly among those studying the physical form of cities, is the Piazza del Campo in Siena. This Italian square, from the twelfth century, has the shape of a shell and it is delimited by a number of notable buildings (palazzi) with different heights, from five to seven storeys. Similarly to the Place Georges Pompidou, this square is constituted by a wide sloping surface—following the topography of the city—which has the lowest point in the northern part, in the entrance to the town hall, the Palazzo Pubblico. One of the most famous events that takes place in the square is the Palio, a horse race which dates back to Roman military exercises.
The last example included in Fig. 2.7 is the Meidan Emam in Isfahan, Iran. This square of great dimensions, 520 m long and 160 m wide, has a rectangular shape (as the Place Georges Pompidou) and it is delimited by a continuous building volume of two storeys high with a double colonnade. A number of exceptional buildings stand out in this set—two notable mosques, classified by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), and a palace. The northern part of the square gives access to the Bazaar of Isfahan. In addition to accommodating some exceptional functions, the square is intensively lived by the local people for many different activities. Contrarily to the three previous cases there is not a strong presence of foreign tourists in Isfahan.
As we can find substantially different urban tissues or streets in the same city (as we have seen in the example of New York), we can also find different squares with clearly distinct forms and functions in different parts of the same city. The following paragraphs, and Fig. 2.8, illustrate this phenomenon in Paris.
The first example included in Fig. 2.8 is the Place Vendome, located in the Tuileries area. This square was built in the early eighteenth century (it is the latest example of this set). It has a rectangular shape (octagonal cut in the corners) with 140 m long and 120 m wide, it is crossed by one street only—the Rue de la Paix, and it is composed of a group of buildings with a great homogeneity in terms of architectural language and of the number of storeys. In terms of urban functions, Place Vendome is the home of a number of fashionable shops.
Fig. 2.8 Different squares in Paris, approximately at the same scale: Place Vendome, Place des Vosges, Place des Victoires and Place Dauphine (Source: Aerial views—Google Earth; Photographs by the author)
The Place des Vosges, built in the early seventeenth century in the Marais area, is the second example. With a dimension that is slightly higher than Place Vendome, Place des Vosges is a square of 140 m, and it is configured by an extremely homogenous group of buildings comprising 36 houses (nine in each of the four sides) containing an arcade around the whole perimeter of the square. The centre of Place des Vosges is a green space. The access to the square from the Rue de Birague is made through the arcade. As such, the square is delimited by one important street only, the Rue du Pas de la Mule, at north.
The third example is the Place des Victoires, located in the Tuileries area, nearby Place Vendome. This square, with a circular shape, has smaller dimensions than the previous two (approximately 75 m diameter) and, as in these two cases, it is defined by a set of buildings, of four and five storeys, with great homogeneity in terms of architectural style. The square was built in the seventeenth century in order to frame the statue of Louis XIV. Although it is a very interesting example in terms of urban form hosting a number of important fashion shops, the square is not much more than a roundabout.
The Place Dauphine is located in the oldest part of the French capital, the Ile de la Cité. This last example of our set is clearly different from the previous three cases: the square has a triangular shape (with an area that is larger than the Place des Victoires and smaller than the other two cases); and the buildings shaping it have a higher diversity than the previous ones, both in terms of numbers of floors and of architectural language.
The following paragraphs and Fig. 2.9, illustrate the same phenomenon in Rome. As mentioned above, Rome is a city of a very dense layout made of small street blocks interrupted by a number of notable squares. Let us focus on four of those squares, S. Pietro, Campidoglio, Navona and Rotonda. The Piazza S. Pietro, with a dominant religious nature, is located east of the Tevere River, within the Vatican territory. The square, the basilica and the colonnade (four columns deep) shaping it, were built in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The square has a complex shape, made of two different shapes, an ellipse (of 200 m long and 150 m wide) and a trapezoid (where the parallel sides have approximately 100 and 115 m long and are distanced 100 m). The square is part of a wider composition, being the western limit of a strong axe defined by the Via della Conciliazione, which is bounded at east by the Castel Sant’Angelo. While the exact centre of the square is marked by an obelisk, two different fountains appear to be the two centres of the ellipse.
The second example included in Fig. 2.9 has a rather different nature, shape and size. The Piazza del Campidoglio is located in the historical kernel of Rome. The square and the three surrounding palazzo were built or restored in the sixteenth century, constituting then a new civic centre for the city. It now gathers civic and museologic functions. The Piazza del Campidoglio has a trapezoidal shape; the bases of the trapezoid have approximately 55 and 40 m and are distanced about
---
2A third shape, linked with the Via della Conciliazione, could also be considered.
Fig. 2.9 Different squares in Rome, approximately at the same scale: Piazza S. Pietro, Piazza del Campidoglio, Piazza Navona and Piazza della Rotonda (Source Aerial views—Google Earth; Photographs by the author)
The square has a notable pavement with an oval geometric layout and, in the centre, an equestrian statue. Limited at east by the Pallazo Senatorio, the axial composition of this set includes, at west, a wide-ramped stair (the cordonata) connecting the square to the Via del Teatro di Marcello.
Contrarily to the four Parisian squares presented above, the four Roman examples have a strong touristic dimension. That is the case of Piazza Navona, located north of Corso Vittorio Emanuelle II, which has an intense social life. The square as we know it was established in the seventeenth century. Its peculiar shape, a long rectangle of about 250 × 50 m with round ends (a proportion of about 5:1, where the largest dimension is higher than the largest dimension of S. Pietro), draws on the ruins of a stadium erected in the first century. Three notable fountains (Nettuno, Quattro Fiumi and Moro, from north to south) have a central role in this remarkable baroque set. Besides the numerous cafés, restaurants and shops, the building set of Navona includes the church of Sant’Agnese in Agone.
The last example is Piazza della Rotonda, located 250 m east of Navona. The square was defined in the fifteenth century. Yet, the surrounding building fabric dates from earlier periods. That is the case of its main building, the Pantheon (the church of Santa Maria Rotonda, giving the name to the square), dating from the first century. As we can see in Fig. 2.9 the square is considerably smaller than the other three examples. It has an irregular shape near to a trapezoid; the bases of the trapezoid have approximately 45 and 35 m and are distanced about 60 m. It has a fountain with an obelisk in the centre. The square has a large number of cafés and restaurants.
2.4 The Plots System
As mentioned above, the plots system of a city is one of the most important elements of urban form, separating the public domain and the private domain (or the different private domains). Nevertheless, the role of this fundamental system is often neglected by the main agents and stakeholders in the process of city building, largely because of the, apparently, reduced urban visibility of plots.
The definition of the plots system in a given territory is an essential element of its urbanization process and has a considerable stability over time. The decision on what would be the new structure of private ownership in a particular territory might involve the subdivision of a set of large plots—for instance, plots of former rural use—or the proposal of a new land division. The subsequent stage of this urbanization process usually involves the precise definition of the different plots: (i) how is each plot related with the street? (what is the dimension of the plot frontage? what is the orientation of the plot in relation to the orientation of the street?); (ii) what is the position of each plot within the plots system? (is it in the middle or in the edge of the street block? is it located in a long side or in a short side of the street block?); (iii) what is the shape of the plot, and what are its dimensions and proportions?
It is essential that we acknowledge that these definitions, taken when each plot is laid down, will condition the future options in terms of the building types that can effectively be built within these plots and, as such, it will have a significant impact on the urban landscape.
Although there are considerable differences between each specific context, in many cities the processes of plot subdivision and of plot amalgamation are not very common. This means that the choices that we make, as agents, in very early stages of the urbanization process will condition, for long periods of time, the urban forms that in the future will be built in the city. It is also import to say that, although the city suffers many kinds of disturbances over its ‘life’—such as wars, fires, earthquakes, tsunamis, to name just a few—that could be used as a pretext to erase the pre-existing plots system (or parts of the plots system) and to create a new plot structure, the truth is that, in most of the cases, this does not happen and the pre-existing plots system is maintained.
An important element in the description and explanation of the physical form of the city is the dimension of its street blocks and, within these, of its plots. In general, the dimension of street blocks and of plots increases as we move from the historical centre to the peripheral parts of the city. Yet, there are some exceptions. These exceptions are not negligible and they contribute to the identity of each city—in this regard, the concept of fringe belt will be presented later in Chap. 6. Another important element is the number of plots per street block, as it somehow expresses the greater or lesser diversity of agents and stakeholders—and of urban strategies—that are present in the street block. Contrarily to the dimension of the street blocks, in general, the number of plots per street block decreases as we move away from the historical centre to the peripheral parts of the city.
Figure 2.10 illustrates the plots system of a whole city, central Pingyao. This plan is included in the paper ‘Extending the compass of plan analysis: a Chinese exploration’ by Jeremy Whitehand and Kai Gu (2007). Located nearly 500 km south-west of Beijing, Pingyao is a city that is notable for the survival of its traditional form. It is roughly a square-shaped walled city, with a significant number of planned streets and plots. Figure 2.10 presents the complex plots system of the city. In central Pingyao, regular patterns of plots seem to be associated with regular patterns of streets. In contrast, access to subdivisions of plots (more irregular) created in the interiors of street blocks has been achieved by the development of a labyrinth of alleys, including many cul-de-sacs.
Let us now take a smaller part of a city. Rua do Almada is a fundamental street in the urban history of my city, Porto. The construction of this street in the second half of the eighteenth century was promoted by the so-called Junta das Obras Públicas, a public agency responsible for urban planning and management. The Junta was responsible for the opening of new streets and for the regularization of existing paths, designing a street network that has structured the process of urban development of the city until the end of the nineteenth century. The Rua do Almada is 800 m long and 10 m wide. It links two different squares, the Largo dos Loios, in the south, and the Praça da República, in the north. The street consists of ten street blocks and 214 plots. The largest street block of this set is the section contained
between the Praça da República and the Rua Dr. Ricardo Jorge including 58 plots. In a significant part of these 58 plots, plot frontage is about 5 m and plot depth ranges between 20 and 90 m. Over more than two centuries in the ‘life’ of these plots, buildings were conserved recurring to small maintenance works. Yet, eight buildings erected in the last decades of the twentieth century can be found in these 58 plots. However, even in this set of eight buildings, seven were built in the original plots of the eighteenth century, and only one building was erected on a plot resulting from plot amalgamation (of two different plots). In Rua do Almada the establishment of a particular type of plot, long and narrow, led to the emergence of a particular type of building. Due to the reduced dimension of the plot frontage, the building type had to adopt an in-depth organization, usually with more than 15 m depth. This in-depth organization of the building has lead to the location, in each
Fig. 2.10 Plot boundaries in central Pingyao, in 2000 (Source Whitehand and Gu 2007)
storey, of one (or two) room(s) near the two facades and of a staircase, and of one (or more) rooms in the interior of the building.
The German geographer MRG Conzen, whose work will be analysed in detail in Chap. 6, was one of the main promoters of the study of the plot as a way to describe and explain the physical form of a city. One of the concepts proposed by Conzen was the burgage cycle. The burgage cycle is the progressive built occupation of the back of the plot culminating in a significant reduction of the open space, resulting in the need to release this space and in a period of urban fallow, preceding a new development cycle. The proposal of this concept was based on the study of the town of Alnwick, in particular on the analysis of the plot belonging to Mr. Teasdale in six different periods of time between 1774 and 1956. Although this phenomenon was recognized in Alnwick, the truth is that it occurs in many different contexts, including the plots of Porto. In the city of Porto, the burgage cycle conceptualizes a process of plot occupation and construction of working-class housing in the back of the bourgeois building facing the street, without changing the plot structure—the so-called ilhas, built in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
2.5 The Buildings System
Although buildings do not have the stability in time that streets and plots have, they are one of the most important elements of urban form and, perhaps, the most visible of these elements. In general, the city is made of two different types of buildings, ordinary buildings and exceptional buildings. The main characteristics that distinguish these two types are related to the building form but also to the building utilization. The former type includes most of the buildings constituting the city. The similarities between buildings, within this type, are stronger than the differences between them. This type includes mostly buildings of residential utilization but also commerce and services buildings. The second type includes only a few buildings of the city: those buildings that by their shape—and eventually by their utilization—are clearly distinguishable in the urban landscape. Within this second type there is a smaller set, a very special set of exceptional buildings whose form becomes indistinguishable from the form of the city they are part of. This is the case, for instance, of the Opera House in Sydney.
The position of each building within its plot is of fundamental importance for the character of the urban landscape. In most cities, until the end of the nineteenth century, the continuous alignment of different buildings defined, in a very clear way, the street form. Yet, a number of city theories, developed over the twentieth century, have questioned this traditional alignment of buildings and have led to the introduction of an increasing variation in the position of buildings within plots, questioning the traditional definition of the ‘street’ and of the ‘street block’.
Another important characteristic of buildings is their height and particularly the relationship between their height and the width of street where they are located. The variation of these two measures can introduce significant changes in the urban
landscape. If the height of buildings is much less than the street width we will have little sense of enclosure. Yet, if the height of buildings is greater than the street width, the sense of enclosure will increase. Other important characteristics of buildings are the façade design (important for the urban landscape), the position of the staircase in the interior of the building and the organization of dwellings.
Although in last decades there has been a powerful trend towards an increasing uniformity of buildings at the global scale, we can still find a great diversity of buildings across different countries and different continents. Figure 2.11 includes five photographs of different buildings in different cities and villages, in five different continents. The first is a photograph of Chicago taken from the Lake Michigan. This part of the city, around Lake Shore Drive, has a regular street system with a great diversity of buildings with very different heights. In the middle of the photograph, some skyscrapers seem to emerge within the set of tall buildings. It is the case of the John Hancock Centre of 100 storeys. Although there is also a great diversity in terms of building materials, the urban landscape is marked by the presence of steel and glass. The second photograph is in a rather different geographic and cultural context: Djenné, one of the oldest towns of sub-Saharan Africa, inhabited since 250 B.C. This area includes almost 2000 traditional buildings that were built using earth as the main material. The architecture of Djenné, of its ordinary buildings and of its exceptional buildings (such as the Mosque, in the photograph) is characterized by its homogeneity of materials and colours and by a strong sense of verticality. The third photograph shows a traditional building of the Batak Toba people, located in Samosir in the middle of Lake Toba, in Sumatra (Indonesia). This house, very different from the buildings in the upper photographs, has a boat-shape and it is elevated from the ground. It is mainly built in wood and it has intricately carved gables and upsweeping roof ridges. The fourth photograph presents a set of buildings in the Stortorget, a small public square in the Gamla Stan, the historical centre of Stockholm. Despite the similar height and alignment of buildings, there are some subtle differences between them such as the use of different colours and the design of the upper storeys and roofs. Finally, a traditional building of the Māori people located in Taumaronui, in New Zealand is included in the last photograph of Fig. 2.11. The design of the roof and of the central column in the main façade (usually two other columns are located in the interior of these buildings), and the sound presence of sculpture distinguishes this building from the buildings of the previous photographs, contributing for the identity of the Māori architecture.
As we have seen when analysing other elements of urban form, we can also find very different buildings within the same city. In addition, it is possible to identify a kind of evolutionary path or a typological process, corresponding to a succession of building types in the same cultural area. Focusing on a particular part of my city, the Rua de Costa Cabral, Fig. 2.12 identifies the main residential types of the area and offers a reading of how these building types have evolved over time. The first column of photographs displays the transformation of single-family houses: from the terraced houses built in narrow frontage plots (a), in medium frontage plots (b) and in large frontage plots (d) to the semi-detached houses (f) and the detached
Fig. 2.11 Different buildings in different cities and villages, in five continents: Chicago, Djenné, Samosir, Stockholm and Taumaranui (Source Photographs by the author (a, d), Elisa Dainese (b), Janto Marzuki (c) and Bryan Woodhead (e))
2.5 The Buildings System
Fig. 2.12 Succession of building types in the same cultural area, Porto (Source Oliveira et al. 2015)
houses (h). The second column of photographs presents the transformation of multifamily buildings: from terraced buildings erected on narrow and large plots (c) and (e) to semi-detached buildings (g) and detached buildings (i)—this will be developed in the last section of Chap. 6.
References
Urban Morphology
An Introduction to the Study of the Physical Form of Cities
Oliveira, V.
2016, XXIII, 192 p. 65 illus., 19 illus. in color., Hardcover
ISBN: 978-3-319-32081-6 |
Historical recipes for preparatory layers for oil paintings in manuals, manuscripts and handbooks in North West Europe, 1550-1900: analysis and reconstructions
Stols-Witlox, M.J.N.
Citation for published version (APA):
General rights
It is not permitted to download or to forward/distribute the text or part of it without the consent of the author(s) and/or copyright holder(s), other than for strictly personal, individual use, unless the work is under an open content license (like Creative Commons).
Disclaimer/Complaints regulations
If you believe that digital publication of certain material infringes any of your rights or (privacy) interests, please let the Library know, stating your reasons. In case of a legitimate complaint, the Library will make the material inaccessible and/or remove it from the website. Please Ask the Library: https://uba.uva.nl/en/contact, or a letter to: Library of the University of Amsterdam, Secretariat, Singel 425, 1012 WP Amsterdam, The Netherlands. You will be contacted as soon as possible.
Figure 4.1 Folio 62v of the manuscript of Cennini’s ‘Libro dell’arte’.
Photograph: © Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Florence. Manuscript available through http://teca.bmlonline.it
Chapter 4 Background: main developments in North West Europe c. 1400-1550
Now we come to the business of working on anconas\textsuperscript{1} or on panel
Cennini c. 1400, translation Thompson 1960\textsuperscript{2}
This chapter discusses the materials and layer structures of preparatory layers for oil painting before the year 1550 as it has been presented in earlier research. It serves as a background for the main period that is investigated in this dissertation. As stated in Chapter 2, only a relatively small number of recipes is available from before 1550 (see Appendix 4 for an overview of recipes from this period). The fact that a large number of these recipes has been written in Italy, restricts the data that apply to the main subject of this dissertation even further. Notwithstanding the scarcity of available historical recipes, it is important to provide an overview of current knowledge on the topic, since the developments that take place before 1550 continue and, as will be shown, influence more recent recipes for preparatory layers.
Fortunately, early Northern European oil painting has received considerable attention from both (art) historians and scientists, which has led to a considerable amount of technical data being available for this period. As described in the introduction, nineteenth and early twentieth century research has paid particular attention to developments in oil painting in the circle around the Van Eyck brothers and to the influence of their paintings on Italian artists. Published research on this topic includes transcriptions of a number of historical recipe books, many of these of Italian origin, in efforts driven at least in part by a desire to develop clarity about the ‘introduction’ of oil painting.\textsuperscript{3}
A considerable amount of analytical data have been published on the Flemish Primitives.\textsuperscript{4} The techniques employed in the earliest Italian paintings in oil executed on canvas, have
\textsuperscript{1} The Italian term employed is anchona. Lara Broecke, who is currently preparing a new English translation of Cennini, explains that: ‘there is no real equivalent in English and the Italian meaning isn’t very well defined either’. She writes that the term ‘does not appear in the \textit{Voce Crusca} [=dictionary of the Italian language by the Accademia della Crusca. remark Stols-Witlox] in the 5\textsuperscript{th} edition (1863-1923) where it is defined as a painted panel for an altar, usually shaped towards a point at the top’… however that the term ‘has also been used in some part of Italy for a diptych’. Broecke notes that others align \textit{ancona} closely with the word icon. She concludes that all we can say with certainty is that ‘it’s something slightly more complex than simple ‘panel’, although the complexity can be manifested in many different ways in different times and places’. Many thanks to Lara Broecke for this information. (email correspondence, 26-10-2013.)
\textsuperscript{3} \textit{See} Nadolny 2003 and Nadolny 2005 on this topic, as well as Brinkman 1993. Roy 2000 and White 2000 discuss the reception of Vasari’s theory and research regarding its veracity, by nineteenth and twentieth scientists.
\textsuperscript{4} From the early 1950s on, when consistent, long-term research into art historical as well as technical aspects of the Flemish primitives was initiated by amongst others Roger Marijnissen, Paul Coremans and Jean Thissen at the Brussels ‘Centre National de Recherches ‘Primitifs Flamands’’, a number of this center’s publications have included descriptions of technical examinations, for instance in the series ‘Contributions à l’étude des Primitifs Flamands’ (first volume published 1952), and in the \textit{corpus of Flemish primitives}.
been described in publications that focused both on documentary research, including recipe research, and on scientific analysis. Together with the more dispersed information available on other historical recipe books and in combination with other studies on different aspects of preparatory layers for oil painting in North West Europe before 1550, this data provides enough information to allow for a discussion of the main developments during the 150 years directly preceding 1550. As a recent investigation by Spring and Higgitt (2006) has demonstrated that chemical interactions between the oil binder and pigments in the paint or ground films may in earlier investigations have resulted in false positives for proteinaceous binder additions, special care must be taken with early identifications of emulsion binders.
Although this dissertation focus on North West Europe, the present chapter also deals with developments in Italy. This is necessary, since, as will become clear, modern literature discusses the influence both areas have had on each other’s development. Prior research generally states that Medieval oil painting on panel in Northern Europe has influenced a transition from tempera to oil painting in Italy. Conversely the introduction of oil painting on canvas, which is described as having taken place in Venice, is considered to have spread through Europe, reaching North West Europe later.
Developments in the colour employed for preparatory layers are described separately at the end of the present chapter.
4.1 Preparatory layers for wooden panels, c. 1400-1550
While earlier research (see below) has not found any evidence to indicate that oil paint is employed on canvas prior to the late fifteenth or early sixteenth century, the use of oil binding media on panel has been documented much earlier. Analysis of the scattered evidence that remains, has led to the conclusion that oil binding media may have played an important role in Northern Europe throughout the Middle Ages. Dunkerton et al. (1991) even suggest that oil was the ‘indigenous panel painting medium’ in medieval
Important contributions to the present-day knowledge about the painting techniques of the Flemish primitives are the descriptions of paintings that appear regularly in the National Gallery Technical Bulletin. Volume 18 of this Bulletin is devoted solely to Flemish primitives and includes the results of the analysis of 45 paintings (Campbell, Foister and Roy 1997). In 1998, Mund and Stroo (eds.) published: Early Netherlandish painting (1400-1500): a bibliography (1984-1998), volume 8 of the Contributions à l’étude des Primitifs Flamands, Brussels: KIK/IRPA. These are just a few important contributions. References in Chapter 4 will concentrate on the most recent publications relevant to the present context. Focus lies only on those publications that provide evidence for their statements about the characteristics of preparatory layers, leaving aside those publications that do not substantiate claims about materials and techniques with references to specific information sources in the form of recipes or technical examinations.
6 See Spring and Higgitt 2006
7 See for more information on the cultural and political boundaries and cross-currents in the period preceding Van Eyck for instance: Kemperdick and Lammertse 2012; see Aikema and Brown 1999 for information on trade and cultural coss-currents between Venice and Northern Europe; see Nuttall 2004 about the influence of Flemish artists on connections between artists from Florence and Flanders in the period 1400-1500.
8 Examples will be provided below.
Northern Europe and egg tempera only a temporary fashion during the fourteenth century. In recent years, an increasing number of publications have appeared that document the use of oil binders in Medieval painted altars and polychrome sculpture.
Whereas recent publications suggest a more important role for oil in Northern Europe, published results of scientific analysis lead to the conclusion that in Italy, egg tempera was the most important binder employed in panel painting until at least 1400. However as Nuttall (2004) writes, oil was used in Italian workshops throughout the middle ages for other purposes (mordent gilding, varnishes, translucent glazes on metal leaf and some glazes in tempera paintings). Therefore knowledge of the basic properties of oils and of the preparation of oils for painting was present.
Evidence shows that the role of oil binding media in Italy increased during the fifteenth century. Dunkerton (1996), who together with her colleagues from the National Gallery in London has published widely on Italian painting techniques, describes the use of mixed techniques: oil and egg were sometimes combined within a single paint, they were used in alternate layers, or were combined within one painting but used in separate areas. Dunkerton for instance describes the use of opaque aqueous underpainting covered by transparent oil-based glazes. The earliest Italian example she has located that demonstrates such techniques is thought to date from the 1420s.
Dunkerton believes that the growing role of oil as a binder is the result of Flemish influence and mentions Flemish paintings that were on show in Italy, Flemish artists working in Italy and Italian painters travelling north as important stimuli for the transition from tempera-based techniques to oil-based painting. Also Nuttall (2004) describes a growing influence of Flemish models in Florence from about 1460 onwards, even though she notes a reluctance of Florentine painters to abandon traditional tempera painting techniques. Nuttall observes that the Florentine artists of the second half of the fifteenth century attempted to create effects similar to those observed in Flemish paintings ‘within the existing technical disciplines’.
---
14 She remarks that the number of works examined (70) was limited. Dunkerton 1996: 29-34. Elsewhere Dunkerton expresses the fear that due to the low number of works having survived, the question of the transition from mainly tempera painting in Italy to the use of mainly oil as a paint binder for easel paintings may never be fully resolved. Dunkerton et al. 1991: 197
that the transition to oil painting in Italy was gradual and that even by the beginning of
the sixteenth century it ‘was far from complete’. 17
As will be seen, paint analyses and historical recipes demonstrate that in Italy, both the
transition from mainly tempera painting to oil painting and the introduction of oil painting
on canvas went hand in hand with developments in the layer build-up of preparatory
layers and with the introduction of different materials. This suggests that these
developments were related to the use of oil as a binder. The next paragraph will discuss
these innovations in preparatory layers.
4.1.1 Preparatory systems for panel paintings during the fifteenth century
Historical recipes compiled in the published research18 in combination with analyses
published by Straub, support the assumption that the grounds used in Medieval tempera
painting were commonly bound in glue. 19 It is generally accepted that North of the Alps
these glue-bound grounds contained mainly chalk (CaCO3) as filler, whereas in Italy
gypsum (CaSO4.nH2O) was the predominant filler.20 Scientific analysis has shown that in
Portugal and Spain both gypsum and chalk were employed. 21 It has been concluded that
the occurrence of both types of fillers was dictated by local availability, a hypothesis that
is supported by several authors who analysed the paintings of a number of Dutch artists
working in Italy and showed that in their Italian paintings, these artists make use of
gypsum grounds. 22 Fernandes Pombo Cardoso (2010) however in her study of grounds on
Portuguese baroque altarpieces comes to a different conclusion regarding the occurrence
of chalk and glue preparatory layers in Portugal. She questions the conclusions of earlier
authors that artists only employed of local materials, rather she remarks that some of the
panel paintings on which chalk grounds are found have strong ties to Flemish practice,
which implies that established tradition with a specific material outweighs local
availability. 23
The calcium carbonate most frequently found in North European painting grounds is a
marine sedimentation product consisting of the skeletal remains of small prehistoric
invertebrate sea creatures. Microscopically small skeletal remains such as coccoliths and
foraminifers are an important feature of this type of chalk and may provide the possibility
17 Quote: Dunkerton 1991: 204. Dunkerton’s description of 15th century Italian oil painting appears on pages
197-204.
18 See below for information on these recipes, see also Appendix 4.
19 Straub 1984: 155 etc. provides an overview of published analyses of medieval chalk and gypsum grounds;
more recent data is available in Christie 1988; Dunkerton et al. 1991; Martin et al. 1992; Billinge et al. 1997;
Veliz 1998; Santos Gomez et al. 1998; Hackney et al. 1999; Dunkerton et al. 1999; Kempski 2003; Noble
2004; Hendriks 2006a, 2006b.
example of calcium carbonate grounds are ca. 1260, Madonna statue, Lucca; Cimabue, Madonna with angels,
Louvre (Straub 1984: 156). Gypsum was analysed in the thirteenth century Westminster Retable, produced in
East Anglia, England. According to the authors, late Medieval paintings indeed show a general division
between the use of chalk North of the Alps and gypsum South of the Alps, however analyses of early
Medieval art shows more examples of the use of gypsum in North Europe (Binski and Massing 2011: 238).
22 San Andrés et al. 1997: 92. The same trend has been noted during the sixteenth century (Van de Graaf
to determine its geographical origin. Calcium carbonate also appears in nature as precipitated limestone. However according to Straub (1984) and Dunkerton (1999) its use seems to have been less common than the marine sediment. Examples are known of the use of dolomite (mixture of CaCO₃ and CaCO₃.MgCO₃) in Medieval Burgundy, Bohemia and Poland and in the Alpine regions, where it was mined locally. Heydenreich (2007) in his research on Lucas Cranach concludes that this artist used mainly local limestone, since only in a few panel paintings the remains of fossils were found. Goldberg (1998) writes that in Dürer’s paintings, different calcium carbonates were used. Whereas some grounds were prepared with sedimentary chalk, chalks in other paintings show characteristics that point towards the use of rehydrated burnt calcium carbonate-containing rock or egg-shells. In German chalk and glue grounds, additions of gypsum or even of lead white to the chalk have been found. In contrast to gypsum, chalk does not require as much pre-treatment to prepare it for use in a ground. After collection, it was probably just washed and slaked to remove impurities and then mixed straight with animal skin glue.
Whether wooden boards were generally sized before ground application remains uncertain because of a lack of analytical data. The Bavarian ‘Liber Illuministarum’, or ‘Tegernsee manuscript’ (c. 1500) advises to soak the wood in glue three times before ground application. In some cases the support was covered with a layer of cloth or parchment, alternatively plant fibres. This preparatory step is not described in contemporary North European recipes, but Skaug (2008a) identified canvas, parchment and fibrous coverings on North European panel paintings dating from this period. Although Skaug remarks that much more research is required, he tentatively concludes that results so far seem to indicate that before 1500, North European artists most commonly employed strips of canvas or fibre to cover the joints of the boards, whereas in Italy more examples are found of panels covered completely with one or more canvas layers. Skaug furthermore writes that after 1500, such local differences were no longer apparent and notes that in general after that date, only fibres were used to cover the joints.
26 Heydenreich 2007: 93.
28 Straub 1984: 156.
29 Unfortunately hardly any fifteenth century North European recipes seem to have survived. For that reason, the much earlier treatise written by monk Theophilus is often cited in this context. Although probably written in the eleventh century, his descriptions are commonly considered to still apply to fourteenth century panel preparation. In the absence of other sources, his recipe for a ground preparation for panels on altarpieces or on doors is included here. Theophilus advised the use of burnt gypsum or of chalk to prepare panels. His recipe for a calcium carbonate ground specified grinding the calcium carbonate with water and adding animal glue. The mixture was applied up to three times onto the panel which had been covered with untanned, de-haired horse skin. Each layer was applied more thickly than the earlier. After ground application, the surface was scraped with ‘Schachtelhalm’ (reeds or rushes). Theophilus 11th century and later (edition London; John Murray 1847): 22-3.
30 ‘Liber illuministarum’ c. 1500, transcribed by Bartl et al. 2005: 182-3. Research by (Witlox and Carlyle 2005: 520) compared 17th-19th century recipes for panel preparation and canvas preparation and showed that although for canvas preparation size layers are mentioned in a large proportion of the recipes, size layers are frequently omitted from panel preparation recipes.
31 Coverings were described by Cennini. Cennini c. 1400 (edition Frezzato 2003): 144.
32 Skaug 2008a: 24-9. See below for a discussion on the application of coverings in Italian panel paintings. Skaug describes the use of different types of whole or partial coverings on panel paintings from Italy,
Dunkerton et al. (1991) note that the Flemish and German chalk and glue grounds they investigated only rarely matched the greater thickness of Italian contemporary grounds. The authors relate this difference to the quality of the support, Italian panels (often poplar) having more defects and a rougher texture than the woods typically used in Northern Europe (oak, lime).33 Also the fact that full coverings were more common in Italy than in North European examples is possibly be related to the quality of the wood.34
To prevent both gypsum and chalk and glue grounds from absorbing too much tempera paint binder, un-pigmented isolation layers are suspected to occasionally have been applied to grounds intended for tempera painting. This is supported by the fact that the Bavarian Liber Illuministarum (c. 1500) advises against their application to areas that would be gilded, probably because such layers would increase the hardness or brittleness of the ground and would therefore hinder the burnishing of gold leaf.35
Oil paint application on an unsaturated glue-bound surface is more troublesome than on a more binder rich, saturated surface.36 Therefore isolation layers seem to have played a more important role in paintings executed in oil. Furthermore, uneven absorption of the paint binder can potentially be problematic when using the transparent oil-based glazes so typical of early Flemish and German oil painting, more so than when using opaque tempera paints.
The theory that non-pigmented oil, glue or oleoresinous isolation layers are a common feature of early oil painting is supported by several modern authors describing fifteenth and sixteenth century Middle and North European oil painting practice, who observed such layers in paint cross sections.37 However it must be noted that the thinness of the...
possible isolation layer combined with the absorbency of the ground makes a positive identification difficult, even uncertain.
Until recently, the capability of analytical techniques to identify the binder of generally very thin isolation layers was limited. Therefore the amount of data on the materials used in isolation layers is small. A complicating factor for the determination of the binder, which should also be taken into consideration, is the mobility of binder components. Reconstructions by Carlyle, analysed by Keune (2005), have shown that binder components may become dispersed into other paint layers, even in the presence of intermediary isolation layers.
Pigmented isolation layers have been found on Northern European oil paintings dating from as early as the thirteenth century, produced in Norway and England. These first examples were of a whitish tone and consist of mainly lead white, thought to have been bound in oil. Lead white is considered to have added to the ground’s luminosity, which would have been important in the Early Flemish manner of painting that uses transparent glazes and is described as having exploited the light reflecting properties of whitish preparatory layers.
During the period c. 1400-1550, the colours employed for pigmented isolation layers diversified. Since a number of modern authors relate this development to contemporary developments in canvas painting and describe colour developments in North Europe as following from the introduction of coloured grounds in Italy, the topic of colour will be discussed in more detail later, in Paragraph 4.3 of the present chapter, after an overview of preparatory layers employed in Italian panel and canvas painting has been provided.
4.1.2 Preparatory layers for panel paintings in Italy, c. 1400-1550
As will be seen, fifteenth century Italian recipes for preparatory layers for panel still mention the calcium sulphate fillers that were prescribed in earlier medieval recipes. Recipes also describe the use of animal glue size layers and parchment or canvas coverings. Skaug (2006, 2008a) identifies the use of different types of coverings on
panels dating from this period.\textsuperscript{44} Cennini (c. 1400) describes a preparatory system that consists of multiple coats of \textit{gesso grosso} followed by coats of \textit{gesso sottile} (Fig. 4.1).\textsuperscript{45} Indeed such preparatory layers are identified on a large number of medieval Italian paintings.\textsuperscript{46} Bomford et al. (1989) and Thomas (1995) both agree that ‘standard’ panels may have been prepared by specialists in this craft, whose existence was mentioned in contemporary sources. However Thomas quotes archival information that seems to indicate that in some cases, especially for larger altarpieces with a non-standard format, \textit{gesso} application is performed by the workshop itself.\textsuperscript{47}
On the basis of their scientific investigations Dunkerton et al. (1991) conclude that a simplification in layer structure takes place during the fifteenth century.\textsuperscript{48} In a number of cases the National Gallery London researchers find only single grounds, consisting either of \textit{gesso grosso} or \textit{sottile}, \textit{gesso sottile} mainly in areas North of the Appenines and \textit{grosso} South of these mountains. They furthermore note that some painters vary between both types of \textit{gesso}. Dunkerton \textit{et al.} provide the example of Neri di Bicci, who leaves a written record that states that he prepared one crucifix with \textit{grosso} and another with a \textit{sottile} \textit{gesso}.\textsuperscript{49} They report that in some paintings a combination of both types of \textit{gesso} is present within a single layer.\textsuperscript{50} According to Martin (1992), the Tuscan school of painting forms an exception and continues producing grounds consisting of both the \textit{grosso} and \textit{sottile} layers.\textsuperscript{51}
---
\textsuperscript{44} Skaug’s investigations identified linen, parchment and fibrous coverings on panels in Medieval Italy. They were either applied below the ground or between ground layers. He concluded that their purpose was either to reinforce and homogenize the whole of the support, or they were applied locally to weak areas like the joints of planks or knots (Skaug 2006: 182-201; Skaug 2008a).
\textsuperscript{45} Two types of gypsum occur in nature: calcium sulphate dihydrate (CaSO\textsubscript{4}.2H\textsubscript{2}O) and anhydrite (CaSO\textsubscript{4}). They are rather gritty and hard, but apparently can be used as fillers without processing. Burning (and slaking) purifies them and makes them more suitable for the smooth grounds required for gilding. By burning calcium sulphate dihydrate, associated water is driven off. This is the process employed to make \textit{gesso grosso}. See for detailed information on this process: Federspiel 1995; Zillich 1998; Santos Goméz 2008; Fernandes Pombo Cardoso 2010. Cennini’s instructions describe steeping the \textit{gesso} in water and state that this soft powder, mixed with animal skin glue, was used for the \textit{gesso sottile}. Cennini c. 1400 (edition Frezzato 2003: 145).
Although Cennini prescribes burned gypsum mixed with animal skin glue for the \textit{gesso grosso}, analyses of \textit{gesso grosso} from Italian as well as Spanish paintings have shown that these layers can also contain mixtures of anhydrite with hemi-hydrate and sometimes even dehydrate (Straub 1984: 156-7; Dunkerton 1991: 163, Martin 1992: 82-92; San Andrés et al. 1997: 93-4). San Andrés suggests that these mixtures may result from a partial re-hydration of the gypsum that takes place over time (San Andrés et al. 1997: 98). It cannot be ruled out that mixtures may be the result of fluctuating burning conditions in medieval ovens. Indeed this topic is discussed by Fernandes Pombo Cardoso, who points out that such mixtures have longer setting times, which creates a longer window in which the mixture may be used. Fernandes Pombo Cardoso 2010: 84.
\textsuperscript{46} Examples of early analyses are given in Bones 1954; Gettens and Mrose 1954. More recent descriptions are available for instance from Straub 1984; Bomford 1989; Dunkerton et al. 1991.
\textsuperscript{47} Thomas 1995: 155-7; Bomford et al. 1989: 19.
\textsuperscript{48} Van Duijn et al. and Vandivere note simplifications in a comparison of fifteenth and sixteenth century technique. They interpret them as sign of a transition to more economical painting methods. Van Duijn et al. 2011: 104-110; Vandivere 2011: 7
\textsuperscript{49} Dunkerton et al. 1991: 163. It is interesting to note that also in descriptions of the paint layer build-up of artists from the North Netherlands Leiden school, Van Duijn et al. and Vandivere note simplifications in a comparison of fifteenth and sixteenth century technique. They interpret them as sign of a transition to more economical painting methods. Van Duijn et al. 2011: 104-110; Vandivere 2011: 7
\textsuperscript{50} Dunkerton et al. 1999: 218. It cannot be ruled out that the mixture resulted from incomplete de- or re-hydration during the preparation of the gypsum by burning and slaking.
\textsuperscript{51} Martin 1992.
Air bubbles in the gesso preparation and scratches from scraping the panel after ground application that are noted in a number of paintings, led Dunkerton and colleagues to conclude that during the sixteenth century, grounds may have been applied less carefully than before.52 Dunkerton et al. (1991) link the apparent simplification in layer build-up to the gradual disappearance of gilding from paintings,53 which eliminates the need for an absolutely smooth support. In a later publication the same authors point out that gilding does not disappear completely and remains in use in some more traditional areas of Italy and in Germany, as well as for specific details in paintings from other artistic centres.54
The gesso ground recipes provided by Cennini (c. 1400) and the fifteenth century ‘Bolognese manuscript’ do not reflect this simplification. Both sources mention a layer build-up consisting of both gesso grosso and sottile. However it may be significant to note here that both recipes appear to relate to tempera, not to oil painting.55 Filarete (Antonio Averlino) (c. 1452-62) describes oil painting on panel. From his recipe it is not clear whether the gesso consists of one or two layers, as the author does not pay much attention at all to gesso preparation and application. He only states that after the panel has received a gesso (‘ingessato’) and has been polished, a glue isolation layer and then a layer of oil paint are applied before the support is considered ready for oil painting.56
4.2 Preparatory layers for canvas paintings, c. 1400-1550
Although canvas was employed for painting during the middle ages,57 oil binders were apparently not used to paint on this support. Of the few remaining fifteenth century
---
52 Dunkerton et al. 1999: 218, Dietz et al. 2011: 91. Heydenreich notes a pattern of scratches in the ground surface of some paintings by Cranach the Elder that appears to have been applied with a toothed plane (Heydenreich 2007: 94). Bruquetas-Galán describes how some Spanish sixteenth century panel paintings show cross-hatched diagonal scratches in the support that appear to have been applied deliberately, possibly to increase adhesion of the ground layers to the wood (Bruquetas-Galán 2002: 222-4).
54 Dunkerton et al. 1999: 220.
55 Cennini c. 1400 (edition Frezzato 2003): 142-3, etc. After his description of panel preparation, Cennini describes gilding and tempera painting. It therefore appears that this recipe is connected to tempera painting. According to Merrifield, who transcribed the sections relevant to art, the Bolognese manuscript does not include any prescriptions for oil painting, although it does contain a reference to boiling oil. ‘Bolognese manuscript’ 15th century (transcribed in Merrifield 1849 (1999): 594-5).
57 The extent to which canvas was employed during the Middle Ages is difficult to establish due to the low number of surviving works. If we would base our understanding on the number of paintings preserved in public collections and on the attention medieval panel paintings have received in the modern literature, it would even seem that during the Middle Ages the use of canvas supports was rather exceptional (See for instance Billinge et al. 1997: 16, who note that the majority of Flemish and German paintings dating from 1400-1550 in the collection of the National Gallery in London is on panel.) However documentary evidence suggests a more regular use of canvas supports (Dunkerton et al. 1991: 161). Both Wolfthal and Dunkerton partially attribute this discrepancy to the lower durability of canvas paintings, a hypothesis that is supported by the often degraded and fragile state of the few surviving examples (Wolfthal 1989, Dunkerton et al. 1991). Apart from the supposed influence of the support and aqueous technique on the stability of the painting, also its function may have played a role: According to (Dunkerton et al. 1991: 161), canvas was the usual choice for temporary decorations. Wolfthal 1989 describes its use as a lightweight alternative for panel paintings that had to travel, as temporary decorations and as alternatives to wall tapestries (Wolfthal 1989). See also Heydenreich 2007, who discusses early oil painting on canvas in the context of Cranach.
paintings on canvas,58 both Flemish and Italian, only a small number has been analyzed to date, and the results suggest the use of aqueous binding media, which places such canvases outside the scope of the present research.59
The general understanding is that the first canvas paintings executed in an oil binder were painted in Venice just before 1500.60 Dunkerton et al. (1991) link their appearance to the damp conditions in Venice, which do not favour the use of panel or fresco, both being moisture sensitive. This is a strange theory, as canvas is also sensitive to moisture. The preparatory systems of the first canvas paintings, described below, often includes aqueous layers. This would result in a moisture sensitive system. As noted by Vasari 1550 (edition 1568), the greater ease of transporting canvas by rolling may have contributed to their popularity over panels. In particular in Venice, where canals inhibit road transport and necessitate light water crafts, this advantage may have been an important one.61
Apparently many Venetians were quickly won over by the characteristics and possible advantages of canvas paintings. Of the next generation of painters, Titian (1485-1576) and Veronese (1528-1588) both painted almost exclusively on canvas.62 Koller (1984) points out that in some Italian cities, like Rome and Florence, panel remained the favoured support until well into the sixteenth century.63 Miedema and Meijer (1979), who investigated the introduction of coloured grounds in the Netherlands, concluded on the basis of their calculations of the number of paintings in several large exhibitions executed on either support, that during the sixteenth century the fashion for canvas spread to Spain and that its use in Northern Europe also increased quickly. A tie with Venice seems legitimate, since their investigations showed that Venice acted as forerunner and influenced artists, such as the Haarlem Mannerists in the Netherlands.64
58 Executed on linen (in most cases) or silk of a very fine weave. Wolfthal 1989; Dunkerton et al. 1991.
59 Koller describes how aqueous paintings on fine canvas continue to be executed in sixteenth century Flanders. Koller 1984: 290. Of the nine canvases whose analysis was described by Wolfthal (1989), a ground layer could be detected in only five. These ground layers were thin and were described as bound with animal glue. Some contained chalk, others earth pigments. Wolfthal 1989: 24-25. Wolfthal supposes that in cases where no ground was detected at least a size layer must have been used to prevent bleeding of the paint into the canvas. The fact that coloured preparations were seen is interesting in relation to the introduction of coloured grounds, which in North West Europe took place much later than contemporary watercolour paintings on canvas. See also Dunkerton et al. 1991: 164. Straub (1984), Wolfthal (1989) and Dunkerton et al. (1991) discuss a number of recipes that describe preparatory layers for aqueous paintings on canvas. Those recipes also mention animal glue size layers or animal glue as binder for a thin ground layer. In addition, gum Arabic is mentioned. The sources mentioned by these authors include Heraclius, twelfth century (see Straub 1984: 151) and Le Begue (transcription dated c. 1431) (transcribed in Merrifield 1849 (1999): 85 etc.). Cennini described a layer of animal glue followed by a thin layer of gesso sottile to fill the canvas interstices, applied using a knife. This layer contained a little starch or sugar to raise it’s flexibility. After drying, it was scraped down with the same knife to ensure its thinness. Cennini c. 1400 (edition Frezzato 2003): 182-3.
61 Vasari 1550 (edition 1568: 53
63 Koller 1984: 292. Dunkerton and Spring 1998’s survey of Italian sixteenth century paintings shows a similar contrast in different Italian regions. Naturally one must keep in mind here that the exact ratio may have been influenced by collecting policy.
64 Miedema and Meijer 1979: 87. Abraham (1989) wrote an interesting master thesis on the Haarlem mannerists’ use of coloured grounds. She combined microscopic examination and painting examination with
Given these signs of Italian influence, it is not surprising that a number of modern authors discuss North European canvas preparations in relation to the materials and techniques used for canvas preparation in Italy.
4.2.1 Preparatory layers for canvas in Italy
It seems logical to assume that the materials traditionally used for panel grounds would initially be employed for canvas preparation as well. Due to the low number of surviving fifteenth century oil paintings on canvas, analytical data on their grounds is unfortunately rare. Paolo Uccello’s *St. George and the dragon* (probably early 1470s) is executed in oil on canvas prepared with a first layer of gesso (calcium sulphate), which corresponds to preparatory layers employed for contemporary panel painting.
Analyses by Dunkerton & Spring (1998) confirm that thin gesso grounds continued to be used in Venetian canvas paintings during the sixteenth century. In the majority of the cases investigated, gesso layers were applied as single grounds. Analyses of oil paintings on canvas from other Italian regions also indicate the use of single gesso grounds. Koller (1984) provides examples of the addition of other materials to gesso layers, such as smalt, found in some of Tintoretto’s paintings (before 1550/60) and lead white, found in the paintings of Salviati (dated circa 1530-40).
Both Birkmaier (1995) and Dunkerton & Spring (1998) performed analyses of Titian’s grounds. They report that in some cases Titian worked straight on a gesso/glue ground but that he also employed gesso grounds covered with a whitish or light coloured oil ground, a layer build-up very similar to contemporary panel grounds.
Dunkerton & Spring (1998) describe how a number of paintings executed by the generation of painters after Titian were painted on coloured, oil-based grounds applied straight to the (sized) canvas. In the Venetian examples discussed, the grounds had grey, greenish grey, reddish or brown hues and consisted of pigments and fillers such as lead white, gypsum, earths and blacks, with the addition of siccatives such as minium or litharge. A recipe by Vasari (1550) explains that a canvas that needs to be rolled should
---
65 Dunkerton and Spring 1998.
66 Dunkerton and Spring 1998.
69 See Paragraph 5.2
70 Dunkerton and Spring 1998’s tables show that also some paintings produced outside of Venice did not give any evidence of the application of a gesso layer before the white or coloured priming layer was applied. In their paper the authors describe that for each painting they used two, preferably more samples. This decreases the chance that gesso layers may have been missed during sampling.
not receive a gypsum and glue layer because this layer would flake upon rolling. Whether this indeed is the reason behind the omission of a gesso layer in the examples mentioned by Dunkerton and colleagues, cannot be proven.
4.2.2 Preparatory layers for canvas in North and Central Europe
Unfortunately very little analysis has been performed on the few sixteenth century North European oil paintings on canvas that have been preserved. The low number of surviving cases does not allow for comprehensive conclusions about the technique of such paintings. We do know however that chalk and glue grounds were employed in a number of these cases, covered with a white or coloured second ground. Billinge et al. (1997) describe the use of a chalk and glue preparatory layer for a Cologne Cycle of the life of Saint Lawrence, dated 1510. Analyses of a number of paintings from within the oeuvre of Lambert Lombard (Liège, 1505/06-1566) show that for his oil paintings this artist employed canvases that were covered with a thin chalk/glue ground on top of which a thin, greyish imprimatura was applied that consisted of lead white, chalk, black and in some cases a red pigment. Panel paintings attributed to Lombard’s studio are not executed with such tinted imprimaturas. Here, researchers Saverwyns and Sanyova just find thin oil ‘isolation layers’ that contain a little lead white.
It is interesting to note that Lombard’s workshop apparently employed a different preparatory system and colour depending on whether the ground was applied to panel or canvas. Research by Heydenreich (2007) on the painting technique of Lucas Cranach the Elder shows that this artist also uses different preparations for panel and canvas. While Cranach nearly always employed chalk and glue grounds on panel, analysis of some of his canvas paintings show a different size layer and first ground layer binder. Here he used a size layer of glue and flour paste, a first ground that contained glue, flour paste and chalk and subsequently a layer of lead white and calcium carbonate in drying oil.
The Bavarian Liber illuministarum (c. 1500) provides differing recipes for the preparation of panel and canvas. Whereas for panel a layer build-up consisting of chalk and glue followed by an oil-based pigmented layer is advised, the preparatory system described for canvas consists of a glue and flour paste size layer, a layer of ‘whiting’ (probably chalk and glue), and finally -and only if the cloth is intended for oil painting- an isolation layer of oil.
---
73 The fact that the National Gallery in London only owns five Netherlandish school canvas paintings that fall within this period, of which a number are categorized as aqueous paintings without grounds, against a much larger number of panel paintings, demonstrates their scarcity. Billinge et al. 1997: 24.
74 Billinge et al. 1997: 24. The authors remark that such cycles may have had a ‘decorative function; they were cheap substitutes for tapestries’.
75 Sanyova and Saverwyns 2006: 270.
76 Sanyova and Saverwyns 2006: 295.
77 Heydenreich 2007: 245.
78 Nadolny 2008 provides an overview of terminology related to preparatory layers for panel supports before c. 1550.
79 Bartl et al. 2005: 184-185. A paste was boiled of flour and glue, which was applied as a size layer. Subsequently, a layer of ‘whiting’ ['weyss', chalk] was applied, and for oil painting this layer was impregnated with oil.
The advice to use an oil-based isolation layer, white or tinted, is comparable to contemporary Italian practice. The fact that instead of gypsum, these North European preparatory layers contain chalk is not surprising if we consider the local availability of both materials. So far no evidence of intermediary glue isolation layers has been found in North European paintings and the small number of investigated works from this period and region prevents a final conclusion on this topic. However animal glue isolation layers are described in contemporary Italian recipes.\(^8\)
**4.3 Developments in ground colour, c. 1400-1550**
Whereas the published research thus far indicates that fourteenth and early fifteenth recipes for preparatory layers describe white grounds\(^8\) and while analyses of contemporary paintings indeed finds whitish ground layers, it is evident that during the late fifteenth century the first examples of coloured grounds appeared. The question whether such coloured layers first appeared on canvas or on panel remains unresolved and will only be answered through the examination of a statistically significant number of paintings. The data assembled so far (see below) seems to point at a simultaneous introduction of coloured grounds for both supports.\(^8\)
In Northern Europe, some early fifteenth century Flemish and German artists are reported to have employed light, slightly toned lead white imprimaturas on panel, instead of purely white preparatory layers.\(^8\) For instance Jan van Eyck (ca. 1390-1441) and Hubert van Eyck (c. 1385/90-1426) used an warm white oil based layer (lead white with a minor addition of red) to cover the chalk and glue ground of the *Ghent altarpiece*,\(^8\) Van der Weyden (1399/1400-1464) employed lead white with a black and a red pigment, with possibly the addition of some calcium carbonate, in an oil-bound second ground layer for his *Descent from the Cross*.\(^8\) Ferreira, Morrison and Boon (2008) found a pigmented imprimatura layer of the *Sherborne triptych* (c. 1480).\(^8\) Early examples of more strongly coloured ground layers on panel appeared late in the fifteenth century and during the first part of the sixteenth century.\(^8\)
Miedema and Meijer’s research (1979) shows that in the Netherlands, coloured grounds on panel only became more frequent towards the end of the 16th century.\(^8\) The colour of such panel imprimaturas is described in Koller’s overview (1984) as ranging from grey (observed in several panel paintings dating from the later 16th century) to pink or ochre
\(^8\) Vasari 1550 (edition 1568): 53; Armenini 1587: 124-5
\(^8\) The only fifteenth century source located so far that hints at the use of different colours is Filarete (Antonio Averlino) 1452-62 in Van de Graaf 1958, citing (Oetingen 1890: 641)): 112, who states ‘If it is white, it’s good, and also if it another colour, it does not matter which colour it is’.
\(^8\) Dunkerton and Spring’s overview of grounds on Italian paintings from the National Gallery London collection reveals no patterns that linked the introduction of coloured ground colour to either support. Dunkerton and Spring 1998.
\(^8\) See Heydenreich 2007: 103 for examples.
\(^8\) Brinkman 1993: 212-3. Brinkman describes staining tests by Coremans that point to the use of oil.
\(^8\) Ferreira, Morrison and Boon 2008: 54-56.
\(^8\) Ferreira, Morrison and Boon 2008: 57.
\(^8\) See for additional examples Noble 2004; Vandivere 2011: 9.
\(^8\) Miedema and Meijer 1979: 79-98.
The general view is that coloured ground or imprimatura layers were introduced earlier to Italy than in North Europe. However, the notion that coloured grounds or imprimatura layers in North West Europe appeared under the influence of Italian examples does remain difficult to prove. Although the chronology of their introduction in different regions seems to point in this direction, coloured grounds becoming a general feature of Italian paintings sooner than of North European paintings, one may question whether such a chronology sufficiently proves this theory. Evidence does however exist of contacts between North and South Europe, as was mentioned above in relation to the ‘introduction’ of oil painting in Italy. Cross-fertilization seems logical and examples have been discussed in the literature.
The investigation by Dunkerton and Spring (1998) of the preparatory layers of nearly 140 sixteenth-century Italian paintings in the collection of the National Gallery in London provides the most extensive and convincing published evidence of the use of coloured grounds in Italian paintings, although the introduction of coloured grounds in Italy was certainly investigated by earlier researchers. Dunkerton and Spring’s research leads to the conclusion that a modification is required of the reputation of Venice as Italy’s most innovative artistic centre in this age. Dunkerton and Spring show that Venetian painters, although early in their adaptation of canvas supports for oil painting, did not play an innovative role when it comes to the development of coloured grounds. In contrast to surrounding artistic centres, where numerous examples were found of the use of coloured grounds, most works by Venetian painters examined continued using white, often gesso-based grounds throughout the sixteenth century. Furthermore, the examples of Venetian coloured grounds that are found, all date from the second half of the century, while in other regions mid to dark toned ground layers or imprimatura layers are found on paintings from the 1520s onwards, with some even earlier examples. Dunkerton and Spring (1998) describe Correggio, Dossi, Parmigianino, and the Brescian painters as forerunners whose oeuvres contain the earliest examples of markedly tinted imprimaturas, consisting of earth pigments or lead white tinted with earth pigments and with additions of black pigments.
Light to mid toned grounds (light grey, grey, light brown, warm brownish grey) are found most in paintings executed north of the Appenines, while more strongly or darker coloured grounds appear less frequently in those regions.
Publications by Noble (2004) and by Heydenreich (2007) indicate that the first examples of markedly coloured imprimatura layers that up to now have been found on paintings created in countries situated centrally between Italy and North Europe, also date from the first half of the sixteenth century. Just after 1500, Lucas Cranach the Elder employed light reddish or pinkish imprimaturas on panel, although he simultaneously continued painting on whitish imprimatura layers based on lead white. Heydenreich draws a convincing comparison between Cranach's use of light red imprimaturas as background for underdrawings, and this artist's use of light red toned paper for sketching. In early examples from Cranach's oeuvre, the imprimatura covers the underdrawing. However in later paintings Cranach executed his underdrawing on top of the coloured imprimatura.\textsuperscript{94} The imprimatura would thus indeed function as a base colour for the compositional sketch.
Heydenreich's examinations furthermore indicate that Cranach the Elder sometimes diverted from the application of traditional chalk and glue grounds below the pigmented imprimatura in his panel paintings. His oeuvre contains some examples of the use of reddish preparatory layers that contain red lead and lead white (with calcium carbonate). Reddish grounds seems to be rather rare around this date, although some examples from other artists have been published.\textsuperscript{95} Whether their use points to a particular purpose for the finished paintings, for instance outdoor placement, as suggested by Heydenreich, remains unresolved.\textsuperscript{96}
Also Hans Holbein's paintings are often mentioned as early examples for the use of coloured imprimaturas North of Italy. From the 1530s on, this artist employed both salmon-pink and grey imprimaturas on his panels.\textsuperscript{97} The present state of knowledge does not allow an answer to the question if Cranach and Holbein should indeed be seen as exceptionally early examples or if around this time the use of coloured imprimaturas was widespread in Central Europe; research with a wider scope would be required to answer this question.
In Italy, Vasari (1550, edition 1568) had described the application of an imprimatura as an even, non-patterned layer.\textsuperscript{98} However sometimes imprimaturas were applied with deliberate streakiness. Although Jan Brueghel the Elder is often associated with such application methods, streaky imprimaturas have also been documented in some paintings
\textsuperscript{94} Heydenreich 2007: 101-103.
\textsuperscript{95} Heydenreich 2007: 97-8.
\textsuperscript{96} This is suggested by Heydenreich for the reason that oil-based grounds are more water-resistant. Heydenreich 2007: 97.
\textsuperscript{97} Noble 2004: 330.
\textsuperscript{98} Vasari 1550 (edition 1568): 52. In the translation of: Brown/Maclehose 1960: 230: ‘this [ground] must be plastered over the panel and then beaten with the palm of the hand, so that it becomes evenly united and spread all over, and this many call the ‘imprimatura’’
by Lucas Cranach, 99 by Hans Memling and by Barthel Bruyn the Elder. 100 All these examples were created outside of Italy.
Sometimes double grounds with only oil as a binder appear to have been used. Christie (1988), who examined cross sections of a substantial number of sixteenth and seventeenth paintings, found evidence in paintings dated from the first half of the sixteenth century for the use of double grounds that consist of a lower layer based mainly on earth pigments (with additions of perhaps lead white, minium, black), covered by a top layer consisting of lead white, toned with pigments such as black, ochre, umber, red earth pigments, minium or vermilion. 101 Notwithstanding its frequent use in seventeenth century painting, this type of ground is not described in historical recipes before 1676, when first advised as a ground for canvas preparation by Frenchman Félibien. 102
Evidence suggests that painters did not always stick to the same ground colours. In a number of case studies, variations were reported. For instance both grey, brown and pinkish-grey grounds are observed in paintings by Correggio. 103 Dunkerton and Spring (1998) describe the use of both whitish and moderately coloured grounds for Francia, Garofalo, Lotto, Veronese, Bordon and Palma Vecchio. 104 A relation between ground colour and subject has been impossible to establish in these cases. However, it is suggested for some later painters (see Chapter 8).
4.4 Conclusions
As can be seen from this survey of the published literature, investigations focused on the period c. 1400-1550 depend much more on instrumental analysis than on recipe research. Although a number of recipes that describe Italian practice are available, documentary evidence for artist techniques North of the Alps remains scarce. It is hoped that future research into this area will reveal more material.
By incorporating published literature that focuses on the analysis of paintings from this time period, it is possible to create an overview of techniques and materials employed in preparatory layers in North, Middle and South Europe. However, the information available is not well divided over the different geographical areas and partially consists of relatively early publications. Studies have focused on Italian Medieval and Renaissance techniques. Also the techniques employed in early Flemish painting have received considerable attention. 105 On the other hand, most studies dealing with techniques employed within
100 Billinge et al. 1997: 22.
101 Christie 1988: 89.
103 Dunkerton et al. 1999: 272.
104 Dunkerton and Spring 1998: 122.
105 Systematic research on the Flemish primitives started in the 1950s at the KIK/IRPA in Brussels. The series of colloquia titled ‘Les dessins sous-jacent’ have made important contributions. Other examples of research are found in the work of the National Gallery London; in publications by the KIK/IRPA (see http://www.closertovaneyck.kikirpa.be), by Boersma et al. 2012. Also research by Van Asperen de Boer and Mollie Faries has contributed to our knowledge of techniques employed by the Flemish primitives. Notwithstanding this fact, technical descriptions of certain methods are still lacking. For instance (Nuttall 2000: 172) mentions the existence of a number of paintings by or from the circle of Van Eyck that were executed on parchment or paper attached to oak panels. No analytical data on the preparatory layers employed
German speaking countries and in France concentrate on single artists, or describe the techniques of a rather small group of painters. Information on British fifteenth and early sixteenth century painting is also very scarce.\textsuperscript{106}
To conclude, possibilities for a general overview of the period are limited. While a good level of knowledge has been developed on the basis of the investigation of paintings from important artistic centres and time periods, the historical recipes that are now available do not sufficiently cover the time period to allow for a meaningful overview of the time period before 1550.
\textsuperscript{106} Information on a number of British paintings is available through Christie 1988 (unpublished); Hackney et al. 1999. Tate Galleries in London have recently examined their collection of Tudor paintings and a publication of the results of these investigations is being prepared. Oral communication Klaas-Jan van den Berg, RCE, May 2013. |
DIGITAL DESIGN AND FABRICATION TECHNIQUES USING A
3-AXIS CNC MILL
A Senior Scholars Thesis
by
KY ROBIN COFFMAN
Submitted to the Office of Undergraduate Research
Texas A&M University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the designation as
UNDERGRADUATE RESEARCH SCHOLAR
April 2010
Major: Environmental Design
DIGITAL DESIGN AND FABRICATION TECHNIQUES USING A
3-AXIS CNC MILL
A Senior Scholars Thesis
by
KY ROBIN COFFMAN
Submitted to the Office of Undergraduate Research
Texas A&M University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the designation as
UNDERGRADUATE RESEARCH SCHOLAR
Approved by:
Research Advisor: Gabriel Esquivel
Associate Dean for Undergraduate Research: Robert C. Webb
April 2010
Major: Environmental Design
ABSTRACT
Ky Robin Coffman
Department of Architecture
Texas A&M University
Research Advisor: Professor Gabriel Esquivel
Department of Architecture
The objective of my research involves an investigation of the relationship between design and production through a case study fabrication project which utilizes digital design software and manufacturing technologies, to achieve a better understanding of where formal, spatial, and material possibilities lie. This project focuses specifically on using CNC (Computer Numerical Control) fabrication techniques to produce three-dimensional forms with poly-urethane foam aimed at achieving certain surface effects and material sensations. Critical to understanding the potentials of digital fabrication is an understanding of its evolution to its current role in contemporary architecture. My methods consist of a qualitative approach to the evolution of digital design tools and manufacturing technologies. I have conducted a thorough literature review and will provide an overview of concepts surrounding the digital paradigm such as materiality, sensation and affect. Secondly, a fabrication project was completed from design to production using a three-axis CNC mill, our current machine at the Texas A&M Architecture Ranch. Three-axis CNC mills are typically used to create surface effects
and not completely three-dimensional objects because of their inability to rotate out of the $z$-axis to make undercuts. We investigated different fabrication techniques that can be used to create completely three-dimensional forms with this machine and polyurethane foam. Included in the fabrication process was extensive material research as to which additive materials were best able to increase the foam’s surface strength and smoothness and provide appropriate finishing to produce a liquid-like effect. A sectioning technique using cuts in both the horizontal and vertical direction was developed and can serve as an example of a possible means of fabricating large scale three-dimensional forms with a three-axis mill. A machine with a great number of axes, four or five, would greatly cut down on material costs, as well as fabrication time and complex assembly and finishing techniques. We hope that this project will help encourage experimentation and research in the area of digital fabrication as contemporary architecture moves forward to a complex digital profession.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank my research advisor Professor Gabriel Esquivel for his perpetual support and enthusiasm throughout this and other projects. I will forever be grateful to him for introducing me to the world of digital design and fabrication and sharing his vast knowledge, experience, and visions with me. Matthew Richardson and Jeffrey Quantz were integral to the fabrication of this project and their hard work was truly invaluable. Jeffrey’s photography skills were essential in order to document the various stages of the work. This project would not have been possible in the first place if it were not for the design by Professor Esquivel and Chris Gassaway, and I thank them for giving me the opportunity to share in the realization of their design.
I would also like to thank Dr. Mark Clayton for sharing his knowledge of research methods with me and for his support of undergraduate research. The funding provided by the College of Architecture and the Undergraduate Research Scholars Program is greatly appreciated.
## NOMENCLATURE
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Abbreviation</th>
<th>Description</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>CAD</td>
<td>Computer-Aided Design</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CAM</td>
<td>Computer-Aided Manufacturing</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CNC</td>
<td>Computer Numerical Control</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CATIA</td>
<td>Computer Aided Three Dimensional Interactive Application</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>IGES</td>
<td>Initial Graphics Exchange Specification</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>NURBS</td>
<td>Non-Uniform Rational B-Splines</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
# TABLE OF CONTENTS
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Section</th>
<th>Page</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>ABSTRACT</td>
<td>iii</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ACKNOWLEDGMENTS</td>
<td>v</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>NOMENCLATURE</td>
<td>vi</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>TABLE OF CONTENTS</td>
<td>vii</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>LIST OF FIGURES</td>
<td>ix</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHAPTER</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>I INTRODUCTION</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>History</td>
<td>2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Malbec</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>II METHODS</td>
<td>5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Methods</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Materials and technological resources</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>III LITERATURE</td>
<td>9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Industry collaboration</td>
<td>9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Materiality</td>
<td>11</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Academic research</td>
<td>14</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>IV FABRICATION TECHNIQUES AND RESULTS</td>
<td>17</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Design intent</td>
<td>17</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Sectioning technique</td>
<td>21</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Modeling conversion and pre-milling preparations</td>
<td>24</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Milling</td>
<td>26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Finishing</td>
<td>28</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Assembly</td>
<td>32</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>V SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS</td>
<td>36</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Limitations</td>
<td>37</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
# LIST OF FIGURES
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>FIGURE</th>
<th>Page</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td>Dimensioned elevation of the overall design</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td>Poly-styrene test mills</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td>Stationary 3-Axis CNC machine</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td>Elevation and plan view of branch structure</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td>Exploded axonometric of branch structure configuration</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td>Cut-files</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td>Detail of milled surface</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8</td>
<td>Rough cut first step down</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9</td>
<td>Rough cut second step down</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10</td>
<td>Rough cut third step down</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>11</td>
<td>Rough cut forth, final step down</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12</td>
<td>Close-up of rough cut step down</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>13</td>
<td>Finish cut</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>14</td>
<td>Organization of milled branch pieces</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>15</td>
<td>Wall panel before and after joint compound</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>16</td>
<td>Assembled section of branch</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>17</td>
<td>Joining of branch structure sections</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>18</td>
<td>Finished wall panel detail</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>19</td>
<td>Final gallery installation</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
Digital media and emerging technologies are bridging the gap of design and production allowing for a more fluid translation of digital models to three-dimensional production through CNC machines, laser cutters, and 3D printers, among many others, thus rapidly expanding what we conceive to be formally, spatially, and materially possible (Iwamoto, 2009). The objective of my research is to examine the relationship between design and production through a case study fabrication project which utilizes digital design software and manufacturing technologies, in order to achieve a better understanding of where the formal, spatial, and material possibilities lie. Branko Kolarevic states that “each new experiment and each new collaborative pursuit will help broker change as projects move towards redefining techniques and methods of design conception and material realization.” (Kolarevic, Klinger, 2008). The fabrication project we completed, Malbec, employed extensive material research and we found that by challenging the properties of a traditional building material, poly-urethane foam, we were able to achieve better surface performance, and produce certain material effects. The specific methods and fabrication techniques used were thoroughly documented and analyzed, and we believe they can serve as an innovative example of the possibilities of what can be done using these technologies.
This thesis follows the style of Journal of Architectural and Planning Research.
For the purpose of this study, digital fabrication can essentially be defined as the manufacturing of building components directly from 3D computer data. It is a process that lies within the scope of computer-aided design and manufacturing (CAD/CAM), and relies on computer-driven machine tools to build or cut parts (Iwamoto, 2009).
**History**
In the past, Euclidian geometric construction procedures defined the limits of shape generation possibilities for architects, and was a rather long and laborious hand drafting process. Originally used as a mere presentation tool, early CAD technologies allowed for greater efficiency in terms of cost, time, and quality control for designers, but the shapes that were generated remained ultimately the same. Designers eventually began to expand on this tool, and began defining curved forms and surfaces with mathematical functions, which greatly expanded the shape universe (Mitchell, 2008). Essentially, as digital modeling software became more advanced, the forms that generated became more increasingly more advanced and complex. Software became not just a presentation tool, but a design tool as well, allowing architects to design irregular surface patterns and complex forms and CAM tools gave them the ability to actually produce them exactly as they were modeled. These technologies are opening the door to experimentation with new architectural aesthetics, and the production of affective, experiential atmospheres able to evoke emotional responses.
The manufacturing, engineering, and industrial design industries have been using CAD/CAM software for years, allowing for fluid transitions between design and efficient mass-production of standardized parts. They used 3D modeling software and computer numerical control technologies (CNC) which allow automated equipment to be controlled and operated in real time through the use of manufacturing programs that translate digital data into a language that the machine can understand. Although these technologies have been around for years, it is only within the past couple of decades or so that they have began being applied to contemporary architecture. The ability to mass-produce irregular building components within the same facility as standardized parts introduced the notion of differentiation into building design and production. It is now just as efficient and cost-effective for a CNC milling machine to produce thousands of unique objects as to produce thousands of identical ones (Reffat, 2008).
Malbec
The digital fabrication tools used in our project Malbec, included the digital modeling tools: Autodesk Maya and Rhino, the manufacturing software, MasterCAM, and our machine used was a 3-axis CNC (Computer Numerical Control) machine. Material removal is the essential characteristic of subtractive fabrication, and is generally a CNC milling technique. 3-axis CNC machines are the most common type of machine and allow for movement in the x, y, and z axes, therefore only allowing material to be removed from the top and sides. As the number of controlled axes increases, the complexity of the work that can be produced also increases (Schodek et al. 2005).
Machines with axes greater than 3 have the ability to make undercuts because the head holding the bit is able to rotate out of the z-axis. Since we were limited to using a 3-axis machine, the most challenging part of the fabrication process was to devise a technique that allowed us to mill and assemble the 3D portion of the design.
Research questions
Malbec addressed material experimentation with poly-urethane foam to produce expressive form. We strove for minimal design sacrifice by developing innovative fabrication techniques and assembly procedures which allowed us to find a way around the machine limitations. We were interested in how to create certain surface effects and increase material performance by combining the foam with additive materials including films, lacquers, and coatings. Malbec deals with issues such as architectural experience and it engages the scale of the human body. It can be perceived as an object as well as experienced as a sensate architectural environment.
CHAPTER II
METHODS
This research project utilized both a qualitative and quantitative method. The first being a categorization of the main themes identified in literature, and the second being the implementation of a digital fabrications project, Malbec, which included extensive material research and an investigation of material effects. I have taken a historical/interpretive approach to the literature and tried to organize it in a way that is cohesive and comprehensive to give a broad overview of very complex concepts surrounding contemporary digital design. In addition to the literature review, I have identified prior research concerning fabrication projects being done at academic institutions, including information from my visit to the digital fabrications facility at the Georgia Institute of Technology. It is important to have an understanding of the research being conducted at other prominent universities and the technologies being used in order for A&M to remain competitive in this fast-growing area of digital design. The second part of this thesis involved the actual fabrication from design to production of a project, Malbec, which utilized the manufacturing tools available at Texas A&M. This portion of the research has fostered the most results, enabling me to apply knowledge gained from the literature to the actual project implementation. Malbec was designed to be a prototype for a digital storefront that uses rustication as its articulation.
Methods
It is important to note that this project has not been undertaken solely by me, but with a collaborative group of other students and my advisor, Gabriel Esquivel. The project was fabricated by professor Esquivel, Matthew Richardson, Jeffrey Quantz, and me. While Chapter IV deals with our actual techniques and fabrication processes used, the basic method after completion of the design included file preparation, manufacturing, assembly, and finishing. Our data collection dealt with material experiments and an evaluation of the properties of materials, how they behave with different additive media, and what sizes, strengths, etc. were appropriate.
Analysis
A major part of the research was the analysis and documentation portion. Each step taken, and experiment done was documented to provide conclusions as to which processes, materials, techniques work together and which do not. The documentation provides the sequential set of step-by-step procedures that were used in each fabrication process. Some of the steps had possible alternative solutions and these issues have been addressed to the best of my ability. I have tried to present this information in a way that, people not familiar with digital design and fabrication can easily understand. Simultaneously, any person following each set of step-by-step procedures should be able to achieve the same results. It is important to note that each project is unique in and of itself and each requires separate evaluations of appropriate materials and fabrication processes. The techniques we provide are meant to serve as an example of one possible
solution to the problem of fabricating three-dimensional form using a 3-axis CNC mill however, there are alternative solutions.
**Materials and technological resources**
Since this project was carried out from design to production, it was important to be critically aware of our available production tools, and material possibilities early on in the design process. I believe that the evaluation each software, hardware, and analog tool was crucial to the success of this project. Every tool has a purpose, but that purpose should be continually challenged to foster new techniques and more innovative design solutions. Our primary software resources were Autodesk Maya and Rhinoceros, both of which were used back and forth for the design and file preparations. As mentioned earlier, we were confined to using the available production resources here at Texas A&M. The Architecture Ranch was our prime workspace, as they have a 3-axis CNC router, and other traditional woodshop machines, as well as the space needed to fabricate this large scale project.
**Limitations**
This project is limited in terms of generality, since each fabrication is project-specific and most likely cannot be applied to a broad range of design problems. It does however maintain a higher degree of reliability especially because the documentation is compiled as step-by-step narrative. Anyone that follows these exact steps should be able to achieve the same results, therefore verifying that what I have provided is reliable. The
availability of a CNC mill with a greater number of axes of rotation would allow for a much faster fabrication time and could have greatly simplified our assembly process, as well as cutting down on material waste. We believe that it was important to not allow the restrictions of the machine to limit the complexity of the design. Instead, we focused on finding innovative solutions that allowed us to deal with these limitations in a creative way and not sacrifice the integrity of the design. I believe that this was legitimate research project because “each new experiment and each new collaborative pursuit will help broker change as projects move towards redefining techniques and methods of design conception and material realization.” (Kolarevic, Klinger, 2008). Each new project is unique and will add to the collective body of knowledge concerning this relatively new and rapidly expanding field of design.
CHAPTER III
LITERATURE
This section focuses on the major themes identified in literature concerning contemporary digital design, theories, the evolving role of the architect, and prior research. It is meant to provide an overview of concepts, many of which influenced the production of Malbec.
**Industry collaboration**
The age of mechanical production, of linear processes and the strict division of labor, is rapidly collapsing around us. (Mori, 2002) The move from an architectural discipline of experts to a more multi-disciplinary field involving inherently collaborative ways of working is literally turning on its head a conventional and familiar modern business expectation of architectural practice. (Steele, 2008) The role of the architect in contemporary architecture becoming redefined and digital fabrication allows for the architect to regain their role as the master builder. Because the architect now has the opportunity to command control over both the design and construction processes and through collaboration with industry experts, projects are instilled with a higher level integrity. Brett Steele identifies the greatest challenge in architecture today as being the need for multi-disciplinary expertise within design teams. Architectural projects today collaborate between computer programmers, machinists, artists, composite material engineers, laser cutters, rubber workers, new media animators, mathematicians, etc… all
immeasurably more advanced than that of conventional construction and manufacturing trades. (Steel, 2008) This collaboration between experts in seemingly unrelated fields employs a higher degree of innovation and integration into projects than ever before. Projects are able to be much more complex because they have the ability to extend across multiple areas of design expertise.
Unique practices geared towards facilitating design and construction processes of new formal complexities and tectonic intricacies are establishing themselves as a result of this newfound need for industry collaboration. (Kolarevic, Klinger, 2008) Innovative practices like Front Inc. from New York, designtoproduction from Zurich, 3form Inc. from Salt Lake City, and Associated Fabrication developed by graduate students from Columbia University, have emerged as a kind of fabrication specialists, translating the needs of designers in to actual physical artifacts. Rather than spending hundreds of thousands of dollars investing in expensive CNC machinery, architecture firms are contracting out their fabrication projects to these recently established fabrication-specialist’s shops. In his paper, “Design Intelligence and the New Economy” Michael Speaks discusses the evolving roll of the architecture firm as a new “network practice” involving a complex series of geographical, functional, and formal relationships, ideas and information. He defines design intelligence as practices that allow for a greater degree of innovation because they encourage opportunism and risk-taking rather than problem solving. He argues that research is an essential ingredient for designing in the context of the 21st century. (Speaks, 2002).
At a smaller scale of the actual project implementation, there is collaboration between the digital model, fabrication process, and typically the finishing or assembly process. Digital fabrication allows for a simplified construction process because often the need for traditional building plans and sections is eliminated. Instead, fabricators navigate back and forth between the digital model and physical parts, or rely on diagrams that visually illustrate how pieces fit together. Because of this unique method of construction, there is potential for each process to inform and be informed by each other, thus altering the traditionally separate roles of the architect, contractor and construction manager. I believe there is great potential for innovation to occur within the gaps between these processes.
**Materiality**
As a result of the ability to design and construct fundamentally complex geometries, there has been a renewed interest by designers in materiality. Conventional construction materials are being re-invented and applied in unconventional ways, and also there is an emergence of new materials, with the ability to be engineered with per formative qualities, able to produce new effects. The emergence of new techniques and methods of digitally enabled making are “reaffirming the long forgotten notions of craft, resulting from a desire to extract intrinsic qualities of material and deploy them for particular effect.” (Kolarevic, Klinger, 2008) Of particular interest are “new” composite materials, such as polymers (plastics), fiberglass, and foams, for their high formability, relatively
low cost, minimum maintenance, and a relatively high strength-to-weight-ratio. (Kolarevic and Klinger, 2008). One of the results of these new material experiments is that material is no longer a fixed entity, but rather quite changeable. Since materials are no longer employed for purely functional reasons, the innovative, experimental use of them is encouraged and even pushed to the most extreme limits. For instance, plastic can now be made to look like metal and vice versa; therefore materials and the effects they produce are apt to change based on the nature of their context. (Spina, and Huljich, 2009).
**Material sensations**
The issue of materiality cannot be addressed without addressing the consequences thereof. As with all historical technological advances, the flux of digitally enabled making is being reflected in the architectural aesthetics of our generation. These aesthetics are concerned more with the experiential and affective qualities rather than modernism ideals of order and function. It is important to differentiate between the terms *effect* and *affect*. According to Peter Eisenman, *effect* refers to “something produced by an agent or cause; in architecture, it is the relationship between some object and its function or meaning.” Simultaneously, he defines *affect* as “the conscious subjective aspect of an emotion considered apart from bodily changes. Affect in architecture is simply the sensate response to a physical environment”. (Eisenman, 1992). So in other words, the production of specific *effects* can be used to produce emotional, *affective* responses. Different effects can be used to affect the perceptions
and experience of the forms, surfaces, and spaces; they can embody meanings, evoke feelings (Kolarevic and Klinger, 2008). Affect is the moment when the emotions or imagination of an observer are stimulated by their experiencing of an architectural space. Ideas about material sensations in architecture are nothing new. They were however lost with the ideology of the modernist era which preferred function over sensation. The creation of emotional environments was one of the fundamental concepts driving the Baroque architecture of the 17th century, which employed concepts like “glow” to fuse architecture, sculpture, and painting for architectural affect and religious affirmation. (Erdman, 2009). Marcelo Spina describes material sensations as “formal and material arrangements that could produce distinctive feelings independent from the particularities of the chosen material” and “deal with issues such as surface, articulation, perforation, texture, materiality, and tactility.” (Spina and Huljich, 2009) Material sensations interact with the body and aspire to effect the viewer’s emotions. Ornament is a fundamental instrument in the production of sensations. Ornament then does have a function. It functions to provoke feelings, aides in the creation of certain atmospheres and allows for cultural interventions, among others. Ornament is the figure that emerges from the material substrate, the expression of embedded forces through processes of construction, assembly, and growth. (Moussavi and Kubo, 2006). Kostas Terzidis focuses on addressing the sensate qualities of form, rather than material in his book, *Expressive Form*. He defines expressive form as embodying some of the most intrinsic, existential, and unique qualities of form: character and identity, and that it captures the
ontological spirit of form and it’s shaping forces; it manifests meaning, significance, and quintessence. (Terzidis, 2008).
**Academic research**
Digital fabrications programs are springing up at a variety of different universities across the nations including, Colombia University, Southern California Institute of Architecture (SCI-ARC), Ball State University, and The Georgia Institute of Technology, among others. I was privileged to have the opportunity to visit the digital fabrications lab at the Georgia Institute of Technology, which I believe was an important and informative visit. Georgia Tech has recently added a post-professional Master of Science in Architecture program that concentrates on parametric modeling and generative design to close the gap between conception and realization. It allows for students to learn advanced scripting and digital modeling tools as well as cutting edge fabrication processes. In Georgia Tech professor, Lars Spuybroek’s, book *The Architecture of Variation*, he states that digital design has become “a curriculum in itself, a school within a school”, “often resulting in additional graduate and undergraduate programs, post graduate programs and special labs that attract students from all over the world”. (Spuybroek, 2009) Their fabrication lab contains numerous advanced production machines including a 5-axis CNC mill and a vacuum former, among many others. As previously mentioned, a primary advantage of a 5-axis mill over a 3-axis mill is that it allows for the production much more complex geometries with greater ease than a 3-axis machine. A facility with more complex production tools could be expected to yield a greater variety of projects
with more intricate geometries. The ability to produce a variety of full scale models through digital fabrication projects, both provides inspiration to future students, but also serves as research material. (Spuybroek, 2009).
Material research conducted by Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design in 2002 explored what new materials suggest for the future of architecture. Toshiko Mori emphasized the need for architects to regain contact with the material fabrication processes that has been lost as a result of relying on software programs that allow us to solve problems quickly and easily, but are often deceptive in terms of appearance of design completion. (Mori, 2002) Designers need to have a closer relationship with the fabrication process and material research to allow them “to better employ traditional materials” and also “to embrace the possibilities presented by new materials.” (Mori, 2002) This study focused on the developing new materials and techniques through built applications focusing of the categories of edge, surface, substance, and phenomena. By understanding materials’ basic properties, pushing their limits for greater performance, and at the same time being aware of their aesthetic values and psychological effects, an essential design role can be regained and expanded (Mori, 2002).
Currently, PROJECTiONE, a group of graduate students at Ball State University, are investigating the relationships between digital and analog techniques, the tools that exist in software and hardware, and the potentials of these processes to be challenged to create innovative design solutions. They emphasize their position as relying on an intimate
understanding of a variety of tools, both analog and digital and then applying this
towards the development of innovative relationships. (PROJECTiONE at Ball State
University). Simultaneously, the Institute for Digital Fabrication at Ball State,
i.M.A.D.E (innovation in manufacturing + design), acts as a catalyst of digital design
and fabrication techniques for both industry and education related to architecture and
allied arts. They frequently collaborate with industry professionals for to develop
solutions to real problems by managing a complex set of design constraints. These types
of programs give students the unique opportunity to gain knowledge from actual hands
on projects and experimentation. It helps to create a better understanding of the
production tools available as well as how different materials behave under different
conditions. Building at a 1:1 scale allows for a true understanding of architectural
spaces that we are designing, with a higher level of integrity than through digital
modeling alone.
CHAPTER IV
FABRICATION TECHNIQUES AND RESULTS
This section is meant to provide the details of the specific fabrication procedures used for our project, *Malbec*, and to present the findings of materials research for different kinds of foams. The overall design of *Malbec* was done by my research advisor, Gabriel Esquivel, and another student, Chris Gassaway. The fabrication of the project was executed by Professor Esquivel, Matthew Richardson, Jeff Quantz, and me. We also used a fabrication consultant from Yale University, Cody Davis to help with the fabrication of the 3-dimensional piece. I will explain the design intentions and present the machine and material limitations that governed much of the fabrication process followed by the techniques used and the overall outcomes. Provided is also an introduction to the different modeling and fabrication software used and the steps that were used to convert between the two.
**Design intent**
*Malbec* was designed to be a prototype for a non-transparent digital storefront which uses rustication as its articulation. Its primary intention was not to be representational of an actual façade but rather an engage the scale of the human body in an architectural way and conjure certain emotional, sensational responses through its form, surface articulation and materiality. It was intended to be exhibited in an indoor gallery space for the duration of 3 months so the material needed to be light-weight, while still
resilient enough to undergo transportation, and be able to handle a display time of 3 months. It needed to be a pliable material that could be easily sculpted into a smooth organic form. The design was also intended to have a glossy, plastic-like effect, so it had to be able to withstand a paint finish without disintegrating. Because of these design requirements and our method of fabrication being a 3-axis CNC mill, we knew that some type of foam would work the best since both wood and metal would be too heavy and difficult to sculpt. The design consists of an approximately 8’ by 8 ½’ area of wall panels and a 10’ by 3’ completely 3-dimensional “branch” structure. The panels were designed to be flat on one side, where they attach to the wall, while the branch structure is suspended above an opening in the wall and must be hung from above. Figure 1 shows an elevation of the design relative to the scale of a human.
FIGURE 1. Dimensioned elevation of the overall design.
Materials
We first experimented with 1/2” thick, 4’ x 8’ polystyrene insulation foam from Home Depot. This type of foam worked well during test mills, however there were several problems. First, the sheets only came in 1/2” thick sheets, without special order and therefore, 8 sheets had to be laminated together in order to achieve the desired material height of 4 inches. This led to testing of multiple means of adhesion. We experimented with contact-cement, spray adhesive, and finally Elmer’s glue. All of these worked to some degree, but often came unglued, with Elmer’s working the best out of the three. All glues left bands or seams of residue that were difficult to sand away after milling that gave a “striped” effect to the form. Secondly, this type of foam disintegrated when painted directly with certain types of paint. Figures 2 shows the first and second test mills of this type of foam, with the second having a coat of acrylic paint and a spot test of car paint on the end.
FIGURE 2. Poly-styrene test mills. Unfinished, and finished with primer and car paint.
Our next step was to experiment with poly-urethane foam, which is a common foam that has been used for CNC milling. Poly-urethane is more expensive than polystyrene but comes in a variety of different densities, typically in 2 pound increments with the higher the density of the foam, the higher the strength. It also comes in 4’ by 8’ sheets with varying thickness which allowed us to eliminate the step of laminating sheets together. We decided to use primarily 2 pound density foam for the wall panels but 10 pound density for the “neck”, or beginning of the sculpted 3-dimensional piece where we anticipated there would be weakness.
Machine limitations
Using a 3-axis CNC router comes with many strict limitations as far as what can physically be milled, which forced us to think creatively when trying to fabricate pieces that cannot be directly fabricated with this machine, such as the “branch” structure of the design. The wall panels were much more straightforward to mill because of their flat back. The machine was only needed to detail the surface on the top and cut out each panel, whereas we had to devise a technique that allowed us to mill and accurately assemble the branch structure that had curvature on each side. Since we were confined to using a 3-axis mill, we were limited to 3-axes of movement, in the \( x \) and \( y \) directions and limited movement in the \( z \) direction, approximately 4 \( \frac{1}{2} \) inches. While 3-axis CNC machines come in a variety of different types, the particular machine that we used had a stationary work-table with a carriage and gantry that move the tool in the \( x \) and \( y \) axes above the work, as seen in Figure 3. While this machine type allows for any number of
complex geometries to be carved out, it is limited to 3 axes of movement, and does not allow for material to be removed from the sides, or undercuts (Schodek, et al. 2005).
**Sectioning technique**
Before we could actually begin the fabrication process, we had to decide how the model was going to be broken up, and the location of joints since the overall design is much larger than a single sheet of foam which is 8’x4’x4”. The wall panels were designed so that they could each fit within a sheet of foam with only one of the pieces having to be split in two pieces. The branch structure of the design that extends to the right of the paneled wall pieces was designed to be completely 3-dimensional, a total sculpture with curvature on each side and perforations. Since a 3-axis mill does not have the ability to make undercuts, our biggest challenge was to figure out a technique that allowed us to fabricate this piece. A sectioning technique was used to split the piece into separate horizontal sections since the overall length was longer than 8 feet. It was then further
sectioned vertically with each sectioned piece not extending higher than 4 inches, due to the height of the foam stock. With this technique, we were able to mill many small pieces of the overall form that fit together much like a giant jigsaw puzzle. The red lines in Figure 4 show where the form was cut in both elevation view and plan view. Undercuts were not completely unavoidable but we tried to avoid them as much as possible, and the parts where undercuts could not be avoided had to be sanded by hand to approximate the geometry. Figure 5 shows an exploded axonometric of the overall branch structures and the separate pieces that make up the whole. By organizing the horizontal sections alpha-numerically, we were able to assemble the pieces of each section separately before combining the separate sections.
FIGURE 4. Elevation and plan view of branch structure. Red lines indicate cuts in the form to allow for fabrication.
FIGURE 5. Exploded axonometric of branch structure configuration. Shows sectioning technique of splitting branch into 7 sections horizontally (A-G) and then slicing those sections into 4 inch high pieces.
Modeling conversion and pre-milling preparations
The form was modeled in Autodesk Maya using polygonal modeling. Polygon surfaces in Maya are a network of 3-or-more sided flat surfaces that are connected together to create a “poly-mesh”. In order for the file to be compatible with the manufacturing software that controls the CNC machine, MasterCAM, it must be a Rhinoceros file and a NURBS surface. NURBS (Non-Uniform Rational B-Splines) use a method of mathematically describing curves and surfaces that are well suited to 3D applications. NURBS are characterized by the smooth organic forms they produce. After the polygonal surface was converted to a NURBS surface in Maya, we exported the file as an IGES (Initial Graphics Exchange Specification) format and then imported it into Rhinoceros to set-up the individual surfaces to be milled.
Cut-file set-up
Since we knew the size of our material stock, we drew a 4’ x 8’ plane in Rhino and placed the form to be milled in the center of the plane. This ensured that the edges of the form would not be slightly cut off due to inevitable inaccuracies when we aligned the foam on the cutting bed of the machine. We also had to make sure that the modeled form did not extend below the plane in the z direction, as the machine would read that and try to cut below the bottom of the material into the bed of the table. The trim command in Rhino was used to trim off the model that was below the level of the plane. We then imported each “cut-file” in MasterCAM, which converted the data from the digital model into a language that the CNC mill could understand and accurately
produce. Figure 6 shows the actual cut-files that were used to in MasterCAM to fabricate the entire design.
**Wall Panels**
**Branch Pieces**
**10 lb. Density Foam**
FIGURE 6. Cut-files. These were the files used in MasterCAM to fabricate wall panels and branch pieces in 4 ft. by 8 ft. by 4 in. sheets of poly-urethane foam. All sheets were of 2 lb. density except where indicated otherwise.
Material set-up
Before we could begin milling we had to set up the actual material stock (4’x8’x4” foam) on the cutting table, put in the specified bit, and then actually tell the machine where 0, 0, 0 is by “touching down” the bit. We always made sure there was a smooth composite board or masonite, i.e. “sacrifice board” so that the bit would not be ruined if it for some reason went below our material stock. Because the foam we used is extremely light-weight (2 pound density) we had to figure a way to keep the foam from moving during the milling process. We first tried double-sided foam tape, which was semi-strong but we still had problems with the foam coming un-stuck. It also has about a 1/8” thickness, which allowed for dust to get underneath the material and loosen the tape. Next, we tired double-sided carpet tape which was stronger and worked the best. We laid down strips of the tape length-wise on the composite board with 3 inch to 4 inch spacing between the strips and placed the foam on top. We also drilled scrap polystyrene “holders” around the perimeter of the foam to also help keep the foam from moving as you can see in Figure 1.
Milling
Depending on the size of the form to be milled, the actual milling process usually took about 3-4 hours for the rough-cut and about 2 or more hours for the finish-cut. We had to always have someone monitoring the milling, ready to stop the machine if a problem occurred. It was extremely important that the foam not move during the rough-cut because if it moved, it was impossible to re-secure the foam in the exact same position,
and resulted in an inaccurate finish-cut. Rough-cut is the term used to describe the first round of cutting that essentially gets the rough overall form cut out from the block of foam; the machine typically has $\frac{1}{2}''$ to 1” step-downs during the rough cut. The finish-cut is where the machine goes back and refines the surface of the form with much smaller step-downs and results in the smooth finished form, as seen in Figure 7. Figures 8-13 show the milling sequence of the rough and finish cuts. Milling was a very time consuming process, in which the machine does all or most of the work. Those who were not monitoring the machine used this time to assemble and finish the milled pieces that had already finished.
FIGURE 7. Detail of milled surface. Taken after the finish-cut and before sanding and finishing.
Finishing
The finishing process began as soon as each piece was done milling and another was started. For the large panels, finishing was much more simple than for the sculpted 3-dimensional pieces that had to be joined together first. The finishing process consisted
of sanding, lacquering, application of joint compound, more sanding, assembling and finally painting. One of the most important steps was to have a system of organization for the 3-dimensional pieces so that we could know which pieces went together and how they fit.
Organization
For the 3-dimensional sculpted pieces, there was a good deal of coordination back and forth between the computer model and the milling table for the arrangement of the pieces. The sculpted piece that was sectioned in Rhino was labeled A, B, C, D, E, F, and G, according to the corresponding horizontal segments. Then each segmented portion, sectioned in 4 inch increments, was laid out on the milling stock and labeled according to which section they belonged to (A-G). When the milling of these panels was finished, the pieces were taken directly off the cutting table and grouped on tables according to their appropriate groups, denoted by pieces of tape identifying the lettered groups, as seen in Figure 14. The appropriate configurations of the pieces within the groups were determined by examining the computer model. We found that it was much easier to figure out the configurations directly from rotating the computer model than it would have been with paper construction documents. The pieces where undercuts could not be avoided, were sometimes more difficult to identify since they came out looking quite different than in the digital model.
FIGURE 14. Organization of milled branch pieces. Arranged according to their appropriate section (A, B, C, D, E, F, and G).
Sanding
After pieces were organized, all parts of the milled wall panels and pieces were very lightly sanded, to smooth out the ripples from the finish cut. We used very fine grain sand paper, typically 180 grit or higher. For the sculptural 3-dimensional pieces, to achieve the smoothest forms, it was best to glue the pieces together before sanding, so that the joints would remain flush.
Application of lacquer and joint compound
The 2 pound density foam that we used for the majority of the form was incredibly soft and could be easily dented or nicked simply by touching it. We realized that in order for this foam to sustain transportation and installation in a gallery we had to devise a way to
strengthen the material so that it would not be so easily blemished. We found that a simple application of traditional wood lacquer added a good deal of strength to the material. As it dries, it hardens the foam and gives it a much stronger surface that is not as easily nicked. It was important to be sure that there would be no more sanding or changes to the basic form of each piece after this application, because it was very difficult to do after the lacquer has been applied. After the lacquer was completely dry, we applied a thick coat of joint compound, typically used for dry-wall, to the surface, as seen in Figure 15. Using rubber kitchen spatulas, we were able to easily smooth and sculpt the form. The application of joint compound allowed for holes and blemished to be filled that might have happened during milling or sanding. After the initial coat of joint compound dried, we lightly sanded the surface again to smooth out the lumps, and then repeated the process with a final coat of joint compound and one more round of light sanding. This was to ensure the surface was as smooth and fluid as possible, and that it was thick and durable enough to withstand automotive paint.
FIGURE 15. Wall panel before and after joint compound.
Assembly
The method that was outlined above was used for the majority of the form, including the wall panels, but a slightly altered method was used for the sectioned pieces that had to be assembled together as well. For these pieces, we first glued the pieces together according to their segmented categories (labeled A through G) using an epoxy resin and hardener. After the glued pieces had dried, we sanded the complete forms to achieve a more uniform smoothness, and even out the joints, as seen in Figure 16. The lacquer, joint compound, sanding method was then used on each entire assembled form. After each assembled form was dry we began to piece together the separate segmented groups. Since the entire length of the branch was over 8 feet long, we decided to join all of the pieces into two separate branches rather than one large one to allow for easier transportation, and installation. Because this sculptural piece would be suspended over an opening by wires, the connections needed to be very strong so that the branch would not break at the weak joints. For the weaker joints, especially those where the 10 pound density foam had to be joined to the 2 pound foam, we used metal dowel rods to hold the pieces together, as seen in Figure 17. We first drilled holes through the two separate pieces and inserted the metal rods, coated in epoxy resin and hardener, into them at opposing angles to add strength and stability. In some cases, such as joining pieces that were both 2 pound density, we used shorter wooden dowels instead. When using the dowel rod method of connecting the pieces, we always made sure to coat the face of the connecting surfaces in glue to ensure a tight joint. After the pieces were joined, we
applied generous coats of joint compound to smooth out and hide the seams. This often had to be repeated several times to achieve the smoothest seams.
FIGURE 17. Joining of branch structure sections. With the 10 pound density foam, metal dowel rods were used and with the 2 pound density foam wooden dowels were used.
**Painting**
The painting of the wall panels and branch structure was done by a professional automotive paint shop. This was the final finishing technique used and was successful in giving the foam the glossy effect as seen in the close-up of the surface in Figure 18. Overall, the joint compound was a sufficient base for the automotive paint finish, although it tended to absorb the paint in certain areas which resulted in a less glossy finish in some parts. We predict that using automotive grade putty such as Bondo would help to solve this problem. Figure 19 shows the final digitally fabricated design installed in the gallery space.
FIGURE 19. Final gallery installation.
CHAPTER V
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS
One might have a moment of hesitation in beginning a project like this as to whether or not it is a valid research endeavor. However, after the completion of this project I have come to the conclusion that it is precisely these kinds of research projects that are absolutely necessary undertakings in an area of design that is so far ungoverned by rules and industry standards. The relationship between design and production is in a period of transformation and flux, and it is up to projects like Malbec to help re-conceptualize this relationship, pushing the boundaries of what is possible. This project has demonstrated that our means of design conceptualization, and material realization are no longer fixed entities. Through an understanding of our available production tools and through material experimentation, these traditional roles can be expanded and innovation can occur. Although we were confined to a 3-axis machine with only 4 inches of milling height, we found a way around this problem to produce completely three-dimensional form, greatly exceeding the 4 inch limitation. Moreover, the material affects achieved through compounds and finishes gave the finished product the ability to completely remove itself from any original material recognition. Malbec achieves plasticity, and a liquid, dynamic materiality that makes the original poly-urethane foam unrecognizable.
It is my hope that this project that this project will help to generate interest and enthusiasm for digital fabrication at Texas A&M and that it will encourage more
students and professor to conduct research projects in this area. I believe that as students are beginning to have the opportunity to build at a 1 to 1 scale, the amount of knowledge gained from this experience will help to prepare them for work in the professional field. It is my hope that the documentation and analysis part will help to create a better understanding of where the possibilities lie in terms of the process. As of now, projects move in a linear fashion from software to hardware to finally analog, but I believe that this process can be challenged and better integrated to create a more collaborative exchange of information on all levels from design to production.
Limitations
This project is limited in terms of generality, since each fabrication is project-specific and most likely cannot be applied to a broad range of design problems. It does however maintain a higher degree of reliability especially because the documentation is compiled as step-by-step narrative. Anyone that follows these exact steps should be able to achieve the same results, therefore verifying that what I have provided is reliable. The availability of a CNC mill with a greater number of axes of rotation would allow for a much faster fabrication time and could have greatly simplified our assembly process, as well as cutting down on material waste. We believe that it was important to not allow the restrictions of the machine to limit the complexity of the design. Instead, we focused on finding innovative solutions that allowed us to deal with these limitations in a creative way and not sacrifice the integrity of the design. I believe that this was legitimate research project because “each new experiment and each new collaborative
pursuit will help broker change as projects move towards redefining techniques and methods of design conception and material realization.” (Kolarevic, Klinger, 2008).
Each new project is unique and will add to the collective body of knowledge concerning this relatively new and rapidly expanding field of design.
REFERENCES
CONTACT INFORMATION
Name: Ky Robin Coffman
Professional Address: c/o Gabriel Esquivel
Department of Architecture
Texas A&M University
College Station, TX 77843-3137
Email Address: kycoffman23@neo.tamu.edu
Education: B.E.D., Environmental Design, Texas A&M University, May 2010
Magna Cum Laude
Undergraduate Research Scholar |
Knowledge sharing behavior: the role of spatial design in buildings
Appel - Meulenbroek, H.A.J.A.; de Vries, B.; Weggeman, M.C.D.P.
Published in:
Environment and Behavior
DOI:
10.1177/0013916516673405
Published: 01/01/2017
Document Version
Accepted manuscript including changes made at the peer-review stage
Please check the document version of this publication:
• A submitted manuscript is the author's version of the article upon submission and before peer-review. There can be important differences between the submitted version and the official published version of record. People interested in the research are advised to contact the author for the final version of the publication, or visit the DOI to the publisher's website.
• The final author version and the galley proof are versions of the publication after peer review.
• The final published version features the final layout of the paper including the volume, issue and page numbers.
Link to publication
Citation for published version (APA):
General rights
Copyright and moral rights for the publications made accessible in the public portal are retained by the authors and/or other copyright owners and it is a condition of accessing publications that users recognise and abide by the legal requirements associated with these rights.
• Users may download and print one copy of any publication from the public portal for the purpose of private study or research.
• You may not further distribute the material or use it for any profit-making activity or commercial gain
• You may freely distribute the URL identifying the publication in the public portal?
Take down policy
If you believe that this document breaches copyright please contact us providing details, and we will remove access to the work immediately and investigate your claim.
Download date: 02. Dec. 2018
Knowledge Sharing Behavior: The Role of Spatial Design in Buildings
Rianne Appel-Meulenbroek¹, Bauke de Vries¹, and Mathieu Weggeman¹
Abstract
Knowledge sharing during unplanned face-to-face meetings between employees is indispensable for innovation-based organizations. Spatial design of office buildings has been proven to influence the number of meetings dyads have at work, but research on the behavior during such meetings remains scarce. This article analyzes how several spatial variables relate to employee behavior during such meetings (joint activities, location, intentionality, and issues addressed). A 1-week diary of 138 employees from one research organization provided data on 918 knowledge-sharing meetings. Analysis of the building layout showed that behavior is particularly different at a very local level within the building. Chi-square tests showed that inter-visibility and proximity are most strongly associated with where knowledge was shared, while sharing a room and overhearing related significantly to how knowledge was shared.
Keywords
knowledge sharing, distances, employees, office design, behavior
¹Eindhoven University of Technology, The Netherlands
Corresponding Author:
Rianne Appel-Meulenbroek, Chair of Real Estate Management & Development, Eindhoven University of Technology, P.O. Box 513, VRT 8.30, 5600 MB Eindhoven, The Netherlands.
Email: h.a.j.a.appel@tue.nl
When innovation is a high priority, organizations should stimulate brief informal interactions between employees (Heerwagen, Kampschroer, Powell, & Loftness, 2004). Wang and Wang (2012) showed that knowledge-sharing practices facilitate both innovation and firm performance. The knowledge shared during such interactions thus advances the innovation process (Allen & Henn, 2007; Nenonen, 2005). Corporate real estate (CRE) managers can play an important role in stimulating interactions between employees and thus supporting organizational innovation (Toker & Gray, 2008; Wineman, Kabo, & Davis, 2009). The same is true for the planners, designers, and office building managers who provide services to them. But to be able to do so, all these need to know exactly how the building and its workspaces relate to behavior that supports innovation like knowledge sharing (KS).
Spatial design has been shown to affect interactions between employees (Coradi, Heinzen, & Boutellier, 2015; Kabo, Hwang, Levenstein, & Owen-Smith, 2015). But innovation and knowledge management studies have typically measured aspects of spatial design with the distance between buildings on a campus or whether employees work in the same building (e.g., Kahn, 1996; Song, Berends, Van der Bij, & Weggeman, 2007). Work environment academics have measured spatial design in much more detail, but not often within the context of KS. Only recently, the relationship between spatial design and KS has gained more interest and in both fields more detailed studies have been published (e.g., Coradi et al., 2015; Kabo et al., 2015; Wineman, Hwang, Kabo, Owen-Smith, & Davis, 2014). Such studies have shown, for example, that visibility leads to more cross-functional interactions (Coradi et al., 2015) and shorter walking distances to more joint funding applications (Kabo et al., 2015). But this relationship needs to be studied further if we are to understand how to design workspaces inside a building to stimulate specific behavior.
So far, the focus remains largely on effects of spatial layout variables on frequency of interactions (e.g., Sailer & Penn, 2009; Spiliopoulou & Penn, 1999), but not on the content of these interactions. Such meetings could just as well be about how somebody likes his or her coffee. This is hardly proof that relevant knowledge was shared. Only a few studies have looked at relationships between spatial design and output variables that go beyond measuring mere frequency of interactions, like collaboration, different types of interactions, or awareness of others (e.g., Covi, Olson, & Rocco, 1998; Hua et al., 2011; Peponis et al., 2007). However, often such studies are a literature review or ask employees how they perceived the support. It is necessary to measure more precisely if and how KS took place, between whom, and whether it was affected by specific quantifiable variables of their spatial relationship.
As Kabo et al. (2015) pointed out, the dyad is “the most elemental level of analysis for understanding networks based on information sharing, collaboration, or teamwork” (p. 58). They also mention that dyads have received very little attention with regard to the effect of how they are situated in space on their joint behavior. Existing studies of dyads have shown, for example, that walking distances of more than 24 to 30 m discourage chance meetings (Allen, 1977) and that overlap of the zone of the building that employees move through increases joint applications for grants by academics (Kabo et al., 2015). These studies use sophisticated techniques to measure the spatial relationship of a dyad in AutoCAD drawings. Although some studies have addressed the link from spatial relationships to KS outcomes, few if any have addressed the intermediate (to outcomes) links between spatial relationships and detailed KS behavior. Their spatial measures focus on meeting the other when moving around in the building, but neglect how the mutual position of workspaces creates awareness of the other during the rest of the day (e.g., seeing or overhearing the other from behind their desk) and how this might relate to how and where dyads are able to share knowledge.
The purpose of the present study was to clarify how several detailed local and more global layout metrics are related to more detailed behavior during meetings (intentionality, the activities performed together, location of the meeting, and issues addressed). Data about KS behavior were collected through interaction-diaries of 138 employees from one large research-based organization. Data on the spatial relationship were collected with spatial network analysis of layout drawings. The significance of the differences between dyads was tested with χ² tests.
In the next section, we review the literature on KS behavior and use it to formulate hypotheses and explore possible relationships between KS and spatial design aspects. Next, the “Method” section describes how the data were gathered and which statistical techniques were used to test the hypotheses. After describing the data, the results are discussed in light of the hypotheses, followed by a discussion and future research directions.
KS Behavior
The two main streams within epistemology diverge on how knowledge can be transferred during meetings. Objectivists often treat knowledge as an entity that can be codified and then transferred easily. The practice-based perspective, which emerged over the past decade (Berends, Garud, Debackere, & Weggeman, 2011), stresses the embeddedness of knowledge in human activity. Following Polanyi (1966), many academics distinguish between explicit knowledge (information) and tacit knowledge (derived from
experience and including beliefs and values; Nonaka & Takeuchi, 1995). The practice-based perspective supports that all knowledge is tacit to some extent. These knowledge components differ in how they affect innovation. Wang and Wang (2012) showed that explicit KS had more significant effects on innovation speed and tacit KS on innovation quality.
Tacit knowledge is shared best when supported by motions and gestures and thus through face-to-face meetings (Coradi et al., 2015). Studies often assume that the more meetings take place, the more knowledge is shared and thus KS output is primarily measured with the number of interactions (e.g., Toker & Gray, 2008). However, mere quantitative analysis of face-to-face meetings is insufficient as this does not take into consideration why and how knowledge is shared, or even if knowledge is shared at all. As Hua, Loftness, Heerwagen, and Powell (2011) stated, “For collaboration to succeed, rich interactions are important” (p. 808). To use the physical work environment to support KS behavior, more detailed behavioral measurements correlating to building design are required.
Berends (2003) examined the KS behavior of industrial researchers in detail (without relating this to the physical work environment) and identified five categories of KS moves during which knowledge is shared in a certain way:
- Giving descriptions (e.g., reporting about others or describing one’s own activities, knowledge, problems, findings, etc.);
- Performing actions (e.g., demonstrating, on the spot calculating, expressing observation);
- Asking questions;
- Making proposals (e.g., hypothesizing, suggesting solutions, warning, referring to literature);
- Evaluating (e.g., giving arguments, agreeing, rejecting, concluding).
These five categories of moves seem very suitable to use as metrics for underlying research. All are commonly used in daily activities and their definition should therefore be clear to all respondents. The specific moves can be used as operational definitions/examples for respondents. For more insight into what issues are addressed during meetings, it is also interesting to look at whether the knowledge shared concerned a shared or a single problem or perhaps was not problem oriented at all (Berends, 2005).
Besides the KS moves and issues addressed, the intentionality of a meeting is relevant too. The majority of KS meetings within organizations are spontaneous face-to-face encounters (Toker & Gray, 2008). Planned meetings are less likely to be a result of the physical work environment (Peponis...
et al., 2007; Toker & Gray, 2008) as are unscheduled conversations. Brown (2008) distinguished between “Intentional unscheduled visits” (the initiator of the conversation walked up to someone) and conversations “Initiated after coincidental visual contact” (partners happened to see each other and started talking).
To support unplanned meetings, it is also important to know where these take place inside the building. The “serendipitous communication model” coined by Peponis et al. (2007) suggests that spaces and facilities supplementary to a personal workspace (coffee machines, hallways, drop down seats, etc.) are particularly important for increasing KS among employees. Many modern office designers are firm believers in this model and create places for the specific purpose of stimulating these incidental chats. Even employees are convinced that the distance between their workspace and such places is more important for spatial support of their collaboration than individual workspace aspects (Hua et al., 2011). However, it remains unclear whether the use of these types of spaces actually influences KS behavior. Studies of buildings for researchers (e.g., Peponis et al., 2007; Serrato & Wineman, 1999) showed that talking between employees primarily takes place near the workspace, instead of in hallways. Boutellier, Ullman, Schreiber, and Nael (2008) even found that office employees rarely used soft sitting areas specifically intended for communication. Therefore, the “flow model” coined by Peponis et al. (2007) seems more relevant, as it argues that people who rely on intercommunication must be located near each other (also known as propinquity theory). In the current study, the flow model formed the basis for the hypotheses formulated in the next section.
Hypotheses for Placement of Dyads in a Building
Often, studies that try to measure the effect of the physical work environment on organizational outcomes use a pre-post questionnaire or observation study to look at relocations changing which dyads are co-located in the same building (e.g., Blakstad, Hatling, & Bygdås, 2009; Kahn & McDonough, 1997; Sailer, Budgen, Lonsdale, Turner, & Penn, 2007). Although such longitudinal studies are interesting, they are also very context sensitive. The same employees have a certain number of meetings before and after being collocated with different colleagues. Organizational changes that are made concurrent with any regrouping decision make it hard to show a relationship with the physical work environment on its own (Bell & Anderson, 1998; Coradi et al., 2015). Also, the layout is not always quantified in measurable items (e.g., Hoegl & Proserpio, 2004), so a total work environment is judged without understanding how the change in behavior of specific employees was influenced by their
workspaces. Through a content analysis of work environment literature, five different variables were identified to study the placement of dyads in a building in more detail and form hypotheses with regard to their KS behavior. These variables are collocation (sharing a room), inter-visibility, overhearing, proximity (walking distance <30 m), and having their workspaces on the same floor. As per Rashid et al. (2005), the first three represent a local level (co-presence), whereas the other two represent a global level (position in the building).
**Co-Presence**
A possible relationship between co-presence and KS can be viewed in the light of the theory of cognitive apprenticeship, developed by Collins, Brown, and Newman (1989), which is typical for the practice-based perspective. Studies of the brain have shown that collocated people imitate each other (Goleman & Boyatzis, 2008), which is an important part of organizational learning (Covi et al., 1998). So, sharing a (project) room can be beneficial for collaboration (Blakstad et al., 2009; Heerwagen et al., 2004). It might make it easier to ask questions, perform actions together, and go through the repetitive team actions of evaluation and making suggestions. This brings us to the following hypothesis:
**Hypothesis 1 (H1):** Dyads sharing a room (collocation) show different KS behavior than the other dyads.
People who can see each other at their workstations, can collaborate, share tasks and ideas more easily, and provide assistance (Jassawalla & Sashittal, 1998). They are more aware of other people’s need for help (Nonaka & Konno, 1998; Sailer et al., 2007). This awareness might increase KS activities such as making suggestions, expressing observations, or referring to relevant knowledge sources. More visual contact also contributes to fewer distractions, by changing the timing of communication (Becker & Sims, 2001). These studies suggest that inter-visibility might change the behavior of a dyad.
**Hypothesis 2 (H2):** Dyads that can see each other’s workspaces (inter-visibility) show different KS behavior than the other dyads.
Open workspaces enhance face-to-face interaction through both seeing and overhearing (Rashid, Kampschroer, Wineman, & Zimring, 2006; Sailer et al., 2007). With the current large open office concepts, sharing a room or
seeing the other’s workspace does not necessarily mean that dyads are also within hearing distance. So this may be another relevant measure.
**Hypothesis 3 (H3):** Dyads sitting within hearing distance (overhearing) show different KS behavior than the other dyads.
**Position in the Building**
Not every employee can be within inter-visibility and hearing distance of all other employees in an organization. But as others (Allen, 1977; Wineman et al., 2009) have shown, people working in different rooms but within proximity of each other still meet more often than people whose rooms are further apart. Dyads with a lower walking distance might interact more, if they bump into each other when moving around in the vicinity of their workspace (going to a printer, restroom, etc.). During these chance encounters, KS activities such as giving descriptions and reporting about others could take place. The “forced” meetings that take place break down boundaries and force people from different communities to understand each other better (Ward & Holtham, 2000). Kahn and McDonough (1997) also found higher levels of achieving goals together and a shared vision as positive results. These studies suggest that walking distance might change the behavior of a dyad.
**Hypothesis 4 (H4):** Dyads with a lower walking distance between their workspaces (proximity) show different KS behavior than the other dyads.
People working on different floors of the same building meet less frequently than those working on the same floor (Spiliopoulou & Penn, 1999). But Spiliopoulou and Penn also state that this effect is a lot smaller than the effect of working in close vicinity versus at larger distance on the same floor. The effect becomes even smaller when the floors are bigger (Grajewski, 1992). Allen and Henn (2007) showed that beyond one’s own floor, the interaction declines dramatically and is almost equal to interaction with people from other buildings or locations. Only a strong functional relationship makes people interact between floors.
**Hypothesis 5 (H5):** Dyads with a workspace on the same floor show different KS behavior than the other dyads.
Now that the hypotheses are clear, it is important to examine how to quantify space in such a way that statistical testing is possible.
Method
To test the hypotheses in this study, detailed spatial data are necessary on employee dyads within a building and on their behavior.
Participants
The study site is one of the world’s leading providers of document management and printing for professionals. One building was chosen because the research and development employees of this organization in the Netherlands work there. It has two floors (Figure 1) with both large and small rooms, ranging from single-person rooms to open areas with up to 29 workspaces. Small lab areas without daylight were concentrated around the corridors, and a few large lab areas with less specific climate conditions were located in areas similar to the offices. This building accommodated 269 employees at that time. The 138 research and development employees (51% of the building population) who agreed to keep the diary during 1 week made 9,453 potential dyads for KS meetings. Ninety-six percent of the sample was male, aged between 19 and 60 years ($M = 41$, $SD = 10$) and was representative of the parent organization. They were spread out regularly over the entire building and the rooms. They also represented at least one third of each department in the organization and of each project that the organization was working on at that time. The online appendix to this article provides the number of employees working in the rooms that had participants. In 12, rooms there were fewer than 10 workspaces and in nine rooms there were 12 or more workspaces. Each of the managers had an enclosed workspace or room, but only one of the
Figure 1. Case building layout ground and first floor (Appel-Meulenbroek, 2010).
managers participated. Therefore most single-person rooms were not included in the study, and only 28% of the participants worked in rooms with fewer than 10 workspaces.
**Measures: Spatial Data**
It is relatively easy to gather spatial data for H1 (collocation), H2 (inter-visibility), and H5 (same floor). H3 (overhearing) and H4 (proximity) deal with distances that need to be measured between each dyad. This is a laborious process when not automated, as over a hundred employees creates the possibility for thousands of possible different dyads for which these distances need to be gathered. In the past decade, spatial network analysis techniques (some of which are called space syntax) have been applied to many different spatial urban environments and types of buildings to measure distances (and other quantitative characteristics of buildings). The distance “as the crow flies” can be used as an approximation in large settings (e.g., cities), but is unsuitable to study smaller spatial systems like a building (Sailer & McCulloh, 2012). Therefore, many building studies have quantified the office layout in a topological way to approximate distance (e.g., Peponis et al., 2007; Rashid et al., 2006; Toker & Gray, 2008; Wineman & Adhya, 2007; Wineman et al., 2009). But although Kabo et al. (2015) found that in office buildings the walking distance is highly correlated with the topological “turn distance,” it seems more accurate in a building with a mixture of large open areas and cellular offices to more closely approximate the actual walking distance. Therefore, following Hua, Loftness, Kraut, and Powell (2010), the distances in this article were computed using “graph metric” geometry, “which is the shortest distance between two points along an orthogonal path that passes inside the shape (floor plate)” (Hua et al., 2010, p. 433). Compared with the taxicab distance and “as the crow flies” distance, this is said to be closest to approximating circulation routes in buildings (Hua et al., 2010; Shpuza, 2006).
Such visual graph analysis (VGA) is based on isovists, which are defined by Benedikt (1979) as “the set of all points visible from a given vantage point in space and with respect to an environment” (p. 47). Isovists have been shown to capture how people experience their environment (e.g., spaciousness, complexity; Franz & Wiener, 2008). Turner, Doxa, O’Sullivan, and Penn (2001) used isovists placed on a regular grid, to derive a visibility graph, which they defined as a “graph of mutually visible locations in a spatial layout” (Turner et al., 2001, p. 104). Each grid point is called a node and if it is connected to another node a line (also called edge) can be drawn between those two nodes. Just as isovists describe single observation points, visibility
graphs describe the layout of the floor as a whole from the viewpoint of exposure (Franz, Von der Heyde, & Bülthoff, 2005). Many measures of visibility graphs have been used, but for this article we only used the graph to move through the layout like people are able to do in reality (so avoiding walls and other structural obstacles). Each node can be seen as a potential place for a person. Because all nodes that can see each other (and thus one can walk from this node straight to the other) are connected by lines when the visual graph is created, the VGA grid can then be used to approximate metric walking distances. This is a close approximation of the actual metric distance because it measures the distance between the center of the grid squares, but will move around obstacles in the drawing.
A valid distance for overhearing was necessary to test H3. Generally, the speech transmission index (STI) developed by Houtgast and Steeneken at TNO Netherlands (Steeneken, 1998) is used to measure hearing distance. The STI estimates the intelligibility of sounds. It varies between 0 and 1, and has to be 0.6 or higher for good or excellent sound intelligibility (Steeneken, 1998). The “paradox of verbal communication” in research buildings is that while on one hand privacy is needed for concentration, on the other hand, speech intelligibility helps collaboration. Most acoustics studies focus on speech privacy, while for this study the opposite is more relevant. Studies focusing on intelligibility mostly look at warning sounds (e.g., fire alarm). Besides distance between sound and receiver, other relevant aspects to determine intelligibility differ per office and conversation, like the background noise, speech level, and room acoustics (Wenmaekers, Van Hout, Hak, & Van Luxemburg, 2009). So, a specific optimal distance is not available. But studies of the optimal distance to achieve an STI of at least 0.6 (Keränen, Virjonen, & Hongisto, 2008; Wenmaekers et al., 2009) have identified a value for hearing distance between 5 and 10 m. Within this range, dyads can probably overhear each other when sitting at their workspace. The actual split for this variable within this range was therefore determined based on the data. For H4, the dyads were split into two groups at 30 m. This choice was based on findings from early and recent literature indicating this distance as a cutoff point for higher chances of meeting (e.g., Allen, 1977; Allen & Fustfeld, 1975; Sailer & Penn, 2009).
**Measures: Behavioral Data**
Many different methods exist to gather data on KS behavior. Studies on work environments generally study employees in their natural settings as they need to adjust to their surroundings before any influence becomes visible. As Tan (2003) demonstrated, a diary outperforms a questionnaire in the validity of
the data it provides on trips and activities undertaken. It cuts the time lag between the event happening and being recorded (Bolger, Davis, & Rafaeli, 2003). As many unplanned KS meetings are short, they are easily forgotten when filling in a questionnaire at some point of the day. Logging meetings in a diary throughout the day should capture more of these meetings. In addition, a diary can ask specific questions on each specific meeting. In this study, a diary was kept for a whole work week to capture the different types of meetings that might occur on different days of the week (like start-up meetings on Monday mornings). To minimize behavioral changes (Hawthorne effect), it was explained during the personal recruitment of participants and distribution of the diaries that the study focused on improving the building layout and not the behavior itself. We also explained that results would be kept confidential and individual behavior would not be reported to management.
Greenberg et al. (2005) stated three additional problems with diaries that should be considered, namely, memory (when is it completed), authorship (who filled it out), and mortality (how long a respondent was diligent). The diary created for this study was a printed booklet that was positioned on the desks of the participants, so that its visibility would prompt them to fill in their meetings during the day and not at the end of the day. To further deal with memory issues, the first author walked around in the building during the week that the diaries were kept, as a reminder to fill out the diary. It was regularly observed that participants were writing in their diary, reducing possible authorship problems. As participation was optional and the respondents were researchers themselves, it seemed very unlikely that they would delegate diary entry to someone else. From Tuesday through Thursday, we see no signs of data mortality as there is no decline in the number of meetings in the logbooks (see Table 2 in the online appendix). The percentage of participants that was present at work each day appeared to explain the higher number of meetings on Monday. However, the relatively low number of meetings on Friday compared with Tuesday might be due to mortality.
The first page of the diary asked for days present at work, name, and where the workspace is located. The rest of the diary contained identical pages to fill in data on two meetings per page. Only unplanned face-to-face meetings in which work-related issues came up had to be logged. For each meeting, respondents logged date, start time, duration, and conversation partners. This information was used to see if employees who met both filled in the same conversations. This made it possible to complete the database in the event where someone forgot to fill in a meeting while their counterpart did. Next, the diary asked for the KS behavior variables to test the hypotheses. To expedite time and effort, all questions were in the form of multiple choice. The initial questions regarded the five types of KS behavior, termed moves by
Berends (2003) as discussed earlier (descriptions, actions, questions, proposals, evaluations). Reference was made to the last page of the logbook that contained the specific moves of each category as examples to further clarify the meaning of each possible answer category. Next, the location within the building had to be entered where the meeting took place (whose workspace, which meeting area or project room, at a coffee machine, or in the hallway). Participants also had to fill in intentionality (choosing between intentional unscheduled visit and initiated after coincidental visual contact) and issues addressed (shared problem, problem of the respondent, problem of the other, or not problem oriented). To identify whether meetings were intentional or initiated on the spot, the diary also asked who initiated the meeting (the respondent or the other) as only the initiator knows whether the meeting was an intentional visit or not. Unplanned meetings with more than two people do not take place very often, but in these cases, the meeting was added to the total for each possible dyad among the participants in that meeting.
Procedure
In a pilot, the diary was tested for 1 week in a university building with 40 university employees, located on the same floor of one building, representing 59% of the population of this floor. In this week, they logged 251 unique meetings. Responses of the meeting participants on whether each KS move took place corresponded for at least 68% of the meetings. This suggested that the terms were clear enough for use in the diary, but that participants did not always agree about which activities they performed. It was decided to include the logbooks of both participants in the analyses if this would also be visible in the data from the study site. As the number of activities that participants disagreed on significantly correlated with the duration of the meeting, $r(232) = .328$, it was likely that part of the deviation between answers was due to memory issues when the meeting lasted longer. Because the activities were common words and we gave examples in the back of diary, it seemed more likely that this activity also took place and that one of them forgot to tick it, than that they disagreed on the meaning of the words used to describe the activity. Another, more general, check was done by comparing the duration of meetings in both diaries of each dyad in the pilot. The difference between the duration filled in was a mere 5 min or less for 89% of the meetings. This suggested that duration interpretation is something that people could do adequately. The test subjects all indicated that they had no major problems filling in the diary. Therefore, based on the results of the pilot, the diary format was not changed for the actual study site.
As the final data set again showed that approximately 40% of the meeting partners did not fully agree on the KS activities that took place, it was decided to indeed include the logbooks of both participants in the analyses. This doubled the number of cases in the database. In case meeting partners agreed, both lines in the database are identical, but if they did not, the lines contained their individual opinion on the meeting. To check for the influence of age (12 participants did not want to disclose their age), we examined the correlation with the different logbook variables. The only significant correlations that we observed were that older employees used fewer descriptions, \( r(126) = -0.275 \), and proposals, \( r(126) = -0.250 \), initiated fewer meetings after visual contact, \( r(126) = -0.244 \), and had fewer meetings that were not problem oriented, \( r(126) = -0.227 \). As all these correlations were low, age was not considered for further analyses. With the lack of variance in gender, this was not tested further. Although Criscuolo, Salter, and Ter Wal (2010) already showed that short distances in the office are not highly correlated with organizational proximity, we checked for our study data as well. The spatial location of the dyads was significantly correlated with the organizational structure (being on the same team, different team in the same department, different department), but the correlations were low. The highest correlations were seen for the dyads from the same team, which positively correlated with inter-visibility, \( r(9,453) = 0.229 \), and negatively with being located on different floors, \( r(9,453) = -0.224 \). Therefore, organizational structure was also not considered to be an important confounder.
At the initial phase of the larger research project that this study was part of, the software program Depthmap (Version 7.12) developed by Turner (2001) was chosen to derive spatial data from the AutoCAD drawings because it could generate multiple and diverse measurements that were needed for the different phases of the entire research project. In the latest phase of the project (the current article looking at dyads), the use of Depthmap was maintained because it was able to generate the necessary graph metric distances as well (although this is not the core goal of this space syntax–based software program). To generate the graph metric distances between each dyad, the building layout was covered with a dense grid of 0.50 × 0.50 m to obtain an accurate approximation of circulation routes. The distance of 0.50 m was justified by Franz and Wiener (2008), as it is between the average human step length (0.6 m) and body width (0.45 m). Each square was assigned a reference number, which was used to identify the workspace of participating employees during the analyses. The floors were connected in Depthmap at the three staircases at each end and in the middle of the building, to be able to calculate walking distances between floors as well. Depthmap cannot deal
Table 1. Correlation Between Layout Variables.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Spearman’s rho correlation</th>
<th>Collocated ( n = 9,453 )</th>
<th>Inter-visibility ( n = 9,453 )</th>
<th>Overhearing ( n = 570 )</th>
<th>Proximity ( n = 8,883 )</th>
<th>Same floor ( n = 9,453 )</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Collocated</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>.953**</td>
<td></td>
<td>.242**</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Inter-visibility</td>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
<td>- .259**</td>
<td>.230**</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Overhearing</td>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
<td>- .368**</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Proximity</td>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>- .368**</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Same floor</td>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
**Correlation is significant at the .01 level, two-tailed.
with the inter-floor distance (which was 2.70 m), so the distance crossed while changing floors is ignored (like being in an elevator).
Turner et al. (2001) distinguished between a visibility and permeability graph (= visibility graph at floor level, to include furniture and other obstacles). In Depthmap, each layer within the AutoCad drawing can be turned on/off prior to running an analysis. To study overhearing, a visibility graph was used to calculate “metric straight line distance” within rooms. For proximity, a permeability graph was used to calculate the “metric shortest path distance,” so moving around obstacles in the layout. As Depthmap does not work with dyads, an individual analysis was done for each person, generating his or her distances to each colleague in the building separately. This involves selecting the grid square of a person’s workspace in the layout in Depthmap and then letting the program generate the distance to each other grid square inside the building layout. From this individual distances table, the distances to grid squares that represented workspaces of colleagues were copied into SPSS for each dyad that this employee could form with other participants. This was repeated for each participant until the distances between all possible dyads were obtained for the KS behavior analyses. Probes of actual walking distances in the AutoCAD drawings showed that the obtained graph metric distances were accurate approximations.
Spearman’s correlation was used to check correlation between the spatial variables (Table 1) because the distance variables did not have a normal distribution. All variables showed significant correlations with each other, but not all were strong. In this case, collocation and inter-visibility had a very high correlation, \( r(9,453) = .953 \). Therefore, H2 on seeing each other’s workspace (inter-visibility) was tested only for the dyads sharing a room, as for them it did not correlate much with overhearing, \( r(570) = -.259 \), and thus was still an interesting additional variable. Overhearing is only relevant within a room, so this was also tested only for these 570 dyads. Overhearing and
proximity for collocated dyads were highly correlated, $r(570) = .998$, because there are very few partitions that one has to walk around. Therefore, the hypothesis on proximity was only tested for dyads not sharing a room ($N = 8,883$), thus removing correlation with the co-presence measures and reducing issues of spatial auto-correlation. As can be expected, proximity also correlated with working on the same floor or not, $r(8,883) = -.368$, and sharing a room, $r(8,883) = .242$. However, the correlations were small enough to still test H1, H4, and H5 with these specific variables.
As the spatial variables are dichotomous and the behavioral variables contain multiple response categories, the hypotheses were tested with $\chi^2$ tests. To compare the relative effect size of the different spatial variables, this is calculated with Cramer’s $V$ statistic. Applying Cohen’s rule of thumb to indicate whether effect size is small (.10), medium (.30), or large (.50) is the most popular way to interpret effect size (Thompson, 2008).
For each dyad of participants, the number of KS meetings between them was counted to confirm the relationship between physical distance and the number of KS meetings, before testing the hypotheses on the behavior during these meetings. This sum included meetings as indicated by either one or both of the dyad partners, but duplicates were removed. Table 2 shows a clear trend of a decrease in meetings with an increase in distance for dyads that did share knowledge that week. This trend was also visible when creating this table for all dyads, with the mean number of meetings dropping to zero when dyads worked on different floors. So the data follow the results of previous studies. As frequency of meetings was not the aim of this article, this trend was not analyzed further.
### Results
Obviously, not all dyads share a room (6%). Of the collocated dyads in this case, 91% could see each other (inter-visibility). The straight line distance
### Table 2. Number of KS Meetings Versus Distance (for Dyads With >0 KS Meetings).
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Distance Description</th>
<th>$M$</th>
<th>Minimum</th>
<th>Maximum</th>
<th>SD</th>
<th>Total N</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Within hearing distance</td>
<td>4.0</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>17</td>
<td>3.6</td>
<td>154</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Inter-visibility</td>
<td>3.6</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>17</td>
<td>3.3</td>
<td>214</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Collocated, not visible</td>
<td>2.8</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>6</td>
<td>1.8</td>
<td>8</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Same floor, different rooms</td>
<td>1.9</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>12</td>
<td>1.6</td>
<td>136</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Different floors</td>
<td>1.1</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>0.4</td>
<td>14</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
*Note. KS = knowledge sharing.*
between all the dyads in the same room is visible in Figure 2. To form two groups that can be compared in a similar way as the other dichotomous variables, the hearing distance was cut off at the median. As this was 7 m, this seemed a valid split between overhearing and not, considering the STI discussed before. The walking distance between dyads in the building varied from 1.1 m up to 148 m ($M = 61, SD = 0.29$; Figure 3), with 11% of the dyads within proximity (30 m). The dichotomous measure “being on the same floor” was about evenly distributed (48% of the dyads worked on the same floor and 52% did not).
During 73% of the meetings, only one KS activity took place. Often knowledge was shared by asking and answering questions (56%), while the other four KS activities only took place during approximately 20% of the meetings. Especially in the event that more than one activity occurred during a meeting, a proposal was often combined with questions (true of 43% of the proposals). But also, the other three activities were often combined with questions during a meeting: 36% of the actions, 32% of the descriptions, and 26% of the evaluations. So although questions can be the only KS activity during a meeting, they are also used often in combination with other KS activities.
**Figure 2.** Straight line distances between dyads sharing a room.
On average, participants spent 45 min of their day involved in unplanned meetings (with a minimum of 1 min/day and a maximum of 6 hr + 38 min/day). Most KS took place during very short meetings of less than 15 min and 78% of the meetings took place at a workspace. Looking at the intentionality, 72% of the meetings took place because somebody intentionally walked over to meet the other person, or they had their workspaces so close that they could talk with each other from behind their desks. Often meetings regarded a shared problem (45%), but there were also not problem-oriented meetings (11%), so this is not a requisite for sharing knowledge.
As there were 855 meetings with two participants, 55 meetings with three participants, and eight meetings with four participants, the final data set contained \((855 \times 2 + 55 \times 3 + 8 \times 4 =) 1,907\) cases. The behavior during the meetings showed several significant differences between dyads based on their spatial relationships (see Table 3 for frequencies of observed behavior). The way knowledge was shared differed significantly between collocated dyads and dyads from separate rooms although the effect size was small, \(\chi^2(4, N = 2,578) = 11.12, p = .03\), Cramer’s \(V = .07\). Dyads from different rooms were more likely to use questions and used fewer proposals/evaluations.
Figure 3. Walking distances between dyads.
People from different rooms also shared knowledge relatively more often in the hallway, at the coffee machine, and in project areas than collocated dyads, $\chi^2(4, N = 1,902) = 27.58, p < .001$, Cramer’s $V = .12$. Collocated dyads also shared knowledge about shared problems relatively more often, while dyads from different rooms more often shared knowledge to help the other one with their problem, $\chi^2(2, N = 1,899) = 64.61, p < .001$, Cramer’s $V = .17$; Figure 4. Overall, H1 (“Dyads sharing a room [collocation], show different KS behavior than the other dyads”) was confirmed, although the significant relationships had small effect sizes (considering the low Cramer’s $V$ values).
The inter-visibility inside the room showed few differences in behavior. Although dyads sharing a room but not sitting within sight shared relatively more often at the coffee machine, $\chi^2(4, N = 1,412) = 80.84, p < .001$, Cramer’s $V = .24$, three cells had an expected value lower than 5. This is caused by the
small number of dyads that were unable to see each other and the general tendency to have most meetings at the workspace. So H2 ("Dyads that can see each other’s workspaces [inter-visibility] show different KS behavior than the other dyads") was rejected.
For dyads that could hear one another (sitting within 7 m), not all differences in behavior were significant. However, dyads sharing a room, but sitting outside hearing distance asked significantly more questions and gave relatively fewer descriptions although the effect size was small, $\chi^2(4, N = 2,578) = 29.84, p < .001$, Cramer’s $V = .11$; Figure 5. Also, dyads outside hearing distance more often shared knowledge at the coffee machine, $\chi^2(4, N = 1,412) = 17.07, p = .002$, Cramer’s $V = .11$. The tests on hearing distance for differences in intentionality or issues addressed (whose problem it was) were not significant. H3 ("Dyads sitting within hearing distance [overhearing] show different KS behavior than the other dyads") was accepted based on the significant differences for KS activities and locations, but the effect size again was not very strong.
The position in the building also revealed some differences in behavior, especially with regard to the location of KS meetings. Dyads not sharing a room, but sitting within proximity (30 m), shared significantly more knowledge at the workspace, with a medium effect size, $\chi^2(4, N = 490) = 41.50, p < .001$, Cramer’s $V = .29$. Dyads at longer walking distances shared knowledge
---
**Figure 4.** Differences in issues addressed in terms of occupying the same room or not.
relatively more often in project rooms/laboratories and hallways and less at the workspace (Figure 6). Also, the intentionality of meetings was significantly different, $\chi^2(1, N = 485) = 11.87, p < .001$, Cramer’s $V = .16$. Calculating the odds ratio showed that dyads within proximity were two times more likely to have intentional unscheduled visits than those at distances over 30 m. So H4 (“Dyads with a lower walking distance between their workspaces [proximity] show different KS behavior than the other dyads”) was accepted.
Given that only 16 KS meetings took place between dyads not working on the same floor, this created too many cells with values lower than 5 thus rendering $\chi^2$ tests unreliable. The tests of issues addressed and intentionality showed small, but significant relationships. Dyads from different floors shared less knowledge on shared problems, $\chi^2(2, N = 1,899) = 6.28, p = .043$, Cramer’s $V = .06$, and their KS was less intentional, $\chi^2(1, N = 1,891) = 6.35, p = .013$, Cramer’s $V = .06$. Nonetheless H5 (“Dyads with a workspace on the same floor show different KS behavior than the other dyads”) was rejected, because of the small effect sizes and the very small number of meetings between dyads from different floors.
Discussion and Conclusion
The aim of this study was determining the relevance of very local layout metrics with respect to their impacts on specific behaviors during KS meetings. The data gathered about KS behavior from diaries of 138 employees and their spatial relationship with each participating colleague showed that the behavior is particularly different at this very local level within the building. Dyads sharing a room (H1) and particularly the ones with the ability to overhear each other (H3) shared knowledge through different KS activities, confirming both these hypotheses. The close proximity appears to be related to an awareness of each other, which prompted people to give descriptions if this seemed helpful, and to propose solutions and evaluations together. Dyads at greater distances apart had to ask questions on things that might otherwise have been made clear by overhearing/awareness. Berends (2003), who distinguished the five different ways of sharing knowledge used in this study, showed that making proposals and evaluating in particular lead to creation of new knowledge, while the other activities are mainly used to transfer existing
Figure 6. Differences in KS locations in terms of walking distance.
Note. KS = knowledge sharing.
knowledge. As new knowledge is vital for creativity and innovation (Nonaka, Toyama, & Konno, 2000), these findings should stimulate innovative organizations to more carefully consider which employees to assign adjacent workspaces in larger rooms. One could think of specific project members that need to be more aware of each other during certain project phases or employees from different departments who have not worked together well enough in the past. Also, the increasing number of organizations with flexible seating in the office will have to consider whether they should develop some kind of workplace-use-policy to stimulate certain employees to collocate.
These findings add to previous studies, that measuring co-presence simply through sharing an open space/room (for dyads) or the number of colleagues in your room (for individuals) does not catch the entire mechanism of layout design. Although collocation matters and could be measured by simply counting the number of people in a room, overhearing further defines behavior and further increases the mean frequency of KS meetings (Table 2). Therefore, by looking specifically at the behavior of dyads, this study provided a closer look at creating awareness of each other in buildings. These new findings partly counter the tendency for organizations nowadays to create larger open areas with many workspaces to increase KS based on existing studies. They imply that especially the dyads in close collocation (overhearing in addition to mere inter-visibility at a larger distance) could have created previous findings of increased KS in large open areas. As overhearing fades outside 5 to 10 m, open areas beyond 8 to 10 workspaces might not meet expectations of increased KS sufficiently. They could possible even create an opposite effect through excessive awareness of others, leading up to concentration loss.
Adding a certain limit of effective room sizes to existing theory is further supported by the finding that the relative number of coincidental meetings versus intentional visits to share knowledge was not significantly different for dyads sharing a room as for dyads from separate rooms, $\chi^2(2, N = 1,891) = 0.54, p = .25$. Thus, existing theory that people collocated in the same room probably share more knowledge because they bump into each other coincidentally more often is also not supported. Collocated employees just as often intentionally look for a specific roommate with whom to share knowledge and did not benefit from increased coincidental encounters. This finding suggests that although interaction frequency has been shown to increase when people are roommates (Markhede & Koch, 2007; Sailer et al., 2007), this increase might only relate to not-work-related talks. In light of the known downfalls of open layouts distracting employees through noise, such an increase might not be so desirable as assumed in such studies. Also, in practice, open layouts are popular to increase communication, where decreased
concentration is seen as a “collateral damage” that is mitigated by providing concentration rooms. Without knowing whether the rise in communication actually increases organizational (innovation) outcome, the decision to design such open work environments might be taken too lightly sometimes.
For those dyads that cannot share a room, proximity (<30 m walking distance) was still associated with differences in behavior, which confirmed existing research as expected. The more detailed measurement of behavior showed that dyads in this group might not differ in the KS activities that they used, but they did more often intentionally walk over to each other. It would be interesting to know if the existing need for KS of dyads at larger distances at that time was fulfilled otherwise (via email/phone call) or left unfulfilled. But even then, the sharing of tacit knowledge would have been harder as this is best when supported by motions and gestures in face-to-face meetings (Coradi et al., 2015). As sharing tacit knowledge specifically increases innovation quality (Wang & Wang, 2012), this decreased intentionality of visits could hurt the innovation process. Organizations could try to promote walking over to colleagues at larger distances, to spread tacit knowledge further into the building.
Details on the locations where knowledge was shared showed that in general the collocated dyads used meeting areas for unplanned meetings. This suggests that they moved to a meeting area if the workspace was too disturbing or unsuitable for the unplanned meeting. But although meeting areas thus appear to support dyads when they want to have a meeting, it remains unclear how a possible effect can be optimized by design of these places. The other locations (hallways, coffee machines) were mainly used to share knowledge by dyads whose workspaces were at larger distances. But in general there were very few work-related meetings at these locations, so this might contribute little to the innovation process.
H2 (inter-visibility) and H5 (same floor) were rejected, as the specific behavior of the participants made it impossible to perform proper statistical tests (e.g., little variation in a variable). The effect sizes of the three accepted hypotheses varied from .06 to .29, which are at best considered to be moderately strong. However, other quantitative studies on correlations of spatial layout with frequency of communication have also found low values (e.g., Toker & Gray, 2008, with $r$-values between .30 and .54; Wineman & Adhya, 2007, with $r$-values between .12 and .17). The correlations of these types of analyses cannot be expected to be as high as one finds in positivistic experiments trying to explain the exact effect of one metric on another. As Kabo et al. (2015) put it, “Spatial effects are probabilistic and contingent rather than deterministic and universal” (p. 59). Spatial design is a supportive resource and it cannot be expected to be responsible on its own for a high
variance in KS behavior. But the significant differences have shown that CRE managers and the planners, designers, and others who work with them can support and improve the primary process of their client organization, which is after all their main task. A recent study (Gibler & Lindholm, 2012) showed that until now, CRE managers trying to align with corporate innovation strategies are focusing more on technology support than on workspace design. The findings here provide them with broader possibilities to make a difference. The spatial variables can be taken up in the instructions, and later used to compare alternatives, using the actual layout drawings from an architect. As Sailer et al. (2007) stated, this detailed knowledge may provide architects the opportunity to design solutions that better match with the clients’ needs, and provides CRE managers with solid and comprehensible evidence to back up their budget discussions with general management. This is true not only at the beginning of the design phase for new buildings but also during later postoccupancy evaluations that might lead to new interventions. The findings could also help office building managers in attracting and retaining tenants, by providing them with a more supportive office to rent when they do not want to own their real estate.
**Limitations and Recommendations**
A limitation of this study is that it was performed with only the research and development personnel of one production-focused organization. It needs to be repeated in more similar types of organizations to find out if the results are generalizable or perhaps industry-specific, and with other types of employees to find out if behavior during cross-functional KS meetings is similar. As service organizations also need to innovate (Adegoke, 2007), further research is needed to find out whether their employees show similar behavior and thus would need a similar or different spatial environment.
Further research on inter-visibility and its relationship with KS behavior is necessary, especially as open layouts are increasingly popular in both offices and research buildings. As Hua et al. (2011) showed, a vast open floor plan with high visibility does not necessarily increase the perception of support for collaboration among the employees themselves. Although open offices increase the frequency of interactions, the effect of visibility on more detailed KS behaviors remains unclear. Besides that, more research is necessary on the disadvantages of open layouts for organizational innovation. As Berends et al. (2011) stated, unrestrained KS can create cognitive overload for individuals. For innovation to take place, effective collaboration needs both KS and the possibility to focus (Heerwagen et al., 2004; Hua et al., 2011). Coradi et al. (2015) showed that workspace design became more important as an
enabler when individuals required more balance between both activities. Koch and Steen (2012) added the need to distinguish the effect of interruptions on focused work on long and short questions. The activity/tasks might determine which spatial variables are best suited to improve support of KS behavior. And also the stage of these activities within the research and development process could require different spatial solutions (Coradi et al., 2015). Besides the tasks and ability to focus, innovation also needs individual-level creativity. Creative thought processes are influenced by the physical environment as well (Dul & Ceylan, 2006; Martens, 2011; Van de Sande, 2012). More holistic as well as more detailed research on this would provide additional knowledge on KS behavior in spatial settings.
The size of the shared rooms was not taken up in the analyses, but H3 on overhearing showed that distance in a room does relate to actual KS behavior. As most of the participants were located in larger open areas, the findings are valid for large open areas but do not provide much insight yet in KS behavior in very small rooms. This needs further research. Other methods of measuring behavior (e.g., observation, activity tracking) could provide even more detail on KS behavior. With regard to measuring space, this study was just one of the few attempts to more accurately capture the spatial relationship between dyads. Researchers are currently constructing and testing many new spatial variables (like zone overlap; see Kabo et al., 2015) and other relevant influences (like water coolers as attractors; see Sailer, 2007). Further research comparing and testing such spatial variables in different building typologies will have to demonstrate which variables better predict collaborative behavior. When such variables are not so complicated as to be applicable to practice, they would provide CRE managers with a powerful tool to add strategic value for their clients and the end users of the buildings they manage.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Note
1. See, for example, results of an early phase (Appel-Meulenbroek, 2010), where space syntax–related isovist measures (e.g., compactness, occlusivity) were correlated with individual behavior.
References
Coradi, A., Heinzen, M., & Boutellier, R. (2015). A longitudinal study of workspace design for knowledge exploration and exploitation in the research and develop-
Koch, D., & Steen, J. (2012). Decomposing programmes: Re-coding hospital work with spatially syntactic information. In M. Greene, J. Reyes, & A. Castro (Eds.), *8th space syntax symposium* (pp. 8145:1-20). Santiago de Chile, Chile: PUC.
Serrato, M., & Wineman, J. (1999). In F. Holanda (Ed.), *2nd space syntax symposium* (pp. 11.1-11.8). Brasilia, Brazil: University of Brasilia.
Van de, & Sande, L. (2012). Creativity and place: Does where you are impact on how or what you think? *Work & Place, 1*, 14-17.
**Author Biographies**
**Rianne Appel-Meulenbroek** is an assistant professor in corporate real estate management and workplace. Her research focuses on the way building design can support an organization through productivity of employees, innovation, knowledge sharing, and so forth and how this is best managed.
**Bauke de Vries** is a professor in design systems. His group focuses on simulation of human behavior in the built environment, multi-agent systems for design and planning, and geo-data and building information modeling (BIM) for the support of collaborative design.
**Mathieu Weggeman** is a professor of organization science. His primary expertise lies in the field of organizational design, innovation management, and work processes in knowledge-intensive organizations. |
The nineteenth century witnessed a series of revolutions in the production and circulation of images. From lithographs and engraved reproductions of paintings to daguerreotypes, stereoscopic views, and mass-produced sculptures, works of visual art became available in a wider range of media than ever before. But the circulation and reproduction of artworks also raised new questions about the legal rights of painters, sculptors, engravers, photographers, architects, collectors, publishers, and subjects of representation (such as sisters in paintings or photographs). Copyright and patent laws tussled with informal cultural norms and business strategies as individuals and groups attempted to exert some degree of control over these visual creations.
With contributions by art historians, legal scholars, historians of publishing, and specialists of painting, photography, sculpture, and graphic arts, this rich collection of essays explores the relationship between intellectual property laws and the cultural, economic, and technological factors that transformed the pictorial landscape during the nineteenth century.
This book will be valuable reading for historians of art and visual culture; legal scholars who work on the history of copyright and patent law; and literary scholars and historians who work in the field of book history. It will also resonate with anyone interested in current debates about the circulation and control of images in our digital age.
This is the author-approved edition of this Open Access title. As with all OpenBook publications, this entire book is available to read for free on the publisher's website. Printed and digital editions, together with supplementary digital material, can also be found at http://www.openbookpublishers.com.
Cover design by Anna Gà...
The nineteenth century witnessed a series of revolutions in the production, circulation, and reproduction of images. Thanks to changes in printing and imaging technology and shifts in the practices of artists, publishers, and photographers, images became more readily available, in a wider range of media than ever before. Working in the new field of lithography, artists produced portraits, landscapes, caricatures, and depictions of events done ‘on the spot’, which were distributed quickly and cheaply. The development of photography led to the circulation of radically new forms of images such as daguerreotypes, ambrotypes, tintypes, cartes-de-visite, and stereographs. The quest to reproduce paintings and photographs spurred numerous experiments with printing techniques and photomechanical processes; meanwhile, a ‘mechanical turn’ in sculpture led producers and artists to invent materials and practical machines for the mass production of their work. Engravings became a common feature in books, magazines, and newspapers, profoundly affecting the experience of reading.
1 The impact of industrialization on nineteenth-century sculpture remains an under-explored area in the history of art and visual culture. In England, new materials such as fired artificial stone — also known as ‘Coade Stone’ — were widely used in architecture and sculpture in the Georgian era. See Caroline Stanford, ‘Revisiting the Origins of Coade Stone’, The Georgian Group Journal, XXIV (2016), 95–114. For U.S.
The circulation of images across various formats and media, and the ways in which such circulation can transform the viewing experience, have generated considerable interest among specialists of art history and visual culture. But the role that intellectual property laws played in shaping the production and dissemination of visual works has received far less attention. The increasing ease with which images circulated often went hand-in-hand with a desire — on the part of artists, publishers, collectors, and others — to exert some form of control over that circulation. The title of this book, Circulation and Control, evokes this tension, which has often been at the heart of debates about the ownership, reproduction, and appropriation of creative works envisioned as a form of intellectual property. Although other areas of law have undeniably had an impact on the circulation of images (censorship and obscenity law immediately come to mind), the essays in this book are concerned with intellectual property (IP), a broad area of law whose most well-known branches are copyright, patent, and trademark.
---
visual arts, IP laws have often been looked to as a means of exerting some kind of control, such as by reserving the exclusive right to display or reproduce a work of art, or by licensing the right to use a particular technical process for making or duplicating visual works. Yet the history of such efforts has so far received relatively little scholarly attention, especially compared to the history of copyright for books and other printed texts.\(^4\)
With contributions by scholars in law, art history, the history of publishing, and specialists of painting, photography, sculpture, and graphic arts, this book considers the multifaceted relationships between IP laws, artistic practices, and business strategies that shaped the production and circulation of images in the United States, the United Kingdom, and one of its colonies (New Zealand) during the ‘long’ nineteenth century. Many of the essays in this volume explore contested rights to make and sell copies or reproductions of visual works, to reproduce their design in a new format or medium, or to make what are now called ‘derivative works’ (that is works directly inspired by a copyrighted work, such an illustration from a famous novel). In this respect, the area of IP law that is given the most attention in this volume is copyright. However, patent law is also considered by two of the essays, which explore how individuals and groups attempted to use patents to protect photographic processes and the designs of sculptures. Although art’s relationship to trademark law is not addressed here, recent work has explored how designers and firms looked to trademark law as a mechanism for controlling the reproduction of images, not least for advertising posters produced through the new medium of lithography.\(^5\)
\(^4\) There are some recent exceptions. See the section entitled ‘Existing Studies and New Lines of Inquiry’ later in this chapter.
Indeed, it should be mentioned at the outset that our volume makes no claim to exhaustively cover the full gamut of IP law during this formative period, nor does it adequately treat the immense range of creative productions that might be considered under the umbrella of art and visual culture. As research progresses, it may be possible to write a succinct history of IP legislation and case law as it affected various branches of the visual arts. The collaborative project that led to this volume has, however, a different aim: to bring together an interdisciplinary group of scholars from law and the humanities — as well as specialists of nineteenth-century art and visual culture based in museums and libraries — to produce a series of case studies that examine interactions between artistic practices, business strategies, and questions of IP as they emerged throughout the nineteenth century. A mix of disciplinary backgrounds and expertise enables us to better understand the interactions between law, culture, and industry, and to better appreciate the specific factors that made different conceptions of IP in visual works seem relevant (or not) to various artists, distributors, and collectors of artworks. In short, we endeavor to consider how artistic practices and legal norms shaped each other. In that respect, this book builds on an interdisciplinary approach to the history of IP that does not limit itself to changes in legislation and judicial interpretation, but also considers the development of cultural norms and business practices that individuals and groups used in an effort to exert some degree of control over the conditions of copying and reuse of creative works.
6 The topics and methodological approaches that are explored in the individual chapters, as well as gaps in coverage that readers may identify, result in part from the way the project proceeded. The editors of the present volume issued a call for papers in 2016 for a conference on the general theme of ‘Images, Copyright, and the Public Domain in the Long Nineteenth Century’, which was held at the Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library in the spring of 2018. In part because of restrictions related to funding and in part owing to our own institutional affiliations, we limited the geographic scope to the United States, the United Kingdom, and its colonies during the nineteenth century. We received many more proposals than we possibly could have accommodated, but did our best to include a mix of professional and disciplinary backgrounds among the contributors, and to cover a range of artistic fields. Some of the gaps that we identified at the first conference were filled by soliciting new contributions in advance of a second meeting, held in Paris in 2019, but certain areas remain under-represented.
7 Important touchstones in the development of this approach include The Construction of Authorship: Textual Appropriation in Law and Literature, ed. by Martha Woodmansee.
This introductory chapter will begin by offering an overview of some of the period’s major developments in artistic media and visual culture. It will then survey existing scholarship on the history of intellectual property by considering the small but growing literature on copyright for visual works in relation to the much larger historiography on copyright for printed texts. Finally, it will discuss the structure and main themes of the volume. Like the other contributors to this book, we have written with a broad audience in mind. While some readers may be more familiar with the legal scholarship than with the history of art and visual culture, others may be well-versed in the history of technology or the art market but not as familiar with legal concepts and sources. With such differences in mind, we have included a broad range of references in the notes.
New Visual Media and Artistic Practices
One of the defining features of the nineteenth century is how science, technology, and industry produced new visual media, transforming artistic processes of creation and conditions of viewing. Building on recent developments in chemistry, new media such as lithography and photography produced images that created new visual experiences of the world with representations ranging from the fine arts to the documentation of people, events, landscapes, and natural or scientific phenomena. Lithography (derived from the Greek for ‘writing on a stone’) was developed in Germany by a playwright, Alois Senefelder, at the end of the eighteenth century. A planographic printing process based on the principle that water and oil do not mix, lithography entailed the direct drawing of a design with a greasy medium on a limestone slab. Using the properties of gum arabic and acid to affix the image on the
---
Readers who are less familiar with the abbreviations used in citing legislation and court decisions may find it useful to consult the Cardiff Index to Legal Abbreviations, http://www.legalabbrevs.cardiff.ac.uk. Another excellent web resource for copyright history, which is cited by many of the chapters that follow, is Primary Sources on Copyright (1450–1900), ed. by Lionel Bently and Martin Kretschmer, http://www.copyrighthistory.org/cam/index.php.
stone, the lithographer then inked the stone and passed it through a flat-bed press, transferring the design to the paper.⁹
The design process in lithography, once mastered, was faster than intaglio engraving or etching, and produced an infinitely greater number of copies. These qualities made lithography an ideal medium for the dissemination of reproductions of artworks to an expanding consumer public, the topic explored in Erika Piola’s contribution to this volume. Additionally, the hand-drawn quality of a lithographic image was one of the technique’s defining characteristics. Allowing the direct transfer of a design from stone to sheet of paper, lithography created what was first conceived as a multiplicity of autographic originals. Artists produced a wide range of images, including portraits, landscapes, social and political caricatures, scenes of everyday life, and depictions of events, such as fires and steamboat accidents. Lithographs could be produced with a virtually infinite print run as long as the stone itself was properly maintained. It is this latter feature that positioned the medium at the forefront of the transformations taking place in the printing industry, and which contributed to the rise of mass visual culture. Making the quick and cheap publication of images possible, lithography could respond to the latest event or talk of the town and lead to a variety of unauthorized reproductions — a practice that seems to have been rampant in the United States.¹⁰
---
Chromolithography, an extension of the medium to color printing, was developed towards the end of the 1830s. It involved multiple stone drawings, each printed with one colored ink. In contrast to lithography, which found rich creative terrain both in the fine and commercial arts, chromolithography became the dominant medium of commercial printing, and served particularly well firms specializing in the production of advertisements, product labels, etc. Some firms, like L. Prang and Company in Boston, improved on the methods of chromolithography to produce high quality reproductions of paintings which imitated not only the colors of the original work but also its texture and the surface of the painter’s brush strokes. These reproductive prints became known as ‘chromos’. They were so perfect in their imitation of the original paintings that they not only sparked debates about the merits of art reproduction in artistic circles but also led to the singularization of ‘chromo’ as a specific category for copyright protection in the US Copyright Act of 1870.11
Photography, a means of producing an image based on the chemistry of silver, was developed through the application of recent discoveries in chemistry, combined with the use of materials that had long been part of artistic practice, such as the portable camera obscura, a light-tight box equipped with a lens that projects an image of the outside world onto its interior wall. The first commercially successful photographic process, the daguerreotype, produced a stable unique positive image on a silver-coated copper plate brought out by exposure to light in a camera obscura. In 1839, the daguerreotype was given free circulation by the French Government’s purchase of Louis-Jacques Mandé Daguerre’s process, leading to its popularity beyond national borders. Around the same time, William Henry Fox Talbot in England used sensitized paper for his photographic experiments. His technique, patented in 1841, created a negative that could be used to make multiple identical
positive prints. Talbot’s negative process made it possible to envision a photograph as a multiple rather than a single original. At the crossroads of art and science, photography transformed the status of an image as representation: its seemingly indexical relationship to the world brought about a new framework for the discourse on objectivity and truth in visual representation. But as Shannon Perich’s chapter in this book suggests, the history of photographic practices and materials was also shaped by patent claims and licensing deals. Unlike Talbot’s calotype, Daguerre’s process was widely publicized and its use unimpeded by patent claims. In the United States, various efforts by inventors and photographers to claim exclusive rights over new inventions or improvements on existing processes were part and parcel of the cultural and material history of photography in the nineteenth century.
In parallel with the development of lithography and photography, wood engraving generated an immense number of images produced through a combination of artistic talent, technological innovation, and mechanical operations. Thomas Bewick developed the wood-engraving technique in Britain at the end of the eighteenth century. In contrast to woodcuts, which used the plank of the wood and traditional wood-carving tools, Bewick used an engraver’s burin to carve the end grain of the wood, resulting in small but highly-detailed images. Wood-engraved blocks could be printed together with texts and became part and parcel of the industrialization of the publishing industry in the nineteenth century, driving the expansion of the illustrated press. With the development of stereotyping and electrotyping processes that duplicated a relief-printing matrix, the matrices of individual wood engravings could be reproduced on metal and sold to other publishers, creating a secondary market for images. Focusing on illustrated newspapers, Thomas Smits’s contribution to this volume explores the business opportunities and legal challenges involved in the transnational trade in wood engravings depicting current events.
While photography initially appeared ill-suited to the large-scale production of images, two crucial technical developments turned it into a medium that was well-adapted to the visual industry: the invention
---
of a transparent support for the photographic image, which enabled its transfer onto a sensitized printing matrix (woodblock, lithographic stone, or metal plate), and the development of a mass-produced sensitized paper. Photomechanical processes, or the production of a printing matrix with the help of a photographic image, were a major interest of the printing industry early on, finding applications in all areas of visual culture, from the illustrated press to fine art publishing. Photogravure, which involved the transfer of a photograph onto an intaglio plate, combined the fine tonal gradations of a photograph and the rich material qualities and stability of an intaglio print. Intaglio engravings were costly to produce and thus often used for the high-quality reproduction of a work of art. By contrast, wood engravings were relatively cheap to produce. The illustrated press started transferring photographs to wood blocks for engraving in the late 1850s, a process initially known as photoxylography. The transferred image was manually cut using the original sketch or photograph as a guide. Later, the relief line block process used a sensitized gelatin that hardened with light and required less manual intervention. Both processes preceded the half-tone by several decades and gave the image departments of illustrated magazines and newspapers many opportunities to appropriate and adapt existing photographs or wood engravings for their purposes. The artists who transferred the image to the block were free to alter its size and orientation, or to work from fragments of several images, which could be rearranged or combined into an entirely new composition.13
In the photographic studio, the development of prints on albumen paper, an improvement on Talbot’s salted paper negative, played a critical role in the rise of commercial photography, leading to the development of two characteristic products of the nineteenth century: the carte-de-visite and the stereoscopic view. Introduced in 1851 by
Louis-Désiré Blanquart-Evrard, albumen paper allowed for a much better reproduction of details, which was particularly well adapted to the collodion glass negative. Most importantly, albumen paper could be manufactured on an industrial scale. Albumen prints soon became the most widely-used means of producing a photographic print. Cartes-de-visite were typically full-length portraits printed on albumen paper and pasted onto a paper board the size of a visiting card. They became immensely popular. Portraits of celebrities in particular sold by the thousands to people of widely different backgrounds and means. They were often collected and stored together with family portraits in albums. Stereoscopic views, or stereographs, were pairs of photographs of the same subject taken with a two-lens camera. When viewed with a device that also included two lenses, eye-distance apart, a single image of startling depth appeared, creating a new virtual experience of the world. Stereographs, which are discussed in Will Slauter’s chapter, encouraged the viewer’s mental projection into the realm of representation, be it a tableau vivant, an exotic locale, a military encampment, or an international exhibition.¹⁴
Nineteenth-century technological developments not only led to the genesis of radically new (and often cheap) types of images. They also affected the production and consumption of older artistic media such as painting and sculpture, and accompanied new sorts of visual experiences that became more common and accessible: art exhibitions, fairs, performances, panoramas, lantern-slide shows, sightseeing and window shopping all became essential features of nineteenth-century cultural life. Public exhibitions of paintings, often shown together with drawings, lithographs, photographs, watercolors, and sculpture, took place at mechanics’ institutes, athenaeums, art-union galleries, local and international fairs, theaters, photographic studios, frame-makers and print-sellers’ shops, and other venues. Viewing a painting often went hand-in-hand with being offered a subscription to its intaglio engraving, reading about it and looking at its wood-engraving reproduction in an illustrated newspaper, or finding it in another medium at the print shop. Similarly, the experience of seeing a famous marble sculpture such as
¹⁴ There is a considerable body of literature on cartes-de-visite and stereographs. See Anne McCauley, Industrial Madness: Commercial Photography in Paris 1848–1871 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994); and the references in Chapter 5 of the current volume.
Hiram Powers’s *The Greek Slave* — further discussed in Karen Lemmey’s chapter — was often mediated by graphic reproductions, industrially produced replicas in plaster, or newly-developed ceramic processes like Parian ware.
This proliferation of art objects and reproductions was noted by writers, publishers, and artists — the latter often finding out about an unauthorized replica by seeing it for sale in a shop. Some commentators decried the danger of blurring the distinctions between an artist’s creative genius present in the original work and a soulless, mechanically-produced copy. Others applauded what they called the democratization of art enabled by reproductions, and the shift from an art world supported by elite patronage to one rooted in the marketplace. At the same time, as imaging and printing technologies expanded, so did the markets and networks for the distribution of their products. Although artists and publishers sometimes expressed concern about a lack of control over the uses and reuses of their works, they also benefited from the exponential growth in markets for visual works. This growth was supported by informal networks connecting dealers and publishers across national borders and oceans, and by European and American imperial expansion. Consequently, the visual arts and experiences that emerged out of nineteenth-century urban culture impacted and reached a more socially, ethnically, and racially diverse range of people than ever before. Yet as the markets for visual works grew across regional, national, and imperial boundaries, the ability of artists, owners of artworks, and subjects (such as sitters in paintings or photographs) to control the circulation of a given work and the commercial exploitation of it became more uncertain.
**Existing Studies and New Lines of Inquiry**
The history of intellectual property is a growing interdisciplinary field that attracts scholars from law, the humanities, and the social sciences. The history of copyright in particular has benefited from cross-disciplinary...
exchanges among legal scholars, literary historians, and specialists of the history of printing and publishing. Such cross-fertilization has had a lasting impact on how the history of copyright for books and other printed texts is understood, and provides an important source of inspiration for the current volume. Lyman Ray Patterson’s classic book Copyright in Historical Perspective (1968) drew upon research by bibliographers and historians of printing to chart the transition from the system of licensing and royal privileges in early modern England to the first copyright statues on both sides of the Atlantic in the eighteenth century. The literary scholars Martha Woodmansee and Mark Rose offered pioneering studies of the construction of authorship that connected debates about literary property to the commercial practices of the book trade in the eighteenth century. More direct collaboration between literary scholars, book historians, and law professors working in this area was promoted by the gatherings organized by Woodmansee and Peter Jaszi that led to their co-edited volume, The Construction of Authorship: Textual Appropriation in Law and Literature (1994). Major works by John Feather, Adrian Johns, William St Clair, and others offered historical studies of copyright and piracy that foregrounded the cultural norms, business strategies, and rivalries that determined which books were produced where, and how unauthorized (but not necessarily illegal) reprints affected access to culture and knowledge. Studying disputes over exclusive rights (such as copyright) has also revealed power struggles among communities over questions of appropriation, as well as important forms of cultural and political resistance, as Phillip Round’s work on Native American printing and book cultures has shown.
at https://www.ishtip.org, provide an indication of the range of work being undertaken in this field.
16 Lyman Ray Patterson, Copyright in Historical Perspective (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1968).
The slow and contentious process of establishing international copyright agreements during the nineteenth century, and the recurring problem of cross-border ‘piracy’ (the term was often used even in situations where the reprinting was not illegal) became an important topic of study for literary historians such as Melissa Homestead and Meredith L. McGill, as well as for legal scholars such as Catherine Seville and Robert Spoo. More generally, several generations of scholarship at the crossroads of book history and copyright history have revealed the value of studying the law in relation to the organizational structure of the book trade and shifts in the practices of writers, publishers, and readers. Such work has highlighted how, in many circumstances, copyright statutes and their judicial construction mattered less than the cultural norms and trade customs that individuals and groups established (or sought to establish) in an effort to regulate the production and circulation of texts. It is therefore necessary to study how law, culture, and business shaped one another, and to think of the history of IP as a history of norms and practices, rather than solely a history of legislative and judicial developments.
This book focuses on the visual arts in the nineteenth century, a topic which has not hitherto benefited from as much interdisciplinary inquiry into the relationships between IP, cultural norms, and business practices as has the realm of printed texts. But like writers, artists were concerned
with the relationship between their creative work and what preceded it; they were also interested in their work’s future prospects and their own posterity as creators. Painters, sculptors, graphic artists, and architects took steps to ensure that their work continued to live in various forms and media. In order to shape the circumstances in which their creations were made public, they collaborated with or disputed with their peers, art institutions, patrons who sat for portraits, collectors who owned their work, and printmakers and publishers who reproduced it. They worried about such questions as who had the right to display or copy their work, in what circumstances, and in what format, medium, or manner. They lobbied for new legislation or initiated lawsuits to defend what they believed to be their rights over the products of their creative labor. In these endeavors, creators did not always present a unified front. Additionally, their concerns often collided with those of other stakeholders — be it a competitor, the purchaser or commissioner of an artwork, or the sitter in a portrait — over questions of ownership in an object and its ‘design’, or the right to control reproductions of a person’s likeness.
The relative paucity of scholarship that examines legal questions raised by the copying and reproduction of artworks in relation to commercial and artistic practices is all the more surprising given the fundamental role that imitation, emulation, copying, originality, and influence have long played in artistic discourse and practice, as well as in the foundational texts of art history. Artists and writers have employed various concepts to characterize the subtle and complex relationships that connect a work of art to its antecedents. Mimesis, imitation, emulation, and copying are terms usually associated with the early modern period in Europe and the writings of Roger de Piles, Denis Diderot, and Johann Joachim Winckelmann. Originality, reproduction, influence, plagiar, appropriation, translation, citation, repetition, replication, and détournement are all terms associated with prolific modern and post-modern artistic discourse and practices located in the interconnected and global art world that resulted from European and North American colonial expansion in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.\(^\text{22}\) Originality, a notion that indexes the artist’s subjectivity
\(^{22}\) For a recent discussion of these concepts over various geographical areas and periods, see Georg Baselitz et al., ‘Notes from the Field: Appropriation: Back Then,
and authorship in the work of art, gained traction in European and North American artistic practices over the course of the nineteenth century, the period examined in this book. This concept tended to focus attention on an individual artist’s agency at the expense of the structure of the art world with its studios, institutions, and exhibition practices, its patronage system, and its expanding consumer market with links to the printing and publishing trades. Necessarily embedded in a dialectical relationship with its opposite — be it reproduction, copy, or replica — originality not only constituted itself in artist’s studios and literary and aesthetic discourse, but also in the way creators, patrons, and business partners negotiated and articulated their rights over visual representations. These aesthetic and commercial developments shaped discussions of copyright reform, leading to the notion of originality being incorporated into the language of copyright statutes. In the United Kingdom, for example, the Fine Arts Copyright Act of 1862 explicitly protected ‘original’ drawings, paintings, and photographs, affirming a statutory threshold of ‘originality’ that would necessarily lead to debates about what constituted an ‘original’ photograph, for example.
Although the role that artists, their patrons, and business partners played in shaping legal norms — and how such norms interacted with artistic creation during this period — have remained on the margins of art historical inquiries, this book builds upon a small but growing literature on the topic. In the contemporary art world, the seemingly boundless circulation of images that has accompanied the rise of new media in recent decades has led to new practices and critical inquiries centered on creative reuses and transformations. Interest in how
---
In Between, and Today’, The Art Bulletin, 94 (2012), 166–186. This series of short essays written by specialists of various fields foregrounds the fundamentally appropriative and transformative nature of artistic creation, and therefore the critical importance of specific approaches and conditions in which artists have utilized and positioned their own creative practice vis-à-vis what preceded them. Only one of the contributions in this series evokes the regulatory power of intellectual property law, and the way it signals connections between the aesthetics and politics of culture in today’s global art world.
Ronan Deazley, ‘Commentary on Fine Arts Copyright Act 1862’, in Primary Sources on Copyright, ed. by Bently and Kretschmer, http://www.copyrighthistory.org/cam/tools/request/showRecord?id=commentary_uk_1862. As Deazley notes, the 1814 Sculpture Copyright Act had contained the phrase ‘new and original’. On these questions, see also the more recent work by Elena Cooper cited later in this chapter.
copyright law affects artists’ practices and legacies was one of the motivations for a 2002 volume edited by Daniel McClean, a specialist of art and cultural property law, and Karsten Schubert, a contemporary art dealer and publisher. Titled *Dear Images: Art, Copyright, and Culture*, the volume also included two chapters on the nineteenth-century UK, as well as a historiographic essay by Kathy Bowrey that began with the following observation: ‘The history of copyright has overwhelmingly been concerned with literature and not art’. Since that time, a number of important articles and book chapters have appeared, by both legal scholars and historians of art and photography, treating various aspects of the history of copyright for engravings, maps, and photographs. Some of these studies were related to an AHRC-funded web resource launched in 2008 entitled *Primary Sources on Copyright (1450–1900)*. This indispensable open-access site features primary sources (including statutes, proposed bills, reported court opinions, and polemical literature such as pamphlets) from several countries, as well as scholarly commentaries that situate the documents in their historical contexts. Members of the editorial team of *Primary Sources on Copyright*, along with other scholars in law and the humanities, also produced *Privilege*
and Property: Essays in the History of Copyright (2010), a wide-ranging set of essays covering several countries and time periods. Though most of the essays focus on printed texts, three of them do explore copyright in relation to the visual arts. Moreover, the general approach of that volume — which studies copyright law in relation to social norms, cultural developments, and business practices — was an important inspiration for this book.
Another milestone was reached in 2018, when two major book-length studies of the history of copyright for art appeared: one, by the art historian Katie Scott, focuses on early modern France, and reveals the interplay between art theory, royal institutions, the economy of the print trade, and notions of IP in the visual arts. The other, by the legal scholar
---
27 Privilege and Property, ed. by Deazley, Kretschmer, and Bently, https://www.openbookpublishers.com/product/26. The essays by Ronan Deazley, Frédéric Rideau, and Katie Scott discuss selected aspects of the history of artistic copyright. Since then, other important collections on the history of copyright have appeared, including Copyright and Piracy: An Interdisciplinary Critique, ed. by Lionel Bently, Jennifer Davis, and Jane C. Ginsburg (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), https://doi.org/10.1017/cbo9780511761577, which includes essays by Daniel McLean and Jonathan Griffiths on copyright’s relationship to the contemporary art market; and Research Handbook on the History of Copyright Law, ed. by Isabella Alexander and H. Tomás Gómez-Arostegui (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 2016), https://doi.org/10.4337/9781783472406, which includes an important essay by Elena Cooper, ‘How Art was Different: Researching the History of Artistic Copyright’ (pp. 158–173).
28 As the editors of the volume state in the introduction: “Copyright law” needs to be understood as having been only one mechanism for the articulation of proprietary relationships: other legal norms (personal property, contract, bailment), and, more interestingly, other social norms, allowed for systems of ascription and control, flows of money, as well as the transfer and sharing of ideas and expression. Copyright history is not just another branch of positive law’. Martin Kretschmer, with Lionel Bently and Ronan Deazley, ‘The History of Copyright History: Notes from an Emerging Discipline’, in Privilege and Property, ed. by Deazley, Kretschmer and Bently, pp. 1–20 (p. 6).
Elena Cooper (who is also a contributor to the present volume), covers the United Kingdom from the mid-nineteenth century through the early twentieth century. Scott’s study shows that the complex system of royal and corporate privileges that developed in France between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries was grounded in conceptions of artists’ rights and obligations as formulated in art theory, at the academy, and in artists’ studios. Evolving notions of imitation, emulation, and invention are crucial to this history. Importantly, Scott shows that the notion of intellectual property that emerged in the entanglement of privilege, artistic discourse, and commercial practice in France became so closely tied to the identity of the artist that this property could not be easily alienated with the sale of the artwork. Scott’s book reveals the eighteenth-century roots of a fundamental question that works of art raised as artists envisioned the status of their work as property: whether the intellectual property in the work of art was independent of the possession of the material work itself. This question also preoccupied artists in Britain and North America during the period; Marie-Stéphanie Delamaire’s chapter in the present volume highlights how it motivated Gilbert Stuart’s attempts to control the reproduction of his iconic portrait of George Washington in the United States.
Like Scott, Cooper also situates the development of legislation and case law in relation to cultural, aesthetic, and commercial trends. Her account of the lobbying that ultimately led to the 1862 Fine Arts Copyright Act in the United Kingdom — and the debates about copyright reform that continued for several decades after 1862 — highlights the different and sometimes conflicting interests of individuals and groups representing various fields of artistic endeavor. Sculptors, painters, engravers, print sellers, and photographers often had different ideas about what copyright should protect, and these ideas reflected economic interests and institutional connections, as well as the aesthetic and political ideals that these groups sought to promote.
Smart Museum of Art, the University of Chicago, 2005). It is important to note, however, that the notion of a ‘reproductive print’ itself is a modern concept, coined by Franz Wickhoff in 1899, and denotes a late nineteenth-century development. Franz Wickhoff, ‘Beiträge zur Geschichte der Reproducirenden Künste: Macantons Eintritt in den Kreis Römischer Künstler’, Jahrbuch der kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses, 20 (1899), 181–194.
30 Elena Cooper, Art and Modern Copyright: The Contested Image (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), https://doi.org/10.1017/9781316840993.
Cooper shows that in order to understand the convoluted path that copyright for visual works took in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, it is crucial to examine the complex and evolving relationships among the different groups that made up the art world, including the role of art patrons and collectors (whose interests were not always aligned with those of artists), public galleries (which sought to broaden public access to art), and publishers, whose arrangements with artists and disputes with rivals fundamentally shaped the debates, litigation, and legislative lobbying that took place during the period. Cooper and Marta Iljadica, in their jointly-authored contribution to this volume, extend this line of analysis by reconstructing the different interests of architects, painters, photographers, and the public, revealing how and why architects failed to achieve the sort of copyright protection they sought. Cooper’s monograph, building on articles and chapters by legal scholars such as Lionel Bently and Ronan Deazley and art historians such as Anne McCauley, has helped to elucidate the development of copyright law for artistic works in nineteenth-century Britain. The present volume includes several new essays on Britain and one of its colonies, New Zealand. These chapters explore aspects that have received less attention, such as protection for architecture and illustrations of the news, as well as the experiences of women and indigenous people as creators or subjects of protected works.
In the case of the United States, the other main country under consideration here, the existing literature on art and intellectual property is far more limited. Major studies, such as Oren Bracha’s book on the history of IP in the United States, have acknowledged some of the challenges faced by those who sought protection for artistic works under a copyright regime built around notions of literary authorship and the commercial practices of the book trade. Recently, Robert Brauneis has taken a closer look at the legislative history of the 1870 Copyright Act, which extended protection to drawings, paintings, and sculpture (photography was protected under a separate statute passed in 1865). As Brauneis shows, it was not inevitable that works of fine art would simply be assimilated into the existing framework of copyright
31 Cooper, Art and Modern Copyright; and Cooper, ‘How Art was Different’.
32 Bracha, Owning Ideas, pp. 88–93, 120–123.
33 Brauneis, ‘Understanding Copyright’s First Encounter with the Fine Arts’.
law; among the proposals for artistic copyright in the years leading up to the 1870 act, some would have recognized the specific concerns of artists by introducing different rules and procedures than those already existing for printed texts.
Much of the existing scholarship on the history of copyright for artistic works has been produced by legal scholars, who have considered the relationship between literary and artistic copyright and the extent to which the visual arts challenged existing legal frameworks and thereby influenced the overall history of copyright. As Cooper put it, ‘Contests over nineteenth-century images, in presenting the law with new questions and different changing technological, commercial, and aesthetic contexts, resulted in powerful, varied and rich debates about the concept or “image” of copyright’.34 The notion that visual works were different from texts, and that distinct genres of art should be subject to specific copyright rules, was expressed on numerous occasions during the nineteenth century.35 The world of art raised new questions and pushed policy debates in unforeseen directions. In particular, the relationships among artists working in different media, with different aesthetic ideals and institutional affiliations, and the different business models that they developed, led to different sorts of legal and commercial arrangements to those that existed for literary works. The development of IP norms for visual works was therefore related to, but also sometimes in tension with, the history of copyright for printed texts.
In the world of books, the exclusive right to print and sell a particular work had long been seen by publishers as a means of protecting their investments in producing and distributing the book. The business was based on selling multiple printed copies of the author’s work. The economics of image circulation were often quite different, and business strategies evolved in important ways during the period under consideration in this volume. First, the rise of mass visual culture led to a profound transformation of print culture as the acquisition and publication of images became an increasingly important part of book and periodical publishing. Rose Roberto’s chapter on illustrated reference books, Thomas Smits’s chapter on illustrated newspapers,
34 Cooper, Art and Modern Copyright, p. 249.
35 See Cooper, ‘How Art Was Different’; and Brauneis, ‘Understanding Copyright’s First Encounter with the Fine Arts’.
1. Law, Culture, and Industry
and Oren Bracha’s chapter on the textual and visual iterations of the bestselling novel *Ben-Hur* explore, each in their own way, the shifting relationships among printed texts, visual culture, and copyright law. Second, the relationship between a work of art’s value and its publication was also changing during the nineteenth century as a result of far-reaching transformations that affected the national and international art market and the expansion of art’s consumer base to various groups whose interests did not necessarily coincide.\(^{36}\) One of the major changes that affected the art market was the growing importance of a group of buyers and collectors who came from a new social class: an increasingly rich and powerful middle class that supplanted traditional patronage (royalty, aristocracy, and state commissions) and brought with them a new speculative outlook on art buying and collecting.\(^{37}\)
Cooper’s study of the British context that led to the 1862 Fine Arts Copyright Act elucidates how some of these concerns affected the relationships among the different groups that constituted the British
\(^{36}\) The commodification of the fine arts has long been seen as a fundamental shift happening in Europe and the United States during the middle decades of the nineteenth century, a shift theorized by influential writers in the last century. Walter Benjamin, in his *Arcade Project*, not only brought to the fore the new conditions of art production but also elaborated on the new accessibility of the visual arts to the masses, and what he saw as the consequent loss of ‘aura’ in the original work of art. Recent studies by art historians interested in mass visual culture and business practices have refined our understanding of this paradigmatic shift and its impact on artistic value. See Michael Leja, ‘Fortified Images for the Masses’, *Art Journal*, 70 (2011), 60–83, https://doi.org/10.1080/00043249.2011.10791072; and Michael Leja, ‘Mass Art’, in *Encyclopedia of Aesthetics*, ed. by Michael Kelly, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), https://doi.org/10.1093/acref/9780199747108.001.0001.
art world, and informed debates over intellectual property in the UK at that time.\textsuperscript{38} Tensions between elite viewers and the masses were equally important to court cases brought against alleged copyright infringers during the period. The chapters by Simon Stern and Will Slauter in this volume hint at some of the tensions between social classes and aesthetic hierarchies in reproductive media, and at how these tensions played out in copyright disputes in the UK. Indeed, the technical transformations that affected the work of art in reproduction not only made a work of art more accessible to the masses; they also affected the work’s status and the value associated with an original.\textsuperscript{39}
Authorship in original artworks and reproductions was a layered concept. A painting often existed in more than one copy — each version differing from the other in size and small iconographic details. Additionally, paintings and sculptures (and their reproductions) often entailed the intervention of more than one hand, as can be seen in Karen
\textsuperscript{38} Cooper, \textit{Art and Modern Copyright}.
Lemmey’s contribution to this book. Even though we tend to look at an engraving after a painting as a derivative image that is not fundamentally different from a photographic reproduction, its status and place in the visual economy of the nineteenth century was entirely distinct. Prints that we call ‘reproductive’ today were then considered translations of the original painting, and the creative role of the interpreter was acknowledged in the collaborative authorship at play in its production. In addition, the fundamental notions of emulation, invention, and imitation that had dominated artistic theory and practices since the seventeenth century lost traction over the course of the nineteenth century. This was a very slow process, in which the industrialized manufacture of art reproductions only gradually shifted attention to the dichotomy between originality and creation, on the one hand, and copy and reproduction on the other. During most of the period covered by this book, numerous artistic practices of repetition and collaboration co-existed, and involved a range of practitioners whose livelihood depended on the production and sales of images based on other works of art. Their actions raised new questions about the boundaries between acceptable appropriation and illegitimate copying. Slauter’s chapter in this volume highlights such a case of questionable appropriation, and in the process shows how the producer of a tableau vivant stereoscopic view after a painting envisioned his own artistic creation during an important transition period in the history of photography and its relation to the other visual arts.
Another important change was the transnational expansion of major art dealers and publishers, who did not always adopt the trade practices and legal frameworks of the countries in which they operated, and thus introduced new norms and contractual arrangements based on their own understandings of what constituted ‘property’ in a visual work. The international and colonial dimensions of copyright for artistic works remains to be studied in more detail, though some of the chapters in this book do contribute to this area of inquiry. Thomas Smits’s chapter explores the international trade in illustrations of the news, and the difficulties faced by those who sought to use existing copyright laws to claim exclusive rights over images first published in a foreign periodical; Jill Haley discusses photographic copyright law and commercial practices in colonial New Zealand; Rose Roberto studies a transatlantic
partnership between major publishers of illustrated reference works. Marie-Stéphanie Delamaire examines both the transatlantic context in which Gilbert Stuart worked and the international origins of the unauthorized reproductions of his portraits; these were created in China and shipped to the United States, where they would have competed directly with Stuart’s own originals. It is nevertheless clear that the international dimensions of IP norms and practices deserve further study. Works circulated across national borders. Bilateral and multilateral copyright agreements (most famously the Berne Convention from 1886 onward) represented attempts to create effective international protection, but there has been very little study of how the various treaties (and the national laws passed in accordance with those treaties) actually affected the production and circulation of visual works. The shared customs and business arrangements that creators and distributors of art works attempted to use to control the cross-border copying and reuse of visual works also merits further study.
As several of the chapters in this book reveal, the different uses to which photography was put over time threatened to upset existing relationships and business models. The history of copyright for photography in the United States has received a fair amount of attention, but most of the existing scholarship crystallizes around an 1884 Supreme Court decision involving an unauthorized reproduction (via lithography) of a photograph of Oscar Wilde by Napoleon Sarony. The earlier period, just before and after the passing of the 1865 Copyright Act Amendment (which extended copyright to photographs in the United States), has recently begun to attract some attention. Even within
41 Zvi Rosen has recently located a draft copyright bill dated 1864, which differs in interesting ways from the law that was ultimately passed in 1865. Zvi Rosen, ‘The Forgotten Origins of Copyright for Photographs’, Mostly IP History (blog), 10
the realm of photography, there is significant space for future work on how notions of IP were shaped by the practices of photographers, and several of the contributors to this volume offer new insights in this area. Shannon Perich, for example, explores a series of attempts to use patent laws to license photographic processes in nineteenth-century America, uncovering the strategies of the individuals involved and the extent to which their actions succeeded or failed. The collective efforts of photographers to have their rights recognized, and to receive payment and credit for their work, is examined in Katherine Mintie’s chapter on American photographers’ struggles against newspaper publishers at the end of the nineteenth century.
The question of IP in other fields of visual culture, such as painting, sculpture, architecture, and the graphic arts, has received far less attention than photography, and this book seeks to help correct that imbalance. The essay by Delamaire, for example, studies how the painter Gilbert Stuart responded to unauthorized reproductions of one of his famous portraits of George Washington to explore emerging concepts of artistic property in the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries. In the realm of sculpture, Karen Lemmey details how several American artists sought to use design patents to protect and monetize their work, though not always successfully. Elena Cooper and Marta Iljadica focus on copyright for architecture, situating efforts by British architects to secure protection for their buildings in relation to the claims of painters and other artists to freely portray the urban landscape. And with respect to prints and lithographs in nineteenth-century America, Erika Piola highlights the crucial role of lithographic publishers and other intermediaries such as frame makers and art associations.
Structure and Common Themes
In order to draw attention to certain shared themes and preoccupations, the book is divided into three parts. The first part, titled ‘Who Owns What?’, spans the period from 1735 (when the first statute extending copyright protection to engravings was passed in Britain) through the early twentieth century. The five chapters in this part proceed in roughly chronological order, but alternate between developments in the British Isles and in the United States to explore some of the ways that visual works challenged established frameworks of copyright law. Isabella Alexander and Cristina S. Martinez examine a court case brought under the first British statute designed to protect visual works, the Engravings Act of 1735. The litigation introduced important questions that continued to be debated during the nineteenth century: what kinds of works were eligible for protection? Who could qualify as the owner of the copyright? How would courts interpret terms such as ‘invention’ and ‘design’ in determining a work’s eligibility for copyright and the scope of protection? The case discussed by Alexander and Martinez was brought by a woman, Elizabeth Blackwell, in an effort to protect botanical illustrations after nature, and thus provides an opportunity to study the complex relationships between gender, creativity, scientific knowledge, and copyright law.
The case studies featured in Part 1 center on individual creators and entrepreneurs working in specific media and genres, who acted as plaintiffs or defendants in litigation aimed at upholding exclusive rights over a particular work. The arguments of the parties, the published judicial opinions, and the outcomes of the cases are analyzed not only for their contribution to copyright doctrine, but also for what these disputes reveal about contemporary artistic and commercial practices. Focusing on such disputes uncovers what individual artists and entrepreneurs thought should be protected by copyright law and why. Litigation was the exception rather than the rule, since most parties sought to avoid the expense and trouble of going to court. It should not be assumed that the positions taken by the parties represent universally-held values within a given field; indeed, sometimes individuals went to court in an effort to impose new rules or to obtain legal clarification of principles that were disputed at the time. But by forcing the parties to articulate
their claims, such disputes often brought to the surface routine business practices and cultural norms that might not otherwise be made explicit if the parties had not felt strongly enough to proceed with litigation and continue all the way to a judgment. Many disputes were settled out of court, and therefore left fewer traces in the historical record.
Disputes over partial and trans-media copying are given particular attention in Part 1, since they raised the fraught question of what constituted a copy. To take an example from Simon Stern’s chapter, did a panorama based on the design of a famous painting or engraving count as an infringing copy, given that the public paid to view the panorama but did not actually purchase any tangible ‘copy’ of it? In the case analyzed by Oren Bracha, could the copyright owner of a bestselling novel stop others from producing a magic lantern show that illustrated scenes from the novel? The case studies in the first section span almost two centuries, and much of their value lies in how they contextualize the disputes. But taken together, they also confirm a general trend of expansion in terms of the rights of copyright owners — from literal, verbatim copying of texts to the right to control ‘derivative’ works — such as the magic-lantern slide show of Ben-Hur at the heart of the dispute in Bracha’s chapter. However, this history is neither smooth nor linear, since each new combination of technology, artistic practice, and business strategy provided an occasion to test the limits of the law, lobby for new forms of protection, or ignore the law in favor of other shared norms or commercial arrangements.
Whereas Part 1 focuses on specific disputes, many of which resulted in court rulings, Part 2, titled ‘Agents of Circulation’, draws attention to different individuals and groups involved in the production, distribution, and reuse of images. In some cases, commercial arrangements and rivalries sparked discussions of IP or attempts to obtain legal protection of some kind. Some of these entrepreneurs, such as the publishers of illustrated newspapers examined by Thomas Smits, went to court in an effort to enforce exclusive rights against rivals in their field, only to find that existing laws were poorly suited to their needs. Others, such as the major publishers of reference books that feature in Rose Roberto’s chapter, created international business partnerships in an attempt to forestall piracy and exploit the market on both sides of the Atlantic. The makers and distributors of lithographic prints discussed in Erika
Piola’s chapter did not make systematic use of copyright (some of the works were registered for copyright while others were not); the art unions seem to have been more likely to have recourse to copyright, but this isn’t the heart of the story, since what mattered was unions’ role in making reproductions of artworks available to a broad audience through a membership subscription system.
The chapters in Part 3, ‘Navigating Intellectual Property’, further explore the interplay of law, artistic practice, and business strategy by highlighting how individuals and groups dealt with questions of exclusivity, authorial credit, and control over their works. Some lobbied for new legislation, either independently or as part of professional associations, as can be seen in the chapter on architects and painters by Elena Cooper and Marta Iljadica, and in Katherine Mintie’s chapter on photographers and newspaper publishers. Other artists tried to take advantage of existing laws, as the essays by Karen Lemmey and Shannon Perich on two different types of patents (design patents as applied to sculpture and utility patents as applied to photographic processes) reveal. Others went to court to test a new law, as in Jill Haley’s study of an early photographic copyright suit in New Zealand; here the litigation exposed interesting questions about the rights of photographic subjects and the emergence of a celebrity culture surrounding the indigenous Māori people.
Further research is needed on the interactions between artistic practices, IP laws, and the commercialization of artworks, not only in the countries covered here, but in other parts of the world and the connections among them. Our approach was not to commission a series of essays on designated topics by known specialists to be as comprehensive as possible. Rather, we organized two international conferences in 2018 and 2019 in an effort to identify emerging research in this area and to encourage individual scholars to develop essays based on their own expertise. Given this process, the shape of the volume reflects a number of common concerns that emerged from our discussions, while simultaneously offering a range of individual perspectives and examples that we hope will inspire further research in this exciting field.
Bibliography
Bently, Lionel, and Martin Kretschmer, eds., *Primary Sources on Copyright (1450–1900)*, http://www.copyrighthistory.org/.
Cooper, Elena, Art and Modern Copyright: The Contested Image (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), https://doi.org/10.1017/9781316840993.
——, ‘Commentary on Fine Arts Copyright Act 1862’ in Primary Sources on Copyright (1450–1900), ed. by Lionel Bently and Martin Kretschmer, http://www.copyrighthistory.org/cam/tools/request/showRecord?id=commentary_uk_1862.
Newhoff, David, Who Invented Oscar Wilde? The Photograph at the Center of Modern American Copyright (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2020).
Rose, Mark, Authors and Owners: The Invention of Copyright (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993).
——, Authors in Court: Scenes from the Theater of Copyright (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2016).
Zorach, Rebecca, and Elizabeth Rodini, eds., *Paper Museums: The Reproductive Print in Europe 1500–1800* (Chicago: The David and Alfred Smart Museum of Art, the University of Chicago, 2005). |
Idea Generation Techniques among Creative Professionals
Scarlett R. Herring
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
herring1@illinois.edu
Brett R. Jones
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
brjones@illinois.edu
Brian P. Bailey
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
bpbailey@illinois.edu
Abstract
The creative process has been a key topic of research over the past century, but it wasn’t until the last decade that creativity became a hot topic of research in the HCI. It is an important commodity to businesses and individuals alike, spawning numerous research studies in business, psychology and design. However, it wasn’t until recently that researchers became interested in developing technologies to support creative behavior. This article outlines the role of creativity in design from the designer’s perspective, provides a model for the creative process and provides a foundation and direction for future creativity support research by identifying nineteen idea generation techniques utilized by creative professionals.
1. Introduction
Creativity is an extremely important facet of life and is a feature of many of the tasks we do every day. It can occur in a multitude of situations ranging from work to pleasure, from artistic portrayals (music compositions, new media art) to technological innovation [1]. Most texts regard creativity as a beneficial process in an organization and it has been said to offer a competitive advantage in the design processes [2]. Although creativity can be hard to measure, it is understood as a vital area of research in a wide variety of disciplines [3].
Creativity and cognition research has focused upon issues such as creative cognition, creative media and technology, and the impact of technology on practice [4]. Specifically, Human Computer Interaction research has focused on developing technologies to better support the cognitive process of creativity. Much of the research in the field has been focused on highly formalized idea generation practices during group design sessions, without placing these sessions within the larger context of design [5; 6; 7; 8]. The main focus of these studies was on brainstorming techniques; often used to increase creativity in a product development environment.
Brainstorming is an important idea generation technique, however many other strategies have been identified. These include, but are not limited to: free association, mind-mapping, divergent thinking and sketching. While many idea generation techniques have been identified, there have been few studies to date that have analyzed the frequency and motivation of use of idea generation techniques as a whole [5; 9]. It is also unclear what techniques designers, in particular, deem most important in their overall design process.
The purpose of this study was to understand the creative process as viewed from the design community, understand how technologies can assist these processes, develop a model for the idea generation process, gain insights on current strategies used to generate ideas and establish a research initiative for future creativity research. This study resulted in greater knowledge of the design process, a new design focused idea generation model and a total of nineteen different research directions that need to be explored in order to fully support the creative processes of the design community.
2. Related Work
2.1. Creativity Models
Creativity research has long tried to synthesize its results through the elaboration of models of creativity. These models attempt to provide a common framework for further empirical research and aid in the design of creativity support tools [10].
One of the most influential early models of creativity was proposed by Wallas [11]. He divided the creative process into the four distinct phases of Preparation, Incubation, Illumination and Verification. Preparation involves gathering knowledge and understanding the problem. In the Incubation phase, the subconscious takes over, mulling over the problem without deliberate concentration. Illumination occurs as a sudden flash of light, when the solution has been discovered. Verification consists of evaluation of the newly formed idea.
From this four stage creative process model, a wealth of new models was born. Osborn broke the creative processes into two main phases of Idea Generation and Idea Evaluation, decreasing the emphasis on incubation [12]. Amabile decided to add a step with the five stages of Problem and Task Presentation, Preparation, Response Generation, Response Validation and Outcome [13].
Shneiderman took a different approach classifying the types of creativity, and the creators, into the divisions of Inspirationalist, Structuralist and Situationalist [10]. Arguing that creativity support tools should provide support for the different processes resulting from differing creative personality types. He also developed a four stage model of Collect, Relate, Create and Donate; placing a large emphasis on contributing the results of a creative act to the larger community.
Warr and O’Neill synthesized the main creativity models into a unified model of Idea Generation, Problem Preparation and Idea Evaluation [14]. This Generic Creative Process model stressed the similarities of all previous models and attempted to reach a uniform consensus.
While these models have been largely adopted and used in the creation of creativity support tools, there is some skepticism regarding the simplicity of current creativity models. Most of these models note that they are not intended to be followed in a discrete linear fashion [14]. However the representations are always portrayed in a static, linear fashion cycling through distinct stages of the creative process. Many authors have rejected this distinct and limited representation [15; 16; 17]; arguing that creativity is a “dynamic blend of processes that co-occur, in a recursive way throughout the work” [15]. These same authors call for a better understanding of the creative process, and a better representative model. While this paper does not attempt the rigor of a cognitive process model, an understanding of existing models is useful.
### 2.2 Cognitive Process Models
During Guilford’s address to the American Psychological Association in 1950 he noted the four important steps of the creative process. However, he felt the analysis was superficial from a psychological point of view because these models did not explain the mental operations that occur [18]. He proposed a new program of research focusing on the identification, measurement and validation of creativity-relevant abilities [19].
From this research, many new models were developed, stepping away from the basic four process model to more complex models involving sub-processes [20; 21; 22]. These models include such sub-processes as: the investigation of problem finding, problem formation and problem redefinition [21; 23], sub-processes involving the dissemination or combination of information or even the process of generating ideas through a random process [24]. Some authors have proposed models that organize the sub-processes involved. Mumford and colleagues [25] specified a dynamic model based off of a specified set of core processes (problem construction, information encoding (and retrieval), category search, specification of best fitting categories, combination and reorganization of category information to find new solutions, idea evaluation, implementation of ideas and monitoring. The dynamic model allowed for cycling between different processes as deemed necessary during the creative process.
These models address the complexity involved in the creative process. However, the complexity of these models makes them difficult for widespread use and particularly difficult to explain to software developers. Although these models provide a good theoretical background and a deeper understanding of the cognitive mechanisms underlying creativity, they do not necessarily aid in the understanding of how technologies can be developed to better support the creative process due to their complexities.
### 2.3 Idea generation and creativity
Idea generation, or the act of generating novel, applicable ideas, is the activity most frequently associated with creative problem solving (CPS) [26]. As the ideas generated in this stage are used throughout the creative process, taking the idea generation phase seriously is crucial to the success of the CPS process [27; 28; 29; 30]. Research has attempted to increase the number of ideas produced by creative professionals because a direct relationship between the number of initial ideas produced and the quality of the final idea has been established [12].
Osborn stated that out of the entire CPS process, individuals are likely to experience the greatest difficulty during idea generation [12]. This is partly due to the fact that it is difficult for individuals to suspend judgment when formulating ideas. Individuals tend to focus more on the quality of the idea and the practicality, as opposed to focusing on generating as many ideas as possible [13].
The creative process is also inhibited by people’s inability to entertain ideas that violate previously held assumptions, rules, and conventions [31; 32]. In other words, individuals must be able to break associations and patterns of thoughts in order to create new relationships that didn’t previously exist. Additionally, the idea generation process is heavily influenced by intrinsic motivation [13; 33]. This implies that creative professional must be given both the tools and the incentives to produce creative works.
2.4 Idea Generation Techniques
In order to help individuals in the idea generation process, researchers have identified methods to stimulate creative thought, generate more ideas, and expand on the solution space [34; 35; 36]. These techniques categorize the methods used by creative professionals in pursuit of the creative end product. Idea generation techniques consist of a mixture of artificial formal techniques and classifications of naturally occurring design practices.
Smith [37] identified 172 idea generating techniques such as Osborn's [12] Brainstorming and SCAMPER (substitute, combine, adapt, modify, put to other use, eliminate, rearrange). Smith then distilled these techniques into a smaller set of active ingredients that represent the core functionality behind each technique, similar to active ingredients in pharmaceuticals.
Although many techniques have been identified, there are a limited number of studies that have addressed the frequency of use of idea generation techniques and their applicability during constrained situations, namely Lin and colleagues [5]. Knowledge of the relative importance of these techniques is crucial for creativity support tool design, as only a few of the techniques are used frequently in practical design situations.
2.5 Technology for idea generation
The aspiration of most creativity research is to inform the creation of tools to improve the efficiency of the creative process and the quality of the creative results [10]. A number of researchers have proposed standards and implications for the design of creativity support tools [38]. Researchers have suggested implications for the design of creative support systems. For example, tools have been developed to aid: fine arts collaboration [39], sketching [40], creative problem solving environments [41], and distributed scientific communities [42].
Along these lines, Shneiderman built upon his three categories of creativity by recommending ways in which technology can enhance the creative process of the individual [10]. For example, he suggested that Inspirationalists would benefit from technology that emphasizes free association, helps the user understand previous work and orients the user to visual techniques. Structuralists are aided by standard software packages that allow for the organization and structuring of existing ideas and benefit from repositories of previous work. Situationalists could be aided by advanced communication mechanisms, allowing them to share ideas and design documents freely.
Going beyond implications for design, a number of tools have been constructed with the goal of improving the creative process. The Electronic Paper Napkin helps designers retain the ambiguity in their designs and attempts to intelligently recognize what is being drawn [40]. SILK is an interactive idea capture tool designed to facilitate rapid prototyping. This tool aids designers in building rapid prototypes of interfaces through a unique sketching interface [43]. Tools such as IdeaTree and IdeaFisher provide the user with associative linking; however a study of these tools found them insufficient for practical use [9]. While a wealth of these tools has been developed, at present they are not utilized within industry and the current study is focused on inefficiencies in current practices in design.
3. Description of study
The purpose of this study was not to determine what was unique to product design but rather to learn about current practices in the field to guide and develop tools to better support those practices. We interviewed 10 designers involved in the product design process. Nine of these designers were from three different companies and one was a freelance designer. Seven of the interviews were conducted in the designers’ project space, which facilitated the observations of artifacts and allowed us to observe their working environment. The other three interviews were conducted over the phone due to geographical constraints.
3.1. Who was interviewed
Two of the three companies we observed were large corporations with internal product development groups. These two companies were situated in the service and electronics industries. The other company we observed was a design firm that is typically contracted by outside clients to design end consumer products.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Years of Experience in Design</th>
<th># of participants</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Less than 5 years</td>
<td>2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Between 5 and 10</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Between 10 and 15</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Between 15 and 20</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>More than 20</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 1: Designers’ Professional Experience
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Educational Background</th>
<th># of participants</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Engineer</td>
<td>5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Industrial Design</td>
<td>4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Product Design</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Occupational Health</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Architectural design</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Graphic design</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 2: Designers’ Educational Background
The designers interviewed represented a range of professional design experience levels (Table 1) and came from diverse backgrounds (Table 2). Some of the designers had professional background in many industries such as product design and occupational health or engineering and industrial design. Therefore, the background of the participants in Table 2 do not add up to the number of designers that actually participated in this study.
Due to the diverse background of our participants, much of what was observed during this study is not necessarily unique to product design but probably draws from the broader traditions of design including (but not necessarily limited to): architectural design, industrial design, graphic design and engineering design.
3.2. What was asked
After inquiring about the participant’s design experience and professional background, the participant described their creative process from project definition to project completion, explaining what happened at each stage of the process. The participant was then asked to provide the interviewer with an example of a recent project. Examples of the projects discussed include next generation lawn sprayers, automobile interiors, household appliances, computer input devices and consumer packaging.
The participant was then asked to describe techniques that were used to generate the initial design concepts for that project, or techniques that they prefer to use in general. After the techniques had been identified, the participant was asked about the benefits and limitations of each technique. The participant was then asked to show any relevant examples that he or she produced during the process and explain its significance.
4. Design cycle model
One of the first questions participants were asked was to describe their creative process. In reply, almost every one of the designers described their entire product development cycle from idea creation to client presentation. In other words, the designers viewed their overall design process as a creative process, referencing how it is important to be creative throughout the entire cycle.
Previous models of creativity focus mainly on the idea generation process and do not differentiate ideas from final product solutions (see the Creative Models and Cognitive Process Model sections). Following the responses from designers, the following model makes the distinction between the design cycle and the idea generation process. This model aimed to merge the simplicity of the creativity models with the dynamic attributes of the cognitive process models developed by Mumford and associates [25].
The design cycle consists of three phases: idea generation, implementation and evaluation. These phases are represented as distinct circles due to the deliberate separation of the design cycle by time management practices. Under a strict deadline, designers must ensure that they place clear boundaries between the phases in the cycle, ensuring that the product is delivered to the client on schedule. When the designer leaves the idea generation circle he or she has an idea that she is ready to implement. Following the completion of the solution, the designer evaluates the solution and its representation. This evaluation leads to a new insights utilized in the next iteration of the design cycle.
4.1. IR\textsuperscript{3} Idea Generation Model
Focusing on the idea generation phase we discover the IR\textsuperscript{3} Idea Generation Model (Figure 3). This model describes the fluid cycle of idea generation utilized by designers during the conceptual stage of the design cycle. Within this model the designer generates and refines ideas, eventually leaving the circle with an idea that is ready to implement and moving to the next cycle in the overarching design cycle.
The model consists of three non-distinct categories: research, represent and refine all encompassed by the category of inspiration. Designers search for inspiration throughout the idea generation process in order to spark the formation of creative solutions. The process begins with research into the problem domain which will generate a multitude of diverging concepts. Once initial concepts are formed in the research phase they are physically represented in an externalized form. When the representations are solidified the designer begins to
evaluate and refine the concepts eventually leading to a convergence of concepts. The refined, validated concepts then guide further research and knowledge acquisition starting the process anew. The cycle by no means maintains a constant speed of rotation. During the idea generation process a concept may be represented by a quick sketch or may be discarded during a split second refine cycle. (A detailed explanation of each stage occurs in the Categorization of Techniques section.)
This model depicts the transference of concepts and not ideas. This subtle distinction is emphasized to explain the initial problem finding exploration, within which the designers attempt to solidify an ill-defined problem. Thus a concept represents either a working definition of the problem or a potential solution.
5. Idea generation techniques
The interviews were analyzed by the authors and every reference to a distinct idea generation technique was documented. This extensive list was then condensed by conglomerating similar ideas into broader categories. For example all references to emailing, instant messaging or asking someone a specific question were grouped into the consultation category. These categories were carefully refined until agreement was met between the authors.
The list of idea generation techniques was condensed in order to facilitate ease of comprehension and application among creative cognition professionals. In contrast, Smith’s research [37] resulted in the identification of 172 idea generation techniques. Due to the exhaustive, meticulous nature of the list it is difficult to apply during the development of creativity support tools.
The idea generation techniques identified are briefly introduced as follows:
1. Role Playing: Role playing involves designers acting out scenarios. These scenarios are often ones that the designers observed during the research phase of the design process when they participated in user research. This technique is a tool for both team-based ideation and communication to users and/or clients [44; 45].
2. Active Search: Active search refers to designers hunting for a particular solution. This hunt could range from a web search for images of current vacuum cleaners to searching through books, magazines, newspapers, etc. to find the demographics of a particular population [46].
3. Attribute List: Attribute listing refers to taking an existing product or system, breaking it into parts and then recombining these to identify new forms of the product or system [47; 48].
4. Brainstorm: Brainstorming involves generating a large number of solutions to a problem (idea) with a focus on the quantity of ideas. During this process, no ideas are evaluated; in fact unusual ideas are welcomed. Ideas are often combined to form a single good idea as suggested by the slogan “1+1=3” [12]. Brainstorming can be used by groups as well as individuals [49]. Since brainstorming was the first idea generation technique created it is often referred to as, “the mother of all idea generation techniques” [50].
5. Collaborate: Collaboration refers to two or more people working together towards a common goal [51]. Designers often work in groups and co-create during the entire creative process.
6. Concrete Stimuli: Concrete stimuli are used when designers want to gain new perspectives on a problem by manipulating physical materials. This could be looking at paint chips, feeling different material textures or physically maneuvering objects.
7. Critique: Critique refers to receiving input on current design ideas. This could be collaborative such as receiving a design critique from a colleague or individuals critiquing their own ideas (either systematically or intrinsically). This technique often spurs new thought by finding solutions to design flaws within current concepts.
8. Documenting: Documenting refers to designers writing down ideas (physically or electronically). This includes journaling, writing stories, and taking notes.
9. Expert Opinion: Designers often elicit opinions from experts to identify potential problems with products or services before more comprehensive evaluations. This occurs when they are looking for an answer to a problem that is outside their domain knowledge or when they want to test a new idea [52; 53].
10. Empathy/User Research: User research requires the designer to observe people in everyday situations in order to develop empathy for them. The methods used to conduct this type of research is founded in ethnographic research methods such as observations, field studies and rapid ethnography [44; 54].
11. Encompass: Encompassing is an inspirational technique which involves designers immersing themselves in information relevant to the current project.
12. Forced Analogy: Forced analogy involves comparing the current problem with something else that has little or nothing in common in order to gain new insights and results. This technique often generates ideas for new areas of research. [55; 56]
13. Incubate: Incubation refers to stepping back from the problem to let the subconscious mind work [11].
14. Passive Searching: Passive searching refers to designers looking through material (web, magazines, books) for inspiration without searching for a particular solution to a problem. They are simply looking for inspiration.
15. Prototyping: Prototyping, in this study, refers to a low-fidelity model of an idea. These models can be created with any type of material (paper, clay, etc.) as they are only used to conceptualize a thought.
16. Reflect: Reflection occurs when designers review their previous work (sketches, documents, prototypes, etc.)
17. Sketching: Sketching refers to a rough drawing of an idea.
18. Socializing: Socializing refers to talking with others about topics unrelated to the current project.
19. Storyboards: Storyboards are a way for designers to represent information gained in the research phase of the design process. Quotes from the user, pictures, and other relative information are placed on a cork board, or a similar surface, to represent a scenario and to help understand the relationships between design ideas. Designers often post information about users using as little detail as possible to allow for interpretation of information [57; 58].
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Technique</th>
<th>Research</th>
<th>Represent</th>
<th>Refine</th>
<th>Inspire</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Active Search (100)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>X</td>
<td>x</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Attribute List (40)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>x</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Brainstorm (80)</td>
<td>x</td>
<td></td>
<td>x</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Collaborate (60)</td>
<td>x</td>
<td>x</td>
<td>x</td>
<td>x</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Concrete Stimuli (2)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Critique (90)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Documenting (60)</td>
<td>x</td>
<td>x</td>
<td></td>
<td>x</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Expert Opinion (90)</td>
<td>x</td>
<td>x</td>
<td>x</td>
<td>x</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Empathy/User Research (80)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Encompass (50)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Forced Analogy (5)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>x</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Incubate (30)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Passive Searching (60)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Prototyping (70)</td>
<td>x</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Reflect (60)</td>
<td>x</td>
<td></td>
<td>X</td>
<td>x</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Role Playing (10)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Sketching (100)</td>
<td>x</td>
<td>x</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Socialize (30)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Storyboarding (40)</td>
<td>x</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>x</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 3: Categorization of idea generation techniques
5.1. Categorization of techniques
After the 19 idea generation techniques were identified, they were categorized and placed into the IR’ model according to what the technique was used for (inspiration, research, representation or refinement). The techniques were placed into the boundary areas of the model if the technique served many purposes. Therefore some techniques are placed on the boundaries between two categories or in the middle of the model if they encompass all aspects of the ideation process, see Table 3. A detailed description of the categories and the explanations of technique placement are described below.
5.2. Inspiration
As previously mentioned, inspiration can occur at any stage within the idea generation process. Many designers mentioned solely inspirational idea generation techniques such as: passive searching, encompassing themselves in the material, socializing, and incubating. Passive searching refers to searching without a particular concept in mind. In particular they search to, “Get inspiration, (when you) don't even know what you are looking for”. Many designers reported searching through magazines, web sites, and books. Designers reported checking web blogs on a daily basis. Many designers also said they frequently search on the internet, “The internet is obviously a god-send. There are a few good websites that people frequent around here. (We) Spend time just looking through ideas.”
Designers also reported immersing themselves in information relevant to the current project, “It helps me to be really physical. You took photos, you took video. Maybe you built some prototypes. But you try to get it up in your space and spread it all out.” Designers reported going into their project space and reflecting, looking at all of the information and “finding out what is really important”.
Another method designer’s use is to socialize. Socializing refers to talking to someone about anything unrelated to the project at hand such as the weather, sports or politics. This allows them to clear their mind for new ideas to immerge.
Finally, designers incubate to find inspiration or let information ‘sink in; Some incubation methods mentioned by designers were taking showers and going on walks.
5.3. Research
During the research phase of the idea generation process, designers try to gain additional knowledge to help them identify potential solutions. This acquisition of knowledge could include anything from user research, to active web searches, to reflecting on previous work.
In this investigation, designers reported the necessity to have upfront empathy with the users. In order for designers to achieve empathy with their users, they must conduct user research. Although designers might have a clear audience in mind, they often use forced analogies to develop a larger research area. For example, one designer was developing a new interior cab design for a commercial truck. In order to develop empathy for the user, the designer interviewed people who lived in small spaces such as small houses and semi sleepers. This forced analogy allows designers to research a broader area and gain additional knowledge.
In addition to the upfront user research, designers often reflect on their previous work. This work often comes in the form of pictures, physical prototypes, reports, sketches, etc. Designers can also perform an active search where they search for particular information. For example, if a designer is designing a new water bottle they could perform a web search for relevant pictures of water bottles or names of manufacturing companies. Although this type of search could take place in the web, it could also be performed by looking through books, magazines, newspapers, etc.
Sketches or documentation (physical or electronic) is also utilized during the research phase. The designer sketches possible solutions as well as documents his or her journey by journaling (writing stories/ notes). “Sometimes the best way for me to think is to sketch… to sketch and to write…. 90% of my notebooks is stuff I’m thinking… (it helps me) organize my thoughts.” Designers often use these sketches and documents to generate ideas in the next phase
During this represent phase of the idea generation process, designers use physical objects to represent their design ideas. As previously stated, sketching and documenting are both used during the representation phase of the idea generation process. However, in this phase the designers use sketching and documenting as a way to conceptualize their idea, “It helps other people understand your idea. It gives them something to react to”. Another designer stated that they liked to communicate their ideas through acting them out. This allows designers to properly communicate an idea to others when they cannot explain it by sketching and writing. Word lists also provide a way for designers to illustrate their ideas. When using word lists, designers list important features that should be included in the design. Word lists can include aesthetic as well as functional elements of a product.
Storyboards are also used by designers as a way of displaying knowledge gained during the research phase. Storyboards usually include information about users researched in the research phase. The designers represent these individuals by including pictures and a few key pieces of information that they learned during their visit.
“Quick and dirty” prototypes are also created in this phase to manifest their ideas by using materials such as foam core, paper, Legos™, and Play-Doh™. Prototyping in the representation phase should not be confused with prototyping in the later phases of the design process as it is only used to represent a rough idea and not a finalized product (low versus high fidelity prototypes).
When designers need to develop a product outside their area of expertise they often elicit expertise from others. The designers usually either search for an answer to the problem or a “spark that helps them form the answer”.
The final phase in the idea generation process is the refine phase. In this phase, designers converge ideas based on evaluation of the concepts. This evaluation could be a formal process through such as a design critiques from another individuals, or they could be informal critique from the individual such as having the notion that, “this idea won’t work”. The number of ideas is normally reduced in this phase as they weed out ideas, but by critiquing these alternatives they gain new insight. Additionally, designers often reflect on previous designs, and actively search for comparisons during critiques.
There are two idea generation techniques that have yet to be discussed, collaboration and brainstorming. These two techniques appear in the middle of Figure 3 because they occur in all areas of the idea generation process: research, representation and refine. Collaboration refers to working with another individual to actively generate ideas. One designer described collaboration as, “sitting down and talking about it, seeing what seems to resonate, creating a loose construction of ideas in an informal setting.” This could occur during research by trying to identify possible research paths, discussing the ideas generated during the representation phase or by reflecting on the concepts created with another person.
Brainstorming is one of the most popular techniques used by designers. This is directly reflected by the 80 percent of the designers in our study who mentioned brainstorming as an idea generation technique. In a brainstorming session, designers create as many ideas as possible in about an hour session. Within these sessions the individuals go through many cycles of the idea generation process by researching what others have presented, representing their own ideas, intrinsically critiquing the ideas in order to develop new ideas.
6. Design Implications
Designers were not only asked to mention the techniques they use, but also discuss the limitations of these techniques. The rest of this section will discuss these limitations and offer implications for future creativity support tools.
6.1. Support Group Collaboration
“A lot of what we do is co-creation, (we are) building things together”
Most of the designers interviewed worked in a corporate setting, so they were almost always co-located with their affiliates. This is often useful as they critique colleagues design ideas, collaborate on products and socialize to inspire new thoughts. Although these things are easy to do when people are in the same location, it is difficult to replicate this type of community when people are distributed or have unusually busy schedules. Designers mentioned struggling to communicate design ideas when they were working with team members that were dispersed throughout the city, state, country and world. Although briefly mentioning collaborative tools such as wiki’s and video conferencing, they immediately dismissed these technologies because their needs were never met. For example, one designer complained that sometimes files would be saved over on a wiki because no one knew who had the most up-to-date file or who made the last revisions. They also complained that video conferencing was inefficient, they liked the privacy of telephones (people couldn’t see what they were doing).
Due to the technology-designer mismatch, designers often revert back to old technologies such as emailing and telephones. They feel these metrics are more effective at communicating and sharing ideas. Software is needed that enables people that are distributed to have the same
resources as those that are co-located (automated design critique, built in social channels, and collaboration tools that allow easy exchange of both ideas and file sharing).
6.2. Elicit expertise
Almost all of the designers that were interviewed mentioned eliciting expertise at some point during the design process. They claimed to utilize this technique when the problem was outside of their domain knowledge, when they were looking for a spark for an answer, and when they wanted to test a new idea. Although designers established the necessity of eliciting expertise, they outlined the difficulties of finding the right person to contact. One designer stated, "we have internet tools that are internal, you can go to people pages and see things about a person and read up on them, but in my experience the most useful thing is just word of mouth." This shows there is some added benefits (both trust in the system (person) and ease of information access (who to contact)) of addressing individuals you know as opposed to using these online information pages.
Although in most cases asking a colleague first hand is convenient, it is often difficult as designers work odd hours and are constantly traveling. When one designer was asked how he/she determines who to contact when expertise is needed they replied, “more often than not the first thing you want to do is just email the whole office, or the whole company. You say, ‘Has anyone worked on a project about open carousels or on a project that has to deal with injectable devices.’ You want to throw that out there so you can get names of people in the company to talk to them face-to-face.” When another designer was asked how they elicit expertise they stated, “I don’t like sending out general emails because there are so many general emails and there is a lot of time wasted so if I can avoid it, I do.”
Software needs to be developed that aids designers in finding the expertise they need for a particular design problem. Future research should focus on understanding the problems with current online, internal, tools and the information cues used by contacting a colleague face-to-face (how they know the expert, what projects they have worked on together in the past, etc).
6.3. Re-use design knowledge
During the interview process, 60% of the designers queried mentioned reflecting on their previous work. Since all of the designers mentioned sketching, 60% mentioned documenting, 80% mentioned user research (including taking photos, videos and notes) and 70% mentioned making low fidelity prototypes, the need for a proper storage and retrieval system of design knowledge, at both the individual and group level, is greatly needed. Designers often cited the poor structure of their current electronic storage devices. At the individual level, designers need to have a proper filing system that allows them to reflect on previous work without any limitations. Although this is already a challenge at the individual level (creating key words, making information readily accessible) it becomes even harder at a group level.
Designers often mentioned titling files with ambiguous names such as CellPhoneModel2.sldprt. The problem with this type of filing system is it makes file recognition from other colleagues incredible difficult. In addition, designers not only want to have design knowledge of ideas generated, they want to know about deliverables and about company expectations. When asked about what types of information they reflect on during design, one designer stated, “In the early stage it could be trying to figure out the right avenues to do research in. In the later stages it is more important to learn about deliverables and how they can be communicated. (For instance) what tools were used… what obstacles had to be overcome…”
New technologies are needed to aid in design knowledge reuse. The system should be easy to implement (aka not having to scan in all sketches) and should be easy to search. Not only should generated ideas be stored, but also deliverables. The information should have several keyword search mechanisms such as by company, product designed, colleagues who worked on the project, etc.
6.4. Supporting active search
There were two types of search tasks mentioned during the interviews: active and passive. Designers mentioned using active search when they were looking for a particular solution. However, one designer summed up active search problems best when they said, “I find the internet really hard to use from a design standpoint. (AKA) Find the answer to our design problem through Google™.” For example, “If what you are after is not necessarily about bathroom soap products, it is hard to find the keywords to define the projects that are relevant for the content, for the types of deliverables. You never really find easily what you are looking for. You have to already know what to look for.”
There are two types of problems associated with active searching: the user cannot find the information or the information is simply not available. Not being able to find the information is a problem that can be addressed in part by encouraging designers to participate in embedding semantic knowledge on the web, for example by tagging information sources with relevant (design) keywords. For example, designers mentioned they frequently visited blogging sites. If the designers found a blog that would be interesting for someone working on a cleaning product, they could tag the blog with the appropriate key words. This type of methods could be used not only on blogs but websites, pictures, magazines, books and other documents. Although seemingly simple, this type of group tagging activity could greatly benefit the design community.
The second problem with active search is if the information is not available. Often times designers search for design solutions to a particular problem and are unable to find an answer. It is not necessarily the case that no one has ever tackled the problem, but the information is not
readily accessible. This type of problem could be addressed by an expertise search engine. If someone had worked on a similar problem they could offer new insights.
6.5. Supporting passive inspiration
Inspirational techniques are often times very insightful for designers. Half of the designers mentioned encompassing themselves in material that is related to the project such as pictures, notes, similar products etc. There are many benefits to these techniques. One designer stated that it helps them “be really physical. You took photos, you took video. Maybe you built some prototype. But you try to get it up in your space and spread it all out.”
When working on a design team that is co-located, this activity is extremely easy; there is one project space where the information is stored. On the individual level this is also easy, as long as the designer is in the same location as the design material. However, if the designer leaves to travel or the group is dispersed, this space is no longer useful.
Software that supports the replication of these project spaces is needed. A dynamic digital picture frame could be displayed in each of the dispersed groups work space as a means of replicating this concept. As designer members added new pictures to the design folder, the picture frame would automatically update. This would allow design team members to see new pictures, notes and ideas easily.
7. Conclusion
Creativity research has been conducted for almost a century and yet new findings are still being reported. This study has attempted to better understand the creative process of professional designers in order to improve creativity support tools. The authors realized the importance of creativity throughout the design cycle and reflected this in the creative model of design. Additionally, in order to deepen the understanding of the idea generation process among creativity support tools designers, the IR’ model of idea generation was developed, emphasizing the importance of non-distinct phases and the cycle within a cycle concept. The authors also expanded the creativity literature base by providing new insights on the idea generation techniques used by designers. Finally, a research initiative for future creativity support tools was established based on the limitations of current instruments. Although only a small sample was surveyed, inferences can still be made to lead the design of future creativity support tools.
8. Acknowledgements
This work was supported in part by the National Science Foundation under award no. IIS 06-138069.
9. References |
Logans Beach
Urban Design Guidelines
Table of Contents
Introduction
Background
Project Objectives / Methodology
Review
Existing Urban Design Issues
Design Guidelines
How to use these Guidelines
Computer Model
Introduction
The Logans Beach guidelines provide landowners, developers and designers with a clear indication of what Warrnambool City Council's expectations are with regard to the type of development acceptable in the area. These 'expectations' have been developed over a period of years in response to a series of planning initiatives. The initiatives have flowed from Commonwealth, State, Local Government and Statutory Bodies planning and environment legislation. All of this was tested extensively with the Warrnambool community. Therefore the strategic vision for the guidelines has already been laid down. The primary objective of this project then, is to flesh out the established strategic framework with detailed urban design guidelines for the Logans Beach area. These guidelines cover issues relating to:
- Protection of viewsheds and views
- Lot sizes
- Building Orientation
- Building envelopes and setbacks
- Building form, colour and material
- Entrances, driveways and fences
- Vegetation
- Signage
- Hopkins Point Road
- Whale watching area
- Public land and access issues
- The extent of development to be allowed and site boundaries
The guidelines consist of this document and a computer model to assess development proposals.
In coastal environments there is ongoing pressure to have access to a semi rural lifestyle, great views, the beach, the amenities of a city and a natural unspoilt setting. These guidelines are needed to:
- Ensure that the popularity of Logans Beach and this unique and valuable resource does not prove its undoing by allowing over or inappropriate development.
- Ensure that further development is limited and more sympathetic, to the future environment.
Logans Beach experiences the typical issues common to a popular coastal areas. There is ongoing development pressure in the form of proposed residential infill. Previous building activity in the area has resulted in some intrusive developments which do not fit in with the environment and lifestyle. Likewise there are good local examples of built elements which can be used as guides to achieving better building design.
These guidelines promote a local character within a healthy environment. Wholesale translation of current housing fashions, such as kit or project homes, ostentatious ‘statement’ homes, ‘suburban housing development look homes’ or the dream house without respect to the local landform, colours, textures, housing density, environmental issues and authenticity of the naturalistic setting and semi rural lifestyle, is discouraged by these guidelines.
Hopkins River
- Council needs to implement a major revegetation program to improve the quality and amenity of the area.
Warrnambool Foreshore Urban Design Framework
"Conflict presently exists between demand for medium density development and preservation of historic areas. Despite pressure to develop areas of cultural and environmental sensitivity, such as the CBD, South Warrnambool Village, Logans Beach and the foreshore, future development should be compatible in form and appearance with the existing built environment and natural features of the respective sites."
Project Objectives/Methodology
- Undertake a review of previous planning schemes and other urban design guidelines
- Warrnambool Foreshore Urban Design Framework
- Warrnambool Coastal Action Plan
- City Plan
- Landscape setting types for the Victorian Coast
- Warrnambool City Council
- Tourism and Service Signage Guidelines
- Victorian Coastal Strategy
- Siting and Design Guidelines for Structures on the Victorian Coast
- Undertake a site inventory:
- property boundaries and numbers, existing buildings and structures, road and street names, surface type of all vehicular and pedestrian infrastructure, existing vegetation, planning zones, land use, water bodies, contours, topography units, existing built character, visual intrusion, view sheds, public land and privately owned land, proposed development etc.
- Undertake a site analysis:
- Views from the site
- High and low visibility locations and structures
- Whale viewing locations
- Views to river
- Views to coast
- Views from surrounding areas into the site
- From the city
- From the Princess Highway
- From Hopkins Point Road
Existing vegetation
- Location
- Extent of cover
- Type of vegetation
Land form units
- Foredues
- Slope analysis
- Natural site boundary via slope analysis
Building types and locations
- Impact upon the environment
Zoning
- Zoning densities and lot sizes
- 10,000 sq/m
- 6,000 sq/m
- 3,000 sq/m
- Develop Draft Guidelines in response to the above findings and in consultation with Council Representative
- Consultation
- Public meeting to gauge the local communities thoughts
- Draft copies of documents available prior to meeting
- What do landowners want within planning constraints
- Incorporate communities and Council's comments into final draft
- Final Draft developed and submitted to Council
Warrnambool Planning Scheme
Policy Basis
- The Logans Beach area is of national importance for the viewing of the Southern Right Whale. The Whale nursery provides a unique opportunity for the viewing of whales. In addition, the area is a locality of high environmental and landscape amenity, an entrance to the City. It has some capacity for further development, provided various constraints affecting the area are properly managed and respected.
Objectives
- To protect the whales from potential offshore impacts from development in the Logans Beach area by limiting the extent and density of development.
- To encourage the further sensitive development of the whale viewing area.
- To encourage the sustainable management of privately owned tracts of foreshore and river.
- To ensure the proper protection and management of the primary dune and river environs.
- To protect the distinct hill top and ridge lines and other notable vantage points and view corridors from inappropriate development.
- To develop appropriate building guidelines for the area to ensure that buildings harmonise with the environment and landscape.
- To ensure that development does not contaminate groundwater and other natural resources.
- To protect the capacity and enhance the safe operation of Hopkins Point Road.
- To develop Hopkins Point Road as a major tourist gateway to the City, and potential consideration as the Great Ocean Road tourist drive.
- To define the eastern extent of the Warrnambool urban area by the principal north-west-south ridge line and flat hilltop to ensure the development of the area does not adversely impact upon panoramic views from the City, Princess Highway and from Hopkins Point Road east of the study area.
- To limit further subdivision east of the whale viewing platform, south of the alignment Logans Beach Road to maintain the 'Wild Coast' outlook.
Implementation
It is the policy that:
- Conventional sized residential development in the Logans Beach area is not supported.
- Development will take place generally in accordance with the requirements of the Logans Beach Local Plan (1997)
- Large lots in the area will only be subdivided in accordance with the requirements of a Development Plan Overlay to ensure a co-ordinated and comprehensive approach to development.
- New uses requiring the construction of new buildings and/or effluent disposal systems will not be supported in the area identified as the Coastal Protection Area in Map 2 to this clause.
- Proper protection and management of the primary dune and river environs occur through the use of Environmental Significance Overlays.
- Particular care will be taken in the assessment of development applications on the south side of Hopkins Point Road to protect the visual landscape amenity, the designation of a Significant Landscape Overlay.
- Revegetation will be actively encouraged.
- Hill tops, ridge lines and other notable vantage points be protected from inappropriate use and development.
- Development should not contaminate ground water and other natural resources.
Warmambool Coastal Action Plan
Recommendations
Hopkins River to Lake Gillear
Blue Hole to Logans Beach
Issues
- Whale watching at Logans Beach
- Commercial and recreational boating in the whale nursery area
- Encroachment of poorly site and designed housing
- Uncontrolled beach access
- Degradation of primary dunes in private ownership
- Scenic and landscape value (panoramic views, local hill tops and ridgelines)
- Public access along eastern river bank
Objectives
- To protect and promote Logans Beach as an eco-attraction of national significance.
- To enhance shore-based viewing opportunities, landscape quality and car parking at Logans Beach.
- To implement Code of Practice for commercial fishing vessels.
- To protect landscape values.
- To stabilise and revegetate sensitive dunes.
- To prevent subdivision and urban development adversely affecting landscape and environmental values.
Recommendations
No. 51
Protect Logans Beach as a dedicated whale watching area
Priority = High, Resp. = WCC
No. 52
Recognise existing Code of Practice for commercial fishing vessels and investigate its application to all boating during the viewing season.
Priority = Medium, Resp. = NRE
No. 53
Investigate the suitability of a purpose-built whale viewing centre on the coast.
Priority = Medium, Resp. = WCC
No. 54
Commission a study to prepare development plans and siting and design guidelines for the Logans Beach and Hopkins River area in consultation with land owners and stakeholders.
Priority = High, Resp. = WCC
No. 55
Investigate an alternative scenic route to Logans Beach from Hopkins Point Road.
Priority = Low, Resp. = WCC
No. 56
Rationalise beach access from residential areas and from Blue Hole along river bank. Revegetate disturbed dune areas and non-essential tracks.
Priority = High, Resp. = WCC
No. 57
Negotiate public ownership of improved open space connections along eastern bank of Hopkins River from Hopkins Point Bridge and along primary dune to Logans Beach.
Priority = Low, Resp. = WCC/NRE
No. 58
Relocate and redevelop Blue Hole toilet facility in conjunction with proposed Logans Beach Whale Watching Viewing Area Entry Station.
Priority = Medium, Resp. = WCC
No. 59
Construct a new bridge over the Hopkins River on existing alignment.
Priority = High, Resp. = VR
WCC = Warnambool City Council
NRE = Department of Natural Resources & Environment
VR = Vic Roads
Review
Warrnambool Coastal Action Plan
Logans Beach to Lake Gillear
Issues
- Landscape values (steep dunes, transitional cliffs, vertical rocky inlets).
- Scenic values (rural view corridors to the coast and inland, ridgelines, panoramic views).
- Subdivision of large rural holdings along Hopkins Point Road.
- Visually sensitive landscape with minimal protection from low coastal vegetation.
Objectives
- To protect the sensitive interface between the coast and adjoining rural land.
- To minimise fragmentation of the rural landscape as a result of inappropriate subdivision and scattered development on clifftops and too close to Hopkins Point Road.
- To protect scenic qualities along Hopkins Point Road by investigating opportunities to group development rights and other suitable planning mechanisms.
- To identify Hopkins Point Road as a scenic coastal corridor into Warrnambool.
Recommendations
No. 60
Protect landscape and scenic values.
Priority = High, Resp. = WCC
No. 61
Designate and promote the Hopkins Point Corridor as a scenic landscape entry into Warrnambool via Allansford or as an extension of the Great Ocean Road.
Priority = High, Resp. = WCC/VR
No. 62
Develop a Landscape Management Plan for the Hopkins Point Corridor.
Priority = High, Resp. = WCC
No. 63
Develop siting and design guidelines for freehold land along the Hopkins Point Corridor.
Priority = High, Resp. = WCC
No. 64
Protect stability of dune top areas with low intensity use.
Priority = Medium, Resp. = WCC
Warnambool City Council
VR = Vic Roads
Logans Beach
Urban Design Guidelines
Connell Wagner
The Landscape Setting Types for the Victorian Coast together with the Siting and Design Guidelines for Structures on the Victorian Coast have been developed to assist the Victorian Coastal Council, coastal managers, Local Government and other stakeholders to implement the Victorian Coastal Strategy by encouraging sympathetic coastal development and promoting excellence in coastal design.
General principle have been embraced by the Victorian Coastal Council to guide the direction of the Victorian Coastal Strategy. In adopting this Strategy, public authorities, agencies and bodies will respect these principles, which underpin best practice for coastal planning and management.
The Landscape Setting Types for the Victorian Coast aim to provide a better understanding of the landscape character of the coast by identifying significant features and characteristics of various sections of the coast. The identified landscape character should be considered and respected in the development proposals for structures at specific locations in order to achieve an integrated development which is sympathetic to the surrounding landscape.
The identification of Landscape Setting Types was based on site investigations, aerial inspection of the entire coastline, analysis of a large range of maps, aerial photographs and reports.
The following criteria have been used to determine these zones:
- The importance of the landscape as viewed from number of points. Aerial inspection of the entire Victorian coastline confirmed the complexity of coastal viewshed, as did visual analysis from the water and the hinterland (for example, views from points inland on the Bellarine Peninsula towards the Heads and Port Phillip Bay clearly show that these inland areas are a part of the coastal landscape).
- The nature and extent of the natural systems (landforms/geomorphology/land cover).
- The nature and extent of the cultural systems (settlements/structures).
- Exposure of landscape to winds/seas; that is the stability or energy level of the landscape.
- Capacity of the landscape to absorb change without creating visual impacts from prominent view points.
- Cultural influences and impacts (for example, urban development, heritage – both Aboriginal and European and land use).
- Landscape character – including climatic, experiential, visual and spiritual aspects of the coastal environment.
Using the above criteria thirty four setting types have been identified and defined. These landscape setting types are broad and provide a useful framework for classification purposes. The development of Coastal Action Plans will further delineate and refine characteristics of the setting type at the site specific level.
While the entirety of the coast is visually significant, there are some areas that are particularly unique, such as Port Phillip Heads, Twelve Apostles at Port Campbell, Gippsland Lakes, the three Capes at Portland, the Great Ocean Road and the wilderness coast near Mallacoota Inlet to mention a few. These areas are particularly vulnerable to change in which values could suffer if subjected to intensive or inappropriate development.
In compliance with Designing Competitive Places, an Urban Design Agenda for Australian Local Government, implementing an Urban Design Agenda will benefit the Community and Council by:
- Protecting and improving the value of public and private investment, and the investment attraction of your locality;
- More effective public participation in the planning process, reducing conflict and lost time;
- Better understanding by the private sector of Council's priorities and directions;
- Better integration of new development with the existing locality;
- Strengthening Local Governments' position in dealings with other spheres of government and the private sector;
- Greater certainty of outcomes for all stakeholders;
- Real savings in public resources, improved efficiency in urban management outcomes and better decision making.
Existing Urban Design Issues
Most of the Logans Beach area is highly visible from various viewpoints both within and outside the site. Strong guidelines need to be put in place to ensure that the amenity of the area is not further degraded. There are various buildings in this area which are visually intrusive. They are:
- located on prominent ridge lines or highly visible locations,
- inappropriate in style, colour, material, shape, bulk,
- do not have sufficient vegetation or appropriate vegetation to screen the house or block of land,
- either block views or negatively impact on views.
Logans Beach area is visually an undifferentiated part of outer urban, semi rural sprawl. Logans Beach could be an outer edge of any seaside city. Given that it is in direct proximity to the Great Ocean Road and Wilderness Coast, its past development fails to respect this context. Houses are predominantly visible from most surrounding areas.
Future development will identify sensitive locations and impose guidelines aimed at fostering appropriate development. Sympathetic housing development is required in this exposed coastal area, future development should be more appropriate, thus merging with the surrounding coastal landform.
Mixed densities – the existing densities are approximately 10,000 sq/m and 6,000 sq/m South of Hopkins Point Road and 750 – 1300 sq/m North of Hopkins Point Road. Jarring impact between the suburban lot sizes north of Hopkins Point Road and the semi rural lot sizes south of Hopkins Point Road.
Logans Beach
- Housing located on highly visible locations visually reduces the amenity of the area
- However, well sited dwellings are also sufficiently screened and should be encouraged in all existing and future developments
Existing Urban Design Issues
Whale Watching Carpark - Logans Beach
- Extensive clearing has resulted in this denuded landscape. A revegetation program is required to minimise exposure and provide protection.
- Smaller lot sizes north of Hopkins Point Road make that area look like a suburban housing development.
- The current ad hoc housing densities do not read well on the ground or when viewed from vantage points.
- Subdivision of blocks does not follow land contours, with the result that block shapes accentuated by fences and lack of vegetation intrude upon the landscape.
- Extensive clearing has resulted in a bald landscape, lacking in significant vegetation but with good views.
- A revegetation program for all land in the Logans Beach area should be developed and implemented. This may include incentives for property owners. New developments to have vegetation requirements.
- Existing vegetation is predominantly European in character.
- A species list of suitable indigenous and native plants is to be used. Revegetation to be selected from this list unless special circumstances indicate other species should be used.
- The major approach routes to and from the city centre, Hopkins Point Road need to be landscaped to reinforce their role.
- Hopkins Point Road currently lacks vegetation.
- Future housing adjoining Hopkins Point Road should not block views to the coast.
- Vegetation surrounding houses has currently, and in the future, will further block views, unless controlled. This is particularly the case with Norfolk Island Pines and Monterey Cypresses, both widely used in coastal environments.
- The existing lack of clear role and identity of Hopkins Point Road needs to be addressed by appropriate gateway statements and boundaries.
- Previous development has resulted in a layout for Logans Beach with no clear boundary for the area being demarcated.
Design Guidelines
- The boundary for the Logans Beach area is to be set by the natural amphitheatre formed by the escarpment to the North and East.
Development in the Logans Beach area should meet the 'spirit' of the guidelines. Council recognises that there are exceptions to general rules and therefore if circumstances require these guidelines may be interpreted in a more flexible fashion.
Guideline objectives
- To retain significant vegetation to maximise screening of new and existing structures.
- To ensure residential development is sympathetic to the semi-rural character of the Logans Beach area and coastal environment.
- To encourage innovative and site responsive building design and subdivision of land.
- To ensure siting of dwellings retains existing vegetation, sits within acceptable viewsheds and minimises disruption of views across and within the Logans Beach area.
- To ensure future residential development is contained below prominent ridgelines to the east of the Hopkins River.
- To minimise visual intrusion of building images on the landscape.
- To consolidate a limit to city development.
- To ensure protection of the primary dune system.
- To ensure landscape and environmental constraints determine subdivision patterns rather than the availability of infrastructure such as reticulated sewerage.
- To provide generous separation of dwellings and limit their intrusion on the skyline.
Viewsheds & Views
The coast is a resource for the general public and future generations as well as individual landowners. The coast may be taken to include a range of things:
- The views of the water, hinterland and coast from the water
- The views of the water, coast and hinterland from the land.
- In highly visually exposed areas views and the character of the landscape shall not be degraded by further development.
- The viewshed of Logans Beach needs to be defined from both within and without the site.
- Key views to be maintained and controlled.
- Negative visual aspects to be remediated.
- Particular attention shall be paid to the maintenance of panoramic views and the views from roads and other public spaces.
- Views of natural features such as dunes, the surf, coastal bluffs and outcroppings and estuaries to be protected and public viewing areas provided.
- Development including buildings, fences, paved area, signs, landscaping shall not block or negatively impact upon views in the area.
- Buildings when viewed from anywhere within the Logans Beach area shall be visually unobtrusive.
- Structures in proximity to ridge lines should be designed with a profile which hugs the slope and does not intrude into the skyline or detract from the land slope.
Lot Sizes
- Existing planning reports and strategies repeatedly call for the need to limit development at Logans Beach.
- A decrease in lot sizes is recommended not to happen.
- Lot sizes should remain at 6000 sq/m minimum on a 10000 sq/m average south of Hopkins Point Road.
Building orientation
- Rather than impose set height restrictions, these guidelines indicate how buildings must fit into the landscape.
- Where possible buildings shall be sited so that they do not obstruct neighbours views.
- South Westerly winds are strong for most of the year so it is advisable to allow for this when orientating buildings.
- Buildings form should be designed and orientated to fit in harmoniously with the surrounding landscape.
- Preserving a natural setting is a priority for the Logans Beach area.
- Proposed buildings shall have a minimum and maximum envelope in which the building must fall.
- Cut and fill shall follow the natural contours in a seamless fashion.
- Obvious earth platforms are to be avoided.
- The need for grading is to be minimised.
Design Guidelines
Building Envelopes/Setbacks
- Proposed buildings must demonstrate via a 3 dimensional building envelope that they minimise impacting on views of adjoining landowners and the general public.
- In general double storey residences are discouraged because of the extra height. They may be allowed if it can be demonstrated that they meet the guidelines particularly with regard to not blocking views and not being visually intrusive in the landscape.
- Setbacks will largely be determined by this issue.
Vegetation
- The circled house has the right roof pitch for location. It is also situated a good distance below the ridge line.
- Vegetation also enhances the rural setting, provides sufficient screening and reduces visual intrusion.
Low Coastal Vegetation
- A good example of low coastal vegetation which could be introduced in revegetation schemes and housing developments.
- Low vegetation staggered with taller shrubs and trees will screen developments without blocking views.
Appropriate housing design for Logans Beach would be:
- Simple and complementary design
- Good roof pitch and lines
- The colour scheme is too light and prominent
Good Design Principles
- Dark roof colour, low pitch, flat looking roofing material, simple roof
- Low flat design verandah
- Dark colour brick and trim
- However, the overall effect still lacks authenticity. It is still too suburban in character
A good example of what is appropriate for Logans Beach
- Low roof pitch, dark colour, simple unbroken roof line, flat roof material
- Dark colour brick, dark trim to windows
- Large house with verandah creates a homestead look
- Although vegetation is too formal, height and massing of plantings is well suited
An example example of character and resolution of details
- Appropriate roof line and building material (flat appearance)
- Ideal elongated low building and verandah
- Bagged or painted brickwork creates an excellent character and finish
- Vegetation provides ideal screening without reducing views
- Roof colour and building material is too light. Mid dark tones are more flattering
Design Guidelines
Building Form, Colour & Material
- Building form shall be simple and aimed at receding into the landform.
- Bulk in building structure is to be avoided.
- Roof pitch shall in general be pitched low or in harmony with the natural contours of the land.
- Large expanses of walls should be avoided by being broken up via feature windows, brickwork, shade structures, etc.
- Second stories if incorporated shall be in proportion to the landscape and building. In general box-like or slightly rectangular proportions are unacceptable for buildings. The building must read as a continuation of the horizontal plane of the landscape. It shall not protrude excessively from the surrounding landscape.
- Building additions shall not negatively impact upon increasing the bulk of the building. They shall in general follow the guidelines for building form.
- In general colours for all materials shall be mid-dark tones, flat and receding. Light colours are generally unacceptable as they come forward too much.
- No building or element of a building, when viewed from a distance shall stand out by virtue of its colour or reflectiveness.
- Reflective surfaces are to be minimized. Highly glazed tiles or reflective roofs are unsuitable. Large areas of glass should be dark glazed. Low vegetation should be used to break up large areas of glass or any other material.
- Colours of doors, windows, fascias and other trim elements should be mid-dark tones. Light colours are unacceptable as they come forward too much in the landscape.
Building Form, Colour & Material
- Roof materials should be fine colourbond or flat slate like tiles. Tiles or sheeting which have more pronounced ripples, ridging or waves in them are to be avoided.
- Roof colours should be flat, mid-dark tones and receding. Light and reflective roofs are too visually dominant in the landscape.
- Rooflines shall be simple and unified without excessive gables, changes in pitch and in general breaking up of the roof line. The roof line shall read as being a continuation of the predominant horizontal plane in any given location.
- The photos are examples used only to illustrate the points being made.
Logans Beach
Urban Design Guidelines
Connell Wagner
Concrete Masonry vs Bricks
- Flat split face blocks like these read much better than bricks because they are larger, they tend to simplify and unify the structure.
- The colour scheme of the blocks and trim is too light.
Design Guidelines
Building Form, Colour & Material
A good example of a contemporary building style
- Simple lines - long, low and compact.
- Dark trim and glazed windows read as simple blocks.
- Absence of unnecessary detailing.
- Low impact detailing reads as a subtle variation to the building line.
An example of what would be poor design if it was to be at Logans Beach. Fine here but not at Logans Beach
- Garage doors are too dominant in form and should be dark in colour.
- In this context, the top storey roof pitch is inappropriate.
- White concrete crossovers are to be avoided.
- Aluminium windows look better in a dark trim or when placed in a larger window frame.
‘Light Trim’ is too visible
- Clearly visible verandah posts are too prominent.
- The trim surrounding the dormer windows including the timber construction should be similar in colour to the rest thus receding back into the building.
Avoid
- The building is too large and bulky.
- The concertina roof line and chimney has no relationship to the surrounding topography and lacks visual cohesion.
Logans Beach
Urban Design Guidelines
The Homestead Look
• Overall this site presents sympathetic siting and design
• However, the roof line is too steep
Contemporary homestead
• Mottled bricks provide more character than flat brown bricks
• The roof pitch is ideal, including the bullnose (which are often overdone). However, the roof colour is too intrusive
• The detailing on the verandah posts is simple and effective
• The colour scheme for windows and trims are good
Older Style Farmhouse
• The pitch is too steep and light roof colours are inappropriate
• Slightly bowed verandah roofs like this one are preferable to the full rounded bullnose style
Farmhouse with steepout
• Detailing is too elaborate
• Chimneys should be low key in visually exposed locations
• Ensure that trim is dark and consistently uniform
Entrances, Driveways and Fences
- Entrances to properties are to be low key and recede into the landscape.
- Fences in visible locations such as the entrance hall be open in character. Fences which are not able to be seen through are generally unacceptable.
- Fences where used should be constructed of soft, woody materials such as brushwood as opposed to formal brick or masonry.
- Fences should be rural in character with post and rail.
- Fences should be built to a maximum height of 1.5M in areas where views are predominant.
- Open fences are preferable to solid fences.
- Fences on hillsides which are clearly visible to off-site viewers are discouraged. If used they should be open weave and minimalist in appearance.
- Driveway materials shall be:
- dark in colour
- preferably porous - gravels
- fine grade bitumen, black or dark brown
- coloured concrete, black or dark brown
- The use of white concrete is to be minimised because of its colour and tendency to stand out.
- The visibility off-site of artificial lighting for tennis courts and other structures with similar lighting requirements is to be minimised.
- Picket fences, formal masonry fences are generally too suburban and out of context with the semi-rural, natural environment which these guidelines encourage.
Design Guidelines
Entrances, Driveways & Fences
2 rail timber fence with gateway
- 3 rail fences are preferable
- The simple gateway "arch" provides character and definition
3 rail fences are preferable
- The simple gateway "arch" provides character and definition
Galvanised gates
- Low-key gate is low maintenance and in keeping with character
5 rail timber fence with galvanised gate
- 5 rails is probably too many as they can block views
- Galvanised gates are practical and add character (refer photo no. 44)
Concrelll "timber look" fences
A 3 rail fence would be more appropriate proportionally in this setting
- The darker colours are preferable to the traditional white shown in photo no. 46
3 rail timber fence
- Good height, proportion and weathered finish is sympathetic and in character
3 rail concrete "timber look" fence
- A darker coloured fence would be more suitable. This fence can also be used as entrance markers
Logans Beach
Urban Design Guidelines
Connell Wagner
An excellent example of a contemporary version of an old style fence
- The character, proportions, material finish and detailing create a suitable character
Timber post with galvanised plumbers pipe as a top rail
- This is a simple effective fence with wire strands
- A variation on this theme is suitable to entrances etc
Timber post and top rail with wire strands
- Another effective fence with wire strands but with a different character
Timber bollard with chain
- Simple solid timber bollards could also be used as boundary and entrance markers
An excellent example of desirable character, materials and suitable plant species
- The entrance fence is low-key, open, post and rail, natural and rural in character
- The driveway is low-key and meandering
- The vegetation is native, coastal and provides good screening
- Gravel is a suitable material; yet the colour red is too obtrusive
- The whole composition is balanced, informal and resolved
Hopkins Point Road
- This imposing entrance style requires additional vegetation to soften the visual impact
- The visual impact of this entrance could be framed with additional vegetation
Close up of photo no. 50
- The attention to detail here provides visual interest and rustic character
- The (hand crafted) gate reads as being authentic (but perhaps a little too elaborate)
Bagged fence with oxide (for colour)
- Although the colour here is too intense, this oxide colour is an ideal finish
An excellent example of native species and a more natural look - Logans Beach
- This low key entrance with the building is effectively screened from the roadway.
- Variation in height and character of vegetation should be promoted throughout the Logans Beach area. Some thought needs to be given to where taller species are planted in order to maintain views.
These species would be an excellent choice for low screening, particularly where access to views is important.
- Taller trees should be planted at intervals and in more sheltered locations.
Local Road - Logans Beach
- Vegetation acts as a screen, fence and creates a defining character for a neighbourhood.
- All new and existing developments in Logans Beach should follow this example of streetscape where possible.
Vegetation
- Wind buffers are advisable.
- Boundaries for all developments to be vegetated.
- Vegetation is to be used to form a visual screen between properties.
- Vegetation both existing and proposed must not impact on important views.
- In general vegetation which at maturity is 1.5m high will form a privacy screen.
- Where possible indigenous vegetation should be used.
- Natural vegetation should be disturbed as little as possible.
- Natural vegetation should be encouraged and extensive planting of indigenous species should occur around developments and existing properties.
- Permanent structures should not be located on or adjacent to foredunes, unstable or mobile soils.
- Species selection should be drawn from: Conservation and Natural Resources - South West Coastal Planting List. This is available from the Regional Coastal Office of The Department of Natural Resources and Environment 78 Henna Street, Telephone - 03 5561 9900.
Red Gums
- Plantings of River Red Gums and other suitable large trees should be planted at Logans Beach.
- Ideally plant them in small drifts
* Refer to next page for acceptable list of vegetation
### Design Guidelines
#### Vegetation
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Genus species</th>
<th>Common name</th>
<th>Height, Spread</th>
<th>Salt/Wind Tolerance</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td><strong>Trees</strong></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Acacia dealbata</td>
<td>Silver Wattle</td>
<td><7m x 4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Acacia longifolia var. sophorae</td>
<td>Coast Wattle</td>
<td><5m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Acacia mearnsii</td>
<td>Late Black Wattle</td>
<td><10m x 4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Acacia melanoxylon</td>
<td>Blackwood</td>
<td><20m x 4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Allocasuarina verticillata</td>
<td>Drooping she-oak</td>
<td><8m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Banksia marginata</td>
<td>Silver banksia</td>
<td>3-7m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bursaria spinosa</td>
<td>Sweet bursaria</td>
<td><6m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Exocarpos cupressiformis</td>
<td>Cherry ballart</td>
<td>3-8m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Eucalyptus ovata</td>
<td>Swamp gum</td>
<td><15m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Eucalyptus viminalis</td>
<td>Manna gum</td>
<td><40m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Leptospermum lanigerum</td>
<td>Woolly tea-tree</td>
<td><5m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Myoporum insulare</td>
<td>Boobie bush</td>
<td><6m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Melaleuca lanceolata</td>
<td>Moonah</td>
<td><6m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>** Shrubs - taller than 2m **</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Acacia stricta</td>
<td>Hopt Wattle</td>
<td><3m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Acacia verticillata</td>
<td>Prickly moses</td>
<td><3m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Casuarina paludosa</td>
<td>Scrub she-oak</td>
<td><3m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Hakea ulicina</td>
<td>Furze hakea</td>
<td>1-3m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Helichrysum dendroideum</td>
<td>Tree everlasting</td>
<td><3m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Helichrysum paralium</td>
<td>Coast everlasting</td>
<td><2.5m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Leucopogon virgatus</td>
<td>Common beard-heath</td>
<td>3-8m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Leptospermum juniperum</td>
<td>Prickly Tea-tree</td>
<td><1m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Leptospermum scaparium</td>
<td>Manuka</td>
<td><2m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Myoporum viscum</td>
<td>Sticky boobie bush</td>
<td><2m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Olearia axillaris</td>
<td>Coast daisy-bush</td>
<td><1.5m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Pultanea daphnoides</td>
<td>Large-leaff bush-pea</td>
<td><2m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Senecio lactus</td>
<td>Variable groundsel</td>
<td><1m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Tomasia petalocalyx</td>
<td>Paper flower</td>
<td><1m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>** Shrubs - <2m height **</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Alyxia buxifolia</td>
<td>Sea Box</td>
<td>1-2m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Acacia mitchelli</td>
<td>Mitchell's wattle</td>
<td><1m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Calocephalus brownii</td>
<td>Cushion bush</td>
<td><1m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Correa alba</td>
<td>White Correa</td>
<td><.5m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Correa reflexa</td>
<td>Common Correa</td>
<td>1-2m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Dillwynia glaberrima</td>
<td>Healthy parrot pea</td>
<td><2m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Exocarpos syricola</td>
<td>Coast ballart</td>
<td>1-2m x 1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Epacris impressa</td>
<td>Common Heath</td>
<td><1m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Isopogon ceratophyllus</td>
<td>Horned cone-bush</td>
<td><6m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Lasiopetalum baueri</td>
<td>Slender velvet-bush</td>
<td><1m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Leucopogon virgatus</td>
<td>Common beard-heath</td>
<td><.8m x 2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Lucania ovata</td>
<td>Oval-leaf Logania</td>
<td><1m x 3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Tetragonia implexicoma</td>
<td>Bower spinach</td>
<td>Trailing climber</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
*Salt/Wind Tolerance*
- **Group 1** - Hardest and recommended for exposed sites
- **Group 2** - Will withstand conditions of severe exposure
- **Group 3** - Will withstand moderate exposure, ie where some protection from more tolerant vegetation is available
- **Group 4** - Will withstand slight exposure, ie where a fairly dense belt of vegetation is on the seaward side
---
**Ground Cover**
- Astroloma humifusum | Cranberry heath | 2m x 2
- Baeckea ramosissima | Rosy Heath Myrtle | 2
- Goodenia lanata | Trailing Goodenia | .1m x 2
- Hibbertia aspera | Rough guinea-flower | .3-.5m x 2
- Hibbertia fasciculata | Bundled guinea flower | .2-.4m x 2
- Kennedia prostrata | Running postman | .1-.2m x 2
- Scaevola pallida | Coast fan-flower | 2
---
**Logans Beach Urban Design Guidelines**
---
**Connell Wagner**
Signage
- Signage for Logans Beach could be improved. There is no warning for drivers as they approach the area. This is potentially dangerous to visitors unfamiliar with the area.
- Signage for Hopkins Point Road is clearly lacking and provides poor orientation for visitors.
- Both signs are poorly sited, thus reducing visibility for motorists.
The following signs should be created and or upgraded:
- Clear directional signage to and from Warrnambool
- Clear directional signage to and from the whale watching area. This signage needs to be placed along the main transport corridors into the site.
- Whale Watching Area visitor signage including information on facilities, tracks, connections to other public land in the area, regulations, interpretive information about whales.
- Warrnambool City entrance and exit signs on Hopkins Point Road.
- Hopkins River sign.
- Access points to and from public reserves along the waterfront.
- A storage strategy needs to be undertaken for the Warrnambool area.
Signage should follow the:
- Guidelines for Tourist and Service Signing in Victoria
- Warrnambool City Council's Tourism and Service Signage Guidelines.
Green signs provide directions to towns and cities, facilitating traffic movement in the safest and most direct way. Most include reference to the State's new route numbering system, which now makes it easier to direct visitors to destinations and attractions.
Brown tourist attraction signs indicate features and tourist attractions of significant recreation and cultural interest. Gateway signs, erected at or near the entry points of a city, town or geographic region, can also provide motorists with information about key local tourist themes, tourist attractions and tourist drives. A gateway sign can also include a row of white on blue symbols to denote the availability of services, including visitor information.
Tourist attraction signs and route markers may be used along tourist drives to fulfil the role of advance, intersection and reassurance signs and as a substitute for more complex and costly tourist signing. If the entry to a tourist attraction cannot be made obvious from signing within the property line, position signs are placed to indicate the point of entry.
Illustration of an Integrated Tourist Signing Scheme
Red Cliffs Tourist Drive
How to get there
Follow the green direction signs with route numbers to the nearest destination (Red Cliffs), then follow the brown tourist signs to the attractions. It's that easy!!
Tourist drives to Logans Beach and the Wild Coast need to be marked in this fashion.
Entrance and exit signs to Wamambool are needed at the city boundary at Logans Beach.
Hopkins Point Road
- Hopkins Point Road is identified as a main avenue and a possible extension to the Great Ocean Road.
- Revegetation and appropriate signage is required to accentuate this role.
- Trees should be planted at either irregular intervals or widely spaced apart regular intervals to allow view through to Logans Beach for both motorists and property owners.
- Vegetation below trees should not exceed 1.5 metres in height.
- Signage to the whale watching area to be increased in size and updated.
- Signage to Warrnambool to be improved.
- Signage should follow a strategy for the region. Eg Victorian Signage Strategy
- Guidelines for Tourist and Services signing in Victoria
- Warrnambool City Council's Tourism and Service Signage Guidelines
- A revegetation scheme should be developed for road corridors in conjunction with that for public land for the Logans Beach area.
Design Guidelines
Whale Watching Area
- The location and layout of the whale watching area and principle viewing platform should formalised and made clear.
- All structures in this site should comply with these guidelines.
- The carpark should be clearly defined and fenced.
- Carparking bays should be marked via concrete stop blocks or similar.
- The surface of the carpark should be porous compacted gravel or similar.
- Boundary fencing should be in line with that used to restrict public access to the dunes.
- Signs should follow the Victorian Signage Strategy by Tourism Victoria and Warrnambool City Council's Tourism and Service Signage Guidelines
- Provide additional facilities such as water, toilets, seating, shelter, railing that acts as camera support ledges etc.
- Provide interpretative information about whales - possibly via etched metal or plastic inserts.
- Revegetate the carpark with species which will not (at maturity) achieve a height above the top of the foredune.
- Extensive clearing at Logans Beach has created an exposed and barren landscape
- Revegetation is required throughout the area to provide wind buffers and visual screening
Whale Beach Carpark
View to Astbury Land "Hill Site"
How to use these Guidelines
The Warmambool Planning Scheme requires all dwellings in the Logans Beach area to obtain a planning permit. These guidelines are the description of what issues will be considered in assessing any permit application in this area.
This written document is only part of the guidelines. The other element is a computer model of the Logans Beach landscape, which will be used to assess any application for development in the area.
The proposed process is to read these guidelines, and if a permit is required to visit Warmambool City Council and consult the Planning Section over using the computer model, as both an aide to design, and to assess likely impacts.
Computer Model
The model is based on a contour map of Logans Beach. It enables a proposed dwelling to be placed in a landscape at the proposed size, including height and bulk. The view of this from any relevant point can be seen from the model, and the view of any surrounding point from the proposed dwelling can be shown.
The model will assist in:
- Sight lines, from and to the site
- Appropriate use of contours
- Views of adjoining properties
- Assist in planning landscaping
- Accurately depict the size and bulk of a proposal
The model is an essential component in the guidelines. It will be used to assess a development application for compliance with these guidelines. It is to your advantage to make use of the model to assist in developing an best practice design for your proposed development. |
Armenian Genocide Art as Evidence of its Existence
Jacqueline N. Kachadourian
Binghamton University, jkachad1@binghamton.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://orb.binghamton.edu/alpenglowjournal
Recommended Citation
This Academic Paper is brought to you for free and open access by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). It has been accepted for inclusion in Alpenglow: Binghamton University Undergraduate Journal of Research and Creative Activity by an authorized editor of The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). For more information, please contact ORB@binghamton.edu.
Abstract
This paper explores the relationship between art and the Armenian Genocide, and how art can be used as evidence for the traumatic past of the Armenian people that was a result of these catastrophic events. Specifically, I will explore how certain visual art pieces contribute to the existence of the Armenian Genocide. The artwork created by survivors and descendants of the Armenian Genocide provide examples with what the Armenian people endured in order to survive the Ottoman ‘Turks’ attempt to annihilate them. The Armenian Genocide has yet to be recognized as a genocide by many countries and has been denied of its existence by the Turkish government. However, the preservation of art surrounding the topic of the Armenian Genocide rejects the attempt to remove the Armenian Genocide from history, and ultimately sheds light on this neglected moment in history.
Keywords: Armenian Genocide, The Ottoman Empire, art, genocide, culture, artwork
The artwork from survivors of the Armenian Genocide and their descendants can be used as evidence that the Armenian people suffered through great tragedies and atrocities that were a result of the Armenian Genocide. Artwork created by the victims of the genocide, as well as by Armenians today who share their families’ genocide stories through their artwork, give proof to the emotional and physical sufferings to the Armenians during 1915-17 and even before. Although Turkey continues to deny that the Armenian Genocide ever occurred, Turkey cannot deny the fact that during 1915, around two million Armenians were forced to leave their homeland. Over 1.5 million Armenians perished at the hands of the Turks. Additionally, because of the geopolitical relations involved, it would be very difficult to get any sort of recognition for the Armenian people (Suny, 2016). The criteria for what is considered to be a genocide fits with what the Ottoman Turks did against the Armenian people, as indicated below:
1 In the 1948 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide Convention, genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group, as such:
a. Killing members of the group;
b. Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
c. Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;
The Turkish government intended ‘to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such’; its agents ‘kill(ed) members of the (Armenian) group’, ‘caus(ed) serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group’, and ‘deliberately inflict(ed) on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part. (I. 2014, 236)
Although Turkey might deny what happened, and despite other countries not speaking about this topic because of the geopolitical climate, there is no denying that through artwork, there is evidence that the Armenian people went through horrific tragedies which, ultimately, supports the existence of the Armenian Genocide.
The tension between the Armenians and the Turks has been around long before the Armenian Genocide occurred. The Armenians occupied the area in and surrounding the Ottoman Empire since prior to the first century C.E. According to Cohan, the Armenians get their name from “Hayastan,” “which comes from the name Haik, a descendent of Noah … and “stan,” which means “land” in Persian (Cohan 2005, p.333). The Armenian people are very religious Christians, as they were the first nation to become Christian (Cohan, 2005). There were many Muslim groups living in the same area that the Armenian people occupied, causing the Armenians to face many hardships throughout the centuries. Some of the earliest massacres of the Armenian people date back to 1453, when the Seljuk Turks took control of Anatolia, once part of Armenia, and founded the Ottoman Empire (Cohan, 2005). The Christian Armenians were oftentimes oppressed by various Muslim groups because they made up the minority in the Ottoman Empire region. As a result, the Armenian people had more taxes and laws placed upon them that restricted them, as compared to the Turks. Additionally, because of the relationship between the Armenians and the Russians, the Ottoman Turks saw Armenians as a threat, which
---
d. *Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;* (e) *Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.*
was a catalyst for tensions between the two groups that eventually led to the Armenian Genocide (Cohan, 2005).
The beginning stages of the Armenian Genocide began with the massacres in 1894 through 1896. These killings were known as the Hamidian Massacres, during which 100,000 to 300,000 Armenians were killed. This mass murder occurred under the control of Abdul-Hamid II, who ordered these killings to punish the protests of the Armenians as a response to the discriminatory laws that they were being subjected to. In order to survive, Armenians either had to flee to continental Europe or the United States, or convert to Islam (Cohan, 2005). These massacres were brought to the attention of many countries that were not a part of the Ottoman Empire thanks to the hundreds of thousands of unarmed Armenians who were obliterated by the Ottoman Turks without hesitation. These past mass killings of Armenians at the hands of the Ottoman Turks ultimately led to the greatest massacre of all, the Genocide in 1915.
The annihilation of the Armenian people that began in 1915 didn’t happen by accident, as some may say. Since the climate of wartime was so rare, the Turkish government needed to take advantage of the setting of World War I in order to take care of problems they were having in various areas under their rule (Matosyan, 2014). Evidence for these claims are stated below:
A collection of documents published in 1919 by Dr. Johannes Lepsius contains German Ambassador Hans von Wangerheim’s report (Constantinople, June 17, 1915) to Chancellor Theobold von Bethmann-Hollweg on this subject ‘Recently, Minister of Interior Talaat Bey has unequivocally stated to Dr. Mordtman-who currently works at the Imperial Embassy-that the Turkish government wishes to take advantage of the war and completely settle the scores with its domestic enemies (local Christians), without having any disturbing diplomatic intervention on the past of foreign states’(Matosyan 2014, 293)
The Ottoman Empire entered World War I and fought against the Russians, however they were defeated by the Russians in 1914. Ottoman Turks used the Armenians as scapegoats, blaming them for their defeat in the war. The Turks saw the Armenians as a threat and wanted to get rid
of them. A small group of Ottoman politicians, known as the “Young Turks” created this idea of nationalist thinking to start (‘Turkification’ of the Ottoman Empire). The “Young Turks” who were involved in the attacks against the Armenians were Ottoman reformers or modernizers (Matosyan, 2014). They wanted to preserve their Turkish heritage, and get rid of anything, or anyone, that might stand in the way of this goal (Suny, 2016). In order for their power to remain within the Turkish society, they used a number of political techniques, including violence, as Suny states: “Violence was inscribed in the Young Turks efforts to survive in power and secure the empire” (Suny 2016, p.211). One of the great foreshadowing moments of the events that would occur later on was the disarming of the Armenian soldiers, who were one of the first groups of Armenians to be systematically killed by the Turks. Furthermore, on April 24th, 1915 the removal of Armenian intellectuals and political leaders from Istanbul began to commence and they were later murdered by Turkish authorities led to a disappearance of Armenian strength and knowledge, leaving many hopeless (Suny, 2016).
This led to the mass killing and migration of the Armenian people during the time period of 1915 to 1917 which left over 1.5 million Armenians left dead in the deserts in the Middle East. Many people witnessed the horrific tragedies carried out by the Turks, including the U.S. Ambassador Henry Morgenthau which he states in his memoirs:
> At Angora all Armenian men from fifteen to seventy were arrested, bound together in groups of four, and sent on the road in the direction of Caesare. When they had traveled five or six hours and had reached a secluded valley, a mob of Turkish peasants fell upon them with clubs, hammers, axes, scythes, spades, and saws. Such instruments not only caused more agonizing deaths than guns and pistols, but, as the Turks themselves boasted, they were more economical, since they didn’t involve the waste of powder and shell. (Matosyan: 2014, 295)
In addition, Turkish people used suffocation methods in order to be economic and smart with their time. For example, there were multiple times where Turkish authorities would put
Armenians in an enclosed space and covered the door with straw and set the space on fire so that the Armenians would suffocate. It was even witnessed from Aram Andonian (Antonyan), who wrote that he saw 1,500 Armenian orphans given to a local official, Ahmad Bey. He put the orphans in a cave and covered the front with wet hay, then set the cave on fire. Thus, the orphans died from suffocation (Matosyan, 2014).
Along with the physical damage caused by the Ottoman Turks, there was, and still is, psychological damage caused by the Armenian Genocide. Whether the damage is from someone who physically went through the Genocide, or decedents of family members who went through it, the psychological damage will always follow the Armenian people (Kay 2015). Avi Kay points out the various psychological issues that have occurred as a result of the Armenian Genocide and how little research has gone into this field. However, from what little research that was conducted, he brings up some main points about what the Armenian people went through during the Genocide and what the Armenian people are still going through today because of these horrific events. One thing that contributes to this psychosocial damage is how the Genocide is still being denied by many countries, including Turkey and the United States. Ellie Wiesel stated: “[the] continued Turkish denial of the Armenian Genocide can be viewed as a double killing of the victims,” causing damage to not only the people affected by Genocide but the modern Armenian people (Kay 2015, p.114). The Turkish Government has, and still is, lobbying many countries to deny the occurrence of the Armenian Genocide.
As years pass, more and more evidence proving the occurrence of the Armenian Genocide is disappearing from the public’s eye. One of the countries that has been under the influence of Turkey is the United States. Although the United States has recognized the Armenian Genocide as such, there is still a sense of quietness that remains with this historic
moment. Orwell stated, “Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind,” which then causes problems and catastrophes all over the world (Orwell, 1946, p.10). Ultimately, because of the political relationship between Turkey and many other powerful countries, the public are often unaware what the Armenian Genocide is and its brutal history. Since little physical evidence left proof of the Armenian Genocide, the castastrophe should be recognized by powerful countries so that this piece of human history doesn’t get buried in obscurity forever.
One of the most important things that can be used as evidence that the Armenian people suffered great loss and devastation from the Armenian Genocide is the artwork that came from the people who survived the tragedy, as well as contemporary artists who have heard stories that came from previous generations. Art is a vital way to understand the past and is one of the ways to understand what happened in the past without actually being there. There are many depictions in art that give viewers a way to see what happened in the lives of the artists. The color, style, technique and items or people within the scene being depicted are all resources for the viewer to use in order to understand the artist’s story. This art is a way for the viewer to understand what the artist endured throughout their life (The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2012). This is especially relevant for artists who went through some form of trauma. In many cases, distraught artists cannot verbally talk about their experiences because it causes them too much distress. This idea becomes very critical after the Armenian Genocide when people could not share what they experience during that time. Many stories of what happened during the Armenian Genocide were lost from generation to generation because of the fear that various horrors might be brought up if these stories were to be shared. Thus, art is one of the only ways for people to learn about the experiences of various Armenians who went through the Genocide.
There were many orphans who survived the Armenian Genocide. These orphans moved to all different parts of the world, many of these orphans were not able to discuss with anyone what they experienced during this time period. These events were too brutal for them to choose to actively think about. Many of them personally witnessed what the Ottoman Turks did to their families, but they were too scared to share their stories (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). However, art was one way through which these Armenian survivors could document the trauma that they experienced. Art allowed for the survivors to communicate what they went through without speaking a word. They did not have to explain their art, but it still gave them a voice with which to share the horrible actions of the Ottoman Turks. The artwork created by the survivors of the Armenian Genocide is one of the most important forms of evidence supporting the fact that Armenian people suffered through great cataclysm in order to preserve their culture and beliefs against the Ottoman Turks. Since most of the survivors of the Armenian Genocide are no longer alive today, there are not many people left with firsthand experiences that they can share as evidence to support the Genocide occurrence (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). Nevertheless, the artwork created from these Genocide survivors helps to keep their stories alive and brings truth to what really happened during this time period.
One person that witnessed the massacres of the Genocide is named Léon Tutundjian. Tutundjian was only a boy when he witnessed the Armenian Genocide firsthand and escaped his homeland in order to survive. He later moved to Paris, where he studied art and became a famous artist. Like many other survivors of the Armenian Genocide, he never verbally talked about his experiences, but he was able to express what he experienced through art (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014).
The idea of the Trauma Theory helps describe the art created by Tutundjian and how it relates to his experiences from the Genocide (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). Trauma Theory is a way to understand the past with a psychoanalytical approach (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). Alice Miller, a psychoanalyst for Trauma Theory has found connections between young children who are faced with horrific events and their artwork as adults. Miller says, “the works of writers, poets, and painters tell the encoded story of childhood traumas no longer consciously remembered in adulthood” (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.123).
Many of the pieces that Tutundjian made were self-portraits, which symbolized the trauma he encountered when he was a child, and he was forced to leave his mother and homeland behind. Additionally, his work contained very little information about the background of the Genocide, which could explain his disassociation with the world after the Genocide. It is believed that Tutundjian changed his style multiple times throughout his 1000 pieces, because he was looking for something that could express what he was feeling inside, his “internal misery” (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.123). These changes in his artwork may have allowed him to better cope with the tragedies that he experienced during the genocide.
The way Tutundjian’s self-portraits were designed correlates with the idea of the loss of identity that he went through during the Armenian Genocide. The loss of identity was something that many Armenians who survived the Armenian Genocide felt. For example, one of the most important things to the Armenian people is their Christianity: “In 301 AD, Armenia became the first nation to adopt Christianity as a state religion, establishing a church that still exists independently of both the Roman Catholic and the Eastern Orthodox churches. During its later political eclipses, Armenia depended on the church to preserve and protect its unique identity”
One of the many things that was taken from the Armenians during the Genocide was their land, which included the sacred churches that are very significant in the Armenian heritage (I., 2014). This left the survivors unconnected with their surroundings, especially for Tutundjian, as this becomes an important theme in his pieces and helps give the viewer a look into his life after the horrific events.
Surrealism was a useful art style that worked for Tutundjian, since he experienced such horrific events at such a young age. This is because the movement deals with the “dreams and the unconscious,” which could have allowed him to address the events he went through that his conscious mind wouldn’t let him speak about. Psychoanalyst Alice Miller states that “whenever creative adults have been traumatized as children, evidence of their ordeal will be apparent in their artwork,” which correlates with Trauma Theory (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014 p.123). Miller also believes that painters often tell the story of their childhood trauma that they can’t consciously remember as an adult through their work. Freud’s repetition theory, which is when a repeated image is used that makes the person return back to scene of the trauma, is evident in Tutundjian’s self-portraits as a young boy which could be an association of him working through the trauma he experienced as a child (Hovannisian, 2014, cited in Murachanian, 2009). The artwork created by Tutundjian told the story of what he went through and how he has coped with his emotions. Some examples include how he only used parts of his body which could symbolize how nothing is whole for him after what he had experienced. Additionally, his backgrounds usually contained nothing as if it was an oblivion and it didn’t exist, which could relate to the detachment of his relationships. Finally, the way “he portrays himself reveals a psyche that is fractured and disconnected from himself and the world around him” (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.124). This is evident in his piece Yellow.
Mask c. 1930 (see Appendix A), where he is seen secluded from the rest of the trees in the image, which could imply that he was alone and disconnected from the world around him. In most of his work all of these symbolisms are evident, even when he gets to his final stages of being an artist. One self-portrait, Untitled c.1965 (see Appendix B) in particular showed this same style, however this image formed a smile, which could symbolize that he will always have the pain of the Armenian Genocide with him but he worked through most of his pain thus creating a smile (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.138). Ultimately, Tutundjian created his art with a purpose, to spread awareness of what he went through as a child and the struggles he faced thanks to the Armenian Genocide.
Arshile Gorky was another artist who experienced the Armenian Genocide firsthand and became an artist later on in his life as a way to express what he went through. Gorky was forced to leave his home behind because of the Armenian Genocide. Gorky was displaced from his home in Armenia and relocated to America, “the verb ‘displace’ implies movement by external force, whether removal from a place or the act of replacing” (Theriault, 2009, p.14). This was because “the Armenians were driven off their ancestral lands, which were then reoccupied by Muslims from Turkey and the Islamic world” (Theriault, 2009, p.14). Gorky’s work, especially those made during the abstract period, created a “displacing effect for the viewer” (Theriault, 2009, p.14). Ultimately, the story he told in his work leaves a puzzling feeling on the viewers, which reflects the deeper emotion and themes he experienced as a result of the Genocide in his work.
One of the main contributing factors of the Armenian Genocide was the relationship between Turkey and Armenia, which was very tense as a result of the Turks often taking over the Armenian homeland. Furthermore, the religious difference between the two people led to the
Turks boost in nationalism and “economic unrest” (Theriault, 2009, p.14). Additionally, before the 1915 genocide, “Armenian communities were victimized through exclusionary government policies, theft, murder, rape, and kidnapping by Turkish soldiers, citizens and bands of nomadic Kurds and included political oppression of Armenians by the Ottoman Empire from 1894 to 1896, when two hundred thousand Armenians were killed” (Theriault, 2009, p.15). Gorky had firsthand experience with the Armenian Genocide. He fled along with his two older sisters, his mother, and his younger sister. They all ended up in the eastern most region of the Armenian kingdom, which at that time was under the control of the Soviet Union. Gorky’s father, Setrag, came to America before the rest of his family sent just enough money for Gorky’s two older sisters to come to America. Gorky’s mother ended up dying in 1919 from starvation, thanks to the Turkish blockade of Armenian food supply from the west (Theriault, 2009). In March 1920, Gorky and his younger sister finally arrived in America on the SS President Wilson. Once he reunited with his family, he ended up becoming estranged from them. Theriault believed, “Gorky may have been angry that his father had, from his son’s point of view, allowed his family members to suffer and in particular his mother to die” (Theriault, 2009, p.16). Trauma theory as described by Dominick LaCapra can help give an explanation for Gorky’s hardships with his family. Often Gorky would demonstrate how important his Armenian heritage was to him through his paintings. Ultimately, the trauma that Gorky experienced as a result of the Armenian Genocide shaped his life in such a way that his artwork is a representation of his experiences.
One of the most famous pieces created by Gorky is a painting entitled The Artist and his Mother c.1936 (see Appendix C), a replica of a portrait of him and his mother taken in his homeland of Armenia. To the viewer, the piece appears as if it is fading, just like his mother was
fading from his memory at the time the painting was created (Gotthardt, 2018). In an interview done with Gorky, in 1945, The Museum of Modern Art asked:
“What in your ancestry, nationality, or background do you consider relevant to an understanding of your art?” Gorky’s answer credited only his childhood, and the memories of Armenia that continued to fill his mind: “I was taken away from my little village when I was five years old yet all my vital memories are of these first years,” he wrote. “These were the days when I smelled the bread, I saw my first red poppy, the moon, the innocent seeing. Since then these memories have become iconography, the shapes, even the colors; millstone, red earth, yellow wheatfield, apricots etc. (Gotthardt 2018)
This piece carries the various emotions that Gorky experienced as a child and how he faced the hardships of the Genocide. Within the piece there are a number of connections that relate to the experiences that Gorky went through during Armenian Genocide. The loss of his mother and the vanishing memory of her connect to the figures in the painting. The two figures in the painting seem disconnected from each other, as the child appears more further back than the mother. Additionally, the unfinished hands within each of the figures suggest that neither of them can connect with each other after his mother died of starvation during the genocide leaving Gorky alone to survive (Arshile Gorky the Artist and His Mother.). The experiences that Gorky had to overcome and the work he created from these catastrophes is proof of the Armenian Genocide. The evidence is justified in his work and the need to exhibit why he created what he did. His pieces tell the story of the damage caused by the Ottoman Turks, the disruptive and cruel actions that are embedded in the Armenian people forever.
Additionally, Gorky expressed himself through Surrealism. This art movement allowed him to express what was on his mind at a subconscious level. In his piece Agony c.1947 (see Appendix D), the traumatic memories he experienced as a child in his homeland of Armenia are apparent. The colors, textures and forms used in this painting depicts a sorrowful scene that
Gorky himself is contained in (Museum of Modern Art). The emotion behind this piece reveals the truth that had been concealed by the Turkish government. The truth behind the starvation, rape and countless murders were all buried away in the desert, just like the innocent bodies of the Armenian people who perished during the Armenian Genocide. The experiences of the survivors of this horrific Genocide have forever been embedded in their brains, which is the proof of the destruction of the Armenian people ordered by the Turkish government.
There were many Armenians who left their homeland in order to survive the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Diaspora was thus developed, and new traditions were formed outside of the traditional ways of Armenian life. Many Armenians who survived the Genocide came to the United States to seek a new life outside their detrimental past (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). Today, many Armenian Americans still find it necessary to bring about the experiences their people and families went through in order to try to keep their culture alive.
One outlet for contemporary Armenians whose families went through the Armenian Genocide is creating artwork. Ramil Grigorian Abbamontian states: “for Armenian Americans, the Genocide adds up to more than a historical tragedy; it remains the shaping event of their lives, and the reason they came to fashion a new life on a new continent. To ask that they forget is to ask them to forget who they are” (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.177). The Armenians who survived the Genocide had to leave their homes and come to new countries, one of which was the United States of America. Armenian Americans came together to form a strong bond based on what they went through prior to leaving their native land. In modern time, artists are still communicating what happened to the Armenian people through their work, but there are questions that are brought about from this. For Armenian descendants who create art based on the Armenian Genocide but was not physically alive or present during Armenian
Genocide: “is it even possible to represent such a catastrophe and, more significantly, can it be represented by artists who have not experienced it firsthand?” (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.177). How does one represent something that is so traumatic through art? And how does the Genocide effect these contemporary artists and their artwork? Although these artists didn’t experience the genocide firsthand, they are witnesses of the aftermath of the genocide and how it has effected their families and those that they know who did live through it. Furthermore, Abbamontian states that “their works articulates the testimony of the Genocide and necessarily transform viewers into witnesses as well, confirming the reality of this event and preventing it from vanishing into oblivion” (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, 2014, p.178). In other words, the work created by the Armenian people helps to tell the stories of their families and what truly happened in 1915. These artworks depict what the Ottoman Turks did, and the reality of the mass murder that the Armenian people went through.
One of the many symbols in contemporary artists’ works is the need for political and social justice for the Armenian people. The Turkish denial of the Armenian Genocide and their lobbying for other countries to do the same has activated within these artists a creative mindset (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). Descendants of survivors of the Armenian Genocide find it necessary to bring about the justice deserved by their families. The tragedies that the Armenians faced in the early 20th century goes unrecognized by the public. In order to heal from these horrific events, the Armenian people must first get the recognition of others for what they went through (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). For this to happen, Armenian artists have created bold statements within their work for this message to be understood.
Zareh is one artist that has fueled his work with the anger felt over the fact that the Armenian Genocide has been denied by so many people for so long, and denying the Genocide and its survivors with the necessary recognition. His family experienced the Genocide firsthand. Many of his family members perished in the Genocide, including his paternal grandfather Ohaness, who was shot in the head by Turkish soldiers before his body was dumped into a hole with other helpless bodies (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, 2007). One of his installations, *Turkish Soup Made with Armenian Bones* c.1998 (See Appendix E), referenced the disgrace acts committed by the Ottoman Turks. Depicted in this piece of work was a “middle-aged man, clad in traditional Turkish costume and fez, [who] operates a push-cart bearing the title words with ‘bones’ mixed in ‘blood’ visible through the transparent container atop the square base marked with the inscription, ‘Approved by U.N.’” (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.179). This installation was put in many different locations around the busy streets of California, in order to shock the most viewers as possible. This piece of work not only described what happened to the Armenian people in 1915, but also what is currently happening to them in modern times. The Ottoman Turks got away with murder, and the United Nations has done nothing, and is doing nothing, about it (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). This piece depicts the agony and horrors the Armenian people faced during Genocide, as the Armenian people were being carelessly killed and thrown into piles.
Zareh’s ideas for this installation was to bring the public’s attention to the inhumanity of the Armenian Genocide. Zareh’s intention for the audience of this installation was that when people see the installations “they may feel saddened. One of my goals in doing this is I wanted them to think about what has happened, what some humans have done to other people” (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.181). However, many people who viewed
the installation wondered about the ethnicity of the artist, why he created it, and if it in actuality mocked what had happened. Another way of seeing the installation, stating “could Zareh’s anger at the perpetrators’ denial have triggered an unconscious attempt to understand what fuels this type of inhumanity?” (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.181). Ultimately, there were many who criticized and praised this work. Some stated that this piece kept the memory of the Armenian Genocide alive and showed how those who lived through it survived. Others thought that it was a disgusting and confused piece; even some Armenians thought the installation was a disgrace because the Armenians didn’t become the Turks soup (the Armenians weren’t obliterated by the Turks, as planned) but they were able to survive.
In addition, Zareh created the performance *The Red Trees of the Armenian Genocide*. With this piece he was able to answer the question “are there any other witnesses to a genocide that is denied?” (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.182). This piece was performed to share the stories of the Armenian people and what they went through during the Genocide. The performance was in a specific formation that related to the fact that the Turks believe that the deaths of the thousands of Armenians who were killed during the Genocide was “inevitable and (an) unplanned aspect of war” (Hovannisian, 2014, p.182). There was a part of the performance in which everyone came together in a tight circle, which Abbamontian suggests represents Zareh trying to unite with other Americans and protest for what they believe in. Within this performance, the performers are carrying blood-stained branches, which Zareh used to demonstrate the trees as natural symbols of peace but that are now covered in blood to represent the death of the victims. Abbamontian states that “the ill trees become the ‘living’ proof, the natural witnesses, confirming the reality of the Genocide” (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.184). Additionally, the branches could symbolize the land taken from
the Armenian people and who were left with no home and with a fragmented identity. Ultimately, Zareh portrayed works of art that truthfully depicted what happened to the Armenian people in a nouveau and abstract way. Despite his pieces creating controversy, they opened up the eyes of the public to what happened to the Armenian people in 1915 and why it is still being debated of its existence today.
Another contemporary artist whose family was involved in the Armenian Genocide was Alina Mnatsakanian. She created a performance piece entitled *Box/Cross/Dismemberment/Genocide* c.1997 (see Appendix F), which opened the eyes to public about the political problems of the Genocide. This performance starts out with a box unfolding into a cross, including images of Christianity and the importance of the Crucifixion to the Armenian people, which was one of the main causes of the Armenian Genocide. Within each of the sides of this cross, there are old photographs, letters, and cast body fragments that relates to the Armenian Genocide (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). The performance starts out in silence before Mnatsakanian, wearing all black with a red shawl around her neck, emerges and unfolds the box to reveal the cross hidden inside. Within the box, there are candles and seeds. She lights the candles throughout the room and plants the seeds around the opened box. After a moment of silence, Mnatsakanian exits the room, leaving the audience in complete silence (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014).
This performance was intended to shed light on the political situation of the Armenian Genocide rather than to honor the genocide. Mnatsakanian’s uncle, who survived the genocide but witnessed his family’s murder, gave her an understanding for what he went through and put those emotions in her artwork. Mnatsakanian states that “I have something in me, a memory, a scar.” (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014, p.185). This drive in her allowed her to
create performance pieces that starts the conversation of what the Armenian people went through and how the Ottoman Turks got away with murder with no reparations (Abbamontian, 2007, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). Ultimately, the performance recognizes the facts of the events that happened during the time of 1915 through art, which contributes to the evidence of the Armenian Genocide.
Mélik Ohanian a French born artist of Armenian heritage, he is well established within the fine art community. One of his most recent works, created controversy before it was even made. Ohanian was going to create an urban installation within the city of Geneva titled *The Streetlight of Memory*, that would be supported by the Geneva-Armenian community and was to be completed for the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide (Aktar, 2018). Within the design of the lamps there were to be teardrops replacing the ordinary lamp designs, and there were to be Armenian poets’ names engraved on the lamp post itself (Melkonian, 2017). However, the Turkish Lobbyist were against this, since the installation was connected to Armenian community and the Armenian Genocide (Melkonian, 2017). Aktar states:
The first location chosen in the historic centre of Geneva was rejected after numerous objections. The city council hesitated when the Swiss federal government intervened and raised reservations about the next site, in Ariana Park next to the UN. The intervention of the then Turkish Prime Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu and his implicit, customary threats played a role in the federal government’s intervention. The legal hustle and bustle got longer and longer and the monument could not be completed by 2015 (Aktar, 2018).
Because of these resistance by the Turkish government, Ohanian redesigned the installation (see Appendix G) and took it to Venice, Italy, where he took the original streetlamps designs but had them crumbled within one another creating this dismantled chaotic mess (Melkonian, 2017). Although, Ohanian was later able to produce the original design in Geneva, the backlash from the Turkish government provides evidence that they are unwilling to accept the existence of the
Genocide and are threatened by the Armenian community bringing awareness to these unforgettable tragedies.
Overall, the artwork created by Armenian Genocide survivors and their descendants provide evidence for the horrors and devastations the Armenian people went through. Over 1.5 million Armenians perished at the hands of the Ottoman Turks and there can’t be reparations until there is recognition, both of which is rightfully deserved by the Armenian people. The damage caused by the Ottoman Turks is still present today, and as Turkey continues to deny any events relating to the Armenian Genocide there will be increased damage and anger for the Armenian people to face and endure. This anger, sadness and despair is present in the art created by the survivors and their descendants. The memory of what happened to the Armenian people is still embedded within them, and which will never be forgotten (Murachanian, 2009, cited in Hovannisian, 2014). Adolf Hitler once said “Who, after all, speaks today of the annihilation of the Armenians?”, but in fact the plans of the Turks did not succeed. Armenians survived the horrible catastrophes and were able to overcome the adversity.
Art is one of the only ways for Armenians to communicate what happened to their fellow Armenians in 1915. Within the artwork that has been created, there is evidence of the suffering, trauma and grief which was a direct result of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian people deserve recognition and acknowledgement for what they went through and what they are still going through, and this art brings them in the right direction. Art spreads awareness of the inhumane actions performed by the Turks, and these facts will one day be recognized for what they truly were. Until these facts are recognized, descendants of survivors of the Armenian Genocide will continue to spread awareness of what their families and their people have lived through and experienced through the various art pieces and performances that they create.
Appendix
C: The Artist and His Mother c. 1936 by Arshile Gorky. Image source: http://collection.whitney.org/object/2171
D: *Agony* c. 1947 by Arshile Gorky
Image source: http://www.theartstory.org/artist-gorky-arshile-artworks.htm
E: *Turkish Soup Made with Armenian Bones* c. 1998 by Zareh.
Image source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%22Turkish_Soup_Made_With_Armenian_Bones
F: *Box/Cross/Dismemberment/Genocide* c. 1997 by Alina Mnatsakanian
G: *The Streetlight of Memory* c. 2015 by Mélik Ohanian
References
Arshile Gorky *Agony* 1947.
Gotthardt, A. What you need to know about Arshile Gorky, the last surrealist and the first abstract expressionist. Retrieved from https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-arshile-gorky-surrealist-first-abstract-expressionist
People and Historical Highlights. (2005). In Background Notes on Countries of the World: Armenia (pp. 2–3).
|
Research on Landscape Perception and Visual Attributes Based on Social Media Data—A Case Study on Wuhan University
Xia Zhang 1, Danning Xu 1,∗ and Ni Zhang 2
1 School of Urban Design, Wuhan University, Wuhan 430072, China
2 China Machinery International Engineering Design & Research Institute Co., Ltd., Changsha 410007, China
∗ Correspondence: 2015301530121@whu.edu.cn
Abstract: With the rapid rise of social media, the photo-taking behavior of tourists and their uploaded photos provide a new perspective to explore landscape visual characters. In this study, we provide methodological advancements for assessing landscape visual quality based on content analysis of user-generated photographs. The purpose is to demonstrate an empirical method for evaluating visual indicators reflected in photographs through a case study application. This research takes the core cultural landscape area of Wuhan University as the research scope. The photographs shared on a famous Chinese social media platform Sina Weibo during the Cherry Blossom Festival, together with tourists’ trajectory data, were used as data sources. Based on a fixed-point photography experiment, the spatial relationship between the scenic spot and the observation point was illustrated. Utilizing a semi-automatic photo content analysis founded on computer vision technology, landscape visual attributes of each attraction were studied thoroughly regarding complexity, visual scale, and color. The results indicate that the Old Dormitory is the most popular scenic spot with diverse viewing angles, strikingly vivid colors, and rich color combinations. Complexity and color play key roles in landscape visual quality, while the depth of view has a subtle impact, which suggests the depth-to-height ratio of less than 1 is the best distance for viewers to take photographs. In all, the mapping relationship between landscape visual attributes and viewers’ perception was revealed in the present work.
Keywords: landscape visual characters; landscape perception; social media data; computer vision technology; content analysis; photographic behavior
1. Introduction
According to the European Landscape Convention (ELC), “The landscape is part of the land, as perceived by local people or visitors, which evolves through time as a result of being acted upon by natural forces and human beings” [1]. This definition explicitly emphasizes the interaction between humans and landscape, highlighting landscape characters [2]. Landscape character can be described as “the presence, variety, and arrangement of landscape features, which give a landscape a specific identity” [3].
The fact that humans make vital visual connections with the environment is critical in landscape management and planning [4]. There is a large volume of published studies attempting to identify concepts for visual landscape characters. Through experiments, some researchers find that the relative degree of terrain undulation, the number of elements in the landscape, and the landform play important roles [5–8]. Litton [9,10] used Landscape Control Points to study landscape characters and visual impacts, concluding with basic design elements such as lines, form, color, and texture. Wohlwill [11] conducted a landscape viewing test on 45 people by varying the richness of the test photos, proposing that the human can see five to seven visual landscape elements. Coeterier [12] described the dominant attributes of the Dutch landscape as unity, its function, development in time, maintenance, spaciousness, naturalness, soil and water, and sensory qualities such as color and smell.
Based on research on landscape perception and evaluation, Tveit et al. [13] identified nine key visual concepts which are stewardship, historicity, coherence, disturbance, visual scale, complexity, imageability, naturalness, and ephemera. They proposed a framework of four levels relating to visual character assessment: concepts > dimensions > landscape attributes > indicators. Their identifications of visual characters are comprehensive and consistent with the ELC, which has been used in a few studies [3,14].
Landscape character assessment (LCA) is recognized as a tool for dynamic management concerning regional identity [15]. Since the 1970s, several methods for LCA have been applied, depending on the different aims of the assessment [16]. Briggs and France [17] found that there are two main methods for the evaluation of landscape: direct and indirect approaches. Direct methods are applied to compare public preferences for landscape [17,18], while indirect methods evaluate landscape by analyzing the presence or intensity of designated characters [19]. Similarly, Torres Sibille et al. [20] suggest that the aesthetic of landscape comprises both an objective part, which includes physical features, and a subjective part, which involves human perception. When the aim is to analyze the impact of human activities on a landscape, identifiable landscape attributes and physical elements are usually used in an assessment [21,22]. In visual landscape assessments, three models have been applied widely [23], which are scenic beauty estimation [24], landscape character assessment [25], and visual resource management [26]. For scenic beauty estimation, Cañas et al. [16] validated a model including 42 landscape attributes and explored which attributes are the most significant in their evaluations. As for landscape visual characters, landscape indicators provide a more objective basis for identifying features by dividing the totality of our visual perception into quantifiable characteristics [2]. Though visual landscape indicators are less developed than those for other functions of landscape [27], there has been increased emphasis on identifying visual indicators and evaluating landscape visual quality. Fry et al. [14] indicated that the visual and ecological landscape indicators share many common aspects relating to landscape structure. Badach and Raszeja [28] divided visual indicators into four categories: visual preferences landscape indicators, landscape visual character indicators, GIS-based landscape appreciation model indicators, and indicators based on the digital panoramic view analysis. Jessel [29] developed a method for registering the visual landscape on an element level, shape level, and space level, with the aim of describing changes in landscape structure and shape according to their intensity and character on different complexity levels. Built on the conceptual framework of four levels [13], Ode et al. [2] present an approach for capturing the visual character of a landscape, which is chosen as the method of this study. Based on previous studies on visual concepts, landscape preferences and landscape aesthetics, Ode et al.’s theoretical framework has represented the level at which the landscape could be quantified and measured, taking both empirically tested and suggested visual indicators into account. Furthermore, Ode et al. [2] have stated a filter approach that can help select an appropriate set of visual indicators for application within a specific landscape context. For all these reasons, the concept-indicator framework developed by Ode et al. is a suitable approach for describing visual indicators, identifying physical attributes, and laying the basis for landscape visual quality evaluation.
As the purpose of the study changes, the theoretical base and data source will vary depending on the information they can provide about a landscape. Ramírez et al. [30] state that the most exhaustive approach to assessment includes direct observation in the field. Some authors explore landscape preferences by evaluating cognitive aspects such as openness, coherence, harmony, and others [31,32]. Hence, for preference studies conducted through the perception of the evaluator, photographs are frequently used as representations of landscape [30,33,34]. In such studies, what is being rated is the character the photos represent. However, photographs may have limitations because it is difficult to capture the diversity of potential views and evaluate certain factors by using photographs [35]. In addition, the difficulty of offering a representative photo sample is stressed by several researchers [36]. Some authors suggest that a combined method using several data sources—
including field observations, landscape photographs, aerial photographs, and land cover data—will be the most appropriate [36–39].
Since the emergence of Web 2.0 technology [40], the rise of social media has opened up new paths for landscape visual character studies. The number of photos containing location-related information is increasing on social media platforms, leading to the fast development of crowdsourced geospatial data [40]. Uploading and sharing photographs on social networks such as Flickr, Panoramio, and Instagram have become prominent [41–43]. According to Zhang et al. [44], there are three main approaches for the application of online photo data in research: the study of text attached by photos, the study of metadata embedded by photos, and the study of the photos’ visual content itself. As Albers and James argued [45], content analysis of landscape photographs is an observational approach to coding and analyzing the frequency of certain visual attributes and elements. To date, previous studies have analyzed crowdsourced geotagged photographs for assessing landscape features at different levels. At regional scales, Oteros-Rozas et al. [46] perform a content analysis of 1404 photos uploaded on Flickr and Panoramio platforms, and analyze the landscape features across five sites in Europe. At local scales, authors use content analysis of spatial photos to pinpoint what it is in a landscape to attract people [47,48]. However, based on computer vision technology related to deep learning, most research focuses on cultural ecosystem services and people’s perception of landscape through the clustering of photo locations and recognition of different scenes [44,49,50]. Only a few researchers have explored the exact visual indicators in social media photos. For example, Tenerelli et al. [51] applied the geotagged photos uploaded on Flickr to analyze the characteristics of the landscape through a viewshed-based approach. Recent studies have not been able to precisely link the photo analysis of social media data to landscape visual quality theories as well as visual indicators.
Consequently, compared to traditional data collection, big data has advantages. It is an unstoppable tendency to use deep-going mining for applying user-generated photos to landscape visual quality research in the social network-occupied era [44]. At present, there are two main methods of research related to visual content analysis: one is the traditional way, which manually recognizes the visual contents of photographs, and the other is an emerging way based on computer vision technology. Though the research using the emerging approach has an advantage in the size of the sample and relatively precise analysis, most of the prior studies based on machine learning lack a mature theoretical and conceptual framework.
From this overview, it appears that the photo analysis of landscape visual indicators based on geotagged social data needs more evidence to understand the mapping of the observer’s perception of the landscape. In the present study, the theoretical framework of Ode et al. [2] and the landscape attributes of Cañas et al. [16] served as bases to determine appropriate visual indicators reflected in social media photographs. This study aims to analyze user-generated digital photographs uploaded on a famous Chinese social platform Sina Weibo (hereinafter referred to as Weibo), to select the most popular scenic spot in a cultural landscape and characterize the content itself in terms of its landscape visual indicators. In the following, we present an attempt at our methodology, starting from its very first step in exploring the most popular scenic spots through online hotness data, up to (a) the density and diversity analysis of landscape attributes in each scenic spot, (b) the analysis of the depth of view in each scenic spot, and (c) the analysis of color in each scenic spot as reflected in the user-generated photographs. In the evolution of our work description, we shall also demonstrate some intermediate steps, such as defining a close-up view, medium view, and long-range view through a vision in the photograph and applying MATLAB to the analysis of color. The key contribution of this work is that the mapping relationship between landscape visual attributes reflected in photographs and public perception was reported. Moreover, we linked traditional landscape theories with computer vision technology related to social media data, combining both the theoretical base and emerging techniques. Another contribution is that we expanded the fixed-point
photography experiment into a more accurate way of measuring the visual scale, on the basis of the distance-to-height ratio.
In sum, the analysis focuses on the following questions:
1. Where are observers interacting with the cultural landscape?
2. What is it in a landscape that attracts people? Which landscape visual attributes are the most significant in observers’ perception?
2. Materials and Methods
This chapter analyses the materials and the methodology applied in the study.
2.1. Study Area
The core cultural landscape area (Figure 1) is a typical tourist attraction in the center of Wuhan University. Wuhan University is located in Wuhan city, the capital of Hubei province, which is at the foot of Luojia Mountain and adjacent to East Lake. Known as one of the most beautiful universities in China, Wuhan University is characterized by its spectacular scenery and Picturesque environment. Among all features, the elegant palatial historical buildings are the most attractive to people, which is a combination of Chinese and Western architectural styles. Especially in the core cultural landscape area, there are seven famous buildings acknowledged as must-visit scenic spots (Figure 1b): Wuhan University Library, the Old Dormitory, Neo-confucianism Building, Yifu Building, College of Engineering, Wanlin Art Museum, and Songqing Gymnasium. As Wanlin Art Museum was built in a different architectural style from the early buildings, this study shall only select 6 buildings in the core landscape area. Among these 6 buildings, Yifu Building was built in the 1990s, while the other five buildings were built in the 1930s with the same history. To maintain a unified style with the early architecture, Yifu Building used homogeneous elements such as green roof and geometric forms.
 Location of the case study area. (a) The study area is located in Hubei province, China. The gray area represents the Wuhan University area, while the area within the red line represents the core cultural landscape area; (b) it shows 7 main buildings in the core landscape area.
Since the “Cherry Blossom Festival” at Wuhan University has become a countrywide social and cultural hotspot, the interaction between visitors and the landscape during the cherry viewing period is worthy of in-depth study [52]. Throughout the seasonal “Cherry Blossom Festival”, a large number of people visited Wuhan University. Visitors took photographs of the buildings from different viewpoints and uploaded them on Weibo. There is
a mapping relationship between photographs on social media and people’s perception of the landscape. Based on visitors’ photo-taking behavior and photographs with geographical location, the most popular view of the core cultural landscape area and most preferable landscape visual characters can be elucidated.
2.2. Data
As a proxy for people’s opinions and perceptions, the research used content on the Weibo platform. In the era of information explosion, social media has satisfied people’s constant interaction and instant access to information. Weibo, which has 528 million monthly active users, is one of the most influential social media platforms in China [53]. This study chose Weibo because other social media platforms such as WeChat and Douyin feature chatting or short videos. Weibo mainly aims to contain valuable text and photo contents with geographical information. Based on keywords and hashtags, trending topics on Weibo may capture timely hot spots and reflect users’ attention and attitude to social events.
Considering the temporal efficiency of the Internet, this paper selected records on Weibo on 23 March 2019, which was during the mid-Cherry Blossom Festival, as a sample. Therefore, taking “Wuhan University Library”, “the Old Dormitory”, “Neo-confucianism Building”, “Yifu Building”, “College of Engineering”, and “Songqing Gymnasium” as keywords separately, the search volume and the number of likes on Weibo were counted. Table 1 shows the statistics of each spot. It is clearly seen (Table 1) that the Old Dormitory, Wuhan University Library, and the College of Engineering are the most popular scenic spots among visitors.
Table 1. The search volume and the number of likes of each scenic spot on Weibo within one day.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Name of the Spot</th>
<th>Search Volume</th>
<th>The Number of Likes</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Wuhan University Library</td>
<td>17,841</td>
<td>105,400</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The Old Dormitory</td>
<td>21,521</td>
<td>125,000</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Neo-confucianism Building</td>
<td>7581</td>
<td>37,500</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Yifu Building</td>
<td>6576</td>
<td>27,500</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>College of Engineering</td>
<td>16,034</td>
<td>97,580</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Songqing Gymnasium</td>
<td>8156</td>
<td>69,500</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
To figure out what landscape visual characters lying in these popular spots attract observers, further studies were conducted.
2.2.1. Weibo Dataset
Selecting “Wuhan University” as a keyword, we searched photos on Weibo related to the hashtag of Wuhan University on 23 March 2019. Using automated API requests with Python, the data were downloaded from the Weibo server. Both the actual photo and the meta-data (geo-tag, upload date and time, user name, and the number of likes, comments, and forwards) were downloaded. Only landscape photographs were preserved through manual recognition, while photographs of people, other buildings, or vehicles were excluded. Based on the text content embedded in the data, photographs were classified into 6 groups, which represented 6 scenic spots. Sorted by the number of likes, we chose the top 100 photographs of each spot as a dataset. The Weibo dataset contained 600 photos in total, which were used as research materials. According to the Sina Weibo certification list of the dataset, there were 385 personal users and 215 official accounts, which can show public preferences for the core landscape area. The ratio of male users to female users was about 1.5. Considering sex has no significant influence on landscape preference in prior studies, this paper did not explore the gender differences on landscape evaluation.
2.2.2. Trajectory Dataset
We developed a mini program on WeChat called Architectural Tour in Wuhan University, which supported users to record their spatial locations and behavioral trajectory. On 23 March 2019, the mini program was used about 6000 times, resulting in more than 100,000 observations. Downloaded from the back-end program, 124,210 trajectory points were saved as a dataset. The trajectory dataset can reflect observers’ preference for landscape (Figure 2).
Figure 2. Trajectory points of observers.
2.3. Methodology
The method involved applying a visual method [16] and selecting indicators to quantify the character of the landscape, starting from fix-pointed photographs taken at some observation points in the field. Through the experiment of fixed-point photography, we explored the spatial relationship between the scenic spot and viewpoints.
Following the study of Ode et al. [2], their conceptual scheme enables the linking of visual indicators to landscape aesthetic theory based on four levels. These 9 concepts that characterize the landscape can be divided into two groups: those calculated for the observation points, and those calculated for the whole territory [3]. Given that this study aims at interpreting the visual characters reflected in photographs, only two visual concepts which are most relevant for landscape photographs were selected: the complexity and the visual scale. The indicators for complexity were calculated for the whole scenic spot, while the indicators for visual scale were obtained at the viewpoints. Additionally, in the assessment of the scenic beauty of the landscape, color plays a vital role in terms of aesthetic attributes [16]. Thus, the saturation and hue of color in photographs were chosen as visual indicators as well [54].
2.3.1. Fixed-Point Photography
According to the Weibo dataset, it is found that the photo content consists of the building and its environment. Observers perceive the landscape through senses from different dimensions. To interpret the photo-taking behavior, a visual experiment was conducted.
Yoshinobu Ashihara [55] defined the external modulus theory, in which he suggested every 20–25 m as a module to change the vision of the urban environment. According to Jan Gehl [56], 100 m and 25 m are two main thresholds for overview and detailed scale in the urban planning context. Hence, scale is influenced by the distance between the human body and the object. By setting the building height as H and the distance between adjacent
buildings as D, Yoshinobu pointed out that the distance-to-height (D/H) ratio reflects the interaction of two buildings. Taking the ratio of 1 to 1 as a threshold, if the ratio is less than 1, it brings a sense of oppression. Conversely, as the ratio is more than 1, it creates a sense of distance [55]. From the consideration of Yoshinobu’s theory and human scale, this study sets the scenic building’s height as H and the distance between the observation point and the building as D. We identify the close-up view at the ratio less than 1, from which the details of the building can be accurately recognized. When the D/H ratio is between 1 to 1 and 2 to 1, observers can catch the building’s dominant elements from the mid-range view. As for the long-range view, observers can identify the outline and shape of the building when the ratio is between 2 to 1 and 3 to 1.
Resorting to the photographic method Jan Gehl used to explain a social field of vision [56], we took photos in the field (Figure 3). As the building from different levels of view is displayed at different ratios in a layout, we can identify the distance and dimension between viewpoints and building through photographs.
After fixed-point photography, a grid overlay of 9 parts was used to quantify the proportions of the scenic spot in the photograph scenes [57]. The subject in close-up photos accounts for about 70% and above in a layout. The scenic building in mid-range landscape photos accounts for approximately 50% to 60% of a layout, while in long-range photos the subject covers almost 20% of the layout.
2.3.2. Complexity
The complexity concept is defined as the richness and diversity of landscape features and elements and the interspersion of patterns in the landscape [13]. It is based on several theories. Presenting the Biophilia hypothesis, Kellert and Wilson [58] stress the importance of diversity regarding landscape types and species. Kaplan and Kaplan [59] mention that complexity is a component of information processing theories. Ode et al. [2] propose three dimensions to describe complexity: distribution of landscape attributes which focuses on the number of landscape elements, the spatial organization of patterns, as well as variation and contrast between landscape elements. As this study describes the number and range of landscape elements only, indicators of the spatial organization are not included.
To assess complexity, patch richness density PRD was chosen. As Urban et al. [60] point out, “A landscape is a mosaic of patches, the components of pattern”. Several terms have been applied to identify the basic units or elements making up a landscape, such as landscape component, landscape unit, facies, and site [61]. Since environments are patchy in practice, patches may be defined as grain responses related to the distribution of activity among environmental units [62]. Moreover, patches must be explained considering the given situation. Camillo Sitte et al. [63] indicated that, from different perspectives, people would capture different views of the same object. Thus, in the context of visual units in landscape photographs, we defined photo angles of a scenic spot as patches. According to McGarigal et al. [64], PRD is defined as follows:
\[
\text{NP}_i = N_i, \quad \text{PR}_i = m_i
\]
\[
\text{PRD}_i = \frac{m_i}{A_i}(10,000)
\]
where \(\text{NP}_i\) equals the number of patches of a particular type in the scenic spot \(i\); \(\text{PR}_i\) equals the number of different patch types corresponding to a scenic spot \(i\); and \(A_i\) equals the minimum area \((m^2)\) of the scenic spot \(i\) covering all the photo angles, multiplied by 10,000.
As richness is one of the diversity metrics and partly a function of scale, PRD quantifies richness on a per area basis [64].
2.3.3. Visual Scale
The concept of visual scale defines the perceptual units with regard to their size, shape, diversity, and degree of openness in the landscape [2]. Visual scale can be mainly explained by Appleton’s prospect-refuge theory [8], which indicates that humans have adapted to landscape offering both prospect and refuge. Two groups of indicators for assessing visual scale have been suggested by Ode et al. [2]: the indicators for measuring open area and obstruction of view.
The depth of view has been selected to assess the open area. Several studies have shown that depth has effects on the scale of landscape elements [65], which reveals that a moderate to a high level of depth can affect the observer’s perception of involvement in the landscape [66,67]. Photographs are commonly used to assess the depth of view. Hull and Buhyoff [68] took photos of landscapes at various distances from the topographic features, and the average of the distance was 100 feet. In this research, we conducted a photographic experiment to define the close-up view, mid-range view, and long-range view corresponding to the concepts of foreground, middle ground, and background. The indicator is expressed as follows:
\[
V_i = \text{the proportions of photos of the view } (1−3)^a \text{ related to a scenic spot}
\]
\[
\text{PRD}_i = \frac{m_i}{A_i}(10,000)
\]
\[
V_i = \frac{1}{3} \text{e.g., } 1 = \text{close-up}; 2 = \text{mid-range}; 3 = \text{long-range}.
\]
The \(V_i\) indicator describes the distribution of different levels of view associated with each scenic spot. The standard deviation and extreme deviation of photos at different levels related to a scenic spot were selected as well.
2.3.4. Color
The concept of color plays the main role in the relationship between the building and its environment, which reflects the harmony and compatibility of the landscape [69]. According to the USA Bureau of Land Management, color is one of the factors for visual landscape quality assessment, which compares the variety, contrast, and harmony of the color [70]. Garcia et al. [54] indicate that color is defined by its hue, saturation, and lightness, and building colors can affect its integration into the landscape. Several studies have used the number of colors or the contrast of color as indicators to assess the visual quality [21,71,72].
The contrast between the colors of the building and environment, the arithmetic means of saturation, and the standard deviation of hue were selected to assess the color of each scenic spot. The indicators are defined as follows:
\[
CC_i = \text{color contrast} \\
AMS_i = \text{the arithmetic means of saturation} \\
SDH_i = \text{the standard deviation of hue}
\]
Based on the HSV color model, we used the Image Processing Toolbox in MATLAB to calculate the values of digital photographs in the Weibo dataset. These indicators suggest different aspects of color. Some contrasts may break the scene’s unity and consequently its compatibility. Saturation refers to the purity of color. Perception of the scene changes when the hue values vary from the warmest color to the coldest [54].
3. Result
3.1. Complexity
In Figure 4, the number of different types of photo angles within each scenic spot is presented. With nine types of views, the Old Dormitory has the richest camera angles covering all facades. The shooting angles of Wuhan University Library, the College of Engineering, and Songqing Gymnasium focus on the main and secondary façade, while the photographs of the Neo-confucianism Building and Yifu Building are taken mostly from the main road.
From the analysis of Table 2, it can be concluded that the PRD index represents the richness of the scenic spot views. With the maximum PRD value of 52.26, the Old Dormitory
provides the richest and most diverse visual elements to the landscape scene based on various architectural facades. Furthermore, there is a 100-step staircase throughout the Old Dormitory, which offers visitors space to observe different scenes. The scenic spot with the second highest PRD index is Wuhan University Library. With the minimum PRD index of 14.27, observers have limitations for visual perception of the Yifu Building. Due to the confined site of the Yifu Building, visitors can only take photographs from fewer angles compared to other attractions.
### Table 2. Values of landscape visual indicators depicted in photographs in each study scenic spot.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Name of the Spot</th>
<th>Complexity</th>
<th>Visual Scale</th>
<th>Color</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>PRi (m²)</td>
<td>Ai (m²)</td>
<td>PRD</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Wuhan University Library</td>
<td>7</td>
<td>1589</td>
<td>44.05</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The Old Dormitory</td>
<td>9</td>
<td>1722</td>
<td>52.26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Neo-confucianism Building</td>
<td>6</td>
<td>3115</td>
<td>19.26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Yifu Building</td>
<td>5</td>
<td>3505</td>
<td>14.27</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>College of Engineering</td>
<td>6</td>
<td>2035</td>
<td>29.48</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Songqing Gymnasium</td>
<td>6</td>
<td>1549</td>
<td>38.73</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Name of the Spot</th>
<th>%Value of View 1:View 2:View 3</th>
<th>The Standard Deviation of Vi</th>
<th>Extreme Deviation of Vi</th>
<th>CCi</th>
<th>AMSi</th>
<th>SDHi</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Wuhan University Library</td>
<td>58:26:16</td>
<td>17.91</td>
<td>42</td>
<td>65.80</td>
<td>0.28</td>
<td>0.22</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The Old Dormitory</td>
<td>63:28:9</td>
<td>22.37</td>
<td>54</td>
<td>67.61</td>
<td>0.31</td>
<td>0.28</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Neo-confucianism Building</td>
<td>45:18:37</td>
<td>11.32</td>
<td>27</td>
<td>69.43</td>
<td>0.29</td>
<td>0.18</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Yifu Building</td>
<td>52:38:10</td>
<td>17.46</td>
<td>42</td>
<td>83.16</td>
<td>0.21</td>
<td>0.17</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>College of Engineering</td>
<td>52:20:27</td>
<td>14.20</td>
<td>33</td>
<td>64.36</td>
<td>0.31</td>
<td>0.23</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Songqing Gymnasium</td>
<td>47:35:18</td>
<td>11.90</td>
<td>29</td>
<td>76.07</td>
<td>0.25</td>
<td>0.23</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
#### 3.2. Visual Scale
As shown in Figure 5, the core landscape area has the largest number of photographs of close-up view, followed by the mid-range view and the least number of photos from long-range view. In particular, the proportion of long-range view photos of the Old Dormitory and Yifu Building is less than 10%, indicating that observers are inclined to take close-up photographs at these attractions. With regard to the Neo-confucianism Building and Songqing Gymnasium, the difference value between view 1 and view 2, as well as view 2 and view 3, is approximately 15%, implying that visitors can relatively easily observe different levels of landscape and have a broad view when taking photos in these two scenic spots.
minimum value (at the long-range view) of the Old Dormitory, Wuhan University Library and Yifu Building are above 40%, indicating that the distribution of each type of photo is unbalanced. It is difficult for observers to appreciate different levels of landscape in such scenic spots, probably because they face the campus's main road with undulating terrain.
3.3. Color
Color is a fundamental component of the landscape. To facilitate the comparison, the value of color contrast, saturation, and hue were normalized (see Figure 6). Taking two typical photographs shared on Weibo as samples, the impacts of three color dimensions can be illustrated distinctly (see Figure 7). The Image Processing Toolbox in MATLAB was applied to calculate the color values.
Figure 6. Analysis of landscape colors.
As can be seen in Figure 6, with the maximum contrast value of 83.16, Yifu Building stands out from the background, clearly highlighting its monumental image of the building. Conversely, the College of Engineering, Wuhan University Library and the Old Dormitory have low values of contrast, suggesting that these buildings have good integration into the environment. Comparing the $C_{C_i}$ values in Figure 7, the color contrast of the Yifu Building is about 1.5 times as much as the Old Dormitory, which shows that the difference in brightness between the colors of the Yifu Building is larger than that of the Old Dormitory.
Figure 7. Cont.
Figure 7. The analysis of the color of two typical photographs shared on Weibo based on MATLAB.
Using the mean saturation value (AMS$_i$), the dominance of the tones is represented, with higher saturation indicating more vivid colors and less gray. An object with high saturation values attracts the attention of the observer more [73]. Looking at Figure 6, with the AMS of 0.31, the College of Engineering and the Old Dormitory have the highest mean saturation values, which indicates that the colors of these landscapes and environments are the most vivid, leading to visitors taking photos of such attractions with striking colors. On the contrary, the mean saturation value of the Yifu Building is the lowest, which is only 0.21, revealing the dull scene of such an attraction. As shown in Figure 7, the AMS$_i$ values of the Old Dormitory are twice as much as that of the Yifu Building.
The standard deviation of hue (SDH$_i$) measures the amount of variation of the hue values related to a certain attraction. The figure above (Figure 6) shows that the SDH of the Old Dormitory is significantly higher than other landscapes, which is 0.28, indicating that the color diversity of the Old Dormitory is the highest, and observers perceive various colors strongly when taking photos. With a minimum SDH of about 0.17, the Neo-confucianism
Building and Yifu Building have homogenous colors unappealing to observers. Looking at Figure 7g,h, the SDH$_i$ value of the Old Dormitory is higher than that of the Yifu Building.
3.4. The Most Popular Scenic Spot
The results of the point density analysis based on ArcGIS are shown in Figure 8. It is clearly seen that the Old Dormitory is the most popular scenic spot. Observers interact with the landscape mostly on the main road in front of each scenic building, especially around the Old Dormitory.
Looking at indicators of complexity, the visual scale, and the color of the Old Dormitory, it can be found that complexity and color play the main roles in the visual perception of the cultural landscape. Preference for a scenic spot is especially high when there is a high richness of viewing angles. In addition, color is a crucial concept in determining the visual quality with regards to color contrast, saturation, and hue. Observers tend to gather at the attractions with vivid colors and rich color combinations, where the man-made buildings harmonize with the environment. The visual scale is less dominant compared with the former two concepts. The distance between the direct stimulus and the viewer indicates different levels of involvement. For cultural landscapes, close-up views have the effect of increasing the viewer’s perception of all the physical elements. Thus, mid-range and long-range views are relatively inconsequential.
4. Discussion and Conclusions
Social media data, especially photographs, has become a new form of evaluating landscape visual indicators [46]. This article highlights the considerable potential of uploaded photographs for public perception analysis and landscape visual quality assessment. Through photograph content analysis, a deep comprehension of what observers portray can be applied to exploring the landscape attributes which attract people.
The major discoveries of the present study are as follows:
- In line with prior studies on landscape preference and visual landscape assessment based on traditional data and social media data [47,74], which suggest a positive relation between landscape diversity and observer’s perception, this article confirms that the complexity of landscape attributes is a determining factor related to landscape visual quality. However, as people tend to have different preferences towards different landscape types [75], this finding related to cultural landscapes is slightly inconsistent with previous studies on ecological landscapes. Complexity affects both
the effort required to perceive the object and the amount of information in a landscape scene. In terms of ecological landscapes, the inverted-U-shaped relation between complexity and landscape preference has been proved in many papers [65]. As for cultural landscapes, the elements for visual quality in urban settlements range from the whole of the city to its parts, such as a boulevard or a street [76]. Among the urban landscape indicators, building facades serve as a vital feature providing important information [77]. Thus, this research innovatively selects camera angles reflecting different facades of attractions as landscape patches, which could be a valuable application to assess the complexity of cultural landscapes. The Old Dormitory in the study area has the maximum value of PRD, which suggests that visitors can have the richest observation points around this attraction.
- The results about saturation and hue values corroborate the findings of a great deal of previous work in visual elements accounting for people’s preferences [16,47,54,77]. With high AMS and SDH values, observers are willing to stay and obtain picturesque images at the Old Dormitory and College of Engineering. This finding is consistent with the results in the investigation by Huang and Lin [75], in which high color variation and chroma have positive correlations with preference and encourage visual fixation. Nonetheless, contrast can be perceived differently. According to Garcia et al. [54], incompatible contrasts might lead to poor integration into the environment, such as color contrast in urban signposting. Conversely, the preference for visual beauty has a positive correlation with color contrast in Arriaza et al.’s work [21]. This study supports the finding of Garcia et al., which indicates that the color contrast existing in the study area is incompatible. With low values of contrast, Wuhan University Library, the Old Dormitory and the College of Engineering provide a sense of wholeness in the landscape.
- As for the results about visual scale, depth of view has a relatively minor impact on perceived visual quality. With close-up photos accounting for about 50% of the total photos, the uploaded photographs contain mainly close-up views, which indicates that observers tend to appreciate these landscapes at a close distance. However, this outcome is contrary to that of Hull and Buhyoff [68], who found that distance to the back ridge was much more predictive of scenic beauty than the distance to the front ridge, and there was a concave upward relationship between distance and preference. A possible explanation for these results may be that cultural landscapes are perceived differently from natural landscapes. For cultural landscapes, as the distance of view decreases, the opportunity for involvement increases by increasing the sense of enclosure [67], leading to a close look at visual elements such as decorations and texture. As for natural landscapes, a far distance between the viewer and features tends to lower the complexity and increase the preference by making the viewer grasp notable patterns of an order [65]. Since the close-up view is the main factor for preference, a richness in different levels of view has not been able to demonstrate that cultural landscapes with balanced close-to-far depths of view are more popular.
- The presented results enabled us to answer the two main research questions. In accordance with the trajectory data analysis, viewers tend to interact with the cultural landscapes along the main roads, particularly at the Old Dormitory. Density and diversity of the camera angles, depth of view, and the color of each scenic spot were selected as indicators for exploring the visual quality. In reference to the findings, observers have preferences for cultural landscapes with diverse viewing angles, high values of saturation, and the standard deviation of hue. The distance-to-height ratio of less than 1 indicates the close distance which can most arouse the viewer’s interest in taking photographs. Based on these findings, government, urban planners, and landscape designers can manage cultural landscape and enhance the attractiveness of tourism destinations precisely. By increasing the complexity of buildings, integrating buildings into the environment, and maintaining a proper distance-to-height ratio, cultural landscapes such as historic designed
landscapes and traditional villages might draw observers’ attention and attract them to stay for longer and take photographs.
The second contribution of this study refers to linking systematic theories to visual indicator analysis based on computer vision technology. The methodology demonstrated in this paper adds to a growing body of evidence for visual indicator application based on content analysis of social media photographs. The prior studies applying crowdsourced geodata on social media platforms in landscape perception analysis mainly focus on coding and scene recognition [46–48,50,78], which is highly efficient in evaluating public preferences and opinions by automatic computer programs. However, most of the prior studies have been unable to link mature landscape theories to emerging methodologies. Using Ode et al.’s theory-based framework, this research assesses the feasibility of semi-automatic photo content analysis combined with the MATLAB algorithm and manual recognition. The third contribution of this paper is that the fixed-point photography experiment provides an approach to measuring the depth of view related to the classical way. The planimetric and panoramic simulations are used widely to quantify the dimensions of views in recent times [79], while photographs and field observations are traditional ways [57,66,68]. We developed the photographic method into a more precise measurement with the concept of distance-to-height ratio, which is more appropriate to determine the visual scale at a local scale compared with the simulations, especially in relation to specific buildings’ visual elements.
Though this essay has made contributions concerning big data, computational techniques and visual indicators, limitations exist in three aspects. First, as the present study had a quite experimental character, the findings might not be suitable for extrapolation to cultural landscapes at a large scale. Second, for different aims, certain social media platforms are used more than others in particular areas [80]. Oteros-Rozas et al. [46] suggest a similar finding that Flickr hosts more photographs representing CES compared to Panoramio. In China, other social media platforms with considerable shared photographs have emerged recently, such as the Douyin app, the Ctrip website, and other platforms. The differences between photos on certain platforms should be addressed in future studies. Third, another challenge that remains in big data application is that the potential for rigorous quality control and generalizability is required to be clarified [81]. As photographs on social media might have poor reliability in the location or image quality [4], more attention needs to be drawn to the synthesis process regarding a principle expressed as Linus’s Law, which suggests overlapping observations for effective convergence. Our findings related to the landscape features depicted in photographs revealed public preferences for landscapes based on user-generated content and trajectory data. However, comparing the content analysis with the results from other data sources such as land cover data and orthophotos should be explored.
In the future, it will be important to explore the potential use of user-generated data on social media platforms from different cultural backgrounds, with the aim of comparing similarities and differences related to people’s perception of landscape. Users located in different parts of the world might prefer disparate landscape visual features. What’s more, users’ information embedded in social media data remains to be studied. For each landscape attribute, factors such as age, gender, cultural backgrounds, and living environment (native vs. non-native) of the photographer might cause differences in landscape visual preferences. In addition, as this study focuses on complexity, visual scale, and color only, further research should be carried out to assess other concepts of landscape visual quality such as coherence, disturbance, historicity, and other indicators according to Ode et al.’s framework [2], which might use content analysis of photographs combined with other data sources.
Author Contributions: Conceptualization, X.Z. and D.X.; methodology, D.X. and N.Z.; software, D.X.; validation, X.Z., D.X. and N.Z.; formal analysis, D.X.; investigation, N.Z.; resources, X.Z.; data curation, N.Z.; writing—original draft preparation, D.X. and N.Z.; writing—review and editing, X.Z.; visualization, D.X.; supervision, X.Z.; project administration, D.X.; funding acquisition, X.Z. All authors have read and agreed to the published version of the manuscript.
Funding: This research was funded by the National Natural Science Foundation of China [Grant No. 41671442]: Human Behavior Patterns Analysis and Space Optimization based on the Big Trace Space-time Data.
Institutional Review Board Statement: Not applicable.
Informed Consent Statement: Not applicable.
Data Availability Statement: Not applicable.
Conflicts of Interest: The authors declare no conflict of interest.
References
14. Fry, G.; Tveit, M.S.; Ode, Å.; Velarde, M.D. The ecology of visual landscapes: Exploring the conceptual common ground of visual and ecological landscape indicators. Ecol. Indic. 2009, 9, 933–947. [CrossRef]
15. Wascher, D.M. European Landscape Character Areas—Typologies, Cartography and Indicators for the Assessment of Sustainable Landscapes. In Landscape Europe; Final Project Report as deliverable from the EU’s Accompanying Measure project European Landscape Character Assessment Initiative (ELCAI), funded under the 5th Framework Programme on Energy, Environment and Sustainable Development (4.2.2); Wageningen Environmental Research: Wageningen, The Netherlands, 2005; pp. 36–40.
16. Cañas, I.; Ayuga, E.; Ayuga, F. A contribution to the assessment of scenic quality of landscapes based on preferences expressed by the public. Land Use Policy 2009, 26, 1173–1181. [CrossRef]
42. Casalegno, S.; Inger, R.; DeSilvey, C.; Gaston, K.J. Spatial Covariance between Aesthetic Value & Other Ecosystem Services. *PLoS ONE* 2013, 8, e68437. [CrossRef]
52. Zhang, X.; Hu, Y. Analysis of Entrance Space of Wuhan University Based on Behavior Trajectory. Huazhong Archit. 2021, 39, 92–98. [CrossRef]
53. Tö, L. Research on Hot Search Agenda Construction of Sina Weibo; Postgraduate; Xi’an Technological University: Xi’an, China, 2022.
68. Hull, R.B.; Buhayoff, G.J. Distance and Scenic Beauty: A Nonmonotonic Relationship. Environ. Behav. 1983, 15, 77–91. [CrossRef]
74. Ode, A.; Fry, G.; Tveit, M.S.; Messager, P.; Miller, D. Indicators of perceived naturalness as drivers of landscape preference. J. Environ. Manag. 2009, 90, 375–383. [CrossRef]
78. Langemeyer, J.; Calcagni, F.; Baró, F. Mapping the intangible: Using geolocated social media data to examine landscape aesthetics. Land Use Policy 2018, 77, 542–552. [CrossRef]
|
[REMOVED] |
INVOCATION AND SPIRIT DANCE: A COMPOSITION FOR SOLO CLARINET BY FRANK WILEY
A thesis submitted to the
Kent State University Honors College
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for University Honors
by
Natalie Elise Groom
May, 2013
# TABLE OF CONTENTS
LIST OF FIGURES.................................................................................................iv
LIST OF TABLES......................................................................................................iv
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS..............................................................................................v
CHAPTER
I. INTRODUCTION...................................................................................................1
II. ABOUT THE COMPOSER....................................................................................3
III. AN ANALYSIS OF INVOCATION AND SPIRIT DANCE...............................6
IV. OTHER WORKS FOR CLARINET BY FRANK WILEY.................................30
BIBLIOGRAPHY......................................................................................................43
LIST OF FIGURES
Figure
1. Map of Growth and Contour of *Invocation and Spirit Dance* ………………………36
2. Graph of Range of *Invocation and Spirit Dance* ………………………………………39
LIST OF TABLES
Table
1. Overall Form of *Invocation and Spirit Dance* ………………………………………40
2. Tonal Centers of *Invocation and Spirit Dance* ………………………………………41
3. Pitch-Class Sets of *Invocation and Spirit Dance* ……………………………………42
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you Dennis Nygren, Richard Devore, Chas Baker, and Sara Newman for being on my defense committee. Thank you Dr. Nygren for spending the last year as my thesis advisor, even past the duration of your time as a faculty member at Kent State University; you have gone out of your way to guide me in my undergraduate studies. Thank you Dr. Devore for helping me refine my thesis much earlier than you had to; you have been so patient and generous with your time. Thank you Dr. Frank Wiley for working with me and being so accessible and encouraging throughout the whole thesis process. It is a wonderful opportunity to work so closely with a living composer on his work.
CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION
In the clarinet world, there is a wealth of solo literature available to performers. From Stravinsky to Martino to Penderecki to Bolcom, composers have sought to write solo repertoire that truly showcases the musical capabilities of the clarinet. One such composer is Dr. Frank Wiley, professor of composition at Kent State University. As an undergraduate at KSU, I became acquainted with Dr. Wiley and his work for solo clarinet, *Invocation and Spirit Dance*, written for and dedicated to my clarinet professor, Dr. Dennis Nygren, in 2000. When I heard it for the first time I was intrigued and wanted to learn more about it. My goal in writing this thesis is to examine all aspects of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*: rhythmic, melodic and intervallic content, the compositional techniques Wiley utilizes to achieve suspense and growth, and the challenges it presents to performers.
I took advantage of the fact that a living and active composer was available to me in the same city. Through regular interviews and e-mails with Frank Wiley I discovered more about Wiley as a composer, the deeper aspects of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*, and the vision he had of its performance execution. Wiley has written four pieces involving clarinet: *Ritual Music* (1990), *Star-Fall Dances* (1993), *Invocation and Spirit Dance* (2000), and *Prizm* (2003). I interviewed performers of these works such as Dennis Nygren, Erick Saoud, and Ted Rounds to gain a better understanding of Wiley’s compositional style and how performers respond to his writing. Through interviews, recordings, program notes, and score study I found that Frank Wiley’s compositional
style is quite structured and driven by rhythm, ever evident in *Invocation and Spirit Dance*. This thesis first gives insight on the composer, Frank Wiley, in Chapter Two. Chapter Three is an analysis of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*, including performance challenges. For those interested in other works involving clarinet by Wiley, Chapter Four gives a brief description of the other three pieces.
CHAPTER TWO: ABOUT THE COMPOSER
Frank Wiley was born in Richmond, Virginia on December 9, 1949 into a musical family. His mother worked as a professional radio and church choir singer; his brother served as a military jazz band leader during World War II and played clarinet and saxophone. Even though he gave up playing and directing by the time Wiley was old enough to choose a career in music, his continued passion for and collection of music was an inspiration for Wiley.
Growing up in Petersburg, Virginia his musical exposure was somewhat limited. As a child, Dr. Wiley recalls being struck by Walt Disney’s Fantasia; many of the composers whose music was featured in the film were great influences on his compositional development later. He took piano lessons from Mary Patteson and later from Fanny Kerr, and he also played clarinet in his high school band. Wiley was fortunate to participate in a summer program where young musicians were given the opportunity to learn other instruments. He attended this program for many summers and learned to play all of the major band instruments.
Two men were integral figures in Frank Wiley’s pre-college musical development: Ralph Stronach and Ronald Weston Davis. Stronach was Wiley’s band director at Petersburg High School. A philosopher and musician, he taught Wiley to think on a higher musical level and to go beyond simply “playing the notes.” Ronald Weston Davis was the church organist and choir director at Trinity Methodist Church (later
Trinity United Methodist Church), the church Wiley attended while living in Petersburg. Dr. Wiley took organ lessons with Davis, and Davis added another dimension to Wiley’s understanding of music through his range of experience and high expectations.
Upon graduating from high school, Wiley enrolled at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill as an organ performance major under the tutelage of Rudolph Kremer. Though Kremer was a great teacher, Dr. Wiley’s musical development was most influenced by a different UNC faculty member—Roger Hannay, the professor of composition. Hannay hosted a Festival of Contemporary Music when Wiley was a sophomore. This event exposed him to music that he had read about but had never actually heard. Up to this point, he had only experienced standard repertoire performed by prominent orchestras. The music performed at the new music festival fascinated him, prompting him to get involved in performing avant-garde music on campus. His growing love for new music inspired him to take composition lessons with Hannay. When his undergraduate studies were completed, he enrolled as a masters student in composition with Hannay.
Frank Wiley went on to pursue a Doctor of Musical Arts degree in composition at the Cleveland Institute of Music/Case Western Reserve with Donald Erb. At CIM/CWR he took the role of assistant conductor of wind chamber ensembles (he had accumulated conducting experience through school and church). Wiley studied conducting formally with Thomas Briccetti. Of all of his teachers and mentors, professors Hannay, Erb, and Briccetti had the greatest influence on his musical development.
In the spring semester of 1975, partway through his doctoral studies, Wiley was invited to join the faculty of the University of North Carolina Wilmington. He continued working on his doctorate while teaching composition, organ, electronic music, and sophomore and junior music theory at Wilmington. He taught at UNCW from 1975-1979.
In 1979, Dr. Wiley joined the faculty at Kent State University in Kent, Ohio where he remains a conductor, composer, and teacher. He founded the Kent State New Music Ensemble, which is still an active performing ensemble conducted by Wiley. Throughout his years at KSU he has taught courses in organ, harpsichord, composition, conducting, and theory. He served as the conductor of the KSU Orchestra for fourteen years, and was awarded the Cleveland Arts Prize for music composition in 1986 and Kent State University’s Distinguished Teaching Award in 1995.
CHAPTER THREE: AN ANALYSIS OF **INVOCATION AND SPIRIT DANCE**
*Invocation and Spirit Dance* is the only one of Frank Wiley’s four pieces involving clarinet that is for solo clarinet. His second work involving clarinet, it was written for and dedicated to clarinetist Dr. Dennis Nygren of Kent State University in 2000. Nygren performed the world premiere of the piece on July 19, 2000 at the International Clarinet Convention in Norman, Oklahoma at the University of Oklahoma.
*Invocation and Spirit Dance* was inspired by the soulful melodies and driving rhythms found in world music, particularly from Africa. There are two main moods to the piece: the “Invocation” and the “Spirit Dance.” The Invocation is pensive and rubato, a portrayal of the ceremonial practice of beseeching the gods, invoking their guidance and power. Colloquial and free, it is similar to a heartfelt prayer. It brings to mind the communal acts of meditation and prayer common in many African cultures. The Dance is rhythmically driving and always building, not unlike traditional tribal drumming. It is a portrayal of the literal dance someone might perform around a fire with drummers playing to attract the spirits’ and gods’ attention. An ostinato propels this section forward, building wild and frenzied tension until the very end. The piece generally has a more exotic flair to it, the world music influence evident.
The four pieces Wiley has written with clarinet (*Ritual Music, Star-Fall Dances, Invocation and Spirit Dance, and Prizm*) have all been influenced by Wiley’s exposure to world music. His first work with clarinet, *Ritual Music*, was inspired by Japanese Kodo
drumming, a drumming that takes its name from a Japanese word that means “heartbeat.” Wiley states he has also been influenced by the driving, often dance-like rhythms found in many parts of Africa. Indeed, many of the ostinato figures in Wiley’s pieces serve as the “heartbeat” of the work, especially in Invocation and Spirit Dance. The driving “heartbeat” rhythms and dance-like melodies are reflections of the inspiration Wiley has found in Japanese and African world music.
The piece opens with a three-note cell that is the basis of the entire piece. Spanning a written G1 to Bb1 to G1, this minor third interval is heavily emphasized throughout the work. This beginning motive gradually expands over the next sixteen measures. At quarter note equals 54-60, two rubato tied whole notes precede the motive; as the piece progresses, the motive gets shorter and shorter and will eventually be as short as three sixteenth notes during the Dance. This is the opening motive:
Mm. 1-4. opening motive of Invocation and Spirit Dance
Intensity builds as the rhythms get shorter and more compact, creating a natural accelerando in addition to marked ones from measures 10-21. Most of the phrases in part A (see Table 1 for form) begin with a sustained pitch that emerges from niente and decays into nothing in another sustained pitch at the end of the phrase. Subsection a2 begins at measure 24, and this brief section introduces a unique technique to the
clarinetist known as a color trill. In measures 24-32, Wiley uses this technique to create an air of mystery and suspense.
Part B begins at measure 33, indicated by a brief pause and a change in tempo to quarter note equals 76. It opens with the minor third interval and expands into the three-note cell, G1 to Bb1 to G1, found at the very beginning of the piece. Fragments of the Dance motive appear first, and more and more notes are added on to the end in mostly minor sixth and tritone intervals.
The compositional technique of note addition is quite prevalent in this section. Wiley takes the three-note motive and adds a few notes to the end of it every time it is restated. As the added notes accumulate the motive expands as long as a continuous four-measure idea. Every addition stems from the original three-note cell. However, these notes are just expansions of the melody that lies in each of the accented notes. The next example shows the melody figure without embellishments as heard in measures 41-42.
Mm. 41-42. Melody notes in Section b1.
This fragmented Dance idea in measures 33-46 is almost a premonition of what material the composer has planned for the listener. Beginning in measure 48, there is a shift in range and texture: the range moves to the middle of the clarinet, upper chalumeau and clarion, and the meter becomes more unstable. It is characterized by changing meters every measure, often between duple and triple meters. For example, starting in measure
The meters are 2/8, 7/16, 2/4, 2/8, and 7/16. This instability continues until a climax occurs in measure 63 on an E4 trill before ushering into subsection b2, the primary ostinato figure of the piece.
Beginning at measure 68, the first Dance theme (b2) starts as an ostinato rhythm that provides the underlying current of the rest of the piece. This rhythm is as follows:
From measure 68 to 101 this rhythm is repeated five times. From a pitch center of A1, it is first stated in its pure form. The second time it appears a measure of 6/8 is interpolated after the second 9/8 measure. In the third restatement the interpolated 6/8 measure from before disappears, and a measure of 9/8 and 6/8 are added on to the end, extending the ostinato figure. When it shifts to a pitch center of F#1 in measure 81, it is first stated as the original ostinato figure but in the second statement a 6/8 measure is interpolated as before plus a five-measure extension. Each time the ostinato restarts on a different pitch level at least one measure interpolates or extends the ostinato theme.
Mm. 68-70, 71-74, 75-79. Three statements of the ostinato from a pitch center of A1.
Mm. 81-83, 84-92. Two statements of the ostinato from a pitch center of F#1.
This kind of additive development occurs constantly in *Invocation and Spirit Dance*. Wiley often uses one theme or idea and gradually expands it by interpolating or adding measures or specific notes when it recurs to achieve tension and growth. All of these rhythmic expansions and additions to the original three-measure ostinato figure lead into measure 102, the first fully-fledged melodic Dance theme (b3) based on material presented earlier in measures 47-55.
Mm. 47-55. Original material from which the full melodic Dance theme is derived.
Mm. 102-108. First full statement of the melodic Dance theme.
The next time this melodic Dance theme is stated, Wiley interjects the ostinato rhythm (the first Dance theme) every few measures.
Mm. 112-116. Ostinato interjects the Dance theme in measure 114 and 116.
This interchange between the first ostinato Dance theme and the second melodic Dance theme continues until the secondary climax of the entire piece in measure 129 in an arpeggio that reaches a Bb4. At this point there are four measures (measures 130-133) utilizing the three-note motive that creates a transition into measure 134, part C.
Legato and sostenuto, section C is an amalgamation of the material seen before in subsection a1, a2, and b2. The three-note motive from a1 returns in similar note values but starting on E3, so it now spans E3 to G3 to E3.
Mm. 134-136. Clarion statement of three-note motive in Section C.
The color trill technique from subsection a2 returns but this time in a rhythmic fashion, thus creating a rhythmic color trill that implies the ostinato Dance theme.
Mm. 134-139. Rhythmic color trills.
And finally, the ostinato figure and even specific pitches from subsection b2 come back in this interesting blend of themes.
Mm. 134-141. Original ostinato theme interjects within melodic areas in Section C.
Not only does the Dance ostinato figure actually repeat verbatim in measures 140-141, but it is also combined with the color trill technique to create a rhythmic color trill using the ostinato rhythm in measures 136-138. Without the two-measure Dance ostinato interruptions, the melodic line continues and can stand on its own. The melodic line is heard in measures 134-139, 142-152, 155-162, and 166-173; the measures in between these melodic phrases are short two- or three-measure repetitions of the ostinato. However, because the ostinato is present in the rhythmic color trills within the melodic phrases, it creates an intriguing synthesis of the three themes. When the performer is playing the sustained pitches with the rhythmic color trills, it almost gives the illusion that two people are playing: one the beautiful melody and the other the drumming rhythm. The listener has by this time internalized the ostinato rhythm and can almost feel it even when it is not being played. This section is skillfully crafted, and these three independent themes interact with and build on each other throughout. From measure 138 to the end of B, the exchange between registers gets softer and softer, unwinding to niente in measure 173.
A' returns briefly at measure 175 using material seen in subsection a2. Only 9 measures long, it hearkens back to the use of the clarion color trills that contributes to the mysterious, eerie quality of this section. After a brief pause, B' begins at measure 184. Emerging from pianissimo, the Dance ostinato figure and the three-note motive returns but is incomplete. The last few beats of each measure are “missing” the first time through
the figure. It is like a motor starting up as it gains rhythmic momentum. Using the technique of omission builds suspense and captures the listener’s attention.
Mm. 184-187. Revitalization of the ostinato figure in B'.
The ostinato continues to grow in dynamic intensity until the second Dance theme returns at measure 198, and the dynamic level for the rest of the piece remains at forte or louder. Like subsection b3, the melodic Dance and ostinato Dance are interwoven beginning in measure 207. The music builds in tension, moving sequentially higher and higher into the clarinet’s range. Suddenly there is a lot of scale-wise motion, a sharp contrast to the angular content that has dominated much of the piece. Although sixteenth-note runs were heard earlier in measure 93, 95, 97, and 123, the runs beginning in measure 209 are lengthier and more consistent, creating an increasingly agitated and urgent mood.
Mm. 93, 95, 97, 123. First instances of sixteenth-note runs.
Mm. 209, 220, 224, 232-234. Climactic sixteenth-note runs towards the end of B’.
The climax of *Invocation and Spirit Dance* is heard from measure 219 to the end in measure 241. The sixteenth-note runs, the huge expanse of range from E1 to Bb4, and the dynamic increase from fortissimo to fortississimo propel the listener forward. There are three points of climax within these last few measures. First, an arpeggio beginning in measure 230 extends from E1 to Bb4, followed by a biting trill on D3. The coda begins at measure 231, and starting in measure 232 three sixteenth-note runs whirl up to an Ab4 followed by an arpeggio similar to that in measure 230 that also reaches a Bb4. Finally, the piece ends with a sforzando pianissimo crescendo to fortississimo trill on G2.
followed by a final statement of the three-note motive in successive eighth notes. Figure 1 is a representation of the overall shape and growth of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*.
Mm. 237-241. Final five measures of the piece, a reference back to the three-note motive.
Wiley uses many compositional tools to achieve tension and growth in *Invocation and Spirit Dance*. One prevalent technique is his use of diminution, specifically diminution in rhythm, rests, and melodic content. This technique is what gives the piece its constant, steady momentum. For instance, measures 1-4, 5-7, and 13-16 all contain similar content but intensity builds among the three examples because of rhythmic diminution. Measures 1-4 have seventeen beats, measures 5-7 have fifteen beats, and measures 13-16 have fifteen beats. Between each figure the note values are decreased and more notes are condensed into each measure while simultaneously decreasing the amount of rests at the end of each figure. Here is the first example of rhythmic diminution:
Mm. 1-4, 5-7, 13-16. Diminution among the first three statements of the three-note motive.
In the next example, Wiley adds one more note to the second quarter-note beat of the measure each time. Even though the meter of measure 18 makes it one eighth note shorter than measure 17, it still has one more articulated note than measure 17, and measure 19 has one more articulated note than measure 18. It is a built-in accelerando in addition to a specifically notated one.
Mm. 17-19. Diminution in beat two between three consecutive measures.
Measures 20-23 are an example of the use of both diminution and augmentation in rhythm and dynamics to create an arc of growth. Measures 20 and 21 expand and build tension by diminution; measures 22 and 23, in contrast, contract and release tension by augmentation.
Mm. 20-23. Use of diminution and augmentation to generate and release tension.
The first 35 measures of section B are an extended example of diminution in note values and rest values. The entire section stems from the original three-note motive with emphasis on the minor third interval. Every time the idea is restated it is slightly extended (primarily with minor sixth and tritone intervals) and has more notes added at the end.
Mm. 33-35, 35-38, 40-42. Diminution in the first three fragments of the Dance theme in Section B echoing diminution seen in the first three statements of the piece in Section A.
This technique continues in longer statements through different pitch centers until it begins to augment in measures 63-67, starting on the high E4 trill and unwinding into the first statement of the Dance ostinato in measure 68.
The melodic Dance theme begins in measure 102. The first seven measures exhibit diminution in rests and note values. In two-measure segments, the first grouping (measures 102-103) begins with a dotted quarter rest and three eighth notes that lead to a dotted quarter note in measure 103; in the second grouping (measures 104-105), the rest value decreases to a quarter rest followed by three eighth notes leading up to a dotted quarter note in measure 105; in the third grouping (measures 106-108), there is still a quarter note rest at the beginning but this time it is followed by three eighth notes that lead into just a quarter note, an eighth note shorter than before. This third statement continues into measure 108 with no rest this time, creating a decrease by a quarter rest.
Mm. 102-108. Diminution between two-measure segments of the melodic Dance theme.
A second important compositional element to Invocation and Spirit Dance is intervallic content. Especially evident in the arpeggio figures, the melodic Dance theme, and the ostinato Dance theme, almost every interval in the piece is a minor second, minor third, minor sixth, or tritone. Every time a different tonality is explored, the same intervals are used just based on a different starting pitch. For example, the content starting in measure 36, 44, and 56 is essentially the same, just starting from a different
pitch level. Wiley uses the minor sixth and tritone almost exclusively as he builds the patterns that gradually grow though expansion of range and diminution concurrently. Even the pitch centers of each small section are intervallically related: G1 to E1 is a minor third and E1 to F1 is a minor second. The following shows the consistent intervallic patterns in one of the many arpeggio figures and also how each tonal center is similarly extended with these primary intervals.
Mm. 36-37, 44-46, 56-58. Intervallic patterns of arpeggiated material between G1, E1, F1 pitch centers that all begin with the three-note intervallic motive of a minor third.
In the melodic Dance theme, the intervals used are very similar to those used in the previous example but they are wider with more tritones and minor sixths than seen in the arpeggiated areas.
Mm. 102-108. Intervallic pattern of the melodic Dance theme.
Lastly, the third distinct theme, the Dance ostinato, contains similar but smaller intervals with many minor seconds, minor thirds, and repeated notes. As in the arpeggio material, the intervals used between different pitch centers are the same.
Mm. 68-70, 81-83, 94-95, 153-154, 188-190. Intervallic pattern each time Dance ostinato is restated from a different pitch level.
For most of the piece, this strong emphasis on intervallic patterns is quite prominent. The melodic content and subsequent outgrowths hinge on this consistent and systematic use of the minor second, minor third, minor sixth, and tritone intervals. Once an intervallic pattern has been established by the first statement of a given theme, that pattern is used regularly every time similar material reappears. The three themes are built almost exclusively on four intervals. However, Wiley arranges them in a specific manner to create distinctly identifiable themes: a more uniform and flowing line, such as the ostinato theme, or a more angular or irregular line, such as in the arpeggiatic material or melodic Dance theme. Even so, through all of the pattern variations and extensions to a given theme, everything can be reduced to the opening three-note motive, the core of the piece.
It should be noted that much of Invocation and Spirit Dance lends itself well to set theoretical analysis. Set theory is useful for visualizing how the intervallic content and patterns amongst the three main ideas of the piece are consistent and related. Each time the ostinato Dance theme appears it follows the same intervallic pattern and therefore the same pitch-class set, [0134] (see Table 3 for pitch-class material); this theme is step-wise in nature and especially rich in minor seconds and minor thirds. The melodic Dance theme shares the same pitch class when it appears in measure 102 and 198. Set theoretical analysis suggests that this theme is full of major seconds and major thirds; however, the
Dance theme has many more leaps and emphasizes the larger-interval inversions of major seconds and thirds. The arpeggio figures are problematic to organize into sets; the first two or three beats of an arpeggiatic passage might share the same pitch-class set but then it becomes challenging to organize the following material into sets. With no rests to define the note groupings, it becomes difficult to continue set theoretical analysis. And, like the Dance theme, the pitch-class sets suggest that the arpeggiated material is rich in minor seconds and minor thirds when in fact it is more angular and leap-oriented. Although much of the piece can be analyzed using set theory, Wiley is purposeful in the intervals he chooses. A major sixth is meant to be heard and understood as a major sixth, not as a minor third. Studying the first few sets in a theme is enough to see patterns and draw comparisons, but extensive use of set theory is not practical or consistent with Wiley’s vision of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*.
There is not really a specific tonality to the piece. When the term “tonality” is used here it means the tone or pitch from which the primary intervals of the piece are built on. The tonality is determined by the starting pitch of each section (ABCA’B’) or the starting pitch of each Dance ostinato passage. One can almost think of the changing pitch centers as “modulations” of related material. For example, if the ostinato starts on an A1, it follows that the minor third interval to C1 will be present in the first three measures of the pattern like the three-note motive at the beginning, and any sixteenth-note elaborations that fall after are all based around minor sixths and tritones as before. This pattern will be observed diligently. Overall, in traditional terminology the tonality of the piece could be considered centric around the pitch G. The piece begins and ends with the
three-note motive, centered on G. The pitch centers apart from G maintain the same characteristic patterns found in the G-centered sections. The rhythmic content and established intervallic patterns are what determine tonality more than anything. Table 2 shows the pitch centers in *Invocation and Spirit Dance*.
The way Wiley utilizes the range of the clarinet is a noteworthy aspect of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*. Historically, composers have used the clarion register more for melodic and more powerful passages because of the clarion’s projection and sweet clarity; the chalumeau is typically a bit too warm and soft to project well, and the altissimo is often a bit harsh and reedy. However, Wiley favors the use of the warm chalumeau register for the bulk of the piece. The melodic content in the Invocation is completely in the chalumeau; the only time anything in a different range appears is in the clarion color trills towards the end of part A. Section B also opens in the chalumeau, leading with the beginning three-note motive. The range within the section slowly expands as more notes are added through arpeggiatic figures built on minor sixth and tritone intervals. The greatest peak of range in subsection b1 is in measure 63 on the high E4 trill. Emphasis on the chalumeau reappears in measure 68 with the beginning of the primary Dance ostinato figure. Using the chalumeau for the ostinato figure serves as a kind of unexpected, foreboding, soft force that is the undercurrent of the work. The first instance of the ostinato in the clarion begins in a sixteenth-note run into measure 94, where the ostinato is carried on C#2. The second Dance theme (b3) really unfolds in measure 102, emphasized by the exchange between duple and triple meters: 6/8, 5/8, 6/8, 7/8, 4/4. As the Dance melody grows, it slowly begins to cover a greater expanse of
range, eventually growing into the altissimo register, climaxing up to a fortississimo Bb4 in measure 129. Section C is mostly in the chalumeau, only moving to the clarion for color trills and rhythmic color trills.
For eight measures, A' is a return to the clarion for more color trills. When B' occurs at measure 184, it is back to the key center of G, repeating the beginning chalumeau three-note motive. The second statement of the Dance ostinato begins in measure 198; in both Dances, the progression through range accelerates and a span of two to three octaves might be covered in just three or four beats, such as F1 to Bb3 in measures 208-209 or G1 to C#3 in measures 211-212. The greatest displays of range begin in measure 219 as the piece builds and travels through several key centers until the end. An arpeggio in measure 230 spans from an E1 to a Bb4 in just three and a half beats followed by a trill on D3. The beginning of the coda, the next three measures are range-sweeping sixteenth note runs until the work once again climaxes arpeggiatically up to a Bb4. Originally, the trill five measures from the end was written on a G1, but at Nygren’s suggestion it was changed to a trill on G2 for greater dramaticism before ending on the same three-note chalumeau motive, G1 to Bb1 to G1. Figure 2 is a representation of the use of range in Invocation and Spirit Dance.
Two unique performance techniques are used in Invocation and Spirit Dance: the color trill and the rhythmic color trill. A color trill uses alternate fingerings to produce a trill on the same pitch, essentially a “timbre” trill. The goal is to produce a tone color that changes with the fingering alterations; fingerings used to produce the timbre changes in
the tone come primarily from Left F#/C#, Left E/B, and Right E/B keys on the clarinet. Because of the nature of the clarinet, specifically the fact that tones are produced by covering holes with one’s fingers and usually not by pressing a key (such as a saxophone or flute), there are relatively few effective color trills available to clarinetists. Thus, the use of the color trill is not widespread in clarinet literature. It is a very unique sound, one that hints at a world music influence. It appears first as follows:
Mm. 24-25. First instance of a color trill.
This notation indicates several things. Every other F# written should be of a different tone color and, unlike a regular trill, it should start rapidly and then ritard. The trill should emerge from and dissipate into nothing. Measure 31 is a stand-alone color trill and should simultaneously emerge from niente and accelerate towards the middle of the measure to a forte, then diminuendo and ritard into nothingness.
Mm. 31. Color trill that starts slowly, gradually accelerates, and then gradually ritards.
Secondly, Wiley implements the color trill in a rhythmic fashion. Using the timbre-altering fingerings that produce the color trill, the clarinetist taps out a prescribed rhythm. The desired rhythm is written above the sustained pitch to be rhythmically color trilled. For example, a sustained E3 is written in the staff and just above it is a written-in rhythm that the clarinetist executes by tapping the L F#/C# key.
Mm. 134-139. First instance of a rhythmic color trill.
Wiley states that the result should be “percussive in sound,” similar in sound to “a repeated note played on a wooden tone drum or slit drum.” The effect is striking because it combines the Invocation’s ethereal, floating sustained notes with the ostinato figure. The color trill and rhythmic color trill techniques are captivating for listener and performer alike.
_Invocation and Spirit Dance_ presents several challenges to clarinetists. The opening Invocation requires tremendous dynamic control and breath control since the clarinetist must emerge from and decay into niente seamlessly on low sustained pitches. When part B begins, it becomes evident that the clarinetist must also have great dynamic flexibility. Throughout the piece, it is common for Wiley to demand a crescendo from pianissimo to forte in only three or four beats.
Additionally, the first arpeggio figures are built on somewhat unusual and often wide intervals that require special attention to ensure accuracy. The wide leaps require a steadfast and consistent embouchure. These passages might be awkward to learn at first, but it is obvious that Wiley understands the clarinet because none of the leaps are impossibly demanding or challenging (as seen in some music where the mechanics of the clarinet are not taken into account).
When the first hint of the Dance idea begins in measure 47, the clarinetist is faced with rapidly changing meters—not only that, but rapidly changing meters that often alternate between duple and triple subdivisions. The piece is highly rhythmic; one cannot play it without an unwavering sense of subdivision and rhythm. Because of the relentless rhythmic pace, the performer must be reading ahead and concentrating the whole time. Not all of the repetitive rhythmic passages are exactly the same; some have a mere eighth-note difference.
The movement throughout the range of the clarinet becomes much wider and much more rapid as B progresses. The next test occurs at subsection b2 with the beginning of the ostinato. Set low in the chalumeau, it is important to articulate distinctly to avoid a stuffy sound while still maintaining a pianissimo dynamic. Endurance and concentration also becomes a challenge because from measure 81 to 129 there is never more than a dotted quarter rest to recuperate in the midst of rapidly changing meters, swift movement through range, constant fortes or fortissimos demanded, and repetitive hard accents. This relentless playing ends on a Bb4 in measure 129, a reach into the
extreme range of the instrument. In section C, the same dynamic trial of emerging from and decaying into niente from A is present but this time in the clarion range, making it even more difficult to control than before. The restatements of A and B in the second half of the piece pose the same obstacles that were seen before— even more so because B’ is a faster tempo with yet more continuous playing. It is a challenge to make it all the way through *Invocation and Spirit Dance* accurately and without losing any quality of sound due to tiring. Dynamic flexibility, immense concentration, endurance, musicality, and exact technique are needed to make it successfully through the work.
*Invocation and Spirit Dance* is an intricate and intriguing work for solo clarinet. Both the compositional and performance aspects of it are noteworthy. Compositional elements such as diminution and intervallic patterns generate growth and forward momentum until the very end. Performance-wise it is an enjoyable challenge, testing the clarinetist’s technique, musicality, and endurance. Influenced by world music, *Invocation and Spirit Dance* is a colorful and exciting piece that brings delight to both the listener and performer.
CHAPTER FOUR: OTHER WORKS FOR CLARINET BY FRANK WILEY
*Ritual Music* is the first piece Frank Wiley wrote involving clarinet. Composed in 1990, it was written for clarinet, alto saxophone, and multiple percussion. Clarinetist Ann Marie Bingham, saxophonist W. Edwin Bingham, and percussionist J. Steven Hall, members of the Triptych ensemble, commissioned the work. Triptych premiered *Ritual Music* during a tour in 1990 that included performances at the University of Texas at San Antonio and at the Southwest Festival of Contemporary Music, Southwest Texas State University.
*Ritual Music* presents some interesting challenges to performers. For the percussionist the greatest challenge is setting up and rehearsing with the enormous percussion ensemble needed. Requiring over 20 instruments, the percussion part is written in Timbrack notation. The percussion instruments are arranged like a piano or marimba keyboard, and each percussion instrument is assigned a specific note on the keyboard. For example, the bass drum might be represented by the note A-flat; it is notated as an A-flat in the staff, and it is positioned in the percussion ensemble where A-flat would be on a keyboard. Timbrack notation helps facilitate reading multiple percussion writing.
The piece begins with an introductory bell tolling effect in the crotales followed swiftly by the clarinet’s statement of the same three notes that begin *Invocation and Spirit Dance*, G1 to Bb1 to G1. The alto saxophone joins in, and a duet of long sustained
pitches begins, the percussionist serving to add color underneath. Time is free. A sextuplet motive is introduced in the clarinet that will reappear several times throughout the piece. Together, the performers build intensity before ushering in a marimba solo. Joining the percussionist 30 measures later, the winds float gently on top of the percussion figure in soft sostenuto whole notes. Gradually the winds become more active, interacting more with the marimba rhythmically and melodically. The percussionist moves to tom-toms, and the winds have a brief lyrical legato duet that disappears eerily into nothing. The percussionist issues a second bell toll on the crotales indicating a new section.
The next musical segment is very open and improvisatory, lasting approximately two minutes in duration. There are no measure lines; in the score the entire section is numbered as measure 195. The percussionist loosely outlines chords on the vibraphone, and the saxophonist and clarinetist alternate between playing their instruments and utilizing various percussion instruments such as a marx tree or woodblock. The mood is quite ethereal, bringing the listener to an almost trance-like state. Suddenly and surprisingly a tom-tom and bass drum solo materializes from the winds sustained notes, signifying the final section of Ritual Music. The trio collectively becomes more intense and insistent. There is a third bell toll, the tempo quickens, the meter becomes more unstable, and the winds engage in a complicated, frenzied duet. Climbing rapidly in their ranges, the winds finally end on high sforzando trills and a declamatory unison fortissimo eighth note.
Star-Fall Dances is the second piece Wiley wrote for clarinet. It was written for and dedicated to clarinetist Dennis Nygren and marimbist Michael Burritt, faculty members of Kent State University. A single-movement work, it was written and premiered in 1993.
The piece opens with the distinct sound color of “marimshots,” a technique in which the percussionist strikes a note on the marimba with the mallet head and stick simultaneously. The clarinet enters almost imperceptibly in the chalumeau register and moves lyrically through sustained pitches, some of which are color trilled. This pensive introduction is disrupted periodically by sudden sforzando marimshots. Both parts seamlessly grow in activity through diminution of notes values and the clarinet’s gradual ascension into a higher range. The clarinet part is chromatic in character, emphasizing minor seconds in particular. The meter turns more unstable and frantic before coming to a jolting halt and a brief return to the opening material of marimshots and chalumeau long tones.
The next section begins with a highly rhythmic marimba ostinato figure in 7/16 + 5/16 meter with the melody in the accented notes. The clarinetist joins with a dance-like melody on top the ostinato. Sometimes during this section the clarinet will diverge from the melodic line and play a measure or two of the ostinato. The marimba ostinato starts to dissolve and fragment, and the clarinet’s melody augments, increasingly more lyrical and sustained as this section fades away.
Slightly past halfway through the work, the next section is similar to the opening material: the clarinetist has a sustained chalumeau melody while the marimbist accompanies with soft color centered on a pedal F. A clarion melody floats over the marimba chord changes as the percussion part becomes more rhythmically defined. The marimbist decays into niente, and the clarinet begins a short virtuosic cadenza that segues into the last section of the piece.
Another rapid ostinato figure begins in the marimba in 7/8 + 7/8 + 7/8 + 9/8 meter. More emphatic and forceful, the duo drives forward to the end of the piece. Clarinet and marimba have a brief unison moment sharing the ostinato before suddenly separating and dropping down to a piano dynamic. The clarinetist trills and the marimbist rolls, all the while crescendoing for the last five measures towards the final cadence of *Star-Fall Dances*.
*Prizm* is written for clarinet and multiple percussion. Wiley’s fourth and most recent work involving clarinet, it was commissioned by the clarinet and percussion duo, PRIZM. *Prizm* was premiered at the 2003 International Clarinet Convention in Salt Lake City, Utah by duo members clarinetist Holly Haddad and percussionist Erick Saoud.
Many elements found in *Ritual Music*, the first piece Wiley wrote for clarinet in 1990, are reflected in *Prizm*. Written thirteen years later, *Prizm* hearkens back to the use of extended percussion and Timbrack notation. Requiring over fifteen percussion instruments, the piece presents the same challenges of organization, reading, and rehearsing.
The piece opens with two groups of descending sixteenth note triplets in the toms that serve as preparatory notes into a quarter-note downbeat of the next measure. This sextuplet motive is quite prominent in the work. The clarinetist springs off this downbeat to complete the motivic exchange between the performers that recurs throughout the very opening and closing material. *Prizm* is the only work of the four pieces that does not start with a slow introduction or sustained chalumeau tones in the clarinet. For the first third of the piece, the percussionist and clarinetist are highly animated and interactive. More so than any of the other three works, there is frequent scale-wise and step-wise motion in the clarinet from the beginning of the work. The percussionist adopts several ostinato-like figures until the duo unwinds into the next section.
The next section is quiet and introspective, similar to the rubato introductions of the other three pieces. In fact, the first three notes stated in the percussion and clarinet are the exact same notes found at the start of *Ritual Music and Invocation and Spirit Dance*, G1 to Bb1 to G1. The minor third interval is prominent in this transitional section. The percussion part remains distant but quite active underneath the clarinet’s chalumeau long tones in an ostinato figure in $\frac{5}{16} + \frac{7}{16} + \frac{5}{16} + \frac{3}{8}$ meter. The melody line in the clarinet becomes progressively busier but stays in the chalumeau register except for five swift ascending scales towards the end of this section. The excitement ceases very suddenly, giving way to bell tolling in the crotales similar to those found in *Ritual Music*, and the tempo, frenzied notes, and forceful dynamics subside.
A secondary rubato section starts with the bell tolling, and the clarinet once again has sustained pitches in the chalumeau but this time in multiphonics. The clarinetist switches between playing multiphonics and utilizing percussion instruments such as a mark tree and bamboo wind chimes. Becoming imperceptibly more prevalent, the percussionist gently develops into an ostinato underneath the clarinet alternating between 12/8 and 9/8. The duo grows steadily together. The melodic content in the clarinet remains fairly step-wise even up to the climax that ushers back into the opening material: sextuplet preparatory notes into a downbeat.
Rhythmically driving and exciting, the last section of Prizm changes meter constantly. Full of accents that highlight differing duple and triple subdivisions, it echoes the dance section of Invocation and Spirit Dance. Gaining momentum through scale-wise motion and extension into the uppermost range of the clarinet, the piece climaxes on a sforzando trill in the clarinet before ending with the sextuplet figure in tom-toms heard at the very opening.
Figure 1
Map of Growth and Contour of Invocation and Spirit Dance
A
B
mm 1
4
8
12
16
20
24
28
32
mm 33
43
52
61
69
78
87
96
104
113
122
133
Figure 2
Graph of Range of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*
Table 1
Overall Form of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Primary Section</th>
<th>Measures</th>
<th>Subsection</th>
<th>Measures</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A</td>
<td>1-32</td>
<td>a1</td>
<td>1-23 24-32</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>a2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>B</td>
<td>33-133</td>
<td>b1</td>
<td>33-67 68-101 102-133</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>b2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>b3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>C</td>
<td>134-174</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>A'</td>
<td>175-183</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>B'</td>
<td>184-241</td>
<td>b'1</td>
<td>184-197 198-230 231-241</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>b'2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>coda</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 2
Tonal Centers of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>A (a1)</th>
<th>A2</th>
<th>B (b1)</th>
<th>b2</th>
<th>b3</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>mm. 1-23</td>
<td>24-32</td>
<td>33-43</td>
<td>44-67</td>
<td>68-80</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>G1</td>
<td>~~~~</td>
<td>G1</td>
<td>~~~~</td>
<td>A1</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th></th>
<th>C</th>
<th></th>
<th>A'</th>
<th>B' (b'1)</th>
<th>b'2</th>
<th>Coda</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>130-133</td>
<td>134-139</td>
<td>140-152</td>
<td>153-162</td>
<td>163-174</td>
<td>175-183</td>
<td>184-197</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>G1</td>
<td>E3</td>
<td>F1/F#3</td>
<td>F1/Ab3</td>
<td>F1/Bb3</td>
<td>~~~~</td>
<td>G1</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
~~~: indicates transitional or unclear
## Table 3
Pitch-Class Sets of *Invocation and Spirit Dance*
### Pitch-Class Sets of Arpeggiated Material
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Measure</th>
<th>First Set</th>
<th>Second Set</th>
<th>Third Set</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Measure 41</td>
<td>[014]</td>
<td>[026]</td>
<td>[026]</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Measure 46</td>
<td>[014]</td>
<td>[026]</td>
<td>[0248]</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Measures 56-57</td>
<td>[014]</td>
<td>[0246]</td>
<td>[026]</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
### Pitch-Class Sets of Melodic Dance Theme
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Measures</th>
<th>First Set</th>
<th>Second Set</th>
</tr>
</thead>
</table>
### Pitch-Class Sets of Ostinato Dance Theme
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Pitch Center</th>
<th>Measures</th>
<th>Set</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A</td>
<td>70, 74, 77-79</td>
<td>[0134]</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>F#</td>
<td>83, 87-92</td>
<td>[0134]</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>C#</td>
<td>98-101, 212</td>
<td>[0134]</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bb</td>
<td>116</td>
<td>[0134]</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>C</td>
<td>125-128</td>
<td>[0134]</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>G</td>
<td>190, 194-198</td>
<td>[0134]</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Bibliography
Scores
Recordings
Program Notes
*Star-Fall Dances*. Kent State University Program Notes. Ludwig Chamber Music Series, October 10, 1993.
Interviews
|
manifesto
THE ROLE OF DESIGN IN THE 21st CENTURY
Success does not happen by accident, it happens by design.
Gordon Brown, Prime Minister, UK
THE ROLE OF DESIGN IN THE 21st CENTURY
DANISH DESIGNERS’ MANIFESTO:
A VISION FOR THE FUTURE OF DANISH DESIGN
Danish Designers is a professional hub for approximately 900 individual members, working professionally with design. Our mission is to promote the most intelligent use – as well as the understanding of the true value – of design and of the thinking, skills and capacities of Danish designers. We do this through a palette of services, addressing the personal, professional and political needs and interests of our members.
**PERSONAL identity**
- Career counselling
- Mentoring
- Design professional platforms
- Collegial support
- Visibility through printed and digital media
- Recognition through the right to use mDD
- Updated knowledge and information
- Security through dedicated insurance programmes
**PROFESSIONAL development**
- Business development counselling
- Legal counselling
- Collegial support
- Contractual support
- Strategic advice
- Professional identity
- Educational programmes, professional workshops, symposia and seminars
- National and international network
- Professional matchmaking
- Contact to possible clients
- Updated knowledge and information
- Participation in cross-disciplinary projects
**POLITICAL influence**
- Promotion of the competences and potential of design and professional designers
- Representation in public and political working groups, committees and boards
- Active participation and presence in relevant political debates
- Unified voice in public hearings
- Continuous contact to relevant organizations, political environments and media
- Active in research and educational communities
- Representation in design communities and relevant bodies in Scandinavia, Europe and globally
Danish Designers has existed in its present form as a multi-disciplinary and inclusive community of professionals since the establishment in 1995. However, the roots of the organization can be traced back to the late forties.
**Design for “people, profit and planet”**
The “triple bottom line” concept was introduced at the turn of the century by the UK based consultancy firm SustainAbility. A growing number of corporations worldwide have adopted the concept as a natural consequence of both legislative and market driven demands for transparency with regard to their environmental and social commitments. In fact, it is expected by responsible companies that they take their social and environmental bottom line as seriously as they have always done with regard to their financial bottom line.
Already in 1987, the Brundtland commission stated that the economic, social and environmental development needed to be balanced, sending a crystal clear signal that economic growth is only responsible if it “meets the needs of the present, without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs”. At the same time, the commission pointed out that a sustainable development also implies that concerns for nature do not threaten people’s living conditions or undermine a responsible, economic development. In other words, sustainable development calls for constant balance between the three factors reflected in the triple bottom line; social responsibility, financial feasibility and the well-being of the natural environment; between “people, profit and planet”.
When we have decided to link design to “people, profit and planet” as a fundamental prerequisite for all our dispositions and a platform for our communication, it is based on the assumption that the very core of design and the role of the designer is – in every single phase of a project and in every respect – to make the best possible choice between the alternatives at hand, balancing often contradictory interests, but also profiting from this tension in the endeavours of creating true innovation.
The objective of design has always been attractiveness and novelty – and about balancing the numerous options a development process offers. In a historical perspective the design process has most often had an artefact or another physical output as its outcome – either as industrially manufactured products, various forms of communicative solutions or optimization of dedicated, physical environments. In any case, the needs of the user, functionality and sensual appeal – in combination with creative exploitation of the inherent qualities of the material itself – have always been the
Thus the role of the designer has increasingly become that of facilitating qualified choices by individuals, enterprises or society between real and more sustainable alternatives than current ones – rather than creating more of what’s already there.
fundamental parameters of design activity, and always with the ambition of breaking boundaries as a driving force.
Today design is still about innovating within the same parameters and driven by the same ambition, but applied to a much broader spectre of challenges, where the designer is part of a value chain where innovation – that reaches far beyond material outcomes – is addressed by multi-disciplinary teams. Thus the role of the designer has increasingly become that of facilitating qualified choices by individuals, enterprises or society between real and more sustainable alternatives than current ones – rather than creating more of what’s already there.
Design is all about attractiveness, sensuality, aesthetics and functionality, about real people and real problems, about individuals and their encounters with systems, about encouraging responsible behaviour and choices, about challenging our prejudice, about fellowship and ownership, commonality of reference and cultural diversity, about expressing identities – for the individual, for groups of individuals, for corporate entities and for societies at large; design is all about “people, profit and planet”.
**Let us discuss what design can do – rather than what design is**
For decades – in Denmark as well as in most other parts of the world – an amazing number of people have occupied themselves with what has always seemed like a key question; what is design? We are not in any way diminishing the importance of these endeavours as means of articulating and communicating – thus creating awareness and understanding of – the value of design. The result is greater understanding of design issues both in the industry, in the political as well as the public domain. However, as design has changed its character and meaning over the past decades, having been continuously qualified by new add-ons, one must assume that the same will be the case for the decades to come.
Thus, our suggestion is that a more meaningful approach could be what design has already and actually contributed with, what it currently brings to the table of new solutions and which role one could expect design to play in the future – to the extent, of course, that any one of us has the right to predict tomorrow. Design does make a difference to artefacts and enhances physical objects. So far so good; no-one seems to contest design’s ability to beautify, simplify and add meaning to a product, adding value throughout the value chain from manufacturing through sales and distribution to the user – in the word’s most inclusive sense. The examples are many and well known. Our affluent lives are full of well designed products like furniture and light fixtures, kitchenware and home electronics, clothes and accessories, cars, park benches, milk cartons. They all seem inevitable either because of the functions they fulfil or because they fulfil other, more subtle needs in our everyday lives.
Material design contributes to define our lives and our identities. The objects we choose to make part of our work or play, homes or communities influence on our perception of quality of life, but they also help us to understand and master well-known as well as unexpected challenges in our daily lives.
Material design might be of even greater importance outside of our private sphere, even though not all of us will necessarily be confronted with it or take advantage of it directly. Such design could be applied to products dedicated to special user groups, such as assistive technologies for disabled people, medical equipment, gauges or CNC machines, lifts or drilling equipment, feeding robots for animals or cabin interiors for military helicopters. Actually, a product category, financial transaction or professional service where material design does not already play a significant role, seems almost unthinkable, as it influences on the quality and durability, functionality and usability of every single object being part of the delivery or value chain – from choice of materials and construction through manufacturing processes and assembly to distribution, sales, usage and disposal. More and more often, it doesn’t even stop there, as the adaptability of the disposed product to another value chain plays an increasingly important role.
However – just like design adds value to material products by making it more precious, more relevant or more competitive, design adds value by means of the same enhancement to immaterial deliveries such as private or public services, client relations or business transactions. By enhancing the interaction between the supplier of a service and you as the consumer of that service, design strengthens the relation, influences on your preferences and changes both yours and the supplier’s behaviour – either in correlation with the way the physical space or the user interface – in which the transaction
Design can be applied to an artefact or a specific solution to a specific challenge, but it can also be applied to a context – be it a physical space or environment or a configuration. If the context is physical in the form of a room or a built structure, the design will often be labelled architecture, interior architecture or environmental design. By organizing space through objects, light and sound, activities and objectives – applying the same parameters as earlier described – not only the space, but also the relations and experiences for which the space is dedicated, are designed, which adds value to the transactions in question, as if it were an object or a service.
Obviously environmental designers are able to add lots of value to private spaces like our homes or the CEO’s office. But the real and vastly untapped potential of interior architecture and design lies in more public spaces, where transparency and legibility, light, sound and colours become a question of safety and security, treatment and care, health, life and death, such as for example work environments and institutions for education and care. The same goes for spaces – or rooms – that are not even considered as such by many, because they are out in the open; the design of streets and squares, courts and yards. To design the environments in which people work or play, make decisions or philosophize, celebrate or mourn is at least as important a role for design as any of the previously described categories.
Design also determines the way we communicate with each other – as individual to individual and system to system, system to individual and individual to system. In this context, “system” might represent public authorities of any kind, but also companies, organizations or movements. One of the most conspicuous examples of such communication design is the way companies through “branding” and identity design try to convince consumers to choose their product or service instead of a competitor’s – both through media exposure prior to the transaction, at the point of transaction through packaging and both the physical and relational point of sales design.
Along the same principles public authorities use communication design extensively in their dialogue with enterprises and individuals through everything from flyers and reports to web-portals and self-service systems. Other examples of communication design come from the ways in which we search and share knowledge in our modern age with Google and Wikipedia as pioneers, but also how our ways of communication with each other changes rapidly as new user interfaces and social media are made available to us – such as skype, facebook and twitter. In the physical world wayfinding design enables us to find our way in complex and often unknown environments. One might say that the need for communication design and design that communicates – to facilitate all the deliberations we all have to engage in on a daily basis – increases constantly as does the complexity of our lives and our environments.
Until now, design has primarily been related to the aforementioned areas; physical objects – and to an increasing degree services, physical environments and communication. Including all the subordinate categories that, for a number of good reasons, will not be specifically dealt with in this publication. The domain currently being conquered by design, however, is the more subtle and rather intangible: how do we reach the goals we set? Some call it strategic design, others call it concept design while others again prefer the concept of “design thinking”. Irrespective of terminology, it covers the theory that design is a highly relevant approach to dealing with challenges, which does not necessarily call for a physical object, a specific service, a dedicated environment or a new communicative tool to be addressed and solved. Design has moved out of the domain in which a delivery is most often a tangible answer to a brief and into a domain, where design is seen as a valid resource where large, complex challenges are at stake, and where the designer works in close and equivalent collaboration with all kinds of other professional disciplines. Such challenges could be efficiency or profitability related – most probably on long term, or it could be related to local, regional or national identity or external relations, to loyalty issues and internal relations in large corporations, to competitiveness and innovation capacity, democratic processes and engagement, cross-sectorial dialogue and diversity issues. Not to forget the probably most urgent of all challenges: the need for a more sustainable corporate and political development and for a more responsible and balanced global order.
All of the reports presented until date show the same results. Design used strategically improves the overall performance of companies.
This rather radical change and enlargement of design as a concept and profession – which is inevitable – calls for cautious guardianship of design’s original meaning and its meaningfulness for the individual. Design as the key to better solutions to your own specific problem, design as the door to experiences that move you and activate your senses, design as means to improve everyday life, to simplify what doesn’t need to be complicated and to make the inaccessible accessible. Design as a way of making it easier for every one of us to understand and to relate to the world and the local environment we are part of.
Overview and terminology
We already described how Danish Designers currently see design as a concept and a profession; as a vital tool to increase corporate, national and regional competitiveness – “design for profit”, as a significant factor in terms of influencing people’s lives through the products and services, spaces and environments, relations and experiences that shape our everyday – “design for people” and as a pivotal resource with regard to promoting more sustainable products and services through the choice of materials and processes with consequences for sourcing, manufacturing, use and disposal – in addition to the power of design in terms of promoting responsible choices through consumption and behaviour – “design for planet”.
In this chapter, we will elaborate on how we believe that design can actually play an important role with regard to each one of the three levels.
Moreover, and to link our views to the political agenda, we will describe and comment on each one of the three pillars on which most design policies are built; design research and education, design support and design promotion. Finally, we will advance our own views on how design political initiatives within each domain realistically could further design’s potential vis-a-vis some of the challenges it is expected to address in a not so distant future.
Design for profit
Design’s significance as regarding the strengthening of the competitive capacities within the corporate environment is today rarely questioned. In particular during the last five–six years, a number of surveys have been made – first in Europe, then followed by the US and several Asian countries – examining the direct correlation between corporations’ use of design and their performance measured in growth in revenue and profitability as well as in their ability to attract and retain qualified staff and finally in terms of corporate image and brand value. All of the reports presented until date show the same results. Design used strategically improves the overall performance of companies.
Growth is fairly easily measured. All the other benefits from using design and working with designers, however, might be rather more complicated to assess and document. Notably the effects deriving from improved efficiency, process optimization and qualitative improvements may be difficult to prove as deriving directly from the use of design. This problem is accentuated when examining public institutions and enterprises, trade unions, non-governmental organizations and cultural institutions as well as corporations within certain sectors with extremely long development cycles, such as the medical industry. Notwithstanding, we dare to make the claim that even within those forms of competitive environments, design contributes significantly to the overall performance.
We already discussed that design is a source of attractiveness and meaningful relations. Both are crucial elements in the pursuit of attracting new “clients” as well as in retaining existing ones – no matter whether they are actually customers as such or they are members, volunteers, satisfied citizens or applicants for vacant jobs.
Design revolves around newness and is about identifying and accommodating hitherto unmet needs. Private enterprises – regardless of whether their market is made up of consumers or professional entities – are measured by their ability to innovate and on whether they are perceived as leaders of the pack or as followers and copycats.
Design is about smartness – however, in the positive sense of the word. About doing things in smarter ways, choosing materials and processes more intelligently, harvesting more from already existing material and human resources and minimizing capital investments through procedural and relational substitution, rather than new hardware and new staff. In other words, design is – also – about saving both time, money and human resources.
Design is also about rethinking organizational and bureaucratic traditions – not least through active involvement of employees, clients and users and through disclosing and exploiting resources that are already present in the organization and among existing stakeholders.
clients and users and through disclosing and exploiting resources that are already present in the organization and among existing stakeholders. Not only does this contribute to savings and improved efficiency. The work environment also benefits from it through more loyal and more dedicated employees – thus also the ability to attract more talented and qualified employees.
Finally, design is about communication – about understanding and harnessing a company’s identity, its history and its message to a defined audience. Design helps corporations, organizations and public bodies – even nations – to increase their brand value by communicating their values and ideas, their social responsibility and commitment or their intentions to enter into commercial, social or cultural relations. Verbally as well as visually – in any conceivable format, and in virtual as well as in real life environments.
**Design for people**
Design has always started with the aspirations and dreams of the individual, its acknowledged as well as unarticulated needs – long before concepts like user-driven innovation and user-centered design were introduced. Notwithstanding the fact that design not always had positive effects on the user or humankind as such, that the designer had envisaged or intended.
Design fundamentally builds on an analysis of what could possibly be done to improve the perceived quality of any given situation. Approached in a design methodological manner, the analysis will lead to a number of alternative scenarios – all of which represent an improvement compared to the present. The ultimate choice will most often reflect conscious deliberations of different and often contradictory concerns. The most immediate and intuitive adoption of any solution, however, seems to occur when human factor interests are given the same weight and priority as the economical, and for a number of good reasons.
Design respects the sensual sensitivity of the user. Not only the visual, but rather the combined – and rarely rational – sensual reaction triggered by the experience. If the solution resonates aesthetically with the user, it will automatically be perceived as relevant, thus somehow appeal to any one out of numerous forms of engagement. In the case of a physical object, it might incite usage or merely visual or tactile enjoyment. A well designed service or relation invites the user into active engagement, while well designed – most often visual – communication is more easily and immediately understood – increasing the probability of the user actually relating to the message communicated.
Design is also a means of promoting involvement, inclusion and coherence by offering access to products and services that are often – and rightly so – perceived exclusive and prohibited by many because of their physical or mental impairment, or simply because they are different from the vast majority. Sometimes product or services need to be designed specifically to such – often marginal – groups, but more often than we think, a more inclusive approach to designing products and services – taking into consideration the needs of both able-bodied and disabled users in the development process would benefit all. This concept and methodology – often called Design-For-All or Universal Design – is fortunately being adopted by more and more sectors and product and service categories, not least because such demands of inclusion are currently being fronted by The European Council and are also articulated specifically in UN’s Convention on the rights of people with disabilities.
Irrespective of whether one is disabled or not, the challenges we all face on a daily basis tend to appear increasingly complex to most of us – even complicated. However, as design and designers have clearly contributed to this it seems quite probable that they are also able to offer a reverse contribution; to simplify and to make things more comprehensible and accessible. By removing the superfluous and focusing on the essential or by making everyday choices easier and better informed – not by fewer or more, but by better and more instinctively legible alternatives – be it with regard to tangible products or environments or to the services, relations and communication we rely upon.
A quite new approach to the exploitation of design’s potential has materialized in a row of projects, often referred to as service design. This concept covers design of services in general – private as well as public. The private services have already been discussed in a previous chapter, as have the measurable effects in terms of savings and effectiveness in the public sector. Another – more subtle, but equally important effect within the public sector, however, is the reduction or elimination of barriers between the individual citizen and the system that design has proved to offer. Confidence and tolerance are fundamental preconditions...
for a meaningful dialogue between the two parties – achieved through adding familiarity and relevance, by involving the user in the development or customization of the service and by creating a physical and communicative environment, which resonates with the user’s feeling of comfort. All of which are key elements in the design approach. Knowledge of design and the ability to evaluate any given product, service or message is important to build an understanding of space and the objects we are surrounded by as well as the information and the experiences we are subjected to. Understanding the intentions behind any given solution is crucial in order to decipher the codes and signals embedded in the solution – enabling us to make better and more informed choices. Confidence in the products and services we meet as consumers and in man–made environments leads to self–confidence through a better understanding of our own identities and a more conscious relation to our experiences and our choices. Thus a fundamental understanding of design is a vital element in any human being’s breeding.
Design for planet
Most people seem to agree that the greatest challenges facing us are linked to the very survival of the earth. Global warming is the most conspicuous and currently the most controversial development, but other problems are – either on a global scale or in parts of the world – equally gigantic. The lack of access to clean water is threatening the subsistence of millions of people. The emission of various gases not only damages the ozone layer but also damages the health and well–being of animals and human beings. For the latter the quality of life is at stake while for the remaining population of the earth the consequences are often seen through the extinction of entire species. Current reproduction prognoses point at a net growth of the world’s human population of approximately 50 per cent – all of which will fight with the rest of us for already scarce natural resources. Just to mention a few of the realities that we face.
Design and designers can neither save the planet nor humanity on their own. However, design and designers can make a significant difference and contribute to a development that matches the more optimistic rather than the most depressive scenarios being discussed globally.
Design is in its most basic form about making one alternative more attractive than another; a responsible choice more attractive than a less responsible one. As the future of the planet cannot be secured through technological innovation only, one of the roles of design will be to define the needs and aspirations that future technologies should fulfil. Many emerging economies face a historical choice. Should their people have the right to experience the same material growth as the western world and thereby perpetuate our pressure on the earth; far beyond the tolerance of the planet despite modern environmental technologies and other good forces? Or should we concentrate on providing better alternatives by designing products and services, urban and rural communities, physical and virtual infrastructures and visions of what a good life is that are compatible with the planet’s ability to cope? The same questions, by the way, are at least as relevant to ask in our own part of the world.
Not all designers can or should address such major, global issues. But no designers can excuse themselves from taking responsibility. All designers have an influence on the future of the earth through their work, and they can all work towards more sustainable solutions and to optimize the products, services or environments they work with within the limitations of the task at hand.
Conscious endeavours at decreasing the complexity of a product will most often improve the chances of recycling – at the same time as it will most likely mean less raw materials and lower energy consumption in the manufacturing phase. The contribution of design in terms of new innovative solutions, better material choices and smarter manufacturing processes often set new standards within product categories or with regard to how we solve any given problem. As such, design – in close and fruitful collaboration with technological innovation – helps substituting harmful processes and materials. Good examples are found within such areas as fixtures for light and electricity, water, heat and light.
One important factor for more sustainable production is the choice of materials and suppliers. In a globalized world, an increasing part of the actual manufacturing takes place in poor countries. Thus, a meticulous choice of suppliers and demands of both environmentally and socially responsible behaviour could influence hugely on as different parameters as the living conditions of the workers and their families and the overall environmental consequences. More than three out of four decisions directly influencing on the final choice of
materials and manufacturing processes are made in the design phase. Another relevant issue therefore is whether one can justify a material or component to be transported by plane or container halfway around the world if alternatives of equal quality and of local origin are available. Fundamentally speaking, sustainable design solutions are about making informed choices where concerns for the planet carry equal weight to concerns for the user and the bottom line of the client for whom the design is developed.
At the end of the day, the most important role of design today is to ensure that the most responsible solution – whether design driven or driven by technology – is also perceived by the client and the user as the most attractive. One of the most effective ways of achieving this is to create products that are more meaningful to the individual and that are kept and cherished rather than being disposed of and replaced long before their functional lifetime has come to an end. Moreover: to help individuals making responsible choices in their daily lives – based on knowledge and on desire rather than on fear and regulations. And finally – as designers have always done – to create a movement, but this time around a movement where concern for our common future and responsible choices become the most important parameters for those who want to be seen as pioneers.
As already mentioned, most design policies are built upon three pillars; design education and research, design support and design promotion. In the following, we will discuss how each one – in particular and in combination – can contribute to profiting even more from design’s potential in relation to the challenges already listed.
**Design research & education**
A basic assumption in order for design to be taken seriously as a profession and as a relevant methodology vis-a-vis commercial, social and cultural, as well as the complex global and systemic challenges we face is the existence of sufficient scientifically valid knowledge about the effects of design, about design processes and methodologies, the role of the designer and design theory as such. This requires both theoretical and project based research as well as active sourcing of knowledge and experiences from abroad. And it requires relevant structures and models, which can cater for the necessary flow of knowledge from the source of the research to design students and practitioners and to others, for whom this knowledge is of vital importance and value.
A first step could be to conduct a thorough mapping of the entire design field, on which the visions for a future structure for design education in Denmark could be based. Such a map should cover both design schools under the Ministry of Culture and design courses at numerous universities and polytechnics as well as the many two and three-year design programmes under the Ministry of Education. Such a mapping – within both quantitative and qualitative parameters – has never taken place in Denmark before, which unfortunately also means that no comprehensive map of Danish design education actually exists. Ideally, the end product of the mapping would be a precise and professionally evaluated portrait of each programme, followed by a strategy and concrete initiatives to encourage cross-disciplinary and cross-institutional dialogue as well as synergies from joint research, educational modules and development projects. As a whole, this would strengthen the entire area as well as Denmark’s competitive advantages in pursuit of attracting the brightest students and the most interesting partners.
Based on such a mapping a future restructuring of the design educational setup in Denmark will build upon a more solid platform of factual knowledge about each institution’s design professional, as well as economical and structural, strengths and weaknesses. Parallel with a coordinated strategy within the educational area, the development of a coordinated research initiative is crucial. Such an initiative – probably an independent research centre – would ensure dialogue and dissemination of knowledge between the many different institutions and stakeholders, in addition to conducting own research and being responsible for sourcing and processing of relevant knowledge generated abroad. Whether part of the same entity or independently, a similar role needs to be filled to ensure overview of and coordination between the educational programmes on a lower level to guarantee the most complete picture of our accumulated intellectual capital within the design domain possible. This would offer an unprecedented opportunity to schematize which courses are offered at which schools and at which level, which research is being undertaken, which projects and collaborative activities are taking place and which international relations are being pursued by whom at any given time. Moreover, the access to knowledge and the most recent
The designer of the future is expected to deal with concepts like service design, strategic design, user-centered design, digital design, experience design or interaction design – and yet retaining their role as creators of beauty and functionality.
Research show that most companies would actually benefit from integrating design into their daily operations, while those reporting the highest output from investments in design work both with internal and external design resources.
Design support
Another precondition for optimization of design’s potential is that decision makers in private and public companies and organizations responsible for development of new or revaluation of existing products and services know the value of design applied strategically and professionally. This, however, requires an open dialogue and exchange of knowledge about existing and foreseen needs and barriers for innovation, but also a targeted campaign to challenge the attitudes towards integrating design, for many still representing new and undocumented methods and competences.
Bridging suppliers and procurers of design services through the promotion of a common understanding and a common language is most often referred to as design support; one of the traditional design policy pillars. For many years, this mission has mainly been delegated to Danish Design Center. Until the turn of the century, DDC was primarily a knowledge centre targeting industry and the design profession alike. From 2000 – when the institution moved to new prestigious premises including showrooms and conference facilities – the strategic priorities and profile have changed with changing political demands, public funding and leadership. Today DDC appears to have a rather clear profile with strategic focus on communicating to the industry the value of design as a tool for innovation. In addition to their own activities, there is also a stronger focus on regional design support and more direct contact to potential users of design through packages including analysis of the company’s capability to and benefit from using design professionally. Other activities are still part of DDC’s contract with the Ministry of Economic and Business Affairs, but with decreasing prominence, among others exhibition activities where budgets have been reduced significantly the last couple of years. Activities targeted at the design industry are no longer a strategic priority for DDC, which makes the bridge building project somewhat more difficult than previously, even though collaboration with the design industry does exist. One recent example is the development of an entirely new designer database. The more public profile, which to some extent is catered for through exhibitions, has benefited from the transformation of INDEX: – the world’s largest design award – from being an independent institution to being a subsidiary of DDC, and from dedicated funds to organize an international design week, which took place for the first time in the fall of 2009. While the already mentioned activities make up the nucleus of the Danish design support policy, other government initiatives, that have not been part of the official design policy to some extent, have had greater effect on the aforementioned bridge building than the more dedicated initiatives. The most ambitious initiative has been the
research will be made more easily accessible to corporations and society at large.
Within numerous disciplines, Danish design education holds a fairly high level. However, there are also areas where there is clearly room for improvement. The designer needs to know the referential cultural framework of his or her profession to materialize the core of the design tradition he/she wish to project. However, design has changed, as has the role of the designer. Beyond adding aesthetic and functional value to an object, the designer is expected to fulfil a vastly more complex role. The designer of the future is expected to deal with concepts like service design, strategic design, user-centered design, digital design, experience design or interaction design – and yet retaining their role as creators of beauty and functionality. This new role requires knowledge about user involvement and analysis, an understanding of business strategies and commercial consequences, project management capabilities and communicative skills in addition to knowledge of crafts, materials and processes.
Just like design education at all levels needs to be strengthened and more clearly differentiated to cater for an increasingly varied demand for design competence by the market design as an approach to creative and critical thinking needs to be offered elsewhere in the educational system – from the higher classes of elementary school through post-graduate and further education.
As the demand for design services changes and grows, mechanisms to adjust design education accordingly and progressively need to be developed to avoid sudden needs of dramatic reforms. Even though – most probably – the need for designers will increase, each individual educational institution must ensure that the quality and focus of their programmes are assured continuously so that their graduates are able to apply their competences to real life problems and make a living from it from day one, thus also strengthening Denmark as a design nation.
Programme for User Driven Innovation that in less than three years has co-funded more than 30 large-scale projects where design methodology and competence have played a key role. Never before has the testing and documentation of design’s effects for private enterprises and public services enjoyed the allocation of larger funds. Through a variety of cross-disciplinary projects the programme has offered valuable insight into how broad the scope of design is and the effects that design and designers have on innovation processes. Furthermore, the programme has proven to be a unique opportunity to focus on design, to build design capacity and knowledge and to showcase the fruitfulness of collaboration between designers and other professionals – not only in Denmark, but also in the international design community.
Quite recently it was decided to close the programme. However, Danish Designers believe that it would be highly relevant to draw on the positive experiences from it when discussing future strategies for design support, focusing even more on cross-disciplinary, large scale and diverse projects. Design is not merely a service one commissions from project to project and from designers or design firms, just like any other consultancy service. For some companies this way of working with design is ideal, provided that the conditions and infrastructure for finding the right partner is there. Rather less focus has been granted the documented value of employing designers and integrating design and design thinking into the organization. In most European countries, economies like Korea and Japan and the US the share of practicing designers employed in manufacturing or service companies is significantly higher than in Denmark. This can probably be explained by historical and structural differences, the typical size of companies and the sectors in which they are engaged, but both experience from abroad and research show that most companies would actually benefit from integrating design into their daily operations, while those reporting the highest output from investments in design work both with internal and external design resources.
We therefore recommend that the focus on design as an integrated, internal resource to strengthen design thinking, cross-disciplinarity and innovation capacity in Danish companies – within manufacturing as well as services, private as well as public – is strengthened. Finally, the concept of design management needs to be paid more attention to – to optimize the effect of the design activities already invested in strengthening a company’s market position.
Design Promotion
Design promotion is the term most often used on the communication of design to a non-professional audience – to the interested citizen, to visitors to Denmark and observers of what is happening on the international design scene, to school children and students – in short – to all for whom an understanding of design means a better understanding of the material as well as immaterial world around them.
Design promotion does happen in Denmark, but is as of today not an articulated part of the Danish design policy. To the extent that the value of design is communicated to a wider audience, it is taken care of by a museum like the Danish Museum of Art and Design, Trapholt, Koldinghus and Louisiana – just to mention the most prominent, as part of export promotion initiatives organized by the Trade Council in collaboration with industry, by other government bodies like the Danish Arts Agency or through organizations or institutions’ participation in international events in Denmark or abroad. Finally – and yet in its very early stages – design has made its way to the curricula of elementary and secondary schools.
Design is all around us – an omnipresent factor in most people’s lives, though more so in our own part of the world than many others, emphasizing the importance of being able to understand design to read our environments, the products and services we consume and the information we are constantly subjected to. What is coincidental and what has been deliberate? Why one solution and not the other? Which motives were determining for any given solution? And what kind of signals do I send to the world around me through the material choices that I make? Understanding design is fundamental for making conscious and informed choices, making us more discriminating consumers and better citizens. Seen through such optics it seems puzzling that design promotion is not part of the actual design policy, but deposited in the care of undoubtedly highly competent cultural institutions, but also rather randomly at various ministries’ and agencies’, organizations’ and networks’ discretion.
By many people design is perceived as something rather closely linked to lifestyle, fashion and purchasing power – a picture
that is manifested repeatedly every weekend in the newspapers’ supplements with focus on the home, on current trends and on “the good life” as they – as many people do – see it. There is no reason to question the role that design plays as a measure of perceived wealth and prosperity. What might cause some concern is the lack of focus on design as the actual source of wealth and wellbeing. Our notion of a product’s quality derives from our ability to decode its form and function, its material quality and its identity. Exactly the same ability would enhance our judgement of a public service if we were given the tools needed to understand the motives and limitations, the professionalism and the genuine interest that had been invested in creating a good experience for the individual. At the end of the day we would all benefit from all of us being able to render a more qualified appreciation of the services we offer each other.
Danish design is a reflection of Denmark, just like Scandinavian design of Scandinavia and Italian design of Italy. Hence, design promotion is also about showing who we are – or rather who we want to be – to people from other parts of the world, regardless of whether we want them to buy our products or services where they come from or to spend their savings on a vacation in Denmark. In any case, it is relevant to discuss what picture we see of ourselves through the prism of design. Do we want to uphold the image of Denmark and Danish design as a craft-based society, almost exclusively concerned with aesthetics and material quality, or do we wish to be seen as a society where the user is not only asked, but also involved in the development of products and services and where corporate social responsibility is not merely a buzzword? A culture, where access to the common goods, equality and the freedom of speech and freedom of religion are not up for discussion. If we want to portray Denmark as an interesting partner, as a source of inspiration and as a role model for the 21st century, we need to support initiatives that show how we have used and use design to create and constantly improve a society of which we – most of the time – can be proud.
Despite the fact that Danish design has developed radically during the last two decades it needs urgent renewal both at home and abroad, and even though one of the most classic images of Danish design is a three-legged chair, anyone who has sat on Arne Jacobsen’s original “ant” chair has experienced its instability. Which we presume was the reason for adding a fourth, stabilizing leg. For the same reason – as already announced – Danish Designers propose adding a fourth design policy pillar to the three already existing – a pillar that hereinafter will be referred to as
**Design Commitment**
The largest single procurer of products and services in Denmark – whereof a substantial part is developed and manufactured domestically – is beyond comparison the public sector; national, regional and local authorities as well as public companies and institutions. Some are already experienced users of design services, such as the national railways DSB and the national broadcasting company DR – either of design as an integrated service or as specific design services like visual communication or digital interaction design. This goes for ministries and state agencies, educational and cultural institutions, health care and independent public companies. And yet, design is not even close to playing the role for the development of the welfare society we know that it can – based on both recent and long-term experiences – both in Denmark and elsewhere. In the most recent round of design support initiatives launched in 2007, a fair amount of money was allocated to a limited number of pilot projects within the area known as service design. Supported by the Programme for User Driven Innovation, a number of public institutions like hospitals and municipal elderly care institutions have had the opportunity to test design as an approach to address their specific challenges. The unanimous verdict has been one of great satisfaction among the participants and more importantly – among the end users. In other words, the assumption that design has an important and unquestionably relevant role to play in the further development of the welfare society has been duly confirmed.
For this and a number of other good reasons, further investments in addressing some of the problems facing the public sector by involving design professionals have to be made. Design professionals, but not only designers. The best results have been achieved through inviting integrated, cross-disciplinary project teams where designers work alongside and on equal terms with other professionals with backgrounds in economics, social and technical sciences. Perhaps even in close collaboration with senior officials within ministries and govern-
ment agencies, regions and municipalities. What is important is that we generate more experience from using design in complex public sector projects to benefit from the same documented effects of using design as the private sector has benefited from for a while – for the common good and for every single citizen depending on his/her relation to the public sector.
Taking on a pilot role would seem a logical consequence of the weight that the public sector carries in our economy – through integrating design thinking and design in the endeavours at filling the growing gap between ever increasing expectations from the users of public services and the limitations on the same services due to scarcity of both financial and human resources. At the same time – as the largest client account for numerous manufacturers – the public sector ought to lead the way in demanding higher quality and better designed products to increase the user experience – whether the users are patients or clients, employees or in any other category. Just like all Danish municipalities are obliged to have an architecture policy, weighing architectural quality alongside all other relevant parameters when granting building permits and planning new public buildings, design policies weighing design quality as equal parameter to price and durability should be mandatory when procuring products and services.
Design is already – both in Denmark and in a number of other European countries – a documented factor in the pursuit of better relations between the individual and the system, the feeling of security in vulnerable areas, social and ethnic integration and better work conditions for both the people who deliver public services and the citizens who receive them. This knowledge needs to be transformed into targeted initiatives to exploit the potential that design represents for further development of the common good. Not only in the next edition design policy, but also as an integrated and inevitable part of all relevant policies where design effectiveness has already been proven.
**Danish design in a Scandinavian, European and global context**
The heritage we share with the other Scandinavian countries – materialized in a joint visual language and in shared values – has already been discussed. The three countries – Norway, Sweden and Denmark – enrich each other in this communion, but we also have the privilege of sharing a well-established and valuable identity: Scandinavian Design, a brand identity that surprisingly is rarely used. One might wonder why the efforts at strengthening design – both in Scandinavia and globally – are not more coordinated than seems to be the case. We do not believe that coordinated Scandinavian initiatives could or should replace national initiatives, but we do see an untapped potential in adding a strong and historically valid layer of Scandinavian Design to the three individual and national policies.
On the same note, one may ask why Denmark has chosen not to make itself more heard in the development of a European design initiative. The Bureau of European Design Associations – BEDA – represents design organizations and design schools throughout Europe and has worked for decades to encourage the development of a European design policy. Partly as a result of this activity a new European policy for innovation – integrating design for the first time – will be launched in 2010. During the preparatory work, a lot of inspiration has been found in Danish initiatives throughout the last decade or so, but it would be gravely exaggerated to give Denmark any credit for having them turned into benchmarks for our European neighbours. With our solid experience and the position we have achieved as a design nation, we ought to play a much more significant role in Europe – as well as on the international design community – than until today. Finally, it would make a whole lot of sense to ensure that a future Danish design policy aligns logically to and takes the new European platform into consideration.
While already using design actively in the global promotion of Denmark, design plays a minute role within sectors such as international aid and development and in other areas where Denmark has global commitments. Design has rarely been put to its test in development projects in the third world even though one of the most ambitious design policy initiatives to date is INDEX: which in 2005, 2007 and 2009 alike offered solid documentation for design’s capacity as a relevant approach to complex problems and the consequences of poverty, natural disasters and hazardous living conditions – in areas where both human survival and the order of nature are at stake. Design should be part of our global agenda and will only get there if a global perspective on what design can do is integrated into our agendas on design research & education, design support, design promotion and design commitment.
Recommendations
As announced in the introduction a list of tangible and realistic recommendations as to how we strengthen the role of design in the 21st century will serve as a summary of the foregoing discussion.
**Design research & education**
*Danish Designers recommend*
- a thorough mapping of the entire design field, on which the visions for a future structure for design education in Denmark could be based
- the development of a national strategy for design education – covering the design schools under the Ministry of Culture and design courses at numerous universities and polytechnics as well as the many two- and three-year long design programmes under the Ministry of Education
- the development of a coordinated design research initiative is crucial. Such an initiative would ensure dialogue and dissemination of knowledge between the many different institutions and stakeholders, in addition to conducting own research and being responsible for sourcing and processing relevant knowledge generated abroad
- stronger focus on user-involvement practice and analysis, business strategies and commercial consequences, project management capabilities and communicative skills in addition to retained focus on knowledge of crafts, materials and processes
- collaboration between crafts-based material design and other traditional design disciplines on one hand and other design disciplines should be encouraged.
**Design support**
*Danish Designers recommend*
- stronger focus on cross-disciplinary development projects than until today
- focus on design as an integrated, internal resource to strengthen design thinking, cross-disciplinarity and innovation capacity in Danish companies – within manufacturing as well as services, private as well as public – as well as design management to optimize the effect of the design activities already invested in strengthening a company’s market position
- the establishment of three targeted design support programmes, inspired by Programme for User Driven Innovation – however adjusted to cater for the unique challenges we know from innovation projects where neither the end result nor the detailed process is known in advance – for service design, design and sustainability and design and CSR
- access to hands-on knowledge for all companies for whom design seems like a possibility – among other things by upgrading and strengthening design knowledge and competence in the regions
- bridging the gap between designers and design procurers through a joint knowledge sharing platform – both virtually and by encouraging the development of a real life meeting-place.
**Design promotion**
**Danish Designers recommend**
that funds are dedicated to strengthen design promotion – via already existing players – to school children and students, other specific target groups and the general audience
that the operational responsibility and curating of design exhibitions in Danish Design Center – with the exception of exhibitions linked to INDEX: and the international design week – is transferred to the Danish Museum of Art and Design
the establishment of a new council that is given the responsibility of continuously updating and defining the image of Denmark portrayed through design at international exhibitions and fairs and in connection with trade council activities
a new foundation to support design promotion and development projects, as design projects – together with architecture – have no access to funding from the Danish Arts Council
that design as an approach to creative and critical thinking is offered throughout the educational system – from the higher classes of elementary school through postgraduate and further education
Denmark to take on the role as pioneer in advocating design’s potential in international fora like the Nordic Council, European Union and a variety of UN organisations.
**Design commitment**
**Danish Designers recommend**
that we generate more experience from using design in complex public sector projects to benefit from the same documented effects of using design as the private sector has benefitted from for a while – for the common good and for every individual citizen depending on his/her relation to the public sector
that we transform our existing knowledge of design as a documented factor in the pursuit of better relations between the individual and the system, the feeling of security in vulnerable areas, social and ethnic integration and better work conditions for both the people who deliver public services and the citizens who receive them into targeted initiatives to exploit the potential that design represents for further development of the common goods
that all Danish municipalities – just as they are obliged to have an architecture policy, weighing architectural quality granting building permits and planning new public buildings – develop design policies securing design quality as equal parameter to price and durability when procuring products and services and to ensure Design for All principles being applied in accordance with UN’s Convention on the rights of people with disabilities
that design is adopted as a relevant approach – as documented by among others INDEX: – in development projects in areas where both human survival and the order of nature are at stake.
“The natural sciences are concerned with how things are. Design on the other hand, is concerned with how things ought to be.”
Herbert Simon |
[REMOVED] |
Interdisciplinary perspectives on building thermal performance
Chris Tweed and Gabriela Zapata-Lancaster
Welsh School of Architecture, Cardiff University
Abstract
The performance of buildings remains topical, but in many current conversations definitions of ‘good performance’ are taken for granted. Building performance evaluation tends to be dominated by studies of how buildings behave with reference to technical standards. However, past studies show that perceptions of good performance are based on broader understandings of what buildings offer, often augmented by interpretations emerging from historical social practices and cultural context.
This paper considers different approaches to describing thermal experience as one way to explore what is meant by ‘performance’, arguing that just as the social sciences have enriched earlier approaches to describing relations between people and the thermal environment, there are benefits to embracing humanities-based approaches to describe thermal experience. Architectural theory is replete with examples of a deliberate focus on environmental aspects, but its methods and concepts rarely cross the line from ideation to evaluation. This paper disrupts current notions of building performance evaluation by positing alternative perspectives of how people experience buildings. It discusses how current methods might co-exist with phenomenological insights in ‘thick descriptions’ of how buildings ‘perform’ and considers possible contributions from modes of inquiry in the humanities to describe thermal experience, illustrated by authors’ research in housing.
Introduction
Building Performance Evaluation (BPE) remains topical, with increasing emphasis on securing value for money and satisfying the expectations of clients and building users. It is still largely a technical exercise having developed from post-occupancy evaluations (POE) in the 1980s (Preiser and Vischer, 2004)
consisting of measurements of various physical parameters supplemented by satisfaction surveys of occupants. While its popularity may have wavered in the intervening period, it has flourished over the past decade in the UK mainly because of an interest in meeting emerging CO2 reduction targets. The upsurge of interest in evaluation studies is manifest in significant investment in research programmes from the Technology Strategy Board (TSB, now Innovate UK) (Palmer et al, 2016), new educational programmes for built environment professionals, and a focus in the construction industry on the ‘performance gap’ between desired and predicted performance and measured or actual performance in operation (Sunikka-Blank and Galvin, 2012; de Wilde, 2014; Gupta et al, 2015).
The focus of performance evaluation has shifted since the 1980s. Back then, although energy consumption was a concern following the oil crises of the 1970s, poor building performance often referred to visible degradation of the fabric, such as structural cracks or rising damp (Ransom, 1987; Richardson, 2000; Carillion Services, 2001). With improved building practices informed by extensive technical studies, failure is now more likely to refer to complaints from occupants about unsatisfactory environmental conditions and the putative effects these may have on their well-being or productivity (Vischer, 2007; Bluyssen, 2009). And with rises in the general standard of living, inhabitants’ expectations of conditions in modern buildings are higher (Chappells and Shove 2005). While the quality of inhabitants’ experience in buildings is now recognized as important to assessing building performance, inhabitants’ behaviour is also seen as a significant influence on how a building performs (Stevenson and Leaman, 2010). Thus, people are now recognised as active creators of their environment not simply as passive recipients of conditions created by buildings and their technical systems. Following the lead from Cole (Cole, Brown et al., 2010) we distinguish those two roles by using the terms ‘occupant’ to denote passivity and ‘inhabitant’ to reflect agency, but recognise that they are never mutually exclusive.
In everyday practice, the concept of ‘performance’ and definitions of ‘good performance’ are taken for granted and rarely considered problematic. Discussions tend to be dominated by technical understandings of how buildings behave with reference to agreed standards. The existing methods and tools are good at telling us what happens in buildings and in quantifying various aspects of measurable performance. While some of the methods consider human aspects, these methods do not aim to explain why inhabitants feel or
behave as they do. Without that kind of understanding it is difficult to propose solutions for poor performance or to design future buildings that will address human concerns about performance.
Architectural criticism routinely considers the kinds of experience buildings can and should offer those who inhabit them, but rarely intersects with contemporary paradigms of BPE. When it does, the need for integrating these disciplines is highlighted as a means to explore the complex relationships between people and environment (Preiser, W et al, 2015). However, the buildings that are analysed critically by architectural theorists who are sympathetic to environmental concerns tend to be rarefied examples of architecture remote from examples of mainstream architecture. Few examples of architectural criticism include quantified analysis. Similarly, those engaged in everyday BPE see little advantage in considering what appear to be aesthetic concerns as part of their remit. However, theories of performance that neglect wider concerns of the experience buildings create for their inhabitants are at risk of missing important determinants of people’s satisfaction with the buildings they encounter and the influence this has on how they use the buildings. The premise of this paper, therefore, is that a dialogue between natural sciences, social sciences and the humanities can improve the systemic performance of buildings. In other words, how people experience and interact with the thermal environments and the implications for the investigation of energy use and the application of BPE methods.
The purpose of this paper, therefore, is to disrupt current perceptions of ‘performance’ by offering different perspectives on how people interact with buildings to see what they can offer debates about performance such that we might better understand not only why buildings perform the way they do but also how they might be designed to offer their inhabitants better experiences. This approach is inspired by the work of Ray Cole and others not just on the cultural aspects of thermal comfort (Cole, Robinson et al., 2008) but on his continuous engagement and questioning of how to evaluate building performance (Cole, 2005).
The paper is structured as follows. It begins by examining different definitions of performance and how the word means different things to different stakeholders and depends also on context. Some of these meanings are embedded in legislation. It then discusses experiential approaches to building performance to highlight how propositions from the humanities can enrich the understanding about performance in
everyday environments. The paper concludes by discussing the extent of humanities-informed BPE to enhance proposals for better performance in operation and as a tool for designers to learn/reflect from buildings in operation.
**Building performance evaluation (BPE)**
Before the energy crises of the early 1970s, the performance of buildings referred primarily to their structural integrity, constructional soundness (keeping out the rain, cold and damp) and providing satisfactory environmental conditions – heat, light and sound – focused on minimum standards. Since then, the performance of buildings in practice has increasingly focused on energy consumption and environmental sustainability and is measured against definitions that are enshrined in various standards including national building regulations, and assessed at different stages of the building lifecycle process using proprietary tools, such as BREEAM, LEED, Passivhaus and BUS. The methods often borrow definitions and targets developed to assess specific aspects of performance: thermal comfort, heat loss, lighting levels. In some cases they were originally intended to predict performance before the building is constructed rather than when it is in use. However, as interest in in-use performance has grown, operational versions have been developed, e.g. BREEAM in-use (BRE, 2015), and LEED Operations and Maintenance (USGBC, 2017). However, even when the emphasis is on the operational aspects rather than prediction, the evaluation usually focuses on the energy side of the equation rather than on thermal comfort, thus reflecting the interests of the building owner in reducing running costs and the broader societal interests in reducing energy consumption or CO$_2$ emissions.
The definitions of building performance articulate how the building should work in terms of measurable outcomes (Foliente, 2000). Performance-based specifications refer to explicit requirements that do not prescribe the specific strategies or means to achieve the goals (Gibson, 1982; Lutzkendorg and Speer, 2005). The performance-based approaches define building targets as functional requirements without specifying solutions (Gibson, 1982) so as to deliver innovative products that represent the best value for money (Sexton and Barren, 2005).
The Energy of Building Performance Directive (EPBD) stipulates that:
‘The energy performance of a building shall be determined on the basis of the calculated or actual annual energy that is consumed in order to meet the different needs associated with its typical use and shall reflect the heating energy needs and cooling energy needs (energy needed to avoid overheating) to maintain the envisaged temperature conditions of the building, and domestic hot water needs’.
The European Union (EU) member states propose the requirements and the verification procedures appropriate for a specific country. Only 10% of EU countries check the actual energy consumption in use (Roelens et al, 2016 p.77).
In England and Wales, The Approved Document Part L Conservation of Fuel and Power outlines the energy performance requirements in buildings (HM Government 2014). Compliance requires meeting a target CO2 emissions rate and a target Fabric Energy Efficiency –the latter applicable to domestic buildings. Compliance is demonstrated by comparing a notional building to a modelled building (Criterion 1). Part L recommends the thermal performance of the building envelope to avoid heat losses (Criterion 2) and the expected performance of the building systems (Criterion 4). Provisions are required to mitigate the risk of overheating (Criterion 3). In order to facilitate the ‘appropriate’ use of the building as expected by designers, guidance and users manuals should be available the building occupants (Criterion 5). In England and Wales, the energy performance of buildings is estimated by as-designed and as-built models. No compliance verification is required during operation.
In spite of the merits of performance-based regulations in protecting innovation, their effective implementation can be deterred by the asymmetry of understanding and information among stakeholders involved in the building lifecycle - clients, designers, building control authorities, regulators (Duncan, 2005). The Construction Industry Board advocates for performance-based approaches to consider the maturity and rigour in criteria and verification systems to satisfy the regulatory aims and the clients’ expectations; especially in situations where there is no focus on overall performance but rather minimum
---
compliance (Meacham et al, 2005). Hence, building performance evaluation, as a verification method, has the potential to contribute to the effective implementation of performance-based approaches.
The BPE is the process of measuring the extent to which a building meets its targets (BSRIA, 2015a). It combines a suite of systematic and rigorous methods to investigate, measure, compare, evaluate and give feedback to different stages of the building lifecycle from inception to demolition (Mallory-Hill et al, 2012, p3). It is referred to as a PoE when it focuses on the assessment of buildings in operation. For buildings in use, the evaluation includes the technical aspects (i.e. energy consumption, indoor environmental conditions) as well as the factors related to organisational and occupant performance such as productivity, satisfaction with indoor environmental conditions, and health (Zimring and Rosenheck, 2000; Preiser and Vischer, 2004). Mallory-Hill et al (2012) draw attention to the integration between the technical and the occupant factors “to investigate the relation between design and technical performance of buildings in relation to human behaviour, needs and desires [...]” (Mallory-Hill et al, 2012). The BPE can be applied for different purposes: to fine-tune buildings, to inform and justify investments and interventions, to provide evidence for policy-making, to benchmark and compare the performance of a portfolio of buildings. The purpose determines the types of techniques and the scope of the evaluation: indicative, investigative and diagnostic (Guerra-Santin and Tweed, 2015). The purpose of the BPE also sets the level of detail of the study and the granularity of the data collected (Leaman et al, 2010; Roberts, 2001; Bordass and Leaman, 2005a; Bordass and Leaman, 2005b).
Whyte and Gann (2001) suggest that POE provides information about the quality and value of design to inform building developers, designers, owners and users and has the potential to increase the building industry’s knowledge about usability and adaptive opportunities (Bordass et al., 2001) and to justify design strategies in buildings (Carmona Andreu and Oreszczyn, 2004).
In the UK, the BUS occupant survey evaluation3 is a widely used methodology to investigate the occupant’s perspective of buildings in use. It takes the form of a questionnaire used in the BPE to
---
3 This paper focuses on the UK. Other surveys used worldwide that aim to investigate the human factors in relation to thermal comfort and energy performance; e.g. the Centre for the Built
investigate the technical performance in relation to occupants’ perspectives. BUS can be used on
domestic buildings, non-domestic buildings and transient spaces. The purpose is to provide a standardised
tool for benchmarking and comparing buildings’ physical (measured) performance and occupant
satisfaction. The standardised methodology is useful for comparing and benchmarking purposes. It
enables the collection of data about the occupants’ views and their satisfaction regarding how the building
meets their physical, psychological and health needs. The participants rate the overall comfort in the
building in summer and winter, their perceptions and satisfaction with the design, aspects of
environmental control and overall performance. However, there are limitations in the application of the
BUS method when investigating the nexus between technical performance and occupants’ factors
(understood as ‘behaviours, needs and desires’):
- The use of generic questions across non-domestic building types. The non-domestic building sector
is diverse in terms of use, function, spatial requirements and users’ needs. BUS is suited to working
spaces; generic questions however aim to enable a general comparison between similar buildings.
- The use of standardised questions to identify occupants’ factors does not consider in detail the
complexities of occupying buildings, the different ways people interact with buildings and systems,
the degree of control and the expectations in different areas within a single building and the
differences between geographical and cultural contexts of application ie. cultural and social context
that shape the users’ expectations and behaviours. It is argued that the standardised questionnaire is a
starting point for information and data collection and BUS can be tailored to suit the specific
circumstances of the BPE exercise.
- The ‘snapshot’ application of a questionnaire to rate the occupant satisfaction and comfort could be
problematic in assessing thermal experience in buildings. BUS includes questions that refer to the
satisfaction in summer and winter. If administered once, the response will rely on the memory of the
respondents. There are limitations in using questions whose responses are based on retrospective
accounts and memory as suggested by Emmitt (2001, p.400) in a study about designers. The
Environment Occupant Indoor Environmental Quality Survey (see
https://www.cbe.berkeley.edu/research/survey.htm).
adaptive thermal comfort theory highlights that tolerance and acceptability of conditions are related to the degree of control and adaptation opportunities available to users (Brager and De Dear, 2008). There is a broader range of acceptance in the variations of temperature in buildings using natural ventilation and mixed-mode ventilation than in mechanically ventilated buildings (Brager and Baker, 2009). The seasonal variations (including conditions in autumn and spring), the temporal variations (morning and afternoon), and spatial variations within buildings are likely to affect the perception of thermal experience (tolerance and expectations). To investigate thermal satisfaction and inform intervention strategies to improve conditions, it may be necessary to link the satisfaction responses, the occupants’ actions (i.e. adaptation opportunities) and the measurements of indoor environmental conditions. A limitation of a snapshot view of the users’ satisfaction may compromise the holistic understanding of the interrelation between the technical performance outcome (i.e. energy use), the expectations about the indoor environmental conditions, the way people use buildings and their satisfaction with those buildings. The generic scope of BUS only allows for a limited analysis of the indoor environmental conditions in relation to occupants’ responses. A deeper investigation is required to determine the diversity and the dynamics of the use of spaces and the perception of the indoor environment across seasons, between different areas or spaces in buildings, and between different user types, in relation to cultural expectations.
Soft Landings is a recent addition to the suite of BPE tools and guidance. It is a comprehensive process that recommends good practice to achieve the building targets from inception to operation (Way and Bordass, 2005). It aims to engage the different team members and building stakeholders, including designers, contractors, clients, facilities managers and users throughout the building lifecycle process. Soft Landings encourages the involvement of designers and contractors during operation to support the handover and the operation of the building (BSRIA, 2015a). It has been adopted by the UK government to enhance the procurement processes with the purpose of improve the building quality (BSRIA, 2015b).
Existing BPE methods do not seek to understand how people experience buildings apart from basic treatments of comfort. They are good at assessing how well a building meets the general needs of its inhabitants, but less useful in explaining occupant behaviour. When referring to procurement processes,
Bordass et al. (2001, p. 151) argue that “focusing on the building as a physical object ignores the purpose of the building, namely social, cultural, economic and environmental benefits […] improve health, safety and comfort; and also raise the spirits.” Treating buildings as physical assets intended only to meet technical performance focuses only on one side of the picture of what buildings do. Existing methods are good at answering “what” and “how many” questions, but not so good at “why” questions. The qualitative understanding developed by some approaches in the humanities appears to offer the potential for addressing the latter by illuminating how people experience buildings and what the buildings mean to people.
**Experiential approaches to building performance**
The enduring definition of good performance in architectural discourse is captured in the three characteristics originally proposed by Vitruvius in his *De architectura* (first century BCE):
- *utilitas* (referring to user - fit for the purpose); and
- *firmitas* (referring to stability - performance);
- *venustas* (referring to beauty and delight). Vitruvius’ concept includes factors that technically-oriented performance definitions do not embed.
Vitruvius’ concept includes factors that technically oriented performance definitions do not embed. Or in Sir Henry Wotton’s rephrasing: commodity, firmness and delight. In spite of their distant origins, these three conditions of ‘well building’ are still invoked when the quality of architecture – and how it ‘performs’ – is discussed.
The concerns of architectural criticism seem far removed from the BPE. It is rare to find an approach that gives equal weight to the technical performance of buildings (energy and comfort), and the satisfaction of inhabitants and their aesthetic experience of the architecture. There is a healthy environmental tradition in architecture that combines in varying degrees architectural science and architectural theory. Writers such as Banham (1969), Heschong (1980), and Hawkes (2007) underline the importance of environmental
conditions to producing great architecture, but their work stands apart from the predominantly technical studies of the BPE. Instead they emphasise the symbolic and aesthetic aspects of environmental design using historical (often vernacular) or celebrated contemporary buildings to illustrate their points. Apart from Heschong, the focus tends to be more on environmental properties other than thermal. In most cases, environmental ‘delight’ is found in rare examples of much lauded buildings set apart from everyday experience of offices, shops and social housing. This suggests that deliberate design of the thermal environment to engender delight is exotic rather than something that might be part of quotidian design. A fundamental argument advanced here is that by extending the scope of building performance to include sensorial and experiential concerns can help us to understand why inhabitants give low satisfaction ratings with environments and the actions they take to address their concerns. The remainder of the paper will focus on one aspect of BPE – the thermal environment – to suggest how existing methods of assessing thermal performance might benefit from phenomenologically based approaches to understanding people’s perceptions of the experiences that buildings offer them.
**From thermal comfort to thermal experience**
The history of thermal comfort studies in buildings is well documented elsewhere (de Dear et al, 2013; Brager and de Dear, 2008) and it shows a gradual widening (and arguably at least one bifurcation) of the range of approaches to describing thermal environments and inhabitants’ responses to them. It parallels the course of other fields of enquiry, e.g. medicine, in which it is recognised that a physical sciences approach alone do not tell the full story and that descriptions based on analytical and empirical studies need to be supplemented by insights gathered through other means.
To summarize, the main inflection points in thermal comfort studies have been:
- development of a physiological basis to human responses to different thermal environmental conditions (Fanger, 1970).
- comparison between predicted and actual reports from occupants’ about their perception of real thermal environments (Beizaee, 2012).
• recognition of human agency in responding to thermal conditions using available adaptive opportunities (Nicol, 2011; Brager and de Dear, 1998).
• recognition of the influence of cultural context on perception of thermal comfort (Heschong, 1980; Cole, Robinson et al., 2008; Brager and De Dear, 2008).
• social practices approach to thermal comfort (Shove, 2003; Chappells and Shove, 2005).
Field studies, particularly in people’s homes, have shown that they often choose to create thermal conditions that lie beyond those normally considered to be comfortable (Tweed and Dixon, 2012). In some cases, therefore, it can be argued that people seek thermal experiences rather than conventional definitions of comfort. The frequency and duration of such experiences may be slight, but because they exist at all suggests they warrant exploration. Observations of other cultural and social practices suggest that people seek extreme conditions on the beach, in the sauna, on the ski slopes, in icy cold lakes, and will expend significant effort and investment to secure these experiences.
The need to go beyond the conventional understandings of comfort finds support from Ray Cole and colleagues:
“over half a century of comfort research and comfort provision in the building field has been guided by the search for a universally applicable set of optimum comfort conditions based on a primarily physiological model.” (Cole et al. 2008, p.324)
This comment underlines the need to question continually the received wisdom with a view to improving our understanding of people-environment relations. In the following section, the paper will consider some ways in which approaches found in the humanities might contribute to our understanding of how people experience and respond to thermal environments.
**Insights from the humanities**
In architecture, the humanities play an important role in explaining not just the aesthetic dimensions of encountering buildings but in suggesting how designs evoke specific feelings in people. Much of this
discourse tends to reify the architecturally informed observer over the lay person. Introductory texts on architectural experience, such as Rasmussen’s *Experiencing Architecture* (1962), treat architecture as objects that are perceived unproblematically but require the observer to possess the expert understanding to decode their meanings and appreciate their beauty and worth. Beyond the boundaries of architecture, however, there are more general discussions about how people interact with the world that provide useful insights into the perception of building performance. The most enduring of these is phenomenology, which remains a staple of qualitative research in the humanities. Applying phenomenology to the experience of architecture is not new (Benoit and Giraud, 2012; Shirazi, 2013; Norberg-Schulz, 1980; Norberg-Schulz, 1963), but previous studies have not focused directly on building performance. This section considers how phenomenology can enrich the understanding of human environmental experience in architecture.
**Being-in-the building – phenomenology and architecture**
In philosophy, phenomenology emerged as reaction to the dominant rationalism. Its rallying cry was coined by Edmund Husserl as a return to “the things themselves”, emphasizing the need to bracket presuppositions and concentrate on what is immediately present. Whilst rejecting Husserl’s residual Cartesianism, his pupil, Martin Heidegger, retained a focus on everyday interactions between people and their environments.
In architecture, phenomenology has been invoked and applied at different scales and specificities, from Christian Norbert-Schulz’s adoption of Heidegger’s ideas on sense of place (genius loci) (Norberg-Schulz, 1980) through Bachelard’s treatment of intimate spaces (Bachelard, 1964) to Juhani Pallasmaa’s celebration of sensorial engagement with surfaces and textures of specific materials (Pallasmaa, 1996). The departure points for most architectural excursions into phenomenology are provided by the philosophers, Martin Heidegger and Maurice Merleau-Ponty.
**Phenomenology and thermal experience**
Two main tenets that are agreed by many phenomenologists:
• phenomenology rejects the dominant rationalistic model of experiencing and acting in the world, the model derived from the Cartesian *Cogito* (cogito ergo sum, or I think therefore I am), in favour of an ‘absorbed coping’ as the primary mode of engaging with the world.
• phenomenology rejects the mind-body separation inherent in the Cartesian *Cogito* and views the ‘lived body’ as the primary locus for being-in-the-world. Rather than treat mind and body as different entities, they are seen as a unified whole that elevates consideration of perception and the relationship between sensory experience and cognition.
Both of these premises have important insights to offer the study of thermal environments and people.
In *Being and Time* (Heidegger, 1962) Heidegger dismantles the dominant model of how we experience the world. Contrary to the rationalism of René Descartes, he insists that most of the time we are engaged in ‘embodied coping’ rather than conscious, deliberate thought about our interactions with the world. In this view, individuals are embedded in situations and engaged in trying to satisfy goals that can be described at different levels of abstraction and generality, from making a living to keeping warm. Objects and aspects of environments for the most part are present as an undifferentiated whole that provides the context for our being-in-the-world. This embodied coping with the world and its contents emphasises the role of context in shaping our experiences in contrast to the disembodied, independent and universal truths of rationalism that form the basis of physiological descriptions of thermal comfort. Absorbed coping disrupted through breakdown emphasises the role of inhabitants in taking action to achieve their goals, which is recognised by Cole et al (2008):
“we describe building occupants as ‘inhabitants’, who may play an active role in the maintenance and performance of their buildings, as opposed to ‘occupants’, who are passive recipients of predetermined comfort conditions.” (Cole et al, p.324)
Existing approaches to investigate thermal experience as a factor in building performance do not describe this active role in much detail. Phenomenology offers a framework for doing so. The phenomenological concepts of ‘breakdown’ and ‘lived body’ could shed new light to investigate in more depth the
inhabitants’ thermal experiences, the conditioning of the built environment and their implications in the energy performance of existing buildings.
**The role of ‘breakdown’ in experiencing environments**
Central to Heidegger’s description of being-in-the-world is the idea of ‘breakdown,’ which results when things do not go according to plan. He argues that it is only when something disrupts the default coping mode that objects emerge from their contexts as things that are then subjected to scrutiny and reasoning. He uses the example of a carpenter engaged in hammering that is interrupted when the head flies off the hammer. Heidegger’s German neologisms describe the transition of the hammer’s status during breakdown, which are usually rendered in English as the cumbersome terms “ready-to-hand” — the default mode of the hammer’s existence during the activity — and “present-at-hand” — the emergence of the hammer as an object for contemplation (Dreyfus, 1991). Heidegger claims we only become aware of objects in the world when something unusual happens to throw us out of automatic engagement or absorbed coping. Objects thus ‘reveal’ themselves to us following breakdown. In other words, until the head flies off the hammer we are simply engaged in the activity of hammering and only marginally aware of the existence of the hammer or the nail. If the hammer breaks or we hit our thumb then suddenly these objects emerge from the general background to demand conscious attention as we slip into a deliberative mode of thinking.
There is a corollary with thermal experience. For the most part we are unaware of thermal conditions. In Heidegger’s terms, the thermal environment is “ready-to-hand.” It only demands conscious attention, reveals itself as an environment and occasions deliberate thought and action when we are surprised by its emergence either through discomfort or delight. This may happen through the sudden realisation that we are too warm, a cold draught felt at the ankles, the unwelcome chill of a handrail or the unexpected but pleasant feeling of sunlight on the face. This is where the meaning of thermal environments emerges and is most likely to initiate action on the part of the building inhabitant. The thermal environment shifts from being ready-to-hand to being present-at-hand when it intrudes on our goal of seeking comfort or preferred thermal conditions. It is these “breakdowns” in the thermal environment that trigger inhabitants’ behaviour.
The rational response of an architect, building services engineer, or facilities manager to the idea of breakdown might be to design out the possibility of their occurrence. Such an approach leads to the creation of thermal neutrality in the built environment, resulting in standardised comfort expectations that increase the energy consumption. However, this would be to miss the point entirely because according to Heidegger’s account, breakdown is inevitable no matter what advance precautions are in place. It becomes more a matter of how continued coping is supported.
Phenomenology has gained traction in other areas of design, most notably in human-computer interaction studies (Winograd and Flores, 1986) and experience design (Wendt, 2015), in which it is used to inform discussions about usability. As Wendt notes, the tasks carried out to assess usability of devices and “the means by which we measure ease of use are usually quite mechanical” (Wendt, 2015, p.31), which is also true for the BPE, to the point of triggering breakdown through surveys that draw attention to environments with which inhabitants are already coping. A phenomenological approach would promote maximising the availability and effectiveness of coping mechanisms over removal of all possibility of breakdown.
The lived body in thermal experience
Phenomenology considers the lived body as the primary locus for being-in-the-world. While Heidegger is mostly quiet on this topic, it is central to the later work of Maurice Merleau-Ponty (Merleau-Ponty, 1962) and contemporary phenomenologists (Welton, 2010). Merleau-Ponty’s criticism of the Cartesian view of the world is that it relegates the body to the perfunctory role of providing a home for the mind. Rationalistic thinking is riven with dualisms including between mind and body, subject and object, person and world etc. Phenomenology rejects these dualisms, most notably that between mind and body. For most phenomenologists it is impossible to separate one from the other because our knowledge of the world is acquired through our involvement with it through our lived bodies. This is what has led Dreyfus (Dreyfus, 1992) and others to counter the wilder claims from the artificial intelligence (AI) community based on representations of the world as collections of facts and rules that are independent of context. The world of the BPE is no different.
In the earliest thermal comfort studies the body is treated purely as a biological machine responding to different environmental conditions through physiological mechanisms such as sweating. It is devoid of any capacity to react beyond a small range of physiological processes, again such as sweating. The adaptive model of thermal comfort, allows the body to become more animated and gain the ability to think, move and take advantage of opportunities offered by the immediate environment to change how they respond to conditions—change the level of clothing, consume hot or cold drinks, etc. However, the treatment of the body is far removed from being the primary conduit for being and experience. In current standards of thermal performance, the body is absent and thermal comfort is portrayed solely as a state of mind: ‘Thermal comfort is the condition of mind that expresses satisfaction with the thermal environment and is assessed by subjective evaluation’ (ANSI/ASHRAE 2010). To reduce human experience and action to this level obscures the most interesting aspects of how inhabitants interact with their environments. It offers no clues about how to design better buildings and systems. The definition also raises methodological questions about how a “condition of mind” expresses satisfaction without being asked, which in itself constitutes a phenomenological breakdown throwing the subject into a deliberative mode of thinking that may skew the answers.
Merleau-Ponty’s focus on the lived body and its potential for extension through tools (walking canes, even ostrich feathers in a hat) adds new layers to debates about how inhabitants experience environments and modify their behaviour (Merleau-Ponty, 1962). It ushers in a raft of interesting issues to explore that include competences (Ingold, 1992; Ingold, 2000), skills (Dreyfus, 1996) and different conceptions of the body (Foucault, 1973). The conception of the body and how that is reflected in different approaches to thermal comfort is the topic of a forthcoming paper (Tweed, 2018).
The above account suggests the humanities – and phenomenology in particular – can offer different perspectives on how building inhabitants experience and react to thermal conditions. It highlights ways to explore the uncharted waters of the meaning of thermal environments as a neglected aspect of determining the performance of buildings. Phenomenology also offers opportunities to extend the analysis beyond individual experience to include social dimensions (Schutz, 1962). In a previous paper, Tweed (2000) has suggested how Anthony Steinbock’s reworking of late Husserlian phenomenology can
provide a framework for describing architectural experience to account for variations resulting from individual differences, life stage, and cultural context (Steinbock, 1995).
**Evidence from the field**
None of the field studies mentioned here set out to apply phenomenological approaches. However, retrospective scrutiny of the findings suggest that phenomenology may offer explanatory power over conventional methods of investigating thermal comfort in practice and could have revealed more about the relations between inhabitants and their environments. Despite the lack of an explicit phenomenological approach, there are clues among the authors’ projects that suggest a more detailed understanding could be developed in later studies. Three projects are discussed below and in all cases, they demonstrate the benefits of conducting research on thermal experience using methods that elicit the response of individuals immersed in actual environments at the time they are experiencing them. The findings challenge performance-based standards and methods for determining inhabitant satisfaction, revealing a more complex picture of how people use their dwellings. In the past decade, architectural research has adopted ethnography and associated methods across (Lucas, 2016). Indeed the development of thermal comfort studies mirrors the progression of studies in other areas which have moved from a narrow physical science approach to a more inclusive and exploratory investigation of everyday human behaviour linked to the measured performance data, which began with the development of theories of adaptive comfort that include human action (Baker, 1995; de Dear and Brager, 1998; Nicol, 2011), and has continued, for example, through renewed interest in the concept of alliesthesia — a hypothesis that suggests non-steady-state environments can create conscious experiences of thermal pleasure (de Dear, 2011).
The discussion here revolves around three main research projects that have fed the development of the current approaches being applied in the Welsh School of Architecture:
1. Carbon, Control and Comfort (CCC): user-centred control systems for comfort, carbon saving and energy management, a multi-university collaboration funded by the Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council (EPSRC) and E.On.
2. Conditioning Demand (CD): Older People, Diversity and Thermal Experience, a multi-university project funded by the EPSRC and Électricité de France (EDF).
3. Solutions for a Holistic Optimal Retrofit (SHOR), a “Retrofit for the Future” project funded by the Technology Strategy Board.
The role of the Welsh School of Architecture in these projects varies from primarily conducting the physical measurements (CCC), carrying out detailed interviews and spot physical measurements with householders (CD) to the full gamut of design, installation and monitoring — both physical and social — in the retrofit project.
The aim of the CCC project was to discover what kinds of thermal environments people created and maintained in their own homes. The hypothesis was that domestic thermal environments would differ significantly from those that might be predicted by existing thermal comfort theory. The research team sought to reveal how people operated their homes and why they did so in that way. The project monitored nine dwellings in South Wales and 10 in Harrogate. The WSA team was in charge of the monitoring in South Wales and worked with colleagues from Leeds University on developing appropriate protocols and methods for all of the monitoring on the project. The WSA team also worked closely with colleagues from Kings College on the collection of social data through interviews and A/V tours of the dwellings. The results were published by Tweed, Dixon, Hinton and Bickerstaff (2014).
One of the most interesting issues in the CCC project was methodological: what is the best way to determine people’s perception and satisfaction with the thermal conditions in their homes? Many studies conduct questionnaire surveys in buildings and collect data often asking for retrospective reports from inhabitants about how comfortable they were at some earlier time—sometimes several months or a season distant. In this project, the team wanted to ensure that the survey data could be related to continuous physical measurements of temperature, relative humidity etc. The resulting methodology used a telephone survey during which each household was contacted three times per day for five consecutive days including at least one weekend day. The development of this research design was informed by a phenomenological understanding of the importance of capturing how inhabitants’ interact with their
immediate conditions and the method of experience sampling (Csikszentmihalyi and Rochberg-Halton, 1981). This represented a deliberate intervention to invoke a ‘breakdown’ that brought current perceptions to the fore instead of potentially unreliable historical accounts. The use of this methodology revealed inhabitants’ concurrent perceptions of environmental conditions.
The CD project followed a different line of enquiry and focused almost entirely on the reported experience of older (55+) householders following energy retrofits to their homes in the form of fabric upgrades (insulation and draught-proofing) and system changes (low carbon fuels). The WSA team conducted fieldwork in 11 dwellings in South Wales alongside colleagues from the University of Exeter, who studied a similar number properties in Devon and Cornwall, and other project partners in Manchester and Lancaster who investigated different types of residential properties – a care home and an assisted living development – associated with older people. Unlike the CCC project, the properties studied in this project were privately owned and occupied rather than the social housing studied in CCC.
The WSA role in the CD project was to carry out interviews with the householders in winter, spring and summer. The semi-structured interviews included the following topics: changing attitudes to and perceptions of the thermal environment with age; adaptive comfort tactics; use of dwelling; use of the heating system and its controls; attitudes to energy consumption; importance of costs. The transcripts reveal a deep engagement between inhabitants and the fabric and systems in their homes. The level of interaction and the skill demonstrated by some inhabitants in achieving their desired thermal experiences was a surprise. It begs more detailed phenomenological studies that could help to explain key behaviours. For example, many of the respondents showed a well developed sensitivity to external conditions and modified their behaviour, including the use of the heating system, based on their own weather forecasts. There are opportunities to exploit this interest in low energy design, if we had a better understanding.
The CD project underlined the need to consider building performance as a whole rather than treating them as discrete aspects. Householders discussed their home conditions in the context of what they enabled them to do or prevented them from doing, and not as isolated sensory experience, though these were mentioned too, e.g. when draughts caused particular discomfort.
The SHOR project was a retrofit of an end-of-terrace two-storey property owned by a housing association in south Wales. As noted above, the WSA carried out the design of the retrofit, oversaw the installation of the monitoring equipment and collected the data from this, and conducted a series of interviews with the tenants to establish their response to the retrofit and any changes to their behaviour following its construction. Though the retrofit was primarily to reduce the CO$_2$ emissions from the dwelling by at least 80% (the goal of the Retrofit for the Future programme), in practice the housing associations made use of the initiative to improve other facilities in the property: a new shower and increased storage for personal effects.
In the SHOR project, the need for a nuanced and richer method of understanding how people interact with their homes is highlighted by the householders’ sensitivity to qualities of the environment that would not be picked up by traditional methods. For example, much of their behaviour, which had a direct effect on the thermal environment, can be explained by their perception of the family dog’s needs. The intentions behind a sunspace, designed to provide a thermal buffer between the exterior and the living room, were undermined by the family leaving the door between this space and the living room open so that the dog could have free passage between the two, thereby negating the thermal energy benefit of the separation (Tweed, 2013).
**Housing as a special case for investigating performance**
Housing presents very different problems for creating thermal environments and in assessing their performance compared with other types of buildings. Dwellings may need to cater for more diverse thermal requirements. The range of activities in the home is wider than will be found in most other types of buildings resulting in wider variations in clothing levels, metabolic rates. There is often greater diversity in the needs of people sharing a home environment in terms of their ages, levels of activity and occupancy patterns. There is the crucial difference in the agency of the building inhabitants in the residential sector. Unlike the housing sector, in many non-domestic buildings the inhabitants have little or no control over their immediate environment. In extreme cases, control of the heating system is not even available within the building but is centralised at another location possibly even offsite.
The studies described above underline the importance of considering context when studying how people use and respond to environmental conditions. Perhaps the most interesting observation from these studies is that the pursuit of desired thermal experience appears to override other concerns, including the cost of providing that experience. The immediate satisfaction of thermal preferences seems, in some circumstances, to take precedence over the longer term issues of paying for them.
The key points to emerge were:
1. Some people are adept at operating their homes in a way that secures the environment they want from them and show a sound understanding of environmental principles, including not just climatic conditions but the operation of heating systems. Phenomenological concepts (absorbed coping, lived body) could deepen our understanding of the relationships between people and their thermal environment and the implications to energy use.
2. The pursuit of thermal experiences in homes tends to deviate from traditional definitions embedded in thermal comfort theories and performance definitions. Phenomenological concepts of breakdown and the lifeworld emphasise the absorbed, holistic nature of most human experience and opens new avenues for more detailed investigation to inform future design for better performance.
3. Thermal environments at home are diverse (differences across seasons, across spaces). There is a dynamic landscape of thermal experiences at home: (who is the receptor/who engages/whose thermal experience is to be satisfied; spatial and temporal variations). Phenomenological concepts of engagement through the lived body remind us of the transient, dynamic and evolving features of thermal environments.
With the benefit of hindsight from revisiting the results from these projects, we see opportunities for enriching the study of human-environment relations and how these influence the evaluation of building performance. The major contribution phenomenological methods could have made to these previous studies lies in the development of methodologies that recognise ‘absorbed coping’ as the dominant mode of being in the world and how this impinges on perception of buildings and their systems, which in turn shapes behaviour. There are also clear signs that approaching human-environment investigations from the
‘lived body’ perspective may offer increased explanatory power beyond the conventional treatment of humans as thinking metabolisms. In our observations of how people respond to particular environments, there is evidence that initiating the actions needed to make a change to the thermal environment is not just a rational decision-making function but is in part influenced by the physical bodily effort required to make that change, such as: going to the place where a sweater is stored and then putting it on; getting out of a chair and making a change to switch, thermostat or timing control to control heat generation and emission in a home. The definition of ‘effort’ in human behaviour that impacts on environment and energy in buildings needs to transcend a simple definition that treats mind and body separately.
**Lessons from the humanities**
This paper has explored the contribution that phenomenology can make to understanding people’s everyday experience of thermal conditions in buildings. There are three further key points to make. First, the focus on the thermal environment aims to reduce the complexity of addressing building performance *in toto*, but there is ample evidence to suggest that similar approaches can be applied to other dimensions of experience. For example, Don Ihde, a contemporary phenomenologist and philosopher of technology, has developed a comprehensive phenomenological treatment of sound (Ihde, 1976) and Edward Casey has developed broader treatments of the experience of places (Casey, 1998). The second point is that phenomenology is just one approach within the humanities and social sciences that may be brought to bear on the problems of describing everyday experience. However, it is widely acknowledged as established approach to studying experience of the world from multiple perspectives and shares much of its conceptual structure with, for example, American neo-pragmatism (Hickman, 2001). Thirdly, we should not assume that phenomenology is a unified field. Like most schools of thought, there is significant disagreement within it and trenchant criticisms aimed at it from outside. However, it is well established as a recognised approach to studying real world phenomena (Moustakas, 1994; van Manen, 2014).
The key contribution of humanities based approaches is that they may bring to the fore neglected aspects of performance that would otherwise be overlooked. Whilst existing tools for evaluation are good at
determining the broad outlines of how a building will meet the needs of those who use it, they are not able to tell us why inhabitants like or dislike it. That tends to be addressed through the conventional physiological explanations of the past. Even adaptive comfort theory does not consider in depth why people put on jumpers or drink cool drinks, merely that they do so to ameliorate conditions they do not like.
If we understand why people behave as they do in response to thermal conditions using a phenomenological, user-centred approach perhaps we could anticipate those actions at the design stage and rather than aim to meet abstract target temperatures. We could provide buildings that provide range of opportunities for responding to the environment and providing the experience individuals in the buildings seek. That is what design should be doing. It is not about providing a fixed building that ignores what eventual occupants might want, but about providing buildings that offer a range of mechanisms under the control of the occupants to adjust and exploit as they see fit. It is about considering buildings as ‘events’ not as ‘static objects’: ‘fixity and permanence are strictly human conceits; built environments are material and social events in a continuous state of becoming’ (Friedman 2015, p. 267). This is the essence of the “long life, loose fit, low energy” dictum of Alex Gordon (Langston, 2014).
Wendt (2015), in his discussion of experience design, claims that the deliberative actions people take to bridge the gap between non-preferable and preferable states is design. Applying this to the thermal environment suggests buildings and systems need to offer the tools through which inhabitants can achieve preferable conditions.
**Conclusions**
This paper has sought to introduce ideas drawn from the humanities, primarily phenomenology, to enrich current approaches to the BPE with the aim of understanding why buildings inhabitants behave as they do in response to thermal environmental conditions. The paper has been inspired in large measure by the work of Cole (Cole et al., 2008) and others who have sought to enlarge the remit of thermal comfort studies beyond the physiological and psychological to embrace cultural context. The paper has argued for a further extension that includes studies of the deeper connections between people and their enveloping
lifeworld. It is not a plea to add more variables to evaluation tools and methods, but for heightened sensitivity to the wide range of thermal experiences inhabitants may seek and the actions they may take to achieve those with the recognition that this involves the whole person, who is engaged unconsciously in fully absorbed, skilful coping with a world that has, but is not solely defined by, its thermal state. It is a call for the investigation of the meaning of thermal environments to different people in different contexts at different times. By understanding the meaning of thermal environments, designers will be better equipped to provide buildings and systems that will allow inhabitants cope with the unavoidable ‘breakdowns’ that emerge between non-preferred and preferred environmental conditions. This area warrants further investigation; for example, comparing designers’ intentions to inhabitants’ use of buildings and analysing how designers incorporate knowledge of inhabitants’ experience to inform the design of future buildings.
The trajectory of thermal comfort studies is analogous to that of other areas of inquiry such as in medicine. Just as health and well-being are seen as more than the absence of illness, in which people are seen primarily as biological mechanisms and illness as a physical problem to be fixed using established medical solutions such as surgery or medication, so the health and well-being of buildings are now revealed to be more complicated than before. The edict of ‘treating the whole patient’ applies as much to buildings as it does to individuals.
Acknowledgements
The authors gratefully acknowledge their contribution to this research and recognize the support of Cardiff University. The authors are also indebted to the many academic and industry colleagues who have collaborated on these projects, all of whom have been involved partners from across the UK. Finally, the work by Raymond J. Cole on the cultural component of thermal comfort and the need for a broader approach to evaluating building performance highlights his significant contribution to the field of architectural science and building performance evaluation. The first author is delighted to offer this paper to the Festschrift as a recognition of this contribution. For him, it completes a loop that began when he
was a first-year student tutored by Ray at the Welsh School of Architecture. The first author believes that he started learning from Ray back then, and is still learning from him now.
References
doi:10.1080/0961321042000322780
doi:10.1080/09613218.2011.558690
van Manen, M. (2014). *Phenomenology of practice: Meaning-giving methods in phenomenological re-
search and writing. London: EDS Publications Ltd.
|
Appearance Stylization of Manhattan World Buildings
C. Li and P.J. Willis and M. Brown
University of Bath
United Kingdom
Figure 1: We use a novel representation for Manhattan World building stylization. The base model (first picture) is decorated using characteristic appearances captured from different example buildings. Note the result models differ in decoration details.
Abstract
We propose a method that generates stylized building models from examples. Our method only requires minimal user input to capture the appearance of a Manhattan world building, and can automatically retarget the captured “look and feel” to new models. The key contribution is a novel representation, namely the “style sheet”, that is captured independently from a building’s structure. It summarizes characteristic shape and texture patterns on the building. In the retargeting stage, a style sheet is used to decorate new buildings of potentially different structures. Consistent face groups are proposed to capture complex texture patterns from the example model and to preserve the patterns in the retarget models. We will demonstrate how to learn such style sheets from different Manhattan world buildings and the results of using them to generate novel models.
Categories and Subject Descriptors (according to ACM CCS): I.3.5 [Computer Graphics]: Computational Geometry and Object Modeling—Modeling packages
1. Introduction
Creating building models of a particular style is important to many applications such as digital entertainment and urban planning. Approaches such as procedural modeling [PM01] and example based model synthesis [MSK10] significantly reduce the cost of producing a large number of models of a common style. Inverse procedural modeling methods [MZWVG07,BWS10,ARB07,LCOZ11] are also proposed to bridge the gap between intuitive user experience and fast model generation.
The focus of this paper is the generation of Manhattan World (MW) buildings. They are widely seen and are characterized by the predominance of three mutually orthogonal directions. Assuming Manhattan World
Figure 3: Our system takes a textured 3D model as the input. In the capturing stage, our system remeshes the input model, detects its structure and generates a style sheet. In the retargeting stage, the style sheet is used to decorate novel models of different structures.
Figure 2: MW buildings usually contain characteristic decorations. Left: instead of having a flat facade, the building’s shape evolves from the bottom to the top. Right: textures may also change over a building’s surface. The facades here are decorated with different textures.
is common practice in vision and graphics research [CY99, FJZ05, FCSS09, VAB10, CAAB12, BYMW13] and regularizes the problem solution. However, stylizing the appearance of these buildings is still challenging: First, unlike low-rise buildings, their appearance can vary greatly between floors. Figure 2 shows examples of shape and texture variations that would be difficult to describe by a unified procedural rule. Second, in the real world one MW building can be structurally very different to the next, graphics tools that simply scale a model do not permit a richness of variation for the generation of new models. Last but not the least, existing retargeting methods [ARB07, LCOZ11] require manual labeling for the structure and for the detail patterns of the 3D input model.
We propose a method that captures and retargets the “look and feel” of Manhattan world buildings. The contributions are:
- A novel representation, namely the “style sheet”, for describing the decoration (shape and texture details) of MW Buildings.
- A method for capturing the style sheet from an example building, with minimal user input.
- A method for automatically applying the style sheet across buildings of different structures.
Our method requires minimum manual input: a user only needs to align the example model to a standard view and separate the bottom and top floors from the main body of the building. Figure 3 gives an overview of our system. It has two main components: capture and the retargeting.
The capturing stage remeshes the input model, detects its structure and generates a style sheet. The remeshing process converts the input model into a sequence of floors that are linked by vertical faces. We then detect the structure of the building as a stack of blocks. Finally a style sheet is generated to capture the model’s shape and texture details.
The retargeting stage generates new models of similar appearance but different in structure. The challenge we address is to apply the style sheet of a source building to the structure of a target building by automatically mapping the shape and texture details from the source blocks to the target blocks.
2. Related Work
The topic of generating multiple new building models in a common style is related to the following three fields: procedural modeling, example-based model synthesis, and inverse procedural modeling. Here we briefly review some of the representative works.
Procedural modeling. [PM01] propose a system that generates large-scale cities. They also noted that building structures usually do not reflect the growth process of a L-system. [WWSR03] invented split grammars to impose stricter spatial constraints for building generation. [MWH06] generate detailed building shells by assembling basic shapes using operations such as scaling, translation,
A common drawback of procedural modeling is its non-trivial process of rule specification. To achieve more intuitive user control, [TLL*11] use a high level specification, such as a sketch or a volumetric shape to guide procedural modeling. However, [TLL*11] is not designed for buildings and only generates models that consist of regular blocks.
**Example-based model synthesis.** Methods in this category use the idea of texture synthesis [WLKT09, LHL10] to preserve the local appearance of the given example in the generated model. For example, [MM11] stitch together pieces of model and incorporate the adjacency constraint in 3D to ensure that all of the pieces fit together seamlessly. [CLDD09] couple the manipulation of geometry and texture for reshaping and combining architectural models. Example-based approaches in general give a more friendly user experience, but suffer from the high computational cost of generating detailed models [Mer09].
**Inverse procedural modeling.** Methods in this category infer procedural rules from the example model. Regularities are used to capture building facades from images [MZWVG07, XFT*08, TKS*11, MWW12] or from 3D point clouds [PMW*08, LZS*11, SHFH11]. Local symmetry has also been explored to generate structurally sound 3D models [BWS10]. A related field to inverse procedural modeling is model abstraction. [MZL*09] simplify 3D geometric models using characteristic curves or contours. [NSX*11] use the Gestalt rules to summarize the structure of complex spatial arrangements found in architectural drawings.
One important application of inverse procedural modeling is to retarget the style of the example building to novel models. [ARB07] use a template grammar, extracted from a regularly structured model, to subdivide the floors of a new model. [LCOZ*11] decomposes a geometric model into a pair of horizontal/vertical splitting rules. Each face on a wall is assigned with a texture map and a pair of horizontal/vertical splitting rules (colours coded).
In common with [ARB07, LCOZ*11], our objective is to transfer the style of a given building to new models. By limiting our system to MW buildings, we reduce the amount of manual input needed to capture the style of a model. In contrast to [LCOZ*11], we separate the structure of the model from its decoration details so the style can be transformed to models of different structures. Unlike [ARB07], we use a style sheet to capture multiple architectural patterns across a building model.
### 3. Terminology
In this section we first introduce the terminology (Figure 4) and then define the style sheet (Figure 5).
A model is vertically decomposed into a set of **blocks**. Figure 4-a shows three example blocks (in orange). Each block $b$ is a vertical extent containing several **floors** with similar floor area. Figure 4-b shows the floors contained by the middle block. Each floor $f$ is represented as a list of edges that are linked head-to-tail. Blocks are chosen such that there is only a small change in area between the floors within. The mesh contained by a block can also be decomposed into four vertical **walls** $(w_1$ to $w_4$ in Figure 4-c). Now we define our proposed style sheet using the above terminology. A style sheet has two layers: a shape layer and a texture layer (Figure 5). The shape layer captures the shape details of the building by storing the walls of each of its building blocks. In the retargeting stage these walls are mapped to target models using similarity transformations.
Every face on a wall is assigned a 2D texture map and a pair of splitting rules from the texture layer (indicated by the coloured boxes in Figure 5). The detection of the splitting rules is important because it allows procedurally generating windows for the retargeted model. Without these rules the generated windows are likely to have inconsistent shapes. In this paper we improve the detection for splitting rules using consistent face groups. For example, the orange face and the green face in Figure 5 are members of the same vertically consistent group, so they are assigned the same horizontal splitting rule; the orange face and the blue face are members of the same horizontally consistent group, so they are assigned the same vertical splitting rule.
4. Model Capture
Now we explain how to detect the structure of a model and capture its style sheet. The examples are highly user-rated models selected from the Google 3D warehouse. These models represent real and permanent building structures with textures of real photographs. Figure 3 shows an example model.
4.1. Remeshing
The input models need some pre-processing before they can be used for analysis. First, we choose the standard view of the input model by manually aligning the front of the building with the xy plane in the world space. For consistent parameter setting across models of different sizes, we also scale the model to unit height. Because these models are handcrafted, they sometimes have artefacts such as redundant or mis-aligned vertices. To address this, we remesh the model into a sequence of floors that are linked by vertical faces. Figure 6 demonstrates floors of three example buildings.
To remesh the model, we first generate a set of horizontal planes (floors) from the vertices of the input model: we start from creating an adjacency matrix by connecting a pair of vertices if the difference between their heights is smaller than a threshold (set to 0.0005 of the building’s height). The adjacency lists of the matrix are used to perform a vertical alignment: all vertices belonging to the same list are shifted to a horizontal plane at their average height. By intersecting this horizontal plane with the model, we acquire the edges that complete the shape of a floor. Redundant vertices and edges are eliminated using a minimum neighborhood distance check. Figure 6 shows the acquired floors of three example buildings.
We then use vertical faces to connect floors: each edge on a floor generates one vertical face by projecting itself to the floor below. Two floors are fully connected once all edges on the upper floor have been projected (Figure 4-c). Doing so will lose non-MW features such as non-vertical walls, peaked roofs or complex facade ornaments (Figure 16). However for MW buildings we find it generally gives good approximations.
Finally we add texture to the remeshed model. We project faces in the original model to the remeshed model with their textures. Each face is projected along its own normal direction. The texture on the remeshed model is then interpolated from the projections. In practice multiple textures might project onto the same face in the remeshed model. In this case we select the projection that covers the largest area of the face.
4.2. Structure Detection
To detect the structure of the model, we are interested in the floors that result in significant changes to the building’s shape. These floors (the orange ones in Figure 6) “cut” the building into a few blocks, where floors significantly change their shapes across two blocks but remain relatively consistent inside each one.
Let us name the sequence of floors in a remeshed model \( \{f_1, \ldots, f_m\} \). To find the cuts, we calculate the ratio between the areas of two successive floors by dividing the larger floor by the smaller floor: \( r_i = \frac{\text{max}(f_i, f_{i-1})}{\text{min}(f_i, f_{i-1})} \). A naive solution is to keep floors that have \( r \) larger than a certain threshold.
But this would require the threshold to be set manually for each building as the degree of floor variation varies from one building to another. Instead we use local maxima to identify the cuts. This means a cut should satisfy \( r_i > r_{i-1} \) and \( r_i > r_{i+1} \). Three buildings are shown in Figure 6 where the cuts are rendered in orange and the non-cut floors are rendered in gray. Blocks are generated by vertically extruding the bounding boxes of the cuts. All blocks together form a base model of the building that summarizes its structure.
### 4.3. Style Sheet Capture
Now we explain how to acquire a style sheet. We first introduce the basic idea of having a shape layer and a texture layer in the design of a style sheet, then explain how to use consistent face group to improve the detection of procedural rules for complex facades.
#### 4.3.1. Shape Layer
The shape layer stores the shape details of the building. We break the mesh contained by each block into four walls: the front, the right, the back and the left (Figure 4-c). The advantage of having these walls is their thicknesses are adjustable in the later retargeting stage (Figure 11).
In order to acquire the walls, we break each floor into four pieces – that is one piece for each side of the block. A wall contains all floor pieces from the same side. In practice we use the four corners of a floor’s bounding box and identify each corner a nearest neighbor vertex on the floor contour. These four vertices are used as the break points.
#### 4.3.2. Texture Layer
A texture layer stores texture maps and procedural rules. Each face on a wall is associated with one texture map and a pair of splitting rules, one horizontal and one vertical (Figure 5, bottom). These rules split the texture map into two types of element: the insertable (windows) and the scalable (non-window part of the facades). In this way new textures can be procedurally generated: the insertable elements can be added or removed depending on the size of each retargeted face and the scalable elements fill the space between them.
#### 4.3.3. Consistent Face Groups
A MW building usually contains different window patterns that generate the rhythm of its facade (Figure 2-b). Consequently it is difficult to use a single pair of procedural rules to model the texture of the entire building. It is not optimal to detect procedural rules from individual faces as inconsistent texture layouts are likely to be generated in the retargeting stage (Figure 7-a).
Our solution is to identify groups of faces that have consistent shape and texture properties, such that there is one splitting rule for each group. Using this group-based rule detection, we are able to capture complex decorations from the example building and generate tidy facade layouts for the new models (Figure 7-b).
We first identify horizontally consistent groups. We note all faces between two successive floors have the same height, which is the vertical gap between the two floors. Moreover, windows on these faces are usually aligned so a single vertical splitting rule is applicable. Hence a horizontally consistent group can be simply defined as all faces between two successive floors. Figure 8-b shows horizontally consistent groups using a colour-coded facade, where each colour represents one group.
Vertical consistency also exists, for example, a stack of faces that share the same width and window pattern (Figure 8-c). In order to identify vertically consistent groups, we link faces by following a bottom to top traversal: for each face \( p_i \) we find its neighboring face \( p_j \) from the floor above, and link \( p_i \) and \( p_j \) if they have similar shape (width) and texture. The shape similarity is calculated as
$$
\phi_{i,j}^{\text{shape}} = \frac{\cap(\zeta_i, \zeta_j)}{\min(\zeta_i, \zeta_j)}
$$
where \( \zeta \) is the width of a face and \( \cap(\zeta_i, \zeta_j) \) is the width of the two faces’ overlapping section. The texture similarity is calculated as the correlation between two colour signals:
$$
\phi_{i,j}^{\text{texture}} = \text{corr}(\omega_i, \omega_j)
$$
where each signal \( \omega \) is calculated by averaging the pixel columns in the texture map. A link is added if \( \phi_{i,j}^{\text{shape}} > 0.9 \) and \( \phi_{i,j}^{\text{texture}} > 0.5 \).
#### 4.3.4. Splitting Rules
Now we detect splitting rules based on consistent face groups. Specifically, we acquire one vertical splitting rule
from each horizontally consistent group, and one horizontal splitting rule from each vertically consistent group. In practice we average texture maps of all group members for the detection of the rules. In this way the acquired rules generalize better for all group members. Figure 9 shows an example of an averaged texture map that is used to detect a horizontal splitting rule (vertical splitting rules can be detected in the similar way).
Our key assumption is that scalable elements (defined in Section 4.3.2, which are non-window part of the facades) should have a homogenous colour that is different from the insertable elements (such as windows), hence large colour variance should be detected for image columns that intersect with both types of elements.
To detect the rule, we first calculate a discrete horizontal colour variance signal $\text{var}(i)$ (Figure 9, top) from image columns of the texture map (Figure 9, middle). The goal is to classify the signal into a sequence of insertable sections and scalable sections (the blue and the orange labels in Figure 9, bottom). This is essentially a binary 1D labeling problem. Let $l(i) = 1$ mean the label of an insertable element and $l(i) = 0$ mean the label of a scalable element, we use dynamic programming to find the optimal labeling by minimizing the following energy function:
$$l = \arg\min \left( \sum_{i=1}^{n} E_d(l(i)) + \lambda \sum_{i=2}^{n} E_s(l(i-1), l(i)) \right) \quad (3)$$
Here $i$ is the index for each place in the signal, $n$ is the length of the signal and $\lambda = 0.025$ is the relative weight of two terms: the data term $E_d$ and the smoothness term $E_s$.
The data term is the cumulative distance of each value to its assigned cluster center. We use k-means ($k = 2$) to initialize the two cluster centres $\mu_0$ and $\mu_1$ from the signal. The data term is then calculated as:
$$E_d(l(i)) = \left\{ \begin{array}{ll} |\text{var}(i) - \mu_0 | & \text{if } l(i) = 0 \\ |\text{var}(i) - \mu_1 | & \text{if } l(i) = 1 \end{array} \right. \quad (4)$$
The smoothness term $E_s$ promote spatial coherence for the labels of adjacent signal values:
$$E_s(l(i-1), l(i)) = \left\{ \begin{array}{ll} 1 & \text{if } l(i-1) \neq l(i) \\ 0 & \text{if } l(i-1) = l(i) \end{array} \right. \quad (5)$$
As in [MWW12], we minimize Equation 3 by accumulating the energy over the stages followed by a reverse backtracking of a minimum energy path. Figure 9 shows the result labels: blue means scalable and orange means insertable. Notice the colour bands correlate well with the texture map.
Dynamic programming can sometimes produce fragmented labels. In this case a user-specified objective window size can be used to merge insertable sections whose lengths are significantly smaller than the objective window size.
We write the horizontal splitting function as $[S_n, S_r] = \text{split}_h(\vec{A}, \vec{B}, W)$. The input $\vec{A} = [a_1, a_2, \ldots, a_m]$ and $\vec{B} = [b_1, b_2, \ldots, b_n]$ are vectors encoding the splitting rule. They essentially describe the detected wall and window widths from the input texture (see Figure 9). $W$ is the width of the new face to be split. The output is a pair of numbers $[S_n, S_r]$, where $S_n$ is the number of insertable elements and $S_r$ is the scaling factor for the scalable elements. We will explain the splitting function in more detail in Section 5.2. For highly regular textures we could summarize vectors $\vec{A}$ and $\vec{B}$ using their average values. However in practice we find it is useful to keep the full vectors so irregularities can be retained.
Similarly, a vertical splitting rule can be detected using image rows of the texture maps. Its corresponding splitting function is written as $[S_n, S_r] = \text{split}_v(\vec{C}, \vec{D}, H)$, where $\vec{C}$ and $\vec{D}$ encodes the vertical splitting rule, and $H$ is the height of the face to be split.
We can use the splitting functions to re-generate the texture layout of the input model (Figure 7-b). Compared
to the result of using rules detected from individual faces (Figure 7-a), consistent face groups produce significantly better aligned texture layout.
5. Style Retargeting
Our purpose in acquiring the style of a building is to transfer it onto new models. Separating the structure from the style sheet allows retargeting between models of different structures, for example Figure 10-a and Figure 10-b. Such base models can be created manually or by applying our structure detection algorithm (4.2) to existing building models.
Our retargeting contains two steps: shape retargeting and texture retargeting. Next we explain them in detail.
5.1. Shape Retargeting
For shape retargeting, our method selects a good match from the source model for each block in the target model. It then maps the shape contained in the selected source block onto its matched target block.
5.1.1. Block Matching
We use a greedy matching algorithm that follows a bottom to top traversal. For a source block $i$ and a target block $j$ we calculate a shape cost $\Psi_{shape}(i, j)$ and a volume cost $\Psi_{volume}(i, j)$. We seek to minimize the transformation cost defined as:
$$\Psi(i, j) = \Psi_{shape}(i, j) \times \Psi_{volume}(i, j). \quad (6)$$
The shape cost $\Psi_{shape}(i, j)$ penalizes potential matches where one or more of the dimensions differ greatly between source and target blocks. Let $[\eta_1, \eta_2, \eta_3]$ denote the width, height and depth of a building block. We first normalize the sum of each block’s three dimensions to a unit one: $\bar{\eta}_1 = \frac{\eta_1}{\eta_1 + \eta_2 + \eta_3}$, $\bar{\eta}_2 = \frac{\eta_2}{\eta_1 + \eta_2 + \eta_3}$, and $\bar{\eta}_3 = \frac{\eta_3}{\eta_1 + \eta_2 + \eta_3}$. Then we calculate $\Psi_{shape}(i, j)$ as:
$$\Psi_{shape}(i, j) = \max\left(\bar{\eta}_1, \frac{\bar{\eta}_2}{\bar{\eta}_1}, \frac{\bar{\eta}_3}{\bar{\eta}_1}\right) \max\left(\bar{\eta}_2, \frac{\bar{\eta}_1}{\bar{\eta}_2}, \frac{\bar{\eta}_3}{\bar{\eta}_2}\right) \max\left(\bar{\eta}_3, \frac{\bar{\eta}_1}{\bar{\eta}_3}, \frac{\bar{\eta}_2}{\bar{\eta}_3}\right). \quad (7)$$
The volume cost penalizes matches between blocks of different relative volumes. The relative volume of a block is as: $vol_i = \frac{\eta_1 \times \eta_2 \times \eta_3}{\sum_{i=1}^{n} \eta_1 \times \eta_2 \times \eta_3}$. The volume cost is then calculated as $\Psi_{volume}(i, j) = \frac{\max(vol_i, vol_j)}{\min(vol_i, vol_j)}$.
The final cost $\Psi(i, j)$ is the product of the shape term and the volume term. For each target block, our greedy solution selects the source block that results in the lowest cost. Figure 10 shows the matching result between two buildings, where the matched blocks are labeled by the same colour. Note the matching does not have to be one to one.
5.1.2. Shape Mapping
For each matched pair, we map the shape contained in the source block to the target. Specifically, we parameterize a similarity transformation using block corners as the correspondences. This transformation is used to map all walls from the source block to the target.
However, in practice artefacts can be raised by incompatible building blocks. Figure 11-a shows an example, where the orange wall in the upper block reaches over the blue wall in the lower block. This contradicts our experience that the upper part of a MW building is usually supported by its lower part.
To remove such artefacts we change the inner boundary of the blue wall (Figure 11-b). Let $\delta$ denote the thickness of a wall, that is the distance between its inner and outer boundaries. We simply scale the thickness of the blue wall to $\delta'$, which is a portion (set to 0.9 in this paper) of the distance between the orange and the blue walls’ outer boundaries.
In practice we find it is not helpful to retarget the top or the bottom of a source building to the main body of a target model. The reason is that these parts of a building usually have characteristic shapes and textures that do not exist elsewhere. Hence we force the bottom of the source model to be retargeted to the bottom of the target model, and the top of the source model to be retargeted to the top of the target model. In practice, users need to manually label the bottom and top blocks so they can be separated from the building’s main body. Note this labeling task and the standard view selection in the preprocessing step (Section 4) are the only required manual inputs of our system.
over-shifted, that is, we require that if vertex \( v_i \) is matched with vertex \( v_j \), then \(|v_i - v_j|\) is no larger than a window parameter \( \kappa \). In this paper we set \( \kappa \) as 0.2 of the width of the building from the reference view. Note in practice some faces may be squeezed to zero width and if so they will be removed from the model.
5.2.2. Texture Re-assignment
Although the snapped faces are geometrically aligned, they may have inconsistent textures as indicated by the fragments in the colour-coded facade (Figure 12-b). We use a texture re-assignment process to solve this problem. Specifically, the texture maps of large consistent groups are assigned to the smaller groups. The result is a fragment-free colour-coded facade (Figure 12-c).
5.2.3. Procedural Generation
Finally we split each face using the splitting functions. Suppose we need to horizontally split a face using \([S_n, S_r] = \text{split}_h([A, B, W])\). Recall \( A = [a_1, a_2, ..., a_{m+1}] \) are the widths of scalable elements and \( B = [b_1, b_2, ..., b_m] \) are the widths of insertable elements, and \( W \) is the width of the face to be split. To split we first estimate \( S_n \), which is the number of insertable elements (windows) that fits \( W \). We then calculate \( S_r \), which is the scaling factor for filling the remaining space with the scalable elements.
To calculate \( S_n \), we first calculate \( x \), the maximum repeats for the original texture map and \( y \), the maximum number of windows that can be inserted into the remaining space. This can be calculated by maximizing the following function with \( W \) as the upper bound:
\[
(x, y) = \arg \max \left( \sum_{i=1}^{m} b_i + \sum_{i=1}^{m+1} a_i \right) + \sum_{j=1}^{y} b_j \tag{8}
\]
Here \( x \) can be calculated as the quotient of \( \frac{W}{\sum_{i=1}^{m+1} a_i} \), and \( y \) is the maximum number of insertable elements that can fit into the space \( W - x(\sum_{i=1}^{m+1} a_i + \sum_{j=1}^{y} b_j) \). The total number of windows is then calculated as \( S_n = x \times m + y \), which means in the generated texture, \([b_1, b_2, ..., b_m]\) will repeat \( x \) times and \([a_1, a_2, ..., a_{m+1}]\) will be added to the tail.
The remaining space, \( W - x(\sum_{i=1}^{m+1} a_i + \sum_{j=1}^{y} b_j) \), is to be filled by the scalable elements. As each insertable element is adjacent to two scalable elements, the total number of scalable elements is \( x \times (m + 1) + y + 1 \). This means in the generated texture, \([a_1, a_2, ..., a_{m+1}]\) will be repeated \( x \) times and \([a_1, a_2, ..., a_{y+1}]\) will be added to the tail. Hence the scaling factor is
\[
S_r = \frac{W - x(\sum_{i=1}^{m+1} a_i + \sum_{j=1}^{y+1} a_j) - \sum_{j=1}^{y} b_j}{x \sum_{i=1}^{m+1} a_i + \sum_{j=1}^{y+1} a_j} \tag{9}
\]
(C) 2013 The Author(s)
(C) 2013 The Eurographics Association and Blackwell Publishing Ltd.
6. Results and Discussion
This section demonstrates our results and discusses the advantages of our method compared to related approaches such as [ARB07] and [LCOZ11]. Figure 14 shows our method is able to work with different types of Manhattan World buildings. Each row starts from an example model which is followed by five new models stylized using the example’s style sheet. The last picture of each row is a close-up inspection of the top of the fifth model. One important advantage of our system is its ability to generate models with various floor shapes and textures. Specifically, we allow each horizontally consistent group to have its own vertical splitting pattern, and each vertically consistent group to have its own horizontal splitting pattern. This is be difficult to achieve using the regular pattern detected from one floor or one flat facade. It also requires non-trivial manual input for existing methods like [ARB07]. Note a similar idea has appeared in [MWW12], where the authors use so-called “coherence-groups” to improve window detection for a complex facade texture. The main difference is [MWW12] is an interactive solution, and our method is automatic – given the facade texture is segmented by the mesh and the window layout in each segment is grid-like. Note although this paper uses a colour variance based method for local texture rule detection, other repetition detectors can be used when the colour variance assumption does not work well.
Separating the structure of a model from its appearance details is another advantage of our system. Our system uses building blocks to match the structures of different models and automatically transfers the shape and texture details from the source to the targets. Compared to the “retargeting by scaling” approaches such as [LCOZ11], our method works better with models of different structures. In this paper, the base models are acquired using the structure detection method introduced in section 4.2. In practice, our system also works with manually made or procedurally generated base models, as long as they are represented by building blocks. Figure 13 shows an stylized building generated from a manually created base model.
Our system also allows users to edit the output models. For example, a user can interactively change the shape of the building by resizing its building blocks. Figure 15 shows an example of altering the size of an existing model. Notice our system generates textures that fit the resized model using procedural rules. This avoids artefacts such as distorted windows from using image scaling, or mis-aligned windows from using traditional example based texture synthesis.
The major free parameters of our system are fixed (values are given throughout the paper) for different buildings. In practice our system spends most of its running time to acquire the style sheet – on average about 30 seconds for a textured model with 5000 polygons using an Intel i7 processor. It takes about 10 seconds to generate a new model of the same complexity.
In this paper the structure of a building is detected by the significant “cuts” along the vertical direction. Indeed it is possible to cut a model along other directions, especially along the other two dominant directions of the Manhattan World buildings. We choose to only use horizontal cuts for two reasons: First, the shape of a MW building mainly varies with height so it is easier to identify significant cuts from the floors. Second, the floors have interesting properties. For example, the windows between two successive floors...
are usually levelled, so horizontal consistent groups are naturally produced.
7. Limitations
Finally we discuss the range of buildings that our system is designed to work with. Choosing Manhattan World regularizes the problem solution. In particular it makes the automatic acquisition and retargeting of a building’s appearance style a feasible task. In consequence our current method will have difficulties with models which have non-MW world features, such as non-vertical walls and peaked roofs. Figure 16 shows an example of such a building. Our remeshing process may lose complex facade details due to our use of vertical faces. An interesting future work is to include non-MW world features as terminal shapes in our system.
Another limitation comes from the building blocks that are used for retargeting. Building blocks can not accurately describe L-shapes, T-shapes, or polygons that are not four-sided, such as the hexagon example in Figure 16. A possible solution is to include different types of building blocks for abstracting these building models. In this paper...
we only use horizontal planes to cut the model. This works fine for MW buildings whose shape mainly varies along with height. A multiple directional structure detection algorithm may be required for working with buildings of more complex shapes. The algorithm also requires that the texture can be split into a grid, which is usually applicable to window textures. If the building contains some special structure, e.g. important ornaments, or the windows are not placed in a grid style, then user assistance is needed to improve the acquisition of procedural rules. Currently our system acquires splitting rules from texture images. This works fine for models of medium level shape complexity where such details are stored as textures. For models that have complex shape details, we would need to use a 3D repetition detector or even interactive methods as [LCOZ’11] did.
The vertical consistency of retargeted textures is improved using face snapping and texture re-assignment. However, the improvement comes with a cost of texture richness (due to the texture re-assignment operation). This can be identified by comparing the colour coded facades in Figure 12-b and Figure 12-c. In practice users can balance the consistency and the richness of the generated texture by manually setting a threshold for the maximum size of the fragments to be re-assigned with new textures. In the future it is interesting to explore high-level semantics for a better automatic solution.
Last but not the least we discuss issues related to user interaction. We first discuss situations that user interactions are required, and then discuss situations that user interactions can be used to improve the results.
In this paper the required user interactions are 1) choosing the standard view of the model in the re-meshing process, 2) separating the top and bottom from the rest of the building. While the first can be replaced by a PCA analysis, the second is crucially important to achieve the results demonstrated in the paper. For example, the base of the first example building in Figure 14 has doors and shops. It would be implausible to retarget them to the main body of the generated models. The second example building has a stylish top. It should be retargeted to the top of other buildings (see the third, fourth and fifth generated buildings in the same row). In practice user interaction is needed to ensure such features are correctly identified in the structure detection stage and properly matched in the retarget stage.
Next we discuss several cases that user interaction can be adapted to remove artefacts in the automatic solution. In this paper the quality of the input model has a strong impact on the result: a modeler can subdivide a face into an arbitrary number of faces, and carelessly crafted model will contain mis-aligned faces that causes false grouping and inconsistent retargeting. Currently a user need to remove such artefact by manually editing the input model. In the future we will investigate better solutions to this issue, for example, by automatically splitting and merging the faces in the remeshed model.
Figure 15: A user can change the shape of the building by operating on its blocks. Here we show examples of resizing a building. The decoration layout of the resized model is well aligned using our style sheet.
Figure 16: One limitation of our system is that it does not work well with buildings which have non-MW world features. (a) shows a model of the Basilique Saint-Michel de Bordeaux. Some of its features, such as the non-vertical edges and hat roofs are missing from the remeshed model (b). Meantime, its hexagonal shape body is not suitable for being abstracted using four-sided building blocks (c).
We use automatic face snapping to optimize the appearance of the retarget buildings. However, unsnapped fragments, as on the lower left part of the building in Figure 12-b, can still occur. Although we address this problem by automatically re-assigning the texture to the fragments, user interaction could be an alternative solution. For example, let users have the option to “paint” on the colour coded facade to personalize the texture layout.
8. Conclusion
We propose the style sheet as a novel representation for Manhattan World buildings, and use it for model stylization. Our method is able to handle multiple architectural patterns across a building, and retarget the captured style to models of potentially different structures. Our users will also benefit
from reduced manual input for inverse modeling, with simultaneous capturing of shapes and textures.
We have demonstrated the use of our system on different types of MW buildings, and the generation of new models of the same style. Our output models are as visually plausible as the input examples which are suitable for 3D map applications such as the Google Earth. However, the quality of the output model cannot surpass the input models. In the future we would like to use high resolution facade images, or even dense 3D point clouds to improve the visual quality for applications that require close-ups.
Although the structure detection and style sheet generation techniques described in this paper rely on the MW assumption, the concept of base structure and style separation can be generalized to work with buildings of non-MW features as future work. It would also be interesting to make our method scalable to different shape complexities by fusing 2D and 3D repetition detections.
9. Acknowledgements
We thank reviewers for their valuable suggestions. We thank Darren Cosker, Peter Hall, David Pickup and Thomas Saunders for inspiring discussions. We also thank University of Bath for supporting this work.
We thank Darren Cosker, Peter Hall, David Pickup and Thomas Saunders for inspiring discussions. We also thank University of Bath for supporting this work.
References
[PM01] Parish Y. I. H., Muller P.: Procedural modeling of cities. SIGGRAPH (2001), 301–308. 1, 2
|
The solfège of technical objects: notes on the potential contribution of Gilbert Simondon to sound studies and arts
By José Henrique Padovani
Abstract
The extended meaning of solfège in Pierre Schaeffer’s theoretical and artistic work is briefly introduced. Then, Gilbert Simondon’s philosophical ideas are summarised, and their potential contribution to the field of sound studies is discussed. Simondon’s concepts of ‘individuation’, ‘transduction’, ‘information’, ‘modulation’ and others are presented, as well as his main critical analysis of the hylomorphic perspective. Simondon’s attempt to seek a more congruous and well-balanced coupling between human and technical beings is corroborated, and this corroboration supports the contention that this approach to sonic practices demands a ‘solfège of technical objects’ that may have political and ethical consequences, as well as theoretical and artistic reverberations relative to how we deal with sounds.
Keywords
solfège, technology, technical object, individuation, Gilbert Simondon
Introduction
The perceptive processes and the very concept of what is related to the term solfège were deeply transformed by post-war music and sonic practices. This occurred due to the creative and theoretical reconsideration of solfège by Pierre Schaeffer (1996, pp. 490-508) and as a consequence of the development of techniques and technical objects that changed how we imagine, create, perform and listen to sounds and music.¹
The post-war period also saw the development of new technological resources, such as studio equipment and the first digital computers, that had a growing impact on sound and music creation, production and diffusion. During this period, Gilbert Simondon wrote his works L’individuation: à la lumière des notions de forme et d’information (Simondon, 2005a) and Du mode d’existence des objets techniques (Simondon, 1989), both of which were published in 1958. In the first, Simondon presents a new philosophical framework to address the issue of ontogenesis through the concept of individuation, i.e. the process through which an individual originates and detaches itself from a surrounding environment. In the second, he develops the outcomes of these new concepts and casts new light on the question of technology by introducing his theoretical formulations of technical objects.
If the work on individuation can enrich sound studies by providing new conceptual formulations, such as ‘dephasing’, ‘information’, ‘transduction’, ‘modulation’ and other key terms to Simondon’s thought, the thesis on the technical objects is of interest for broader reconsideration of musical practices that were redefined by Schaeffer’s solfège généralisé and his programme de la recherche musicale. We imagine, listen, create and perform sounds and music through the mediation of technical objects and techniques.
The practices and approaches proposed by Schaeffer and other post-war composers and artists could only flourish and develop due to the concomitant development of new techniques, technical objects and technical ensembles, such as amplification, the microphone and the radio studio, respectively.
These new technical resources not only allow us to perform sound-related activities in new ways, they also require us to understand the technical particularities that shape our mediated interactions with sounds and our own imaginative and auditory faculties. As will be shown from Simondon’s ideas, if on one hand these new technical objects enable us to have a completely new relationship with the creation and perception of music and sounds, on the other, they require a new dialogical interaction with their mechanisms and modes of operation. These tools, instruments, devices or machines reproduce, to a certain extent, the stereotyped human ideas, gestures and operations that are registered in their gears, technical parts and procedures. When using them, we not only deal with sounds but also with the preconceived ideas that we set in motion when we use these objects to mediate different actions, such as listening, composing and performing.
This article presents some of these Simondonian concepts and ideas and relates them to listening, imagination and creation practices summarised in the already extended meaning of the term solfège after Schaeffer. Particularly, this article aims to introduce Simondon’s thought into the fields of sound arts and studies, and to outline the potential reconsideration of these practices, starting from the pursuit of an active interpretation of the technical objects that mediate our activities.
**Solfège**
One of the reasons that Schaeffer gives to justify his programme de la recherche musicale and his project for solfège experimental is the diagnostics that, in various fields, such as music theory, education and composition, it was possible to identify the primacy of activities of sound production and fabrication according to certain types of ‘schemes, notations or intentions’, i.e. thème, at the expense of listening and the effort required to refine our perception of sounds, i.e. version (Chion, 1983, p. 90; Schaeffer, 1996, p. 147). Indeed, the main target of traditional solfège was not the perception and production of sound itself, but the music parameters that could be notated using the schematic symbols of music scores. Schaeffer’s new generalised solfège offered methodical resources to develop ‘the art of better listening’, thereby inverting the unbalanced relation between making and listening. This was proposed by presenting conceptual and methodical tools to identify, describe, analyse and manipulate sonic objects. The Schaefferian solfège precisely aims to enable, among other things, the identification of individualised sonic objects by recognising the qualitative features that allow us to ‘isolate them from the sound chain’ (Chion, 1983, p. 35) and to enable the recognition of their morphological characteristics, thereby providing new concepts and parameters to describe them qualitatively (Chion, 1983, p. 113). This is done through reduced listening, which largely depends on the mediation of technical objects and the new sound handling techniques that they enable, notably ‘cut bell’ and ‘locked groove’, which are two primitive experiences that would later be developed in concepts such as reduced listening and sonic object.
It is possible to relate Schaeffer’s solfège to the two main topics that Simondon develops in his theses, i.e. individuation and technology.
In approaching solfège from the perspective of Simondon’s theory of individuation and his philosophy of technology, what Schaeffer understands as a sonic object depends on both its individuation and technical mediation. The sounds of a bell or violin exist as individualised sonic objects from the moment they are perceived as being dynamically detached (individuated) from a background sound chain through a process called transduction, to use the philosopher’s terminology. Simply put, a sonic object can be considered a sonic individual that originates and holds its individuality when it is not merged with other sonic objects or the underlying sonic environment. On the other hand, the recognition, description, analysis and manipulation of such objects depend on the mediation of specific technical elements, technical objects, technical ensembles and techniques. In fact, despite the focus on listening and the proposition of procedures and concepts to deal with sounds, this new solfège emerged and developed from direct manipulations and experimental interactions with the technical objects found in the studio. Using tools such as the turntable, mixer, and phonogène, or even by developing and applying specific idiosyncratic inventions, such as the potentiomètre d’espace (Manning, 2004, p. 26) Schaeffer had key insights for his theoretical and artistic work, e.g. as previously mentioned, with the ‘cut bell’ (Schaeffer, 1998, pp. 115-16).
To establish viable connections between these Simondonian concepts and the sound practices and studies that can be related to the term solfège, it is important to outline Simondon’s main ideas.
**Dephasing, information, transduction**
In his thesis on individuation, Simondon’s perspective is preceded by a critique of substantialist and hylomorphic views.
“The reality of being as an individual may be approached in two ways: either via a substantialist path whereby being is considered as consistent in its unity, given to itself, founded upon itself, not created, resistant to that which it is not; or via a hylomorphic path, whereby the individual is considered to be created by the coming together of form and matter. The self-centered monism of substantialism is opposed to the bipolarity of the hylomorphic schema. However, there is something that these two approaches to the reality of the individual have in common: both presuppose the existence of a principle of individuation that is anterior to the individuation itself.” (Simondon, 2005a, p. 23; 2009, p. 4).
Rather than taking the individual for granted, Simondon argues that we should attempt to understand the process of individuation and ‘know the individual through the individuation, rather than the individuation through the individual’ (Simondon, 2005a, p. 24; 2009, p. 5). He adds that the process of individuation results in the actual individual and also creates the ‘individual-milieu’ pair.
“Pre-individual being is being in which there is no phase; the being in which individuation occurs is that in which a resolution appears through the division of being into phases. This division of being into phases is becoming. Becoming is not a framework in which being exists, it is a dimension of being, a mode of resolution of an initial incompatibility that is rich in potentials. Individuation corresponds to the appearance of phases in being that are the phases of being.” (Simondon, 2005a, p. 25; 2009, p. 6).
Simondon’s use of the word *phase* can be related to two slightly different meanings of this term in physics. When used to address the study of matter, materials and systems, *phase* can be defined as the ‘homogeneous part of a heterogeneous system that is separated from other parts by a distinguishable boundary’ (Rennie, 2015, p. 426). When used to describe oscillatory systems, the term *phase* acquires a dynamical and relational connotation, describing the
“stage that a periodic motion has reached, usually by comparison with another such motion of the same frequency. Two varying quantities are said to be in phase if their maximum and minimum values occur at the same instants; otherwise, there is said to be a phase difference.” (Rennie, 2015, p. 426).
Considering these two connotations of the term *phase*, an *individual* not only has a different *phase* regarding what surrounds it, but also has a *phase difference* compared to other dynamical processes that may occur nearby. In the first definition, an individual arises when it detaches from a background homogeneity with the clear emergence of ‘a distinguishable boundary’ between the *individual* and the *environment*. In the second definition, the dynamical process of individuation is characterised by a process in which the *individual* not only dissociates from a medium, but also becomes and stays out of *phase* in relation to surrounding objects, processes, substances, etc.
According to Simondon, the individual arises not from some sort of demiurgic association between a given passive *matter* and an equally abstract *form*. Rather, it emerges from the process of *allagmatic exchange* of energy (*transduction*) that informs the being ‘from part to part’ and in different orders of magnitude, i.e. from both inside and outside the edges of what will be the resulting individual. [3] From this perspective, rather than the notion of *form*, we should think about *individuation* in terms of *information*. However, such *information* is not conceived as the ‘signals or to the supports or carriers of information in a message, as the technological theory of *information* tends to do’ (Simondon, 2005a, p. 35; 2009, p. 12), rather it is *information* considered as the *momentum of individuation*, i.e. *information* demands the *dephasing* of a pre-individual being and its subsequent division into *individual* and *milieu*. *Information*…
“[…] is a *demand for individuation*, for the passage from a metastable system to a stable system; it is never a given thing. (…) Information can only be inherent to a problematic; it is *that by which the incompatibility of the non-resolved system becomes an organizing dimension in the resolution*; information supposes a phase *change of a system*, because it supposes an initial preindividual state that individuates itself according to the discovered organization. *Information* is the formula of individuation, a formula that cannot exist prior to this individuation.” (Simondon, 2005a, p. 31; 2009, p. 10).
If *information* can be understood as the *demand of individuation*, the process that propagates *information* and describes the dynamical process of *individuation* is referred to as *transduction*.
“By *transduction* we mean an operation – physical, biological, mental, social – by which an activity propagates itself from one element to the next, within a given domain, and founds this propagation on a structuration of the domain that is realised from place to place: each area of the constituted structure serves as the principle and the model for the next area, as a primer for its constitution, to
the extent that the modification expands progressively at the same time as the structuring operation. A crystal that, from a very small seed, grows and expands in all directions in its supersaturated mother liquid provides the most simple image of the transductive operation: each already constituted molecular layer serves as an organizing basis for the layer currently being formed. (…) Transduction can be a vital operation; it expresses, in particular, the direction of the organic individuation; it can be a psychic operation and an effective logical procedure, even though it is not limited to logical thought. In the domain of knowledge, it defines the veritable process of invention, which is neither inductive nor deductive, but transductive, which means that it corresponds to a discovery of the dimensions according to which a problematic can be defined. It is that which is valid in the analogical operation. This notion can be used to understand the different domains of individuation: it applies to all cases where an individuation occurs, expressing the genesis of a network of relations founded on being. (…) Transduction corresponds to this existence of relations that are born when the preindividual being individuates itself; it expresses individuation and allows it to be thought; it is therefore a notion that is both metaphysical and logical.” (Simondon, 2005a, p. 32; 2009, p. 11).
According to Simondon’s perspective, transduction is a process that occurs not only in chemical or physical operations, but also in biological, psychological and social dimensions, thereby driving the individuation process through the propagation of information.
Thus, the term transduction is not restricted to its connotation in acoustics and audio engineering as the process of transmission/conversion between different forms of energy through transducers, such as microphones, loudspeakers, etc. (Rossing, 2007, p. 761). Simondon’s perspective reconsiders these processes as not distinct from others that are at stake when, for instance, we are creating, listening to or interacting with sounds. The very recognition and delimitation of individual sonic objects can be related to a transduction process that occurs not so much during the mechanism of recording/reproduction, but, above all, in the perceptual and psychophysiological processes that enable us to detach these sounds from a continuum and identify, analyse and manipulate them individually using technical means.
Technical individuation
Given that individuation and transduction are processes that can be investigated in multiple dimensions (physical, chemical, biological, psychological, social, etc.), they can also be applied to sound studies as a means to understand how we identify, qualify and deal with individual sounds. Furthermore, Simondon’s thought is particularly suggestive regarding the application of technical concepts, images and words to develop a theoretical perspective on ontogenesis and individuation.
In this sense, it is relevant that the very first paragraphs of his thesis on individuation refute the hylomorphic schema, not because it departs from a dualistic perspective on physics and technology—which, in principle, could explain how objects such as a brick or statue are produced by addressing their formal and material causes—but rather because this model is highly abstract and distant from actual technological mediation. It ignores the handicraft knowledge and work that result in real individual objects.
“The technological character of the origin of a model does not invalidate this model, with the condition that the operation which is used as a basis for the formation of the utilised concepts passes entirely and expresses itself without deterioration in the abstract model. If, on the contrary, the abstraction is carried out in an unfaithful and summary manner, by masking one of the fundamental dynamisms of the technical operation, the model is false. Instead of having a true paradigmatic value, it is nothing more than a comparison, a more or less rigorous juxtaposition according to the cases.
However, in the technical operation which gives rise to an object having form and matter, like a clay brick, the real dynamism of the operation is extremely far from being able to be represented by the matter-form couple.” (Simondon, 2005a, pp. 39-40; 2007a).
Taking brick production as an example, Simondon argues that both the mould and the clay cannot be reduced to the *hylomorphic* scheme. Both have properties that are carefully developed during their own technological production and whose *formal* and *material* functions are crucial to individuation of the brick through the manufacturing process. Nevertheless, the final brick is not the sum of *formal* and *material* dimensions. It is the *mediation* between two different technical elements: the clay and the mould. These two elements, as well as the energy that the artisan transfers to the clay, inform each part of the individual from different *orders of magnitude*.
What distinguishes Simondon’s view of *technical individuation* from the *hylomorphic* scheme is that, even in the case of an apparently still object, such as the brick, the process of individuation that underlies its manufacture is *dynamical*. Thus, it cannot be completely represented by the motionless image of the *hylomorphic* combination of matter and form.
This dynamical approach makes it possible to compare, as not essentially distinct, heterogeneous technological processes, such as the *moulding* of a brick and the electrical *modulation* of triodes.
“The difference between the two cases lies in the fact that, for the clay, the operation of taking form is finished in time: it tends, rather slowly (in a few seconds) towards a state of equilibrium, until the brick is taken from the mold; one uses the state of equilibrium while unmolding when it is reached. In the electron tube, one employs a support of energy (the cloud of electrons in a field) that presents a very weak inertia, so that the state of equilibrium (adequacy between the distribution of the electrons and the gradient of the electric field) is obtained in an extremely rapid time compared to the preceding (some billionths of a second in a tube of greater dimensions, some tenth of a billionth of a second in the smaller tubes). Under these conditions, the potential of the grid of order is used as a *variable mold*; the distribution of the support of energy according to this mold is so fast that it is carried out within the smallest minimum time for the majority of the applications: the variable mold is then used to vary in time the actualization of the potential energy of a source; one has stopped not when equilibrium is reached, one continues by modifying the mold, i.e., the grid voltage; actualization is almost instantaneous, there is no end to its release from the mold, because the circulation of the support of energy is equivalent to a *permanent release from the mold*; a modulator is a *continuous temporal mold*. (…) The mold and the modulator are extreme cases, but the essential operation of taking form is achieved there in the same way; it consists of the establishment
of energy, durable or not. To mold is to modulate in a final way; to modulate is
to mold in a continuous and perpetually variable way.” (Simondon, 2005a, pp.
46-47; 2007b).
By challenging the hylomorphic view that reduces technical and artistic creations to the
association of passive and abstract forms and materials, Simondon disputes perspectives
that underestimate or ignore the real handicraft and technical processes that are in
progress when an artisan works in his workshop. Such perspective ‘corresponds to the
knowledge of a man that remains outside the workshop and does not take into account
anything except what goes in and what comes out’ (Simondon, 2005a, p. 46). He also
rejects the very social and intellectual perspective that segregates technological
operations from knowledge and culture and delegates the power to create individuals to
an abstract form.
“We could say that, in a civilization that divides men in two groups, those who
give orders and those who execute them, the principle of individuation,
according to the technological example, is necessarily attributed to either form
or matter, but never to both together.” (Simondon, 2005a, p. 58).
Mechanology and the social, ethical and political dimensions of the study of
technology
The critique of the hylomorphic perspective is, as can be seen, not simply a matter of
ontogenesis and individuation. It reflects a political, ethical and epistemological framing
of reality related to how one understands the relations between humans, nature,
machines and culture. Likewise, in the beginning of his thesis on technical objects,
Simondon underlines the need to recognise these objects as human artefacts in the same
manner other objects are recognised, such as books and works of art. From this comes
his claim to reintroduce technical things ‘in the culture’, surpassing misoneistic and
tecnophobic approaches to technology.
“The opposition established between the cultural and the technical and between
man and machine is wrong and has no foundation. What underlies it is mere
ignorance or resentment. It uses a mask of facile humanism to blind us to a
reality that is full of human striving and rich in natural forces. This reality is the
world of technical objects, the mediators between man and nature.
Culture behaves towards the technical object much in the same way as a man
captured in primitive xenophobia behaves towards a stranger. This kind of
misoneism directed against machines does not so much represent a hatred of the
new as a refusal to come to terms with an unfamiliar reality. Now, however
strange this reality may be, it is still human, and a complete culture is one that
enables us to discover that this stranger is indeed human. Still, the machine is a
stranger to us; it is a stranger in which what is human is locked in, unrecognised,
materialised and enslaved, but human nonetheless. The most powerful cause of
alienation in the world of today is based on misunderstanding of the machine.”
(Simondon, 1989, pp. 9-10; 1980, p. 11).
Thus, the theoretical question that arises relates to acquainting the humanities with the
gestures and thoughts set down in the technical objects and their mechanisms. Rather
than conceptualising technology in a strictly pragmatic or fatalist way, Simondon
refuses both tecnophobic and positivistic approaches to technology, thereby rejecting
the broad alienation they imply."
However, this *alienation* is not just the political and economic one between men and the means of production identified by Karl Marx (Marx, 1986, p. 60). It is a rather extensive *psychophysical alienation* in the sense that segregation between humans and technical objects implies, first and foremost, an ignorance regarding *machines* and *technical things*, and this separation leads to their reduction to the status of pragmatic means to acquire power. In this technocratic perspective,
> “the machine is just a mean; the end is the conquest of nature, the domestication of natural forces by means of an initial servitude: the machine is a slave that serves to make other slaves. (…) But it is hard to free yourself by transferring slavery to other beings, men, animals or machines; to reign over a population of machines is still to reign, and every reign supposes the acceptation of schemes of servitude” (Simondon, 1989, p. 127).
**Regarding Alienation**
> “Man’s alienation in relation to the machine has not only a social and economic sense; it has also a psycho-physiological one; the machine does not extend anymore the body scheme, neither for the workers, nor for those that possess the machines. The bankers whose social role was exalted by the Saint-Simonian mathematicians and Auguste Comte are as alienated in relation to the machines as the members of the new proletariat.” (Simondon, 1989, p. 118).
> “But it is true that the economic conditions amplify and establish this alienation: the technical object does not belong to the men that use them in the industrial life. The relation of propriety is, nevertheless, too abstract, and it would not suffice that workers become the owners of machines to reduce abruptly the alienation; to possess a machine is not to know it. (…) We would need to discover a social and economic mode in which, the individual that uses the technical object would not only be the owner of this machine, but also the man that chooses and nurtures it.” (Simondon, 1989, pp. 251-252).
While the first part of *Du Mode d’existence of technical objects* exposes the general Simondonian concepts regarding the specificity of *technical elements* (i.e. infra-individual technical objects), *technical objects* and *technical ensembles*, the second part of this work, which addresses the relationship between technical objects and men, and the courses on *invention* (Simondon, 2005b) and *perception* (Simondon, 2006) expose ideas that are of interest to bring this philosophical framework closer to contemporary sound studies and practices. Simondon develops the theoretical notion of the machine as a dynamic and interactive repository where human thoughts, memories and gestures are translated and registered in the serial memory of gears or other mechanical processes that can be actualised when the technical object is set in motion.
This global perspective leads Simondon to propose *mechanology* as a science that, parallel to the study of single technical elements (i.e. *technology*), would be directed to the study of the *individual technical objects*.
> “Infra-individual technical objects can be called technical elements. They differ from true individuals in the sense that they have no associated milieu. They can be integrated into an individual. A hot-cathode tube is more a technical element than a complete technical individual. It can be compared to an organ in a living body. In this sense, it would be possible to define a new science of general
organology. This science would involve the study of technical objects at the level of the element. It would be part of the science of technology, including mechanology, whose subject of study would be complete technical individuals” (Simondon, 1989, pp. 64-65; 1980, p. 56).
Human-machine coupling
The relationship between humans and machines essentially comprises a coupling relation. While this interaction is characterised by the physical and gestural coupling that takes place when humans use tools, e.g. shovels and levers, there is also a cognitive or psychological dimension in this relation, i.e. the coupling of memories.
“Machines could not store shapes, but only their codification in series – such as the gears’ teeth, the bits in a digital computer or, in analogical surfaces, the magnetization variation along an electroacoustic tape or the groove curves of a vinyl disk.” (Velloso, 2013, p. 125).
On the other hand, humans can retain the overall shape in memory but are not as capable as machines to store a large amount of data in a given series. The coupling between these two kinds of memories (and the related physical and gestural operations) thus depends on a sort of common coding. The ‘good’ coupling between these two different memories happens
“from the moment in which it is possible to achieve a partial convertibility between them, so that a synergy becomes possible. (…) There is coupling when a single and complete function is fulfilled by the two beings”(Simondon, 1989, p. 124).
According to Simondon, alienation occurs when this function is compromised somehow, i.e. not only when it is interrupted or unachievable given specific or contingent circumstances, but also when it is disturbed: when the technical interaction of human beings does not imply a meaningful translation of the gestures, thoughts and procedures registered and encoded in the machine mechanisms.
If the coupling of humans and machines presupposes the translation of what is encoded in the mechanisms of technical objects to human memory, the process of human-machine coupling depends on the meaningful fulfilment of a ‘single and complete function’ and imposes further challenges to this process. In concrete terms, a long chain of technical mediation between a human being and the technical operation that interposes the translation between these two memories is established. Therefore, increasing effort is required to understand the technical elements and mechanisms that take part in the machine’s operation. If it is true that such a task is nearly utopic in the concrete coupling between humans and most technical objects of our time, this synergy can be sought in different levels to establish the relationship between humans and machines that Simondon endorses.
It is especially relevant to think about activities, such as those we are accustomed to undertaking in sound practices and studies, that presuppose human-machine interactions in various processes, such as creation and invention. According to this perspective, to be able to establish a meaningful coupling with machines in contexts that imply creation/invention is to be able to ‘make your mind operate as a machine would operate’
and, conversely, to understand the machine operations and mechanisms as the mechanical reproduction of human ideas and gestures.
“The machine is a deposited human gesture, fixed, transformed into stereotype and power of resumption. (...) Between the man that invents and the machine that operates there is a relationship of isodynamism, more fundamental than the one that Form psychologists had imagined to explain perception by naming it isomorphism. The relationship of analogy between machine and man is not at the level of the corporal operations; (...) the real analogous relationship is between man’s mental operations and the physical operations of the machine. These two operations [fonctionnements] are parallel not in ordinary life, but in invention. To invent is to make your mind operate as a machine would operate, not according to causalities, too fragmentary, nor in accordance to the goal, too unitary, but in accordance to the dynamism of an operation that was lived, captured, because it was produced, witnessed in its genesis. The machine is a functioning being. Its mechanisms concretise a coherent dynamism that once existed in thought. Thought’s dynamism, while the invention occurred, was converted in functioning forms. Conversely, the machine, while it operates, produces or goes through a number of variations around the fundamental rhythms of its operation as they result from its defined forms. It is these variations which are meaningful, and they are meaningful with respect to the archetype of operation that is thought in the process of invention. One has to have invented or reinvented the machine so that the operation variations of the machine become information.” (Simondon, 1989, pp. 138-139).
In an optimal coupling between humans and technical objects, the operation one tackles while interacting with a machine involves the ability to recognize, decode and interpret human gestures and thoughts captured and registered in its operating mechanisms at the moment of invention. To invent, on other hand, consists of being able to formulate the isodynamic analogy that enables the inventor to inscribe in gears, programs or any kind of dynamic technical process his thoughts and gestures. Finally, to operate or use a machine is, ideally, to understand how the input gestures that control the mechanism modulate the actions of the human-technical couple and make the whole engine work.
**Technical methods – instruments/tools (appareils/ustensile), machine-tools/machines, and networks**
While the ideas presented in the two books summarised above allow us to glimpse a potential impact of Simondon’s thought in practices and studies, it is worth presenting a further categorisation that Simondon undertook to understand the specific particularities of certain types of technical operations with specific technical objects.
In his 1968 lecture *L’Invention et le développement des techniques* (2005b), Simondon establishes five different technical stages to understand technology and technical objects and their relation to human activities. These stages correspond to: (1) the technical method; (2) the tool and the instrument; (3) the apparatus and the utensil; (4) the machine-tool and the machine; (5) and the network. While the differentiation between these stages is interesting relative to anthropological theory of technological development, it is mainly relevant because it enables us to think about specific technological operations and objects, as well as the overall characteristics implied when we use certain tools, instruments and other technical objects when dealing with sounds and music.
The first technical stage, i.e. the technical method, is characterised by Simondon as the pre-instrumental technique. The technical method’s main characteristic relies on the massive, synchronic and fractionalised execution of a given task by a group of individuals with essentially no tools, instruments and technical objects. This process occurs in human work (as in the primitive techniques of construction and material transportation) and in animal behaviour (as in the coordination of the individual activities of bees and termites) (Simondon, 2005b, p. 87).
The second technical stage replaces the synchronic, fractionalised and massive unmediated execution of a task by more individualised and mediated work with tools and instruments. At this point, Simondon makes a conceptual distinction between tools and instruments. While tools are prosthetic regarding the actuation of the living being in the world, the main function of instruments is to mediate our sense organs.
Both tools and instruments have three main functions, i.e. extension, transformation and isolation. Drumsticks, violin bows and guitar plectrums are examples of tools that undertake those functions in actuation through musical instruments, which, according to this terminology, we could refer to as musical tools. On the other hand, microphones, noise cancelling headphones and earplugs are examples of instruments that extend, transform and isolate our auditory senses in specific situations, respectively.
Of course, this categorisation is schematic and does not intend to individualise functions or segregate instruments and tools as necessarily distinct technical objects. A single tool or instrument typically performs multiple functions by extending, transforming and isolating our interaction with the world. Likewise, technical objects usually act as both instruments and tools. This integration of functions can be illustrated easily by a walking stick that, as a tool, extends our hands and arms to ‘reach’ the floor and support the body and, at the same time, is used to extend, transform and isolate the sense of touch, thereby allowing one to feel the floor characteristics through the walking stick.
The third technical stage is qualified by the introduction of apparatus [appareils] and utensils [ustensiles], which reveal the coupling of tools and instruments to a mechanic nucleus that modulates the relationship between inputs and outputs.
“The second technical revolution is the detachment of the technical object from the operator’s organism: the instrument works as an input to the apparatus; the tool works as an output; the apparatus is thus the central point, the mediator of this coaptation between an instrument and a tool through a source of energy, that makes the machine. One could say, therefore, that the machine is constituted by the process of individuation in which the center is the utensil, plus the apparatus, node of the relation, entrance of the auto-correlation and starting point of the independence from the human organism that acts as holder and as a draft, since the instruments and tools that were created for the operator organism can be brought to the machine at the expense of adaptive modifications; in a fractionalised fashion, the organism is thus as a model, as an archetype, to the main sensor and actuator organs of the machine; but it takes a third reality, that of the utensil and the apparatus, to operate, apart from man, the connection between sensors and actuators.” (Simondon, 2005b, p. 95).
The fourth stage consists of the *machine-tool* and the *machine*. Both the machine and machine-tool are built around a ‘central system of correlation that may be a *modulable* source of energy or a device as a gear’. Both have their own energy source to produce work and to correlate sensors and actuators. If *machine-tools* must be operated by humans, they tend to be more and more autonomous regarding human gestures and operation. As *modulators* of human gestures, these objects require a very feeble ‘source of input (control) to govern the work transformation (on actuators) from the energy borrowed from an external source (animals, water flow, wind, combustion)’ (Simondon, 2005b, p. 97). The *machine* takes this particularity to the extreme, and it is so autonomous relative to human operators that the latter assume the role of observers or sentinels that guard and maintain the machine.
The last stage corresponds to technical networks, in which each machine is an autonomous core that intercommunicates with other machines through receptors and actuators..
“The basic characteristic of the network is the virtual presence of all possibilities of the central organism in every terminal, either in the transmission or in the reception.” (Simondon, 2005a, p. 100).
**Conclusion: towards a solfège of technical objects**
Since Pierre Schaeffer’s *solfège* (Schaeffer, 1966) and other subsequent and important theoretical contributions to the field of electroacoustic music, such as David Smalley’s *spectromorphology* and *spatiomorphology* (Smalley, 1997; Smalley, 2007) or Leigh Landy’s *sound-based music* theorisation (Landy, 2007), a large part of the theoretical enterprises on sound arts and studies have addressed *sound* primarily as a *phenomenon*. With different tools, they address *sounds*’ spectral, psychophysiological or qualitative features, describing their different characteristics that can be perceived, analysed or manipulated with the aid of recordings, sonograms and other technological tools. While these theoretical frameworks resulted in invaluable concepts and strategies to produce, categorise, scrutinise and understand *sounds* in different contexts by bringing together a series of interdisciplinary resources from several fields, such as psychoacoustics, phenomenology and structural linguistics, it can be said that the consideration of technical tools and technological mediation processes are primarily contingent on these works.
Even if Simondon does not directly address sound practices and music in his works, his ideas regarding *individuation* and *technology* can lead us to reconsider technology mediation in sound practices and studies. First, while processes such as sound production, transformation and perception are not easily explained in terms of the *hylomorphic* schema of form/matter coupling without losing their dynamic and concrete dimension, they can be fruitfully addressed in terms of *individuation, information, transduction* and *dephasing*. Sound production and perception are by nature dynamic processes that rely on the propagation of an energy to produce dynamic structures (*information*) that acquire and retain their individuality as long as they preserve a clear boundary (*different phase*) and independency (*phase difference*) in relation to the surrounding sound environment. From a Simondonian perspective, we could think in terms of *individual sounds* (or sounds ‘in process of *individuation*’) rather than *sonic objects*. Second, the very *technical objects* and *technical chains* that mediate our sound production, perception and manipulation processes acquire, from this perspective, a concrete anthropological relevance and a social, cultural and political dimension. These
tools and their mediation processes determine what we listen to and how we listen, what and how we analyse/theorise, and what and how we create and perform. In the same way that technological acquisition and subsequent refinement of music notation have deeply changed music production, reception and theorisation over the centuries, the technical objects and processes related to sound arts, practices and studies have created specific modes of listening, studying and creating sounds that rely on how we engage these tools and techniques, how we attach our bodies and minds to them while dealing with sounds and even how we invent or reinvent these tools.
This article does not attempt to establish some sort of theoretical programme or present a methodological framework to be applied to the interpretation, invention and reinvention of techniques and technical objects in the immense variety of contemporary sound practices. Nevertheless, the Simondonian theoretical work presents worthwhile ideas and an equally valuable ethical perspective regarding the auditory and creative activities that imply the use of technical means, as well as those that presuppose their invention and adaptation to new enterprises.
If many theories and concepts derived from Schaeffer’s connotation of the term solfège have enriched how we think about sound and the sound-related creative, analytical and theoretical dimensions, it is possible to postulate a solfège that happens through technical beings and is also directed at these very technical beings. This does not imply that sound particularities are to be ignored or relegated to a second plane, but rather that we should bear in mind their technological dimension. The sonic object, the spectromorphologically analysed sound or even the ephemeral live-electronics’ ‘real-time electronic sounds’ produced in interactive contexts are the sounding trails of technological processes, tools, instruments, machines and mediations. These technical resources involve the historical acquisition and accumulation of stereotyped gestures and thoughts and of modes of listening and making sounds. In Schaefferian terms, we could say that they embody themes and versions.
Pragmatically speaking, despite any theoretical and philosophical justification, Schaefferian concepts and practices, such as reduced listening and acousmatic music, are likely to rely more on the ancient circular movement of the gramophone, on the corresponding form of the disc recording, which, according to Adorno (1990, p. 59), can be traced back to the automated organs, and on the latent technical possibility to ‘freeze’ sound in loops by manipulating technical objects, such as the lathe, turntable and a disc with locked grooves, than on the Husserl concept of epoché. This is not to say that these and other concepts (such as those that Schaeffer borrows from linguistics) are not important to his theory and interpretation of sound practices. On the contrary, they proved to be valuable conceptual tools to understand, a posteriori, the new sounding phenomena that Schaeffer was only able to listen to, contemplate and manipulate from the moment at which his human senses and organs could be prosthetically extended to enable him to listen to and handle these phenomena as individual sounds.
Today, with computational technologies that were practically unthinkable a few decades ago, even when Simondon and Schaeffer wrote about technology a few decades ago, it has become possible to reconsider, once again, the solfège, which is an outdated term that, nevertheless, can conceptually gather different practices and activities related to our interactions with sounds and music. For example, we witness the ordinary application of technologies that massively compute and process a large number of sounds to perform the automatic recognition of features through music information retrieval and machine listening techniques. The retrieved information is analysed using
complex tools, e.g. **machine learning** and **cloud computing strategies**, to accomplish heterogeneous tasks, such as song recommendation systems, recognising and locating screams or gunshots in urban soundscapes and structuring complex surveillance systems that imperceptibly monitor the sounds we produce and listen to.
In this context, the **solfège** of technical objects, i.e. the wide range of processes that encompass understanding and interpreting thoughts and gestures set down in technical objects and their coupling in our sound-related activities, such as listening, performing and creating, may have theoretical and artistic reverberations relative to how we deal with sounds. It could also have political and ethical consequences for practices that refuse, borrowing Simondon’s expression, ‘any scheme of servitude’.
**Footnotes**
1. According to Simondon, the technical object is not merely an instrument or ustensile, but the end-product of a technical activity and its evolution (Simondon, 1989, p. 15; Simondon, 2009, p. 19).
2. The creation of a sound loop by making a circular groove in a recording disc (sillon fermé) and transforming a bell sound by removing its attack and then repeating loops of this ‘cut bell’ fragment to create a flute-like sound (cloche coupée) are considered the two inaugural experiments of the musique concrète (Chion, 1983, p. 18; Schaeffer, 1966, p. 417).
3. The term ‘allagmatic’ comes from Greek ἀλλαγή, which means ‘change’ or ‘differentiation’.
4. The pragmatic dimension of tools [Zeuge] can be seen when Heidegger stresses the ‘wozu’ (what-for) and the ‘um zu’ (for-something) dimensions of instruments (Heidegger, 1967, p. 70). On the other hand, the fatalistic apprehension of modern technology is the guideline of Die Frage nach der Technik (Heidegger, 2002).
**References**
Acknowledgements
CNPq / FAEPEX-Unicamp
Biography
José Henrique Padovani is Professor at the Music School of the Federal University of Minas Gerais. He also teaches at the Music Graduate Program of the Arts Institute of the State University of Campinas and is an associate researcher at the Interdisciplinary Nucleus of Sound Communication at the State University of Campinas. As a composer, professor, and researcher, his activities focus on the interdisciplinary practices and investigations linked to the relationship among creative processes, music analysis, computer music, technology, and sound studies. |
2.1 Spatial Construct of the City
2.2 Dissecting the Site Context
2.3 The Cultural Condition in Pretoria
2.4 The South African State Theatre
2.4.1 The State Theatre Shift to Production House
2.4.2 Application of the State Theatre into the Project
2.5 The Contextual Built Fabric
2.6 Statement of Heritage Significance
2.6.1 Development Approach
2.7 SWOT Analysis
2.8 User Profile
0.2 Context
This chapter explores approaches to space making within an African context. It defines the approach that should be taken in terms of intervention in an existing context and amplifying the positive traits inherent to the site.
2.1 Spatial Construct of the City
The Micro Contextual Analysis shows the spatial construct of the existing city fabric (seen in Fig. 18 & 19). The findings show Helen Joseph Street as the main activity corridor and major pedestrian movement corridor with its natural green strip running on both sides of the street. The major pedestrian routes are linked with the taxi rank and BRT routes which pass the site. The Appies river Forms a natural boundary condition and shapes the the grid of the city blocks.
The Micro Contextual Analysis plan shows the proposed site and its strong connection points to the public realm and surrounding context. The group members' sites are also shown with the contextual findings overlayed.
The south-eastern quadrant of Central Pretoria was established as the business district from early stages of Pretoria's establishment. In 1882 the market that was originally located on Church Square, which was the heart of state, church, social and trade activities, was moved east to where the State Theatre and Lilian Ngoyi square is currently located (Jordaan 1992, 47).
Similar to the rest of Pretoria, the CBD's street layout was based on a square grid pattern, but the east-west grid was modified to become rectangular, because of the natural boundaries of the Apies River and following the direction of the surrounding hills (as seen in Fig. 20). This modification to the blocks caused the development of alleys and midblock connections running north to south, which later became established as unique arcades (see example, Polley's Arcade Fig. 21) forming networks of arcades extending through and connecting the city blocks and making it inclusive to pedestrian movement (Jordaan 1992, 48).
2.2 Dissecting the Site Context
FIGURE 22 - 3D IMAGE SHOWING PROPOSED SITE AND VIEWPOINTS OF QUALITY OF SPACES (AUTHOR 2015)
The south-eastern quadrant of the CBD is the part of the city that developed the fastest. This quick development caused left over parts of yesterday’s city, which caused various city blocks including the proposed block and site to have a rough grain. This also presently causes a large number of buildings to stand vacant and underutilised. This affects the continuity of the street façade as well as the urban texture of the city. The outside of all the buildings is in essence the inside of the city, where the building as well as it’s ensemble that creates the city spaces which are of equal importance with the built fabric (Jordaan 1992, 47).
Helen Joseph Street (Church) has the strongest contextual links, being connected with Church Square, which is the most prominent and symbolically important open space in Pretoria. The square is strategically placed within the grid layout which was established by the Paul Kruger and Church Street axes of the city.
The spatial quality of Church Street along the portion of the proposed city block is influenced by the interfaces, public façades, rhythms, spatial progression as well as visual orientation of the street. For the most part, this street section (seen in Fig. 23), shows an intimate character with its cantilevered public roofs which creates a street level interface overhanging the sidewalks. The public roofs scale the buildings along the street down to a human scale and correspond to the smaller intimate scale of the double storey buildings on the street.
The wide streets allow a horizontal transition between the scale of the Reserve Bank on the opposite block and the smaller scale 2 - 6 storey buildings on the proposed city block and site. This also allows space on the sidewalk for trees to grow, forming part of the unique character of the street. However, the spatial progression, street character and façade articulation reads as being broken, due to the lack of public roofs on all the buildings to cover the sidewalk (as seen on Fig. 24 & 25) (Jordaan 1992, 49).
The narrow alleyways leading into the site are only really noticed from the opposite sidewalk, as they are less obvious when walking underneath the public street roof on the same side of the street, due to the user’s perspective and visual orientation of the street, as shown in (Fig. 24 & 25).
**FIGURE 24 - [View 1] HELEN JOSEPH STREET ELEVATION (AUTHOR 2015)**
**FIGURE 25 - [View 2] PERPSECTIVE OF SITE STREET FACADE ON HELEN JOSEPH STREET (AUTHOR 2015)**
From Fig. 26 as seen when walking along the sidewalk underneath the public roof, the two narrow entrance alleyways leading to the site appear completely hidden and go largely unnoticed by the public. This inconspicuousness is part of the reason why the site and its introverted courtyards are concealed from the public realm.
Inside the courtyard space one can clearly see the introverted quality of the space, seen in Fig. 27. The Reserve Bank and Prinschurch buildings also tower over the site, dominating it. The courtyard is completely disconnected from the public realm and the rest of the city, with no sense of being part of the city. The buildings forming the courtyard have their backs turned onto the courtyard, with little or no windows opening onto the site. However, the hidden and indeterminate characteristics of the site forms part of what makes the site unique. The spaces could depict points of emergence - not into the city but emergence into somewhere else. A potential portal that offer the chance to glimpse the “other” spaces of the city.
The “Sheds” spill out courtyard, (Fig. 28) forms a repose space that shows a strong memory of the past, with traces left in the runes and natural elements growing out of the cracks. The landscape shows that the buildings have, over time, been somewhat overrun by natural vegetal growth and a patina of weathered industrial materials softens the rough environment on site.
The “Sheds” parking courtyard, (Fig. 29) is formed by hotels and apartment blocks that have their unresponsive rear elevations turned to the courtyard. This courtyard is also part of the spill out space during events and happenings that occur here on weekends.
The analysis of the existing edge conditions show multiple introverted courtyards that are disconnected by boundary conditions or inaccessible and hidden to the public realm, see (Fig. 30).
The Site Figure Ground, studies the existing buildings and spatial conditions on site. The study found three existing typologies on site, the Public Street Roof situated on the peripheries of the block forming an unique edge condition, The Permanent Structure that allow movement through them (lifted off the ground or having a opening for thoroughfare), Solid Existing Structures which forms the hidden introverted courtyard condition on site.
### 2.3 The Cultural Condition in Pretoria
The former Market Square (Fig. 31) was developed into the South African State Theatre, with Strijdom Square adjacent to it to the west. Strijdom Square was later renamed Lilian Ngoyi Square and as part of the Tshwane 2055 Urban Vision a new Women's Living Memorial Centre is being built on the square (Seen in Fig. 32). This intervention neglects the historic past of the square and has a strong commercial focus, much like Times Square, New York. The State Theatre has its own square and parkade entrances which are not orientated toward Lilian Ngoyi Square. The SAST building reads as disconnected and incoherent from Lilian Ngoyi Square, with the square facing its service wall. The focus of Lilian Ngoyi Square becomes less about the people using it and the rejuvenation of the city, but rather a contestation against the previous political regime and a driver for a political agenda.
Pretoria had plenty of cultural activities on offer like the Jakaranda festival and dancing in the City Hall, in the days before the State Theatre was established (seen in Fig. 33). Cinemas and coffee bars were widely accessible and readily available and one was able to walk or ride a bicycle to your destination, continuously interacting with the city (Naudé 1992 43).
Pretoria has since become a seven to five culture, with the streets running empty after dark, resulting in the cultural activities and night-life of the CBD to die down. Only the occasional show at the State Theatre breaks the dearth of night-time activity local to the site, but that doesn’t improve the vibrancy of the area or rejuvenate the CBD. This is due to the building’s “exothermic” nature, meaning the building takes “energy” from the city, but does not interact with the city or allow people to spill out back into the streets. Due to the Theatre’s monolithic design and three of its facades being impervious, it is disconnected from the rest of the city. Visitors to the SAST often arrive by car, entering and leaving the theatre from the basement parkade, not being able to interact with the surrounding city context.
FIGURE 33 - OLD MARKET HALL USED AS DANCE HALL AND SOCIAL GATHERING SPACE (PRETORIANA)
2.4 The South African State Theatre
South African State Theatre: Church Street 301 & Pretorius Street 310 ERF 2909/R:
Architects: Botha, Lotter & Associates; Daneel, Smit & Associates
The construction of the South African State Theatre (SAST) in the capital city, commenced after the Old Market Hall was demolished in 1970; the SAST complex opened its doors on May 1981. The main structure of the complex consists of concrete columns and beams, flat roofs and balconies with large overhangs on the north façade (seen in Fig. 34). Three concrete towers break through the flat roofs with the F.H. Odendaal Administration block forming the highest point in the complex at 42m. The building has seven basement parking levels taking up the entire city block. The theatre complex consists of six theatres, a number of foyers, private function rooms, rehearsal studios and restaurants (seen in the section in Fig. 35). The building style shows traits of the Japanese metabolism, like the work of Architect Kenzo Tange.
The SAST complex was seen as a great milestone and the driving force behind theatre in South Africa, promoting all aspects of cultural life and the performing arts in the capital and the rest of the country. In 2000 the theatre re-established itself from production house, re-opening its doors as a receiving house. According to Mr Gert Viljoen, the technical director of the State Theatre, this sudden change was due to a lack of funding which resulted in the production house in the basement level being downscaled to a theatre. The production house included steel, fibreglass and timber workshops. Today only the timber workshop remains for renting purposes.
The Theatre contributes to the development of the performing arts, and the variety of entertainment modalities found in the country's diverse cultures. The main revenue of SAST was generated through hiring out the venues and parking space to urban users. At this time the State Theatre is augmenting a grant from the DAC, with aims to include more self-generating income by providing new rental opportunities. This is done through the upgrading of restaurants, canteen and new gift shop to enhance the overall theatre experience for the staff and visitors. (State Theatre Annual Report 2013/14 2014:[S.p.]).
The SAST's capacity remains a concern, with the financial year ending with 29 vacancies reported, many of which were unfunded. Intensifying this is the lack of skills across the entity. In an effort to address these issues, the SAST is realigning and increasing the 2014/15 training budget allowing specific training and career development (State Theatre Annual Report 2013/14 2014:[S.p.]).
2.4.1 The State Theatre Shifts to Production House
New for this year, a shift is being made in contributing to the creation of new theatre productions once again. The SAST presented 35 internal productions across 5 genres which attracted 56,192 patrons and exceeded their audience target for 2013/14. The yearly performances were exceeded with 474 performances. Their ongoing Rendezvous programme contributed to the creation of short-term job opportunities in the performing arts sector, with 1,615 jobs created against its 708 target (State Theatre Annual Report 2013/14, 2014:[S.p.]).
The Momentum Independence Programme (MIP) focuses on independent producers, which stirred up the overall artistic programme, also providing development opportunities for young people who want to work in theatre. The vision of the internship programme is to develop professional stage crew that is commercially competitive. The MIP also focuses on presenting local content produced by young emerging artists, contributing to the development of these writers and directors, and intends on fully developing their productions. This is done to inspire confidence in the young emerging artists and Tshwane community, which promotes the Performing Arts Sector by integrating socio-economic development and cultural diversity that, ultimately, contributes to the SAST. (State Theatre Annual Report 2013/14, 2014:[S.p.]).
2.4.2 Application of the State Theatre into the Project
The State Theatre Annual Report highlighted some problems within the SAST, mainly that the capacity of the SAST to expand is a concern, which is intensified by the lack of skill across the entity. The dissertation proposes that the project programme becomes a “Back of House” for the SAST, providing a testing ground to create novel shows; developing a platform for learning to improve the overall skill levels and possible job creation within the SAST; and to introduce theatre to a larger demographic, with the vision to attract more everyday users as audience to the theatre. The programme forms a stepping stone to revitalise the State Theatre and incorporate community participation in the shows; the shows with the most public votes gets performed in the State Theatre.
The State Theatre developmental framework and the Momentum Independence Programme can be utilised as part of the social agenda to develop theatre and cultural practices in Pretoria, contributing to cultural diversity and socio-economic development. The incentive is that the SAST can contribute to the creation of new theatre productions, re-establishing itself as a production house once again, with the vision to generate the economic renewal and development of the Theatre. The indeterminate nature of the site and urban spaces presents an opportunity for a new type of theatre to work within the public realm. One where the internal condition of the theatre is opened to the exterior elements and activities, unlike the traditional theatre design, such as the State Theatre, which is thick skinned and does not interact with the surrounding context. The challenge will be to explore ways of activating the edge conditions of the site to deliver experience to the public everyday users and form social functions that draw the everyday user into the site.
2.5 The Contextual Built Fabric:
An analysis was done on the buildings in the context, to gain a better understanding of the built fabric. (Fig. 36 shows a 3D view of the site and its context, as well as the buildings analysed in consecutive order.)
1. Sammy Marks Square: Erf 3357
Sammy Marks Square (seen in Fig. 37) is a red facebrick, five storey high shopping centre constructed in 1990, which consists of retail on the ground floor, with the rest of the floors consisting of restaurants, municipality offices, a library, cinema, clinic, conference centre and catering facilities with basement parking for 1500 cars.
The centre was aimed at making the area “friendlier and more attractive”. There were also plans of constructing a hotel directly adjacent to Sammy Marks Square next to the Reserve Bank. The structure and reinforcing was erected, but it was never completed. The Lewis and Marks building shares the site with Sammy Marks Square, separated by a steel structured walkway with a polycarbonate roof cover. The materials used are red facebrick, green corrugated iron roofs.
2. Lewis + Marks: 322-330 Church Street, Erf 3357
The Lewis and Marks building (seen in Fig. 38) is a three storey office building, internally divided into 7 units. Units are divided with parapet walls, each having its own corrugated iron roof. The ground floor contains retail space with large glazed shopfronts, while the upper floors house offices. The building was designed in 1903 by W.J. de Zwaan in the style of Amsterdam “gragtehuise”. The main materials used are facebrick in English bond with corrugated iron roofs.
3. South African State Theatre: 301 Church Street & 310 Pretorius Street, Erf 2909/R
Architects: Botha, Lotter & Associates; Daneel, Smit & Associates
The South African State Theatre was previously mentioned, see (2.3). (Fig. 39)
Architects: Oscar Hurwitz, Murray & Pokroy.
Architectural influence: Brutalism/Modern movement. The building is a multi-storey concrete column and beam construction with glass infill panels, while the exterior is clad with light grey tiles. The ground floor level of building is allocated for retail, with three parkade levels above onto a podium level, all levels above that is currently used for office space (Fig. 40).
5. The Karps Building: 2/384 Church Street, Erf 2731 - is a typical 1920's - 1930's Utilitarian Pretoria Municipality design. Karps building architect Lodge Clement Scarr, first became assistant architect at ISCOR during the Second World War. In the post-war period he took charge of design at the Pretoria Municipality, and became the chairman of the United Building Society in Pretoria in 1945. The Karps building was used as a bakery, but currently stands vacant (seen in Fig. 41). The building has profiled eaves, which is typical of the pre-Second World War era, with yellow and red two tone key brick corners in facebrick; English bond brick work; lining up of perps; and soldier course gable strip detail. The windows are steel horizontal pivoting windows. Although the building is not a significant or unique example of industrial heritage building, it does, however, fall within the SAHRA ACT 25 of 1999 category of structures that are older than 60 years (SAHRA 1999). Therefore the building should be documented and can be adaptively reused.
6. The Sheds: 386 Church Street, Erf 3081 - is a typical 1920's - 1930's Utilitarian Pretoria Municipality design. The Sheds has the stylistic characteristics of the designs of the architect, Lodge Clement Scarr, from the design department at the Pretoria Municipality (seen on Fig. 42). The Sheds building is speculated to have been built within the WWII period, because of the structure throughout, which seems to be comprised of light-weight steel sections bolted together to create larger profiles. This suggests it may have been constructed in a time of steel shortages - i.e. WWII. The column needs a large surface connection to receive all the trusses and girders that intersect there, so timber was probably used as a sacrificial cheap spacer and stiffener while it was put together. The Sheds building’s walls consist of English bond facebrick; red facebrick key bricks; is characterised by lining up of perps; and a soldier course gable strip detail. The windows are steel horizontal pivoting windows. The building’s technological use of timber and steel is a unique and significant feature and should be maintained. The building has some significant features and though it is not a unique example of an industrial heritage building, the building does, however, fall within the SAHRA ACT 25 of 1999 category of structures that are older than 60 years (SAHRA 1999). Therefore, the building should be documented and can be adaptively reused.
Market@theSheds by Capital Collective.
Every weekend local talent is showcased at the Market@theSheds (seen Fig. 43, presenting their own flavour of art, food and design. This is a private initiative by Capital Collective, aiming to enhance participation & cooperation between public and private sectors, to rejuvenate and accelerate the growth of Pretoria's CBD. The Sheds adds a unique feel and offering, only found in the Capital, but follows a similar model as the Neighbourgoods market in Johannesburg and the Biscuit Mill in Cape Town.
Market@theSheds was initiated on October 2014, in an old warehouse structure in Pretoria's CBD nicknamed “The Sheds” (seen in Fig. 43 & 44). The pop-up market held in “The Sheds” occurs every weekend, with between 50 and 60 stands - with a pop-up art exhibition and an open stage where local artists create a laid-back, acoustic, jazzy atmosphere - showcases the inner city's beautiful introverted buildings, previously lost to the public realm. Delightful gourmet food, craft beers, ciders, wine and cocktails are on offer and shoppers enjoy design, fashion and art to browse, but the vibe at the market is the biggest draw card: an African urban experience, a true celebration of the people of Pretoria. The market aims to provide a platform of support for young emerging artists to gain exposure and showcase their talents (Capital Collective:[S.p.]).
7. Reserve Bank: 370 Church Street, Erf 3271
The Reserve Bank is an office block with 37 storeys with a podium and several basement floors (seen in Fig. 45). The Reserve Bank gardens is a private fenced-off green space surrounding the Reserve Bank, with a large water feature in front of it. The building finishes used are black granite cladding and reflective glass.
8. Orpheum Mansions: 219 Du Toit Street, Erf 388/l - Commercial & Student Apartments.
The five storey apartment building has a flat roof. The street wall is made of facebrick with plastered and painted projecting balconies (later enclosed). The north corner balconies are not enclosed like the others. The lintols above the steel windows and other openings are plastered and painted. Marble panels are used on the ground floor and entrance foyer on the south side, with the large shopfront windows deeply set back under cover of the public street verandah (seen in Fig. 46). The building is in poor condition. The building's value lies with the group of buildings it is connected with, Eland House on the corner of the NHG building adjacent to Church Street. There are strong similarities in the material, details and style, and the buildings were possibly built together. All of the buildings show signs of simple functionality, slightly softened with traces of Art Deco details.
FIGURE 45 - RESERVE BANK 370 CHURCH STR. (AUTHOR 2015)
FIGURE 46 - ORPHEUM MANSIONS - 219 DU TOIT STR. (WWW.GOOGLE STREETVIEW.COM)
9. Hotel Swiss Inn: 399 Church Street, C/O du Toit, Erf 388/R - Commercial & Student Apartments
This is a four storey corner building with its public street verandah over the full length of the sidewalks on both its street elevations (seen on Fig. 47). The roof is concealed behind a parapet wall. The wall above the street verandah is made of facebrick with steel windows framed by painted plaster bands. Shopfronts are placed on the ground floor. The building is in a fair condition. This corner building, together with the adjacent buildings forms a special urban group of buildings. The building needs attention, to bring back its true contextual qualities.
10. Eland House: 387 Church Street - Commercial & Student Apartments
The five storey apartment block has ground floor commercial shopfronts and residential accommodation on the upper floors (seen in Fig. 48). It has a slightly sloped flat roof, sloping away from the street, hidden behind a stepped parapet wall. The wall finish is facebrick with some walls plastered and painted, with long horizontal facebrick balconies which extend away from the facade. The steel windows are stepped back into the building to shade them from the direct sunlight. The entrance foyer is finished with paneled terrazzo. The apartments are reached from the south side entrance with circulation corridors connected with a staircase lobby. The parking area is on ground level east of the building, reached by a vehicular entrance running through under the building. Parts of the original timber shopfronts are in poor condition, but still repairable. The building can be categorised under the Pretoria International Style, with vague Art Deco characteristics. The building relates well with its neighbouring buildings as well as the NHG building on the opposite side of Church Street. This is a particularly simple architectural statement which adds to the street image, rather than glorifying itself.
11. Rezme 6: 381 Church Street - Commercial
Two storey building set back from the street between two projecting single storey wings, underneath a heavy tiled hip roof (shown in Fig. 49). The façade has changed drastically over the years, but still has the original columns on ground floor, plaster within the second storey window line, and the balcony between short columns, of which one has been built closed, still shows the original commercial and residential functions. The building is in a terrible condition. The typology is similar to the building on erf 2731/2, but interesting due to its unfamiliar symmetry and the roof being separated from the neighbouring buildings.
12. Karps: 373 Church Street, Erf 2731/2 - Commercial & Apartment
This is a three storey building with a roof concealed behind a parapet wall. The mid-brown facebrick wall on the first and second storey is built out to form three bay windows, with steel window frames. The windows of the top storey have been closed off due to the original function as apartments having being changed. The public street roof is supported on four square columns (seen in Fig. 50). Glazed timber doors lead to the apartment staircase. Some of glazed timber doors in the shopfront and other doors are still the originals, and need to be restored.
13. Mavarin: 361 Church Street, Erf 384/1 - Commercial
Double storey commercial building with apartments above the shops. Pitched steel roof between gable-ends and a balcony / public street roof on paired concrete Doric columns (seen in Fig. 51). Two bay windows which, like the eaves, are decorated with heavy mouldings, project out from the apartments onto the balcony. The walls are plastered and painted and the original shopfronts were replaced. The entrance door leading to the apartments on the first floor was also replaced with new a glazed door. All the windows and doors on the first storey are steel. The building is in a reasonable condition and needs to be documented as it's a typology that is vanishing in the city fabric of Pretoria.
FIGURE 51 - 361 MAVARIN ERF 384/1 CHURCH STR. (WWW.GOOGLESTREETVIEW.COM)
2.6 Statement of Heritage Significance
The site provides a unique opportunity to form the gateway for culture, design and production activities and associated facilities in order to establish a voice and identity within the culturally diverse Central quarter of Pretoria. The site can establish a crucial cultural link between Church Square, the Sammy Marks Precinct, South African State Theatre and the indeterminate city blocks towards the south-eastern part down Du Toit Street towards Nana Sita Street and Sunnyside. This cultural link, introduces an opportunity to revitalise these parts of Pretoria (as shown in the Diagram on Fig. 52).
The buildings within the precinct have the opportunity to form a catalyst for change that could start to mend the divide by forming the point of mediation between the CBD and the southern quadrant of Pretoria, providing a common ground for both areas to create a symbiotic relationship.
During the Urban exploration conducted in the Pretoria CBD, the findings showed a definite tension in the urban context of Pretoria between permanence and impermanence.
FIGURE 52 - DIAGRAM INDICATING CULTURAL LINK (AUTHOR, 2015)
1. Karps Building: Heritage Building - Adapt/ Re-appropriate
Karps Building, 2/384 Church Street, Erf 2731 - is a typical 1920’s – 1930’s Utilitarian Pretoria Municipality design.
Karps building architect, Lodge Clement Scarr, first became assistant architect at ISCOR during the Second World War. In the post-war period he took charge of design at the Pretoria Municipality, and became the chairman of the United Building Society in Pretoria in 1945.
The Karps building was used as a bakery, but currently stands vacant (seen in Fig. 53). The building has profiled eaves, which is typical of the pre-Second World War era, with yellow and red two tone key brick corners in facebrick; English bond brick work; lining up of perps; and Soldier course gable strip detail. The windows are steel horizontal pivoting windows (as show on Fig. 54 & 55). Although the building is not significant or a unique example of industrial heritage building it does, however, fall within the SAHRA ACT 25 of 1999 category of structures that are older than 60 years (SAHRA 1999). Therefore, the building should be documented and can be adaptively reused.
FIGURE 55 - KARPS BUILDING 2 - SIGNIFICANT FEATURES (AUTHOR, 2015)
2. Rezmep 6 “The Sheds”: Heritage Building - Adapt / Re-appropriate
Rezmep 6 “Sheds”, 386 Church Street, Erf 3081 - is a typical 1920’s - 1930’s Utilitarian Pretoria Municipality design.
The Sheds has the stylistic characteristics of the designs of the architect, Lodge Clement Scarr, from the design department at the Pretoria Municipality (seen in Fig. 56).
The Sheds building is speculated to have been built within the WWII period, because of the structure throughout, which is comprised of light-weight steel sections bolted together to create larger profiles. This suggests it may have been constructed in a time of steel shortages, i.e. WWII. The column needs a large surface connection to receive all the trusses and girders that intersect there, so timber was probably used as a sacrificial cheap spacer and stiffener while it was put together. The timber might also have acted as a fire retardant, but this was not the primary reason it was used (as shown in Fig. 57 - 58).
The Sheds building’s walls consist of English bond facebrick work; lining up of perps; and soldier course gable strip detail. The windows are steel horizontal pivoting windows. The building’s technological use of timber and steel is a unique and significant feature and should maintained.
The building has some significant features and though it is not a unique example of industrial heritage building, the building does, however, fall within the SAHRA ACT 25 of 1999 category of structures that are older than 60 years (SAHRA 1999). Therefore, the building should be documented and can be adaptively reused.
‘The Sheds’ Historic Tectonic Language
The roof structure is bolted light-weight steel sections used to create larger profiles which suggest it was constructed in a time of steel shortages - i.e. WWII.
Why Tectonic Language?
1. The timber might also have acted as a fire retardant, but this was not the primary reason it was used.
2. The Column needs a large surface connection to receive all the trusses and girders that intersect there so, timber was probably used as a sacrifice cheap spacer and stiffener while it was put together.
3. The roof structure is bolted light-weight steel sections used to create larger profiles which suggest it was constructed in a time of steel shortages - i.e. WWII.
‘The Sheds’ Significant Features
3. Karps: Heritage Building - Adapt / Re-appropriate
373 Church Street, Erf 2731/2 - Commercial & Apartment
This is a three storey building with a roof concealed behind a parapet wall. The yellowish red facebrick wall on the first and second storey is built out to form three bay windows, with steel window frames. The public street roof is supported on four square columns. Glazed timber doors lead to the apartment staircase (seen in Fig. 59). Some of the glazed timber doors in the shopfront and other doors are still the originals, and need to be restored. The building has some significant features and its stylistic features are in a reasonable condition and need to be documented, as it’s a typology vanishing in the city fabric of Pretoria (as shown in Fig. 53). The building also falls within the SAHRA ACT 25 of 1999 category of structures that are older than 60 years (SAHRA 1999). Therefore, the building should be documented and can be adaptively reused.
FIGURE 59 - KARPS 1 - HERITAGE BUILDING (AUTHOR, 2015)
FIGURE 60 - KARPS 1 SIGNIFICANT FEATURES (AUTHOR, 2015)
2.6.1 Design Premise and Intention
The investigation proposes that the indicated portion of the city block follow an “adapt and re-use” strategy that can amalgamate the programmatic requirements.
The Joint ICOMOS and TICCIH Charter informed the strategy, that physical interventions should be able to be reversible as much as possible (Joint ICOMOS - TICCIH 2011;[S.p.]).
With this in mind, through the process of matching a vacant permanent space with a temporary program, their interdependence becomes evident, resulting in an approach towards an interdependent beneficial symbiosis between the temporary and permanent. The building (host) will benefit the programmes (new) by providing shelter, safety and physical support. The temporary will benefit the permanent by giving it life, activity and opportunity to contribute to its local context.
The design focuses on creating layers of permanence and temporality dependent on each other with the strategy of juxtaposing the old and the new by working with linearity. All additions would be done with tectonic and modular components as it should be reversible. This juxtaposing of the tectonic nature in the old versus the new underlines the intangible heritage aspects of the site and continues to add to the palimpsest. As these layers are peeled away the space can be reinterpreted and adapted for other programmes at a future stage - embracing the dynamics of change in a resilient manner having a transformative capability, seeing not only what the buildings in the precinct were, but also what the space could become depending on contextual development and requirements.
The original buildings will be retained and stabilised according to the Burra charter. As much as possible needs to be retained; components removed will be reused in other areas of the scheme, so as to keep the original fabric of the buildings. New entrances puncturing the facade still respect the proportions of the bays and windows.
The architectural requirements:
• The buildings need to have low thresholds.
• Diverse layers.
• Bring energy into a space that can shift the people around it.
• Have a resilient design, creating something that can still change further at a later stage.
• An intervention is required that overlaps with the different networks within the CBD and the building significance.
• Create an anchor at multi-scale (high scale and low scale programmes).
Parts that add to the value of the building:
• The use of both low and high technological structure and materiality. For example, the way the roof structure was manufactured in the Sheds building allows the building to have large open spaces that contributes to the ease of adaption of the interiors of the building.
• The stylistic heritage features of the significant buildings in the scheme.
• Very few buildings on site are unique examples of local industrial heritage, although most of them fall within the SAHRA ACT 25 of 1999 category of structures that are older than 60 years (SAHRA 1999).
These buildings should be preserved in cases where they can positively contribute to or support the public realm in either their function, structure, services or their spatial relation that creates the unique character of the internal courtyard spaces. Due to the post-industrial buildings on site being re-appropriated for cultural and educational use, the approach should be one which can contribute to the transformation of fabric for public space and supporting infrastructure.
2.6.2 Development Approach
The aim is to reclaim public space from the existing indeterminate post-industrial site, hidden from public realm. The Intervention will reconfigure the existing fabric so as to support public life. The value of this area is the potential to re-establish and rejuvenate the CBD of Pretoria to an inclusive cultural/educational precinct.
The site provides a unique opportunity to form the gateway for culture, design and production activities and facilities to establish a voice and identity within the culturally diverse Central quarter of Pretoria.
The project accepts the introverted indeterminate condition on site, which is a problematic urban condition existing and ongoing in Pretoria as well as other cities.
From this stance the project aims to establish new pedestrian arcades through the site to create spaces for artistic experimentation and open transformation of public space allowing for equal access and equal representation with a high degree of social and cultural inclusion.
The existing buildings are useful in that they can be re-appropriated opposed to developing new buildings, reducing the cost implication for new programmes promoting new life into the old structures, thus encouraging growth through start-up initiatives and businesses, which should boost the community and vibrance within the CBD.
The Buildings within the precinct has the opportunity to form a catalyst for change that could start to mend the divide. The site can establish a crucial cultural link from Church Square, the Sammy Marks Precinct, South African State Theatre and the indeterminate city blocks to the South Eastern part down Du Toit Street towards Nana Sita Street and Sunny Side. This cultural link, introduces an opportunity to revitalize these parts of Pretoria. Reconnecting these blocks as a network of spaces will result in more vibrant mixed-use functions and activities that could function more interactively. An attractive environment could be established within these networks in which new economic, social and recreational activities could take place.
The SWOT analysis looks at the contextual Strengths, Opportunities, Weaknesses and Threats (seen on Fig. 61). This is done to inform the design process.
Strengths:
Situated along a major axis route.
In a high pedestrianised area, with a strong commercial presence.
Multiple functions with diverse social energies.
Along major transport route, with BRT taxi and bus stops all within walking distance from the site.
Situated next to the State Theatre (which is an iconic building and landmark in Pretoria).
Situated in an area with a great deal of available parking space on site within the Prinschurch complex, and the site adjacent to the Sheds, as well as offsite parking in the Sammy Marks Precinct and State Theatre Basement Parkades.
Opportunities:
Opposite State Theatre, so the intervention will work in association with the State Theatre.
Prime Position within the CBD.
Existing Buildings to re-appropriate.
Energy from surrounding functions
Weaknesses:
Introverted site with no access or pedestrian movement.
Lack of activity because of inactive interface to site.
Blocked off courtyard spaces and boundary conditions between erven within the proposed site which hinders movement and visual connection.
Level differences hinder accessibility to persons with disabilities.
Threats (Constraints):
Introverted condition relates to possible threats to safety (criminal activity).
Height of Reserve Bank and Prinschurch Building compared to the surrounding area can overshadow and “intimidate” an intervention.
Micro Climate caused by height of surrounding buildings is unfavourable.
FIGURE 61 - SWOT ANALYSIS OF URBAN CONTEXT (AUTHOR, 2015)
2.8 User Profile
1. Daily User:
Daily city users commute to work in offices, shops or other facilities, or are students who attend schools or colleges in the CBD area. These users form a large portion of the project as they become part of the everyday as subject matter for the theatre shows, and the project needs to cater for the activities of these users. These activities are accommodated in places to socialise and relax between work, such as small shops, boutiques, restaurants/bars, with shaded seating spaces where one can relax and socialise with views over the theatre and market and back of house programmes.
2. New Users:
New users visit from the larger Tshwane context and come to the city for particular reasons as they travel a distance to use the city. These users come to the city for entertainment or dining out, and are an important factor to the project as they bring new vibrancy to the city as well as outside money which helps rejuvenate the city’s CBD. The project aims to allow for entertainment and dining facilities that will draw these users to the city and to the site specifically.
A great example of this is the Pompidou Centre and plaza in Paris by the Architect Renzo Piano. Its success is attributed to the small shops and boutiques surrounding the Centre. The plaza also becomes a spillout space where people can view public performances on the plaza, while opportunity is provided to eat, socialise and rest. These kinds of spatial relationships between spillout space and performance appeals to people, providing memorable experiences. |
NATURAL LIGHTING OF DEEP ARCHITECTURAL SPACE: THE PERCEPTION OF NEW ZEALAND ARCHITECTS
Richard Barrett
Abstract
The paper considers aspects of a survey carried out amongst a group of registered New Zealand architects in order to establish their knowledge and experience in using core-daylighting systems and methods (Barrett, 2003). Core-daylighting comprises systems and methods for bringing natural light into deep architectural space where conventional methods (such as windows and skylights) cannot readily be used. Examples of these methods are: atria (Matusiak, 1998), sun tracking heliostats, sun and light pipes, light scoops, Fresnel lenses, anidolic zenithal systems, prismatic daylight systems, light shelves, tapping mirrors, light reflectors and louvres (Littlefair, 1991, 1996 & 2000), lightwells, internal courts (Lam, 1986), fibre optic cable (Kay, 1999), and other systems for light re-direction.
The survey was carried out using a questionnaire as described below (Survey Methods). The findings were analysed, resulting in a clear indication that the respondents were not especially experienced or knowledgeable, and a majority felt this to be an area of their skill base in need of development. Whilst the survey was strictly intended to gather quantitative material, respondents were invited to comment freely as they progressed through to completion of the questionnaire. This paper draws on this qualitative data as an insight into several areas, including the attitudes of respondents towards their clients when making decisions about designing buildings for natural daylighting.
Keywords:
Deep architectural space; core-daylighting; natural lighting; consultation.
Introduction
The architectural profession worldwide seems ambivalent on making best use of daylight in buildings. Encouragingly, however, the matter is increasingly brought forward for discussion by and amongst architects, with some authors such as Cook (1997) suggesting that gaining knowledge about innovative daylighting design could become a matter of professional survival. Writing in the influential RIBA Journal, Cook suggests that practitioners who fail to keep themselves informed on the issue may eventually find themselves unable to offer the full range of services and expertise expected by their clients.
Other authors take a less pedantic view as to how ‘expert’ the architect must be, and Evans (1981) cites Louis Khan’s Kimbell Art Museum
as an example of the use of daylighting for mood rather than utility. This approach also characterises the work of the contemporary American architect, Steven Holl, where the creation of an ambience seems more important than achieving starkly correct levels of illumination.
This is one side of the debate. The architect taking an exclusively ‘poetic’ approach to the use of daylight. The other side takes a more pragmatic view, in which the optimising of daylight is seen as a practical means to improving conditions within a building. Ander (1995) sums this up succinctly in a statement which neatly contains the whole raison d’être for core-daylighting:
“Because low-angle daylight can be better utilized, the use of this (core-daylighting) equipment is able to extend the hours within a day, as well as the months within a year, so that natural light can effectively replace or complement electric lighting”.
This paper is not a catalogue of systems and methods for achieving core-daylighting, and in much the same way that the survey respondents were given no visual clues, but rather were forced to call upon their own empirical knowledge and experience, so it applies to the current reader. The reader wishing to delve more into the systems and methods may wish to refer to an earlier paper by the author (Barrett, 2007). Though possibly the most comprehensive catalogues of actual systems and methods for achieving core-daylighting (and other innovative natural lighting ideas) are those published by the United Kingdom’s Building Research Establishment (Littlefair, 1996 & 2000).
**Survey Methods**
The survey group comprised approximately 33% of all practising architects accredited in 2002 by the New Zealand Architects Education and Registration Board, a total of 493 respondents (399 males and 94 females). Of the 493 architects approached, a total of 215 chose to take part in the survey (166 males and 49 females).
The collection of data from participants used two methods via a questionnaire, and these were specific to each of the questions. Questions 1 and 2 were ordinal (on a scale from ‘0 to 10’), and questions 2 to 6 were categoric (‘yes/no’, or specific nominations from listed possibilities). In addition, respondents were invited to make comments to each question, and it is this qualitative commentary that provides the substance for this paper. The original survey set out with the intention of noting any ‘gender’ and/or ‘age’ influences on responses, and whilst not being hugely influential, there are some points of interest as will be seen.
**The Questions**
The importance of natural lighting towards human health, wellbeing, behaviour and performance, is generally accepted by the scientific and medical (including behavioural psychology) communities (Gallagher, 1994 & 1999; Day, 1990; Cherulink, 1993), and, as indicated by the survey outcomes (Barrett, 2003), is not disputed by the respondent group of architects. For example, in question 1 of the survey (Do you believe the health and wellbeing of a building’s occupants is influenced by the presence of daylight within the building?), 96% of respondents marked at the very high end of the 1 to 10 scale (8 or higher). However, as if to
set the scene for the qualitative aspect of the survey, and to acknowledge the importance of being allowed to make general comments, a number of respondents made qualifying comments relating to this survey question, to the effect that other aspects were equally or more important than natural lighting – aspects such as outlook to the exterior (views) and ventilation.
**Do you believe the health and wellbeing of a building’s occupants is influenced by the presence of daylight within the building?**
Not at all 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Significantly
The responses were recorded on a scale of 1 to 10 as shown above. All female respondents indicated 6 or higher on the scale, with 63.3% of the group indicating 10. The figures were similar for males, with 57.2% nominating 10, and only 2 of the 166 respondents dropping below the 6 line (both indicated 3 on the scale).
The survey indicates that the majority of architects taking part (97.9% of females, and 95.8% of males) selected at the ‘significantly’ (8 - 9 - 10) end of the scale. Of the 215 combined total of both male and female respondents, only 8 architects (3.7% of the total) selected lower than 8 on the scale.
Younger architects of both genders in the 20-29 age group tended to be more categorical than others in selecting the highest number on the scale, though being a group relatively low in number the significance is unlikely to be truly indicative. In evaluating the responses to this question, with 96.3% of combined respondents indicating 8 or higher on the scale, the belief appears to be very strongly held amongst the architects surveyed that the health and wellbeing of a building’s occupants is significantly influenced by the presence of daylight within the building. This conclusion, however, needs to be considered alongside a range of comments made by respondents as discussed below. There were 18 comments to this question by male respondents, and 10 by female. The comments fell into four main categories:
**Contact with the exterior**
In considering the wellbeing of the occupants, 5 males and 4 females mentioned the equal importance of factors such as a view to the outside, and a general awareness of exterior conditions such as the weather. One male respondent suggested that an ‘awareness of daylight’ (as opposed to having direct access to daylight) was very important. Three respondents (2 male, 1 female) believed sunlight to be as important as daylight for the wellbeing of occupants.
One of the female participants summarised her response in general to question 1 as follows:
Absolutely - but it’s not just ‘light’ that affects people; it’s being able to see the sky and the weather that is important where people are living or working.
With another female respondent further reinforcing that aspect:
Outlook (and view) is more important.
And a male respondent suggesting that daylight is just one part of a more holistic combination:
Emotional wellbeing is based on a number of factors. Daylighting and the visual link with nature is very much part of it.
The use of the building or space
This category attracted only one direct comment from the female respondents, but figured more highly amongst the males with 9 comments being made. The comments made the point that the use the space is put to had a strong bearing on whether the absence or presence of daylight was an issue. In this, a distinction became apparent between (a) buildings or spaces in which daylight is not essential (some recreational spaces, utility and service type rooms), and (b) those in which daylight should be positively excluded (nightclubs, cinemas, darkrooms). One male respondent considered that multipurpose rooms such as auditoriums could be compromised if daylight was over-abundant:
Dependant on occupancy, e.g. multipurpose auditorium spaces can suffer flexibility with too much natural light.
At the time of conducting the survey (2002), it was relatively common practice in New Zealand to design residential apartments with no direct natural lighting to the bedrooms, with borrowed light across other living spaces being utilised. This practice was criticised by one respondent, and alluded to by others. (The New Zealand Building Code has since been modified to circumvent this practice; NZBC, 2004).
Duration of occupancy (time spent in non-daylit space)
One female and two males commented that the length of time spent in a non-daylit space was a consideration. One of these respondents specifically quantified this, by suggesting (based on his observations) in a workplace situation, that stress would ensue when more than two hours was spent deprived of natural light. This situation is acknowledged, for example in Berlin, Germany, where statutory regulations prohibit daytime occupancy of workplaces for more than 3 hours where daylight is absent (personal discussion with Werner Osterhaus, Head of School of Architecture, Victoria University of Wellington, 5 November 2001).
Sole use of artificial light is acceptable
Three male respondents commented that artificial light is always an acceptable substitute for daylight. None of the three qualified this statement by suggesting that ‘in some instances’ it might be. One male respondent considered that ‘artificial light can be designed better’ (sic):
I have no information that suggests that artificial light is not a suitable substitute. Sunlight, however is beneficial.
Although it has been shown that the majority of respondents considered the presence of daylight to be crucial towards ensuring the health and wellbeing of building users, clearly there are also various mediating factors to be taken into account. The professional responsibility of the architect in this matter is therefore quite complex, requiring considered decision making, taking into account widely diverging issues such as duration of occupancy, and the use to which the building is put. This leads into the next survey question, in which the extent of client consultation is examined. Clearly, if on the one hand the presence of daylight is agreed to be important, whereas on the other the issue is seen to be complicated by a range of other considerations, then the architect’s role, and his/her working relationship with the client also needs to be critically evaluated.
When you prepare designs for clients do you consult them on which spaces require natural daylight?
The responses were recorded on the following scale of 1 to 10
Never 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Always
There was a broader spread of nomination across the scale for this second question, although as for question 1 the majority (though smaller) indicated at the higher end. Of the combined total of 215 respondents 18.1% selected below 5 on the scale, with 81.9% above that figure. Of the female respondents, 67.3% selected at the ‘always’ (8 - 9 - 10) end of the scale, with 69.3% of the males doing the same. However, both male and female respondents were less categorical in selecting 10 than they had been for the first question (46.4% for males, and 48.9% for females).
As with the first question, architects of both genders in the younger age groups (20-29 and 30-34) tended towards the higher end of the scale, though once again their relatively low numbers make the findings somewhat unreliable.
In marked contrast to the first question, however, nominations at the lower (1 - 4) end of the scale were higher, with 12.2% of females and 15.1% of the male architects suggesting they would not as a general rule consult with their clients on the issue. To balance this, however, the written comments made by respondents are particularly revealing as to why consultation was not considered to be a high priority.
There were 40 written comments to this question by male respondents, and 17 by female, and the comments fell into three main categories, with more one-off statements being made than for question 1. The first category was nominated by the largest number of respondents:
As the architect I make the decision for my client
The precise wording of the respondents’ comments were not always stated in quite this way, with a brusque “I know better” being one example, and “normally intuitive” being another. In general terms, however, the message was given by 25 of the male, and 11 of the female respondents, that they believed themselves to be professionally capable of making the decision without reference to their client:
I see it primarily as my decision as a designer.
Consultation specifically about daylight only occurs if I feel I need to do something out of the ordinary to achieve the daylighting I require in a space.
Several respondents (5 male and 3 female) qualified their responses by suggesting that they were more likely to discuss spaces with their clients where daylight was not, or could not be provided, or where it was specifically not required.
Two male respondents stated that they would discuss the issue ‘obliquely’, or as part of general discussion about the effect they were aiming for in the overall design, or of the various benefits and possibilities:
Assuming you are referring to habitable space. I take for granted that most spaces will have access to daylight. I always consult where this is not possible; i.e. about how I propose to deal with spaces that have limited or no access to daylight.
I see it primarily as my decision as a designer. Consultation specifically about daylight only occurs if I feel I need to do something out of the ordinary to achieve the daylighting I require in a space.
**Type of Clientele**
Several respondents made the distinction between commercial/corporate clients, and those for domestic residential projects. Two male respondents pointed out that corporate clients, who tended not to be the end users of the building, were especially difficult to engage on the subject of daylighting and building design. This was compounded by the fact that for this type of commission it was usually quite difficult for the architect to gain access to the actual occupants/users to obtain information and to discuss design options. This communication was usually carried out at owner or management level:
There is always a great difficulty with corporate clients who do not use the spaces themselves.
**Use of the Space**
A distinction was drawn by 1 female and 2 male respondents between habitable and non-habitable spaces, believing that consultation on daylight provision was generally not required for spaces where people neither lived nor worked. Amongst such spaces were listed stores, plantrooms, service rooms, utility spaces, toilets and corridors.
The fact that some activities specifically demanded the exclusion of daylight from rooms was mentioned by 1 female and 5 male respondents. Examples included archives, sensitive storage, darkrooms, and some heritage spaces.
**Other Comments**
One male respondent made the distinction between ‘sunlight’ (in which the direct rays of the sun penetrated to the interior spaces), and ‘daylight’ (in which natural light, but not the direct rays of the sun, penetrated to the interior spaces). He pointed out that the former was more commonly discussed as an issue with his client.
The amount of time spent in the space was considered by one male respondent to be a factor in determining the extent of consultation with the client:
I try to provide natural daylight to most occupiable rooms where people are in there for 15 min or more at a time.
Consideration of the nature and quality of daylight was mentioned as an important consideration by two respondents:
Always in commercial work. Don’t ask so much in residential as answers are more standard, but quality of light questioned; i.e. am, midday, pm.
The quality (orientation) source of daylight is also important. Low amenity apartments becoming people warehouses and worth your study.
Many of the participating architects were quite adamant it was their responsibility to decide whether or not specific rooms would by naturally lit. Some believed this to be part of the expertise they were able to offer clients. On balance this is probably not an unreasonable attitude, particularly when tempered by caution when in doubt.
Significantly, a number of architects stated that the overall aim of the design (what they hoped to achieve) was indeed a matter for consultation
with the client, but that the daylight question was only one of a number of contributing factors towards that end result.
The distinction drawn by respondents between habitable and non-habitable space seems on the surface a reasonable one, however there is potential for bad design decision making unless careful evaluation of even the most utilitarian spaces is carried out. The role of daylighting should always be considered, if for no other reason than energy conservation and economics. Those spaces identified by respondents as having specific reasons for the exclusion of daylight (archives, etc) clearly have issues which go well beyond the preferred method of illumination, and which encompass the whole spectrum of environmental design (temperature and humidity control, etc.).
Possibly the most central issue raised is that of failure to design for natural light where it is clearly an expectation of the client, and a few respondents stated they would consult with their clients when such a situation arose. Though not stated by a large number of the participants, it is perhaps not an unreasonable expectation that all architects would consult in this situation:
Don’t always consult with clients, but they are always made aware if natural daylight is unavailable or difficult to provide in whichever room is affected.
This, and the dilemma posed by the inability to provide natural light in crucial areas leads on to the next question, which examines the levels of usage and knowledge of core-daylighting methods.
**Question 3: On Core Daylighting Systems**
Which of the following core-daylighting systems have you (a) used, or are (b) knowledgeable about?
The first two questions were intended as a ‘warm-up’ to the topic of daylighting in architecture before going on to address the main issue underlying the research project, to gauge levels of knowledge and understanding of the various core-daylighting and light redirection systems and methods. In question 3, therefore, the architects were asked to tick those systems they either had used or were knowledgeable about. The systems were simply listed as follows, with no accompanying illustrations, which might otherwise have triggered an empirical understanding of the system where no prior knowledge had formerly existed.
The following list of 18 core-daylighting ‘systems’ was presented to the respondents, and they were asked to identify the extent of both use and knowledge of each.
- light pipe (e.g. ‘Solar Tube’)
- built up rooflight
- roof window (opening)
- skylight (non-opening)
- atrium
- lightwell
- internal courtyard
- light reflection from exterior
- light shelf
- light reflector
- louvres
- heliostat (solar tracking mirror)
- fresnel lenses
- anidolic zenithal system
- prismatic daylighting system
- optical daylighting system
light guiding glass system
other daylight redirection systems - please specify
The subsequent analysis of responses has indicated a clear dividing line within the list, based on whether respondents see a system as being of a conventional nature (well known amongst the respondent group), or of an unconventional nature (less well known amongst the group). Systems from 'light pipe (e.g. ‘Solar Tube’) to ‘louvers’ fall into the more well known category, with those from ‘heliostat’ to ‘light guiding glass systems’ being less so. This is borne out in written comments, with a suggestion by some respondents that the latter systems were more ‘hi-tech’ than the former. In analysing the responses, therefore, those systems listed down to ‘louvers’ are recorded as conventional, and from ‘heliostats’ to ‘light guiding glass systems’ as unconventional. Analysis of the questionnaire was broken down as follows:
1) Systems Used (Conventional)
2) Systems Used (Unconventional)
3) Systems Known (Conventional)
4) Systems Known (Unconventional)
The list started with systems that were ticked by around 93% of respondents (roof lights, light pipes, lightwells, internal courts), through to those where very few of the architects indicated any knowledge (heliostats, fresnel lenses, fibre optics for daylight transmission, special light guiding glazings and films, optical daylight systems, etc.). In spite of this lack of knowledge, it was encouraging to receive comments from several respondents indicating their own use of innovative light re-direction methods, including the use of pooled water on flat roofs for reflecting light, photo-electric/polarised light shutters, and glass blocks in floor constructions. Of the ‘conventional’ systems, skylights, rooflights and roof windows were by far the most commonly used, with 97% of males and 89.8% of females having used skylights, for example. The least used systems in this category were ‘light shelves’ and ‘light reflectors’, with 16.3% of male respondents, and only 6.1% of females having used ‘reflectors’. The extent to which this latter system was known to respondents, however, was much higher, at 40.4% for the males and 34.7% for the females. These two systems are the possible exceptions within this grouping, being more unconventional in their nature than the others.
In the ‘unconventional’ category, the indicated level of usage was extremely low, with ‘prismatic daylighting system’ attracting the highest figure for males, where 4.8% indicated they had used this method. The female architects scored very low in the ‘unconventional’ category, with not a single respondent indicating they had used any of the listed systems. In all, only 28 of the 166 male architects had used systems from this category, and it is here that the only really apparent age group variation seems to have occurred in the responses to this question. Of the 28 male respondents a total of 11 were in the age group 40-44. The indicated level of knowledge in the ‘unconventional’ category was somewhat more encouraging, with, for example, 27.7% of the males saying they had knowledge of ‘heliostats’, and 11.4% of them indicating ‘fresnel lenses’. The females registered 4% for both of these systems.
There were four written comments by the female respondents, and 11 by males, and there were
three main issues raised:
**Other Systems Used**
This category, in which respondents offered ‘other’ core-daylighting systems which they had themselves used, attracted the highest number of comments for this question, with 7 males and 1 female responding.
A number of interesting systems were nominated, including the reflection of light using pooled water on flat roofs, glass blocks used in floor construction, photo-electric/polarised light shutters, and fibre optics. The latter is perhaps the most intriguing, particularly when considered alongside international endeavours, where the general consensus is that fibre optics systems are both exceedingly costly and of limited practical application (Kay, 1999). The limitation imposed by an anonymous questionnaire is very apparent in this instance, where the opportunity to follow up with the respondent could have proved of considerable interest. It should also be noted that the respondent did not clarify whether he was nominating ‘use of’ or ‘knowledge of’ fibre optics as a core-daylighting system.
More conventional methods are also included by respondents, and these are also very important being somewhat less costly, and capable of being readily included within normal construction and budgetary requirements. These include the simple device of carefully selected colour schemes to enhance light reflection, and the incorporation of ‘borrowed lights’:
- Internal glazing / clearstorey glazing.
- Sidelights / borrowed lights.
- Internal wall treatment especially colour schemes.
**Budgetary Considerations**
One male respondent stated that he had specified the use of light shelves in a project, but that post-tender cost cutting had seen them removed.
Two similar remarks were made under ‘Further Comments’ (at the end of the questionnaire), where one respondent stated she had often wished to incorporate systems for more active sun control, but again had always been limited by the budget. The other pointed out the fact that cost is always a big determinant in the making of design decisions:
I have often wanted to use more active sun control techniques, but have always had them removed from the developed design stage as an unnecessary cost. This is even with the client acknowledging sun control would make a beneficial difference. So many problems in our industry boil down to cost.
Three respondents (2 female and 1 male) made specific comment regarding their lack of knowledge, especially in the more unconventional areas. Perhaps the most intriguing response was from a female architect who, although she was unsure as to the nature of some of the more unconventional systems, thought it was possible she may have used them:
I have limited knowledge about some core-daylighting systems but not enough to be confident designing them.
Not sure what the last 6 are (may have used them?).
**Other Comments**
As with most of the questions, several respondents made comments which could equally have been made in response to one or more of the
other questions. An illustration of this occurred in this case where an issue commented widely upon in question 1 was again raised. A female respondent mentioned outlook and awareness of exterior conditions, and commented that ‘workrooms’ could be quite adequately lit using artificial means, and that occupant dissatisfaction was usually caused by factors other than lack of daylight, such as “isolation, detachment ... and lack of sky view”.
It’s not just ‘light’ that affects people; it’s being able to see the sky and the weather that is important where people are living or working.
Workrooms can be lit perfectly adequately by artificial light. When you ask workers for comments they don’t necessarily talk about light levels – they may talk about isolation, detachment, not being valued by management, and when further questioned they identify lack of sky view as a core part of their dissatisfaction. Therefore hi tech indirect lighting methods such as bracketed in Q3 (respondent bracketed all systems from ‘light shelf’ down to ‘other’) would not meet that sort of client comment/brief.
In retrospect the questionnaire has limitations when it comes to evaluating the actual depth of knowledge amongst the respondents. For example, an indication of knowledge of ‘heliostats’ could at one extreme mean the respondent has complete understanding of the principles involved and may have seen examples of heliostats in use, to the other extreme where the respondent has a vague recollection of reading about heliostats at some time in the past.
The observation was made by several respondents at various points in the questionnaire that the survey was somewhat remiss in the lack of explanation for some of the less well known core-daylighting systems. Given that the aim of the survey was to establish the extent of awareness, however, then this is perhaps a defensible approach.
Having established some idea of the extent of awareness of core-daylighting systems amongst architects, the next question asks participants to make a series of judgements on ‘difficult’ projects regarding the use of artificial light in lieu of daylight.
**Imagine a difficult project where you are forced to use artificial lighting as the sole means of illumination for some of the interior spaces - tick those spaces where this would be acceptable.**
This question was divided into two categories, residential or non-residential.
**Residential**
- dining area
- living area
- bedroom
- bathroom
- kitchen
- hallway
- other residential – please specify:
**Non-residential**
- individual office
- open-plan office space
- restaurant
- wine bar
- retail shop
- reception area to company office
- airport terminal
- factory floor
In considering sole use of artificial light in residential spaces, respondents were very clear in nominating two areas above all others where this would be acceptable, and these were ‘bathrooms’ and ‘hallways’. For bathrooms 81.6% of the female respondents and 80.1% of the males, and for hallways 85.7% of females and 87.4% of the males, were comfortable in using solely artificial lighting.
The ‘living area’ was clearly at the opposite end of the acceptability spectrum, with only 4.1% of female architects and 3% of their male counterparts prepared to use solely artificial lighting. The ‘dining area’ was somewhat more acceptable to respondents, with 26.5% of the females and 34.9% of the males nominating this space. The ‘bedroom’ figured somewhere in between, with 14.3% of females and 12.7% of the males indicating them as being acceptable.
‘Other residential’ attracted an average of 34.5% of respondents, and this category included such respondent nominated areas as utility rooms, stores, garages, and games and entertainment rooms.
In the non-residential category the nominations were somewhat more evenly spread, and there were more spaces which respondents felt could be solely artificially lit. Around 8 of the listed space types fell at the high end of acceptability, with 2 at the low end. As might have been anticipated, areas such as ‘theatres’ and ‘art galleries’ were acceptable to the highest numbers. For theatres the figures were 81.6% for females and 83.7% for males, and for art galleries, 81.6% and 77.1% respectively.
Other spaces at the high end included ‘retail shops’, with nominations from 77.6% of the females and 78.9% of the males, ‘wine bars’, with 73.5% of the females and 78.3% of the males, and ‘restaurants’, with 59.2% of the females and 68.7% of the males.
Two spaces in particular were identified at the low end of acceptability. The ‘hospital ward’ attracted 8.2% of the female respondents and 12.7% of males, with the figures for the ‘classroom’ being 10.2% and 10.8% respectively. Some respondents qualified their nomination for ‘classroom’, referring to rooms such as lecture theatres as being artificially lit by preference or choice.
Respondents identified a number of spaces in the ‘other non-residential’ category, which came in overall at the low end of acceptability, with nomination by an average of 7.4% of the respondents. The list of those spaces where lack of daylight was considered acceptable included libraries, meeting rooms, prison cells, archives spaces, warehouses, service rooms and toilet areas. Also, several respondents identified a range of spaces such as nightclubs, casinos and other spaces which are used predominantly at night.
For this question there were 11 written comments by the female respondents, and 39 by males, and there were three main categories of comment:
Other Residential
This category, in which respondents offered ‘other residential’ spaces in which absence of daylight was acceptable, resulted in the nomination of more traditional spaces such as laundries, utility rooms and garages, though a sign of the times was apparent in the nomination of wine cellars, home entertainment rooms, home theatres and home gymnasia by several respondents. Also acceptable to one male respondent was a room used exclusively for formal dining.
Other Non-Residential
In the ‘non-residential’ category a range of spaces was nominated as listed above. In addition to this, considerations such as the duration of occupancy were raised in the comments. One respondent identified ‘transitional spaces’, in which little time was spent, with another suggesting that internally focussed temporarily used rooms were in the range of acceptability. The same respondent also considered it unusual for situations to arise in which total reliance on artificial lighting was necessary. Another respondent who commented on the duration of occupancy factor, also added that “time of day” and “opportunities for relief” should be taken into account.
Transitional space where no-one has to spend their working day.
For internally focussed temporarily used spaces it is more acceptable. It is rarely necessary to totally rely on artificial lighting
Indicative, perhaps, of traditionally persisting attitudes towards incarceration, two male respondents considered it quite acceptable to totally exclude daylight from prison cells.
The identification of spaces used exclusively at night was made by a number of the respondents, and in addition to the more obvious choices such as nightclubs and casinos, other spaces requiring “fantasy and special effects” were also nominated.
Commercial kitchens were considered to be within the range of acceptability by one male respondent, and other nominations included libraries, and specialised medical areas, such as operating theatres and x-ray suites, where it was clearly necessary to positively exclude daylight.
Clarification Comments
There were frequent instances in which respondents felt it necessary to clarify or qualify aspects of their nominations on the questionnaire form. In one case, for example, the respondent had indicated that it was acceptable to have non-daylit ‘art galleries’, but he also wrote a qualifying comment indicating that this was dependent on the nature of the exhibits. In another case the respondent indicated that whilst ‘classrooms’ should be naturally lit, the same was not true for ‘lecture theatres’. Another respondent felt that “some types” of classroom could be solely artificially lit.
Reluctant or conditional acceptance was occasionally indicated by respondents. For example, one female architect would accept no daylighting to ‘retail shops’, ‘reception areas’, ‘dining areas’, ‘individual offices’ and ‘gymnasia’, but only reluctantly.
‘Restaurants’ and ‘wine bars’ were acceptable to another respondent, but only if they operated at night.
Other Comments
There were a number of one-off comments, with one respondent suggesting he would resign the commission if a client requested exclusion of daylight in any residential situation:
If they wanted (only) artificial light in the above (residential) would tell them to get another architect.
There was a comment alluding to the generality of the questionnaire, with the respondent stating that “some spaces in the list would be acceptable, but too general a question”.
One female respondent made a somewhat derogatory (though possibly quite telling) remark about Frank Lloyd Wright’s attitude towards building users and occupants, suggesting that he paid no heed to the importance of view to the exterior when he designed the Johnson Wax Building. The same respondent included a range of other issues that should be taken into account in evaluating the choice of illumination method. These included (i) the level of involvement in an activity being experienced by the occupants, as for example with theatre-goers, shoppers and diners, (ii) time of the day, and (iii) duration of occupancy:
Artificial illumination only’ would be acceptable in a space where – people are strongly focussed on other things (eating, shopping, theatre) - it’s night outside (restaurant etc) - people are not spending hours every day there (shop, gallery, etc) (pity the staff though - hopefully they have a view out from the staffroom or workroom) - where the floor plan is very large, e.g. factory floor, so that the sense of outside would be very remote. But F L Wright managed to get daylight into the Johnson Wax Building and the staff loved it, so he said (he wouldn’t let them have a view because windows didn’t conform with his overall aesthetic: so much for valuing staff).
Judging by the number of written comments to this question, respondents clearly felt the need to do more than simply nominate individual spaces which they felt could be non-daylit. There were a few spaces on which the majority were in agreement, such as ‘theatres’ at the high end of acceptability, and ‘hospital wards’ at the low end. There were other spaces, however, where the architects felt it was important to qualify their nomination, and to list some of the mediating factors to be considered. One frequently mentioned factor, for example, being length of time spent in the space.
Possibly the most unexpected nomination in the residential area, given the contemporary focus on the ‘kitchen’ as a social, entertaining and gathering place within the home, was the relatively high number nominating this as being acceptable without natural light. For female respondents the figure was 26.5%, and for males 27.7%. Again, however, the occasional generality of the questionnaire needs to be taken into account when evaluating responses. It may well be, for example, that the respondents were basing their judgement on the contrasting lifestyles of young professional couples or singles living in inner city apartments, as compared with that of more traditional family groups in larger suburban family dwellings.
The ‘unexpected’ equivalent in the non-residential category was the ‘church’, which was nominated at a relatively high level of acceptability with more than one in four of the respondent architects believing it was acceptable for churches to be non-daylit (26.5% of the female respondents, and 25.3% of the males). This challenges a long established tradition of religious building design in which
natural light has been considered absolutely central to fulfilment of the building’s purpose. Examples include Le Corbusier’s chapel at Ronchamp, and several of Louis Kahn’s religious buildings. Also of more recent vintage would be the Chapel of St Ignatius by American architect Steven Holl. Each example being testimony to its architect’s philosophy that daylight is as much a material as the glass, wood, steel and concrete of the building’s fabric.
With four questions completed, and the general level of respondent awareness and attitude towards the issues of daylight and core-daylighting having been established, the final two questions aim to gauge firstly how respondents feel about the state of the art amongst their colleagues, and secondly how keen they are as individuals to be more knowledgeable about the subject.
Do you believe New Zealand architects are as knowledgeable as they might be in the use of core-daylighting systems?
Respondents were simply asked to indicate ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘don’t know’.
Although a majority of the architects answered ‘no’, there was a substantial gender variation which was far more noticeable than with any of the other five questions. Of the females, 83.7% felt that the levels of knowledge were not what they might be, with 68.1% of the males agreeing (a 15.6% gender variation). Allowing for the 7.2% of males who were unsure, a total of 24.7% of their group believed the profession to be knowledgeable. In comparison, 14.3% of the females felt this way.
There were 22 written comments to this question, 6 from females and 16 from the males, and the comments generally fell into 4 main categories as outlined below:
Don’t Know / Not Sure
Of the total of 22 comments, 10 were in this category, with respondents indicating they were simply unable to answer the question. One male architect possibly summed up the apparent all round reactions by simply stating “I have no idea what other architects know or don’t know”.
Limited Knowledge
Three respondents believed there to be a limited level of knowledge amongst practitioners in New Zealand, one describing it as “rudimentary”, and another as “mid range knowledge”.
Systems Unknown to Respondents
Three of the comments were made with reference to the respondents’ own personal levels of knowledge, one stating that her answers to question 3 (systems used or known) were clearly indicative of her personal lack of knowledge; she had indicated the use or knowledge of ‘conventional’ core-daylighting systems down to ‘louvres’, with none of the ‘unconventional’ systems nominated.
Not a Major Issue in New Zealand
Two respondents considered that in New Zealand there was not the same need for core-daylighting expertise as there was internationally, with one suggesting that it was uncommon for projects to occur of a nature and scale which might justify such measures.
Other Comments
One female respondent considered that architects were well aware of the issues
relating to daylight and building design, but were prevented from addressing them by the limitations of the brief.
A male respondent, who had indicated ‘no’ in answer to the question, qualified this by saying that for lifestyle reasons in residential situations the idea of using core-daylighting was unacceptable. His point was not entirely clear, however it could perhaps be construed to mean that no special measures should be taken beyond the more traditional methods of bringing daylight into residential spaces.
Both comments undoubtedly relate back to question 3, and concerns expressed by several respondents over limitations imposed by cost.
In spite of the gender imbalance, as noted above, the belief is held by a majority of all respondents (71.6%) that practitioners in this country are not as knowledgeable as they might be on the issue of core-daylighting. Leading on from this, the final question asks respondents if they would like to become personally more knowledgeable and thus, by implication, see the situation change within the architectural profession in New Zealand.
Would you personally like to be more knowledgeable in the use of core-daylighting systems?
Respondents were again asked to indicate ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘don’t know’.
Unlike the previous question the genders were evenly balanced in their responses to question 6. The majority of respondents were clear in their wish to know more about core-daylighting systems, with the female affirmative response at 83.7% and the males at 82%. Allowing for a small number of ‘don’t knows’, the figures for those architects not wishing to improve their knowledge were 14.3% for the females and 14.5% for the males.
There were 9 written comments to this question, 3 from females and 6 from the male architects. The comments essentially fell into just one category, with most respondents simply qualifying their answer to the question.
One of the females had no desire for more (as she described it) “hi-tech info”, with one of the males nominating ‘yes’ but stating he was in “no rush”. Two of the respondents indicated they would research the issue if and when the need for core-daylighting arose on any projects in the future.
Whilst the majority of the surveyed architects have indicated they would like to be more knowledgeable on the issue of core-daylighting, the tenor of the comments suggests it is certainly not a high priority in their minds. It is perhaps quite reasonable to take the attitude “I will research as required”, as this approach is central to the offering of any professional service, where no individual practitioner could reasonably be expected to be fully expert in all fields of their discipline. Whereas the client would be right to anticipate efficiency in the sourcing of the information, or of recommended onward referral to another professional, expert in the particular field.
The point has been made by Matusiak (2000) that it is not possible for all architects to be experts in core-daylighting, but rather that they acknowledge and understand the difficulties, and then seek appropriate professional help. This
suggests that the level of understanding held by architects, if not required to be comprehensive, should at least be sufficient to allow for informed dialogue with the acknowledged expert.
As a final part of the questionnaire respondents were invited to make further comments, and these are outlined below.
**Respondents’ Further Comments**
A total of 70 ‘Further Comments’ were made by the architects participating in the survey, 15 from the females and 55 from the males. As with comments specific to the six questions, the final remarks also fell into a number of categories as follows:
**Examples of Projects**
Ten respondents cited examples of their own projects which they felt had either incorporated some form of core-daylighting, or would have benefited from having done so.
One of the female respondents who had worked on the National Library in Wellington, pointed out the need to address the dual issues of human needs and comfort, as well as the protection of light sensitive material contained in the building. Of particular interest in this quoted example is the fact that the needs of the occupants appear to have been acknowledged by the building owners, with the construction of a glazed rooftop cafeteria.
One project I was involved with which presented major lighting issues was the National Library in Wellington. Huge areas under the building (actually underground) provide storage. Many people work here all day. All resources in the building were considered to be light sensitive. In order to provide daylight to office space, whilst eliminating direct daylight, deep specifically designed window recesses were integrated into the cladding system. To provide relief from unlit work space a glass pyramid was built on top of the building to house a cafeteria.
On the one hand the importance and quality of natural light is acknowledged, where on the other, its deleterious effects are quite justifiably feared.
This dilemma, along with the facility to control the nature and quality of light in sensitive situations is often mentioned by users of a range of similar building types, in particular museums and art galleries:
... gallery spaces within the museum that have no daylight are so much easier to control and the exhibits look so much better as a result - really the aim of the exercise.
(Personal e-mail correspondence with the curator of the Waikato Museum: 20 July 2001)
Another female respondent had used solar tubes for lighting ground floor internal en-suites in a rest home, and she included a sketched freehand cross section of the building to illustrate (the equivalent rooms at the upper level were designed with roof windows).
A suggestion involving some interesting lateral thinking was made by another of the female respondents, although she pointed out that most of her work was on too small a scale to warrant the incorporation of core-daylighting. The idea involved the security aspect of prison design, which she felt might well be a spinoff from the use of core-daylighting systems.
With one exception it appears to be the case with most of the quoted examples that skylights, or some other form of overhead aperture system,
was the preferred method used for daylighting internal spaces. Whilst perfectly acceptable and effective, such systems obviously pose a limitation on building height and on the number of storeys capable of receiving natural light. It was interesting to note, therefore, that one of the male respondents had also used louvres for redirecting daylight, and that he did so on a regular basis when designing new homes.
Most of my new home designs use skylight or external louvre systems to manipulate light inside and out.
**Higher Priority Issues**
As noted by a number of the architects in their comments to Question 1, many felt that a range of other issues were equally if not more important than core-daylighting. In all, 18 of the 55 comments in this final section expressed this view.
Foremost amongst the other considerations was having a view to the exterior, a point made by 9 respondents, though some also included ventilation and other issues in the same comment.
Not only daylight but the ‘long view’ a window affords/enhances one’s pleasure of being in a space. So you are looking not just at lighting but emotional wellbeing.
The importance of aspect was strongly made in particular by one of the male respondents who felt that “The psychology of visual aspect is often of greater importance than whether the lighting is all natural ... external vistas are important, for orientation as well as visual connection to the “world outside”.
By implication core-daylighting applies exclusively to internal spaces, and several respondents recognised that another important issue also comes up with this type of planning, that of ventilation. One of the female architects believed that natural light and natural ventilation were interconnected, and that both had implications for health and wellbeing. One of the male respondents felt that ventilation was actually more important than natural light.
That it is potentially dangerous to investigate any architectural issue in isolation from others is obvious. A discussion on daylighting is no exception to this, and one respondent summed this up by suggesting that a more important issue was to establish what people’s needs or wants might be, and she felt that issues such as productivity and teamwork were influenced by a whole range of factors.
Along similar lines, a number of respondents felt that a sense of compromise was important, rather than total focus on achieving natural lighting, possibly at the expense of other issues. Two architects considered that integration of natural and artificial lighting systems needed to be considered, whilst another, in specific reference to “spiritual space” stressed the importance of control on quality and quantity of daylight to ensure that the desired effect was achieved.
Integration of light systems with partial natural light - control of solar penetration with shading and dispersal techniques.
... Combination of natural and artificial lighting is more often the more cost effective solution, rather than one or the other.
... a number of categories mentioned require a fairly specific response; for example, natural light into a spiritual space I consider desirable. This needs to be carefully controlled however. Degree of natural light,
orientation, and desirability of, are all fundamental to a design solution.
**Not a Major Issue in New Zealand**
As with comments for question 5, in which two respondents felt that the need for core-daylighting expertise was not as strong in New Zealand as it was internationally, three of the respondents made similar remarks in this section.
One female architect felt that in the USA and Europe less natural light was available, due in part to higher building densities, thus providing stronger justification for the use of sophisticated daylighting systems.
Another of the female respondents, whilst acknowledging the value of having an understanding of such issues, also felt there was little or no demand for such skills.
The third respondent, a male, also made reference to the lack of demand for expertise in the field of core-daylighting, and he suggested that the prevailing New Zealand town planning provisions ensured that housing densities would continue to be kept low.
Although it is necessary to be aware of core daylighting systems, there really is not a large demand for them in most cases. NZ’s Town Planning provisions for low density housing doesn’t really necessitate using/requiring them.
**Budget Considerations**
As for question 3, once again a number of respondents raised the issue of cost as a prohibitive factor in the debate about core-daylighting.
I have often wanted to use more active sun control techniques, but have always had them removed from the developed design stage as an unnecessary cost. This is even with the client acknowledging sun control would make a beneficial difference. So many problems in our industry boil down to cost.
**Conclusions**
The survey set out to establish the state of the art amongst New Zealand architects in relation to knowledge and awareness of core-daylighting. It remains to draw a conclusion from the findings, though in doing so, the nature of the questionnaire design is firstly discussed briefly.
The quantitative aspects of the questionnaire are, by definition, measurable, and the tables are the result of this. In contrast, the qualitative aspects, resulting from comments made by the respondents, are less readily analysed, though their contribution is equally important.
It could be argued that an element of quantitative processing of the comments was in fact possible, for example where a known number of respondents all added the note “views to the outside” when answering question 1. However, the question did not ask respondents to nominate other issues which they believed might influence the wellbeing of building users, but simply whether or not they believed daylight to be important in this regard. The situation would certainly have warranted quantitative analysis had the question been phrased along the lines “List those environmental considerations which you believe can influence the health and wellbeing of a building’s occupants?” In this case all respondents could be assumed to have looked at a range of considerations, rather than some choosing to do so, and a measurable set
of responses would have been achieved.
In designing the questionnaire, thought was given to this dual aspect, as to whether or not a mix of qualitative and quantitative data could be successfully dealt with. The decision, that indeed it could, was influenced by the unique nature of the respondent group’s profession. The practice of architecture, per se, involves a balance of the ‘scientific’ and the ‘artistic’, and architects deal in widely diverging areas; on the one hand in aspects such as human performance, comfort and emotion, and on the other, practicalities such as cost, technical performance of their buildings and regulatory compliance. In dealing with any project the architect brings to bear a fine sense of judgement over all of these considerations. The conclusion to this paper therefore attempts to do the same, and to balance the qualitative and quantitative aspects of the issue.
Taken as a whole, the survey indicates a reasonable level of interest in the issues raised. These issues range from general discussion on the importance of natural light for human function, through the question of client consultation, and into the specifics of designing for daylight, and the use and knowledge of systems and methods. Interest, however, does not necessarily translate into action, and there seems to be some opinion amongst the group which sees the issue as important, but not necessarily of high priority. This is exemplified by the respondent who in response to question 6, (“Would you personally like to be more knowledgeable in the use of core-daylighting systems?”), answered “yes, but no hurry”.
In considering why this might be the case, other comments by respondents provide some insight. For example, there is a perception that New Zealand (with its small population of 4 million spread thinly around the country), unlike many other countries, has little or no high density building development, and that we are not therefore deprived of natural light due to overcrowding. Realistically this perception is probably more true for residential than it is for commercial projects, where arguably some central city development, particularly much of that carried out during the 1980s, would clearly have benefited from a more proactive and sensitive approach to daylight design. Although the survey was not designed to be categorical on the point, it would seem from many of the comments that a fairly high number of the architects worked primarily on residential projects, with a consequent over-emphasis in that area.
In the process of relegating core-daylighting to low priority, other issues featured as being equally or more important in the minds of a number of respondents. The provision of views to the exterior, along with well designed natural ventilation, were two of the most frequently quoted of these issues. This could perhaps be summed up as the need to ensure a careful balance of the numerous issues inherent in the process of designing architecture, with no one single aspect taking predominance over others.
The low priority viewpoint was not universally stated, with a number of respondents strongly advocating the use of natural light wherever and whenever possible. It was interesting to note that a few architects nominated actual projects they had worked on, some of which had used specific core-daylighting methods, and others where the architect felt the design
would have been improved if such methods had been included. As to the question, “why not included?” there were perhaps three principal reasons that emerged from the survey.
Firstly, the issue of cost, and the fact that ‘luxuries’ such as light shelves would be amongst the first deletions where post-tender cost savings were required.
Secondly, the difficulty of engaging client interest in the issue, especially where they were not the end users of the building. This factor is possibly also largely cost driven, though it is also indicative of mindset, where the basic and traditional solution to lack of natural light is simply to install artificial.
The third, and most telling in terms of the aims of the survey, was the self admission by a number of respondents that they personally lacked the confidence, knowledge and skills required to design for core-daylighting. Some respondents felt this also to be true for most of their New Zealand practitioner colleagues.
This viewpoint was clearly demonstrated by the survey findings, particularly in relation to question 3, where the extent of use and knowledge was shown to be restricted largely to the more conventional core-daylighting systems.
The survey seems to indicate that there is no great pressure on New Zealand architects to address the issue of core-daylighting. In fact a reasonable number of the respondents seemed quite unaware that the issue even existed beyond basic conventional methods such as skylights.
If such a pressure were to emerge, it would presumably be the result of greater overcrowding in our cities, and of clients clamouring for solutions. Human nature being what it is, little will be done until the need is present. Global warming, and, in particular, increasing levels of UV in New Zealand, may eventually be considered sufficient reason to develop appropriate design skills. A well considered core-daylighting solution in a kindergarten, for example, could protect young children from too much exposure to UV during the height of summer, whilst allowing them good access to daylight. Also, well designed internal spaces could become attractive and multi-dimensional in mid-winter if core-daylighting was addressed more proactively as a design option. Since undertaking the survey in 2002 (Barrett, 2003), the debate on sustainability in buildings, carbon emissions and global climate change, has taken off apace, and it would be interesting to follow up with the same survey now in 2008. One significant development since the survey was carried out is undoubtedly the increased receptivity of clients, and greater willingness on their part to commit to spending money on what had until comparatively recently been considered add-on luxuries. In parallel with this, architects are also now required to be far more open to these needs, and to having the necessary skills and knowledge to implement them into their buildings. A frequently quoted comment in the 2002 survey went along the lines “… not a major issue in New Zealand”. It is to be hoped that the short few years that have passed since that time have turned this attitude around.
References
Conference papers and journal articles
Further reading of interest
Richard Barrett
Richard Barrett is a practising architect and a Senior Lecturer and Chair of Research at the School of Architectural Studies, Christchurch Polytechnic Institute of Technology, Christchurch, New Zealand. He graduated from the School of Architecture, City of Leicester Polytechnic (UK) in 1971. In 2003 he was awarded a Master of Architecture degree (with Merit) by Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand. His interest in the subject matter for his masters thesis, ‘core-daylighting’ (systems and methods for bringing natural light into deep architectural space where conventional methods such as windows and skylights cannot readily be used), was sparked during the early 1980s whilst working as architect for the redevelopment of New Zealand’s Scott Base in Antarctica. Barrett visited the continent to monitor construction, and the experience of living in constant daylight, with no apparent diurnal-nocturnal rhythm to pace daily activities, led to an interest in the physical and physiological influence brought about by natural light (or its lack), and in particular the role played by architecture in this process. This culminated in his Masters thesis (Barrett, 2003) which examined the state of the art amongst New Zealand architects. He is an Associate Member of the New Zealand Institute of Architects, and committee member of the NZIA Canterbury/Westland Branch. He can be contacted at barrettr@cpit.ac.nz |
LEED-ND and Livability Revisited
By Geoff Boeing, Daniel Church, Haley Hubbard, Julie Mickens, and Lili Rudis
Abstract
This study examines LEED-ND’s criteria for Neighborhood Pattern and Design (NPD). LEED-ND was developed as a system for rating new neighborhoods on the sustainability of their planning. However, it has increasingly been adopted by cities as a de facto measure of “livable” neighborhood design and used to accelerate development processes. We hypothesize that these criteria do not accurately capture livability as defined by residents. Our study area is Temescal, a gentrifying neighborhood in Oakland, CA. Temescal could not achieve LEED-ND certification due to technical disqualifications, yet residents of the neighborhood rated its livability very highly. Furthermore, residents consistently rated and ranked NPD characteristics quite differently than did LEED-ND, calling into question its validity as a universally codifiable rating system. We propose that a single set of weighted, prescriptive design guidelines may not be able to reflect the diverse values and desired amenities of different communities.
Introduction
Neighborhood livability and sustainability have shifted in meaning and importance throughout the history of city planning. The modern quest to define and codify these terms has been taken up in earnest by planners and designers, yet consensus is difficult. What exactly is livability? Is it a component of sustainability, or perhaps vice versa? Can there be a single, normative definition or are the values and desires of a multiplicity of communities simply too diverse to encapsulate?
LEED-ND is a system for evaluating neighborhood design that was developed in partnership with the Congress for the New Urbanism and the Natural Resources Defense Council. It poses a set of weighted criteria that communities and developers can use to evaluate new neighborhood design. While ostensibly meant for certifying sustainability, LEED-ND is increasingly being formally codified by cities, pitched as a development accelerator, and advertised as a creator of “livable” communities. The United States Department of Housing and Urban Development recently started requiring applicants to secure LEED-ND conditional approval for neighborhood revitalization projects to be considered for Choice
Workshops are being pitched to cities, offering training on how to use LEED-ND to accelerate the development of sustainable communities (Smart Growth America 2013). The prominent New Urbanist practitioners who authored The Smart Growth Manual write that LEED-ND allows us to “objectively determine the degree to which proposed projects embody smart growth principles ... it is expected that LEED-ND will become a municipal standard for controlling the urban design of large-scale development” (Duany, Speck, and Lydon 2010, 6–8).
As LEED-ND grows more ubiquitous, it becomes imperative to understand its outcomes and impacts on communities. What is the relationship between LEED-ND and livability? Some of its codifiers indicate that its standards can in fact foster neighborhood livability. For example, in their discussion of the benefits of certification, the city of Charlottesville, Virginia, states that LEED-ND helps “create more livable communities” (City of Charlottesville 2013). Yet if livability is partly in the eye of the beholder, what exactly is a livable community? Different communities may prioritize different neighborhood amenities or designs over others, and a cookie-cutter certification system may not succeed as a one-size-fits-all tool. Can a community be considered livable by its residents without satisfying the normative design criteria of LEED-ND?
Several of LEED-ND’s criteria are quite prescriptive aesthetically. Consider the following from its handbook, accompanied by an illustration of a raised stoop: “If the project has ground-floor dwelling units, the principle floor of at least 50% of those units must have an elevated finished floor no less than 24 inches above the sidewalk grade” (USGBC 2012, 51). Is this necessary for livability or sustainability? While theorists such as Jane Jacobs (1992) and Christopher Alexander (1977) have argued in favor of traditional architectural elements like the stoop, such precise aesthetic mandates are susceptible to charges of design determinism (Knox and Schweitzer 2010) and prescribed homogeneity (Cabrera and Najarian 2013). LEED-ND has also been criticized for its complexity, subjectivity, and lack of empiricism (Ewing et al. 2013).
Beyond this hype and criticism of LEED-ND, there exist some gaps in the research literature. While LEED-ND attempts to standardize neighborhood sustainability, it is important to understand if its prescriptions are necessary or sufficient to create highly livable neighborhoods for residents. It is increasingly being codified in the name of livability, but can a single set of weighted criteria satisfy diverse values and preferences? Previous research has not explored resident attitudes toward livability and LEED-ND’s NPD criteria from the perspective of both longtime residents and newcomers in a diverse, gentrifying neighborhood. Our study area is the Temescal
district, a rapidly transitioning neighborhood in north Oakland, California, that exhibits the characteristics of traditional neighborhood design.
We hypothesize that:
- \([H1]\): The study area would be disqualified from LEED-ND certification.
- \([H2]\): The residents of the study area would, on average, consider their neighborhood to be livable.
- \([H3]\): The residents of the study area would weight the NPD criteria differently than LEED-ND does.
We first conducted a series of field observations in the study area to score the neighborhood against LEED-ND’s NPD checklist. Then we administered a survey in each study area to determine how residents rate the importance of the different criteria and their own neighborhood’s livability. This paper is organized as follows: first we provide an overview of LEED-ND and neighborhood assessment and then examine the relationship between LEED-ND and livability. Next we discuss our study area and research design and then analyze our results. The paper concludes with a discussion of our findings and a trajectory for future research.
**LEED-ND and Neighborhood Assessment**
**History and Goals**
The United States Green Building Council (USGBC) was founded in 1993 by Rick Fedrizzi, David Gottfried, and Mike Italiano to promote environmental values and sustainable design in the construction industry. The standards developed by USGBC are called the Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design standards (LEED). LEED’s first pilot program was launched 1998 and its first official set of design standards were issued in 2000. It was updated in 2002 and 2005 (USGBC 2012). LEED for Neighborhood Development (LEED-ND) extends LEED’s energy and environmental standards to the neighborhood scale. Many of its criteria, particularly site location and neighborhood pattern, reflect New Urbanist principles and are inspired by traditional neighborhood design (USGBC 2012). LEED-ND is not the only system for evaluating neighborhood sustainability. Sharifi and Murayama (2013) provided a comprehensive overview of alternatives when they reviewed LEED-ND alongside several other systems, including EcoCraft Communities, the UK’s BREEAM Communities, and Japan’s CASBEE-UD. Despite alternatives, LEED-ND is the most popular rating system in the United States.
There are five broad point categories in LEED-ND: Smart Location and Linkage (worth up to 27 points), Neighborhood Pattern and Design (worth up to 44 points), Green Infrastructure and Buildings (worth up to 29 points), Innovation and Design Process (worth up to 6 points), and a Regional Priority Credit (worth up to 4 points). The Neighborhood Pattern and Design (NPD) category—the subject of this paper—comprises the plurality of total available points. In addition to offering fewer points, the other major categories are not particularly relevant to measuring residents’ perceptions of livability. While their success may be debatable by designers, engineers, and technicians, it is largely a technical debate, not a matter of taste or culture.
The Neighborhood Pattern and Design Criteria
On the other hand, the criteria in the NPD category are potentially subject to varied opinions regarding livability, and that variability may be based on individual idiosyncrasy, demographic characteristics (e.g., children in the household), broader cultural considerations, and other factors. NPD is the part of LEED-ND that speaks directly to urban design at the neighborhood scale. The New Urbanist design paradigm is unsurprisingly prominent in the criteria as the Congress for the New Urbanism collaborated in the criteria’s development. Consequently, as prescriptive criteria, these standards may be susceptible to charges of environmental design determinism, elitism, and homogeneity (Cabrera and Najarian 2013).
The USGBC’s handbook on LEED-ND emphasizes environmental, social, health, and equity benefits:
Green neighborhood developments are beneficial to the community and the individual as well as the environment. The character of a neighborhood, including its streets, homes, workplaces, shops, and public spaces, significantly affects the quality of life. Green neighborhood developments enable a wide variety of residents to be part of the community by including housing of varying types and price ranges. Green developments respect historical resources and the existing community fabric; they preserve open space and encourage access to parks. Green buildings, community gardens, and streets and public spaces that encourage physical activity are beneficial for public health. Combine the substantial environmental and social benefits and the case for green neighborhoods makes itself. (USGBC 2012, xi)
Prerequisites and Point Values
As Table 1 illustrates, the NPD criteria can be conceptually divided up into three tiers, determined by the weighting that LEED-ND implies with its point values. The highest tier contains prerequisites, the middle tier contains criteria worth multiple points, and the lowest tier contains criteria worth only one single point.
Many of the criteria are self-explanatory, but a few require additional description. Most of the possible points in the Mixed-Income Diverse Communities criterion come from calculating the diversity of dwelling types as a proxy (it is not an actual measurement of residents’ incomes) plus the inclusion of designated or subsidized affordable housing. The Street Network criterion refers not just to a classic grid layout, but also to block width. Connected and Open Community refers to the physical connectivity of streets and whether the development is open to the public (i.e., not gated)—not to its social connections. Additionally, in many cases, the standards are surprisingly particular. For example, the Walkable Streets criteria expect that 90 percent of entrances face public streets, 15 percent of street frontage has at least a 1:3 height-to-width ratio, ground floors be raised twenty-four inches above grade, sidewalks be at least eight feet wide on mixed-use blocks and four feet wide on all other blocks, and that no more than 20 percent of street frontage may be faced by garage openings. While LEED-ND’s authors claim the criteria should “not be considered a one-size-fits-all policy tool” (USGBC 2012), achieving certification requires developers and communities to adhere to very particular, prescriptive design criteria. Can such specificity create livability for different communities with different preferences and values?
**LEED-ND Neighborhood Pattern and Design Criteria**
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Criteria</th>
<th>Points</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Walkable Streets Prereq</td>
<td>12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Compact Development Prereq</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Connected and Open Community Prereq</td>
<td>4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Walkable Streets</td>
<td>12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Compact Development</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Mixed-Use Neighborhood Centers</td>
<td>4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Mixed-Income Diverse Communities</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Reduced Parking Footprint</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Street Network</td>
<td>2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Transit Facilities</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Transportation Demand Management</td>
<td>2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Access to Civic and Public Spaces</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Access to Recreation Facilities</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Visitability and Universal Design</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Community Outreach and Involvement</td>
<td>2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Local Food Production</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Tree-Lined and Shaded Streets</td>
<td>2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Neighborhood Schools</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>TOTAL</td>
<td>44</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 1: LEED-ND Neighborhood Pattern and Design Criteria. Source: US Green Building Council.
LEED-ND and Livability
According to the most recent Community Preference Survey conducted by the National Association of Realtors, 60 percent of Americans prefer to live in a neighborhood with a mix of houses, stores, and businesses within walking distance of each other; 78 percent responded that the neighborhood in which they live is more important than the size of their house (NAR 2013). But how does one define a “mix of houses” or “within walking distance”? The quest to delineate “livable” and “livability” has been one taken up by planners and designers in an attempt to create successful, thriving, and healthy communities. Embodied in these terms are multiple factors including physical features, psychological associations, and personal preferences.
In the planning literature, there is some common territory around the discussion of livability. Definitions of livability arise out of decades of research that has progressively been incorporated into the urban design canon. According to one portrayal, “livable neighborhoods create lively, safe, and attractive streets, and provide public amenities such as parks, community centers and schools” (Macdonald 2005). This builds on Jacobs’s and Appleyard’s classic 1987 definition:
*Most people want a kind of sanctuary for their living environment, a place where they can bring up children, have privacy, sleep, eat, relax, and restore themselves. This means a well-managed environment relatively devoid of nuisance, overcrowding, noise, danger, air pollution, dirt, trash, and other unwelcome intrusions (Jacobs and Appleyard 1987).*
These definitions imply the importance of physical design in fostering various aspects of livability. Within these definitions, special attention is paid to the pedestrian experience. Bosselmann et al. (1999) concluded with similar definitions of livability, placing an emphasis on safety, privacy, and protection from traffic, pollution, and noise. Bosselmann (2008) pointed out that “the original meaning of livability described conditions in neighborhoods where residents live relatively free from intrusions” (142) but that the term has been progressively broadened to include sustainability, safety, comfort, available services, walkability, and transit. Further, he explicitly differentiates the term from vitality and sense of belonging.
The LEED-ND Neighborhood Pattern and Design (NPD) criteria attempt to address these issues of livability in consideration with the overall sustainability of neighborhoods. The attempt to account for livability is particularly evident in the acknowledgement that “the character of a neighborhood, including its streets, homes, workplaces, shops and public spaces, affects the quality of life” (USGBC 2012, xi). By LEED-ND
definition, a neighborhood is “an area of dwellings, employment, retail, and civic places and their immediate environment that residents and/or employees identify with in terms of social and economic attitudes, lifestyles, and institutions” (USGBC 2012, xvi). By creating development guidelines for streets, public spaces, and services, LEED-ND’s NPD criteria seek to provide guidance for the creation of built environments that can positively impact the social qualities of a neighborhood.
Aranoff et al. (2013) surveyed residents of a relatively wealthy San Francisco neighborhood, generally considered to be highly livable by both residents and canonical urban design standards. The study found that the LEED-ND NPD criteria “fell short of capturing the livability of the area selected” and also discovered “possible deficiencies in the ability of these criteria to truly represent and evaluate neighborhoods … as ‘livable’” (163). The researchers concluded that the neighborhood, though considered to be highly livable by its residents, fails to meet the LEED-ND NPD standards for certification.
For the purposes of our study, we borrowed from the planning and design literature to define livability as the outcome of a set of physical characteristics that foster social stability and equity, personal safety and comfort, low dependence on the automobile, and sense of community. These characteristics include neighborhood pattern, transit proximity, walking access to a variety of amenities, and presence of nature. We have in turn defined sustainability as the capacity of a neighborhood to meet its residents’ needs into the future. This includes consideration of ecological systems, the built environment, social systems, economy, and livability. As noted earlier, the broader LEED-ND certification process, of which NPD is only a part, is chiefly concerned with the sustainability of new developments. However, a community must be livable in order to be sustainable for its residents. Though the topic has been approached in various ways, there is no single empirical definition of a “livable neighborhood.” With this in mind, we sought to determine if the criteria set forth by LEED-ND NPD accurately capture livability and the value of neighborhood characteristics as perceived by the residents of the neighborhood.
**Study Site**
For greater generalizability, Aranoff et al. (2013) called for future research in more diverse settings than their own wealthy central city study site. Accordingly, we selected a study site in the Temescal neighborhood in north Oakland, California. This area is more diverse in terms of race, income, and housing tenure. It saw economic decline during the late twentieth century but has been gentrifying and changing rapidly in the
last decade. Previous research has explored resident attitudes toward livability and LEED-ND but has looked far less at the perspectives of both longtime residents and newcomers in such a rapidly gentrifying, diverse neighborhood. Furthermore, its urban form and land use are that of the traditional neighborhood design that inspired the LEED-ND standards. Accordingly, this study area allows us to both expand from previous research and examine resident preferences in an area which demonstrates the traditional design that LEED-ND NPD seeks to emulate.
The size of our study site is approximately 18.8 acres and was selected to contain a wide variety of traditional neighborhood design characteristics. Temescal was built mostly in the early twentieth century, though its settlement dates back to California’s prestatehood era (Norman 2006, 1999). As one of the oldest neighborhoods in Oakland and an early streetcar suburb, it is a good example of traditional neighborhood design, in that it provides housing, employment, shopping, transit, and civic functions in a compact, connected, and diverse way. The LEED-ND rating system seeks to emulate such characteristics (USGBC 2012).
In recent years, the neighborhood has experienced an economic resurgence and has developed a reputation for its emerging art scene and growing number of popular restaurants. This shift has led to gentrification and an evolving demographic profile in the neighborhood. According to the US Census Bureau, between 2000 and 2010, Temescal experienced a 20 percent increase in its white population and a 24 percent decrease in its black population. Furthermore, the neighborhood experienced a 7.8 percent increase in its median household income.
As previously noted, the Temescal study site lies near two bus lines as well as a BART station. The neighborhood also contains a thriving commercial corridor along Telegraph Avenue with shops, restaurants, cafes, a library, a post office, and a pharmacy. The site is near several public parks and two neighborhood schools. With these characteristics in mind, should Temescal be considered livable? The neighborhood’s proximity to transit and access to a variety of amenities conforms to this study’s definition of livability as the outcome of a set of physical characteristics that foster social stability and equity, personal safety and comfort, low dependence on the automobile, and sense of community.
This perspective, like LEED-ND, focuses mainly on the built environment and land use. It is also important to note sociodemographic and economic factors as this study site is in a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood. Property values are increasing and some long-tenured residents are being priced...
out while new wealthier residents are moving into this transitioning neighborhood. Crime and poverty may be concerns in residents’ minds. These questions of equity, safety, and change are very relevant to the study of livable communities, yet measurement criteria such as LEED-ND tend to pay far more attention to built environment characteristics instead of these less tangible factors. Previous research has not explored resident attitudes toward livability and LEED-ND’s NPD criteria from the perspective of longtime residents and newcomers in such a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood.
Temescal is a transitioning neighborhood whose urban form demonstrates traditional design and livability as defined in the literature and theory that inspired LEED-ND. In the next section, we will perform a series of field observations to see how this traditional neighborhood design scores on the NPD criteria.
**Neighborhood Pattern and Design Calculations**
We calculated the LEED-ND Neighborhood Pattern and Design score for our study area through a series of field observations and measurements to test our [H1] hypothesis. The scorecard is depicted in Table 3. Each neighborhood revealed interesting idiosyncrasies and possible shortcomings when compared to the prescriptive requirements of LEED-ND NPD.
The Temescal study area garnered 25 out of a total of 44 points. The site did not meet the prerequisite for Walkable Streets as it failed to have less than 20 percent of street frontage faced by garages. Approximately 23 percent of the streets were fronted by garages and driveways, which disqualified the study area from certification as a LEED-ND neighborhood. Temescal met the prerequisites for Compact Development, having significantly more than seven dwelling units per acre, and for Connected and Open Community. It should be noted, however, that while the study site specifically met the Connected and Open Community Requirement, areas directly adjacent to the study site would not meet the requirement due to the large distances between through streets.
For the four criteria worth four or more points, Temescal scored highest in Walkable Streets and Mixed-Use Neighborhood Centers, achieving 9 of 12 points for the former and all 4 points for the latter. Temescal only achieved 2 of 6 points for Compact Development because its estimated density was just 13 to 18 dwelling units per acre, caused by the low-rise commercial buildings (two or three stories) and the high number of detached single-family homes. The site only achieved 2 of 7 points for Mixed-Income Diverse Communities because there was no designated
affordable housing within the site boundaries, nor were there any residential buildings of three or more floors. Temescal achieved one point each for Transportation Demand Management, Access to Civic and Public Spaces, Access to Recreation Facilities, Community Outreach and Involvement, Local Food Production, and Neighborhood Schools, and two points for Tree-Lined and Shaded streets.
The Temescal site fails to earn points in several categories. While Temescal has high access to transit lines, LEED-ND requires all bus stops to have covered bus shelters. Due to the lack of bus shelters, Temescal does not achieve any points for Transit Facilities. And while most automobile parking in Temescal is on-street parking, the lack of sheltered bike parking and storage caused the site to lose points in Reduce Parking Footprint. Due to the length of various blocks in the site—410, 420, and 435 feet—Temescal does not achieve any points for Street Network, which requires no blocks longer than 400 feet. Lastly, since most of Temescal’s homes predate the requirements of the Americans with Disabilities Act, we found that the site cannot achieve any points for Visitability and Universal Design.
Resident Survey Design
We conducted an anonymous residential survey in our study area to gather evidence regarding our [H2] and [H3] hypotheses. Do the residents of the study area consider their neighborhood to be livable despite its disqualification from LEED-ND? Do residents rate neighborhood pattern and design criteria differently than LEED-ND weights them? The NPD criteria consist of 15 point-based credits plus three prerequisites. Two of the prerequisites, however, are duplicated in the point-based credits, yielding a total of 16 unique items. The goal of the survey was to determine how residents rate and rank these 16 LEED-ND criteria for neighborhood pattern and design to see how they correspond with LEED’s own implicit rankings of the criteria, as determined by prerequisites and possible points.
Addresses in the study area were randomly sampled to provide a representative distribution of residences in the site. Street blocks were coded by a small character written on the back of each envelope and were in turn categorized by intensity as either arterial-facing, arterial-adjacent, or interior residential blocks. We distributed 100 surveys, all of which were hand-delivered to the selected residential doorsteps. Stamped envelopes were included for return mailing.
The survey consisted of three parts. The first part collected general household information, including number of people in the household, household tenure in that particular location, the name of the neighborhood, owning or renting status, housing type, and mode of typical daily travel. The neighborhood name offers information on consistency between how residents of an area label their community. The travel mode is important as LEED-ND emphasizes reduced vehicle miles traveled and increased access to public transportation. The coding of blocks was used to analyze if there was any correlation between perceptions of neighborhood livability and the intensity of the household’s immediate area.
The second part of the survey collected ratings for each of the 16 neighborhood pattern and design criteria on a five-point Likert-type scale. Prior to rating the criteria, respondents were prompted with the instruction: “Please circle one value on the scale from 1 (lowest) to 5 (highest) below for how important each of these characteristics is to you when considering the livability of a neighborhood in general. We are not asking you to rate your own neighborhood on this scale.” This enabled us to capture residents’ opinions on the value of these criteria in general without asking them to rate their own neighborhood’s livability at this point. In order not to bias or confuse the respondents, the LEED-ND neighborhood pattern and design criteria were slightly rephrased and very briefly described in a short nonjargon sentence.
The third part of the survey gathered further open-ended information to better understand the respondent’s perceptions. First, we asked the respondent to list their three most and three least important criteria. This information disambiguated those criteria that were the most and the least important in the event of several criteria being rated equally very highly or very lowly by the respondent. Respondents were not asked to rank their top and bottom three—rather they were asked merely to identify them.
The remainder of the survey gathered information about the respondent’s perceptions of his or her own neighborhood. Respondents were asked to provide an open-ended answer regarding what they would miss the most were they to move away from their neighborhood—eliciting qualities they consider both desirable and somewhat unique to their current location. Next, they were asked to provide an open-ended answer regarding what they would hope to gain were they to move elsewhere—eliciting qualities or amenities they consider both desirable and somewhat lacking in their current location. Afterward, the respondents were asked to provide five words that best characterize their neighborhood. Finally, they were asked to rate the overall livability of their neighborhood on a five-point Likert-type scale from very unlivable to very livable.
**Resident Survey Results**
We received 43 responses from the Temescal study area, a 43 percent response rate. The housing type data is summarized in Table 4. Temescal has a nearly even split between renters and owners who responded to the survey. Furthermore, the Temescal sample is comprised of a diverse mix of apartment, condo, and detached-home dwellers. These findings correspond to the field observations conducted at the study site, as we observed that Temescal tended to have a diverse range of building types, sizes, and ages.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Percent of Respondents</th>
<th></th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Rent</td>
<td>49%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Own</td>
<td>51%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Apartment</td>
<td>28%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Condo</td>
<td>7%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Detached Home</td>
<td>56%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Other House Type</td>
<td>9%</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 4: Housing type and owning/renting percentages in the Temescal study area.
The respondents from Temescal had high levels of diversity in mode of daily travel, with fewer than half claiming personal automobile use.
These numbers are depicted in Table 5. Respondents in Temescal reported having lived at their location for a mean of 8 years and 11 months with an average household size of 2.5 people, as depicted in Table 6.
### Percent of Respondents
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Mode of Travel</th>
<th>Percent</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Personal Auto</td>
<td>46%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bicycle</td>
<td>12%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Public Transit</td>
<td>26%</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Walk</td>
<td>16%</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 5: Primary mode of daily travel percentages in the Temescal study area.
### Averages
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Category</th>
<th>Value</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Household Size</td>
<td>2.5 people</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Tenure (months)</td>
<td>107.2 months</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 6: Average household size and tenure by arithmetic mean.
Regarding the [H2] hypothesis, Temescal respondents rated their neighborhood’s overall livability on average a 4.16, which falls between “livable” and “very livable” on our Likert-type scale. Interestingly, there was no correlation whatsoever between block intensity and how livable a respondent rated his or her neighborhood. In other words, respondents living along arterial roads rated the neighborhood equally as livable as those living on quieter interior blocks with less omnipresent automobile intrusion.
### LEED-ND NPD Criteria Ratings
The analysis of Temescal’s ratings for the LEED-ND NPD criteria revealed some interesting trends. The ratings appear in Table 7. Overall, residents considered each of the criteria important, with only the Reduced Parking Footprint criterion dropping to levels below the scale’s midpoint of 3.0.
We determined the most common criteria, listed as either the most or least important, by the statistical mode of response where respondents were prompted to list their three most and three least important criteria. Comparing these responses to the weights given by LEED-ND to its NPD criteria, we can develop a sense of how well the weightings correspond with residents’ perceptions of relative importance. These responses appear in Table 8.
Respondents most frequently listed Walkable Streets, Mixed-Use Centers, and Transit Facilities as the most important criteria. Only one of these—Walkable Streets—is in the NPD prerequisites and the high tier of LEED-ND point weighting. Mixed-Use Centers is in the middle tier of LEED-ND weighting with four possible points, and Transit Facilities
is in the lowest tier with only one possible point. Temescal respondents most frequently listed Universal Design, Reduced Parking Footprint, and Street Network as the least important criteria. Street Network is in the middle tier of LEED-ND weighting with two possible points, but Reduced Parking Footprint and Universal Design are both in the lowest tier with only one possible point each.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Criteria</th>
<th>Average Rating</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Walkable Streets</td>
<td>4.51</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Mixed-Use Neighborhood Centers</td>
<td>4.40</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Tree-Lined and Shaded Streets</td>
<td>4.26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Compact Development</td>
<td>4.12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Connected and Open Community</td>
<td>4.02</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Access to Civic and Public Spaces</td>
<td>3.84</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Transit Facilities</td>
<td>3.84</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Transportation Demand Management</td>
<td>3.80</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Local Food Production</td>
<td>3.70</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Access to Recreation Facilities</td>
<td>3.60</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Neighborhood Schools</td>
<td>3.53</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Mixed-Income Diverse Communities</td>
<td>3.47</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Community Outreach and Involvement</td>
<td>3.26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Universal Design</td>
<td>3.26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Street Network</td>
<td>3.23</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Reduced Parking Footprint</td>
<td>2.79</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 7: Average ratings by arithmetic mean for each criterion in the Temescal study area.
Three Most Important Criteria:
Walkable Streets
Mixed-Use Neighborhood Centers
Transit Facilities
Three Least Important Criteria:
Universal Design
Reduced Parking Footprint
Street Network
Table 8: The most and least important criteria in the Temescal study area, determined by statistical mode of response where respondents were prompted to list their three most and three least important criteria.
Length of housing tenure was positively correlated with household size but negatively correlated with most of the NPD criteria, particularly Reduced Parking Footprint. In other words, shorter-tenured respondents generally rated the NPD criteria as more important to them than did longer-tenured residents. This finding is particularly interesting considering Temescal is gentrifying and there is often a contentious nature surrounding neighborhood change. Newer residents report these NPD criteria are more important, perhaps partly explaining why they are relocating to a neighborhood that features traditional design. We also
found that the larger the household, the longer the respondent has lived there and the higher they rated the neighborhood schools criterion. This is perhaps because larger households include school-age children.
The ratings for Tree-Lined and Shaded Streets and Walkable Streets were positively correlated (Pearson correlation coefficient of 0.79). Connected and Open Community and Mixed-Use Centers were also positively correlated (Pearson correlation coefficient of 0.69). These correlations indicate that respondents tended to rate these pairs of criteria highly or lowly in tandem. This possibly raises an argument that they should be present here in urban design as pairs too: alone each may be necessary but not sufficient. LEED-ND NPD does not currently link separate but related criteria together, potentially missing out on these interaction effects.
**Neighborhood Descriptions and Preferences**
The responses to the open-ended question about what respondents would hope to gain if they moved elsewhere were coded and are depicted in Table 9. As discussed earlier, these indicate neighborhood qualities or amenities that respondents consider both desirable and somewhat lacking in their current location. Several common responses are already addressed by LEED-ND NPD. However, several common responses are not currently addressed, even though they exist within the domain of neighborhood pattern and design and largely in agreement with canonical urban design.
Accordingly, these topics may be considered areas of improvement for the LEED-ND criteria. “Quieter communities” could be addressed through urban design and would conform to the classical definition of livability as freedom from intrusion of automobiles. Dedicated bike lanes can be included in neighborhood plans. Furthermore, better views from windows fall under the auspices of development siting. One respondent said he or she would hope to gain “access to regional parks, trees, trails” if he or she to move elsewhere, and another simply listed the desire for “more trees.” Similar open-ended responses included “more nature” and “more open and green spaces.” Although Temescal received full points for the Tree-Lined and Shaded Streets criteria, its street trees and green spaces were inconsistent in some parts of the study area. LEED-ND could perhaps address this by making access to recreation or tree-lined streets worth more points in the scorecard, or change the criteria’s wording to ensure more consistent tree canopy coverage across the entire neighborhood to prevent uneven distribution.
Other common responses contradict the values of progressive urban design, smart growth (Duany, Speck, and Lydon 2010), New Urbanist
principles (Congress for the New Urbanism 1996), and LEED’s organizational goals (USGBC 2012). Conflicting responses include a desire for more space and less density, more parking and wider streets, and more single-family homes with larger yards. Furthermore, there are several common responses that LEED-ND possibly cannot address either because they fall under other policy domains or because they are challenging to control or provide. Several open-ended responses highlighted the changing, gentrifying nature of the community that may
**LEED-ND Addresses**
Walkable stores
Less traffic
More compact
More parks and open green spaces
More diversity
More connected and open
Better transit/closer walk to transit
Local food production
**LEED-ND Does Not Address**
Quieter
Dedicated bike lanes
Better views from windows
More nightlife activity
More space/less density
Better streetlights at night
Better ongoing maintenance
More parking/wider streets
Single family homes/bigger yards
**LEED-ND Cannot Address**
More sociable, sense of community
Less homelessness
Closer to friends and work
Warmer weather to have a pool
Safety/less crime
Affordability
Better schools/government
Better neighbors
Cleaner
Table 9: Responses regarding what residents would hope to gain if they moved elsewhere, indicating qualities or amenities they consider both desirable and somewhat lacking in their current location. Some of the common responses are already addressed by LEED-ND NPD, others are not currently, and others cannot be because they fall under other domains or are difficult to control/provide.
lie outside of LEED-ND’s scope. One respondent said he or she would hope to gain a “lower proportion of yuppies to non-yuppies” were he or she to move elsewhere. Another listed “more diversity of incomes and ethnicity,” and another hoped for a “greater number of sophisticated residents.” LEED-ND could assign more points to the Mixed-Income Diverse Communities criteria to encourage a greater diversity of housing prices and types of residents, but it is probably impossible to regulate resident sophistication and professionalism.
Temescal is a gentrifying, transitioning neighborhood, and crime and safety were commonly cited by respondents. Although these issues rely heavily on wider regional economic trends, policing, and governance, good urban design could also play a role in addressing these residents’ concerns. Numerous survey respondents listed open-ended desirable characteristics including “less crime,” “safer streets,” “less people on streets that dig through trash,” “feeling of safety,” “more safety from crime, especially robbery, burglary, and home invasion,” “respect for public and private property,” “prevailing belief of equal entitlement to [a] clean, quiet, safe environment,” “more people walking at night,” and “better streetlights at night.” The latter two are particularly relevant to this discussion as they could be addressed through supportive urban design and land-use policy, and could fall under the auspices of LEED-ND. For instance, the NPD standards could better promote sufficient street lighting at night as well as support a mixture of schedules to encourage business and social activity through the evening.
Homelessness, schools, and governance rely on complex city systems, economic patterns, and local characteristics and are beyond the reach of prescriptive design criteria. More sociable neighborhoods with a stronger sense of community rely on multiple complex factors that urban design alone cannot dictate (Putnam 2001). Proximity to friends and worksites can possibly be impacted with greater density or mixed-use zoning, but it is also determined by self-selection, the jobs-housing balance, and exogenous factors. However, LEED-ND could perhaps address some of these social or economic traits, at least in part. For instance, sense of community could be promoted by supportive urban design that encourages public activities and mingling on the street. Housing affordability can be supported in part by loosening supply restrictions and building homes for a diverse mix of incomes. Perhaps a more performance-based evaluation system for neighborhood development could better address these social and economic amenities. Future research could explore how to connect livability measures through a combination of prescriptive urban design criteria and socioeconomic performance.
Finally, a text analysis of how respondents characterized their neighborhood revealed trends that conform to our field observations.
Temescal was described as convenient, walkable, diverse, hip, accessible, and up and coming—largely in accordance with its status as a gentrifying and diverse urban neighborhood.
**Discussion**
Our results reveal four key insights worth highlighting. First, highly livable neighborhoods may not be LEED-ND certifiable because they do not conform to specific prescriptive minutiae within the NPD prerequisites. Temescal could not achieve LEED-ND certification due to technical disqualifications, yet the respondents from the neighborhood rated their livability very highly. It is hard to believe that residential garage doors and driveways are a decisive factor in the neighborhood’s sustainability, livability, or vitality. Yet this characteristic proves to be a deal breaker for LEED-ND. This calls into question its role as a set of normative, prescriptive guidelines.
Second, newer residents rated the NPD criteria differently than longer-tenured residents did in this gentrifying, changing neighborhood. The study site’s residents also rated and ranked the NPD criteria differently than the respondents in the study conducted by Aranoff et al. (2013) in San Francisco. This is unsurprising. It may be difficult for a single set of design guidelines to reflect the diverse values and desired amenities of different communities. It thus becomes problematic when LEED-ND’s static weightings of different criteria imply some fixed rank or hierarchy of importance that is to be applied consistently across the evaluated neighborhoods. LEED-ND appears to ameliorate this concern by having a range of possible points for certain criteria and different thresholds (i.e., silver, gold, platinum) of certification based on total point accrual.
However, the absolutism of the prerequisites remains problematic: the percentage of sidewalks intersected by driveways could disqualify a neighborhood whose residents simply do not need or even care about these marginal benefits. This is important considering that LEED-ND certification is increasingly being used to expedite permitting processes, reduce local fees for development, and appeal to prospective residents. Communities that codify these NPD standards may be imposing an inflexible, costly, or perhaps even inappropriate template on their urban form, excluding creative variations and local tailoring. The mandatory nature of the prerequisites makes them particularly normative for communities seeking certification, despite the fact that residents in our study area did not rank these criteria as relatively important.
Third, residents and urban designers seem to largely agree that these criteria are worthwhile, even though the relative value of the
prerequisites does not line up. The respondents consistently rated the NPD criteria highly, with only one criterion (Reduced Parking Footprint) dropping below the midpoint of our Likert-type scale. This is possibly the case because of endogeneity: according to our field observations, the neighborhood exhibits many LEED-ND characteristics, and residents who find these characteristics desirable might self-select to live there if possible. The endowment effect could also be at play as people may ascribe more value to things they already have. However, these same respondents consistently rated and ranked livability characteristics differently than did LEED-ND’s weightings and prerequisites, calling into question its validity as a universally codifiable rating system.
Temescal was rated very livable by its residents, yet it only received 57 percent of the possible NPD points according to our field measurements. We are thus left to conclude that adhering to LEED-ND criteria is not the only path to neighborhood livability. In fact, the criteria may overprioritize certain physical design characteristics that do not reflect livability as perceived by residents. This study has focused on human perceptions of the local built environment, but developers seeking LEED-ND certification may not place as much weight on the quotidian human experience.
Fourth, it is difficult to propose specific universal improvements to LEED-ND because of the second and third points above. Several of the items we identified previously in Table 9 that LEED-ND does not (but possibly could) address—such as more parking, wider streets, and less density—are contradictory to other criteria and to the organization’s larger goals. Furthermore, many desirable neighborhood characteristics—such as safety or affordability—can only be addressed partly by LEED-ND, as discussed, because they fall under other policy domains or rely on larger city and regional systems.
However, LEED-ND could possibly be improved by simplifying its requirements and toning down the doctrinaire aesthetics. Prescriptive design can have unpredictable or undesirable outcomes. Perhaps flexible criteria and customizable point weightings could be tailored at the local or regional level during initial community meetings and charrettes before design work begins. Critics may charge that these would water down the certification’s value and interpretability, but its essential components could be preserved and its weightings could better reflect local and regional values. The prerequisites in particular are currently problematic because seemingly trivial deficiencies could thwart a LEED-ND certification for an otherwise certifiable neighborhood, as was seen in Temescal. Certifications carry far-ranging significance in the minds of city government officials, residents, developers, and investors. Their impacts must be carefully considered.
Conclusion
More and more municipalities are adopting LEED-ND, and it is increasingly being framed in terms of fostering livability. This study examined its NPD criteria and their relationship with livability perceptions. We conducted field measurements and administered surveys in Temescal, a diverse, gentrifying, and traditionally designed neighborhood in Oakland. We hypothesized that:
- [H1]: The study area would be disqualified from LEED-ND certification.
- [H2]: The residents of the study area would, on average, consider their neighborhood to be livable.
- [H3]: The residents of the study area would weight the NPD criteria differently than LEED-ND does.
The preceding analysis provided evidence in support of these hypotheses. Our field measurements and observations confirmed [H1] and the survey provides evidence that supports [H2] and [H3].
Although Temescal was disqualified from our LEED-ND certification for failing to meet a minor technicality within the Walkable Streets prerequisite, its traditional neighborhood design is a general example of the pattern and design that LEED-ND NPD seeks. Its residents prioritized Neighborhood Pattern and Design criteria differently from LEED-ND. The neighborhood was highly rated in terms of overall livability, and respondents on average tended to rate each NPD criterion as at least somewhat important. However, respondents in the neighborhood listed several qualities or amenities that they would be pleased to gain were they to move away from the neighborhood. This suggests that certain factors that contribute to neighborhood livability or desirability are not currently present in the study area. Some of the factors respondents identified are currently addressed by LEED-ND; others are not at present but perhaps should be, while yet others likely cannot be addressed by LEED-ND.
As discussed earlier, LEED-ND is increasingly being wrapped in the language of livability when it is presented to stakeholders. Our findings complicate the sometimes oversimplified question of how to create sustainable and livable communities. LEED-ND risks promising the false hope of environmental and design determinism. A neighborhood’s livability may be influenced in part by its pattern and design—but also by exogenous factors and the wider landscape of city and regional systems. It is impossible to imagine a livable and sustainable neighborhood that
is not supported by a robust infrastructure that extends beyond the neighborhood boundaries. Prescriptive design alone cannot reduce crime or induce walking trips to stores, and it requires more than LEED-ND’s current prescriptions to produce a livable neighborhood. This is not to say that LEED-ND and its goals are bad. Rather, they simply may not be sufficient for all communities seeking to develop a good neighborhood. LEED-ND’s prescriptive nature may also result in communities being designed according to the letter of the law rather than the spirit of the law. An eight-foot sidewalk width or twenty-four-inch elevations above grade may not be necessary or appropriate in a particular neighborhood, yet developers seeking certification must design accordingly.
Ultimately, LEED-ND has stemmed from an attempt to inject environmental awareness into a process that has often previously proceeded with little thought given to sustainability. There is certainly a place for standards that incentivize sustainable development patterns. However, the danger of an overly prescriptive and reductionist system of green development is that communities could lose the ability to imagine innovative and forward-looking designs and ignore highly livable alternative models that already exist but do not conform to the single prescriptive formulation. It also risks losing the heterogeneity of neighborhoods and the freedom of residents to choose the environments in which they want to live and to shape those environments once they have moved into them.
Further research is required in order to determine the role that a codified standard such as LEED-ND can or should play in the development of neighborhoods. Our exploratory results indicate that livability is not always fully or accurately captured by the LEED-ND Neighborhood Pattern and Design criteria. Future research should include a range of neighborhood types and larger sample sizes, and should examine a wider range of characteristics of livable neighborhoods and more flexibility in terms of criteria weight. Such a study might look at age brackets to see if NPD characteristics are valued differently by seniors than by millennials, for example. How can NPD be used as a set of malleable criteria that can be better tailored to different communities’ preferences and different designers’ creativity? It would be useful to survey residents across a spectrum of neighborhood types—for instance, an exurban neighborhood or an impoverished inner-city community that falls far outside common definitions of livability—to understand what is and is not considered livable by different people. Many unsustainable neighborhoods—or even neighborhoods considered totally unlivable by canonical urban design standards—may be considered highly livable by their current residents. What then is the role of LEED-ND certification as either a diagnostic or normative tool? To inform? To judge? To alter? To forbid?
We do not argue that residents’ preferences are inherently good. For example, self-selection into racially segregated, restrictive communities is problematic, and it may be a key role of urban planning to counter such tendencies. However, LEED-ND and its prerequisites risk becoming an absolutist tool that is decoupled from residents’ diverse perceptions of livability. LEED-ND assesses neighborhoods according to certain patterns and designs that are popular among smart growth advocates and the New Urbanist community. However, the diverse values and desires of different communities cannot be captured precisely in a single set of weighted criteria that may produce homogeneity counter to their stated goals. The criteria rely on faith in deterministic design to create aspects of livability that quite possibly rely more on emergent characteristics and exogenous factors of the wider urban and regional system. LEED-ND may be a useful tool for some communities, but it is not presently a sufficient, robust, and flexible measure of livability.
Geoff Boeing is a Ph.D. student studying City and Regional Planning at UC Berkeley. His research revolves around urban form, complexity theory, and the intertwined relationship between normative urban design and emergent features of urban form arising from complex systems. He is also the graduate student instructor for UC Berkeley’s Urban Informatics and Visualization course.
Daniel Church (Master of City Planning, 2015) is interested in urban design, most specifically implementing suburban retrofitting and placemaking as catalytic tools to spur economic development and create more walkable urban spaces.
Lilija Rudis (Master of City Planning, 2015) focuses her research on environmental planning and urban design, particularly how sustainable design and development can be used to create more resilient, equitable, and livable cities.
Julie Mickens (Master of Landscape Architecture, 2014) studies ecological, functional landscape systems in planned communities, suburban retrofits, and urban environments.
Haley Hubbard (Master of City Planning, 2015) is interested in urban design and the policies that shape design decisions, with a specific focus on the design of the public realm.
References
|
Generating and Manipulating Sound
Tools for digital music production
Anton Löf
MFA Interaction Design
Umeå Institute of Design
Umeå University 2017
Table of content
Abstract
Introduction
Goal
Wishes
Target group
Background
Artificial creativity
Instruments
Tools
The platform shapes the art
The DAW
Background summary
Interviews
Alexander | Songwriter, producer and musician
Joel | Producer and sound engineer
Martin | Percussionists and music teacher
Johannes | Music-Technician and writer
Stefan | Researcher focusing on creativity & machine learning
Tistou | Digital -music maker
Interviews summary
Keywords & Questions
Mundane or repetitive tasks
Ideation
Workshop 1
Clustering
Selection 1 | low-fidelity video prototypes
Reflective workshop | Reconnecting with musicians and producers
Selection 2
Workshop 2
Initial concepts
1. Create
Workshop 3 | Body and Mind
2. Tune
Workshop 4
Workshop 5 | Hidden ideation
3. Find
Abstract
Music making and technological development has always been connected. The digital revolution has made advanced music production, writing and distribution tools universally accessible. New intelligent tools built on machine learning are entering the market potentially changing how we create music and interact with creative content.
The aim of this thesis project has been to find alternatives to existing interaction models manifested in modern DAWs (Digital Audio Workstations). Ideas developed through rough sketches and simple prototypes—the outcome consists of three concept videos proposing changes to three moments in the workflow of songwriters and producers.
This thesis started with an idea of exploring the borderland between computer generated music and human creativity. Through desk research and interviews I learned that computational creativity exist and that there is a lot of different ways of defining creativity and art. Creating creative computers should not aim to replace humans creative abilities—it is rather about automating and creating tools that enhance our creative abilities.
To understand how songwriters and producers work the subject were investigated through semi-structured contextual interviews. The different ways of working and using tools were mapped out and potential opportunity areas were identified. This thesis have been a project that through sketching, mock-ups and simple prototypes questions how we use digital tools in music production. These concepts and sketches were continuously brought back to experts for feedback.
The outcome consists of three concepts. They are presented through three short videos. These videos are now shared with a bigger audience and will act as an conversation starter for people interested in tools for digital music production.
1. Automating parts of the songwriting process and create a collaborative workflow between a you and a computer, through a conversational user interface.
2. A pressure sensitive touch surface that let you manipulate sound. It is an adaptive system that automatically detects active controls in your DAW—it maps these active controls from your computer screen down to a touch pad.
3. The third concept changes the way you organise and look for sound files. It is a automatised process where a software helps you compare different sounds to each other. It takes away most labels and focuses on mapping sound according to its auditory profile.
Introduction
This project focuses on developing concepts and ideas for interacting with computer generated sound and explore new ways of working with sound in music production.
Music making and technological development has always been connected. The digital revolution has made advanced music production, writing and distribution tools universally accessible. New intelligent tools built on machine learning are entering the market potentially changing how we create music and interact with creative content.
The project started with the idea of creating tools that bridged the gap between advanced tools used today and new users. There seemed to be a need for tools manipulating computer generated material that would free you from technical constraints. There was two questions to answer.
1. When a computer generated music, how do you as a user or creator remain in control?
2. Is there new or better ways to create music and how can that, in the future, be influenced by artificial intelligence?
I wanted a project that through sketching, mock-ups and simple prototypes questions how we use digital tools in music production. I wanted to bring these concepts and sketches back to a few experts to get feedback on ideas and incorporate that feedback into the creative process.
Goal
To create and explore multiple concepts that offer alternatives to already existing ways of working with sound in music production. The concepts should focus on collaboration between man and machine and allow people to improvise. They should offer alternatives to already existing tools but focus on specific tasks rather than systems.
Wishes
I wish to explore the borderland between computer generated content and human creativity. In that process I hope to find ideas and concepts that somehow change the way we interact with computers and music today. I hope the outcome is ideas for interactions that can make people feel engaged in what they are creating and help them in their creative process.
Target group
The initial plan was to talk to experts but design for new music makers. After desk research and interviews the focus shifted. The projects target group was defined as people with music making experience that are active in the field—design for professional songwriters and producers.
Background
To make informed decisions and get to know more of the world of digital music, time was set aside for desk research. I will here try to give an overview of what I read about, what I learned and point out information that somehow have been influencing the process of this project.
Artificial creativity
The project started with a focus on artificial intelligence and how artificial creativity can change how we create music in the future. No timeframe was defined but the project tried to look at existing technology and trends. A better understanding of machine learning, artificial intelligence and computational creativity was achieved by reading about the subject.
One example of artificial creativity that comes up multiple times in literature was the algorithm based composer. Ryan Blitstein writes in his article Triumph of the Cyborg Composer (2010) about David Cope’s algorithm based composing program Emmy. It have caused quite a lot of debate—can computers be creative? Margaret Boden uses David Cope’s and Emmys work as an example in her anthology Creativity and Art: three roads to surprise (2011) of how we can judge art and creativity coming for machines. There is a lot of opinions and theories about what true creativity is and it is a topic I have—in many ways—been ignoring throughout this project. Something that stuck with me was however the idea that machines are not creative. They are made as a tool with a purpose of create something that we as humans interpret as beautiful. They have in that sense a purpose not in themselves but to create material that gets judge by a human. The human take the final decision and it is often in the performance of a music piece that the art happens—not when it gets written down. Creativity is about taking decisions and combining ideas in new ways.
I did spend time trying to get a better understanding of machine learning in general. To do this I got hold of Pedro Domingos, The Master Algorithm (2015). A popular science book describing the different theories about machine learning and the quest for a self learning algorithm. This gave a broad but very shallow understanding of the field. It did however help to prepare for interviewing Stefan (summary of the interview with Stefan further on in the report) and ask relevant questions during our conversation. In his book Domingos speculates about the future value of human activity and what will happen when more and more things get automated. What if a neural network took your job?
“The best way to lose your job is to automate it yourself. Then you’ll have time for all the parts of it that you didn’t before and that a computer won’t be able to do any time soon. […] If a computer has learned to do your job, don’t try to compete with it; harness it. […] Data and intuition are like horse and rider, and you don’t try to outrun a horse; you ride it” Domingos (2015).
A blog post by F. Brinkkemper—Analysing six deep learning tools for music generation—also helped to getting an overview of experimental tools and how they work. This lead me to the discovery of a London based startup called Jukedeck (n.d.). Jukedeck uses neural networks to generate basic music based on a couple of settings chosen by you as a user. You can there easily generate royalty free music for online videos. It was the first free and easy to use service I found and used during the project.
There are a couple of more examples of computational creativity I found useful. I used these examples while talking to experts about the field of music and its technological development. A company called Intelligent Music Systems are composing and performing in-game music in real time as the game is played. Creating transitions between key themes making the experience more seamless (IMS, 2016). Companies like Izotope are trying to involve machine learning to detect patterns and use existing data of what sounds ‘good’ to help you in your creative process. Mainly through custom—automatically generated presets (Izotope, n.d). Georgia Institute of Technology have experiments showing robotic musicians...
The mouse is therefore one of our music-making tools. The tools of music-making include anything and everything that is used for a musical purpose. (Mooney, 2010)
The project started out with the goal of creating tools for digital music production. An early step was to get a general overview. Many tools used might seem obvious, like music instruments, note writing or microphones for recording. The sheer number of different tools, instruments and gear can be overwhelming. There is constantly new tools being developed—Mooney tries to describe the complexity.
“Nowadays, sequencers and notation software packages, microphones and recording devices, synthesizers, effects processors, and networked technologies (to name a few) are used alongside earlier tools. Throughout history the canon of tools used to compose and perform music has been continuously expanding.” Mooney (2010).
The decision was taken to focus on a basic setup by defining what is the minimum amount of gear you need to record and create music in a digital environment. Not for performing—which would require me to create an instrument—but to capture and manipulate sound files in desirable way. I quickly came across blog posts and articles describing what you need to make music. A common setup—that later was confirmed in interviews—was: headphones and/or speakers, a microphone and/or MIDI device. A sound card for better and more audio signals. You also need a computer running a Digital Audio Workstation (DAW) software. This could in practice just be a standard laptop. It has speakers, a sound card, microphone and the ability to run softwares. Everything from there is more about increasing comfort level or improving the quality of the production.
Instruments
Instruments are in many ways tools for music making. An instrument is an object that produces musical sounds and often allows musician to express themselves musically in real time. Medeiros, Calegario, Cabral and Ramalho (2014) writes about the challenges of designing new interfaces for musical expression. The authors describes one of the major issues—to create an instrument that gets widely adopted by musicians. Digital interfaces for music creation have more freedom than traditional instruments—they can separate input and output effects. This makes it challenging to create an intuitive instruments that can communicate a performance to an audience. The authors called the musical instrument “...more than just the artefact. It invokes the cultural elements that surrounds it. Thus, it is important to understand not only the conjuncture in which the instrument is inserted, but the strategies of adhesion.” Making an instrument is about more than creating an artefact—it can only be judged base on its impact on music itself.
Tools
“The quill and parchment that Bach used to notate The Well-Tempered Clavier are tools of music-making as well as the clavier itself. To draw a modern-day comparison, when interacting with music software we use a mouse.
Improvising together with human musicians (Georgia Institute of Technology, 2010). Some claiming that the musical Turing test (Turing test, n.d.) was passed a long time ago (Buskirk, 2008). Google a.i experiment have published similar experiments and also have two examples of algorithms listening and categorising sound. (a.i experiments, n.d.).
Instruments
Instruments are in many ways tools for music making. An instrument is an object that produces musical sounds and often allows musician to express themselves musically in real time. Medeiros, Calegario, Cabral and Ramalho (2014) writes about the challenges of designing new interfaces for musical expression. The authors describes one of the major issues—to create an instrument that gets widely adopted by musicians. Digital interfaces for music creation have more freedom than traditional instruments—they can separate input and output effects. This makes it challenging to create an intuitive instruments that can communicate a performance to an audience. The authors called the musical instrument “...more than just the artefact. It invokes the cultural elements that surrounds it. Thus, it is important to understand not only the conjuncture in which the instrument is inserted, but the strategies of adhesion.” Making an instrument is about more than creating an artefact—it can only be judged base on its impact on music itself.
Tools
“The quill and parchment that Bach used to notate The Well-Tempered Clavier are tools of music-making as well as the clavier itself. To draw a modern-day comparison, when interacting with music software we use a mouse.
Improvising together with human musicians (Georgia Institute of Technology, 2010). Some claiming that the musical Turing test (Turing test, n.d.) was passed a long time ago (Buskirk, 2008). Google a.i experiment have published similar experiments and also have two examples of algorithms listening and categorising sound. (a.i experiments, n.d.).
Mooney (2010) describes music making tools as frameworks that have affordances. They can either be physical, for example an instrument, or conceptual. Composers or performers engage multiple frameworks to create music and that by doing so brings the affordances of different frameworks into play. These frameworks will influence the final result. “… all frameworks invite the user to work in particular ways and, therefore, every framework will make its influence known, to some extent, in the creative output. One can ‘hear’ the affordances of the frameworks used to compose and perform the music.”
David Byrne describes in his book about popular music—How music works (2012) how “the platform shapes the art”. Disco music is made for a discotheque and it is very hard to escape restrictions and work outside of a given context. It is important to remember the restrictions and biases that exist.
“How music works, or doesn’t work, is determined not just by what it is in isolation but in large part by what surrounds it, where you hear it and when you hear it. How it’s performed, how it’s sold and distributed, how it’s recorded, who performs it, whom you hear it with, and, of course, finally, what it sounds like: these are the things that determine not only if a piece of music works—if it successfully achieves what it sets out to accomplish—but what it is.” Byrne (2012)
Software used within the music making industries are in many ways highly specialised. They give you detailed control over recorded material, let you generate computer made sounds and sample already existing tunes. Abrams et al. (2002) argues that most music tools are borrowing heavily from computer science, much is expressed in technical terms and often in different terms than in classical music theory and practices. This detachment from the intuitive musical concepts and from the musical experience itself, places an cognitive burden on musicians, composers and producers.
The DAW
A big part of how many independent music makers work today is based on what tools they use. One very important part of that is the DAW (Digital Audio Workstation). The DAW is in many ways what a recording studio used to be, now in a digital format. Bell, Hein and Ratcliffe (2015) writes that the modern DAW is no longer just a collection of tools to document a performance.
“It is a creation tool in its own right [...] Most DAWs include a robust suite of instruments, the capabilities to ‘score’ and record them, and the tools to mix and process the results. By the same token, the teams of specialists required to operate an analog studio are rapidly being supplanted by producers working alone, in pairs or in small groups.” Bell et al. (2015).
The DAW has been around for quite some time. In the analog era, there was a distinction between performance and recording. In today’s digital landscape “performance, recording and composition have largely collapsed into a single act.” Bell et al. (2015)
With heavy digital presence tools keeps getting more and more accessible for anyone with a computer and a lot of professional music is now produced independently (Associated Press, 2011). Something that used to be done by large record labels are now made by single individuals working alone. One person now has to be an expert in multiple tools to be able to share their music.
To get a better understanding of the landscape different DAWs were mapped out based on online reviews. Alternative tools that were added and placed into relationship with DAWs (see figure 2 and figure 3).
Background summary
I started with an idea of exploring the borderland between computer generated music and human creativity. I learned that computational creativity exist and that there is a lot of different ways of defining creativity and art. Creating creative computers should not aim to replace humans creative abilities. It is rather about automating and creating tools that enhance our creative abilities. I found examples of different tools and learned that whatever you create—the tool will influence the outcome. Instrument are in many ways tools for musical expression. To design an instrument brings its own challenges and a project focusing on creating an expressive instrument would have to consider performance, how it relates to an audience and the impact it could have on developing music in itself.
A basic setup was defined to represent a general way of working with digital music. While doing so I explored the landscape of tools in general and learned that the digital softwares referred to as DAWs are hugely important to the process. Steps of the classical music making process that used to be divided has in many ways merged together. Much of the work now happens in front of a computer and are performed by single individuals or small groups.
Complex
Instruments Tools
DAW's
Synthesizer
MIDI Tools
Sampling Tools
Band in a box
Garageband
Mobile Apps
Auxy
Medly
Jukedeck
Touchpiano
Turntable
Block Dust
Orbit
Web
Google AI
108
Keezy
Garageband
Sibelius
Flat.io
Note Writing
Microphone
Jukedeck
Pen & Paper
Fig. 3
Mapping tools-instruments
Interviews
To get an understanding of how professionals use digital music making tools the decision to do user studies through contextual interviews was taken. The interviews were mainly expert interviews and focused on finding creative people with a technical relationship to music production. All interviews were semi-structured and focused on meeting people in their environment and ask about their work process. They were also asked to describe the tools they were using. Here follows a short summary of each interview.
Alexander | Songwriter, producer and musician
Alexander is an young songwriter and musician based in Gothenburg. He has a background studying songwriting and is now in the process of creating ten original songs for a licensing company. I met Alexander for a couple of hours in his studio. Alexander has a common setup of tools. He sits alone in a room built to deflect and absorb sound, this is giving him a good environment for playing and recording music. He plays most instruments by himself and sings on most of his songs. On the walls there are a couple of different electrical and acoustic guitars. He has a powerful computer running Apple’s Logic Pro X (DAW) and an external sound card that helps him to get a better sound quality. A microphone and a MIDI keyboard. On the floor an old skateboard and rug. There is quite a lot of cables but all neatly organised.
Alexander describes his work process as 'pretty straightforward’. He has a couple of tools and instruments he is comfortable with and that he wants to continue working with. He likes how he does things but he does get very tired of his own voice. Working alone can sometimes be frustrating so that is why he often tries to collaborate with someone. Sometimes he even hires someone else to sing in his songs. Just so he does not have to listen to his own voice all day.
To write a song Alexander just 'starts somewhere’. Maybe it is a chord progression, a melody or some lyrics. He then starts to improvise and experiment with sound.
Joel | Producer and sound engineer
"When I started I was very concerned using the right tools but the more I work I realise it’s about making something different and interesting. On this track we use the laptop microphone to record the song. Shitty sound but it makes it different from other productions.”
Joel is a producer and sound engineer based in Stockholm. Most of his time is spent alone in a basement storage unit converted to music studio. Joel often works together with an artist and songwriter called Emma. She will usually come to him with a demo of a song. Joel job is to rework
the material into a finished product. He talks about the importance of listening to what you are doing—it is about finding something that sounds unique and interesting. That demands that you take a step back and tries to analyse what you have.
Joel also mentions the importance of improvisation and collaboration. He is not good at himself but he can take creative decisions by listening to the material and work on the recorded clips he and Emma creates together. His expertise is to take a song from demo to ‘professional’ level by using his knowledge about technology and music. Much of my interview with Joel focused on the tools he uses, he explained how he constructs songs and how he quickly gets bored with what he creates only by himself. He constantly talks about finding that sound that is different.
**Martin | Percussionists and music teacher**
Martin was the first one I talked to that was a professional musician but beginner when it comes to using digital music tools. His main occupations is as a music teacher in a town called Uddevalla where he tries to involve digital tools in his daily work with students. Martin recommends an app called The Amazing Slow Downer to his students that lets them slow down songs and try to pick out drum patterns by themselves. Martin also uses Apple Logic Pro X (DAW) to record drum patterns that he then exports and email to his students to practice. He usually does that through the digital drum sets he has at the school.
I talked a lot about MIDI tools and different kinds of hybrid instruments with Martin. He believes that the possibility to play on a ‘regular’ acoustic drum set with added digital elements could be really interesting. Mainly to explore different sounds you then can play in a live setting. It might help bridge the gap that often exist between recorded music and the live performances.
Martins wife and friends is also musicians and often sits at home creating songs and record performances. Sometimes they will ask Martin to work on the percussion or accompany them. He could do it acoustically but prefers to do it by cutting and programming loops in Logic Pro X. He enjoys the process of exploring and playing with the software even if he struggles with the technical nature of the applications.
**Johannes | Music-Technician and writer**
“People in this business tend to have a lot of opinions of how things should be done but all that is just bullshit! Listen to the music. Does it sound good? If yes, great. If no, then change it”
Johannes is a Umeå based music-technician that works with recording, editing and mixing live acts for either radio or cd production. The ensembles he works with are often classical music groups. So it is a traditional workflow of recording multiple takes of a piece and then trying to edit together the best possible version. Often in collaboration with a producer.
Johannes is also a writer in Monitor, a Swedish magazine for audio professional. He therefore have good insights in the business and a lot of opinions. He described how different people—mainly engineers—have different approaches to the tools and software they use. Plugins are common and popular and some copy famous producers settings for certain sounds. This give you the option to apply ‘color’ to your tracks by one single control that might be more descriptive. For example: make the sound heavier. You can not affect how it is made just the amount of effect. And some people love that while others want minute control over everything and are always sitting in some kind of ‘super-expert-advanced-mode’. They want to see and understanding every aspect of the process.
Johannes has a traditional work process similar to how it ‘used to work’ where you have a live act that you try to capture in digital format. It is much more focus on recording multiple performances of a piece and then edit together the best version. Johannes put heavy focus on actually listening to what you are doing and take decisions based on what you can hear. The tools are not important—the end result is.
Stefan | Researcher focusing on creativity & machine learning
“The danger and worry with automation and machine learning within the creative businesses is of course that it will lead to less work for people. It does however open up for the possibility of people just doing more interesting work. We should use computers to help us with mundane repetitive tasks. That’s what they are good at.”
I had a short phone conversation with Stefan. A Dutch researcher that founded the an organisation focusing on how machine learning and computational creativity can influence and help creative businesses. One of the things was the discussion about the dangers and possibility of automation. Stefan says that many fear that more advanced computer algorithms will take over even creative work and leave less work for humans to perform. The advantages of that is of course that it opens up for the possibilities to spend time doing more interesting work.
Stefan also talked about how machine learning was the next step but that the technology so far been focused on other areas. There is not enough money in the creative field for it to happen right now. It will probably take a couple of years.
Tistou | Digital -music maker
Tistou is an amateur digital music maker—among other things—and during the early 2000’s his music made it into an indie game called openTTD. I met with him to get a completely different view on what music making is.
Tistou makes music for his own pleasure. Not the writing and performing part but the end result. He enjoys listening to his own music and he has a good idea of what it should sound like.
Tistou describes the start of his process as an clear melody in his head. Then is just a matter of trying to get it out somehow. He used to use a note writing program to do that. It was challenging because he does not know how to write sheet music. That is the biggest challenge—to get the music out of his head. There is a big knowledge gap but that does not stop Tistou. Once the first part of a melody was written down things became easy. That first piece sparked ideas of how the next part of the song should sound like and Tistou keeps building until he reach a suitable song length. Usually three to four minutes.
Interviews summary
I interviewed five different professional music makers about their process and the digital tools they use. I created simplified flowcharts to visualize their individual processes (see appendix H). I learned that people that spend most of their time working alone talks about collaboration and improvisation as key aspects in their work. The most experienced musician still enjoys to explore new tools but is struggling with more complex technical challenges. It is important to listen to the music you create. I learned that there is possibilities to automate parts of the process. It might free people to do more interesting work.
In my brief I indicate that I would focus more on amateur music makers. Talking to Tistou made me realise that that is a completely different process than the one I learned from more professional music makers. I took the decision to focus on professional songwriters and producers instead of amateur music makers.
Keywords & Questions
The interviews were summarised with keywords that then were reworked into questions that acted as a starting point for the ideation phase. The questions highlighted the different topics and were often used in combination with each other during ideation workshops with other designers. Asking the participants how they could improve some aspect of the work songwriters and producers do.
Collaborate
How do you create a collaborative workflow?
Improvise
How to nurture improvisation?
Explore
How do I explore sound and song structures?
Listen
How do I encourage listening and decision making?
Simplify
How to lower the starting threshold?
Automate
How do I minimise non-creative tasks in the process?
Mundane or repetitive tasks
Visiting professional musicians, songwriters and producers gave insights into their daily work routine. There was a need to specify specific everyday work tasks to focus the ideation around. My own observation helped me to define four areas or work tasks to focus on (see appendix H for visualised work process).
• There is the first recording or creation of a song. Alexander described this as ‘just starting somewhere’. He would sketch out a basic song idea by recording something—either digital or with microphone—and start building from there. As soon as you have some sound you can start explore, improvise and experiment with the material.
• The second moment was based on how Joel described his work. Sitting with a software—in his case Logic and a lot of plugins—adjusting values to get the ‘right sound’ is an important part of his job. That includes adding effects and change aspects of the already existing sound and song structure. This is today happening with a cursor moving around at screen.
• The third is looking for samples or sounds. Martin, Joel and Alexander all spend a lot of time looking for the sound they have in mind. Alexander described it as having something in your head and then just spending hours looking through folders for that thing that sounds similar to your brains imagination.
• The fourth was around listening and taking decisions. Johannes talked a lot about the importance of actually listen to what you have in front of you.
Ideation
Every iteration and especially the first included me sitting at my desk trying to come up with ideas. I did however try to involve other people in my process. These people were mainly classmates and other design students but I tried to keep some of the people I interviewed part of the process throughout the whole project. I will try to highlight important moments and decision from the creative process and give examples of methods used.
Workshop 1
Pen and paper ideation based on selected keyword questions. First workshop was held with two other design students. The goal was to get a wide range of material and bring other people into my own process. The participants were asked to spend 10-15 minutes on each question sketching ideas. The ideas were then shared in the group and followed by a short discussion. The outcome was new unexpected references and ideas. The participants came with suggestions for further research areas and could show examples of existing products dealing with the same kind of issues targeted within this project.
Clustering
Because a lot of the ideas touched on multiple areas clustering and re-alignment of ideas and sketches happened continuously (images of these clusters can be seen in appendix A). Many ideas helped re-define what some of the keywords meant. It also helped to solidify and develop the mundane tasks.
Selection 1 | low-fidelity video prototypes
To get a better understanding of which topics or ideas were relevant—five ideas were selected to be developed into small video prototypes. They were selected to cover a broad area and were based on ideas I felt was most relevant for the project. The fidelity was kept on a low level to make them easy to share, criticise and iterate upon. The five videos were around 30 seconds long and were shot with a mobile phone camera.
These first prototypes aimed to question workflows and re-open discussions with my users. I shared them in a workshop format where they gave me further insights into work processes and helped me keep them engaged during the full duration of the project. (A description of each video and links can also be found in appendix B).
Reflective workshop | Reconnecting with musicians and producers
I reached out to the people interviewed earlier and asked them to look at ideas, reflect and ideate together with me. Three of them responded and agreed to help. Because we could not meet physically an email was put together with short descriptions about the ideas, a link to each video and a couple of question to reflect around. The participants were asked to look at it from their own personal and professional perspective. They were also given examples of directions the concepts/ideas could take—asking how it should be used. Joel agreed to a Skype session where we could go through all the material together. Alexander got a couple of hours to look at the material and we thereafter had a 40 minute phone conversation around the ideas. Martin preferred to look at the material and then return his feedback and thoughts in written form.
1. Turn it into gold >> An audio based interface. Use simple sounds and rhythms to sketch more complex results. The computer picks up your sound, average the result and add sampled beats/sounds to play along with you. You can afterwards tweak the result and complexity of the sound.
How should it be used?
• Use it as a pure sketch tool that’s simpler than midi controls but also give you less control of the end result?
• Make it as a control for already existing material. For example swipe to scroll or knock to confirm an action?
• Focus on improvising together with a computer. You play a pattern and the computer responds?
“I really like this, believe that many songwriters would love something like this where they can sketch songs, hands on and not have to worry so much about the technical details.” - Alexander
“Sure, why not! A bit like jamming with someone, good for playing around. Maybe more for the start of creating a song. Which is not what I’m doing” - Joel
“This is the most interesting to me. A very nice idea!” - Martin
2. Physical interface >> Make a physical interface that focus on controlling DAWs and plug-ins. One or multiple controls for volume, pitch, speed etc. Focusing on tactile feedback and versatility.
How should it be used?
• Manipulating sound?
• Navigating software (DAW)?
• Playing instruments?
“Just felt like another midi interface and there is so many out there. Sure it could be cool but not as interesting because of that.” - Alexander
“It’s so important to be able to close your eyes and listen. You can get so influenced by the visual values and numbers and you forget to actually listen” - Joel
3. Finding Sounds >> Computer sorts sounds based on their auditory values and let’s you quickly search or scroll through the material.
How should it be used?
• Finding sampled beats?
• Finding instruments or sounds?
• Scrolling through already existing songs?
“This I want! You usually have something in your head and you try to find a sound that’s similar to what you have in mind. So if you can find good values to map it according to it could be very useful.” - Alexander
“Yes, exactly. Don’t take the long detour around language. The computer should also be aware of what I might like” - Joel
“Feels very useful. Could decrease the time looking for sound significantly. Interesting” - Martin
4. Making a song >> Generating sound and music based on a set of preferences and references.
How should it be used?
• Direct a computer to create material expressing your wishes?
• Focus on translating your emotions to music?
• Focus on automating self expression?
“Think it could be good for some kind of end client but maybe not for me.” - Alexander
“Has to be super good before it’s useful, then it can revolutionise the market. [...] I would like to be given a couple and the possibility to re-iterate. For example ‘nice, but with less strings and a bit angrier [...] Then I would also like to get separate tracks and full control.’” - Joel
5. Exploring song structures >> Developing the regular timeline (represented in most DAWs). Connecting different parts or previous versions of the same song, making it possible to improvise and experiment with bigger chunks at the same time.
How should it be used?
- Tool for experimentation and collaboration?
- Focus on file management?
- Explorative tool for decision making?
“So I think it could be good but this basically already exists.” - Alexander
“This is not really a problem, if you want to compare things it’s quite easy to just export.” - Joel
Selection 2
A second selection was made based on the feedback from the reflective workshop. There seemed to be three directions that in general got positive feedback and had potential as interesting areas to continue working on.
It was clear that exploring song structures did not suggest anything new—it functions in a similar way to how people already are working. Making a song was lead to interesting conversations and Joel saw possibilities of how it could develop into something interesting—some of his ideas were used in a later concept. It was however taking over too much of the creative process. Martin, Joel and Alexander saw it as a concept or idea aimed at non-musicians.
Selected directions to continue working with were:
1. Turn it into gold
Because of its playfulness and simplicity. Use it for sketching, improvising and collaboration.
2. Physical interface
To shift the focus from visual to auditory decision making.
3. Finding Sounds
Because of its potential usefulness.
The decided directions, the discussion with Alexander, Joel and Martin lead to three directions that related to the earlier defined mundane tasks. In combination they helped to define three initial concepts that were developed further after individual needs.
Workshop 2
Pen and paper ideation based on selected video prototypes. The second workshop was held with one other design student. The goal was to bring in the prototypes and feedback from users and discuss it with other designers. Me and the second designer would watch the videos and in a free open discussion come up with alternative ways or directions the idea could go. We tried to get the ideas to a more detailed level. The desired level of detail was not achieved but the workshop did however broaden the scope and allowed for a discussion about how to proceed with the project.
Fig. 4. Key-Touchpoints
Create
Create a basic form, a demo song or sketch.
Find
Replace sounds with new samples or recordings. Look for sounds to apply to ‘instruments’.
Pick track
Add effects, adjust and tweak the material. Edit and color the sound.
Look through folders or lists with samples
Find what you are looking for or something good enough
Apply to instrument or track
Add plug and/or effects
Generate preset
Tweak and adjust
The full song (mastering)
Initial concepts
Up until this point multiple directions were worked on at the same time—to keep them open and possibly let them bleed over into each other. After selection 2 the ideation got more focused within the three different categories and resulted in three initial concepts. These were therefore worked on in different ways and depth depending on their individual needs.
The initial concepts were developed based on the feedback from users focuses on a couple of key moments in their process and are trying to change—not what they do—but rather how they do it. The idea is to use the key moments/touchpoints as an starting point—see how one or multiple alternative ways of performing the task can change the work itself and how that potentially could affect their overall process. The touchpoints are based on the mundane tasks defined after the interviews in combination with the ideas and concepts that came up during the creative process. Based on my initial plan of the project every concept assumes that the development of machine learning will allow for software intelligent enough to compose and improvise music. I assume that programs will be good and efficient enough to reduce the amount of time we need to spend building presets and organise files.
The concept and touchpoint names changed during the process but for clarity they are now referred to as Create, Tune and Find.
1. Create
**Touchpoint >>** One moment in the process of producing music is to create a base—a first draft. If you are a producer you often get some kind of demo of a song to start with. If you are a songwriter or musician like Alexander you have to create your own demo. Alexander would sketch out a basic song idea by recording something, either digital or with microphone and start building from there. As soon as you have some sound you can start to explore, improvise and experiment. When showing the first turn it into gold video prototype to Alexander, Joel and Martin they all saw possibilities of being more free in their work.
**Initial concept >>** If you could speed up or automate parts of this first part of the creative process and turn it into a collaboration between human and machine—what would then happen? The progression from the first prototype video was to develop a sketch tool based on audio and body language. To—without adding any new gear—interact with sound and music through a microphone. By humming, tapping and singing quickly communicate to a computer what you want to create. One key aspect is to take something from lo-fidelity to high fidelity through this tool.
**Exploration & Prototypes >>** The first turn it into gold video was used as inspiration for the body and mind workshop (workshop 3). The second iteration resulted in a more developed video showing how to sketch a first basic song structure.
The video were created to communicate the idea to other designers during a project midway presentation. The video show a person in front of a laptop. By tapping with hands on the tabletop we slowly hear a base pattern play. Another tapping pattern from the hands and a drum beat starts playing. The person in front of the computer starts humming and electric piano chords start playing and finally a brass section creating a full song. The video trigger enthusiastic discussions with other designers and managed to clearly communicate the concept.
**Workshop 3 | Body and Mind**
A more targeted (bodystorming) workshop with design students focusing on one idea. An empty room was prepared with a table to sit around, a camera setup and a computer with speakers. The designers were asked to listen to three different sound clips and imagine different ways to generate the same sound using their bodies as the only tool. Not to recreate the sound but how they would communicate to a software that this was the kind of sound, beat or melody they wanted to create. This exercise created a couple of interesting ideas around the core concept of using sound as an interactive medium for music creation and production. New questions were raised around possibilities to augment already existing sounds,
using sound as an input or if there is a possibility to create a conversational-user-interface for sound.
2. Tune
**Touchpoint >>** A big part of the work of producers is to fine tune and change aspects of the overall 'sound picture'. Digital softwares allows you to in detail control a wide variety values changing how we perceive sound. It is very common to add effects to recorded material, loops and samplings. This is a part of the process that today demands that you in detail adjust a lot of different values and numbers.
**Initial concept >>** This concept were based on the idea of making the controls of repetitive fine tuning easier and more pleasant. To get away from the screen and use your hands to manipulate sound files. Much based on what Joel said. “It’s so important to be able to close your eyes and listen. You can get so influenced by the visual values and numbers and you forget to actually listen”. If much of the basic effects and plug-ins could be automatically mapped to a modular surface producers could spend their time listening, adjusting values and taking decision instead of moving around a cursor on a screen.
**Exploration & Prototypes >>** Multiple sketches and prototypes were created to explore the tune concept.
The first was a grid of buttons that can be used as regular buttons but also sliders and a touch interface. The feedback you got was sound but also visual. Making this prototype I realised that visual—in this case light—was a distracting feedback.
I looked at different interactive surfaces and created something that focused more on the texture and tactile experience. I created five different cardboard surfaces. In a first initial test I gave a couple of student some of the surfaces and asked them to instinctively come up with ideas of how they could imagine them to work. The results lead to the planning of workshop 5.
To find other ways of creating a surface that focused less on visual input, vibration motors were used—creating a couple of sketches of vibrating ‘pixels’. It was hard to find a way of isolating points good enough to make detectable areas on a solid surface. This lead to the decision to have a neutral ‘dead’ surface and focus on gestures and hand movement as the main way of interacting.
A short exploration trying to combine some of the aspects of the searching prototype (appendix C) with the touchpoint was made. A short video shows someone trying to adjust values and changing the perceived sound qualities of one looping sound file. This is done by selecting and dragging a single dot around on an empty window. Showing the video—together with the searching physical prototype (appendix D)—to other designers spawned a discussion around the future of the project and how to proceed with the different concepts.
**Workshop 4**
Pen and paper ideation. A workshop to once again try to involve other designers in the process. It was held with two other students. The goal was to continue exploring the Tune concept. The participants were shown two common DAW functions. An equalizer (Equalizer, n.d.) and a compressor (Compressor, n.d.). They got explained to them how they work and they could listen to the sound it produced. The participants were then asked to create a physical control that could replace these two functions. The ideas and concepts were shared with the group and a second round began. They were then asked to convert their ideas into a control that could be used blindfolded. The outcome were three different 1:1 scale interfaces that used bigger hand gestures to control what previously been done with a cursor and mouse.
The workshop provided insights and idea of how big a surface should be and the participants came up with metaphors for functions, e.g. twisting, dragging and pushing.
**Workshop 5 | Hidden ideation**
The tactile paper surfaces gave insights into possible ways of interacting with sound through a touch interface. I invited design students to blindfolded control an equalizer—actually controlled by me—to see if it was possible to do so without any visual feedback. I videotaped and asked them to verbally explain what they tried to do while testing the prototype. It worked as a hidden ideation session. Them explaining what they were doing as I tried to follow along in a software created a gesture language that later could be used in the concept. It also lead to the realisation that some kind of visual aid might be necessary.
3. Find
**Touchpoint** >> Martin, Joel and Alexander all spend a lot of time looking for the sound they had in mind. Alexander described it as having something in your head, you know it is gonna work and then you just spend hours trying to find it. You get better at this with experience. You learn what you like to use and you figure out a system to organise your work. Looking for sounds is something they spend a lot of time doing. Often by navigating folders of soundfiles.
**Initial concept** >> A concept based on a technology demonstrated by google in their ai experiment bird sounds (Bird Sounds, n.d.). The feedback on the first prototype video was very clear. Looking for the right sound and organising your library is time consuming and inefficient. If there is any way of automating parts of the process that would be greatly appreciated. The base of the concept is to utilise the computer’s ability to go through and structure large amounts of data. If the user can quickly scroll through material, structured and displayed in a spatial representation—then the user can take informed decisions.
**Exploration & Prototypes** >> One prototype were created as a development of the first initial sketch video finding sounds. It consist of a small program where sound clips can be organised and triggered by moving a mouse over a grid of dots. For the two first attempts of organising sound, random files found online was used. To get better feedback, Joel was asked to send some of his sound libraries. Access to more commonly used kinds of sounds allowed me to structure them in ways that later could be tested with Joel. This lay the groundwork for creating another video prototyped that was shared with Joel, Martin, and Alexander during the evaluation phase of the project.
A short exploration trying to combine some of the aspects of the tactile surfaces explorations (appendix C) with the first video sketch finding sounds was also created. Showing the video—together with the adjusting prototype—to other designers spawned a discussion around the future of the project and how to proceed with the different concepts.
Evaluation
To evaluate the concepts and process touchpoint the three initial concepts were shared again with Joel, Martin, and Alexander. Three video prototypes were put together to explain the concepts—only the create concept stayed static. Through conversation the concepts were explained, what they were about and how they could be traced to the earlier ideas. We watched the video prototypes together and they were asked to reflect on the content and its usefulness.
The feedback was in general positive. All three had potential to be good tools and were quite different from existing tools. A couple of concerns were raised around technological feasibility.
Here follow a description of each video, the general feedback it got and a short conclusion for each concept direction (video links can be found in appendix E).
1. Create
This was the same video shared with designers as in the initial concepts stage. The video shows a person creating a song in front of a laptop.
“A very useful tool for people that quickly needs to share ideas and concepts without spending 200 hours on production. A lot of songwriters are bad producers. They could really use something like this.” - Alexander
“The danger is that you lose control of what you create. It has to (technically) work very well to be great.” - Joel
“Very interesting, maybe even a possibility to combine it with the Tune concept? I would like to be able to choose in the beginning genre. Maybe I want to do something rock based or RnB. I want to get the choice in the start. I believe it can be a very good way of testing ideas. Maybe not for the whole production but somewhere to start.” - Martin
Conclusions >> Easy to understand concept that works better for songwriters than producers. Concerns raised around technical feasibility and detailed control. Make sure you quickly can create something, export it and then bring it into the regular workflow.
2. Tune
The video shows a topview of two hands and a thumbnail view of a screen based interface. The hands starts to control an equalizer and are in real time adjusting levels. A second clip shows the same setup now with a distortion function. A coffee cup is placed on the surface and it is also affecting the sound.
“Really likes the idea! Logic has started to release ‘smart’ controls that simplifies and reduces the amount of settings. This is maybe something that could work well together with that sort of workflow.” - Alexander
“Might be a bit to general right now. Techies like to be able to adjust everything. Has to be very intuitive to work well. Imagined a screen from the start but this is maybe better.” - Joel
“Also very interesting, but I think it may take longer to learn as well as longer for the computer to learn how I want it to work. Otherwise, it seems very nice to get rid of small controls with mouse pointers.” - Martin
Conclusions >> A concept that has to work in unison with existing DAW functions. It should probably be represented in a physical product to better communicate that. Need to create a clear connection between screen and hands to better show how it could work.
3. Find
The video shows an empty screen. A text field appears and someone writes drums. A small amount of dots appear and someone moves the cursor above them. They play different types of drum sounds. When one of them is selected a new grid of dots appear and the cursor is now exploring the sounds. Eventually one is finally selected displaying detailed information of what sound it is and how many times it been used the last 12 months. It also highlights three similar sounds to use instead.
“Really good. Like the speed and possibility to roughly categorise large amount of samples. To be able to compare sounds is the real selling point.” - Alexander
“I want more details to get even more use out of the tool. Also want the possibility to search on genres and years. Might work as a search engine for sound. Could be cool to have access to collaborative online libraries.” - Joel
“The third idea is probably the one that got me most excited because I am currently experiencing a real problem. I have a sampling pad (Roland SPD-SX) where I insert different drum samples or loops. It comes with a software to the path that you enter the different samples in. It’s quite difficult and time-consuming especially as I have many different samples on my computer. For example, if I want a special crawl space for the sampling path, I’m currently looking for lots of different folders and files to find the right one.” - Martin
Conclusions >> The concept that got Alexander, Joel and Martin most exited. A clear usecase and the feedback focused mostly on adding details in how sounds are represented.
Final concepts
After the evaluation the decision was taken to deliver three final videos. They should be seen as video prototypes rather than concept or presentation videos. They were developments based on the previous evaluation videos and some of the concerns raised in the feedback was dealt with in the refinement process. Some issues were consciously ignored to make the videos more clear in their message. They are otherwise refined versions of the evaluation videos. Made to better communicate the idea. The videos were developed through storyboards (see appendix G).
Up until this point most things were kept on a rough and basic level to quickly and easily produce material. Form decisions and the look of the final delivery are based on a couple of key decisions. To present three concepts on an equal level—the decision was taken to show them with similar look and feel. It was also decided to bring the concepts back to an environment that the users would recognize. Instead of offering alternatives in the aesthetics of the products the decision was taken to try to blend into the existing set of tools available. A moodboard helped form this look (see appendix F). Some of the screen based interfaces mainly consist of simplified elements borrowed from existing DAWs.
The project outcome is three concepts focusing on three different moments in the workflow of songwriters and producers. It is taking these three moments, look at how to perform a specific task and change—not what you do—but how you do it. The concepts consist of three short videos. They are presented together with a similar look and feel but focuses on a specific task and concept. The concepts should propose alternatives to existing interaction models manifested in modern DAWs.
Selection 1
Ideas selected and turned into short video sketches. Shared with users.
Selection 2
More defined directions based on feedback from users.
Exploration
Simple sketches, prototypes and the occasional workshop to explore chosen directions further.
Evaluation
Video prototypes made to share and evaluate in discussion with users.
Final concepts
Developed versions of the evaluation videos ready to share with a larger audience.
1. Create
The create concept is a conversational user interface (CUI). It allows you to interact with sound and music through a microphone. By humming, tapping, and singing communicate your musical ideas to a computer. It is a way for you to improvise and collaborate together with a software. Write a simple song and export its individual parts.
It consists of a software capable of detecting musical patterns, composing original music and perform it through sampled sound in realtime. You as a songwriter will be in charge of taking decisions, giving commands and leading the creative process. You can improvise but you will never have full control. It is a collaboration and you must adapt.
The concept tries to find a less technically challenging alternative to digital softwares used in a songwriting processes. It focuses on automating parts of the process and create a collaborative workflow between you as a user and the computer. It does that through a graphical user interface (GUI) and voice commands (CUI).
A dialogue is created through text between user and the software. The software makes it clear that it is actively listening by writing “I’m listening” and displaying a big microphone icon. It is now up to the user to give a command. In the video the user starts out by asking for a drum beat. The GUI displays a constant ‘chat log’ writing out what it hears and also communicates its own decisions. The user starts drumming on the tabletop and the software detects a pattern. It starts overlaying (auditory) its own newly created drum beat as it continues to update the chat log. The user can then continue working on the project. Adding new material by asking for it or once again sing and hum something that could be re-created by the software. You can export the project when you have something that you are happy with. That allows you to bring the material into your regular (DAW) workflow.
2. Tune
The tune concept is a pressure sensitive touch surface that let you manipulate sound. It is an adaptive system that automatically detects active windows and controls in your DAW—it maps the active controls from your computer screen down to the touch surface. The software predicts your hands intention and let you adjust, tweak and fine tune sound by larger gestures. It consist of a product, the touch pad and a software plug-in for your DAW.
The concept aims to simplify many of the basic DAW functions and automatically map them to a modular surface. This could free producers to spend their time listening, adjusting values and taking decision—instead of moving around a cursor on a screen and look at numbers. The goal is to make repetitive fine tuning easier and more pleasant for the user.
The video shows someone working on a looping sound clip, with their hands on a big rectangular plate. A screen based interface shows a window with an equalizer (Equalizer, n.d.), a common device used within music production (the function and they way it is represented is borrowed from Apple’s Garageband (DAW)). The screen also shows a small window with a simple rectangular representation of the touch pad. The rectangle lights up showing how equalizer controls are mapped down to the touchpad. As the user moves his/her hands over the surface the screen based graphics reacts and you can hear the changes to the looping sound clip. When a new type of function is opened, this time a compressor (Compressor, n.d.), the screen based touchpad representation lights up and divides the new controls. The user is free to jump between any controls and the touch pad will be linked to the current active control.
3. Find
The find concept change the way you organise and look for sound files. It is a automated process where a software helps you compare different sounds to each other. It takes away most labels and focuses on mapping sound according to sound profile. This makes you as a producer stop relying on memory or 'knowledge' and instead focus on listening. The concept aims to help the user listen and take decisions—to help them find what they are looking for.
It consist of a software that is capable of listening to large amounts of sound files—example of technology taken from google a.i experiments (Bird Sounds, n.d.). The video shows someone searching for drums. The software then goes through libraries of files to find sounds that somehow can be associated with the drum tag. That can be either samplings of drums or other sounds that have a profile the software judges to sound similar to percussion instruments. It will display a first selection with different categories of drum sounds. The software does that by drawing a grid of dots. When a cursor is moved over the dots a correlating sound file are played—allowing the user to quickly scroll through all soundclips. As soon as the cursor is moved away from a dot the sound will stop. When the user find a sound he/she prefers they will select the dot linked to the sound category by double clicking on it. The software will now display a second grid of dots with sound audibly closer to each other. The sounds are now mapped according to their different qualities (e.g. frequency distribution). The user can now on a more detailed level search for the specific sound they had in mind. When a decision is made he/she can highlight the chosen sound and get more detailed—and more regular information about the sound. The software will also keep track of which sounds you used and highlight similar/alternative sounds.
Reflections
I started this project with two questions and a specific goal, I wanted to know:
- When a computer generated music, how do you as a user or creator remain in control?
- Is there new or better ways to create music and how can that, in the future, be influenced by artificial intelligence?
Through this thesis I got to answer parts of these questions but the project itself drifted away from them. My expectations did not always correlate with reality. Apparently machines have created music for a long time—that is not really an issue. It is people's relationship to this music that makes this topic interesting and somehow problematic. When I did my interviews I tried to talk about machine made music, I brought examples of how it could be done and how it could be used. People I interviewed were however very sceptical and even told me they were scared of losing their jobs because of technological development. The one example that got the most positive response was the Intelligent Music Systems (IMS, 2016). It is a company that developed software for creating “real-time, procedural game music”. It was an example from a very different context than my interviewees were used to.
From reading The Master Algorithm (Domingos, 2015) and talking to Stefan I learned that automating parts of the process might free people from repetitive tasks and help them do more interesting work. I took that concept to my heart and it had a big influence on my process. I do believe that is why some of my ideas and concepts was so much more attractive to Alexander, Joel and Martin. They saw how these tools could help them in their work but not take over the creative parts in their music making process.
It might be worth pointing out that the project constantly been operating within a Western-European-popular-music context. Mainly because of my own background, access to people and the focus of my interviewees work.
**Instruments >>** When I began the project I often got the question if the outcome of the project would be some kind of musical instrument. I was more interested in the technical mundane reality of music creation. That is why I reached out to producers and music technicians—but instruments are also tools for music creation. In a discussion with Alexander he mentioned the vast number of tools available for a music creator like himself. He believed there is tools out there that would help him a lot in his process but he is not very interested in finding them or learn how to use them. It is too much work and he wants to focus on the things he already know. Mastering tools takes years and we have a tendency to focus on the ones we already know. This was also one of the main reasons I did not want to create another instrument. Medeiros, Calegario, Cabral and Ramalho (2014) paper Challenges in Designing New Interfaces for Musical Expression influenced me a lot in that decision. To create a instrument you need musicians to master it and many musicians pick up an instrument because some music utilizing that instrument made an impact on them. Music and musical instruments should probably come from musicians themselves and not be based on design. A project focusing on developing an instrument could be very interesting and I believe a lot of NIME’s (New Interfaces for Musical Expression) could benefit from a design perspective. It would however been another kind of project focusing on close collaboration with musicians and instrumentalist.
**DAW >>** I wanted a project that somehow question how we use digital tools in music production. I wanted to offer alternatives. My final concept/prototype videos are closer to a traditional workflow than I expected. I did learn that the DAW is very important to digital music creation and it is within that framework a lot of the work happens. There is a wide variety and individual differences between the different DAW’s and I never learned or even saw them all. I had to trust my contacts to describe what they were doing
and try to create my own understanding from that. Final result are more like complements to the common DAW instead of completely new ways of working with music. My final result are still on a concept level and undefined in their functions and inner workings. That has made it easier to share with musicians and will hopefully help me keep the conversation alive in the future.
**Sketching & Prototyping >>** I said that my goal was to create and explore multiple concepts that offer alternatives to already existing ways of working with sound in music production.
The aim was to do this through low-fidelity prototypes, mockups and sketches. It lead to many small iterations and allowed me to constantly have something to show to other people. I wanted to bring these concepts and sketches back to a few experts to get feedback on my ideas and incorporate that feedback into the creative process. Because many of my tests and discussion were done over long distance video was used extensively. I have in this report tried to at least mention most of my sketches and prototypes. Not all were useful or lead to a concrete decision but they have all played an important role in the project. To keep them on a unfinished level has helped me use them more as discussion pieces in my conversations with users or fellow designers. It was however difficult for anyone to actually experience my ideas. Presenting and testing everything in video form—made it hard to judge the usefulness of my final result. It seems to be good but no one can experience the tool in first hand. Some kind of experience prototype would be very important next step.
**Result >>** Presenting my final result a couple of questions were raised from examiners and advisors. These question focused more on how machine learning is used and how the three different concepts related to the topic.
The create concept is closest to what I had in mind starting the project but also the one that my interviewees hard the hardest time to relate to. Some people have called it a design fiction and I am not sure about its technical feasibility. Looking at services as Jukedeck (Jukedeck, n.d) and Intelligent Music Systems (IMS, 2016) has made me convinced that it is only a matter of time until regular computers can start creating music in realtime. It has however proven difficult to find a good way to evaluate or determine a credible timeframe. It has been useful for sharing and the idea seems to attract attention at least opening up for discussion of what is a desirable tool in relation to music making.
The tune concept focuses more on how machine learning can affect the controls you use for manipulating sound. It looks at how you can change the physical controls of a computer. In many ways inspired by equipment like the sensel (The Sensel Morph, n.d.) or wacom boards (Wacom Global, n.d.). The goal was to come away from the visual and focus on auditory values. It still relies on a screen based user interface and the concept video struggles to explain how the device is intended to be used—making it difficult to evaluate.
The find concept is the one that Alexander, Martin and Joel all reacted to the best. It has a useful application—utilizing existing technology and do not interfere to much with the creative process.
**Future work >>** The project is now at a stage where my concept videos can be shared and I have slowly started doing so. I wish to reach out to more people and present the work. Hopefully the project and its outcome can serve as a base for discussion around alternative ways of experiencing sound and music.
References
Appendix A
Clustering
Apendix B
Sketch videos
Turn it into gold
https://vimeo.com/206047560
Video shows two hands drumming on a tabletop. Soon a sampled drum track starts playing in tune with the tabletop drumming.
Physical interface
https://vimeo.com/206047536
Video shows a piece of wood, a rubberband and a wire. A constant humming sound can be heard and a hand enters the frame. When the rubber band gets pressed down or bent the sound changes character.
Finding Sounds.
https://vimeo.com/206047460
Video shows a big piece of paper with black dots on. A hand enters the frame and starts moving over the surface. Random sounds get triggered as the hand moves.
Making a song
https://vimeo.com/206047499
The video shows a paper based interface where a hand moves into frame. Two sliders are adjusted. One showing time and one beats per minute. Two music genres are selected and a loading screen appears. After a short delay a piece of music starts playing.
Exploring song structures
https://vimeo.com/206047448
The video shows a fragmented horizontal timeline and a vertical line moving along it. Different fragments are connected and a piece of music plays in the background.
Apendix C
Explorations 1
Light Grid
https://vimeo.com/210899577
A grid of buttons that can be used as regular buttons but also sliders and a touch interface. The feedback you got was sound but also visual.
Tactile surfaces | Exploration
https://vimeo.com/210927604
Three people tried five different surfaces. The surfaces were made with different colors, textures and sizes to explore what people would relate to trigger different senses.
The video shows how people freely touch and talk about how they could imagine to use a flat surface with different kinds of textures.
Searching
https://vimeo.com/215633268
A small program loading 300 sound files and displaying small dots in a grid. When the cursor hovers over a dot a correlating sound file triggers and plays.
Vibrating pixels 1
An exploration in creating a paper surface with tactile feedback similar to the light grid setup. A flat paper surface with vibrating spots or ‘pixels’. Four vibration motors would be set of randomly and a person had to try to pinpoint where the vibrating spot were. It was hard to tell exactly where the vibrations originated which lead to a second sketch.
Vibrating pixels 2
A second attempt to create a surface with vibrating ‘pixels’ or spots. The vibration motors were mounted on four separate foam-rubber pieces. The separation made it easier to distinguish where the vibration originated but it was still imprecise and ambiguous in its feedback.
A video prototype exploring how the concept behind searching could be used for other ways of interacting. Here trying to adjust values and changing the perceived sound qualities of one looping sound file. This is done by selecting and dragging a single dot around on in an empty window.
A video sketch exploring how the concept behind searching could be used in a different medium. Here in combination with the tactile surface. The video shows a flat paper surface and a hand slowly moving a finger over the surface. As the finger moves different sounds are triggered and played.
Appendix E
Evaluation videos
**Create**
https://vimeo.com/210899577
A video showing a person creating a song in front of a laptop (see appendix B).
**Tune**
https://vimeo.com/210900910
The video shows a topview of two hands and a thumbnail view of a screen based interface. The hands start to control an equalizer and are in real time adjusting levels. A second clip shows the same setup now with a distortion function. A coffee cup is placed on the surface and it is also affecting the sound.
**Find**
https://vimeo.com/210898373
The video shows an empty screen. A text field appears and someone writes drums. A small amount of dots appear and someone moves the cursor above them. They play different types of drum sounds. When one of them is selected a new grid of dots appear and the cursor is now exploring the sounds. Eventually one is finally selected displaying detailed information of what sound it is and how many times it been used the last 12 months. It also highlights three similar sounds to use instead.
Apendix F
Moodboard
Apendix G
Storyboard
Appendix H
Interview process flowcharts
Martin Frennberg | Creative
Martin Frennberg | Work
Johannes Oscarsson | Traditional
Demo → Experiment → Collaborate → Listen → Repeat
General | Producing
Create Form → Smart Drums → Improvise → Chord Progression → Baseline → Melody → Listen
General | Songwriter
# Appendix I
## Time schedule
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>January</th>
<th>February</th>
<th>March</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>03</td>
<td>04</td>
<td>05</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>06</td>
<td>07</td>
<td>08</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>09</td>
<td>10</td>
<td>11</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12</td>
<td>13</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Research</th>
<th>Ideate</th>
<th>Prototyp</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Kick off</td>
<td>Research review</td>
<td>Half-way presentation</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Aesthetic research tutoring Jonas Sandström</td>
<td>Aesthetic value tutoring Jonas Sandström</td>
<td>Aesthetic w Jonas Sanc</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Focus on contextual interviews and secondary research</td>
<td>Quick iterative loops with focus on making rough prototypes and bringing back to users for feedback</td>
<td>Simple prototypes to take ideas to a more defined level</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Every friday, write report and document work</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Kick off Research review Half-way presentation
Process gateway
Aesthetic research tutoring Aesthetic value tutoring
Quick iterative loops with focus on making rough prototypes and bringing back to users for feedback
Focus on contextual interviews and secondary research
Every friday, write report and document work
Simple prototypes to take ideas to a more defined level
Make something that you can present to the world
Communicate the result
Prototype Refine Communicate
presentation Process gateway Report Examination
Aesthetic value tutoring Jonas Sandström Style and story Demian Horst
Note: The diagram shows a timeline from February to June with phases labeled 'Prototype', 'Refine', and 'Communicate'. |
How artists create: Creative process and multivariate factors☆
Marion Botella a,*, Vlad Glaveanu b, Franck Zenasni a, Martin Storme a, Nils Myszkowski a, Marion Wolff a, Todd Lubart a
a Laboratoire Adaptations Travail Individu (EA 4469), Université Paris Descartes, Paris Cité Sorbonne, 71 Avenue Edouard Vaillant, 92100 Boulogne-Billancourt, France
b Department of Communication and Psychology, Aalborg University, Kroghstræde 3, 9220 Aalborg, Denmark
A R T I C L E I N F O
Article history:
Received 3 May 2011
Received in revised form 18 February 2013
Accepted 24 February 2013
Keywords:
Creativity
Artists
Process
Semantic analysis
Activity theory
A B S T R A C T
This study sought to identify the factors that artists consider important for their creativity and to reconstruct, from interviews, the stages of their creative activity. For this purpose, 27 interviews with professional artists were analyzed using a double approach. First, a quantitative analysis of interviews and associated self-report questionnaires was performed. Second, a qualitative coding grid was applied to a representative subset of the interviews to uncover stages of activity and the interaction between creator and the material and social world. Results are discussed according to the multivariate approach and in light of activity theory and its emphasis on situated, goal-directed and meaningful action. Findings concerning the creative process and the factors involved are finally considered with respect to teaching creativity and art.
© 2013 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
1. Introduction
The visual arts have traditionally been treated as a major domain of creative activity and were the subject of some of the first empirical studies of creativity, such as Patrick’s seminal research (Patrick, 1935, 1937). Creativity, defined as the ability to produce new and adapted ideas to a situation (Sternberg & Lubart, 1999), has been traditionally represented in terms of four components: the person, the process, the press and the product (Ekvall, 1999; MacKinnon, 1978; Mooney, 1963; Plucker & Renzulli, 1999; Rhodes, 1961; Richard, 1999; Runco, 1999). In this article, the Four Ps are examined through interviews with artists, paying attention to the creative person and process and trying to answer questions such as: which factors are involved in artistic creativity, which personal characteristics could differentiate artistic activity (gender, artistic domain, artistic experience), and how do artists describe their creative process? Engaging a double analytical perspective – semantic and qualitative analysis – we aim to study the creative person and creative process simultaneously, which represents a first attempt of this kind and contributes to the originality of the present investigation.
Concerning the person, the multivariate approach to creativity describes four main components of interest: cognitive, conative, emotional and environmental factors (Lubart, Mouchiroud, Tordjman, & Zenasni, 2003). Particular attention was also granted here to the creative process as a form of activity or action (Dewey, 1934). For example, observing the artistic creative process, Getzels and Csikszentmihalyi (1976) identified a problem formulation stage (pre-drawing activity) and a problem solution stage (drawing and feedback activities). Various moments or phases of the creative process have been investigated using several theoretical frameworks and methodologies, and the research presented in this report adds to this growing body of work.
2. Creative person
The profile of creative people, artists especially, has been extensively studied (Batey & Furnham, 2006; Feist, 1998; Furnham, Batey, Booth, Patel, & Lozinskaya, 2011). However, the cognitive, conative, emotional and environmental characteristics of creators were mainly investigated separately in the past. According to the multivariate approach, the creative person is defined by a combination of cognitive, conative and emotional components associated with favorable environmental conditions (Amabile, 1983, 1996; Gardner, 1993; Lubart, 1999; Lubart et al., 2003; Sternberg & Lubart, 1991, 1995).
The cognitive component corresponds to the intellectual abilities involved in creativity. Lubart et al. (2003) proposed a summary of cognitive capacities including synthetic capacities of identification, definition and redefinition of the problem. Also, selective encoding permits the selection of relevant information for solving the problem. The selective comparison ability helps one to observe similarities between various domains. In addition, the creative person makes associations between the ideas collected (selective combination).
Several researchers have proposed an elaboration–evaluation cycle in which ideas are perpetually generated and judged (see Bonnardel, 1999). These cognitive capacities favor the emergence of a creative solution.
The conative component concerns personality traits and motivation. Creative individuals are usually described as open to new experiences (Barron, 1969; Feist, 1998; Furnham & Bachtiar, 2008; Gough, 1979; MacKinnon, 1965; McCrae & Costa, 1987; Wolfkraft & Pretz, 2001; Zenasni, Besancon & Lubart, 2008). Openness is reflected in a dynamic fantasy life, esthetic sensibility, emotional awareness, need for originality, intellectual curiosity, and a strong personal value system (Helson, 1999). Creative people are also tolerant of ambiguity (Barron & Harrington, 1981; Levy & Langer, 1999; Sternberg & Lubart, 1995; Tegano, 1990; Zenasni & Lubart, 2001, 2008). In a meta-analysis of personality traits for scientific and artistic creativity, Feist (1998) showed that artists are characterized by: openness to new experiences, fantasy, and imagination; and a lively, ambitious and nonconformist nature.
The emotional component of the multivariate approach corresponds to emotional traits and states (Botella, Zenasni, & Lubart, 2011a; Zenasni & Lubart, 2008). For example, emotional clarity and the capacity to perceive feelings are positively related to creative performance (George & Zhou, 2002). Also, emotional intelligence allows for a better perception of the emotional environment, thus favoring creative outputs. Examining the link between emotional intelligence and creative personality, Wolfkraft, Felle, and Koster (2002) observed a high correlation in the two (r = .36 to r = .55, p < .01). In artistic creativity, Feist (1998) indicated that artists, compared to scientists, tend to be more emotional, anxious, emotionally unstable and to have a strong sensibility.
Finally, the multivariate approach emphasizes the environment which offers physical and/or social stimulations and can help the generation and maturation of ideas, thus reinforcing motivation (Lubart, 1999). The environment includes the appreciation of creativity through social judgment. For Sternberg and Lubart (1995), creativity involves more than a sum of all these components: certain constituents can partially compensate each other. For example, a strong degree of motivation can mitigate a lack of knowledge. These components interact among themselves: the combination of high intelligence and strong motivation may enhance creative performance in a multiplicative manner. Thus, the multivariate approach focuses attention on the various constituents involved in artistic creative activity and aims to examine the interactions between them.
In addition to the multivariate approach, some personal characteristics, such as gender, age or creative domain, have also been examined. For example, there is no gender difference when it comes to the creative performance (Bae & Kaufman, 2008; Kogan, 1974). However, males and females are not equal in terms of their tendency to experience life events. Tieso (2007) showed that females feel emotions more intensively and experience more life events with their senses than males do. Moreover, as noted in Feist (1998), creative people present different personality traits according to the creative domain. In this regard, years of artistic experience could explain personality differences between younger and older artists (Botella, Zenasni, & Lubart, submitted for publication). In the present study, the creative person was examined through the lenses of the multivariate approach, with personal characteristics of artists (gender, age, artistic experience) taken into accounts.
3. Creative process
In addition to the multivariate approach to the creative person, a focus on the creative process refers to the study of “the succession of thoughts and actions that lead to original and adapted ideas” (Lubart et al., 2003, p. 85). In this regard, the creative process refers to the application of the creative ability of the person to a creative type of production.
Originally, the first model of creative activity was based on introspective reports of eminent creators and described four main stages (Wallas, 1926):
1. preparation, based on exploring the problem and acquiring knowledge;
2. incubation, characterized as a period of latency and subconscious activity;
3. illumination or the “Aha! moment”, in which the sudden appearance of a creative solution takes place;
4. verification, in which the validity and utility of the solution are being tested.
From the mid-twentieth century, cognitive approaches to the creative process focused on revealing the psychological mechanisms that make creativity possible. For example, the Geneplore model (Finke, Ward, & Smith, 1992) highlighted the generative and exploratory phases. The generative phase concerns the construction of mental representations (preinventive structures). These structures take the form of various mental patterns, forms, category exemplars and mental models as well as verbal combinations (Finke, 1996). Following their generation, the exploratory phase allows these structures to be interpreted and thus leads to creative insights and discoveries. Recent models have expanded the interaction between generation/selection processes and searching/retrieving relevant information for solving problems (Bink & Marsh, 2000). However, the creative process involves more than cognitive components alone (Botella, Zenasni, & Lubart, 2011b) and is not exclusively individual-based. The creative person cannot be separated from his or her environment or particular situation and an adequate model of creative process needs to take into account features of the social and material world.
Defining creativity as an action or a type of action (Dewey, 1934; Leont’ev, 1978) allows us not only to observe the articulation between psychological functions and their externalization, but also brings a new emphasis on the temporal dimension of creative processes and thus facilitates the analysis of stages in creative work. These original conceptions concerning human activity were developed by different theorists belonging mostly to the cultural or socio-cultural orientation in psychology (Boesch, 1997; Cole, 1996; Wertsch, 1998). For them, human activity is goal-directed (intentional), symbolic (mediated by systems of signs and tools), and situated (related to a specific context). When analyzing activity one needs to pay attention to its systemic nature, the stages and types of actions and operations it incorporates, each with its set of goals and sub-goals. Understanding the creative process in terms of a series of actions has therefore a number of benefits for the psychology of creativity (see also Sawyer, 1995). First, it situates creative processes and observes their relational nature. Second, it calls for an articulation of different elements and levels of analysis and moves the focus from the creative individual to the ‘in between’ space of creator and environment, creator and society. Finally, it leads to a more comprehensive view of these processes in their double psychological and behavioral manifestation. As such, the action and multivariate approaches can be related and contribute mutually to understanding creativity. In the present study, stages in the creative process were identified through a qualitative analysis of artists’ discourse.
4. Aim of the study
The purpose of this study was to examine the factors engaged in artistic creativity and to describe the creative process based on artists’ narrative accounts of their work in order to advance our understanding of creativity in art, a type of knowledge that can be put to practical use including in the teaching of art. Concerning the person, the multivariate approach to creativity emphasizes the combination of different components involved: cognitive, conative, emotional and environmental. Based on the conceptualization of the creative process as a form of activity (Cole, 1996; Wertsch, 1998), we constructed a framework for
analyzing the interviews, the stages of activity and interconnection between creative work and the material and social environment of the artist.
The more specific objectives of this study were: (1) to explore the ways in which professional artists describe their work and identify favorable or unfavorable factors for artistic creativity, (2) to examine the personal characteristics that can explain differences in their accounts of artistic activity (gender, artistic domain or artistic experience), (3) to understand further the factors involved in the production of art through the use of a questionnaire, and (4) to differentiate the stages of creative artistic activity.
Professional artists were interviewed in order to investigate factors influencing artistic creativity and to understand the creative process as expressed in artistic activity. For this purpose, the present study is based on the spontaneous discourse of artists regarding the cognitive, conative, emotional and environmental components that can influence their creativity and the stages of their artistic activity.
5. Method
5.1. Participants
The sample consisted of 27 professional artists, who make a living based on their artistic activity. The sample included 18 men and 9 women. On average, the artists were 46 years old ($m = 46.36$ years; $sd = 8.71$; range = 30–66 years). They had considerable artistic experience ($m = 22.8$ years; $sd = 7.35$; range = 5–35 years) and enjoyed institutional recognition (by galleries, art centers, FIAC or the International Fair of Contemporary Art, and/or by the superior establishments of art education such as university art departments or art schools). The artists were engaged with various domains of the arts: 8 painters, 7 digital artists (photography, video, and net-art), 6 sculptors, 4 multidisciplinary artists, and 2 draftsmen. All participants were French with the exception of two (Spanish and German) who were also fluent in French and were French residents.
The qualitative part of the project, aiming to uncover the stages of creative activity, was based on interviews with a subset of the sample ($n = 12$) given the laborious nature of qualitative analyses (see Gaskell & Bauer, 2000). This subgroup reflected the characteristics of the total sample and consisted of seven male and five female respondents, with mean age of 47 ($sd = 9.03$) and mean work experience of 23.5 years ($sd = 13.75$). Within this sub-sample, 5 artists were engaged in sculpture, 4 in painting (with some overlaps), and 3 in photography, video or drawing. All of them were French artists.
5.2. Material
5.2.1. Interview guide
The interview guide included 17 questions organized in four sections (see Table 1 for examples): (1) a general presentation of the artist; (2) a description of his/her artistic activities (works); (3) a reflection on the creative process which included a description of their approach to creating and description of their most creative/successful productions; and (4) a description of the artist’s status in society. To avoid generalizations and vague descriptions, the third part of the interview guide was based on the critical incident technique that invited participants to describe a very creative activity (Flanagan, 1954).
5.2.2. Questionnaire
To estimate factors involved in artistic creativity, a questionnaire was constructed based on the F-JAS (Fleishman Job Analysis Survey; Fleishman & Reilly, 1992). This survey is especially used in work psychology to assess the capacities and traits relevant to a job (Fleishman & Mummford, 1991). Based on the F-JAS structure, the factors potentially involved in creativity according to the literature on the multivariate approach were described. Factors were proposed by a group of 10 researchers, experts in the creativity field (active published researchers), in order to generate a new questionnaire measuring 39 characteristics: 10 characteristics corresponded to the cognitive component, 13 to the conative component, 10 to the emotional component, and 6 characteristics corresponded to the environmental component. As in the case of the classic F-JAS, every characteristic was accompanied by a short definition. For example: selective combination is defined as the capacity to associate two elements of information which, together, allow generating new ideas. Participants indicated on a 7-point scale the importance of each characteristic for their creative activity (from 1 = not important to 7 = very important). This questionnaire was constructed for this study in order to explore factors involved in the artistic activity. The response rate was good (85% of return rate corresponding to 23/27 artists).
5.3. Procedure
An appointment was made with the artists, by e-mail or by phone, during which the study was briefly presented. Then, artists were interviewed in their studios or their homes, allowing them to show their artworks if they wished. Before starting, the interviewer presented in detail the research and its objectives. The interviews were semi-structured and lasted for 90 min on average ($m = 34$ min; range = [72–143 min]). All interviews were recorded with the consent of the participants (with guaranteed anonymity), then transcribed verbatim with the inclusion of onomatopoeias, pauses, etc. At the conclusion of the interview, the researcher administered the questionnaire and invited the artists to complete and return it using a pre-stamped envelope at their earliest convenience.
5.4. Methods of analysis
5.4.1. Semantic analysis
Based on Propositional Discursive Analysis (PDA; Ghiglione & Blanchet, 1991), Cognitive–Discourse Analysis (see Ghiglione, Landré, Bromberg, & Molette, 1998) considers units of people’s discourse. In this study, the Tropes software (Version 8.0, 2011) was used to conduct content analyses. This type of analysis is currently employed in various disciplines, such as ergonomics (Visser & Wolff, 2003; Wolff, Burkhardt, & De la Garza, 2005) and clinical psychology (Poussin, Blattier, Le Quang, & Monti, 1997; Wolff, Gatigno, & Adrien, 2005, 2009) because it reduces the subjectivity of the research process.
Various linguistic indicators defined the discursive style used by the speaker. The style was identified by comparing the discourse to “linguistic production standards”. Stored in the dictionaries of the software, these standards were obtained by analyzing a large number
Table 1
Samples of questions from the interview guide.
Section 1: General presentation of the artist
- How would you present yourself briefly?
- Did you have a specific education in art?
Section 2: Description of his/her works
- What kind of artistic works do you produce mainly?
- Do you have preferential tools, mediums, supports or materials?
Section 3: Thinking about the creative process
- Can you describe how you create a production?
- Do you consider that there are several stages in your creative work? If yes, could you describe what these stages are for you?
- According to you or others, what is your most important, most original and most creative work? Can you describe how you created this particular work?
- What was the starting point of this production? What was the place of the inspiration in your work?
Section 4: Place of the artist in the society
- As artists, do you think of having to make something new, original, or never seen previously?
- What is the proportion of your time which you dedicate to issues related to the administration and promotion of your work?
of different texts (interviews, press articles, novels, etc.). In the current study, all interviews were argumentative, confirming the fact that all collected interviews were comparable (belonging to the same style) and that artists focused on argumentation rather than a simple description of events or situations. An argumentative style reveals that the subject makes a commitment, argues, explains or criticizes and generally tries to persuade the interlocutor.
At the level of semantic analysis, Tropes contains dictionaries including more than 300,000 semantic classifications and 20,000 reference universes (Piotat & Bannour, 2009). The predefined word classifications, called “reference universe”, corresponded to concepts and related terms that are theoretically close. Every universe consisted of a set of semantic equivalents which can be modified or completed by the analyst according to the operational language used (“coded” language used by the same community and not easily understandable by others outside the community); as such, a reference universe included names, verbs, adverbs, adjectives and connectors (subordinating conjunction).
All reference universes adopted for the analysis of a certain corpus in Tropes form a scenario. Thus, the scenario of the interviews was built by both the semantic universes supplied by Tropes and through the modifications and/or additions made “manually” based on the analyst’s knowledge of the speakers’ operational language. For this study, according to the methodology used in previous research (Visser & Wolff, 2003; Wolff, Gattegno, & Adrien, 2005; Wolff et al., 2009), a standard Principal Component Analysis (PCA) was used to determine if personal characteristics (e.g. genre or level of experience of the artists) account for differences in discourse.
5.4.2. Qualitative analysis
Complementing the semantic analysis, a qualitative coding of 12 interviews from the general sample was performed. If semantic analysis strives to eliminate subjectivity from the process of analysis, thematic coding (see Attride-Stirling, 2001) depends, to a larger extent, on the skills and appreciation of the analyst, while being firmly grounded in the narrative material under investigation. This was achieved through the construction of a framework that is at the same time data and theory driven. In this case, the theoretical background was offered by activity theory with a special focus on the stages of action and their interconnection to aspects of the material and social world.
The global themes that guided the construction of the framework had been initially those of ‘action’, ‘material world’ and ‘social world’. In addition, ‘motivation’ was also coded (the needs and goals of the creator) as well as ‘obstacles and difficulties’ faced while working. As mentioned before, the goals of the actor are important for activity theory and so is everything that goes against their realization. Finally, ‘emotional outcomes’ were also considered, as a result of advancing through the different stages of the creative process and facing the inherent challenges of each work phase. This basic structure was inspired by the work of John Dewey (1934), an American pragmatist who conceptualized artistic creation in terms of a continuous cycle of doing and undergoing; acting on the world and ‘taking in’ the reaction of the world to one’s doing.
However, the final framework was also data driven and, after applying it to the first three interviews, the categories where enriched with subcategories and their definition clarified. For example, new codes were created to capture the ‘undergoing before doing’ aspect which comprised artists’ preparation for creative work (e.g., university training, visiting museums and exhibitions, and paying constant attention to the surrounding environment). ‘Undergoing the final result’ was also a distinctive aspect commented on by respondents. This included the reaction of the artist to the finished work of art and his or her evaluative judgements concerning it. Finally, the ‘action’ code was broken into a series of sub-codes referring more directly to stages of the activity, procedures employed while working, the time and place of working and the materials used in the creative process.
The analysis started from the verbatim transcription of the interviews and was aided by the qualitative software Atlas.ti (allowing text annotation but not generating codes or initiating their application). To ensure consistency in coding, and as a supplementary measure for subjective bias reduction, all interviews were double coded and the overall agreement between coders was 93% (the instances of disagreement were then settled in light of the framework and its definitions). After the analysis phase was completed, all quotations were retrieved and summarized by the second author for each one of the codes. The outcome is a schematic representation of artistic activity outlining its main stages and relating them to the social and material contexts of creative work.
6. Results
In the semantic analysis, as the first step, the universes of reference were extracted and particular attention was paid to facilitating and inhibiting factors based on the multivariate approach. Second, a principal component analysis was conducted to examine the presence of personal characteristics in the discourse of artists. Third, the analysis of the discourse was examined based on questionnaire data. Finally, qualitative coding was used to explore the artistic creative process as a type of activity.
6.1. Semantic analysis
6.1.1. Universes of reference
The Tropes software allows counting automatically the most frequent semantic references which appear at least three times in the set of interviews. Once the semantic references were generated, we added the operational language to complete the scenario. Finally, we created a scenario composed of nine main reference fields: facilitating factors, inhibiting factors, creative process action, creative process cognition, artistic education, social world, art world, art work and material.
The facilitating factors universe grouped terms that had a positive impact on the artists’ creativity according to their discourse. This universe involved cognitive components (intelligence, knowledge or memory, etc.), conative components (curiosity, spontaneity and sincerity, etc.), emotional components (satisfaction, happiness, frustration, or anger, etc.) and environmental components (space, luminosity, need to be alone, in a “bubble”, etc.).
Inhibiting factors referred to the environment and features such as constraints, codes, rules, risks, finances and deadlines. The multivariate approach was also relevant in terms of cognitive (contradictions, illusions and uncertainties, etc.) and emotional components (fear and guilt, etc.). Nothing mentioned in the artists’ discourse made reference to conative components as an inhibiting factor. Failure, abandon, destruction, and stagnation were also referenced in this universe.
Creative process/action referred to the succession of actions leading to creative production. This universe included specific terms in the artistic domain such as “to brush”, “to outline” or “to paint”, etc. It also included the notion of do-it-yourself, round trip, trials, tests and experiments. Creative process/action referred also to the executing, realizing, manufacturing and gesturing to create a production. This universe included also the finalization, presentation (e.g., at exhibitions) and validation of work.
Creative process/cognition concerned the succession of thoughts ending in a production. This universe included the combination of ideas, assembly, association and metaphors, etc. The emergence of an idea was perceived as a shock, hallucination, revelation or spark which appears from nowhere. Some artists spoke about the famous “Eureka” experience. This universe corresponded also to planning, elaborating, preparing and searching for ideas or information.
The interview guide invited artists to describe their education: some were self-taught and others attended art schools. Their level of study varied (e.g., bachelor’s degree, master’s degree, and PhD).
Sometimes, the artists received training in other disciplines such as architecture, chemistry, history, engineering or sciences. All these references belonged to the universe of artistic education.
The social world included the personal and professional environment. The personal environment was composed of friends, life partners, family and close relations, etc. The professional environment consisted of assistants, directors of photography, customers, collectors, art critics, gallery owners, public and visitors.
The next semantic universe consisted essentially of descriptive references which do not imply a reflection of the artist. The art world designated exhibitions, conferences, and private shows and concerned the professional universe in which the artists evolve. In addition, this universe made reference to mediums (fine art, paint, calligraphy, and music, etc.), kinds of art (abstract, self-portrait, representational, narrative, etc.), the artists themselves (creator, plastics technician, etc.), and references to other artists (Picasso, Monet, Bacon, etc.). The art work universe indicated the form of the output (square, cubic, geometrical, graphic, etc.) and its material support (frame, paper, board, painting, etc.). Material grouped tools (scissors, glue, pencils, Internet, hand or computer, etc.), and materials (wood, metal, color, or paint, etc.) that made artistic work possible (performance, play, result, product, picture and works, etc.).
6.1.2. Facilitating and inhibiting factors
Conative components did not appear among inhibiting factors. In terms of facilitating factors, the artists mentioned primarily three components (cognition, conation and emotion). The reading of these sub-universes had to be clarified according to the multivariate approach. The number of references made for the three sub-universes during every interview was calculated. First, this number was examined with regard to the sum of the three sub-universes (percentage by line with the sum by line equal to 100%, see Table 2).
The line percentages indicate that when the artists spoke about factors facilitating their creativity, they mentioned equally the cognitive (39.07%), conative (28.13%) and emotional components (32.8%). However, when artists evoked factors inhibiting their creativity, they spoke mainly about emotional components (77.24%).
Additionally, the number of references to the 3 sub-universes during every interview was examined with regard to the sum of facilitating and inhibiting factors (percentage in columns, see Table 3). Results indicate that cognitive and conative components were essentially mentioned as being favorable to creative work (respectively 82.72% and 100%, respectively). The results were mixed for the emotional components (favorable 54.22% and unfavorable 45.78%).
6.1.3. Principal component analysis (PCA)
A standard PCA was conducted on the data provided by Tropes. First, an analysis of the variables showed the reference fields evoked by the artists, in association with the Word categories that characterize their descriptions. Second, the interpretations of this first analysis were related to individuals’ characteristics. Six active variables were involved in the construction of the axes: facilitating factors, inhibiting factors, creative process action, creative process cognition, education and social world. Three supplementary variables did not intervene in the construction of axes because they were descriptive in nature: art world, art work and material. Although the descriptive variables were not involved in the construction of axes, they were useful for the interpretation. The three axes accounted for 73.08% of the variance of the initial protocol. For each characteristic, Z-scores were calculated to compare groups based on gender, art domain and experience.
Results showed that women talked more about their education (Z = 0.37) and their social world (Z = 0.67) than men did (Z = −0.19 and −0.34 respectively). In terms of the art domain, there were five categories: painters, sculptors, draftsmen, digital artists, and multidisciplinary. Results indicated that the digital artists and sculptors talked relatively more about the facilitating factors (Z = 0.28 and Z = 0.54 respectively) and creative process cognition (Z = 0.83 and Z = 0.33 respectively), whereas painters referred less to these universes (Z = −0.50 and Z = −0.67 respectively). Painters mentioned preferentially the material (Z = 1.07), the creative process action (Z = 0.56) and art work (Z = 0.14). Sculptors talked more about their education (Z = 0.59) and less about their social world (Z = −0.28); on the contrary, multidisciplinary artists referred more to their social world (Z = 0.56) than to their education (Z = 0.13).
Finally, the art experience variable consisted of four levels: (a) artists with less than 10 years of experience in art, (b) artists with 10–19 years, (c) artists with 20–29 years, or (d) artists with more than 30 years of art practice. Results indicated that artists with 20–29 years of art experience talked about inhibiting factors (Z = 0.59), the art world (Z = 0.32) and moderately about their social world (Z = 0.06), whereas artists with more than 30 years of art experience referred more to facilitating factors (Z = 0.54) but somewhat less to the creative process cognition (Z = −0.11). Also, artists with less than 10 years of experience mentioned their education (Z = 1.01) and moderately the creative process action (Z = 0.06). Finally, artists with more than 30 years of experience in art talked more about their education (Z = 0.16) and their social world (Z = 0.29) than others groups and other universes.
6.2. Questionnaires
The artists’ discourse allowed factors important for their creativity to be extracted. Results from the questionnaire data offered additional information for the multivariate approach. Descriptive analyses indicated that the cognitive component was the most important (m = 5.69; sd = 0.83), more than the conative component (m = 4.94; sd = 0.54), the environment (m = 4.80; sd = 0.91) and, finally, the emotional component (m = 4.30; sd = 0.62). “Selective combination” appeared essential for artistic creativity (m = 6.39; sd = 1.16) (Getz & Lubart, 2000) (see Table 4 for more results). Also, “self-criticism” allowed to begin to estimate the work and to envision possibilities of improvement (m = 6.35; sd = 0.83).
In contrast, according to the artists, the social aspects were not essential for their creativity: sociability (m = 1.91; sd = 0.83) and extraversion (m = 2.87; sd = 1.69) were not seen as especially necessary for creation.
To complete these results, a correlational analysis between the average rating on each component of the questionnaire and the frequency of the reference universes revealed two links: the more the artists estimated that the cognitive component was important for their creativity, the more they talked about the creative process cognition universe (r = .52, p < .05); and the more they considered the emotional component in the questionnaire, the more they mentioned the creative process action universe (r = .50, p < .05) and
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Facilitating factors</th>
<th>Cognition</th>
<th>Conation</th>
<th>Emotion</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>m = 5.69; sd = 0.83</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Inhibiting factors</td>
<td>m = 4.94; sd = 0.54</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>m = 4.30; sd = 0.62</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>m = 6.39; sd = 1.16</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>m = 6.35; sd = 0.83</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>m = 1.91; sd = 0.83</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>m = 2.87; sd = 1.69</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 2 Percent in line (references to cognitive, conative and emotional components according to the sum of these 3 sub-universes).
| Table 3 Percent in column (references to facilitating and inhibiting factors according to the sum of the facilitating and inhibiting factors). |
|------------------------|------------------------|------------------------|------------------------|
| Cognition | Conation | Emotion |
| Facilitating factors | 82.72% | 100% | 54.22% |
| Inhibiting factors | 17.28% | - | 45.78% |
| 100% | 100% | 100% |
Thus, the three groups differed significantly in the way they referred to creative process cognition ($r = -.44$, $p < .05$).
A cluster analysis identified three groups (see Fig. 1). The artists of the first group ($n = 7$) considered that the four components of the multivariate approach were equally important. This group comprised a well-balanced number of artists from every domain (one painter, one sculptor, one digital artist, one draftsman, and two multidisciplinary artists). The second group ($n = 7$), including mainly painters ($n = 4$), estimated that the cognitive component was the most important ($Z = 0.41$), compared to the conative ($Z = 0.10$), the emotional ($Z = -0.29$), and finally the environmental one ($Z = -0.62$). The last group ($n = 9$), including 4 digital artists, evaluated the cognitive component as most important ($Z = 0.72$) whereas the emotional components ($Z = 0.70$) were less so and conative ($Z = -0.03$) and environmental components were situated in the middle ($Z = 0.07$). Thus, the three groups differed significantly on cognitive ($F(2, 23) = 1.69$, $p < .001$), emotional ($F(2, 21) = 1.43$, $p < .001$) and environmental components ($F(2, 23) = 2.67$, $p < .001$) but not regarding their appreciation of conative components ($F(2, 23) = 0.08$, ns).
### 6.3. Qualitative coding
Qualitative coding and the analysis of quotations for each of the action codes were useful in reconstructing the activity flow as depicted by respondents. Before presenting the general stages of artistic creative action, it is important to note that the observations that follow result from an effort of generalizing what has been said (see Fig. 2), and therefore may not reflect each individual interview.
The motivation or impulse of artists, the starting point of any form of activity, was intrinsically linked to the need ‘to make’ (to build, to give form) and to ‘handle’ different materials. Artists were also motivated to create, transform and experiment, to “generate a surprise” through their work. Finally, another category of motives related to a need to express and communicate (“a narrative desire”). The elaboration of such a strong motivational basis had a history, often one leading back to the years of childhood when several of the respondents where already engaging in arts and wanting to become an “artist”. Such undergoing before doing was completed by formal education and by constant attention paid to the surrounding universe and the works of others. “The first stage [of a work of art] is life”, said one of the participants, and through this reflected a general opinion that artists had to always be receptive, like “sponges”, impregnated by things and people. “Encounters” took place not only with people, but also with ideas, during exhibitions, reading, watching the cinema, walking, walking, etc.
Overall, art making activity seemed to involve six distinguishable stages:
1. The creative process began with an idea or a “vision”. This first creative idea comes after a period of void, of wandering and could be triggered by an image, a sight, a sound that resonates with what had “matured” inside the artist for a long time. These initial ideas were general in nature and they became more “specific” or “concrete” during the next stages. Artistic visions were often not personal, but interpersonal; they required the look of the other from the very beginning, especially partners and close collaborators. Social forms of undergoing played an important role from the start and the opinion of “significant others” remained a crucial point of reference throughout. Finally, a strong emotional component accompanied the first stage. Getting an idea was both exciting and pressuring for the artist, who then became engaged in what was often a long-term project.
2. A second phase was documentation and reflection. Most visions were incomplete and needed careful consideration that amounted to an “incubation” phase. At this stage, artists sometimes needed to gather more information about the materials and technologies required in order to turn their vision into reality. A potential obstacle in this regard had to do with the incapacity to visualize, to capture the essence of the future work of art. This was close to the notion of a lack of inspiration, a “block”, something that could intervene in subsequent phases as well. Concerning the time and place of working, respondents discussed the irregularity of creation, the fact that one cannot have a schedule, cannot force inspiration or have “office hours”. Whereas artists tend to be constantly thinking about their project, the usual working place was their studio.
3. The third moment was represented by the first sketches, first attempts at giving the project a material form. This can overlap with documentation or be postponed depending on how the artist worked. Some liked to immediately draw their project, some waited to make a “model”, such as a clay version that requires more elaboration. This also raises the issue of the materials and tools employed for artwork. Unsurprisingly, artists engaged usually plenty of materials from watercolors or acrylic, oil colors and brushes to wood, metal, plastic, fiber, ink, cardboard, glass, etc.
The repertoire of work procedures based on repetition, multiplication, permutation, inversion, simplification, variation of the medium and many others similar techniques.
4. After sketches, there was normally a more or less extended period of testing the forms and ideas that originated from reflection and preliminary work. Missing adequate tools or materials was a common difficulty encountered at this stage. Also, forms of material
### Table 4
Descriptive statistics for the most and least important factors based on the questionnaire data.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Component</th>
<th>Item</th>
<th>M</th>
<th>SD</th>
<th>Min</th>
<th>Max</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Cognitive</td>
<td>Selective combination</td>
<td>6.39</td>
<td>1.16</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Self-criticism</td>
<td>6.35</td>
<td>0.83</td>
<td>5</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Search for sensations</td>
<td>6.27</td>
<td>1.10</td>
<td>4</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Openness to new experiences</td>
<td>6.22</td>
<td>1.17</td>
<td>3</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Risk-taking</td>
<td>6.17</td>
<td>1.27</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Intrinsic motivation</td>
<td>6.17</td>
<td>1.34</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Individualism</td>
<td>6.13</td>
<td>1.29</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Cognitive</td>
<td>General intelligence</td>
<td>6.09</td>
<td>1.24</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Perseverance</td>
<td>6.04</td>
<td>1.11</td>
<td>3</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Cognitive</td>
<td>Selective comparison</td>
<td>5.91</td>
<td>1.54</td>
<td>2</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Cognitive</td>
<td>Divergent thinking</td>
<td>5.91</td>
<td>1.08</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Emotional</td>
<td>Emotional expressiveness</td>
<td>3.78</td>
<td>1.81</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Emotional</td>
<td>Emotional regulation</td>
<td>3.74</td>
<td>1.69</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Humility</td>
<td>3.65</td>
<td>1.67</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Environmental</td>
<td>Important events</td>
<td>3.64</td>
<td>2.22</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Agreeableness</td>
<td>3.57</td>
<td>1.78</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Warmth</td>
<td>3.55</td>
<td>1.51</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Extrinsic motivation</td>
<td>3.39</td>
<td>1.44</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Need of closure</td>
<td>2.87</td>
<td>1.63</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Extraversion</td>
<td>2.87</td>
<td>1.69</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Conative</td>
<td>Sociability</td>
<td>1.91</td>
<td>0.83</td>
<td>1</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
undergoing came to the fore. Artists were very “tactile”, open to the “physical, sensorial, sensible properties of space” and required the dialog, the “confrontation” with the art object. Knowledge of physical properties was important for respondents who needed to know how materials “react”, how they can be “used” and what is a misuse of a certain material. The object “posed a question” to the artist, not the other way around, and participants enjoyed this aspect. The emotions stirred by artistic work were diverse (joy, pain, melancholia), but mainly positive, reflecting an immense “pleasure of making”.
5. These tests, of making and remaking, ended up in provisional objects, “drafts” and almost-finished products. This stage required working on the details of the work, perfecting its features, adjusting it to the context of presentation. A common obstacle had to do with the failure of the material support, the negative surprise of having the object melt, crack or even break completely. Undergoing the final result at this stage invited evaluative judgments by the artist whereas some argued that artistic work is never “done”, never complete. Art objects can “return” to their author to be reworked later.
6. It was also often the case for a first object to be followed by a series. In this situation, variations can be made and the vision finally completed. The end point was marked by strong emotions, satisfaction when the product had an “effect”, feeling rewarded and proud when the work was sold. This brings us again to consider the relation between the artist and the social world. Recognition from others, public and critics was sought after, although some artists rebelled and claimed that their works were not made to “seducce”. Feedback was nevertheless taken into account because it allowed respondents to put some well needed distance between themselves and their productions.
The six stages of creative activity in art outlined above came out of the qualitative analysis of interview material. As such, their description has the advantage of taking into account the real life experience of the participants as described in their own words. Between the six phases of work there were many feedback loops and a movement of ‘back and forth’ which can be better captured through longitudinal observation. In any case, artists mentioned this cyclical and dynamic aspect of their work constantly and described their activity as “action, reflection, action, non-action, plenty of action”, a dialog between themselves and the object. Dewey (1934) remains thus not only valid to this day, but worthy of renewed attention from creativity researchers.
7. Discussion
The findings show that artists spontaneously referred to key elements of the four Ps (person, process, press, and product; MacKinnon, 1978; Mooney, 1963; Plucker & Renzulli, 1999; Rhodes, 1961) and multivariate approach (cognitive, conative, emotional, and environmental components). Also, the qualitative coding allowed us to ‘reconstruct’ the main stages of the creative process. In the following discussion, the most important findings concerning artistic creativity will be summarized in light of their theoretical and practical implications.
7.1. Multivariate approach
In addition to the discourse of artists, the analyses of questionnaire data confirmed the importance of the cognitive component for artistic creativity. The capacities of the individual to generate, combine, assemble and accept new ideas are all essential for creative production. The literature is consensual on the involvement of these cognitive capacities in creativity and the artists seem to agree as well. For example, Carlson and Gorman (1992) considered that selective comparison – the capacity to compare information and also to compare it to previous knowledge – is very important for creativity. Bonnardel, Didierjean, and Marmèche (2003) underlined the importance of analogies and selective encoding in creative work. For artists in our sample, these cognitive abilities were also perceived as important.
The discourse of artists indicated that conative components are favorable for creativity. The analysis of questionnaire data confirmed the fact that openness to new experiences, esthetics, values and sources of inspiration are important. In agreement with this, Chamorro-Premuzic, Furnham, and Reimers (2007) explained that “personality differences underlying individuals’ art interests seem to be captured mostly by the Openness to Experience dimension” (p. 85).
The impact of feelings in art seemed to be a subject of controversy. During the interviews, artists mentioned often their feelings and how they could be helpful for their work. Nevertheless, in the data, the emotional component appeared as the least important. Certain artists considered that emotional components were important for their creativity and others held an opposite point of view. For example, some artists declared that satisfaction or anger could be the starting point for their creativity whereas guilt is rather blocking. From the interviews with artists, it seemed that both positive and negative feelings can facilitate creative work. However, when artists evoked the inhibitors of their creativity, emotional components were mainly cited. It can be concluded therefore that the importance of feelings and their favorable or unfavorable effects depend on emotional valence and specific content. This hypothesis can be completed by also considering the role of emotional intensity and emotional control.
Results from questionnaire data did not suggest that a special environment was necessary for artists. Life events and finances were not seen as essential. Nevertheless, the social environment was indicated as the most important of all environmental components. In artists’
---
**Fig. 2.** Activity stages in art and their links to the physical and social environment.
narratives, the social environment corresponded to the “social world” universe. This universe was differentially cited according to respondent’s gender, artistic domain, and years of art experience: women, multidisciplinary artists, and artists with more than 30 years of experience mentioned more about their social world than the other groups. In any case, the role of environmental conditions needs to be considered in conjunction with results from the qualitative coding of interviews, in order to clarify its function and contribution.
7.2. Personal characteristics
Women spoke more about their education than men. Interestingly, there are more men in the artistic world than women and the inequalities between genders in this field continue to prevail. The School of Fine Arts of Paris opened its doors to women in 1897. Thus, women mentioning education more often during the interviews may be an attempt to provide evidence of personal accomplishment and credentials in order to compensate for gender disparities. Furthermore, women also made references more to their social world than men. In addition, female artists often referred to their artwork as their offspring (“As if creations were children finally”) whereas male artists were more practical (“I work for my artwork”).
Analyses revealed differences in discourse according to artistic domain. Digital artists mentioned facilitating factors and creative cognition. Whether it is photography, video or net-art, technology was essential for creative work. Cluster analysis specified that the cognitive component was most important for digital artists whereas the emotional component was considered least important for their creativity. However, painters referred mainly to the creative action process and the material. In their case, the physical gesture and the tools used were essential but preparation was not seen as indispensable. The cluster analysis detailed that painters estimated emotional components as more important for their creativity than digital artists. The differences observed between digital artists and painters suggested two ways of creating, two different creative processes: a creative process based on cognitive components and a creative process based on action and gesture. Sculptors provided a similar viewpoint to that of digital artists: they talked about facilitating factors and the creative process cognition but, unlike digital artists, sculptors mentioned their education as well. Learning appropriate technologies seemed important to sculptors. Multidisciplinary artists frequently cited their social world. The flexibility of these artists revealed their openness. Multidisciplinary artists were in touch with other artists and persons from different fields such as mathematics, architecture, or physics. The differences between disciplines were already evoked by Baer (1999), who considered that the abilities necessary in a creative domain are not the same for other domains: each task is relatively specific and requires specific capabilities (Baer, 1998).
Finally, the level of experience in art could also explain differences in discourse. The less experienced artists (less than 10 years of activity) were more closely connected to their education. Their learning was still recent and they had less experience to draw on regarding factors facilitating or inhibiting creativity compared to older artists. The artists with 20–29 years of experience referred to inhibiting factors and to the world of art. Finally, experienced artists (with more than 30 years of activity) were recognized by their peers. During the interview, they spoke about facilitating factors for their creativity and about their social world. After 30 years of practice in art, experienced artists knew more people in their field and could thus more easily refer to them.
7.3. Creative process
From the artists’ discourse, we uncovered also the stages of the creative process conceptualized as activity. This original approach led to consider processes in their psychological and behavioral interplay and in relation to the material and social environment. The phases of creative ideation—documentation/reflection—first sketches—testing forms—first object—the series came out of a qualitative analysis of interview material. The contribution of this analysis can be considered, first, in the broader context of existing models of the creative process and, second, in relation to the findings and methods used in the research discussed here.
Many links can be made between the stages of the creative process coming out of this analysis and existing work in the creativity literature. For example, the first stage of creative ideation is close to the problem finding activities described by Getzels and Csikszentmihalyi (1976). Phases 2 (documentation/reflection), 3 (first sketches), and 4 (testing forms) can also be found in various models (John-Steiner, 1997; Mace & Ward, 2002). More specifically, if an analogy is made with the Genoplore model (Finke et al., 1992), phase 2 largely corresponds to the generative process associated with the construction and the search for ideas and stages 3 and 4 correspond to the exploratory process — testing the creative idea. Finally, the last stage was already described by Mace and Ward (2002) who explained that the artistic process is cyclical and iterative in nature, allowing the development of a series of products.
In relation to the existing literature, the main advantage of employing an action framework consists of understanding the situated nature of creativity, its connection to the larger context of the creator’s life and his or her existence as a social actor. Activity theory considered both the ‘internal’ and ‘external’ facets of creation in their inter-relation. As such, the six stages above were discussed in terms of what the artist does but also what he or she undergoes, feels, comes against and wants to achieve. Few conceptualizations have been interested in all these components at or considered them as equally important. Mace and Ward (2002) aimed, for example, to capture the dynamics of the creative process through stages of artwork conception, idea development, making artwork and finishing artwork. Their description is similar to the cycle of doing and undergoing (in terms of an interplay between a developing vision, the latest productive activity and its’ degree of success) documented in the present research.
The study discussed in this article followed primarily a multivariate model of creativity, aiming to capture the integrity and unity of creative work in its cognitive, conative, emotional and environmental components. The action analysis brought to this framework an organization of person and process elements along a time dimension, the succession of phases involved in the production of artwork. Inhibiting and facilitating factors previously uncovered were part and parcel of each of the six stages. Future efforts should be focused on “matching” each stage with its corresponding set of factors and work conditions.
7.4. Limitations
It is important in the end to acknowledge some limitations of this study. First, although the sample was sufficient for semantic analysis and qualitative coding (as saturation was easily reached), the number of participants \( n = 27 \) may be too few for cluster analysis. Second, it is risky to abstract creative stages from ‘declarative’ accounts alone because they offer us primarily reconstructions of this work; however, there can also be methodological risks in relying exclusively on ‘objective’ and ‘depersonalizing’ types of analysis that do not take the experience of creators into account. Most models of the creative process were constructed based on interviews (Mace & Ward, 2002; Wallas, 1926) and, to a lesser extent, on observations (Botella et al., 2011b). A balance needs to be found in order to manage such inherent research trade-offs. The present article stands as an example of how different types of analyses complement each other. These analyses do not necessarily lead us to the same conclusions but contribute to a more comprehensive understanding of art, artists and artistic activity.
8. Conclusion
The present study, based on in-depth analysis of the discourse of experienced artists, offered a comprehensive exploration of creativity in art by triangulating theoretical models and types of analysis. Whereas some of these analyses are not uncommon to creativity studies (e.g., the multivariate approach), others suggest new theoretical perspectives (e.g., creativity as action). The methods used in this study could also be applied to other creative fields such as science, design or literacy.
The aims of this study were to identify the factors involved in artistic creativity, to examine the impact of personal characteristics on artists’ discourse, and to describe the creative process of artistic activity. Although these aims were addressed here, other personal characteristics could be explored in further research to improve our understanding of artistic activity. In the present study, the discussion focused on creative factors and stages of the creative process. Findings have been related to the existing literature with an emphasis on how they contribute to it and open up new perspectives for the study and enhancement of creativity. For example, future research could extend these findings through direct observation of the factors involved in art and/or through observing the creative process.
Finally, in the present study a general conception of the creative process and the factors involved in artistic activity was proposed. Principal component analysis and cluster analysis allowed some individual differences between artists to be identified. Ideally, future research would focus on better understanding the creative process, as well as the factors involved; thereby informing the teaching of creativity and art. If some factors have unfavorable consequences for creative activity it may be possible, through training, to control their effects. For example, artists explained that affect could either facilitate or inhibit their creativity. However, affects seem to be more involved in painting than in digital arts. Thus, if future research reveals similar findings based on artists’ descriptions, then this insight could guide the development of a teaching method to help painters better understand feelings and thus facilitate their creativity; similarly another method could help digital artists avoid feelings that may block creativity. Moreover, if the creative process is further specified, approaches to effectively teaching creativity in art could be proposed for each stage of artistic creativity. These educational implications require further development and could use the present findings as a starting point.
References
|
New as Renewal: A Framework for Adaptive Reuse in the Sustainable Paradigm
Luke A. Beck
labeck@art.umass.edu
Follow this and additional works at: http://scholarworks.umass.edu/masters_theses_2
Recommended Citation
NEW AS RENEWAL
A FRAMEWORK FOR ADAPTIVE REUSE IN THE SUSTAINABLE
PARADIGM
A Thesis Presented
by
LUKE A. BECK
Submitted to the Graduate School of the
University of Massachusetts Amherst in partial fulfillment
of the requirements for the degree of
MASTER OF ARCHITECTURE
May 2014
Architecture+Design Program
NEW AS RENEWAL
A FRAMEWORK FOR ADAPTIVE REUSE IN THE SUSTAINABLE PARADIGM
A Thesis Presented
by
LUKE A. BECK
Approved as to style and content by:
__________________________________
Ray Mann, Chair
__________________________________
Kathleen Lugosch, Member
Kathleen Lugosch
Graduate Program Director
Architecture + Design Program
Department of Art, Architecture
and Art History
___________________________________
William T. Oedel
Chair, Department of Art, Architecture,
and Art History
ABSTRACT
NEW AS RENEWAL
A FRAMEWORK FOR ADAPTIVE REUSE IN THE SUSTAINABLE PARADIGM
MAY 2014
LUKE A. BECK, B.S., SUNY COLLEGE OF TECHNOLOGY AT ALFRED
M. ARCH, UNIVERSITY OF MASSACHUSETTS AMHERST
Directed by: Professor Kathleen Lugosch
The way in which we approach building design is constantly being influenced by evolving economic, environmental and social parameters. These factors have implications on both pragmatic and aesthetic facets of design. The built environment is not autonomous from its immediate site or the ecologies of the region in which it is located, rather, the former must be designed to symbiotically exist within and enhance the latter. The term ecology is defined as “a branch of science that deals with the relations of organisms to one another and to their physical surroundings.” Although this typically relates to biology, the term can be expanded to include economic or social ecology. It has been proposed that architectural design can be informed through and should evolve in relation to; environmental, economic and social ecologies.
This thesis will examine the relationships between these “ecologies” and how they can inform the adaptive reuse of a vacant industrial site. It will include an examination of the paradigm shift from large-scale industrial manufacturing to Small and Medium-sized Enterprises (SMEs) at the economic and social level. It will further discuss the evolution of environmental awareness within this shift and how these values can drive architectural design while allowing for long term flexibility in adaptive reuse.
# TABLE OF CONTENTS
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Section</th>
<th>Page</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>ABSTRACT</td>
<td>iv</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>LIST OF FIGURES</td>
<td>viii</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>INTRODUCTION</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHAPTER</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1. DE-CONSTRUCTING THE SOCIAL CONCEPT OF ‘GREEN’ BUILDING</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1.1 Environmental Architecture as a Social Construction</td>
<td>3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1.2 Competing “Eco-Logics”</td>
<td>4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1.3 The Role of Risk</td>
<td>8</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2. EVOLVING A METHODOLOGY</td>
<td>10</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2.1 Aesthetics and Performance</td>
<td>10</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2.2 Symbiosis, Differentiation, Visibility</td>
<td>13</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2.3 Response</td>
<td>15</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2.4 Final Notes</td>
<td>17</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3. APPLIED HOLISTIC ‘SUSTAINABLE’ THINKING</td>
<td>19</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3.1 Case Study: Angus Technopole</td>
<td>19</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3.1.1 Overview</td>
<td>20</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3.1.2 Design Process</td>
<td>20</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
4. PROJECT APPLICATION ................................................................. 24
4.1 Overview ......................................................................................... 24
4.2 Suggesting Program ........................................................................ 25
4.3 High Road vs. Low Road Manufacturing ........................................... 25
4.4 Skills Ecosystems ........................................................................... 27
4.5 Addressing Basic Needs ................................................................. 27
4.6 Visualizing Amenities ..................................................................... 28
4.7 Centers of Making ......................................................................... 29
4.8 Centers of Business and Collaboration ............................................ 29
5. RESPONDING TO PERENNIAL ENVIRONMENTAL FORCES ............. 30
5.1 Overview: Response to Perennial Environmental Forces .................... 30
5.1.1 Identifying Forces .................................................................... 30
5.2 People and Space ............................................................................ 31
5.2.1 Constraints ............................................................................. 31
5.2.2 Functions ............................................................................... 31
5.2.3 Interaction with the Built Environment .................................... 32
5.2.4 Analysis and Generation ......................................................... 36
5.2.4.1 Space and User Needs ...................................................... 37
5.2.4.2 Space and ‘Build-ability’ .................................................. 41
5.2.4.3 Space and Novelty/Aesthetics ........................................ 41
5.3 Light ................................................................................................ 42
5.3.1 Constraints .................................................................................................. 42
5.3.2 Functions..................................................................................................... 42
5.3.3 Interaction with the Built Environment ...................................................... 42
5.3.4 Analysis and Generation............................................................................. 43
5.3.4.1 Light and User Needs.................................................................... 45
5.3.4.2 Light and ‘Build-ability’ ............................................................... 47
5.3.4.3 Light and Novelty/Aesthetics ....................................................... 47
CONCLUSION................................................................................................................. 50
BIBLIOGRAPHY............................................................................................................. 53
# LIST OF FIGURES
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Figure</th>
<th>Description</th>
<th>Page</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1.</td>
<td>Nokia Corporate Office</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2.</td>
<td>Druk White Lotus School, Ladakh, India</td>
<td>6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3.</td>
<td>Competing Logics of Sustainable Architecture</td>
<td>7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4.</td>
<td>Life Science Laboratories at UMass Amherst</td>
<td>13</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5.</td>
<td>Milwaukee Museum of Art- Santiago Calatrava</td>
<td>14</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6.</td>
<td>Sagrada Familia-Antonio Gaudi</td>
<td>14</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7.</td>
<td>Yale School of Forestry-Hopkins Architects</td>
<td>14</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8.</td>
<td>Angus Technopole “Organizing Spine”</td>
<td>22</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9.</td>
<td>Angus Technopole Spaces</td>
<td>22</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10.</td>
<td>Evolving Work Processes</td>
<td>26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>11.</td>
<td>Typical Victorian Parlor</td>
<td>33</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12.</td>
<td>Pantheon</td>
<td>34</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>13.</td>
<td>Dee and Charles Wyly Theatre</td>
<td>35</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>14.</td>
<td>Wyly Theatre Organizational Section</td>
<td>36</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>15.</td>
<td>Existing Circulation Cores</td>
<td>37</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>16.</td>
<td>Eco-Tone</td>
<td>38</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>17.</td>
<td>Edge Condition Design Principle</td>
<td>39</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>18.</td>
<td>Typical Floor Plate and Existing Stairwells</td>
<td>40</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>19.</td>
<td>Zone A</td>
<td>43</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>20.</td>
<td>Zone B</td>
<td>44</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>21.</td>
<td>Zone C</td>
<td>44</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
viii
22. Zone D .................................................................................................................. 45
23. Potential Atria Locations I .................................................................................... 46
24. Potential Atria Locations II .................................................................................. 46
25. Atrium Study Locations I .................................................................................... 48
26. Atrium Section ...................................................................................................... 49
This Thesis began with research into the numerous factors influencing the ‘green’ or sustainable paradigm in Architecture. Each paradigm, with its own accompanying style, also hosts its own set of processes generating a product that is unique to the time before it. This is noticeable throughout the built environment. The application of this project will be an examination of several theories of this paradigm in an adaptive reuse project.
An Architectural Paradigm
Stephen Grabow, in his book Christopher Alexander: The Search for a New Paradigm in Architecture, argues that “the breakdown of the [current] paradigm occurs – just as it does in science – when external anomalies introduce contradictions within its order (p.2).” He proceeds to state that the crisis surrounding the breakdown of a paradigm and the manifestation of a new one is spawned by a social recognition that the current processes in architecture “no longer produces buildings that satisfy people’s needs, can be reasonably built and maintained, and are aesthetically pleasing (Grabow p.3).” This parallels Vitruvius’ “fineness, commodity and delight.” This is an important concept as it lays the foundation for understanding the impetus for ‘green’ architecture. According to Grabow, architecture is only relevant and useful if it meets three criteria – satisfying people’s needs, can be reasonably built and maintained, and be aesthetically pleasing. If architecture fails to meet these needs, the current paradigm will unravel. Part of what makes the field of architecture so tumultuous is the understanding that two of Grabow’s three criteria (meeting people’s needs, and being aesthetically pleasing) are extremely
subjective. The following chapters, and the resulting design application, are intended to
cultivate an understanding of how these two subjective parameters have been addressed
within the ‘green’ architecture paradigm thus far, and, explore the issues involved with
understanding these parameters.
CHAPTER 1
DE-CONSTRUCTING THE SOCIAL CONCEPT OF ‘GREEN’ BUILDING
1.1 Environmental Architecture as a Social Construction
In an essay entitled “Contested Constructions; The Competing Logics of Green Buildings and Ethics,” Simon Guy and Graham Famer examined the ways in which ideas of “green” design and building are interpreted. The authors are reacting to the concepts of green building and sustainability, and are attempting demonstrate the complexities involved with quantifying the issues entangled in the ‘green’ building imperative.
The reading helps to locate “green” building within the realm of sustainability and environmental consciousness. While there is a very quantifiable process in creating environmentally responsible buildings, i.e. how much energy a building consumes, there is a great deal of controversy regarding the root issues of green building and sustainability and the [limited] role of the architect therein.
Contested Constructions was included within a book of essays entitled Ethics and the Built Environment which was published in 2000. At this time the U.S. Green Building Council and LEED were in their first decade of existence, and conferences regarding the Kyoto Protocol had occurred just three years prior. At this time sustainability was becoming more of a mainstream topic as it related to the built environment. Although the issue was spurred in the 1970s with events such as the oil crisis and publications such as Rachael Carson’s Silent Spring, The USBGC and LEED were the first actions to truly apply benchmarks for, and to quantify green building. The essay begins with a quote from Deyan Sudjic in which he stated: “for any architect not to
profess passionate commitment to ‘green’ buildings is professional suicide.” The term ‘green’ though is extremely broad ranging and its multi-faceted nature became the topic of this essay.
The questions brought up in the writing have become ever more pertinent with each progressing year since its publishing. Paragraphs are entitled: Green buildings as social constructions, as technique, as appropriate form, as social concern, and as social expressions of competing green values. Similar to the “camps” of naturalism, post positivism, and emancipatory values in research, values of individuals, institutions, and groups create biases towards how green buildings are understood.
1.2 Competing Eco-Logics
Guy and Farmer; in the section ‘Green building as technique – the ecological and smart logics,’ identify differing technological stances termed ‘eco-centric environmentalism’ and ‘techno-centric environmentalism.’ They continue to state that:
The emblematic issue here is that sustainability and ethical judgments stem from an ecological view of knowledge which represents the standing of non-human entities, necessarily extending beyond the anthropocentric concerns to encompass a moral concern for the integrity of the natural world. (Guy and Farmer 2000: 77)
To briefly summarize, the former mentioned is a natural sciences based view that emphasizes the dynamic interaction between the living and the non-living as a critical component in the green design problem. The latter, or smart approach as it is alternately termed, asserts that incremental techno-economic change, as well as science and technology can provide solutions to environmental issues. Each of these techniques holds
a separate bias regarding what the definition of ‘green building’ is, how it should be carried out, and what exactly it should accomplish. One can observe this disparity in thinking in the methodologies of LEED and the Living Building Challenge. It can be argued that the LBC considers a broader swath of issues, some of which are more qualitative – for instance, ‘beauty and inspiration’ is part of LBC’s criteria. Within these two rating systems we see a divide in the way that the definition of ‘green’ building is framed.
Another example/question can be found in the section entitled: ‘Green building as appropriate form – the aesthetic and symbolic logics.’ Again two competing logics are framed: the aesthetic logic and the symbolic. The aesthetic emphasizes a “future-oriented ‘new age’ view and the emblematic issue is how to represent the epoch shift of the new millennium” (Guy and Farmer: 79). A goal of this logic might be to create an architectural language in which both the function and the form embody an environmental message. On the competing end, the symbolic logic attempts to engage both environmental and cultural concerns rather than inspire a ‘universal, radical change of attitudes.’ The emblematic issue here as stated by Guy and Farmer (80) is: “authenticity and the notion that truly sustainable buildings need to relate more fully to the concept of locality and place.” One can summarize this divide as one between a globalized notion of ‘green’ and environmentalism and one derived more from cultural or regional nuances. There are many examples of this divide in the current built environment. Nokia’s corporate offices located in Gurgaon, India a LEED Gold rating from the USGBC. As can be seen from the images below the building embodies a very sleek modern international aesthetic.
In comparison, the The Druk White Lotus School in Ladakh, India received Best Asian Building, Best Educational Building and Best Green Building awards for its cost effective and sustainable design. *Traditional* Ladakhi architecture was combined with modern day century engineering techniques to achieve high results in severe desert landscape. Rather than build a sleek glass box and control the internal climate with HVAC, mud brick masonry, traditional to the region was used to achieve the desired thermal results.
This essay does not condemn nor praise a specific method of framing the issue of ‘green’ building, but it does begin to describe the various biases or logics that interact or compete to influence the definition and resulting application of the term. The diagram (Figure 3) portrays what have been defined as the ‘Six Competing Logics of Green Buildings.’ This table is useful in understanding the levels of interactions between these
perspectives on the topic. Any of these logics could be applied, broadened or tested and as seen in the above examples; many currently are.
Figure 3: Competing Logics of Sustainable Architecture
The consideration of “the competing logics of innovation which emerge from particular emblematic issues; [such as] sustainability, efficiency, aesthetics, health, authenticity, and communitarian concerns” is critical in understanding alternative environmental approaches. These approaches can help designers become “more sensitive to the range of possible logics of innovation that may surface in new buildings” and foster design approaches that “bring environmental benefits at a variety of scales.”
1.3 The Role of Risk
Architectural movements are often related to, or even reflections of social views at a certain point in time. The ‘Green’ movement is no different. Much of angst regarding the detrimental effects of the built environment on the natural environment has spawned from increasing social awareness of environmental risks. This can become a problem when attempting to design a quantifiable object, such as a building, based on a risk that may have a subjective social definition. John Hannigan wrote a book titled *Environmental Sociology: A Social Constructivist Perspective* in which he describes the ways in which environmental risks are constructed and perceived.
Hannigan states that “as a society, we still have to make social judgments about the magnitude of risk.” This is a useful statement as Architecture often bridges certain gaps between social science and ‘hard’ science. Hannigan (p.133) continues to draw from Hilgartner’s examination of the conceptual structure of social definitions of risk. Hilgartner asserts that these ‘social definitions’ are comprised of three main conceptual components: “an object deemed to pose the risk; a putative harm; and a linkage alleging some causal relationship between the object and the harm.”
This trend can be observed in numerous architectural experiments in the current paradigm. Edward Wilson’s Biophilia Hypothesis is a strong example. The hypothesis argues a human affinity for living systems and is steeped in evolutionary psychology. In the case of Biophilia, the object posing risk can be interpreted as anti-humanistic architecture. Modernist architecture for example, with its mechanistic forms, devoid of any relationship to the human condition could be construed as a risk to human health. The
harm can be quantified as well; sick building syndrome for example is caused by the off-gassing of building materials exacerbated by a hermetically sealed space. The linkage lies within evolutionary psychology.
CHAPTER 2
EVOLVING A METHODOLOGY
As with previous architectural paradigms, certain buildings are designed that exemplify specific values emergent at that time. These are often experiments based on a specific thread of research. For example, Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye arguably epitomizes the Modernist view of Form follows Function. Many of Frank Lloyd Wright’s projects at this time exemplify slightly different values that that of Corbusier, but, when compared to another paradigm, such as that of Victorian architecture, tend to portray a great deal of similarity to the work of other Modernist architects. In other words, despite various differences, the experimental work of architects within a certain paradigm, tend to exhibit a common thread of thought and consciousness.
2.1 Aesthetics and Performance
Susannah Hagen, in Taking Shape: A New Contract with Nature discusses some of the differences in thought regarding architecture and the environment. Hagen identifies two factions which although not necessarily at odds, seem to define each end of the spectrum of environmental consciousness. The Arcadian perspective, Hagen states, seeks a “pre-industrial” relationship between the built and natural environments, while the Rationalist majority has placed emphasis on developing contemporary environmental design tools without bias towards era. While each of these camps share different methods and perspectives, their overall agendas lie within the same ethical framework. Some common values include; optimism about the possibility of positive change, and a heavy reliance on phenomenology interpreted by architectural theorists. Another key
commonality is the emphasis on the reinstatement of human subject to a central position within moral discourse and environmental action.
Published in 2001, the book appeared on the scene of growing environmental discourse. There seems to have been an almost frenzied scramble to interrogate the notions/buzzwords such as sustainability and green/environmental architecture and design in general. Titles of books and essays published around the same time include Cradle to Cradle: Remaking the Way We Make Things, Understanding Sustainable Architecture, and “Contested Constructions; The competing Logics of Green Buildings and Ethics.” Hagan is clearly addressing the uncertainty of designers, architects, and the general public as to how architecture and design relate to sustainability and the natural environment. In the introduction, Hagen identifies the practice of drawing from both Rationalist and Arcadian logics as a highly sophisticated one in which “they [architects] discuss form in the same breath as they discuss energy efficiency. (Hagen, xi)” She proceeds to state that culturally, this method has barely been acknowledged by collective consciousness. Furthermore, it is perceived as a process that encourages stasis rather than drives change. She criticizes this as a failure by the standards of environmentalism as environmentalism actually a dichotomy that drives change while protesting certain changes that have already occurred. Hagen criticizes conservatism both in thought and architectural form, stating that respecting nature should not automatically lend itself to such conservatism. It seems as though these criticisms arose from critiques of the first attempts (in the late ‘90s – early ‘00s at least) to make buildings “environmentally sustainable” through the use of technology and limitation of form.
Hagen continues to introduce several logics that can potentially frame endeavors of environmental architecture. One of which is presentation. Hagen (xi) states:
“In the ideological battle between environmentalism and consumerism, presentation is everything. A practice that is perceived to be as regressive is at a disadvantage against one that is perceived as innovative, however harmful at some level this innovation may be.”
The perception of a presentation is completely reliant on factors such as time in history, location, and audience. What is perceived to be innovative or “green” currently will almost certainly be perceived differently half a century from now. Indeed, fifty years from now the critical need to address climate change on all fronts will either be lessened, or our opportunity to make any positive change might have vanished without our making any achievement.
Some other questions posed in the introduction include:
What then is ‘environmental’ or ‘sustainable’ architecture? Is it the plurality of existing architectures made more environmentally sustainable? How is one to decide, what is more important in environmental terms – architecture that expresses its sustainable condition more successfully than it operates sustainably, or vice versa?
To assist in framing answers to these questions, Hagen poses three criteria that might be used to form opinions. These include ‘symbiosis,’ ‘differentiation,’ and ‘visibility’ (re-representation).
2.2 Symbiosis, Differentiation, Visibility
Symbiosis is described as a “more co-operative material relation between building and environment” and is furthermore a “pre-requisite for environmental sustainability.” This parameter allows architectures to maintain their existing identities. A built example of ‘symbiotic’ architecture could be any LEED certified building. The new Life Sciences building at UMass Amherst is designed to meet LEED Silver standards yet it arguably maintains the aesthetics of a(n) educational/institutional, laboratory science, and contemporary university work of architecture.
Figure 4: Life Science Laboratories at UMass Amherst
Differentiation pertains to the influence of nature on environmental forms, with no reference to sustainability. Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia, or many of Calatrava’s sweeping birdlike forms hint of influence from the natural world yet functionally they may not be the most environmentally sustainable building by current standards.
Visibility, binds the process of form making to environmental modes of operation. While there are ways to accomplish this, for example the use of a renewable resource such as wood to create a flowing structural form in Yale’s Kroon Hall (also LEED Platinum), it can be argued that this piece of criteria may be hindered by changing perceptions even if the design is in fact informed by nature and not simply representational of it.
2.3 Response
Hagen seems primarily concerned with the views of those directly related to either the built environment or the natural one. How does the general population (or other building professionals) fall within the spectrum of Arcadian to Rationalist? And how might the views of the populace inform a contract between architecture and nature? In placing architecture within the environmental imperative, I believe it is important not to become so esoteric as to alienate those for whom we design. Hagen makes a strong statement that public perception is vital in the success of an architectural movement, yet (at least in the early portion of the book) only really discusses the theories and views that someone with architectural or design training might bring to a discussion about nature and the built environment.
If architecture is in part validated through persuasiveness, or its ability to educate, then where does public perception come into play, and how is it studied, understood, and applied to design practice? In defining an appropriate architecture-nature aesthetic relationship, it is important to consider should be achieved by an “architectural expression of environmental sustainability.” Hagen presents the viewpoints of architects of Arcadian and Rationalist camps and uses these to frame her theory, yet the discussion could be enriched if the biases and perceptions of the lay-person were considered. Rather than implementing an architectural aesthetic to appease designers and architects, a study could involve forming an aesthetic that communicates a “contract with nature” to those with limited or no formal design education or sophisticated nuances.
In order to propose a method of testing theory; consider the following posited by Hagen (p. 5):
"architectural expression of environmental sustainability has not been universally welcomed in environmental circles is that representing a new contract between nature and architecture does not in any way imply the architect has successfully signed up to it. In other words, the building may speak of a new regard for nature-as-model and still operate in an entirely conventional way."
The theory that forming a new contract between architecture and nature involves numerous dimensions could be tested on a participatory design process involving a variety of professionals and non-professionals with perspectives and backgrounds relevant or not relevant to the built and natural environment. Each could be encouraged to articulate their ideas of what values environmental architecture should espouse.
Finally, in comparing and contrasting Hagen’s theories with those of Stuart Brand in *How Buildings Learn: What Happens after They’re Built*; we see yet another level of complexity added to Hagen’s identification of various competing logics in how architecture’s relationship to nature is perceived. Brand too, places an emphasis on biases, assumptions, and perceptions as competing logics, although in the process of planning and programming for the design of buildings with regard to their future uses rather than in relation to the natural environment. Both, interestingly, allude to the notion of change occurring from the bottom up versus being imposed from the top down. One potential topic that could be derived from the comparison of these two texts is an investigation of the ways in which the added imperative of planning for a building’s spatial, aesthetic, and programmatic evolution might affect, further complicate, or enrich the dilemma over the relationship of a building to the natural environment. A second topic could investigate the ways in which certain buildings, built with no consideration to
energy conservation or sustainability have “accepted” or “rejected” retrofits to become more sustainable. Brand criticizes buildings planned so rigidly that they are unable to evolve to meet new standards and needs, programmatic or otherwise without total elimination of aesthetic character. Hagen lists symbiosis as one of three modes of environmental engagement. A building, in achieving a symbiotic relationship with the environment; meets “environmentally responsible” criteria, yet maintains its own character and identity. *Could a process for building exist that addresses Brand’s emphasis on ability to evolve without loss of aesthetic character by way of Hagen’s given lens of ‘symbiosis’?*
### 2.4 Final Notes
Based on the research and reading conducted during this portion of the project; several takeaway points can be gathered that will aid the design application in the second part of this paper:
1. There is no single, incontestable ‘green’ or sustainable building type. ‘Green’ is not merely a label that can be attached to a building, but rather a process, understanding, and set of values that is inherent to the architectural process.
2. Many environmental-architecture ‘solutions’ are responses to the social construction of a certain risk. This does not always have to be an environmental risk.
3. Paradigms within the field of architecture will come and go. Architects and Design Professionals must have the ability to cull useful
information from the experimentation in the design field during the chaotic times of an emerging paradigm.
CHAPTER 3
APPLIED HOLISTIC SUSTAINABLE THINKING
3.1 Case Study: Angus Technopole
The previous chapters have discussed the multi-faceted nature of architecture in the arena of sustainability. Each of the design experiments within this movement has yielded a set of results that can be synthesized into a useful methodology for future design. Furthermore the issues discussed are relevant ones, and should not be forgotten once the exploratory phase of green architecture dies down, or once the fantastic forms have been exhausted. Rather than dive headfirst into the next bubble in popular architectural practice, professionals should look for ways to expand the lessons learned from previous movements in more sophisticated and nuanced ways. Guy Favreau of AEdifa Architecture + Engineering provides a sound example of this thinking:
“The next challenge to all green design should be the integration of buildings and city planning within their context as a seamless fusion of each other. Connecting buildings and urban planning to the cultural context in an age of globalization is a strong ecological statement, as it offers more cultural diversity with less inclusion and more inclusion.”
The following case study were chosen as it is similar in numerous ways to the application portion of this project. The discussion and analysis will continue to focus on the criteria set forth by Grabow: satisfying the user’s needs, build-ability and ease of maintenance, and aesthetic quality.
3.1.1 Overview
The Angus Technopole is a business park located in Montreal’s east end that specializes in environmental technology. The site formerly housed the Canadian Pacific locomotive assembly plant which was a focal point of the community, and whose closure was followed by a decline in local industry and employment. The reuse project is defined by a broad social and environmental vision that includes: the renewal of a historic landmark, a response to evolving economic conditions, and the reuse of a brownfield in a major urban core (McMinn, Polo 4543). It furthermore stands as an important model for the cultural interpretation of sustainability. Although, according to McMinn and Polo, the building’s use of environmental systems is at a lesser level of sophistication that those found in other reuse projects, it provides a strong example of recycling and reuse of materials and assemblies, and the consideration of community connectivity.
3.1.2 Design Process
Originally, the owners of the site, Canadian Pacific, intended to convert the site into a residential and commercial district. Members of the community though, wishing to preserve the site as a pillar of the local economy, lobbied for the retaining of its industrial vocation. This action was successful and the Societe de developpement Angus (SDA) was created to foster the goal of creating 2,000 on-site jobs in a 10 year span. The SDA accomplished this by providing support services to help realize projects aimed at the social and economic aspects of sustainable development. Architecturally, the SDA’s goal was to design features and facilities to maximize site potential and align with the environmental and social objectives of the project.
These objectives included:
1. The integration of neighboring urban fabric in a continuous manner, particularly pertaining to; the preservation and reinforcement of scale and character, the linking of existing grid systems and streetscapes, diversified land uses, relatively high density and greening of streets.
2. The transformation of the Locoshop into a multi-functional industrial center to house small and medium sized businesses (SMEs) emerging in various sectors of the new economy.
3. The demonstration of the terms of ecological building with the incorporation of environmental criteria in all phases of its design development including; de-allocation and decontamination of old installations, reutilization of existing materials, design of new, more efficient, installations with the objectives of optimizing energy, flexibility of space planning, the use of environmentally friendly materials and state of the art construction techniques.
1. In terms of programming, the upper levels of the “Locoshop Angus,” were populated offices and research studios, while light industrial uses were developed on the main floor. A central interior street gives access to these individual spaces and acts as a central organizing spine while providing access to natural light.
The notions of critical regionalism in this case informed the adaptive reuse process. Much of the original steel structure was retained and left exposed to provide a link to the industrial heritage. The new program was seen as a series of “insertions” into the bays of the existing structure. Retaining the old structure created a dramatic contrast with the new building assemblies which feature lightweight steel, fiberglass, and wood. The detailing and connections of the new assemblies are minimal, conservative and “matter-of-fact” with a focus on highlighting the character of the original building (figure 9).
The reuse process did involve some challenges that yielded innovative solutions. The pouring of new foundations for some of the new building assemblies would have compromised the existing slab and the poor soil beneath much of it. In response, a new cover of concrete was poured over the existing slab. This doubled as an economic benefit as it saved excavation and disposal costs.
The design goals of this project contain several sensitivities that highlight the ways in which architecture might be evolving within the paradigm of sustainability. The concept of reusing existing building stock is a central feature and is tied in with the maintaining of a historical icon that highlights the industrial past of the region. Rather than constructing a sleek, generic “green” business park on the outskirts of the city, a site was remediated within an urban core to preserve an industrial cultural identity and heritage while embracing new economic and environmental needs.
CHAPTER 4
PROJECT APPLICATION
4.1 Overview
The Industrial Zoned building was home to the Riverside Paper Company. Completed in 1895, the building is actually comprised of five interconnected segments altogether totaling around 205,000 S.F.
The location of this building is relevant as it sits in the study area for the South Holyoke Redevelopment Strategy. This strategy outlines goals to improve the social, economic, and environmental quality of the neighborhood. One Cabot Street is a former paper mill so; it is ideally suited to host a similar program type. Furthermore, a point of interest in the South Holyoke Revitalization Plan included the creation of employment and business opportunities (p.19). This point of interest has not been exhaustively researched as it is outside the immediate scope of this project. Instead, two concepts regarding an evolving business landscape are identified and used to suggest a program throughout the building. The two concepts that will be discussed regarding the program are the transition from “Low Road” to “High Road” creation, manufacturing, and production; and the concept of Skills Ecosystems. Both of these are related to light manufacturing which is a useful skill and can yield high wages and can help foster smaller, local scale, culturally based businesses which is a desire outlined in the SHRP (p. 19).
4.2 Suggesting Program
Program, in former movements, such as Modernism, has been generally treated as the Perennial function of Architecture and thus the drivers of the design, while functions such as light, heat, circulation, structure and energy have been the transient ones. This design exploration seeks to reverse this order, treating the latter flows as the drivers, and organizing program based upon their distribution. The anticipated result will be a specifically generic set of novel architectonics derived from the Capture, Channeling, and Composition of these re-determined Perennial variables.
As One Cabot Street is a former mill building, it is ideally suited to host a similar program type. Furthermore, a point of interest in the South Holyoke Revitalization Plan included the creation of employment and business opportunities (p.19). Manufacturing is useful skill and can yield high wages. The SHRP also outlines the desire for more culturally based businesses (p.19). Two concepts discussed regarding the program of this building are the transition from “Low Road” to “High Road” creation, manufacturing, and production; and the concept of Skills Ecosystems.
4.3 High Road vs. Low Road Manufacturing
In an Economic Policy Institute briefing entitled “Renewing U.S. Manufacturing: A High Road Strategy” Susan Helper outlines the differences between the two strategies, identifies economic, social, and environmental gains that can come from such a shift, and outlines some initial strategies to bolster such a shift in practice. The differences between these two strategies can be observed across categories of: Technology, Economy, Environment, Skills & Education, Division of Labor, and Products and Processes. Figure
10 outlines each strategy’s tendency towards addressing each of these factors. By reusing this building, an incubator will be created for start-up enterprises that utilize High Road Manufacturing and business processes. As is portrayed in Figure AAA, High Road processes hinge on a tangential, rather than hierarchal distribution of knowledge and skill, which in turn can lead to higher wages amongst workers since each will possess specialized knowledge.
**Figure 10 – Evolving Work Processes.** Note: Image created by Luke Beck
4.4 Skills Ecosystems
According to Windsor, a “skills ecosystem” is defined as: “a self-sustaining network of workforce skills and knowledge in an industry or region.” While specific definitions and objective descriptions may vary, the general concept revolves around clusters of industries through which skills and knowledge can feed off one another and grow as a whole. A similar type of system is observed in the Angus Technopole project discussed earlier, in which community businesses with vaguely similar social, economic, and environmental goals interact. Such a concept can be applied to this project in numerous ways. For example: if a start-up company were to occupy a portion of the Cabot Street building conducting research and development regarding the 3D printing of components for solar panels, the groundwork could be set for other start-ups with goals relating to the solar panel industry to move into the building and add to the collective research thereby creating a system of innovation within the industry. No specific uses such as the one outlined will be directly envisioned in this project, but the goal is to provide the basic infrastructure for these types of systems to evolve.
4.5 Addressing Basic Needs
To assist in the decision making process, two overarching objectives have been identified for the user processes within this study. The first is to foster the growth of high road creation and production industries, and the second is to facilitate the accretion of these individual groups into a resilient skills ecosystem. The first will be addressed by providing basic infrastructure for various needs of these startup companies. The second
will be addressed by creating deliberate meaningful means for connection and collaboration between these different groups.
The clusters of program will be further divided by nature of the business. Space will be allocated for Woodworking, Metal working, 3d Printing, and “Creative-Hybrid” Industries. For the purpose of visualizing the potential activity in these spaces, a quick narrative has been written for each of the cluster types.
4.6 Visualizing Amenities
Rather than specifically define program uses throughout the building, programmatic “gradient” will be suggested through the optimization of the “perennial” variables of the building that are being addressed. The objective will be to host some light wood and metal working, as well as 3D printing operations. This make-up of seemingly disparate skills with some underlying similarities could potentially aggregate into a skills-ecosystem considering the potential for “new” creative industries to arise. These programmatic uses will be fostered based on a gradient and cluster approach based on anticipated amenities needed. The amenities under consideration include: circulation, space (structural layout), fire codes, access to water, ventilation requirements, materials workflow and manufacturing processes, lighting requirements, privacy, and business cycle. Amenities will be provided and tailored for three generic ‘centers’ in which most relevant programmatic uses should fit. These will be Centers of Making, Centers of Business, and Centers of Collaboration (or shared space). All are outlined below, and will be discussed in terms of services (equipment and code issues), and user requirements.
(spatial and environmental issues related to how the users will inhabit and interact within the space).
4.7 Centers of Making
In these spaces users will be developing products using tools and machinery such as 3D printers, CNC routers, woodworking tools etc. These spaces will require the “tightest” gradient of programming requirements due to logistic issues as well as code requirements.
4.8 Centers of Business & Centers of Collaboration
These spaces will include offices, open work and research areas, and client meeting/conference spaces. It is in these areas (and in the shared spaces) that the greatest potential exists for utilizing natural modes of ventilation, heating and lighting, and due to the ‘looser’ restrictions in terms of service equipment and code regulations, there will be some overlap between the business areas and shared spaces in terms of services and user requirements.
CHAPTER 5
RESPONDING TO PERENNIAL ENVIRONMENTAL FORCES
5.1 Overview: Response to Perennial Environmental Forces
*Perennial: lasting a long or apparently long time; enduring or recurring*
*Environmental: relating to or arising from a person's surroundings.*
Kiel Moe argues in *Convergence: An Architectural Agenda for Energy* that “Architecture is a capture, channel, and composition device for people, structural loads, energy, heat and light. (Moe, 250).” He considers these to be the perennial forces affecting architecture. When considering building reuse, it makes sense to respond to the forces that have enduring or recurring effect on the building (read user’s surroundings). This chapter will begin to identify some of these Perennial Environmental Forces, what there constraints are, what are some of their potential functions, and how the built environment (in a general abstract sense) interacts with these forces. The following step(s) will analyze how the building at One Cabot Street interacts with these forces and generate some design interventions with (to quote Hagen p.98) “a view [or emphasis] to increasing the reflexivity, and so the visibility of environmental architecture.”
5.1.1 Identifying Forces
Moe lists people, structural loads, heat, energy and light as some potential generative forces, but this study will be using “spatial forces” (which relate to the movement and activity of people within a space), light, air and water.
5.2 People and Space
5.2.1 Constraints
This topic concerns the movement and activity of people within a space, and how … the ways in which space is designed is constrained by several variables, including but not limited to: building codes, programmatic needs, Proximetrics, Anthropometrics, and Ergonomics.
5.2.2 Functions
Marston-Fitch (p. 206) discusses physical space (in buildings or otherwise) as a full system of vectors of force acting upon users. While some of these forces are subjective, he identifies some objective ones which include:
*Psychological*: the motivation of the individual, or the incentive to accomplish a certain action
*Physiological*: the physical condition of the individual with reference to the energy required for the action
*Sociocultural*: the type of behavior that the space is designed to elicit
*Microclimatic*: the actual environmental conditions occurring on the site
*Topographic*: the contours, textures and shape of the surface on which the action transpires
Furthermore the concept of functional distance is considered. Anthropologist Edward Hall studied and proposed some standards for spatial dimensions for different
levels of social interaction. According to Marston-Fitch (p. 207), Hall “visualized each individual as centered in a concentric series of balloons or bubbles of private space” and these “concentric spheres represent optimal distances for a hierarchy of interpersonal relationships.” The resulting figures are as such: 1-1/2 feet; intimate, 1-1/2 – 4 feet; personal, 4-10 feet; social-consultative, and 10-30 feet; public. These figures will be used to determine a functional spatial gradient through which to distribute generic programmatic layouts.
5.2.3 Interaction with the Built Environment
James Marston-Fitch in American Building; The Environmental Forces that Shape It lists three space planning characteristics which are typically found in buildings: Compression, Flexibility, and Mechanization (Marston-Fitch, 305).
Compression is the oldest and simplest of the three and is characterized by a ‘fixed’ space that accommodates multiple uses. Compression can be created at a variety of scales, for instance Figure 11 portrays a parlor in a home. Parlors were could be used for entertaining company, wedding and funerals to name a few uses.
Figure 11 – Typical Victorian Parlor
At a larger more public scale, a space such as the interior of the Pantheon (Figure 12) lends itself to massive public gathering.
Marston-Fitch (p. 307) describes Flexibility as “the natural result of the rapid rate of change that obtains in industry, commerce, and all urban institutions in general.”
Finally it is acknowledged that “the multiple use and flexible organization of space are, at the contemporary scale, inconceivable without a high degree of building mechanization, (Marston-Fitch 309)” and, “if space is at such a premium that it must be intensely used, then it must be flexibly organized, readily convertible from one use to another (Marston-Fitch, 309).” A less technologically evolved society would warrant separate structures for uses that have separate distinct requirements for illumination, acoustics, ventilation, and temperature. Due to technological improvements in the past century, this type of design scheme is possible through mechanized structure as can be seen in the Dee and Charles Wyly Theatre designed by OMA.
In the Wyly Theatre (figure 14) the seating on the main level changes between a proscenium, thrust, and flat floor theater configuration. In conventional theater design, front of house and back of house functions are circled around the auditorium and fly tower. The OMA design team decided instead to stack these amenities above and below the auditorium level (Figure 15). This design strategy enables different functions that require different programmatic configurations to be carried out in a single space.
While the building under study in this project is not a theater, the case study of the Wyly Theatre is useful in that it provides a clear example of the use of mechanization in space planning.
5.2.4 Analysis and Generation
As discussed in the paragraph about spatial constraints, building codes are one of the stricter, if not the most strict determinants of spatial layouts. Therefore they are considered first in the building analysis. According to what is observed in the floor plans of the existing building there are four stair ‘cores,’ and it looks as if two of these contain elevators. On the Northeast side of the building there is also an area for shipping and receiving area with loading docks. The locations of these egress areas are shown in figure 16.
5.2.4.1 Space and User Needs
In a publication in conjunction by HOK Design Group Inc. and the Biomimicry Group Inc. titled *Genius of Biome: Temperate Broadleaf Forest*, the concept of the eco-tone is introduced and described as an edge that supports diversity and species interaction while creating robust systems capable of buffering disturbance. Eco-tones can be observed in nature in instances such as the transition from a forest to a field. The diagram in figure 17, taken from the Genius of the Biome publication portrays two variations of the eco-tone, or edge condition, and some patterns of movement that can be extracted from their study.
The authors (p. 133) extracted a related design principle from the study of this natural edge condition:
*Transition zones represent opportunities to leverage and optimize diversity and interconnectedness. The two main elements that contribute to a robust, resilient edge system are its physical structure and highly interconnected and interdependent relationships among its users. Edge systems with wide transitions between different environments support higher diversity and have more capacity to absorb disturbance. The greater the differences between transitioning environments; the higher the potential for a rich edge system. Adjusting the degree of open areas within the transition zone will influence the rate and ease with which energy, materials and information can flow.*
The question remains whether this principle can be applied to the building under study. The suggested program provides amenities for multiple types of businesses with similar strategies involving high road manufacturing processes. Could transition zones between different use types throughout the building create an edge system that creates interdependent relationships and fosters a skills ecosystem? The User Need being addressed here is the creation of a/an common area(s) within the building through which interdependent relationships between different businesses can form. Figure 18 recaps the design principles recently discussed. These, alongside the concepts of compression, flexibility, and mechanization will be the drivers for the design of the common area atriums in this building.
Related design principles:
- Edges are zones where materials, energy, and information accumulate.
- Edges support diversity because it is easy to find resources that meet needs for survival and well-being.
- Wide transition zones are more robust and resilient than sharp transition zones.
- Adjusting “perforations” in a transition zone influences rates of material, energy, and information transfer.
- Highly interconnected relationships result in robust transition zones.
Figure 17 – Edge Condition Design Principle. Note: Image created by HOK Group Inc. and Biomimicry Group Inc.
The stair cores serve a necessary purpose for egress codes, but do not necessarily promote any sophisticated qualities in terms of user interaction or aesthetics. So to create a more robust “edge-gradient” between different levels, interior non-fire stairs will be placed. The maximum travel distance to an exit in an un-sprinklered building of this type is 200 feet. This condition is currently met by the existing stair cores. The stair interior of the building was not factored into this study as it does not exit to the exterior. Figure 19 shows a typical floor plate and the location of the existing stairways.
Figure 18 – Typical Floor Plate and Existing Stairwells. Note: Image Created by Luke Beck
The next ‘overlay’ being used is one that studies potential edge zones supporting both horizontal and vertical user movement through the building. This study was completed in tandem with the analysis of the interaction of natural light with the building which is discussed in the next section (5.3), and only reads like a linear process in the paper. So the suggested edge locations are based on more inputs than simply spatial planning and codes. The final overlay studies potential points of interaction in the edge
conditions shown in the second overlay. The potential user interactions will be discussed in the paragraph regarding novelty and aesthetics in space as these temporal interactions will be a result of the performance of the design. As discussed previously, it is the performance of a particular set of design strategies that will be informing novelty and aesthetics in this project.
5.2.4.2 Space and ‘Build-ability’
To examine levels of build-ability, the qualities of compression, flexibility and mechanization will be used as drivers. To study the implementation of each of these tectonic qualities, a set of User Needs to support the program at the edge/condition/atria were inferred: At these atrium areas, vertical circulation will occur between levels and horizontal circulation will occur between various ‘firms’ within the building. These atriums will also host common space and shared resources such as meeting areas.
5.2.4.3 Space and Novelty/Aesthetics
Where then, does the issue of novelty/aesthetics come in to play, and how is it represented? This has been a recurring theme in much literature regarding sustainable architecture. It is argued in this Thesis that the design strategy for this building reuse is about performance. Rather than exploring the architecture of this building as an artifact, it is being explored as a translator for various environmental forces, or, as described by Kiel Moe, a capture, channel, and composition device.
5.3 Light
5.3.1 Constraints
Sunlight has numerous constraints, for the purposes of this study, it is being considered as a function of time (both diurnally and annually) and space (interior and exterior).
5.3.2 Functions
Although it can serve numerous functions, for clarity purposes these have been grouped into the categories of Illumination, Heating, and Energy (either for production or assisting in conservation of non-renewable sources). These categories can be further parsed; for example: If a building’s structural interaction with light can be considered to Filter, Manipulate, or Exclude (explained next); these actions could, either individually or coupled, create instances of direct illumination, indirect, ambient, etc.
5.3.3 Interaction with the Built Environment
According to Marston-Fitch (p.117), buildings relate to their Luminous Environment in three ways at the structural level. These are Light Exclusion in which light is prevented from accessing a space, Light Manipulation in which direct light is diffused or altered in some way to achieve a specific objective, and Light Filtration where light is allow to pass through a space with little alteration other than filtering out qualities such as heat (an example would be heat-rejecting glass).
5.3.4 Analysis and Generation
The siting of this building allows for generous South-East and South-West exposure.
The combination of buildings to create the main “building” has resulted in a collectively deep floor-plate. Subsequently much of the building’s interior will not have access to natural light.
Zone A: This zone is characterized as having gratuitous direct solar exposure and relatively consistent exposure across four seasons. In terms of orientation, this zone is located at the southern corner of the building and extends along the southeast and southwest corners; this includes the entire roof plate as well. This zone yields the possibilities of harvesting sunlight for illumination, heating, and energy production.
Figure 19 – Zone A. Note Image created by Luke Beck
Zone B: This zone has variable and inconsistent solar exposure daily, and across seasons. Located at the east and west corners of the building and extending slightly towards the north and west corners, these sections of the façade will be impacted by direct light as the sun sinks lower in the sky in the morning and evening. Short durations of exposure limit the usability of light throughout the day and the low angle of the sun during times of exposure will generally require the exclusion of this light to prevent glare etc.
Figure 20 – Zone B. Note Image created by Luke Beck
Figure 21 – Zone C. Note Image created by Luke Beck
Zone C: Encompassing the north side of the building, this zone will have access to indirect light throughout the day.
Zone D: This final zone includes all interior spaces with no current access to sunlight.
As for the generation of design decisions, the concept of dispersed atria through the building will be considered. Again this is not the only potential optimization of sunlight in the building, but it serves as an example to discuss how this ‘force’ can be captured, channeled and composed in the design. These atria will be analyzed based on the three criteria of addressing (a) user need(s), build-ability, and novelty/aesthetics.
5.3.4.1 Light and User Needs
While there are numerous ways in which light can be channeled through the building to assist various programmatic goals, this study focuses on implementing atria at strategic locations to link different portions of program clusters both vertically and horizontally in the building. The basement and first floor of the building will generally host Centers of Making housing amenities for 3D printing, CNC manufacturing and other potential uses such as wood working. At the lowest levels of the building and especially toward its core, natural light will not be readily available which is acceptable as production tasks will require a more consistent quality of light provided by artificial sources. The atria extending down from upper levels will create breakout spaces with some ambient daylight filtering from above as well as create some lines of sight and
Figure 22 – Zone D. Note Image created by Luke Beck
circulation (excluding enclosed fire stairs) from the upper business areas into the Centers of Making.
Figure 23 – Potential Atria Locations I. Note: Image created by Luke Beck
Figure 24 – Potential Atria Locations II. Note: Image created by Luke Beck
5.3.4.2 Light and ‘Build-ability’
Dimitris Theodossopoulos discusses design interventions such as atria in Structural Design in Building Conservation. Regarding new space enclosures, Theodossopoulos (p.138) states: “roofs over open internal spaces or atria in a historic (read ‘existing’ for this project) building are designed to requalify, often radically, the original design by providing more enclosed areas or rearranging access to the building.” He proceeds to discuss several issues that should be addressed in these types of interventions which include: design process and form, structural layout and materiality, construction processes, and environmental performance. These are examined as they pertain to a basic example atrium in the building under study. Since the ‘build-ability’ issues will directly influence the aesthetics; this discussion will be continued in the following section regarding Light and Novelty/Aesthetics.
5.3.4.3 Light and Novelty/Aesthetics
Building off of the public edge condition discussed in the section 5.2, a glazed roof will be examined over one of the atria locations, in this case, over the middle portion of the building as seen in figure 26. This particular area of study involves all four of the previously described daylight zones.
Figure 25 – Atrium Study Locations I. Note: Image created by Luke Beck
To create these atria the roof plate will be broken. Since this design intervention will serve mainly to allow the passage of light though various levels of the building, the existing structural field should not need to be altered drastically. Specific information regarding the construction of this building was difficult to obtain, but some inferences were made, given its date of construction, 1895, and based on information from the book The Design of Steel Mill Buildings and the Calculations of Stresses in Framed Structures published in 1903 by engineer Milo S. Ketchum. The decision to use assumptions regarding the construction of this building is being justified on the grounds that this Thesis only seeks to explore conceptual design strategies. Ketchum (p. 1) divides steel mill buildings into three classes: steel frame mill buildings, steel frame mill buildings with masonry filled walls, and mill buildings with steel beams resting on load bearing masonry walls. Based on the building’s height and brick envelope, it is likely and therefore inferred that this building has a steel frame with masonry filled walls.
The glazed atrium roof will cover a roughly 40 foot by 80 foot portion of the building. These dimensions were chosen assuming a typical 20 foot steel structural bay, since using multiples of 20 feet would allow the existing structural supports to be utilized in supporting the atrium roof. As for roof form, a simple pitched roof was chosen with a gabled edge at the southeast side to prevent precipitation from falling directly onto the roof below which could be utilized as a public roof terrace.
**Figure 26 – Atrium Section.** Note: Image created by Luke Beck
A trend observed in the Angus Technopole case study was the deliberate distinction made between new structural and material installations and existing ones. This can serve various objectives with one being a desire to preserve the ‘character’ of a structure. While the importance of this is understood, preservation of a structure’s character is not an objective in this project. Rather, tectonic distinctions between new and existing will be made to ease the construction process and to avoid compromising the original structure’s ability to transfer structural loads. While it may be possible to rest a new atrium roof on the existing structural skeleton, it is being proposed that a new structure will be built and sit independent from the existing one.
CONCLUSION
To reiterate the opening sentence: This Thesis began with research into the numerous factors influencing the ‘green’ or sustainable paradigm in Architecture. Some key points taken from the “unpacking” of sustainable architecture as an idea included:
1. There is no single, incontestable ‘green’ or sustainable building type. ‘Green’ is not merely a label that can be attached to a building, but rather a process, understanding, and set of values that is inherent to the architectural process.
2. Many environmental-architecture ‘solutions’ are responses to the social construction of a certain risk. This does not always have to be an environmental risk.
3. Paradigms within the field of architecture will come and go. Architects and Design Professionals must have the ability to cull useful information from the experimentation in the design field during the chaotic times of an emerging paradigm.
The application portion of the project hinged mainly on the first point; which explains sustainable architecture as a process that involves systems thinking at numerous levels, rather than an end product sporting a certain aesthetic. From this strain of thought a methodology was created that allows for a combined systemic and intuitive approach to a design process in which Perennial Environmental Forces act as design drivers. Identifying these forces can be both pragmatic and creative, for instance water is a
tangible issue to which buildings relate, yet other less tangible ‘forces’ such the ways in
which user requirements for space evolve over time could be proposed and analyzed.
To summarize the proposed process:
1. **Identify** environmental forces
2. List their **Constraints** – for example water can be a function of
precipitation, water vapor in the air etc.
3. Brainstorm potential **Functions** – for example water can be used for
heating, cooling, irrigation, de-humidifying etc.
4. List ways that this force typically **Interacts with the Built Environment** – for example; can a building’s tectonics filter this
force? reject it? etc.
5. **Analyze** the ways in which the specific conditions of the building and
site interact with this force
6. **Generate** design strategies to optimize the force’s various functions
based on the criteria of addressing **User Needs, Build-ability, and Novelty/Aesthetics.**
Future Directions
The options discussed in this paper are not exhaustive and the framework is left open to creative exploration. The actual design studies did not include every possible function served by the forces under consideration, mainly due to time constraints. By juxtaposing or overlaying all of these criteria, a very sophisticated and integrated building system could be visualized.
Furthermore there lies the issue of quantifying the usefulness or effectiveness of any of the possible functions. For example, could a metric be created that determines when and where to optimize individual functions and where or not to couple them into a combined design feature or strategy?
This Thesis has hopefully presented the need for a systems based approach to adaptive reuse projects with goals relating to sustainability, and furthermore it hopefully has demonstrated ways in which a process based design approach can yield novelty and aesthetic expression in functional, environmentally reflexive architecture.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
|
I. BRIEF
Continuing research conducted over the last four years, Diploma 2 sets out to invent a new social and aesthetic agenda for ecological architecture, using computation to calibrate environmentally responsive geometries that are able to choreograph both climatic and cultural flows within precarious urban conditions. The unit seeks alternative urban organisational structures to mediate between private interests and government bodies, as a way of transforming stagnant urban forms that are currently disconnected from the local culture and natural environment. In ‘Molecular Revolution in Brazil’, Félix Guattari and Suely Rolnik investigate how micro-political movements escape the ‘standardisation of desire’ imposed by capitalist and autocratic governments, so defining ‘completely original forms of expression’.
Micro-agencies offer an alternative power structure. From the grass-roots organizations that mobilised voters in the Obama campaign, to small-scale slum interventions like those by Alejandro Echeverri in Medelin, Columbia and the Mumbai Waterfronts Centre project in India, to urban planning charity organizations like the Forum for an Alternative Belfast; small agencies are closer to their beneficiaries and faster at responding than macro-organisations. We will collaborate with these micro-organisations, networking between the public and private sectors to create multiple-scaled ‘micro-infrastructures’ that mediate between formal and informal socio-economic, environmental and cultural forces.
Students choose their own site for intervention – a disused site in São Paulo’s centre or urban residue in any other city in the world – proposing their own programmatic, formal and aesthetic ‘protest’ against the dominant cultures controlling a specific urban phenomenon. We will propose new social programs to empower inhabitants, collaborating with local governments, NGOs, and urban activists, such as the Union of Inhabitants of the Paraisópolis shanty-town’s Literacy School, or the champion boxer Garrido’s informal Sports Academy under the viaducts in São Paulo. We will employ the extensive research collected at London School of Economics Urban Age São Paulo Conference. With São Paulo’s emerging as one of the world’s most important new economies, the destitute centre has been the focus of international attention: from Herzog and de Meuron’s proposed new Dance Hall, to Norman Foster’s redesign of the deprived Luz neighbourhood.
Informed by seminars on Guattari and Rolnik’s writing, and the films of Eliane Caffé, the unit will reject subjection to prevailing tendencies in favour of creating personal ‘formal revolutions’. For this choreography of aesthetic, programmatic and environmental negotiations, we will employ generative agency scripting and associative modelling. There will be workshops on Processing with Shajay Bhooshan; environmentally responsive parametric design with Adam Davis of Norman Foster’s Specialist Modelling Group; and environmental structure integration and extensive physical modelling with Lawrence Friesen of Generative Geometry. The unit will collaborate with the AA’s Sustainable Environmental Design programme to conduct testing of environmental structures, including shadow/lighting and ventilation analyses. These design processes will produce controlled emergent spatial effects for a performative architecture that mediates structural, environmental, and circulatory flows, bringing ‘sustainable design’ strategies new civic and cultural relevance, to reclaim and transform stagnant programs, economies and contexts.
BIO:
Anne Save de Beaurecueil and Franklin Lee (www.subdv.com) use computation to generate environmentally responsive geometries for architecture and urban design projects worldwide. They previously taught at the Pratt Institute in New York, and received Master’s Degrees from Columbia University. They have published, exhibited and lectured about their work worldwide, including the Beijing Biennale, the Rotterdam Biennale, the Athens Synthasoris Exhibition, the London Festival of Architecture, and the Festival of Electronic Language (FILE) in São Paulo. The work of Diploma Unit 2 has been featured in AD, ArchiCree, and the AA Agendas 7 Articulated Grounds: Mediating Environment and Culture publication.
II. SUMMARY YEAR SCHEDULE
TERM 1- Autumn Term (12 Weeks)
As described in detail in the full schedule starting on page 4 of this document, Autumn Term is an intense period of both research and computational design workshops. From readings, seminars and critical case study research about micro-agencies, as well as a Unit Trip site analysis, through a personal thesis, students will define new social programs to empower local inhabitants within a chosen precarious urban condition. Parallel to this is the development of environmentally responsive, ecological micro-geometries that structure new intricate ‘inhabited circulation systems’ to remediate the monolithic characteristics of problematic sites and to create the architecture for the proposed new social programs. This formal development will be explored through multiple physical models as well as computational workshops in Parametric Modelling, Processing Attraction Coding, Ecotect Shadow and Daylighting Analysis, Ventilation Analysis, Model Fabrication and Rendering. For 5th years, this work will form the basis for their Technical Studies Thesis.
1.0 MONOLITHIC, REDUNDANT AND RESIDUAL INFRASTRUCTURES:
SITE SELECTION AND DEFINITION OF SITE PROBLEM
2.0 INITIAL PROTEST OF DOMINANT GEOMETRIC AND PROGRAMMATIC ORDER OF SITE
INITIAL PROPOSAL OF ALTERNATIVE ‘MICRO’ PROGRAM AND GEOMETRIC
TRANSFORMATIONS
3.0 INITIAL MOLECULAR TRANSFORMATION OF SOCIAL AND GEOMETRIC ORDERS
3.1 PROGRAM CASE STUDIES - MICRO AGENCY PROJECTS:
Molecular Social Transformations
3.2 MOLECULAR GEOMETRIC TRANSFORMATIONS –
CODED NEW INTRICACIES FOR SITE
3.3 MOLECULAR TRANSFORMATIONS PHYSICAL MODELLING
4.0 SECOND CASE STUDY: ‘SYNCHRONISED’ URBAN GROUND INTERVENTIONS
5.0 CASE STUDY: ‘SYNCHRONISED’ STRUCTURES, MATERIALS + GLOBAL STRATEGIES
6.0 PARAMETRIC MODEL ITERATION – ‘SYNCHRONISED’ GROUND AND STRUCTURE
7.0 UNIT TRIP SITE ANALYSIS
7.1 ENVIRONMENTAL TESTING
7.2 CULTURAL-PROGRAMMATIC INFLUENCES
7.3 CIRCULATORY
8.0 PROGRAM DEFINITION-ENVIRONMENTAL CRITERIA
9.0 ENVIRONMENTAL MEDIATION CASE STUDY-ECOLOGICAL DESIGN
10.0 ENVIRONMENTAL ‘AGENTS’ DRIVING PARAMETRIC ITERATIONS
10.1 ENVIRONMENTALLY-DRIVEN PARAMETRIC GROUND ITERATIONS
10.2 ENVIRONMENTALLY-DRIVEN PARAMETRIC STRUCTURAL ITERATIONS
11.0 ASSEMBLAGE STRATEGIES - NEW SYNCHRONIZATIONS - ENVIRONMENTALLY
MEDIATED STRUCTURED GROUND ITERATIONS
12.0 ‘SMALL-SCALE’ PHYSICAL MODEL OF 11.0 ASSEMBLED STRATEGIES
13.0 PROGRAMMATIC ADAPTATION OF 11.0 ASSEMBLAGE STRATEGY
ACCORDING TO 8.0 PROGRAM DEFINITION
TERM 2 - Spring Term 2010 (10 Weeks)
As described in detail in the full schedule starting on page 12 of this document, Spring Term involves developing sophisticated levels of programmatic and technical details. The first term’s structured-ground architectural organisations will be adapted according to specific site and program criteria. These will then be tested for environmental performance, and further articulated with intricate environmental components to calibrate precise mediations of sunlight, air and water movement, under the guidance of environmental engineers. Structural and material detail will be explored through a series of large scale models, and multiple reviews with structural engineers. Finally, measured plan and section drawings will be developed along with series of evocative interior and exterior perspectives, informed by the graphic design principles of a project program branding exercise. 5th Years will develop further performative models and technical details under the guidance of the Technical Studies Tutors.
14.0 SPECIFIC SITE DEFINITION
15.0 PROJECT PROGRAM BRANDING POSTER COMPETITION
16.0 INITIAL PROGRAM ORGANIZATION+PLAN DIAGRAMS
17.0 ENVIRONMENTAL TESTING OF NEW CONFIGURATION 16.0 TO ASSESS PERFORMANCES
18.0 REFINED SKIN COMPONENT DEFINITION
19.0 TESTING REFINED SKIN COMPONENTS ON GLOBAL 16.0 CONFIGURATION
20.0 "MEDIUM SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL OF 16.0 GLOBAL STRUCTURED GROUND
21.0 A0 'COMPETITION' PANEL LAYOUTS OF PLAN, SECTIONS AND PERSPECTIVES
22.0 "LARGE SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL OF COMPONENTS ON GLOBAL STRUCTURE
TERM 3 - Summer Term (10 Weeks)
As described in detail in the full schedule starting on page 16 of this document, Summer Term involves blowing up in resolution, and producing large scale fabrication physical prototypes, as well as highly detailed plans and sections. Exquisitely rendered perspective views and lighting testing will be used to demonstrate highly sculptural interior ambiences. The projects will both zoom-inwards to define material fabrication details, as well as zoom-outwards to show the larger urban implications in urban site models that position the project in the larger context, including developing phasing and possible funding strategies. Environmental and structural testing will be conducted at multiple scales, guided by our structural and environmental engineers. Students’ theses on micro-agency programs will be further elaborated along with the final portfolios and models, to prepare students for the series of preview and final table reviews that take place this term. 5th Years produce multiple fabrication details, and conduct detailed structural and environmental analyses, to demonstrate a rigorous degree of technical control in the production of their final Technical Studies Thesis. Everyone will produce a final ‘micro-agency’ manual book and large scale project panels for the end of the year exhibit.
23.0 "EXTRA LARGE SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL-COMPONENT ON FULL GLOBAL
24.0 STRUCTURE-SKIN-COMPONENT: TESTING, ADJUSTMENT, DETAILS AND FABRICATION
25.0 URBAN CONTEXT SITE MODEL
III. TENTATIVE FULL YEAR SCHEDULE
TERM 1 (T1)- Autumn Term (12 Weeks)
T1- Week 1 28th September – 4th October
THURSDAY OCTOBER 1 – INTRODUCTION
1.0 MONOLITHIC, REDUNDANT AND RESIDUAL INFRASTRUCTURES:
SITE SELECTION AND DEFINITION OF SITE PROBLEM:
Select one’s own monolithic, deficient, residual infrastructural or building site, or select among the sites within the São Paulo’s derelict downtown, and identify the major problems to address- i.e. Environmental pollution, Social disintegration, Economic collapse, Effects of global warming, Impacts of natural disaster, Ecological degradation, Civil unrest. What were the dominant political, economic orders responsible for these problems, and how might the problems be reversed, how might a new ‘individualization’ be reclaimed? Are there existing micro-agencies or ones that can be proposed to address these issues? For example, specific problematic site conditions might include the lack of social interconnectivity, partial-vacancy, decaying buildings, poor environmental performance, and/or the basic lack of integration between architecture, nature and infrastructure.
2.0 INITIAL PROTEST DOMINANT GEOMETRIC AND PROGRAMMATIC ORDER OF SITE-
INITIAL PROPOSAL OF ALTERNATIVE ‘MICRO’ PROGRAM AND GEOMETRIC TRANSFORMATIONS
Identify the dominant GEOMETRY and SOCIAL ORDERS of the site and how they might be contributing to the problems of the site. Create your protest against the dominant, monolithic orders, define your proposed ‘molecular revolution’: the programmatic and geometric alternative, iterations, transformations using the base dominant geometry as a starting point.
FRIDAY OCTOBER 2 – CLASS REGISTRATION FOR:
- History and Theory Studies: Myths and Theories of Sustainable Architecture Simos Yannas
- Media Studies – Coding As Thought Process/Emergence - Shajay Bhooshan
- Technical Studies: Environmental Modeling & Simulation - Simos Yannas
SEMINAR: Micro-Agencies – GILSON RODRIGUES, President, Union of Inhabitants of Paraisópolis Favela (UMCP).
READINGS FOR TUESDAY OCTOBER 6TH:
-Guattari, Félix and Rolnik, Suely, Molecular Revolution in Brazil, (Los Angeles: Semiotext(e) Foreign Agents Series, 2008) PAGES (9-11- Preface, 35-42 “Subjectivity and History”, 258-261)
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY OCTOBER 6TH:
1.1 SITE SELECTION DRAWING-DIAGRAMS - Map, Site Section, Photos, Agencies, etc.
1.2 PROTEST + PROPOSED PROGRAM TEXT: Define site, what were the dominant political, economic orders responsible for these problems, and how might they be reversed? Describe history, agencies at play in the area, proposed alternative program.
2.1 GEOMETRIC SITE ABSTRACTION (A2 (2-A3) sheets) - 3D MODELLING - Start to abstract, or ‘de-territorialize’ the site into the basic problematic geometry. (i.e. Piscinão-the singular bowl)
SITES SÃO PAULO (SEE DOCUMENTATION):
SITE A: UNDER THE VIADUCTS - MICRO AGENCY: GUARRIDO ACADEMY OF BOX
SITE B: OLD MILITARY CARTEL - MICRO AGENCY: GLICÉRIO NEW SPORTS COMMUNITY
SITE C: PARAISÓPOLIS FAVELA - MICRO AGENCY: UMCP
SITE D: MOINHO FLUMINESE (OLD MILL) - MICRO AGENCY: CHURCH? CRACOLANDIA?
SITE E: WATER RETENTION PISCINÃO – MICRO AGENCY: TO BE DEFINED
FURTHER - SPECIFIC SITE READINGS – SÃO PAULO:
pps. 8-13 (Intro), pps 17-25 (Main Issues- Geography, Density, Transport, Work), pps 39-46 (Inequality), pps. 52-54 (Diversity), pps. 60-64 (Isolation), pps. 70-73 (Exposure), pps. 101-104 (safety), pps. 173-185 (Ideals for Regeneration), 179 (Vertical Slum Regeneration), 201-205 (Bibliography)
Optional-pps. 79-96 (cities comparison), pps.133 (Transport),
http://www.habisp.inf.br/—(site with data on various precarious sites in city)
SITE A: UNDER THE VIADUCTS
SITE C: PARAISÓPOLIS FAVELA –(site with data on favela)
MONDAY OCTOBER 5TH: PROCESSING MEDIA STUDIES CLASS SHAJAY
TUESDAY OCTOBER 6TH:
- PIN UP:
1.1 SITE SELECTION
1.2 INITIAL PROTEST + PROPOSED PROGRAM
2.1 GEOMETRIC SITE ABSTRACTION
- START:
3.0 INITIAL MOLECULAR TRANSFORMATION OF SOCIAL AND GEOMETRIC ORDERS
3.1 PROGRAM CASE STUDIES - MICRO AGENCY PROJECTS:
Molecular Social Transformations
Of projects that worked with smaller, micro-agencies, negotiating between formal and informal institutions, proposing programs to help empower local inhabitants and produce social and formal transformations of monolithic and precarious urban conditions.
Examples:
- International Architecture Biennale Rotterdam – Squat City Exhibition Entries
URBANINFONLINE: http://www.urbaninform.net/
- London School of Economics (LSE) Urban Age Award Winners - http://www.urban-age.net/
(AWARDS)
i.e. Mumbai Waterfronts Centre, Triratna Prerana Mandal toilets, Mumbai, Cortico da Rua Solon (vertical slum intervention - pg. 179 Cities and Social Equity, BioUrban (art interventions in favelas), Cooperativa Nova Esperanca recycling centre, etc)
LSE Urban Age Conference Participants:
- MEDELIN SANTO DOMINGO-METRO CABLE, BIBLIOTECA ESPANA, and PUBLIC SPACES
Alejandro Echeverri Director of Special Projects, Medellin (new public programs in favela)
- ELEMENTAL: HALF HOUSE
Alejandro Aravena, Professor, Universidad Catholic and executive director, elemetental, Santiago
(new model for social housing which provides half of house needed, leaving rest for self build)
3.2 GEOMETRIC TRANSFORMATION
Articulating the abstract base geometry through ‘molecular transformations’- to achieve an intricate, performative ‘wet grid’ of new attractions, repulsions, subdivisions, multiplications, extensions, iterations...etc. that help to solve the basic problems of site, both computationally and physically. Group workshop will be held on Tuesday October 6th to initialize parametric transformations.
- TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING WORKSHOP
FRIDAY OCTOBER 9TH:
- PARAMETRIC MODELLING TUTORIALS (SS-EC)
SATURDAY OCTOBER 10TH:
- PROCESSING MEDIA STUDIES CLASS SHAJAY
SEMINAR (TBD): Molecular Revolutions and New geometric Intricacies
READINGS FOR TUESDAY OCTOBER 13TH:
- Save de Beaurecueil, Anne and Lee, Franklin. Liquid Urbanism (New York: Pratt Institute Graduate School of Architecture Publications, 2005) (pps. 12-14)
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY OCTOBER 13TH:
3.1 MOLECULAR SOCIAL TRANSFORMATIONS PROGRAM CASES
Plans, sections, axos
3.2 MOLECULAR GEOMETRIC TRANSFORMATIONS
3d parametric modelling and or coded micro agency computations
3.3 MOLECULAR TRANSFORMATIONS (PHYSICAL MODEL)
Abstract Studies (rapid prototype+wood)
3.4 TRANSFORMATIONS-TEXT
REDEFINE 1.2 PROPOSED PROGRAM according to 3.1 research.
MONDAY OCTOBER 12TH: PROCESSING MEDIA STUDIES CLASS SHAJAY
- PIN UP:
3.1 MOLECULAR SOCIAL TRANSFORMATIONS CASE STUDIES Plans, sections, axos
3.2 MOLECULAR GEOMETRIC TRANSFORMATIONS 3d parametric modelling and or coded micro agency computations
3.3 MOLECULAR TRANSFORMATIONS (PHYSICAL MODEL) Abstract Studies (rapid prototype+wood)
3.4 MOLECULAR TRANSFORMATIONS- TEXT
REDEFINE 1.2 PROPOSED PROGRAM according to 3.1 research.
- START:
4.0 SECOND CASE STUDY: ‘SYNCHRONISED’ URBAN GROUND INTERVENTIONS:
Analyse intricate ground circulation/organizations and/or infrastructure systems, that promote
1. Multiple levels of accessibility, (multi-nodal, multi-branching, multiple-speeds) and
2. A choreographed spatial-sculpting that both could resolve the defined 1.0 SITE PROBLEM, and relate to your proposed 2.0 PROPOSED PROGRAM PROTEST: A. Identify either a ‘ground’ building/structure type, a general ground organization, or a general geometric ground strategy and B. a specific case study. I.E. A. General types (spirals, caves, ramps, berms, atriums, highway interchanges...etc) I.E. B. specific case study: SAMPLES- FIND YOUR OWN AS WELL- Diller and Scofidio (MIS) Museum of Image and Sound (Rio de Janeiro), Jean Nouvel - La Philharmonie de Paris in La Villette, Ben Van Berkel Mercedes Benz Museum, Toyo Ito Island City Central Park Grin Grin, Snohetra Oslo Opera House, Centro Cultural de São Paulo, Paris Opera House Stair, Spanish Steps, Chambord Stairs, flowing Niemeyer ramps and ground systems, Gaudi atriums and balconies, Scharoum Auditorium, Miralles Plazas, Seattle Library, Zaha Hadid Cardiff Opera House, other Zaha Hadid ground projects, etc.
- TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING WORKSHOP – ADAM DAVIS
FRIDAY OCTOBER 16TH:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- PARAMETRIC MODELLING TUTORIALS (SS-EC)
- ECOTECT RADIENCE TUTORIAL (SS-EC)
SATURDAY OCTOBER 17TH: PROCESSING MEDIA STUDIES CLASS SHAJAY
SEMINAR: (TBD) Urban Transformations - Philip Rode, London School of Economics
Editor: Cities and Social Equity - Inequality, Territory and Urban Form
READINGS: FOR TUESDAY OCTOBER 20TH:
GROUND CASE STUDY SOURCES:
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY OCTOBER 20TH:
4.1 GROUND CASE STUDIES - Portfolio sheets of diagram plans, sections, axos demonstrating different geometric parameters and variations (Citing dimensions and other numerical relations) of ground types relating to site problem. Draw Vectors tracing all the different flows of movement.
4.2 GROUND CASE STUDIES – TEXT word document describing ground case study research
MONDAY OCTOBER 19th: PROCESSING MEDIA STUDIES CLASS SHAJAY
TUESDAY OCTOBER 20th:
- PIN UP:
4.1 GROUND CASE STUDIES - Portfolio sheets of diagram plans, sections, axos demonstrating different geometric parameters and variations (Citing dimensions and other numerical relations) of ground types relating to site problem. Draw Vectors tracing all the different flows of movement.
- START:
5.0 CASE STUDY: ‘SYNCHRONISED’ STRUCTURES, MATERIALS + GLOBAL STRATEGIES
Analyze an ‘articulated’, intricate, and multiple-branching structural system, or overall ‘global’ form organization, that either addresses the defined 1.0 SITE PROBLEM, or that is of special interest to the student. Identify Material Interest-Manufacturer Contact. i.e. Branching structures, multiple-suspension, cantilevers, Neto’s form-found sculptures, multi-parabolic space, arches, catenaries, compressive rammed earth, retaining walls, Japanese civil engineering, dams, bridges, Japanese joinery, casting, bundled tubes, etc.
-TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING WORKSHOP – ADAM DAVIS
FRIDAY OCTOBER 23rd:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- PARAMETRIC MODELLING TUTORIALS (SS-EC)
- ECOTECT RADIENCE TUTORIAL (SS)
SATURDAY OCTOBER 24th: PROCESSING MEDIA STUDIES CLASS SHAJAY
READINGS FOR TUESDAY OCTOBER 27TH:
INTRICATE STRUCTURE CASE STUDY SOURCES:
- Kaijima, Sawako and Michalatos, Panagiotis, “Simplexity Field: Interface between construction disciplines”
- Mark, Robert, Experiments in Gothic Architecture
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY OCTOBER 27TH:
5.1 STRUCTURE CASE STUDY - Portfolio sheets of diagram plans, sections, axos demonstrating different geometric parameters and variations (Citing dimensions and other numerical relations). Draw Vectors tracing structural flows, distinguishing between TENSION AND COMPRESSION.
5.2 STRUCTURE CASE STUDY – TEXT word document describing structure case study.
T1- Week 5
26th – 1st November
MONDAY OCTOBER 26TH
PROCESSING MEDIA STUDIES CLASS SHAJAY
TUESDAY OCTOBER 27TH
- PIN UP:
5.1 STRUCTURE CASE STUDY - Portfolio sheets of diagram plans, sections, axos demonstrating different geometric parameters and variations (Citing dimensions and other numerical relations). Draw Vectors tracing structural flows, distinguishing between TENSION AND COMPRESSION.
5.2 STRUCTURE CASE STUDY – TEXT describing structure case study.
- START:
6.0 PARAMETRIC MODEL ITERATIONS
(Choreographing Variability and Responsiveness at Multiple Scales)
6.1 PARAMETRIC SYNCHRONISED GROUND ITERATIONS
of 3.2 Molecular Geometric Transformation, introducing GROUND strategies of 4.1 GROUND CASE STUDY
6.2 PARAMETRIC SYNCHRONISED STRUCTURAL/MATERIAL ITERATIONS
of 3.2 Molecular Geometric Transformation, introducing STRUCTURAL logics of 5.1 STRUCTURE CASE STUDY
- TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING WORKSHOP – ADAM DAVIS
- TUTORIAL CFD WIND ANALYSIS (SS)
WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 28TH
ECOTECT SOLAR STUDIES TUTORIAL – SIMOS YANNAS
FRIDAY OCTOBER 31ST
DEPART – UNIT TRIP
READINGS: (IN PREPARATION FOR BRAZIL TRIP)
- Campos, Alexandre, Teixera, Carlos M. And Marquez, Renata: Collateral Spaces (Belo Horizonte: InstitutoCidadesCriativas/ICC, 2008)
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY NOVEMBER 2ND:
6.0 Digital and portfolio formatted sheet of 3d parametric model variations, documenting set up system and iterations of:
6.1 PARAMETRIC SYNCHRONISED GROUND ITERATIONS
6.2 PARAMETRIC SYNCHRONISED STRUCTURAL/MATERIAL ITERATIONS
T1- Week 6
2nd – 8th November (OPEN WEEK-NO CLASSES)
TRIP TO BRAZIL- DAY SCHEDULE T.B.D. (OR WEEK FOR TRAVEL TO OTHER SITES)
SITE VISITS SÃO PAULO, MEETING WITH MICRO-AGENCIES, CITY PLANNING DEPARTMENT, PIN-UP AND WORKSHOP WITH PROFESSOR IGOR GUATELLI (Author, Condensores Urbanos) AND STUDENTS FROM MACKENZIE UNIVERSITY ARCHITECTURE SCHOOL, ON-SITE ENVIRONMENTAL TESTING, AND STUDY OF REFERENCE PROJECTS.
(OPTIONAL SIDE TRIPS TO RIO DE JANEIRO AND BRASILIA)
TUESDAY NOVEMBER 3RD
- PIN UP:
6.0 Digital and portfolio formatted sheet of 3d parametric model variations, documenting set up system and iterations of:
6.1 PARAMETRIC SYNCHRONISED GROUND ITERATIONS
6.2 PARAMETRIC SYNCHRONISED STRUCTURAL/MATERIAL ITERATIONS
- START:
7.0 SITE ANALYSIS
7.1 ENVIRONMENTAL TESTING
7.2 CULTURAL-PROGRAMMATIC INFLUENCES
7.3 CIRCULATORY
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY NOVEMBER 10TH:
7.0 SITE ANALYSIS Portfolio sheets of diagram plans, sections, axos
7.1 ENVIRONMENTAL TESTING Ecotect Shadow Analysis, Solar Radiation Analysis, C.F.D. Wind Analysis, Interior Daylighting Radiance Analysis, and any on-site testing of sound, light, humidity and temperature.
7.2 CULTURAL-PROGRAMMATIC INFLUENCES Identify one's own particular interest from the site, for example, research specific local environmental, material, cultural, programmatic, or circulatory conditions. These will be used to inform the 'Cultural -Component Development'.
7.3 CIRCULATORY Vector analysis of main programmatic land use, and different types of pedestrian, vehicular and public transportation flows and terminals.
T1- Week 7 9th – 15th November
MONDAY NOVEMBER 9TH: OPTIONAL PROCESSING MEDIA STUDIES CLASS SHAJAY
TUESDAY NOVEMBER 10TH:
- PIN UP:
7.0 SITE ANALYSIS
7.1 ENVIRONMENTAL TESTING
7.2 CULTURAL-PROGRAMMATIC INFLUENCES
7.3 CIRCULATORY
- START:
8.0 PROGRAM DEFINITION
PROGRAMMATIC - ENVIRONMENTAL-CIRCULATORY RATING MATRIX:
9.0 ENVIRONMENTAL MEDIATION CASE STUDY
- TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING WORKSHOP – ADAM DAVIS
WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 11TH: ECOTECT DAYLIGHTING TUTORIAL – SIMOS YANNAS
FRIDAY NOVEMBER 13TH:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- PARAMETRIC MODELLING TUTORIALS (SS-EC)
SEMINAR: (TBD) Sustainable Environmental Design(SED) Professor: Joana Gonçalves
READINGS FOR TUESDAY NOVEMBER 17TH:
-See Environmental Sources on Reading List for more readings on Environmental Mediation
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY NOVEMBER 17TH:
8.0 PROGRAM DEFINITION
Portfolio sheet of PROGRAMMATIC - ENVIRONMENTAL-CIRCULATORY RATING MATRIX:
Define specific environmental and accessibility performances needed for each type of program. (Consult Neuffert and other specific program case studies for areas and organisational data)
9.0 ENVIRONMENTAL MEDIATION CASE STUDY - Portfolio sheets of diagram plans, sections, axos, indicating the vector and angles of sun and wind forces. Choose an environmental mediation system that would help enable the proposed program conditions. i.e. Terraced gardens or green roofs for urban agriculture, shade systems for more small market canopies, etc.
T1- Week 8 16th – 22nd November
MONDAY NOVEMBER 16TH: PROCESSING MEDIA STUDIES CLASS SHAJAY
TUESDAY NOVEMBER 17TH:
- PIN UP:
8.0 PROGRAM DEFINITION
9.0 ENVIRONMENTAL MEDIATION CASE STUDY
- START:
10.0 ENVIRONMENTAL ‘AGENTS’ DRIVING PARAMETRIC ITERATIONS
10.1 Environmentally-Driven Parametric Ground Iterations
10.2 Environmentally-Driven Parametric Structural Iterations
- Tutorial Parametric Modelling Workshop – Adam Davis
Friday November 20th
- Individual Tutorials
- Parametric Modelling Tutorials (SS-EC)
- Rendering and Physical Modelling Tutorials (SS)
Seminar: (TBD) Generative Geometry - Lawrence Friesen:
Parametric Structural and Environmental Mediation
Deliverables for Tuesday November 24th:
10.0 Environmental ‘Agents’ Driving Parametric Iterations
10.1 Environmentally-Driven Parametric Ground Iterations
10.2 Environmentally-Driven Parametric Structural Iterations
Portfolio sheets of catalogue-matrix of 3D iterations:
Using your 6.1 Parametric Synchronised Ground Iterations
and your 6.2 Parametric Synchronised Structural/Material Iterations,
start to orient these according to specific site conditions, sun, wind, drainage, etc.
Use scripted parametric solar and wind models within parametric software platform
to start to drive specific geometric environmental responses
of your GROUND AND STRUCTURAL model according to
solar and other environmental forces for specific days and hours.
Document a full catalogue of effects.
T1 - Week 9
23rd – 29th November
Monday November 23rd: Processing Media Studies Class Shajay
Tuesday November 24th:
- Pin Up:
10.0 Environmental ‘Agents’ Driving Parametric Iterations
10.1 Environmentally-Driven Parametric Ground Iterations
10.2 Environmentally-Driven Parametric Structural Iterations
- Start:
11.0 Assemblage Strategies - New Synchronizations
- Tutorial Parametric Modelling Workshop – Adam Davis
Friday November 27th
- Individual Tutorials
- Parametric Modelling Tutorials (SS-EC)
- Rendering and Physical Modelling Tutorials (SS)
Deliverables for Tuesday December 1st:
Portfolio sheets of catalogue-matrix of 3D iterations: documenting set up system and numerical
input and output of the transformations.
11.0 Assemblage Strategies - New Synchronizations
Explore different assemblage strategies to merge together the parametric, environmentally driven
ground and structural models completed thus far, using and transforming site geometry.
Sample assemblage strategies might include: proliferation, superposition, blending, collage, or
weaving, and might be structured using the following part to whole relationships:
1. Whole:10.2_Environmental Structure+Part:10.1 Environmental Ground
2. Whole:10.1_Environmental Ground+Part:10.2 Environmental Structure
3. Whole:10.1_Environmental Ground+Whole:10.2 Environmental Structure
T1 - Week 10
30th November – 6th December
Tuesday December 1st:
- Pin Up:
11.0 Assemblage Strategies - New Synchronizations
- Start:
12.0 ‘Small-Scale’ Physical Model of 11.0 Assembled Strategies
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY DECEMBER 8TH:
PROGRESS ON
12.0 ‘SMALL-SCALE’ PHYSICAL MODEL OF 11.0 ASSEMBLED STRATEGIES
(FINAL MODELS DUE DECEMBER 11TH)
Initiate fabrication preparation and build physical model based on one of the assemblage strategies of the environmentally conditioned structure-ground hybrid above.
-5th YEARS: Initial TS THESIS PREPARATION OUTLINE REVIEW
T1- Week 11
TUESDAY DECEMBER 8th:
-PIN UP:
PROGRESS ON
12.0 ‘SMALL-SCALE’ PHYSICAL MODEL OF 11.0 ASSEMBLED STRATEGIES
-START:
13.0 PROGRAMMATIC ADAPTATION OF 11.0 ASSEMBLAGE STRATEGY
ACCORDING TO 8.0 PROGRAM DEFINITION
END OF TERM1-FINAL REVIEW PORTFOLIO PREPARATIONS OF 1.0 – 13.0
FRIDAY DECEMBER 11TH:
REVIEW: Buro Happold Structural Engineer - John Noel (tbd)
OF 12.0 ‘SMALL-SCALE’ PHYSICAL MODEL OF 11.0 ASSEMBLED STRATEGIES
SEMINAR-WORKSHOP: GRAPHIC DESIGN SOCIAL PROJECT BRANDING
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY DECEMBER 15TH:
13.0 PROGRAMMATIC ADAPTATION OF 11.0 ASSEMBLAGE STRATEGY
ACCORDING TO 8.0 PROGRAM DEFINITION
Use parametric controls to adapt and transform the 11.0 Environmentally driven global ground-structure hybrid to address program organisation issues identified in 8.0 Program Definition.
END OF TERM1-FINAL REVIEW PORTFOLIO PREPARATIONS OF 1.0 – 13.0
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION
T1- Week 12
TUESDAY DECEMBER 15th:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS PREPARATION FOR FINAL REVIEW
FRIDAY DECEMBER 18th:
TERM 1 FINAL REVIEW of 1.0 - 13.0
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION
DELIVERABLES FOR TUESDAY FRIDAY JANUARY 15TH:
14.0 SPECIFIC SITE DEFINITION
Print out full-scale existing city plan, site-plan, building scale plans and section(s) of site choice.
EXISTING SITE PHYSICAL MODEL
TERM 2 (T2) - Spring Term 2010 (10 Weeks) TENTATIVE OUTLINE FULL SCHEDULE
T2 - Week 1
11th – 17th January
HTS/TS Submission Hand-In Week
FRIDAY JANUARY 15th:
- PIN UP:
14.0 SPECIFIC SITE DEFINITION
Print out full-scale existing city plan, site-plan, building scale plans and section(s) of site choice.
EXISTING SITE PHYSICAL MODEL
- START:
15.0 PROJECT PROGRAM BRANDING POSTER COMPETITION – DUE JANUARY 22ND
SEMINAR (TBD) GRAPHIC DESIGN BRANDING STRATEGIES
T2 - Week 2
18th – 24th January
TUESDAY JANUARY 19th:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING (SS-EC)
FRIDAY JANUARY 22TH:
- PIN UP:
15.0 PROJECT PROGRAM BRANDING POSTER COMPETITION JURY
PRIZE- 100 POUNDS IN RAPID PROTOTYPE LAB
- START:
16.0 INITIAL PROGRAM ORGANIZATION+PLAN DIAGRAMS
ADAPTING/ADJUSTING 13.0 SYNCHRONIZED GROUND-STRUCTURE-PROGRAM STRATEGY TO SPECIFIC SITE CONSTRAINTS AND DETAILED PROGRAM DEFINITIONS
T2 - Week 3
25th – 31st January
TUESDAY JANUARY 26TH:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING WORKSHOP (SS-EC)
- MATERIAL FABRICATION PHYSICAL MODELS
FRIDAY JANUARY 29TH:
- PIN UP:
16.0 INITIAL PROGRAM ORGANIZATION PLAN DIAGRAMS
ADAPTING/ADJUSTING SYNCHRONIZED 13.0 GROUND-STRUCTURE-PROGRAM STRATEGY TO SPECIFIC SITE CONSTRAINTS AND DETAILED PROGRAM DEFINITIONS
- START:
17.0 ENVIRONMENTAL TESTING OF NEW CONFIGURATION 16.0 TO ASSESS PERFORMANCES
17.1 CONCLUSIONS, ADJUSTMENTS AND ITERATIONS
5TH YEAR FULL T.S. THESIS OUTLINE DUE
READINGS FOR FEBRUARY 2ND:
- Save de Beaurecueil, Anne and Lee, Franklin. “Environmental Ornamentation” in Environmental Tectonics: Forming Climatic Change AA Agendas 6
T2 - Week 4
1st – 7th February
TUESDAY FEBRUARY 2ND:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING (SS-EC)
- MATERIAL FABRICATION PHYSICAL MODELS
SEMINAR: ENVIRONMENTAL ORNAMENTATION
Ornamental Mediations between the Smooth and the Articulated + ‘Cultural Components
FRIDAY FEBRUARY 5TH:
- PIN UP:
17.0 ENVIRONMENTAL TESTING OF NEW CONFIGURATION 16.0 TO ASSESS PERFORMANCES
17.1 CONCLUSIONS, ADJUSTMENTS AND ITERATIONS
- START:
18.0 REFINED SKIN COMPONENT DEFINITION:
USING 7.2 CULTURAL MATERIAL RESEARCH + 15.0 BRANDING + SUBDIVISION OF NEW CONFIGURATION 16.0 TO DEFINE A SMALLER SCALE COMPONENT MEDIATION
18.1 VARIATIONS FOR DIFFERENT ORIENTATIONS AND FUNCTIONS
18.2 COMPONENT ZONING STRATEGY ON GLOBAL
18.3 COMPONENT PROLIFERATION ON GLOBAL
T2 - Week 5
8th – 14th February
TUESDAY FEBRUARY 9TH:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING (SS-EC)
- MATERIAL FABRICATION PHYSICAL MODELS
- 5TH YEAR TS GROUP REVIEW WITH TS TUTORS
FRIDAY FEBRUARY 12TH:
- PIN UP:
18.1 VARIATIONS FOR DIFFERENT ORIENTATIONS AND FUNCTIONS
18.2 COMPONENT ZONING STRATEGY ON GLOBAL
18.3 COMPONENT PROLIFERATION ON GLOBAL
- START:
19.0 TESTING REFINED SKIN COMPONENTS ON GLOBAL 16.0 CONFIGURATION
19.1 CONCLUSIONS, ADJUSTMENTS (GLOBAL AND COMPONENT) AND ITERATIONS
T2 - Week 6
15th – 21st February (OPEN JURY)
TUESDAY FEBRUARY 16TH:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- TUTORIAL PARAMETRIC MODELLING (SS-EC)
- MATERIAL FABRICATION PHYSICAL MODELS
FRIDAY FEBRUARY 19TH:
- PIN UP REVIEW:
WITH GENERATIVE GEOMETRY LAWRENCE FREISEN AND SED JOANA GONÇALES
19.0 TESTING REFINED SKIN COMPONENTS ON GLOBAL 16.0 CONFIGURATION
19.1 CONCLUSIONS, ADJUSTMENTS (GLOBAL AND COMPONENT) AND ITERATIONS
- START:
20.0 "MEDIUM SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL OF 16.0 GLOBAL STRUCTURED GROUND
Initiate preparation of physical model of environmentally calibrated 16.0 structure-ground assemblage, (that has been re-configured for specific site and program constraints).
T2 - Week 7
22nd – 28th February
TUESDAY FEBRUARY 23RD:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- MEASURED DRAWING-DRAFTING WORKSHOP (SS-EC)
- 5TH YEAR TS GROUP REVIEW WITH TS TUTORS
FRIDAY FEBRUARY 26TH
REVIEW PROGRESS
20.0 "MEDIUM SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL OF 16.0 GLOBAL STRUCTURED GROUND
- START:
21.0 A1 'COMPETITION' PANEL LAYOUTS OF PLAN, SECTIONS AND PERSPECTIVES
21.0 FULL SCALE REFINED PLAN DEFINITION
21.1 FULL SCALE DETAILED SECTION DEFINITION
21.2 FULL SCALE RENDERED PERSPECTIVES
T2 - Week 8
1st – 7th March
TUESDAY MARCH 2ND:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- MEASURED DRAWING-DRAFTING WORKSHOP
FRIDAY MARCH 5TH:
- REVIEW: Buro Happold Structural Engineer - John Noel (tbd)
20.0 "MEDIUM SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL OF 16.0 GLOBAL STRUCTURED GROUND
- START:
22.0 "LARGE SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL OF COMPONENTS ON GLOBAL STRUCTURE
T2 - Week 9
8th – 14th March
TUESDAY MARCH 9TH:
- INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
- 5TH YEAR TS GROUP REVIEW WITH TS TUTORS
FRIDAY MARCH 12TH:
- PIN UP:
21.0 A1 'COMPETITION' PANEL LAYOUTS OF PLAN, SECTIONS AND PERSPECTIVES
21.0 FULL SCALE REFINED PLAN DEFINITION
21.1 FULL SCALE DETAILED SECTION DEFINITION
21.2 FULL SCALE RENDERED PERSPECTIVES
REVIEW PROGRESS
22.0 "LARGE SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL OF COMPONENTS ON GLOBAL STRUCTURE
Production of physical model that shows both the structured ground as well as the detailed refined skin component system.
T2 - Week 10
15th – 21st March
TUESDAY MARCH 16TH:
INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
END OF TERM 2 FINAL PREPARATION
FRIDAY MARCH 19TH:
END OF TERM 2 FINAL REVIEW OF 1.0-22.0
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION ALL MODELS
OVER BREAK:
5TH YEARS:
23.0 "EXTRA LARGE SCALE" PHYSICAL FABRICATION MODEL
COMPONENT ON FULL GLOBAL STRUCTURED-GROUND STRATEGY
Production of model that shows a blow-up of the fabrication system of both the structured ground
as well as the detailed refined skin component system.
5TH YEARS TS THESIS BOOKLET FORMATTING
4TH YEARS: PREVIEW PREPARATION
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION
ALL MODELS
TERM 3 (T3) - Summer Term (10 Weeks) TENTATIVE OUTLINE FULL SCHEDULE
T3 - Week 1 19th April – 25th April
HTS/TS Submission Hand-In Week
TUESDAY 20TH/WEDNESDAY 21ST APRIL:
4TH YEAR PREVIEWS
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION
ALL MODELS
FRIDAY APRIL 23RD:
TS Tutors 5TH YEAR 'PRE' TS-PREVIEW
5TH YEARS: REVIEW - 23.0 "EXTRA LARGE SCALE" PHYSICAL FABRICATION MODEL
COMPONENT ON FULL GLOBAL STRUCTURED-GROUND STRATEGY
Production of model that shows a blow up of the fabrication system of both the structured ground
as well as the detailed refined skin component system.
5TH YEARS TS THESIS BOOKLET FORMATTING
T3 - Week 2 26th – 2nd May
TUESDAY APRIL 27TH:
-INDIVIDUAL TUTORIALS
FRIDAY APRIL 30TH:
5TH YEAR-PREVIEW PORTFOLIO PRESENTATION PREPARATION
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION
ALL MODELS
UPDATE:
21.0 FULL SCALE REFINED PLAN AND SITE PLAN DEFINITION
21.1 FULL SCALE DETAILED SECTION DEFINITION
21.2 FULL SCALE 3D 'SYSTEM' AXOS AND RENDERED PERSPECTIVES
21.3 THESIS WORD DOCUMENT
4TH YEARS:
-START:
23.0 "EXTRA LARGE SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL-COMPONENT ON FULL GLOBAL
COMPONENT ON FULL GLOBAL STRUCTURED-GROUND STRATEGY
Production of model that shows a blow up of the fabrication system of both the structured ground
as well as the detailed refined skin component system.
5TH YEARS:
SECOND REVIEW- of 23.0 "EXTRA LARGE SCALE" MODEL
T3 - Week 3
3rd – 7th May
TUESDAY 4th/WEDNESDAY 5th MAY:
DIPLOMA PREVIEWS FOR 5TH YEAR/AA DIPLOMA/PART 2
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION
ALL MODELS
-START:
5TH YEARS:
- TS BOOK PREVIEW PREPARATION
24.1 STRUCTURE-SKIN-COMPONENT TESTING AND ADJUSTMENT
24.2 STRUCTURE-SKIN-COMPONENT: DETAILS AND FABRICATION
REVIEW PROGRESS
4TH YEARS:
23.0 "EXTRA LARGE SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL-COMPONENT ON FULL GLOBAL
T3 - Week 4
10th – 14th May
5TH YEAR TS THESIS INTERIM JURY
REVIEW PROGRESS
5TH YEARS- TS BOOK PREVIEW PREPARATION
24.1 STRUCTURE-SKIN-COMPONENT TESTING AND ADJUSTMENT
24.2 STRUCTURE-SKIN-COMPONENT: DETAILS AND FABRICATION
REVIEW PROGRESS
4TH YEARS:
23.0 "EXTRA LARGE SCALE" PHYSICAL MODEL-COMPONENT ON FULL GLOBAL
-START:
24.1 STRUCTURE-SKIN-COMPONENT TESTING AND ADJUSTMENT
24.2 STRUCTURE-SKIN-COMPONENT: DETAILS AND FABRICATION
T3 - Week 5
17th – 21st May
-PIN UP:
5TH YEARS
- TS BOOK PREPARATION
24.1 SKIN-COMPONENT TESTING AND ADJUSTMENT
24.2 SKIN-COMPONENT: DETAILS AND FABRICATION
4TH AND 5TH YEARS:
UPDATE:
21.0 FULL SCALE Refined PLAN and SITE PLAN DEFINITION
21.1 FULL SCALE DETAILED SECTION DEFINITION
21.2 FULL SCALE 3D 'SYSTEM' AXOS AND RENDERED PERSPECTIVES
T3 - Week 6
24th – 28th May
5TH YEAR TS THESIS FINAL JURY
-PIN UP:
4TH YEARS:
24.1 SKIN-COMPONENT TESTING AND ADJUSTMENT
24.2 SKIN-COMPONENT: DETAILS AND FABRICATION
-START:
**4TH + 5TH YEARS:**
25.1 URBAN CONTEXT SITE MODEL
**UPDATE:**
21.0 FULL SCALE REFINED PLAN AND SITE PLAN DEFINITION
21.1 FULL SCALE DETAILED SECTION DEFINITION
21.2 FULL SCALE 3D 'SYSTEM' AXOS AND RENDERED PERSPECTIVES
24.1 SKIN-COMPONENT TESTING AND ADJUSTMENT + INTERIOR VIEWS
---
**T3 - Week 7**
31st May – 4th June
**FINAL JURY**
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION
ALL MODELS
---
**4TH + 5TH YEARS:**
**REVIEW PROGRESS**
25.1 URBAN CONTEXT SITE MODEL
**UPDATE:**
21.0 FULL SCALE REFINED PLAN AND SITE PLAN DEFINITION
21.1 FULL SCALE DETAILED SECTION DEFINITION
21.2 FULL SCALE 3D 'SYSTEM' AXOS AND RENDERED PERSPECTIVES
24.1 SKIN-COMPONENT TESTING AND ADJUSTMENT + INTERIOR VIEWS
---
**4TH YEARS**
PREPARE FOR FINAL END OF YEAR TABLE
---
**T3 - Week 8**
7th – 11th June
**TUESDAY 8TH/WEDNESDAY 9TH JUNE 4TH YEAR END OF YEAR REVIEWS**
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION
ALL MODELS
**THURSDAY 10TH JUNE**
TS5 HIGH PASS JURY
---
**T3 - Week 9**
14th – 18th June
**WEDNESDAY 16TH/THURSDAY 17TH JUNE**
DIPLOMA COMMITTEE
FULL WORD DOCUMENT OF THESIS, FULL PRINTED PORTFOLIO, SLIDE PRESENTATION
**FRIDAY 18TH JUNE**
DIPLOMA HONOURS PRESENTATIONS
---
**T3 - Week 10**
21st June – 25th June
**WEDNESDAY 23RD JUNE**
EXTERNAL EXAMINERS:
AA FINAL EXAMINATION (RIBA/ARB PART 2)
**25th June**
DIPLOMA AWARDS CEREMONY (3.00PM)
OPENING OF END OF YEAR EXHIBITION (6.30PM)
A. **URBAN and SOCIAL THEORY + URBAN DATA**
-Burdett, Ricky and Sudjic, Deyan The Endless City – London School of Economics The Urban Age Project (London: Phaidon Press, 2008)
-Cache, Bernard Earth Moves (Furnishing Territories)
-Davis, Michael Planet of Slums (Verso, 2007)
-Deleuze, Gille. 1000 Plateaus (London: Athlone Press 1988)
-Guattari, Félix and Rolnik, Suely, Molecular Revolution in Brazil. (Los Angeles: Semiotext(e) Foreign Agents Series, 2008)
-Sassen, Saskia A Sociology of Globalization (W.W. Norton and Company Ltd., 2007)
-Save de Beaurecueil, Anne and Lee, Franklin, Liquid Urbanism (New York: Pratt Institute Graduate School of Architecture Publications, 2005)
B. MEDIATED STRUCTURES
-Kaijima, Sawako and Michalatos, Panagiotis, "Simplicity Field: Interface between construction disciplines"
- Ruby, Ilka. Groundscapes: Rediscovery of the ground in contemporary architecture. (Barcelona: Gustavo Gili, 2006.)
C. COMPUTATION RESOURCES
GRASSHOPPER
http://tedngai.net/experiments.html
http://www.grasshopper3d.com/page/tutorials-1
PROCESSING
Books.
http://processing.org/learning/books/index.html
Web-links:
- PROCESSING website. http://processing.org
- Jared Tarbell http://complexification.net/
http://www.levitated.net/
D. BRAZILIAN CULTURAL AND ARCHITECTURAL PRECEDENTS
E. ENVIRONMENTAL DESIGN SOURCES: FROM THE AA MASTERS IN SUSTAINABLE ENVIRONMENTAL DESIGN PROGRAMME:
CASE STUDIES:
- Baird, G. *The Architectural Expression of Environmental Control Systems*
- Hawkes, D and W. Forster. *Architecture, Engineering and Environment*
- Herzog, T. *Solar Energy in Architecture and Planning*
- Slessor, Eco-Tech. *Sustainable Architecture and High Technology*
- Wigginton, M. *Intelligent Skins*
CLIMATOLOGY, URBAN CLIMATOLOGY, MICROCLIMATIC DESIGN:
- Littlefair, P. *Climate Considerations in Building and Urban Design*
- Santamouris, M. *Energy and Climate in the Urban Environment*
- Thomas, R. *Sustainable Urban Design*
ENVIRONMENTAL DESIGN PRINCIPLES
- Lewis, J. *Owen A Green Vitruvius: Principles and Practice of Sustainable Architectural Design*
- Thomas, R. *Environmental Design*
LIGHTING, DAYLIGHTING
- Baker, N. and K. Steemers *Daylight Design of Buildings*.
- Bell, J. and W. Burt *Designing Buildings for Daylight*
- Fontoynont, M. *Daylight Performance of Buildings*
- Littlefair, P. *Designing with Innovative Daylighting*
PASSIVE HATING AND COOLING
-Bowen, A. Passive Cooling
-Givoni, B. Passive and Low Energy Cooling of Buildings
-Santamouris, M. Passive and Low Energy Cooling of Buildings
VENTILATION
-Allard, F. Natural Ventilation in Buildings
F. FILMS- SITES
URBANINFORM:
http://www.urbaninform.net/
http://www.urban-age.net/
http://www.habisp.inf.br/
http://saopauloabandonada.com.br/
Garrido Box Viaduct Project
O Louco dos Viadutos (The madman of the viaducts)
Brazil 2009 Dir. Eliane Caffé
www.tvcultura.com.br/direcoes/o-louco-dos-viadutos
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DvCK4ML9vk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7djDlsmTNY&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQIyhAP1G_g&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UWBpjVMgsw0&feature=related
www.outrosfilmes.com.br
Linha de Passe (2008)
diretores Walter Salles e Daniella Thomas
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=htb3pX-6CVA
Cidade de Deus (2002)
http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi1937440793/
BARBICAN FILM: CINEMA OF BRAZIL: URBAN TALES
http://www.barbican.org.uk/film/series.asp?id=763
The Sign of the City (O Signo da Cidade) (15*) + Q&A
18:00 / Played out against the vast metropolis of São Paulo, this is the engaging story of four people brought together across the city’s airwaves by an astrology radio show.
4 Oct 09 / 18:00 / Cinema 3 Barbican
Jardim Ângela (12A*) + Q&A
18:30 / Enrolled onto an NGO community film-making course, a group of local youngsters from São Paulo’s troubled neighbourhood are tasked with making a film and ponder the dilemma over whether to portray a negative or positive image of the community.
5 October 2009 / 18:30 / Cinema 3 Barbican
Basic Sanitation (Saneamento Básico) (12A*) + Q&A with director Jorge Furtado
20:30 / Superbly acted, this is an upbeat and comic look at social activism by the celebrated Brazilian director Jorge who, his innovative filmmaking approach to the story of a town who need to build a new sewer.
6 October 2009 / 20:30 / Cinema 3 Barbican
Only When I Dance (PG*) + Q&A with director Beadie Finzi
19:30 / An inspiring documentary following two working class Brazilian teenagers from the favelas of Rio as they pursue their ambitions to be world class ballet dancers
This ‘touching, delicate’ (Jason Solomons, The Observer) film follows two working class Brazilian teenagers from the favelas of Rio as they pursue their ambitions to be world class ballet dancers.
8 October 2009 / 19:30 / Cinema 2 Barbican
Estamira
Brazil 2004 Dir. Marcos Prado
This powerful, poetic and award-winning documentary is a portrait of Estamira who has lived and worked for the last twenty years on Jardim Gramacha, Latin America’s largest landfill site in Rio de Janeiro.
Island of Flowers (Ilha das Flores)
Brazil 1989 Dir. Jorge Furtado
Jorge Furado’s acclaimed short is an ironic, yet utterly logical evaluation of the absurdity and inhumanity of social hierarchy in capitalist societies through the journey of a tomato that ends up as waste on a landfill site scoured by impoverished foragers.
Linha de Passe
Brazil 2008 Dir. Walter Salles e Daniella Thomas
The film tells the story of four poverty-stricken half brothers with the same mother, Cleuza but different fathers, who live in a favela neighborhood in São Paulo and have to fight to follow their dreams. Dario seeks the opportunity of a better life with his football skills; Dênis survives as a motorcycle courrier; Dinho works in a filling station and helps at the local church and Reginaldo, although gifted as a football player dreams of becoming a bus driver. Cleuza, pregnant with her fifth child, works as a cleaner for a woman in a middle class area of São Paulo.
You, Me, Garbage and Picasso
Brazil/UK 2009 Dir Karen HarleyJoao Jardim, Lucy Walker
This feature length documentary, filmed over nearly three years, follows the renowned artist Vik Muniz and a group of landfill scavengers on an emotional journey from the America’s biggest garbage dump in Rio de Janeiro to the most prestigious auction houses and museums in the world via the alchemic transformation of garbage into art. Vik’s initial objective was simply to ‘paint’ the people with garbage, however his journey with the scavengers takes him beyond the limits of what art can achieve.
The Architectural Association School of Architecture in London, commonly referred to as the AA, is the oldest independent school of architecture in the UK and one of the most prestigious and competitive in the world. Its wide-ranging programme of exhibitions, lectures, symposia and publications have given it a central position in global discussions and developments within contemporary architectural culture. Find and follow posts tagged architectural association on Tumblr.
Well, AA (Architectural Association) School of Architecture’s Project Review is always on at this time of the year. Unfortunately I can’t be in London this time to see their amazing works. Luckily, AA is, as usual, very good at showing off their stuff, and they’ve made this website up and running for 2011’s Project Review: http://pr2011.aaschool.ac.uk. I am going to get well-inspired! |
The Coherence of Social Style and Musical Creation Among the Aymara in Southern Peru
THOMAS TURINO UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
INTRODUCTION
When I asked Aymara musicians in highland Peru about specific aspects of their musical culture—"Why do you do it that way?"—they most commonly replied: "It is our custom"; "That is the way it is"; "That is the way we do it"; "That is the way our ancestors did it." The character of these responses to a question that, from their perspective, was inappropriate underlines a radically different way of knowing from my own and a particular mode of linking social practice with their mental dispositions, ethos, and worldview.
This way of knowing and the iconicity1 that creates a sense of coherence between behavior and forms in different fields of activity are rooted in the perception of a given worldview as nonarbitrary and, therefore, as a true apprehension of the "natural" organization of the world. In the absence of efficacious competing worldviews, or questions from foreign scholars, the "natural" rationale for a given set of practices often remains undisputed and thus goes without saying (Bourdieu 1977).
In this paper I examine musical practices, aesthetics, and creation among the Aymara in the district of Conima in Puno, Peru, as one realm where their notions of the "natural" are clearly articulated.2 A discussion of the
---
1 An icon is understood here, following C. S. Peirce, to be a nonarbitrary sign that signifies something through some kind of actual resemblance between the sign and the thing signified.
2 The field research upon which this paper is based was conducted in Conima between February, 1985 and May, 1986 with the support of a Fulbright grant which I gratefully acknowledge. I would also like to thank Donna Buchanan, Elisabeth Barnett, and my anonymous readers for their helpful contributions to this paper.
instruments and performance techniques; the social and musical organization of ensembles; the compositional process; and the form of the music itself illustrates the homologous relationship between musical culture and behavior, forms, and values in other realms of activity.
The commonly observed redundancy, and thus coherence, between forms and behavior in different fields of practice within all societies is the result of a circular interaction between internalized and externalized structures. From infancy, individuals within a social group internalize ways of being and conceptions of the "natural" order of the world based on the specific responses to common objective conditions. These internalized dispositions (definitions of reality, bases for action) are continually manifest as concrete images in social behavior and cultural forms. Therefore, social practice and semiotic forms are both products of the internalized dispositions as well as part of the objective conditions that serve as models for reproducing the dispositions within the basic process of socialization (Bourdieu 1977, 1984). This situation creates a certain conformity of vision, and thus a basis for unity, among the members of social groups as well as underlies the consistency of practice between different fields of activity.
The pragmatic and formal levels of Conimeño musical culture are described here in relation to the mental dispositions with which they interact. At the pragmatic level, musical behavior is social behavior. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that the formal outcome of musical activities articulates the same ways of being and dispositions that are found in other fields of practice, and moreover, that there are relationships of iconicity, or resemblance, between the forms in different domains.
Every musical performance in Conima relies for practical realization on, and is a redundant iconic presentation of, the actual social character of the group: structured by, and structuring (by articulation in the social world), their perception of the "natural" way things are. This nearly universal situation explains why music—like many fields of practice—serves as a fundamental identity emblem for social groups as is frequently reported by ethnomusicologists. In Conima, iconicity unites musical form and activity with forms and behaviors in other realms and thereby provides aesthetic potency and meaning through coherence (see Becker and Becker 1981), and also provides the group with a significant means for expressing its essential nature and central concerns in a public arena.
SOCIAL PATTERNS AND COMMUNAL ETHOS IN CONIMA
Conima is a relatively isolated rural Aymara district on the northern shore of Lake Titicaca and the Bolivian border in the province (like a county)
of Huancane on the Peruvian altiplano (12,500 ft.). The district is divided into six indigenous ayllus (political-geographical-religious social units, see Bastien 1978) which are often further subdivided. Each ayllu or formal subdivision has its own rotating political authorities and offices for the local-indigenous religion. These social units are characterized by basically equal intergroup power relations. Subsistence agriculture and herding are the mainstay for the rural Aymara. The town of Conima, serving as the district capital, is inhabited by mestizos. This paper, however, will be restricted to the Aymara who reside in the rural ayllus.
Central to a discussion of Aymara musical culture is the existence of a primary social pattern among them that was first described by Javier Albo (1974) and confirmed for Conima by my own research. The pattern, which generates a whole series of practices, is what Albo calls the "solidarity/factionalism paradox":
In synthesis, the paradox consists on the one hand of the fact that the Aymara have a value of strong group solidarity which has been demonstrated by their collective resistance to cultural disintegration to a degree superior to other Andean groups, and in some cases it has led to the formation of movements with a strong ethnocentric content. On the other hand, however, at the same time, one of the most typical elements in their cultural systems is an internal factionalism, with manifestations in the spheres of the family, the sociopolitical and religious systems, etc., which would seem to lead to the disintegration of the group. (Albo 1974:68)
Among the Aymara in Conima, the solidarity of localized groups is highly emphasized, and the collective is stressed over the individual. Albo notes that the tension created between the individual and the group is alleviated by stressing the individuality and uniqueness of the group itself. Therefore, publicly marking the identity of each community unit is of central concern, and this is accomplished in Conima primarily through musical performance in the larger district-wide fiestas, the main context for social interaction among the different communities.
Albo stresses the importance of reciprocal relationships among individuals in Aymara society as a feature of the solidarity pattern, and he outlines in detail the formal systems of reciprocity (1974:74-78). The most important
---
3Huancane, together with Chucuito to the south of the lake are the two Aymara-speaking provinces in Puno. The Aymara of Huancane are linked culturally with those in Chucuito and Bolivia, but there are also marked regional differences among the various Aymara areas. Although in highland Peru the Aymara are clearly an ethnic minority in comparison with the Quechua, there are some two million Aymara speakers on the Peruvian/Bolivian altiplano, and further south in Bolivia and in Chile (Briggs and Llanque 1982:13).
of these among Conimeños and other Aymara groups (Carter 1967:75) is a
system called ayni in which the same type and quantity of work or goods
received must be returned in kind. Reciprocity—a symmetrical balancing
of relations between actors—is a central basis for social interactions between
community members and between the community and the natural world
(including our conception of supernatural forces; see Alberti and Mayer
1974).
In Conima, emphasis on group solidarity has produced a social style
for relations within communities in which constant patterns of conflict avoid-
ance are manifested, and the role of the individual is downplayed. Hence,
for example, speaking style is soft and indirect; eye contact between speakers
is generally not made; and when talking in groups, the speaker will look at
the ground so as to address no one in particular and everyone at the same
time. People do not typically confront or criticize others publicly, or even
call attention to individuals within group interactions. Conimeños expressly
do not like to stand out or be singled out in group situations as is the case
for individual musicians within a performing ensemble.
As Albo notes, and as I have also observed in Conima, another outcome
of the solidarity pattern is that political and religious offices rotate equally
among adult male community members and equality of opportunity is given
precedence over individual competence for specific tasks and roles (Albo
1974:69). Furthermore, group decisions are reached in a quiet and noncon-
frontational manner; there are usually no debates, no hashing out of dis-
agreements, or direct rejections of ideas or the people who presented them.
The issue on the floor is treated as neutral material to be shaped by each
interested party in turn until consensus is reached. Consistent with the
desire to avoid conflict, if consensus can not be obtained, people begin to
ignore the issue, turning to other matters, or they simply begin leaving for
home (see Albo 1974:69). Particularly relevant here is the fact that consensus
decision making parallels processes of communal musical composition in
basic ways.
The other side of the coin is factionalism within and between social
units which is manifested in explicit competition and sometimes distrust
between the members of different social groups. Rather than seeing fac-
tionalism as a paradox in relation to solidarity as Albo does, however, I
interpret it as growing out of the heightened concern for group solidarity
and the resultant social style of conflict avoidance. Mechanisms for the
resolution of conflict within communities have not been developed; hence,
if there is a serious problem that can not simply be ignored (the typical
way of dealing with conflicts), the dissenting parties split off from the group.
Factionalism within, and competition between social units in Conima
is indeed pronounced at all institutional levels. For example, the district of
Conima as a whole is conceptualized in two halves with three ayllus each. This binary division is indicated by an active separatist movement on the part of three ayllus who wish to split off from Conima and form their own district. In addition, the social separation of the two sides is, at present, clearly articulated by their independent celebration of most fiestas, whereas traditionally the entire district celebrated some major fiestas together.
Many individual ayllus exhibit internal binary or ternary divisions (see Bastien 1978), and a process of continuing fission. For example, the community with which I worked most closely, Putina, is part of Ayllu Sulcata. Sulcata is divided into three formalized subdivisions: Upper, Central, and Lower Sulcata, with the communities of Putina and Huata comprising the latter. As manifested in some fiesta and ritual occasions, Central and Lower Sulcata function as a binary unit with Upper Sulcata operating independently.
Within Lower Sulcata, the communities of Huata and Putina are oppositionally divided yet may function as a cooperative unit depending on the context. For example, Huata and Putina have the same political and religious officials, share the same primary school, and do communal work projects together for the school. But in fiestas, each community has its own performing ensemble, which is specifically in open competition with the other. While Huata and Putina participate together in religious rituals that function to benefit Lower Sulcata as a whole, people in each group often express distrust or dislike for the people of the other community.
Fiesta and ritual occasions involving these two communities often take place in a central (neutral) location on the border between them so that neither will benefit more than the other. This overall ternary structure involving a pattern of binary social opposition with a mediating, centrally-located ritual space between them has a direct parallel in the musical structure of performing ensembles.
**Instrumental Traditions in Conima**
Music and dance, along with weaving, are the primary modes of artistic expression in indigenous Andean society. Within the Peruvian highlands, the department of Puno stands out as one of the richest and most active areas musically. In the district of Conima itself, there is, on the average, one fiesta a month, and often many more variable life-cycle fiestas (e.g., weddings and first haircutting ceremonies) are held around such times. Every community in Conima has its own customs regarding the fiestas of the annual cycle in which it actively performs music and dance, and each has its own performing ensemble. For some events, such as Carnavales and the New Year (January 1), almost all community groups take part; in others such as La Cruz (May 3) and Candelaria (February 2), only two or three communities...
have a tradition of performing. The specific community fiestas are usually centered in the rural ayllus. Performances for the larger fiestas such as Carnavales take place both in the individual communities and in the plaza of the district capital, and it is in the latter context that competition among performing ensembles is made explicit.
Five indigenous types of wind ensemble are central to these events: sikus (double-row panpipes), five-hole pinkillus, six-hole pinkillus (cane duct flutes), tarkas (wooden duct flutes), and pitus or falawatus (transverse cane flutes). Although not nearly of the same prominence within the district as these wind traditions, there are several brass bands that occasionally play at weddings or in mestizo-organized fiestas. Atypical for highland Peru, string music is almost completely absent, and in contrast with Quechua musical culture, vocal music is surprisingly unimportant. Previously two distinct single-row panpipe traditions (kallamachu and loco pallapalla) were performed in Conima as was the chokela (cane end-notched flute), but their performance has become rare in the past three decades (Turino 1987). The five indigenous wind traditions mentioned above, then, comprise the core of Conimeño musical culture (see Figures 1-4).
FIGURE 2. Five-Hole *Pinkillu* Ensemble with *Cajas*
FIGURE 3. *Tarka* Ensemble
FIGURE 4. *Pitu* Ensemble
All of these wind instruments are performed in large ensembles made up of only a single type of melodic instrument (*sikus* with *sikus*, *tarkas* with *tarkas*, etc.). Between four and eight panpipe players accompany the *sikuri* ensembles with *bombos* (large double-headed drums). The *pitu* and *tarka* ensembles are accompanied by Western snare and bass drums, and the *pinkillu* ensembles have a separate *caja* (large indigenous snare drum) section in which the number of players almost equals that of the flute players. The musical ensembles generally range from twelve to, on exceptional occasions, fifty musicians. The performance of a particular instrument type at any given time is strictly dictated by traditional association with given annual and variable fiesta occasions. Each instrumental tradition has between two and seven musical genres that are specific to it, and that are likewise linked to different fiesta contexts (see Figure 5). The performance
---
4 On one occasion only, the Easter fiesta, *sikuri* ensembles are accompanied by Western snare and bass drums for a specific musical genre known as *choclo* (see Turino 1987).
5 With the exception of life-cycle and work related occasions, panpipes are played in the dry season from April through September, the duct flutes from October through March in the rainy season (see Baumann 1982a, 1982b). *Pitus* are played throughout the year. *Sikuri* music is used for weddings in the *ayllus* as well as for first haircutting ceremonies, and *pinkillus* are used for roof-raising fiestas, and these occasions occur throughout the annual cycle.
FIGURE 5. Genres
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Instr. Medium</th>
<th>Sound Features or General Ass.</th>
<th>Fiesta Association</th>
<th>Dance Association</th>
<th>Instrument Association</th>
<th>Use Association</th>
<th>Context of Use</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>SIKUS</td>
<td>a) lentos</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>general</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>b) ligeros</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>general</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>c) choclos</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Pascuas</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>d) imillani</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>May 3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>e) satiri</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>May 15</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>f) marchas</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>general</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>g) dianas</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5-HOLE</td>
<td>a) carnavales*</td>
<td></td>
<td>a) pinkillada*</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Carnaval</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PINKILLUS</td>
<td>b) todos los santos</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Nov. 1, 2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>c) wifala</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Feb. 1, 2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>d) achuqallu</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>varies</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6-HOLE</td>
<td>a) candelaria</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Feb. 1, 2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PINKILLUS</td>
<td>b) año nuevo</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Jan. 1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>TARKAS</td>
<td>a) carnavales*</td>
<td></td>
<td>a) tarkiada*</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Carnaval</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>b) waynos</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Carnaval</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PITUS</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>a) achach'umumu</td>
<td></td>
<td>May 2, 3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>b) pastorsitos</td>
<td></td>
<td>Dec. 25</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
* = synonyms
of these musical instruments is entirely a male domain, although women take part in fiestas as dancers and occasionally as singers.
In Conima, musical performance is a group activity that takes place almost exclusively in public-community fiesta contexts. Men rarely perform music alone in private, even for practice purposes. (The primary exception occurs when a musician is composing a new tune.) Indeed, Conimeños viewed my private musical practice and performance as odd behavior which they never really understood. While musical performance is a group, or communal affair in indigenous Andean society generally, Conima represents an extreme case in contrast with other Peruvian regions where indigenous peasants do perform musical instruments casually for their own enjoyment.
In sikuri, tarka, and pitu ensembles, the instruments are cut to different lengths to perform in parallel harmony. They are organized in three units of three separate voices or voice groups, each with its own name (from smallest to largest): 1) suli; 2) ankuta or malta; and 3) sanja or tayka. In sikuri groups, ideally, nine voices (which are conceptualized in three voice groups) can be used although during the period of my research, the two largest sizes of panpipes were absent because of a shortage of cane of sufficient length. The lengths and pitches of an ensemble's siku tropa (tuned consort) may be changed from one fiesta to the next, and a variance of twenty cents or more on a given pitch between different panpipes is common in the making and blowing of the instruments. In the following chart, the lengths and pitches refer to the longest tube on each instrument, corresponding tubes for each panpipe type maintain the same relationships:
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Panpipe type</th>
<th>Length (cm.)</th>
<th>App. Pitch (Korg)</th>
<th>No. of Pairs</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Suli</td>
<td>13.50</td>
<td>E5</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bajosuli</td>
<td>15.85</td>
<td>C#5</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Contrasuli</td>
<td>19.35</td>
<td>A4</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Malta</td>
<td>27.00</td>
<td>E4</td>
<td>4-6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bajomalta</td>
<td>31.70</td>
<td>C#4</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Contramalta</td>
<td>38.70</td>
<td>A3</td>
<td>1-2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Sanja</td>
<td>54.00</td>
<td>E3</td>
<td>1-2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>(Bajosanja)</td>
<td>63.40</td>
<td>C#3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>(Contrasanja)</td>
<td>77.40</td>
<td>A2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
The tarka and pitu ensembles ideally use three voices each, and there are two arrangements used for the pitus depending on the tradition of specific communities (lowest nonoverblown pitches):
The Coherence of Social Style and Musical Creation
Tarkas Pitus Pitus
Suli E4 C4 C4
Ankuta B3 F3 G3
Tayka E3 C3 C3
For the sikuris, pitu, and tarka ensembles, the center voice or voice group is given prominence and/or distinguished. In sikuri ensembles this is accomplished through volume. Usually, there will be more malta players than any other voice, and the high sulis are symmetrically balanced in volume against the softer sanjas (hence the doubling of the larger panpipes if personnel is available). In pitu ensembles, the central ankuta group is distinguished by pitch as well as by volume. For these ensemble types, Conimeño musicians state that the central malta (or ankuta) is the main melody carrying voice and all other voices are "accompaniment" and heard in relation to it. Ideally in tarka ensembles, all voices are to be equal in volume, and the ankutas are distinguished by pitch alone. In each case, the two periphery units are related iconically in terms of pitch class, but stand in binary opposition in terms of emic concepts of big and small and sometimes, as borrowed from Western conception, high and low pitch. The important issue, however, is that Conimeño musicians conceptualize the parallel harmonic organization of musical ensembles from the center voice (or voice group) outward to the higher and lower voices.
This manner of binary organization around a marked center unit has many parallels in other spheres of Andean society. The most prominent designs in Andean weaving, for example, involve binary symmetry, very frequently around a marked center line or center unit. Often multiple micro-patterns with center line symmetry are incorporated into the larger symmetrical structure (see Bastien 1978:107-09). It has been observed that the process of weaving also involves conceptualizing the design from the center outward to two symmetrical halves thus mirroring the voicing arrangements of the musical ensembles (Franquemont 1987; Franquemont, Isbell, and Franquemont n.d.).
Cases of community organization involving ternary divisions—two periphery units located geographically and/or in terms of altitude around the centrally located major settlement—have been documented from the pre-Columbian period through the present (see Murra 1975:65, 77; Bastien 1978). An interpretation of this mode of community organization comes from Bastien's (1978:46-47) postulation of a basic and ancient Andean "mountain/human body" metaphor, in which the vital organs in the center (of the body = the mountain) generate life and energy outward to the head and feet. As described above, a principle of mediation is evident in the joint
ritual occasions held on centrally located ground by the communities of Huata and Putina. In this case the two communities establish an equality (of benefits received) within the ritual by holding it in a central, neutral location. In a similar manner the suli and sanja voice groups are ideally balanced in volume around the preeminent malta group in sikuris ensembles.
These examples simply suggest that a basic pattern—the organization of binary periphery units around, or out from, a marked center—is one typical way in which Andeans conceive of their world just as people in Western society tend to think in linear fashion, often from left to right, or, for example in terms of harmony, from bottom to top.
Upon occasion, a similar pattern of binary organization around a marked center is manifested in six-hole pinkillu performance. Most often, however, both types of pinkillus are played in what I will call "dense unison." Dense unison refers to the preferred manner of performance in which some players within an ensemble will blow slightly sharp or flat of the mean pitch series thereby producing a rich abundance of overtones and combination tones. Major or minor six- or seven-tone scales are the mainstay for panpipe, pinkillu, and pitu music. The tarka genres alone exhibit a frequent use of various pentatonic scales with a six-tone scale being a frequent alternative.
AESTHETIC VALUES, SOCIAL VALUES, AND ICONICITY
As noted above, musical performance in Conima is a large group activity that takes place only in public-community settings. Indeed, the music cannot be properly rendered solo as the sikuri tradition clearly shows since to perform the instrument correctly, a pair of musicians is required. Each member of a pair has only a single row of the double-row panpipe (the ira or arca rows with alternating pitches of the scale) and performs in hocket, or interlocking, fashion with his partner. Within ensembles, musicians who often constitute pairs of long standing are situated next to each other and, listening most closely to one another, play as binary units. This manner of performance is clearly related to patterns of Andean reciprocity and community cooperation (see Grebe 1980).
According to Conimeños' own statements, a major aesthetic criterion for good ensemble performance is the ideal of "playing as one" or "sounding like one instrument." No individual's instrument should ever stand out (or "escape") from the integrated fabric of the ensemble's sound. Related to the stated value of "playing as one" is a demonstrated preference for a
6The ira (the one that leads) panpipe row has six or seven tubes, and the arca (the one that follows) has seven or eight tubes, and the latter includes the lowest and highest pitches on the instrument. The siku is tuned in what approximates a diatonic pitch series, each row containing a sequence of thirds.
dense sound quality. This is expressed verbally by Conimeños when they say that there should be “no holes” (gaps, periods of silence) in an ensemble’s music. Dense sound thus refers to a consistent overlapping and blending of discrete sounds to produce a thick, unified texture (Schafer 1977:159). The dense sound quality favored by Andeans also involves a “fuzzy” aura around musical pitches in contrast to a “clear” or “sharp” sound.
These key aesthetic values direct musical production in fundamental ways. Flutes are blown with a loose embouchure to produce a breathy quality that aids ensemble blending. Panpipes should be played with a relatively gentle attack so that the whole tube of air resonates producing an even sound that aids in group blend and contrasts with the harsh-staccato sound produced when sikus are overblown. Each panpipe player briefly fuses his pitch with the beginning of his partner’s, thus allowing no “holes” in the melody. Flutes (panpipes excluded) are consistently overblown to create abundant overtones that add to the density of sound as does the practice of tuning and playing in “dense unison.” Panpipes are constructed with a second, resonating row of tubes (an octave higher) to add overtones, combination tones, and density. Tarkas are specially constructed so that forceful blowing splits the octave, again producing abundant overtones and a fat sound quality.
While the melodies are basically performed in dense unison or parallel harmony, and there is no place for the soloist per se, there are certain ornamental and improvisatory techniques available for individual expression within ensemble performance. These, too, however, are guided by the principles of “playing as one” and the predilection for a dense sound. In one such technique for siku performance known as requinteando, expert malta players who perform the ira row improvise harmonic accompaniment to the arca part, and vice versa. Skillful improvisation will be woven into the ensemble’s sound to “add flavor” but so that it does not stand out. Rather, when successful, such improvisatory techniques merely add another textural layer to the dense overlapping of sound. The hallmark descending ornamental glissandos played at cadences and during long held pitches on the taykas in pitu performance are also available for individual expression, and function to create overlap. The total absence of highlighted soloists is related to the aesthetic value of “playing as one” as well as to the basic pragmatic fact that Conimeños do not like to stand out as individuals in public social settings. This feature, like the striking aspect that music is only played in large ensembles, is obviously based in the specific communal ethos of Aymara society that defines the individual’s “natural” position as subordinate to the collective.
It is clear that the basic aesthetic values of “playing as one” and the favoring of a dense sound quality govern many aspects of instrument construction, performance technique, ensemble organization, and performance
practice. These aesthetic dispositions belong to a homologous set of generalized—internalized—dispositions that generate "natural" pragmatic solutions for ordering musical and social phenomena which are thus iconically related. ("Sounding as one" in the musical realm is like acting together, or being as one, in other fields of practice.) Every musical performance, then, is a concrete and multileveled articulation of these internalized dispositions through which they are reproduced as part of the objective conditions of experience, once again internalized, and thus fortified as a self-portrait of the group.
Another general feature of indigenous Andean musical aesthetics evidenced in Conima is the use of a small scale of contrasts (by Western standards) to make meaningful "phonemic" differences, and conversely, the avoidance of large, or obvious contrasts. Variations, style markers, or musical characteristics that may appear minute to the outside listener are perceived by Conimeños to be major markers distinguishing one ensemble's style from another, one song from another, or one section of a song from another. The fact that indigenous Andean musicians do not mix different types of melodic instruments (and thus timbres) in an ensemble may stem from this principle. Because of the smaller scale of contrasts recognized, for example, the style of one ayllu ensemble may be considered extremely different from that of others largely because it consistently plays at a distinct tempo (sometimes only differing by about ten metronome markings).
Related to the preceding idea is the indigenous Andean preference for many repetitions of the same piece and of the same musical motives within a piece as structural principles in composition. Pieces that may take a minute and a half to play will often be repeated twenty times in a single performance. Within a single composition, the same motives are repeated throughout the different sections, and major sections are often distinguished merely by the addition of a single new motive, or a new juxtaposition of previously used motives.7
The aesthetic appreciation of small contrasts set against the background of extended repetition has parallels in other aspects of Andean culture. In the culinary style, for example, dishes that are alike in all but one ingredient, spice, or detail of preparation (and to my palate taste the same) are considered completely distinct and are given different names. In food preparation,
7In a broader context, Andeans' favoring of a high degree of repetition, a smaller scale of contrasts, and more subtle variations than those emphasized in urban-Western music seem to be common features in other traditional rural societies. Similar aesthetic principles, for example, are common in many African musical cultures. Indeed, the stressing of and the aesthetic craving for dramatic musical contrasts may be most pronounced in urban-Western society where the level of sensual input and the speed of cultural change has followed a pattern of continual acceleration, and where change (= progress) itself is highly valued.
as with the sense of time in daily life, and in musical performance, small variations placed against the backdrop of cyclical repetition is a basic way in which Andean peasants experience the world.
**The Social Organization of Community Musical Ensembles**
Within each community, certain individuals are recognized as *maestros* for their musical abilities on the given instruments, and the *guias* (lit. guides: ensemble leaders) for each type of instrumental ensemble are likewise known. During actual performance, *sikuri* ensembles have two *guias*—one plays *ira* and the other *arca*—who form a binary unit. One of these, however, serves as the major leader of the ensemble in the roles to be described below. The other types of wind ensembles have a single *guia*. Most of the *maestros* of a community perform all the different instruments called for by the various fiesta occasions. A different person fulfills the *guia* role for the different wind instruments according to individual interest and expertise.
As a given fiesta approaches, the sponsor for that year’s fiesta (an obligation that is taken in turn by adult male community members) will visit the home of the *guia* for the particular instrument traditionally required for that event. After much conversation the sponsor comes to the point of his visit and formally requests the *guia*’s help in performing music for the upcoming fiesta. Usually the *guia* delights in the task; nonetheless, the request takes the form of a favor asked since his collaboration is essential for a successful fiesta. Indeed, regardless of his own enthusiasm for performing, if he were not to receive a formal invitation, a musician of his stature would be prevented by pride from playing at all. Out of respect, the fiesta sponsor will then usually ask the *guia* which musicians within the community should receive special invitations to take part, thus insuring an adequate core ensemble. Once the names of the *maestros* are given, the sponsor or the *guia* visits each person with offerings of coca and a formal invitation to perform. The *guia* and *maestros* also receive a special invitation to the pre-fiesta rehearsal at the sponsor’s home.
The sponsor has the role of general organizer and host, and the core group of musicians have the status of honored performers and guests. Throughout the fiesta, the musicians are granted a high status by the entire community since it is they who make the fiesta come alive and, in a major sense, make it happen through musical performance. The musical ensemble is the focal center around which the community unites. Therefore, not only the sponsor, but community members and dancers in general continually offer coca and drinks to the musicians to keep them content and playing.
The ensemble is anchored around the figure of the *guia*. In the community ensembles, this is not a formally elected position, rather, the *guia* is a person who is implicitly recognized as the “musical guide” by the other
musicians by several criteria. First, the *guia* must have a command over all the instruments (wind and percussion) used within a given ensemble, and his instrumental ability must be superior. A vast knowledge of the repertory and the ability to remember and cue the pieces is also essential. For the instruments that are constructed in Conima (i.e., the *siku* and the *pitu*) the *guia* is usually the person who makes them, but in any event, he must have knowledge of the proper tuning and voicing of the ensemble.
The *guia* has some control over the personnel and musical sound of the ensemble. He checks the tuning of the instruments and arranges the voicing for new *tropas* (consort of instruments) purchased by the fiesta sponsor, and he recommends the other *maestros* who are invited to perform by the sponsor. For the most part, the *guia* is also responsible for cueing the tunes during fiesta performances and for setting the tempos. Since these individuals are usually the most skilled at composition, they also have a major input in shaping the ensemble repertory.
The *guia* must also have the desire, energy, and patience necessary to organize the numerous individuals for the large ensembles. Since a successful fiesta performance requires the participation of a sufficient number of *maestros*, the *guia* is often called upon to court the favor of these musicians within the community. Although the fiesta sponsor offers formal invitations to the *maestros* and participation is heightened if he is known for his generosity and for "setting a good table," it is often the *guia* who insures their participation through his respected position and the personal relationships that he maintains with the musicians.
Some of the *maestros* exhibited a prideful, independent side of their characters in regard to fiesta performance. For example, some of the older musicians in Putina—who were aware that their services were valued—often required a great deal of coaxing before they agreed to perform. A few, because of age, may truly have been tired of fiesta performance, but I would guess that most probably wanted to play and were merely asserting themselves within the situation. I continually witnessed cases where the *guia* would have to make repeated trips to the houses of such individuals before their participation was assured.
This type of behavior on the part of some musicians is worth underlining. Although I have stressed the value of community solidarity within Conimeño society and the need for consensus and collaboration, I do not wish to present an idyllic or unidimensional view. Group organization and the reaching of consensus often demand a great deal of effort and patience and all too frequently plans and projects are scrapped for lack of cooperation.
The role of *guia*, then, requires tact and patience. The person must deserve respect because of his ability, but he himself can not publicly stress or emphasize his abilities. He must know how to guide but be able to do
so in a gentle, noncritical, and nonconfrontational manner so that his leadership is not overly apparent; he must never flaunt or even explicitly exercise his authority. The moral authority granted the guia is dependent upon an implicit consensus among the musicians rather than on any basis of actual independent power. If the guia oversteps the bounds of proper behavior too often, he will gradually begin to be ignored, thereby forfeiting the role.
The core group of musicians recognized as maestros within a community must have many of the same qualities as the guia. They must perform well on the instruments, have some compositional ability, and know the repertory. Lastly, they must be dedicated to the ensemble and to the music, and this requires that they show up regularly for fiesta performances. This core group of musicians attends the opening rehearsal where new songs for the fiesta will be created and where new instruments, supplied by the fiesta sponsor, will be handed out. It is this group that comprises the foundation of the community ensemble.
Because of the ideal of communal performance in Conima, however, any male community member is welcome to play at the rehearsal and with the group during the fiesta. In addition to joining the ensemble for the pleasure of performing, many men, who are not necessarily adept or dedicated musically, may participate as musicians during fiestas to enjoy the benefits of the free alcohol, food, and coca served to the ensemble throughout the event. Although different musical abilities are recognized privately, there is no overt differentiation of status between the maestros and other men once they have joined the ensemble. This flexible, ad hoc nature of the ensembles during fiesta performance has a major impact on shaping the musical sound.
First, since few, if any ad hoc (i.e., non-maestro) members attend the rehearsals, they are not immediately familiar with the new pieces traditionally composed during these sessions. This puts constraints on composition itself as will be made clear below. Secondly, the ad hoc members do not receive new instruments provided by the fiesta sponsor. Rather, they come with instruments already in their possession that may not be in tune, or may not be the voice needed for balancing the group’s sound. Therefore, the inclusion of ad hoc members, who can equal or outnumber the maestros in certain fiestas such as Carnavales, obviously affects the guia’s control over the tuning and the voicing of the different harmonic parts in the ensemble.
Although any community member is welcome at the rehearsals, few individuals attend who are not invited as maestros. The reason for this is not totally clear since many ad hoc members do perform during the fiestas. I can only guess that the rehearsals are partially regarded as work, because pieces must be composed, and hence rehearsals do not attract people who are not particularly dedicated to the music.
Finally, there is no quality control over the level of musical knowledge or performance ability within the group since any male community member is welcome to play. Because of the indirect, nonconfrontational mode of social interaction within groups in Conimeñó society, the *guia* and other musicians do not directly correct or criticize individual players or even draw attention to them. During the period of my research, even when particularly inept *ad hoc* members were playing in a manner contrary to the aesthetic ideals (e.g., frequently overblowing the *siku*), or when individuals performed instruments whose tuning actually clashed with the sound of the ensemble, I never witnessed any public recognition of the problem, or an attempt to alter it. In one such case, two *pitu* musicians arrived to play with their *ankuta* flutes tuned a fourth above the *taykas* while the ensemble was using three *ankutas* tuned a fifth above. The resulting parallel second line dramatically ran counter to the way *pitu* ensembles should sound (as a number of musicians commented privately at a later time). Nonetheless, while everyone knew that there was a severe tuning problem, no one said anything or even appeared to take notice, and these individuals performed with the group throughout the fiesta.
As noted earlier, Conimeñó manifest a pattern of conflict avoidance in regard to problems within the community when possible. So too, they simply ignore bad playing or tuning problems within the ensemble. To do otherwise would lead to hard feelings among community members. The frequent result, however, is an audible difference between situations in which primarily *maestros* are performing (such as in rehearsals), and those in which many *ad hoc* community members are playing.
In the preceding description of Conima's instrumental traditions and aesthetic system, I continually prefaced statements with the word "ideally." The reason for doing so is that, while Conimeñó verbalize very specific aesthetic conceptions regarding the way music should sound in a prescriptive sense,9 these principles are often not realized in actual fiesta performance because of the *ad hoc*, communal nature of the ensembles.
Within limits, it seems to matter less if ensembles "sound like one instrument" or perform in tune with the proper voicing than it does that
---
9Discussions about musical performance can be of a prescriptive, descriptive, or evaluative nature. In Conima, prescriptive aesthetic values are generally shared and are stated publicly since they are made in the abstract or prior to an actual performance, and their statement offers no threat or criticism to any individuals actually playing. Evaluative statements, after an actual performance, are made publicly within a group about other ensembles. Evaluative judgements, other than general, positive ones, are not made publicly within a group about its own performance, however, since this might imply criticism of specific players, and this is to be avoided according to the social code in Conima. Prescriptive aesthetic statements, i.e., how something *should* sound, then, are part of the shared, and thus unifying, aspects of a group's musical culture, whereas evaluative judgements can be potentially disruptive.
they perform long and loud with great spirit, providing a sonic event that inspires people to dance and enjoy themselves. All this is not to say that the aesthetic ideals and the musical sound itself are not important to Conimeños. In fact, some musicians may complain after a bad performance and even affix blame, but only in private among family members or trusted friends. A range of responses and attitudes is present, but pragmatic social values guiding the normal or "natural" way people ought to behave have a fundamental impact on ensemble organization and, finally, on the sound that is produced.
COMPETITION AND ENSEMBLE STYLE
During larger fiestas in which a number of groups perform in the town plaza of Conima, the community ensembles compete with each other for greater numbers of dancers and spectators, and for the prestige of being recognized as the best ensemble in the fiesta. Each ensemble, accompanied by members of their community, forms a separate circle in the plaza to perform music and dance, and there is little social interaction among the different community units. After these fiestas a great deal of discussion within the district is dedicated to determining which ensemble was the best. The informal nature of this competition, which does not involve formal judging, trophies, and the like, allows a number of communities to believe, or at least publicly to maintain, that their ensembles actually "won." Hence, community pride may be bolstered among various groups simultaneously. Meanwhile, a general consensus will be found among town and ayllu dwellers, who were not represented by ensembles, regarding the best performance, and everyone becomes aware of this decision.
There are several criteria for judging the groups. A major criterion is the length of time spent performing in the plaza and thereby providing entertainment for the fiesta. It is a matter of honor to be the last group to leave the plaza in the evening. In addition to providing entertainment, this endurance is a show of stamina, since playing these wind instruments for long periods of time, with the large quantities of alcohol consumed, is no slight task. The volume of the groups is also an important means of attracting the attention of the crowd and thus for winning the day. The volume depends both on the number of players and on their vigor.
The ensembles are also evaluated according to the aesthetic parameters for each of the instrumental traditions mentioned above. In the case of sikuri ensembles, for example, groups will be favored that have fuller harmonic voicing and a better tuned and balanced sound than that of others. This situation, however, does not alter the priority given to equal access to community participation within the ensembles; rather, the groups simply must perform as close to the aesthetic ideals as possible given this constraint.
The hindrance in fully reaching the aesthetic ideals sometimes created by the *ad hoc* nature of the groups, however, is balanced by greater community participation, since large, louder ensembles draw more crowd attention and participation.
The originality and distinctiveness of performance style and, even more important, of repertory, are particularly important criteria for judging the ensembles. Groups that enter the plaza without a newly composed emblem piece for each fiesta, or who are perceived as copying the style or repertory of another ensemble are criticized and even ridiculed as being unoriginal and unskillful. As Albo has noted for the Aymara, tensions between the individual and the group are reduced by stressing the individuality of the group itself. The primary public means for doing this in Conima is through musical performance in the larger fiestas, and ensembles have the role of public representative and champion for their respective community units. Musical originality and competence, then, become demonstrations of social competence and the uniqueness of community identity. For this reason, ensemble style markers are jealously guarded, and imitation is disparaged. This is a significant example of how competition between social units of basically equal power provides the impetus for constant musical dynamism and creativity as well as for the maintenance of discrete style boundaries and the preclusion of borrowing—at least at the ideal level.
As noted earlier, musical markers distinguishing ensemble performance styles are subtle and include such features as slightly different tempos. Different types and degrees of ornamentation also mark ensemble style as does the use of one type of *pitu* harmony or the other, or different instrument sizes (and pitch levels). When possible, *sikuri* groups, for example, change the size and pitch of their instruments (usually within a semitone) from one fiesta to the next, and careful deliberations take place to decide which size should be used for the best advantage. Even changes of voicing are perceived as a potential way to add variety to a group's performance. These aspects, and other types of innovations marking the creativity and unique identity of the group are favored since they are considered to provide a competitive edge.
**Composition, Rehearsals, and Learning Music**
Group originality is stressed most, however, in regard to repertory. Before local fiestas, each ensemble comes together to compose new pieces for the event during the pre-fiesta rehearsal. Within the strict boundaries of the genres that are called for by a given fiesta occasion, each group attempts to come up with two or three new pieces that will catch and hold the attention of the public and thus aid them in the musical competition. Furthermore, since creativity itself is valued in Conimeño musical culture,
composition is a major way for groups to enhance their own prestige publicly.
Usually one of the newly composed tunes emerges as the favorite of the group, and it becomes the emblem piece of the ensemble for that year's fiesta. The emblem piece is played when the group first enters the plaza and circles it before settling into their performance locale. That song is played more frequently than any other throughout the fiesta so that by the second day, the tune has become the associated identity marker for the group. When the piece is heard approaching from a distance, the people waiting in the plaza know who is coming. In addition to this, the emblem piece becomes an index for the fiesta of the particular year in which it was composed. Years later when the piece is played, people will more often refer to it by its year of composition than by name.
By composing new pieces every year, each ensemble builds up its own repertoire, demonstrates its creative ability, and marks its unique identity. There are many old, standard pieces for the different instruments in the Conima repertory that no one can prove belong specifically to a given community (although often people will claim them). These are available for performance by anyone and no criticism will result. If an ensemble plays a more recently composed piece that is generally identified with another ensemble, however, the group opens itself up to ridicule. The most frequent criticism in such cases is that the maestros of the group lack ability and hence must fall back on imitation.
New compositions are created in the formal rehearsals preceding a given fiesta. As the maestros wait for everyone to arrive at the rehearsal in the late afternoon one or two days before the fiesta, they socialize and enjoy the coca and alcohol offered by the fiesta sponsor who acts as host. A religious ritual known as t'inka is performed with coca and alcohol for the important forces (or deities) of the local Aymara religion. The musicians then begin to warm up simply by playing through pieces of their repertory from past years, and a festive supper follows. After the rehearsal supper, the guía again takes up his instrument suggesting that it is time for the central activity of the rehearsal: the creation of this year's new pieces, and he asks for ideas from the musicians present.
During the composition sessions, the musicians sit roughly in a circle. When the guía indicates that it is time to begin composing, the musicians who are able, begin to offer musical ideas: usually one or two complete phrases which can serve as the A section for a piece (the vast majority of Conimeño music is in AA BB CC form). Sitting quietly in place, when a musician has an idea, he will try it out, softly repeating it to himself on his instrument. At times five or more people may be playing their own phrases or motives simultaneously. There may also be periods of silence to which
the guía and other musicians respond with verbal encouragement to those present.
This initial brainstorming phase is often rather lengthy. Material being offered that is not found interesting will simply be ignored as others continue working out their own musical ideas. After a period of time if a musician gets no reaction to the phrase or motive he is playing, he will drop it and try something else, or simply revert to silence. When a certain person's idea is found appealing, however, others will gradually take notice, stop what they are doing, and join in softly on their instruments with the originator until everyone has taken it up. Once the initial section has been played repeatedly, and learned by all, the musicians again begin brainstorming the subsequent B and C sections that are required for a complete piece. This occurs in the same manner as that described above with the major exception that motives from the initial A section are used as a fundamental starting point for—and in prescribed ways in—the subsequent sections.
When all three sections are completed by this process, the group will play through the entire composition. Then, entering a new phase, the musicians will begin to alter or correct the parts in the same manner in which they composed them and gradually took them up. The correction phase continues until no one can offer further acceptable changes and the piece is considered “perfect.” Sometimes after the ensemble members run out of ideas for improvement and the piece is as yet deemed unacceptable, the entire composition will be abandoned, and the musicians begin the composition process again from scratch. In other, happier cases, the original material produced may not need much correction, and a consensus is rapidly reached regarding its acceptability. Note, however, that at each phase an implicit, often nonverbal, consensus is demanded. So, too, in keeping with the typical manner of Aymara social interaction in Conima, a person's ideas are not verbally or directly rejected, rather they are passively ignored. Finally, it should be stressed that once offered, musical material is considered to belong to the group rather than to the individual who offered it, and anyone is welcome to suggest changes without fear of offending the originator.
In this type of communal composition process, the entire ensemble is considered to be the composer, and individuals' input into the creation is not publicly recognized. In actuality, however, certain musicians take more initiative, and others largely follow their lead. So, too, in the matter of consensus—which is signalled by each taking up the musical idea or alteration in turn—the maestros join in playing, once a substantial group has done so, and this is often initiated by the most respected musician-composers of the group. I never witnessed a case where a few individuals opposed the majority.
In another common type of compositional process, entire pieces are created by individuals before coming to the rehearsal. In this case, during the initial musical brainstorming sessions the composer will begin to play his completed piece softly to himself. If it is interesting to the other musicians they will take it up and begin playing it with him, if not, it will be ignored. Once the melody is taken up, it is subjected to the same group alteration/correction process for a final acceptance or rejection. Note that in this phase, the composition is considered communal material available for shaping. Anyone may offer alterations of any scope, and the composer has no special rights over decisions affecting the piece.
If the original composition is finally accepted in a highly altered form, the group is considered to be the composer. If the composition remains largely intact, the group will proclaim the individual as composer. In either event, when in public, the composer usually states that it is the creation of the group, although in private he may claim the composition as his own.
Overall, it should be clear that the compositional process in Conima is consistent with generalized modes of social behavior. First, the group is stressed over any given individuals. It closely resembles Aymara processes of decision making in that it depends ultimately on consensus during each phase. So, too, it is nondirect, and nonconfrontational in nature. Also, it is largely nonverbal, and this is an extension of the pattern of conflict avoidance.
**Musical Sources for Composition**
The sources for ideas on which new compositions can be based are many. The most valued are those that are original to someone in the group ("he takes them out of his head"). Not everyone can compose original material, and those who have this ability are highly respected. Several individuals mentioned that ideas for new compositions come to them while they are sleeping, as well as in dreams. Other people make up tunes through experimentation on their instruments at home. As primary sources for new creations, however, phrases and motives from preexisting compositions, or practically entire pieces are used.
Preexisting material from any genre or instrumental tradition can serve as the basis for new compositions. People use material that they have heard on radio or cassettes in addition to pieces performed by other local ensembles. Often material will be shared among the different instrumental traditions within the same community. This type of musical borrowing from outside the community is not considered imitation, and Conimeños see no contradiction between this practice and the value placed on group originality. It must be stressed that Conimeños consider a piece to be new and original.
even if it is the result of only slight alterations of a preexisting composition. This may be due to the smaller scale of contrasts used to make meaningful differences within the musical culture. Although the direct source for the borrowed material is acknowledged, other relationships, akin to the concept of "tune families," are not drawn between larger groups of compositions that are related through this type of borrowing.
**Musical Form, Repetition, and Formulae**
In terms of acceptable musical material and its organization within the compositional process, there are basically two social parameters which are determined, on the one hand, by the nonspecialist and the communal, *ad hoc* nature of *ayllu* ensembles, and on the other, by the competitive nature of the musical culture.
Each instrumental tradition in Conima has two or more distinct genres that are specific to it and that are associated with specific contexts or uses. For the most part, the different musical genres are narrowly defined structures distinguished by one or more features such as certain scale formations, melodic shapes and phrase lengths, and types of rhythmic movement and tempos. With the exception of several pieces encountered, all Conimeño genres use a standard AA BB CC form. As noted in the discussion regarding Conimeño aesthetics, there is a high degree of motivic repetition among the three sections.
The motives leading up to and at section cadences are repeated in all three sections almost systematically in all genres. The B and C sections are usually heavily based on A-section motives and may be distinguished only by the addition of one or two short new motives, or a new juxtaposition of A-section motives. For example (ch. = a motive referred to as *chuta chuta*, see Example 2):
**Sikuri** Pieces:
A = a, b, c, b', a', d, ch.
B = a', b', a', d, ch.
C = a, b', a', d, ch.
A = a, b, c, ch.
B = d, c', ch.
C = e, c', ch.
**Five-hole Pinkillu** Pieces:
A = a, b, c, d
B = c, e, c, d
C = f, b', c, d
A = a, b, c
B = d, b, c
C = e, c
In addition to being characterized by motivic repetition, most genres are distinguished by specific formulae which are usually found leading up to and at cadence points as well as leading into the C section.
The strictly defined structures and formulae for a given genre are the "building blocks" (Nettl 1974) within the group compositional process. In the tarka piece shown in Example 1, for example, motives c and d are stock formulae for the tarkiada genre. Note, then that between the repetition of motives b and c throughout the three sections, and the use of stock formulae (motives c and d), a minimum of new material is required for the creation of a piece.
Example 1
Tarka Piece
The sikuri piece shown in Example 2 is a composition that was based on the tarka piece in Example 1 (borrowed from within the same community). In the sikuri version, motive a is the extent of the borrowed material. Motive c and the chuta chuta figure are stock formulae for this sikuri (ligero) genre. Because of the set melodic shape and longer phrase length of ligero pieces, which demand that the melody descend to the lower final before the chuta chuta formula, motive b is little more than a transitional descending motive that is formulaic in function and melodic direction if not in the exact rhythmic motives and pitches used. Hence, the entire A section consists of strictly borrowed and formulaic material.
It would have been totally acceptable for the composer to construct the B section with material almost entirely generated from A as was done in the original tarka piece and as is often the case. Here, however, two new
motives, \( d \) and \( e \) are provided in B for an unusual twist. The \( f \) motive leading into section C is a formula of the ligero genre which precedes the repetition of motive \( c \) and the chuta chuta figure. Once again, a minimum of new material is needed for the creation of what is considered an entirely new composition. Because of this repetitive-formulaic nature of music in Conima, it is possible to create three new pieces collectively within five to six hours at rehearsals. These characteristics are also made necessary by the way music is learned.
In Conima, few people rehearse or practice music by themselves. Rather, new pieces and, indeed, instrumental ability are learned by watching and doing during actual fiesta performances. The formulae and the motives repeated at the cadences of each section within a piece serve as handles by which newcomers to a tune can take hold of it. In learning a tune during performance, people pick up the cadence motives and formulae first and join in on these since they are already known or are repeated constantly. With each repetition of the tune, they begin to learn and add the new material presented by the piece until they can play the entire melody.
This method of learning music, and the fact that the ad hoc ensemble members do not rehearse new compositions before performances puts constraints on composition itself. If composers stray too far from the tight
The Coherence of Social Style and Musical Creation
repetitive genre structures and formulae, ad hoc members will not be able to pick up the tune fast enough during performances. For Carnavales 1986, for example, a particularly hard (i.e., “different”) composition was created by the ayllu ensemble with which I performed. The guia chose this tune for the first entrance into the plaza on the fiesta’s opening day. (This initial entrance is a particularly important moment for making an impression on the public, and thus, for gaining prestige.) For the entrance, ad hoc players who had not attended the rehearsal the night before were about equal in number to the maestros. As we warmed up with the piece before entering the plaza, it became painfully apparent that the ad hoc players could not master it quickly enough for the entrance. We then successfully changed to another newly composed piece that more closely fit the tarkiada structure. The former piece was not attempted again during the fiesta and was thus effectively excluded from the repertory of the ensemble.
The fact that the guia initially chose this particularly distinctive piece for the first entrance of the group, however, brings us to the other parameter of composition. That is, in order to compete effectively with other groups, an ensemble must have distinctive and ear catching music. Within the tight formulaic structures, new turns of creativity and originality must shine through. For example, Conimeños considered the sikuri piece discussed above to be particularly fresh and creative because of the addition of a substantial amount of new material in the B section. Indeed, the composer of this piece, Feliberto Calderon V., is highly esteemed in Ayllu Sulcata for his ability to spin out new melodic material, as well as for the quality of the material itself. Of course, the specific musical ideas or turns of phrase that generate enthusiasm and aesthetic enjoyment—the heart of musical creation—are difficult to summarize or describe in general terms.
Because of the communal, ad hoc ensemble structure, as well as the competitive nature of Conimeño musical culture, pieces must be crafted which successfully blend and balance stock material with new ideas that provide power and excitement. While musical creation universally involves the fusion of traditional resources with new innovative ideas, and the latter constantly expand the parameters of those resources, the emphasis on stock forms and formulae in Conima is largely the result of the social modus operandi underlying the organization of musical ensembles and processes such as composition and learning music.
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS
The purpose of the present paper, grounded in an ethnographic approach, has been to show how the pragmatics of social style and Aymara worldview inform musical organization, creation, performance, and finally musical sound. The same basic concerns for equal opportunity that direct
ensemble organization and the outcome of performance also govern the ways motives are repeated and formulae are used within the act of composition. The interaction between "social style" and musical style at the sonic level has thus been established at all points of the musical process that begins with the creation of a piece and ends with its execution in actual performance.
At the pragmatic level, the Aymara in Conima avoid being singled out in public social interactions whether it be a decision making assembly or a musical performance. Equal access to social roles among males is granted priority over individual competence for holding political and religious offices as well as for taking part in musical performance. The homologous relationship between decision making processes and communal-musical composition has also been stressed. The all too common ethnomusicological questions regarding if and how musical culture relates to social context seem clearly answerable in the simple observation that musical behavior is social behavior (see Seeger 1980:39).
Another aspect discussed has been how factionalism and competition between community identity units are an impetus for constant musical creation and dynamism, as well as for the jealous guarding of musical repertory and style markers that distinguish the ensembles. The nonspecialist nature and communal ideal of Conimeño performance fosters the use of motivic repetition and formulae in composition while the competitive nature of the musical culture instigates originality and new turns of creativity. The goal of "playing as one" determines that panpipes should not be overblown. At the same time, the volume required in competitive situations defines the other parameter of performance technique: the siku should be blown as loud as possible without overblowing.
At the level of stated aesthetic values, "playing as one" and maintaining a dense, well-integrated sound are clear manifestations of the value stressing group integration and solidarity. These aesthetic dispositions direct many
---
10The issue of sex roles and access to musical resources in Conima is a complex one that I am unable to deal with adequately. In social occasions the male and female spheres remain separate (e.g., men and women sit apart in social gatherings) with the exception of dancing. Many other economic and social roles are defined according to sex. For example, the main political and religious offices in the ayllus are held by men, and only men play musical instruments. Men usually take the lead in most public occasions, such as speaking at decision making assemblies, while the women's views are taken into account and are articulated often through their men. Women, on the other hand, seem to run the households. Although an inequality seems to be indicated, men in Conima suggest that the relationship between the sexes is of a "separate but equal" character, and that women do not want to play musical instruments: it would not be "normal." Unfortunately, I did not get the women's perspective on this, but I would guess that most would say very much the same thing because of the importance of social custom and consensus in Conima.
aspects of instrument construction, performance practice, and technique so that, ideally, the sonic result of musical performance becomes an iconic reproduction of the unified nature of the community. In actual performances, however, the aesthetic ideals are sometimes not realized because of the priorities placed on nonconfrontational, egalitarian modes of social interaction that are rooted in the redundant concern for solidarity. The same message emerges from the musical results of the aesthetic ideals just as it is evident in the very constraints of pragmatic social behavior and thereby negates any contradiction between them.
Both the aesthetic dispositions and pragmatic priorities that define Conimeño musical culture are part of a generalized set of internalized dispositions that, when externalized in behavior and form, create a coherence across different fields of practice and within the realm of musical activity itself. The externalization of these dispositions in practice is part of the ongoing process of reproducing sociocultural conditions that are again internalized and, in turn, form a coherent vision of the “natural” order of the world. Music, then, is not just socially structured; the social order is, in part, musically structured since musical activity comprises one important public domain in which a worldview is made patent in a multileveled and powerful form (Feld 1984:385).
When Conimeños reply to questions about why they do things a certain way by replying simply, “That is the way we do it,” or “That is the way it is,” they are articulating the coherence of their internalized dispositions that define their sense of reality and that integrate their view of themselves and their society. They need no theoretical elaborations because their view of things is not perceived as arbitrary and, thus, the “natural” order goes without saying (see Bourdieu 1977:168). The reproduction and the sharing of a worldview bind the individual to the community and create a sense of social identity. That music so frequently emerges as a central identity emblem for social units is due both to such grounding and the resultant iconicity between musical sound and the basic character and central views of the group. In such cases musical performance is not merely a statement about identity and worldview, rather it is the very essence of such statements made potent through concise and redundant semiotic means and highlighted social activity.
REFERENCES
Alberti, Giorgio, and Enrique Mayer, eds.
Albo, Javier
Bastien, Joseph W.
Baumann, Max Peter
Becker, Judith, and Alton Becker
Bourdieu, Pierre
Briggs, Lucy T., and Domingo Llanque C.
Carter, William E.
Feld, Steven
Franquemont, E. M.
Franquemont, E. M., B. J. Isbell, and C. R. Franquemont
Grebe, Maria Ester
Murra, John V.
Nettl, Bruno
Schafer, R. Murray
Seeger, Anthony
Turino, Thomas |
INFLUENCE OF ARCHITECTURAL SOLUTIONS ON BUILDING HEAT PROTECTION WITH EXAMPLE OF HISTORICAL RURAL HOUSES IN NORTHERN CASSUBIA
Miroslawa GÓRECKA a, Marek CHALECKI b*
a PhD; Senior Lecturer, Faculty of Civil and Environmental Engineering, Warsaw University of Life Sciences (SGGW), Nowoursynowska 159, 02-776 Warsaw, Poland
b PhD; Assistant Professor, Faculty of Civil and Environmental Engineering, Warsaw University of Life Sciences (SGGW), Nowoursynowska 159, 02-776 Warsaw, Poland
E-mail address: marekchalecki@wp.pl
Received: 16.11.2017; Revised: 21.11.2017; Accepted: 11.06.2018
Abstract
This paper is dedicated to the shaping of traditional historical rural houses in the context of building heat protection. Special attention was paid to certain architectural elements of the building, such as its shape, layout of the rooms and functional connections between them, application of material and constructive solutions, and the location of the house on the plot, including the plan of its surroundings. The research concerning the existing historical buildings was carried out in randomly selected villages in coastal, northern Cassubia. This area is characterized by certain definite common features. The basic selective criteria of the researched area were its specific climate conditions, uniquely affecting the shaping of functional and spatial elements of the traditional rural houses. The recapitulating table presents the characteristic architectural elements affecting the building heat protection in the rural houses from the 19th century. It has been stated that folk architecture, as a result of the work of numerous generations, and thus characterized by skilled adaptation to the natural environment and climate conditions, should be currently the pattern and inspiration for quests of low-energy-consuming solutions during the design of rural dwelling houses.
Keywords: Rural detached house; Building heat protection; Building architectural elements.
Streszczenie
Artykuł poświęcony jest kształtowaniu tradycyjnych historycznych domów wiejskich w kontekście ochrony cieplnej budynku. Zwrócono szczególną uwagę na elementy architektury budynku, takie jak: jego kształt, w tym forma przestrzenna dachu, układ pomieszczeń i powiązań funkcjonalnych, zastosowanie rozwiązań materiałowo-konstrukcyjnych oraz usytuowanie domu na działce wraz z rozplanowaniem jego otoczenia. Badania dotyczące istniejących historycznych budynków, przeprowadzono w wybranych w sposób swobodny wsiach na terenie północnych Kaszub nadmorskich. Obszar ten charakteryzuje określone wspólne cechy. Podstawowym kryterium wyboru terenu badań były jego specyficzne uwarunkowania klimatyczne, wpływające w szczególny sposób na kształtowanie elementów funkcjonalno-przestrzennych tradycyjnych domów wiejskich. Sporządzono zestawienie charakterystycznych wybranych elementów architektury wpływających na ochronę cieplną budynku w domach wiejskich z XIX wieku. Stwierdzono, że architektura ludowa, będąca wynikiem pracy licznych pokoleń i charakteryzująca się umiejętnym dostosowaniem do środowiska naturalnego i warunków klimatycznych, powinna stać się wzorem i inspiracją do poszukiwań rozwiązań niskoenergochłonnobędących obecnie przy projektowaniu budynków mieszkalnych na wsi.
Keywords: Rural detached house; Building heat protection; Building architectural elements.
1. INTRODUCTION
Nowadays, building heat protection depends on assumed technical requirements concerning heat and moisture as well as on the building materials used, namely on their properties affecting energy savings and environmental protection. The fulfillment of the actual requirements on building heat protection can be achieved on the design stage thanks to the application of complex techniques and methods (technical solutions limiting energy consumption) as well as on the construction stage by using modern thermoinsulating materials and execution technology, with increased financial outlays. Building heat protection translates into energy efficacy of buildings which can be evaluated by their users based on building heating costs. According to Laskowski, building heat protection is the sum of the practical application of heat physics based on algorithms and resulting in empirical quantification, on the knowledge of the properties of building materials and – in many cases – on economical reasons [1].
For human beings, optimal thermal conditions were always one of the most important factors deciding the choice of settlement. With the passage of time, this place obtained the name of something commonly understood as a house, i.e. a space which can be arranged to satisfy the most important life needs which also dictates a positive physical and mental state [2]. Among them, one can name the need for safety, including adaptation of the house to climate conditions (unfavorable weather influence). Thanks to certain defined techniques and technologies developed through the ages, houses were adapted in natural ways to be functional in accordance with the natural environment. Rational architectural and urbanistic solutions came into being mainly under the influence of climate, and houses were erected with the use of local building materials and their thermal properties [3]. Many manners of building erection, mainly in the Mediterranean region and in desert climates, used thermal mass of thick earth walls in aim to store cold and heat. An ancient object – Greek and Roman – based on “sun capturing” [4]. Studies on Greek and Roman architecture show the correctness of form and construction enabling proper insulation as well as natural ventilation of buildings [5]. A simple form of the object passively using solar energy became the basis for further quests of proper spatial solutions and for further elaboration of the scheme of the so-called “solar envelope” which is characteristic for each latitude [6]. It was Socrates who was the most contemporary acknowledged author of the solar house. His concept of the house ensured maximum use of the sun in winter (the sun heated the main room – oikos) and total protection of the building’s dwelling part against direct sun in summer. Perpendicular city plans, with a net of streets running north-south and east-west, enabled maximum exposition of every house to the sun [7]. This has been proven in archaeological excavations in Olynthus, Priene, Delos and Colophon.
An important feature of building design in cold climates is the use of air stratification in a room – the phenomenon consisting in raising warm air and lowering cool air [8]. This has been applied, for example, in igloos which give shelter to their occupants in the coldest climates. They spend the majority of time on the upper level where the warm air gathers, whereas in the lower part of the house – where the cold air falls – the house entrance is situated [9].
Some solutions, developed through the years in Middle Europe, were characterized by building heat protection. An example can be a rule of working heat distribution in a traditional Latvian house. The heat coming from the bonfire or solar energy was absorbed mainly by the accumulation mass of the centrally situated room with the kitchen and chimney. The absorbed heat was gradually emitted to other rooms in the building, heating them. An important factor was material which stored the heat – more precisely, it was the material’s density which enabled it to maintain temperature for longer periods of time [10]. The capacity of the accumulation mass (thermal inertia) of the building depended at that time on many factors – apart from the heat capacity of the applied material, also important was the location of the heat source, so-called hot core, its relation to other parts of the building, and ventilation solutions applied.
Nowadays, the binding priorities and directives for building design are the result of an ongoing quest for effective solutions, i.a. in architecture. This quest bears fruits in diversity of various functional and spatial systems which, in turn, result mainly from the adaptation of the house to local conditions. The contemporary building construction, characterized by the rational use of energy, draws inspirations i.a. from a rural hut – the basic pattern of traditional Polish folk architecture. It is worth then to use the experiences and wisdom of previous generations. The inhabitants of houses erected in the country, especially in the 2nd half of the 20th century, know how much a mindless breaking-off with tradition costs. The houses are difficult to heat due not only to
improper materials, but also uneconomical functional and spatial solutions.
2. RESEARCH METHODOLOGY
Taking into consideration the problems undertaken in the paper, two types of research were used: indirect and direct.
In the indirect research, the monographic method was used; it was based on critical analysis of literature along with propositions of the researchers’ own conclusions. Simultaneously, certain methodological assumptions were assumed a priority – their intention was to clear the research area and restrict its object range. As historical rural houses were defined, those which had been erected in Poland in the 16th century, became popular particularly in the 19th century, and still exist and preserve regional features.
In the direct research, however, two methods were applied:
- a diagnostic survey via a free interview technique directed to informants (rural house proprietors, representatives of local communities) in coastal Cassubia, the region which had been chosen by the first co-author,
- an empirical method consisting in the analysis of the selected architectural elements affecting the thermal protection of the existing houses (shape of the buildings, including the spatial form of the roofs, layout of rooms and functional connections, materials and constructive solutions applied, location of the building on the plot along with a layout of its surroundings) and using personal observations.
The predominating trends in all of Poland were confronted with investigations in coastal Cassubia. The descriptions of specific architectural solutions, connected to the appropriate illustrative material (photos and drawings made by the first co-author), were assumed necessary to depict the problems being discussed in the paper.
2.1. Research material
The investigations concerning the existing historical rural building development were carried out in randomly selected villages in northern coastal Cassubia. This region is characterized by certain defined common features (Fig. 1a). The basic criterion of the selection of the area for investigations was the specific climate conditions affecting the shaping of architectural elements of the traditional rural houses in unique ways.
The southern and middle part of Cassubia has been described in literature, cf. [11, 12]. In the investigations on the Cassubian material culture, the publication by J. Knyba [13] is the first monograph which comprehensively presents the characteristic features and development processes of the folk architecture of this region from the end of the 17th until the beginning of the 20th century. There is only few studies, however, containing information about the rural architecture of coastal Cassubia and they present too little material to show both the features and the development process of the tradition of this region.
According to the authors, the most important source of knowledge about this topic are the standing objects of the rural traditional architecture, preserved until today, and the information, obtained from the oldest inhabitants of the villages, concerning those objects of the folk architecture of this region which do not exist anymore. There are over ten preserved traditional objects from the 19th century in northern coastal Cassubia. Among them, noteworthy are historical rural houses in the open-air ethnographic museum (“skansen”) in Nadole, on the Zarnowiec Lake, as well as in Kluki, on the Leba Lake.
During the investigations concerning the architecture of the existing houses in the context of the buildings’ thermal protection, the authors have been inspired by the traditional rural architecture represented by several objects – presented in the paper – from the 19th century: modest, austere, having great architectural and artistic simplicity.
The main feature of the selected regions of coastal Cassubia is their climate – having a transitional character between the marine climate typical for Western Europe and the continental one typical for Eastern Europe [14]. According to the accepted classification, the area investigated by the authors belongs to the eastern-coastal region (RIII), covering the eastern part of the Slovincian Coast (Polish “Pobrzeże Slowińskie”, German “Slowinzische Küste”) and a part of the Cassubian Coast. The specificity of the climate conditions of this area consists i.a. of a relatively high number of cool days with precipitation. On average, there are almost 53 cool days, almost 30 cool and clouded days, and 32 cool days with precipitation. Moreover, this area is characterized by the highest annual wind speed in Poland (5-6 m/s on the height of 30 m.o.g.l.), what means that it is rated among the most profitable regions for the develop-
ment of wind power engineering in Poland. Southwest and north-west winds are predominating. It is connected with the general atmospheric circulation of the zone of moderate latitudes winds blow in all directions in this zone but with the distinct advantage of the western direction. They are rather heavy, particularly in autumn and winter. The specific conditions of coastal Cassubia enable the use of this unconventional energy source in this region through construction of wind power plants which decidedly affect the landscape shaping (Fig. 1b).
3. RESULTS OF THE INVESTIGATIONS
3.1. Shape of buildings
The houses stood out because of their dense mass, usually on a rectangular plan, which fundamentally affects more advantageous thermal conditions.
In folk architecture, a high roof was the main factor affecting the thermal protection of a building as well as its mass and the architectural expression of the house connected to this mass – and, above all, it was the roof’s area, shape, and appropriately selected proportions in comparison to the house walls. The
form of the roof was shaped, first of all, according to
climatic conditions, mainly wind influences and pre-
cipitation affecting the construction of the cover, the
shape of its spatial form, the slope angle of the roof,
the way of covering, and the area of eaves. The roof
slope angle, favoring the fast flow of water and the
slipping down of snow for a given covering material,
as well as the protruding of the eaves’ edge out of the
wall, were almost directly proportional to the precip-
itation sum in a given region. The largest eaves were
found in the northern Poland as well as in Beskids
and Podhale [15].
The protruding eaves were this element of the roof
which was characteristic for rural houses played the
role of arcades and, most importantly, protected the
walls against moisture from precipitation. They also
often played a role of an entrance protection.
Simultaneously they shaped a microclimate around
the house and, on sunny days, they threw a deep hor-
izontal shadow which protected the rooms against
overheating in summer.
An attic inside the high roof of the rural house was a
good insulator of the ground floor and generally was
not used for dwelling; only sometimes it served as
storage for foodstuffs or crops. A gable roof or half-
hip roof predominated in northern Poland, a hip roof
or gable roof with smaller cubature of space under
the roof ridge – in southern Poland and in some cen-
tral regions. Hip roofs have survived for the longest
time in Lesser Poland, Podlasie, and in some regions
of Mazovia, gable roofs were characteristic mainly in
Podhale and the Beskids [16, 17].
Another characteristic elements in rural architecture,
having essential influence on the thermal protection
of the house, were canopies and porches. They
played an important role of sheltering the house
entrance against precipitation and wind, and, in sum-
ter, also against the sun.
The hut of northern (coastal) Cassubia is represent-
ed by several variants, differing from each other.
However, it is always a house with wide frontage,
usually without a canopy [13]. Only in tightly built-up set-
tlements, the gable side has a canopy in the form of a recess which shelters an entrance. It is sometimes found in hamlet-type settlements where the buildings unite both a dwelling and farming part under one roof. Other common features of the dwelling houses in northern Cassubia are: high half-hip roof (rarely gable roof) with rafter-type construction, usually with a squint window under a ridge, framed in wind braces and finished with a decorative finial on the top (called “śparogi” – only plural), loosely covered with reed (rarely straw), and, in extremely poor regions, with heather.
The examples of Northern Cassubian huts are the preserved buildings from the 19th century in Ostrów, Swarzewo, Dębki, Nadole, Kluki, Smolno, and Karwieńskie Błota – the reconstruction (Fig. 2).
The Cassubian hut in Karwieńskie Błota is an example of a building of hamlet-type settlements where the connection of dwelling and farming parts under the common roof was a characteristic feature. It contributed to a significant improvement of the energy balance of the object thanks to a reduction of the area of external walls. A similar solution of the connection of dwelling and farming parts characteristic of the huts in Swarzewo, where one object with a gable roof rarely found in this region was preserved. Such covering can be found also in traditional fishermen’s huts, and the historic house in Dębki can be an example of this.
The preserved dwelling houses in Kluki, Nadole, Ostrów, and Smolno are typical for the architectural landscape of northern Cassubia of the 19th century. In Smolno, a tightly built-up settlement, apart from the huts without canopies characteristic for this region, the houses were erected also with a canopy in the form of a recess protecting the entrance zone against the negative influence of atmospheric conditions. A similar solution of the connection of dwelling and farming parts characteristic of the huts in Swarzewo, where one object with a gable roof rarely found in this region was preserved. Such covering can be found also in traditional fishermen’s huts, and the historic house in Dębki can be an example of this.
The preserved dwelling houses in Kluki, Nadole, Ostrów, and Smolno are typical for the architectural landscape of northern Cassubia of the 19th century. In Smolno, a tightly built-up settlement, apart from the huts without canopies characteristic for this region, the houses were erected also with a canopy in the form of a recess protecting the entrance zone against the negative influence of atmospheric conditions. A similar solution of the connection of dwelling and farming parts characteristic of the huts in Swarzewo, where one object with a gable roof rarely found in this region was preserved. Such covering can be found also in traditional fishermen’s huts, and the historic house in Dębki can be an example of this.
The Cassubian hut in Karwieńskie Błota is an example of a building of hamlet-type settlements where the connection of dwelling and farming parts under the common roof was a characteristic feature. It contributed to a significant improvement of the energy balance of the object thanks to a reduction of the area of external walls. A similar solution of the connection of dwelling and farming parts characteristic of the huts in Swarzewo, where one object with a gable roof rarely found in this region was preserved. Such covering can be found also in traditional fishermen’s huts, and the historic house in Dębki can be an example of this.
3.2. Room layout and system of functional connections
The heat protection in folk architecture manifested in the room layout in buildings as well. The rooms had quite low height – equal ca. 2.2 m [18]. Depending on the regions in Poland, different layouts of dwelling houses developed – affected not only by functional reasons or local traditions but also by climate conditions. It is noteworthy that the one-bay layouts were found mainly in the southern, south-eastern, and partly central regions of Poland. The transitional systems, one-and-half-bay layouts, consisted of rooms of different heights, were characteristic of houses mainly in the mountain and sub-mountain regions, whereas the two-bay layouts were more popular in the northern and north-eastern regions, where mean daily temperatures are lower and winters last longer [19]. This is justified by the fact that the two-bay layout is more advantageous on account of the limitation of heat loss from the building. Simultaneously in the prevailing part of northern Poland predominated houses on a tight plan with square-shaped outline. In the southern regions, however, houses were characterized by an elongated plan. The number of bays, such as the house’s width and length, had crucial influence on the type of roof and its proportion related to the house’s walls. The room layout was adapted to various climate conditions and work organization in summer and winter, which manifested in the changing functions of the dwelling chambers, mainly the kitchen and entrance hall [20]. The latter, however, at first played a role of shelter against climate factors. Especially noteworthy is the division of the building onto warm and cool zones.
The location of the chimney in the hut was tightly connected to the building’s interior layout. However, in the significant majority of cases, only one chimney is observed, which means that the kitchen and heating elements are concentrated in the central part of the building. This solution enabled the heating of rooms localized near the home’s bonfire. The most noteworthy is special care that both builders and dwellers took of the chimney system which provided the economical management of energy. One of the
advantages of the traditional ovens was that they accumulated heat and removed excess moisture from the rooms, mainly from over the kitchen stove, thanks to an uptake hole. In the buildings of southern and central Poland, for example in Mazovian huts, the chimney chambers were mostly a bit narrower than those in southern Poland [17].
The hut in Nadole, like other dwelling houses presented in the paper, represents the two-bay layout, characteristic for Cassubia, dividing the interior into a cool and warm zone (Fig. 3a). The south-western, warm zone was occupied by grandparents, young hosts with children, and a housemaid. The main entrance to the building led from the direction of a flower garden, through a hall paved with fieldstones, to the main big chamber where family life concentrated (Figs. 3c, d). The hall protected the building’s interior against wind and inflow of freezing air. Beyond the main chamber, in the cool zone of the building, a larder was localized, full of objects connected to the processing and storing of food. The opposite, smaller part of the hut was occupied by grandparents (Fig. 3e). A corner annex with a small window in the building’s cool zone served as a bedroom and, mainly, as a cubbyhole for more precious clothes and belongings (Fig. 3f). It is noteworthy that the building’s cool zone is made up of farming rooms according to the zone rule; the rooms with lower heat requirements are situated on the northern side of building.
The specific role in the building was played – as mentioned – by the fire system. A “black kitchen” – a chimney shaft, wide at its base was entered from the hall. The shaft functionally connected the inlet to heating stoves, fed with lumber and peat, with the smoke and soot of takes from niche fireplaces in the rooms (Fig. 3b). Apart from the “black kitchen”, found in northern Cassubia and popular among the German population, also a “white kitchen” was found in middle and southern Cassubia, an “evolutionary” variation of the “black kitchen” as well as niche kitchen hearths.
3.3. Structural elements of buildings
Folk architecture used building materials which were accessible in a given region, with help of simple devices. Thus it was organic, and its form, developed through generations, can inspire modern architects. Low temperature and its daily variations affected the selection of traditional materials for the construction of external baffles, allowing the natural diffusion of air and the regulation of humidity. Traditionally, the basic building material in Poland was wood, and its application had direct connection to the afforestation level in the separate regions of the country. Wood is characterized by many advantages but the most important of them is that it has good properties concerning heat protection and buildings made of it ensure the optimum health conditions to their...
dwellers. A log system predominated in the constructive solutions of solid wooden walls; the joints between separate beams were sealed with moss, couch grass or heather, then covered with decorative straw plaits or usually filled with clay and straw and limewashed. Wall thickness depended on climate regions. A certain conformity is observed between the regions with low winter temperature and the regions where the walls of rural houses had bigger areas of section compared to other regions [21]. Construction of solid wooden walls of the log system predominated in the central and southern parts of Poland. Lesser Poland and Podlasie are the regions where it has survived for the longest time in the pure form. Timber framing, characterized by the ability of heat accumulation and wood saving, prevailed in the northern and western regions of Poland, mainly in Żuławy and Greater Poland [16, 17]. When one talks about traditional folk architecture, they usually think about buildings made of wood and forget those made of clay, brick, or stone. The significance of these materials, however, increased tremendously during the reconstruction of the country after the introduction of property rights reforms, especially in northern and western Poland.
The roof cover in traditional folk architecture was mainly straw and reed. The predominating cover in the middle and southern regions, i.e. those where farming was intensive, was straw thatch; light and having good thermal and insulating properties consisting in keeping up the optimal temperature in all rooms, both in winter and summer. Straw cover, more resistant to humidity and drought as well as better resistant to water, was used mainly in the northern regions of Poland, in Pomerania and the Lake District [16].
The care of the building heat protection manifested also in the fact that the window and door openings – through which the significant quantity of heat escaped were limited to a minimum. Therefore, rooms not always were lit well. The windows usually had single panes which reduced their thermal and insulating properties. Simultaneously they were drafty, mainly due to improper fitting and not very thorough workmanship. However, decorative wooden shutters are noteworthy they were often used, usually closed for the night and in some regions, even for the whole winter. In this latter case, they were sealed with straw and opened only for spring. It must be emphasized that the shutters were a newer building element in the huts, although custom of the covering of windows is old. Long ago windows used to be insulated from the outside with straw mats attached with wooden pegs to the wall above the window opening. Window and door bands also protected against excessive heat loss; their role consisted mainly in sealing off the connection between the door or window frame and the wall [22]. Cassubian huts were usually
INFLUENCE OF ARCHITECTURAL SOLUTIONS ON BUILDING HEAT PROTECTION WITH EXAMPLE OF HISTORICAL RURAL HOUSES...
bored in timber framing, which was treated as a transition form between wooden and brick construction which constituted a medley of foreign influences and native forms of architectural art. The walls, erected as a frame with free spaces filled with unfired clay, called “paca” (pronounced [pa-tsa]), imitated the timber framing filled with fired clay. The application of “paca” was connected to the lack of local brickyard centers, increasing the price of bricks. Timber framing ensured that heat was kept inside in winters and mildly cool air in hot summers. The massive filling of the wooden skeleton with clay was characterized by high heat accumulation and relatively advantageous thermal properties. Despite the appearance of trapping humidity inside, this construction in fact had a dry interior (Fig. 4a). Some timber-framed walls filled with brick were covered with pugging made of gravel and clay to improve thermal conditions inside as well as to protect the wooden elements of the construction (Fig. 4b).
The most popular material for covering of roofs in this region, apart from straw, was reed (Fig. 4c). A roof covered with straw and reed survived for many years in Cassubian architecture despite bans and orders of the Prussian and then German and Polish authorities.
The windows in buildings were small, with single panes. The layout of windows in separate rooms is connected to the illumination of the hut’s inside. Apart from that, it is noteworthy that the window size was adapted to a zone depending on the temperature inside. The largest windows were situated in the building’s warm zone – in the living rooms, smaller – in the corner annex, the smallest – in the chamber and entrance hall belonging to the building’s cold zone. The four-pane frame in a small window was usually 0.65 x 1 m wide and 0.6 x 1 m high. The windows in the corner annexes usually had only two panes, arranged vertically. At the end of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th century, Cassubian huts had also some smaller openings which played a role of window vents in summer and were clogged with straw and moss in winter. Up until the beginning of the 19th century windows played a role of light source in the wealthy farmers’ houses and until the end of the 19th century in poor people’s houses, but they did not regulate the fresh air flow throughout the hut’s inside. As movable window casements had been introduced thanks to hinges, a need arose to mount windows in walls in a more durable way, using jams, which also contributed to the reduction of heat losses from buildings. Shutters were an integral part of windows in Cassubian huts from the 19th century on. Their task, apart from protection against thieves, was protection against excessive chilling of the hut’s inside. Shutters were placed on the windows having the larg-
Figure 5. Localization of buildings: a – plan of a wealthy farmer’s farmstead in the “skansen” in Nadole (1 – dwelling house, 2 – barn, 3 – cowshed, 4 – another dwelling house built later, 5 – coach house, 6 – cellar, 7 – building of the museum administration, 8 – bread oven, 9 – flower garden, 10 – vegetable garden, 11 – horse gear, 12 – well, 13 – pigeon loft), b – today’s Cassubian villages with street systems, developed in history, enabling to maximally expose the dwelling houses to the sun (1 – Karwieńskie Blota, 2 – Strzelno, 3 – Mechowo) (drawings by M. Górecka)
er area, whereas they were not applied to cover small, single-casement windows (Fig. 4d).
3.4. Localization of buildings and concepts of their surroundings
Climate conditions affected also the localization of rural buildings which were situated mainly in sun-exposed windy areas. In Polish folk architecture, the mountainous regions excluded, across time people avoided to erect houses in valleys and terrain depressions. The traditional huts’ fronts were often south-oriented which i.a. protected the chamber against overheating. Simultaneously, trees were planted on windward side.
The Cassubian huts in Karwięskie Błota and Swarzewo are additionally examples of a building of hamlet-type settlements where the unification of dwelling and farming parts under the same roof was a characteristic feature. It contributed to significant improvement of the energy balance of the object thanks to a reduction of the area of external walls. The whole farmstead constituted a functionally justified structure, present for generations. It represented a centripetal system which has always been the most numerous and oldest group of functional and spatial types of settlements adapted to technologies based on physical work.
The majority of Cassubian villages were built-up in such a way that dwelling houses were sun-oriented, and that definitely affected the heat management in the building. Simultaneously, the localization of a flower garden did not overshadow the southern elevation of the house (Fig. 5a). The examples of
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Selected elements of architecture</th>
<th>Characteristics of the selected elements</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>- dense building mass on a rectangular plan,</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- high roof, playing the role of a thermal buffer for the ground floor; it has an appropriate slope angle – ca. 48° – and eaves protruding out of the external walls at 80 cm (protection of external walls including the gable walls and building entrance zone),</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- canopy in a form of a recess, placed in the gable wall and protecting the entrance (in tightly built-up settlements, e.g. in Smolno)</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- small usable height of rooms – ca. 2.2 m.</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- two-bay layout dividing the interior into a cool zone (farming rooms) and warm zone (representative rooms),</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- entrance hall protecting the building’s interior against wind and inflow of cold air; the entrance zone is protected against atmospheric conditions by an external architectural element – eaves,</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- presence of only one chimney – concentration of heating and kitchen facilities, constituting a massive reservoir of heat energy, in the central part of a building</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- application of local building materials with good thermoinsulating properties (wood, clay on perches as well as reed, characterized by relatively high ability of heat accumulation),</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- the timber-framed walls filled with brick are covered by pugging made of gravel and clay</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- few window openings with small areas depending on the zone connected to interior temperature (the ratio of window area to floor area is equal ca. 1:13),</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- wooden shutters by larger windows</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- joining of dwelling and farming parts – improvement of the energy balance (hamlet-type settlements, e.g. in Karwięskie Błota and Swarzewo),</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>- orientation of a dwelling house towards the sun (for the house in Nadole, the declination from the N-S direction is equal ca. 35° towards the west)</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Cassubian huts in the investigated region are Karwieńskie Blota, Mechowo, Strzelno (Fig. 5b); the roads there run in the east-west direction enabling to maximally expose the dwelling houses to the sun.
The completed literature review and the authors’ own research illustrates the difference between the characteristic architectural elements of the historical rural houses from the 19th century in coastal Cassubia from the point of view of the thermal protection of buildings (Table 1).
3.5. Traditional solutions in contemporary houses
The importance of planning low energy consumption and healthy rural houses while considering local climate conditions and basing construction on traditional methods, with simultaneous application of technological innovations being in favor of the building heat protection, acquires increasing significance. Each house should be built in relation to the environment and use the full potential of its surroundings.
It is noteworthy that part of the rules developed in folk architecture in the past connected to the thermal protection of buildings can become a part of the architectural trends concerning modern low-energy consumption buildings. These solutions, complying with the climate of a region, were developed by our ancestors mainly by means of empirical methods of solving of problems based on rational premises. Several solutions in this field can be treated as fundamental: a compact building mass, usually on a rectangular plan; a simple gable or hip roof with buffer spaces and wide eaves; the interior’s division into warm and cool zones; the exposure of the maximum part of a building to the sun; the protection of a building against the wind.
Simultaneously, still-increasing demands on energy savings force the application of external baffles with a low overall heat transfer coefficient which is binding nowadays in common building construction. The basic difference, apart from the technological progress, consists i.a. in materials and constructive solutions of external baffles. Methods of their erection in historical buildings depended on the availability of a building material in the given region but in the majority of cases (i.a. in the investigated region of coastal, northern Cassubia) they were independent of the exposure to the sun. The southern walls in the currently constructed low-energy consumption houses are designed in a different way than the northern ones. Ancient rural houses were thermally protected not only thanks to the appropriate location and simple architecture but also thanks to the small area of windows through which significant heat losses occur. Nowadays, there is no such limitation. One can built low-energy consumption houses which simultaneously are fitted with glass in an optimal way and opened to the surroundings. Thanks to panes with advantageous ability of thermal insulation, reducing the heat loss from the inside as well as increasing the solar radiation permeability, it is possible to make an elevation with large glazed areas. It also enables creating rural architecture with new features and new aesthetic expression, moving with the times.
Not only is the beauty of ancient houses more often appreciated, but also the solutions, developed by our ancestors which now contribute to the thermal protection of buildings. This can be an inspiration prompting traditions in the future design of modern rural houses. These solutions have been known for ages, but only the technological development of our times allows us to implement them in a more perfect way. The architecture of the low-energy consumption buildings changes mainly thanks to the possibilities of new techniques in building construction, often even thanks to electronic equipment. The modern building should be the object containing the elements of rational solutions known from history combined with the elements of modern knowledge and technology. Hence, it is essential to combine the knowledge of our ancestors with modern technological achievements. Currently we strive to gain full control over environmental factors and convert them in a way which is most rational from the energy-saving point of view, so that, along with the building’s installations, they constitute an interior microclimate adapted to the users’ needs. The culmination of the quests for the highest possible effectiveness of the dwelling settlements, considering respect for energy, is the low-energy consumption architecture which is a synthesis of the best solutions developed across time [18].
The buildings erected at the beginning of the 20th century in Karwieńskie Blota are especially noteworthy. They are characterized by regional timber framing construction, half-hip roofs, often covered by reed. Some of them use passive heating system thanks to glazing of the southern elevations and optimal positioning of the buildings towards the sun. It is only one of few enclaves in northern Cassubia where architectural aesthetics still continue, the aesthetics which retain advantages of the regional architecture with the use of traditional and modern solutions of the buildings’ thermal protection (Fig. 6).
4. SUMMARY
The analyzed architectural elements, resulting i.a. from the specific climate and geographical conditions of northern Cassubia, distinguish this region from the other ones in Poland and speak for the thermal protection of buildings. To these elements, above all, belong:
1. Solid, rectangular plans of houses, advantageous from the point of view of thermal protection. A more elongated plan predominated in southern Poland and resulted mainly from a one-bay layout.
2. The significant protruding of roof eaves (equipped with wind beams), reaching 80 cm and protecting external walls and an entrance zone against the negative influence of atmospheric conditions. Larger eaves were found only in the Beskids and Podhale.
3. Large cubature of the attic of a half-hip roof playing the role of a thermal buffer of the ground floor and the upper protection of gable walls. A hip roof or gable roof with smaller cubature of space under the roof ridge predominated in southern Poland and in some central regions (the hip roofs have survived for the longest time in Lesser Poland, Podlasie, and in some regions of Mazovia, the gable roofs were characteristic mainly in Podhale and the Beskids).
4. The two-bay layout, improving thermal and insulating properties of the object. The two-bay layout predominated in southern and south-eastern regions of Poland as well as in some parts of the central ones; a transitional system – one-and-half-bay layout – consisted of rooms with different heights, was found in the mountain and sub-mountain regions.
5. The concentration of the kitchen and heating facilities (in the central part of the house) having high accumulation properties and distributing heat evenly. In the buildings of the remaining parts of Poland, for example in the Mazovian huts, the chimney chambers were usually a bit narrower than those occurring in northern Poland.
6. Application of timber framing, characterized by heat accumulation properties and savings in lumber (this type of construction was characteristic also for western regions of Poland, Zulawy and Greater Poland). In the central and southern parts of Poland, the solid wooden walls of the log system predominated (Lesser Poland and Podlasie are the regions where it has survived in the pure form for the longest time).
The analysis of individual elements of folk architecture – starting from the shaping of the building mass,
through the rooms’ layout, structural elements, heating facilities, to the very localization of a building on the plot and concept of surroundings – allows to state that the society of that time used all accessible means to preserve heat in buildings as best as it was possible. The creative thought of the constructors is visible especially in the constructive logistics, a response to local climate conditions simultaneously affecting the regional character of rural houses. Surely in many cases these objects can be an inspiration in quests for low-energy consumption solutions during the design of modern houses in rural areas.
REFERENCES
|
Early modern architecture : Chicago, 1870-1910
Date
1940
Publisher
The Museum of Modern Art
Exhibition URL
www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions/2050
The Museum of Modern Art’s exhibition history—from our founding in 1929 to the present—is available online. It includes exhibition catalogues, primary documents, installation views, and an index of participating artists.
EARLY MODERN ARCHITECTURE
CHICAGO 1870-1910
EARLY MODERN ARCHITECTURE
CHICAGO 1870 - 1910
CONTENTS
BIOGRAPHIES of the leading architects page 2
CHRONOLOGY of the technical development of the
skyscraper with an introduction page 7
CHRONOLOGY of the aesthetic development of the
skyscraper with an introduction page 13
LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS in the exhibition with
comments on each page 17
Catalog of an exhibition held at The Museum of Modern Art,
New York, from January 18 to February 23, 1933
Second edition, revised, March 1940
**JENNEY**
Studied at Lawrence Scientific School. Graduated from Ecole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures in Paris, 1856, as engineer and architect. Engineer on Sherman's and Grant's staff in the Civil War. Settled as architect in Chicago. Built Grace Episcopal Church, Union League Club, etc. but chiefly known for his commercial buildings. Generally considered the first to use steel skeleton construction. A technician rather than a designer.
Photographs: #4, 5, 14
**RICHARDSON**
A.B. Harvard 1859. Worked and studied in Paris at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in the atelier of J. L. André and with Labrouste. Established himself after the Civil War as an architect
THEODORE WILLIAM HOPCROOK TENNEN. BORN 1888 IN CLEVELAND, OHIO.
Served in the U.S. Army during World War I.
A RIFLEMAN DURING THE GREAT WAR, HE RECEIVED THE AWARD OF THE CIVIL WAR MEDAL OF HONOR.
Following the war, he became a successful businessman in the field of electrical engineering. He was associated with several companies, including the Hopcrook Electric Company.
He was involved in various community activities and served as a trustee for several educational institutions.
In later years, he remained active in his profession and was recognized for his contributions to the field of electrical engineering.
Biography:
Photograph: "A.E., 1914.
Died in Clevel
A.R. Nevada, 1922. Worked and studied in the field of electrical engineering.
He received the award of the Civil War Medal of Honor.
Following the war, he became a successful businessman in the field of electrical engineering. He was associated with several companies, including the Hopcrook Electric Company.
He was involved in various community activities and served as a trustee for several educational institutions.
In later years, he remained active in his profession and was recognized for his contributions to the field of electrical engineering.
first in New York and then in Brookline. His reputation was established by his design for Trinity Church, built in Boston 1872-77, based on Romanesque precedent. In his later work the importance of reminiscent elements of design grew less and less, but his originality as an architect was based on the integrity of his use of traditional construction rather than on technical innovations. To the new national architecture he contributed not methods of building but a formative spirit.
Photographs: #7,8,9.
Studied M.I.T., 1873. Worked for a short while in the office of Furness and Hewitt in Philadelphia, and of Wm. LeBaron Jenney in Chicago. Studied from 1874 to 1876 at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris, in the atelier of Vaudremer. Returning to Chicago he joined Adler's staff in
Life in New York and Plan in Preparing His Report was supplemented by the gentleman's trip to Trinity Church, part in Boston and part in New York. In the latter work the importance of reminder elements of color, after new ideas of color, put his originality as an artist first was based on the interpretative use of traditional construction rather than on the new nationalistic innovation. As the new nationalistic architecture he contributed not only of painting but the art of a coming age.
1879 and was a full partner with Adler from 1881 to 1895. Sullivan's later associate, Elmslie, was never a partner and eventually left to work as an independent architect. Applying the basic stylistic discipline of Richardson's Marshall Field Wholesale Store (#7) to the new skeleton construction, Sullivan first found a dignified clothing for the skyscraper. In his work of the late eighties and early nineties his designs emphasized the vertical (#20). Soon, however, he found a more logical expression of the underlying construction with a scheme of wide windowed horizontality (#21,22). Sullivan led for two decades a considerable group of architects known as the Chicago School, but he alone made of the early skyscraper an aesthetic invention.
This work contains full bibliography on writings by or about Sullivan.
I have and was a full partner with White from 1985.
"Gulliver's Last Adventure" mistake to 1965.
"Gulliver"s Last Adventure" mistake to 1965.
were never a partner and eventually left to work
as an independent expedition without any recognition of British Gulliver's first four adventures for the Barret family.
Erica Theodorou Stone (1% to 1965) to the new expedition of the late eighties and early nineties for 50%. Soon shape expressing the vertical.
However, he found a more peculiarity expression of the Barretting cooperation with a scheme of the matching cooperation with a scheme of which Winfred Bnterson's (1961, 38) Gulliver's for two seasons a cooperative branch of the M.A. Movement known as the Chicago School put the scheme made at the early expeditions as erratic
Invention.
Publication: "Gulliver's Trip of Modern" of Houghton Mifflin, New York, The
Architectural History Foundation, N.W. Norton & Company
1955
This work contains full bibliography on Mr. White.
"Gulliver's Last Adventure" of Henry Gulliver.
Interpretation and History of Modern, 15 issues,
Photographs: #16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23.
Dankmar Adler, Born in Langsfeld, Sachsen-Weimar, in 1844. Died in Chicago, 1900.
Came to America in 1854. Studied in Detroit with Julius Melchers, John Schaefer and Willard Smith, and in Chicago, 1857-62. First partnership with Kinney, 1869-71, with Burling, 1871-78.
Adler, during his partnership with Sullivan was never a designer.
Frank Lloyd Wright. Born Richland Center, Wisconsin, 1869, now living at Taliesin, Spring
A Critical Review of the Work of After a Double.
Christopher Street, Dec. 1932.
References: W. H. H. 19, 19, 19, 19, 19, 19, 19, 19.
In 1934, died in Chicago, 1930. Cared to write in 1935. Published in both English and German.
L. W. 1932-34, W. 1935-36. Also published in the
After, started his participation with Sullivan was
never a geologist.
Photographs: James Sullivan together of Mexico.
Architectural Hugh Harrow. New York, The
1935.
Frank Lloyd Wright, Frank Lloyd Wright Center, Milwauk ee.
Green, Wisconsin.
Studied engineering at the University of Wisconsin, 1885-88. Worked in Chicago with Silsbee and then with Adler & Sullivan, 1889-94. His independent practice began with the Winslow House (#33) in River Forest, Ill., 1892-93. By 1900 his new type of domestic design had developed far beyond that of the rest of the Chicago School. In his early work only should he be considered a disciple of Sullivan. His great innovations lie outside the field of this exhibition.
A bibliography of Frank Lloyd Wright can be found in Modern Architecture, a catalog published by the Museum of Modern Art in 1932.
Photograph: #33.
Studied in Chicago architects' offices including that of Peter Wright where he met Root.
John Wellborn Root, born Lumpkin, Ga., 1850.
Died Chicago, 1891. Graduated New York University, 1869. Worked in Renwick's office in New York, then went to Chicago after the fire of 1871, where in 1872 he met Burnham in Wright's office,
and formed a partnership with him the next year. This firm was responsible for the development of the highly organized and specialized American architectural office and methods of practice. Until Root's early death he was one of the more original Chicago Richardsonians. The prolific work of the firm beginning with the general supervision of the World's Fair was rarely original or distinguished in design.
Photographs: #10, 11, 12.
Martin Roche. Born Cleveland, Ohio, 1855. Died Chicago, 1927.
and formed a partnership with him the next year.
The firm was responsible for the development
of the major operating and specialty units
of the hospital, including the emergency room,
and was instrumental in the design and
construction of many of its buildings. The
firm's involvement began with the
construction of the first hospital building,
the Coventry Hospital, in 1928.
John H. Ogilvie, M.D., was born in
Boston, Massachusetts, on July 15, 1889.
William H. Rogers, M.D., was born in
Cleveland, Ohio, on September 18, 1880.
Rogers was a partner of the firm from 1928
until his death in 1953. The hospital
After World War II, the firm became
more primarily involved in the design of
hospital facilities.
Ogilvie was a partner of the firm
from 1928 until his death in 1953.
The firm's involvement in the
development of the hospital continued
through the remainder of the 20th century,
with the construction of several major
medical centers.
The firm's legacy continues to this day,
with many of its buildings still standing
and serving as important landmarks in
the history of healthcare.
Photograph: 111. H. Rogers and
Ogilvie
Photograph: 112. H. Rogers
and Ogilvie
Photographs: #6, 24.
Photographs: The "31"
The tall commercial building, early labelled the skyscraper, was the most conspicuous achievement of American architecture in the second half of the nineteenth century.
In the creation of the skyscraper several complementary lines of technical development joined. First, in the fifties, iron skeleton construction was often used to replace masonry bearing walls, sometimes in the interior of the building, sometimes as an ornamental cast iron facade. Then, with the introduction of the elevator, buildings higher than six stories became convenient and acceptable. At the same time, methods of fireproofing the metal skeleton were invented in New York, and effective pier foundations developed in Chicago. Finally, in Chicago, by the late eighties, the protective masonry shell came to be carried by the metal framework in which Bessemer steel replaced cast and wrought iron. The skyscraper, imminent for more than a generation, thus became an actuality.
CONCLUSION OF THE TECHNICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE EXPEDITION
The last commercial balloon was the most expensive development of American science, being the second half of the nineteenth century.
In the creation of the expedition several countries.
It was the centenary of the discovery of aviation and the beginning of commercial aviation. The first step was the invention of the Wright brothers.
Then, the discovery of the aeroplane by the Wright brothers.
The Wright brothers...
1848 Bogardus Building, Duane Street, New York, by Bogardus. Now demolished
First use of cast iron facade.
1851 Crystal Palace, Hyde Park, London, by Paxton
First structure entirely of iron and glass.
1851-65 Dome of Capitol, Washington, D.C., by Thomas U. Walter
Built of cast iron.
1853 New York Crystal Palace (in imitation of Paxton's)
Now demolished
First passenger elevator in America.
1854 Harper's Building, Franklin Square, New York
Now demolished
Introduction of wrought iron girders.
1855 Invention in England of Bessemer's converter for producing superior wrought iron known as "Steel".
1859 Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York
Now demolished
Passenger elevator first used in a permanent building.
1862 Siemens' invention in Germany of the Open Hearth Process for steel.
1868 Equitable Life Assurance Society Building, Broadway, New York. Now demolished
First office building with elevator.
1871 Fire-resistant hollow-tile floor for use with wrought iron beams patented by Balthasar Kreischer.
1873 Introduction into America of Bessemer steel by Carnegie.
1880 Price of land in Chicago Loop district reaches $130,000 per quarter acre, thus encouraging higher buildings. Compare 1890.
1881 Buffington's dreams of metal "cloud-scrappers" based on Viollet-le-Duc's ideas.
1881 Montauk Building, Chicago, by Burnham & Root Introduction of separate spread foundations for separate piers.
1884-85 Home Insurance Building, Chicago, by Jenney Demolished, 1931 Usually considered the first skyscraper. Weight carried largely by framework of cast and wrought iron concealed inside the masonry. Bessemer steel beams first used here above the sixth floor.
1887-88 Tacoma Building, Chicago, by Holabird & Roche Demolished, 1929 Often considered the first skyscraper. All the structural potentialities of metal frame construction are implicit, but the iron skeleton is called upon to carry less than half the weight of the building.
1888-89 Pulitzer Building, New York, by George B. Post At the time of its erection, the highest building in the world (349 feet). Masonry walls; interior piers of cast iron.
The research pollock floor for me with
Introduction into varieties of recesses secret of
Conclusion: Complete 1940.
Building: Chicago "muck" brown
Based on "Volk-Floors". I.e.
Michaels, "Mud" Brown & Roof
Introduction of separate anxiety combinations for
Rookery Building, Chicago, by" Brian & a Roof
Small construction as home insurance Building. New
Type of combination of plastic access in concrete.
Tactical Building, Chicago, py Hospital & House
Conclusion: 1930
According to the latest, the latest
Building, at the time of the construction, the latest public
Interior design of each floor.
1889
Tower Building, New York, by Bradford Lee Gilbert
Now demolished
First use of metal skeleton of true skyscraper type in New York.
1889
Rand-McNally Building, Chicago, by Burnham & Root
Rolled steel beams and columns of standard bridge shapes riveted together as still used today.
1889-90
Second Leiter Building, Chicago, by Jenney
First building in which all the walls are supported by the internal metal skeleton.
1890
Monadnock Block, Chicago, by Burnham & Root
Last tall building with solid masonry bearing walls. Sixteen stories.
1890
Price of land in Chicago Loop district $900,000 per quarter acre. Compare 1880
High buildings encouraged by high land values force land values ever higher.
1891
"Skyscraper - a very tall building such as now are being built in Chicago" - Maitland's American Slang Dictionary
Tower Publishing, New York, by Depression. The furniture
First use of metal selection of line separator
Chicago Tribune, Chicago, by permission & license.
1880
Monarch Book, Chicago, by permission & license.
1880-90
Last call publishing with sliding mechanical press
1890
1890
High publishing encouraged by high land values.
1891
"Ex expected a very fine publishing such as now
The People's Party in Chicago" - Willard's American Equal
"Dictatorship"
Original design in the skyscraper did not keep pace with new developments in construction. The facades of the early experimental buildings in the late seventies and eighties (#4 especially), although often more honest in the expression of skeleton construction than many more modern buildings, were appallingly crude. Yet it was their frank emphasis on wide-windowed horizontality that fore-shadowed such developed skyscraper design as in the Schlesinger-Mayer Building (#22) and Gage Building (#23).
But the building which initiated a new spirit in commercial design was Richardson's masonry Marshall Field Wholesale Store (#7). Deriving at first his inspiration from the Romanesque, Richardson in his later work reached a highly original and pure expression of masonry construction adapted either to residence or commercial design. The Marshall Field Wholesale Store provided for the young Chicago architects an aesthetic discipline of regularity and simplicity from which Sullivan rapidly created a new personal style.
The influence of Sullivan's style was so great that it attracted a group of young architects who formed under his leadership the Chicago School.
The free non-traditional architecture of the Chicago
The Influence of Gulliver's style was so great that it instilled a sense of wonder and imagination in the readers of the Chicago School.
The Influence of Gulliver's style was so great that it instilled a sense of wonder and imagination in the readers of the Chicago School.
School retained its vigor until about 1910 when the stylistic revivalism which had made its first striking appearance in Chicago with the World's Fair of 1893, vitiated its force.
1877 Leiter Building I, Chicago, by Jenney.
Non-stylistic expression of mixed masonry and cast iron construction.
Further simplification of the Richardsonian Romanesque.
The masterpiece of early commercial architecture in masonry.
1886 The Rookery, Chicago, by Burnham & Root.
Unintelligent application of Richardsonian Romanesque. Uninfluenced by Marshall Field Wholesale Store.
1889 Pray Building, Boston, by Richardson.
Furthest development of Richardson's commercial style. Shallow reveals and light spandrels at story levels.
1887-88 Tacoma Building, Chicago, by Holabird & Roche. Demolished, 1929.
General scheme uninfluenced by masonry design, though detail is slightly Richardsonian.
School meeting the great multi-plant 1920 when the original
redevelopment which made the Clear Striking appearance in
Chicago with the World's Fair of 1893, affixed the logo.
1874-75 Cheney Building (now Brown-Thompson Co.), Hartford, Conn., by Richardson.
A personal interpretation of Romanesque design applied to commercial architecture.
1879 Leiter Building I, Chicago, by Jenney.
Non-stylistic expression of mixed masonry and cast iron construction.
1882 Ames Building, Kingston and Bedford Sts., Boston, by Richardson. Replaced in 1892.
Further simplification of the Richardsonian Romanesque.
The masterpiece of early commercial architecture in masonry.
1886 The Rookery, Chicago, by Burnham & Root.
Unintelligent application of Richardsonian Romanesque. Uninfluenced by Marshall Field Wholesale Store.
1886 Fray Building, Boston, by Richardson.
Furthest development of Richardson's commercial style. Shallow reveals and light spandrels at story levels.
1887-88 Tacoma Building, Chicago, by Holabird & Roche. Demolished, 1929.
General scheme uninfluenced by masonry design, though detail is slightly Richardsonian.
A personal interpretation of Romanesque.
Letter building in Chicago, 'rh' tenery.
Neo-classic expression of mixed mass and
case from construction.
A means building, drainage and baking sides.
Further simplification of the Richardsonian
Romanesque.
Further application of Richardsonian
The masterpiece of early commercial architecture
in Mass.
The Hoekyn, Chicago, 'rh' building & roof.
Further development of Richardson's commercial
style. Shell were new and light spanned by
arches.
Teach building, Chicago, 'rh' hospital & house.
General scheme influencing commercial design.
Cheney Building (now Brown-Thompson Co.).
1879.
1884-85.
1885-86.
1886.
1887-89 Auditorium Building, Chicago, by Adler & Sullivan.
Strongly under the influence of Richardson's masonry Marshall Field Wholesale Store. In the tower appear the beginnings of Sullivan's more personal expression. Compare Walker Warehouse (#18).
1889-90 Leiter Building II, Chicago, by Jenney.
A direct development from Jenney's first Leiter Building (#4) in its clear expression of structure. Influenced in detail and general sense of form by the Marshall Field Wholesale Store.
1890-91 Monadnock Block, Chicago, by Burnham & Root.
Rigidly simplified masonry design with Richardsonian sense of form.
1891-92 Wainwright Building, St. Louis, by Adler & Sullivan.
Sullivan's vertical type of skyscraper design here fully developed for the first time. Compare Schiller Building (#20).
1893 Meyer Building, Chicago, by Adler & Sullivan.
Sullivan's more logical horizontal type of skyscraper design preserving wide fenestration of Jenney's Leiter Building I (#4).
Further development of wide-windowed design, with narrow supports and spandrels veneered with terra cotta.
1900-10 The heyday of the Chicago School under the inspiration of Sullivan's work of the previous decade.
LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS WITH COMMENTS
1. 33 SOUTH FRANKLIN STREET (corner of Monroe Street), Chicago. c. 1872.
This building retains the dignity and good proportions of the Classical Revival. The simple masonry post and lintel construction is clearly expressed in the design. Cast iron posts are used only in certain bays on the ground floor.
2. 221-227 WEST RANDOLPH STREET, Chicago. 1880.
Unusually large window area for masonry construction. Cast iron posts on the ground floor only. The elegance of extreme simplicity is still reminiscent of the Greek Revival.
3. WILLOUGHBY BUILDING, Jackson and Monroe Streets (northeast corner) Chicago. 1884.
Structurally a great advance: the use of wrought and cast iron instead of masonry walls permits building higher without sacrificing light on the lower stories. The peculiar ornament is ambitious in its originality, but no more appropriate to the new material than traditional forms.
4. WILLIAM LE BARON JENNEY
LEITER BUILDING I, 200 West Monroe Street, Chicago. 1879. Two stories added later.
An important step toward the skyscraper: the use of cast iron posts between the masonry piers introduces more light. The design is crude, but the general horizontal
I.
92 SOUTH FRANKLIN STREET (corner of Monroe Street)
Chicago, I. I. R.
The building resembles the dignity and sturdiness proportionate to the classical Revival. The simple columned porch and lintel construction is strikingly expressed in the gable. Clear from the porch are seen only in certain parts of the entrance floor.
8.
851-859 WEST RANDOLPH STREET, Chicago. 1880
The uniformly large window areas for masonry construction characterize both houses on the ground floor only. The absence of such ornamentation as pilasters reminiscent of the Greek Revival.
5.
WILLIAM H. BLAYDON, 1884
This building is Jacobean and Modern English (Victorian). As such, it combines thoroughly modern and picturesque features. The use of windows and doors is two stories, placed in pairs, and harmony with the old-fashioned picturesque effect on the lower stories. The design is of great interest and constitutes the main novelty in the decoration.
4.
WILLIAM A. MADISON
The entrance in grade, not the general requirement.
Two stories with gable roof. An important step toward the symmetrical use of space from the base to the top. The design is simple, and the general proportion.
ordering foreshadows the more finished designs of the later steel skyscrapers. Compare with the Schlesinger-Meyer Building (#22).
5. WILLIAM LE BARON JENNEY
HOME INSURANCE BUILDING, Chicago. 1884-85. Two stories added, 1890. Demolished, 1931.
The crucial step in the creation of the skyscraper. The metal skeleton supports all the weight of the building except the exterior masonry walls which are partially self supporting. Above the second floor in the masonry piers between the windows are iron columns which strengthen the piers. This added strength makes it possible to diminish the width of the piers and increase the width of the windows. Part of the weight of the exterior masonry is carried by the metal frame. In principle the building has ceased to be a crustacean (chief support by masonry shell) and is already implicitly a vertebrate (chief support by skeleton, including support of exterior walls). Jenney did not yet realize the revolutionary quality of the device he had employed above the second floor.
For the first time in America, Bessemer steel is introduced in place of wrought iron above the sixth floor. The importance of the building lies entirely in the construction, not in the design.
6. HOLABIRD & ROCHE
Often considered the first true skyscraper. The outer walls, instead of supporting the building, were designed
The committee recommendation for the more finishing gesture of the
after steel staircase and compared with the constructor.
7. NEVER BUILDING (ILLS)
5. WILLIAM T. BROWN COMPANY
HOME INSURANCE BUILDING
Chicago, 1884-86. Two stories
3500 feet. Demolished, 1925.
The committee states in the report of the architect that the
meant ascension supposes all the weight of the building.
except the exterior running walls, which are partially
self supporting. Above the second floor the reason
pier between the windows are two columns where
strengthen the pier. These steel columns makes it poss-
ible to diminish the width of the pier and increase the
width of the window. Part of the weight of the exterior
masonry is carried by the mason. These, in principle, the
piering being passed a corner to a compression (steel support)
between these (self) and the strength pulling a vertebrate
(steel support to exterior, non-influence support or exterior
wall). Hence get not yet realize the definitively
duality of the second floor and employ over the second
floor.
For the first time in America, Beamless steel is used-
To the last time in America. Beamless steel is used-
An excellent example of the first time exterior in the con-
ight. Not in the general.
6. HOLABIRD & ROGERS
TACOMA BUILDING, Chicago. 1884-86. Demolished 1925.
While interested in supporting the outlining were hesitating
with the committee. The first time exterior in the counter
from the first to be supported by the skeleton. But there are still important masonry bearing walls. The skeleton, though more developed than that of the Home Insurance Building, is called upon to carry less than half the actual weight of the building.
The ornament is reminiscent of Richardson, but the general design, unlike that of the Home Insurance Building is light and does not give the impression of masonry bearing walls. Like the first Leiter Building this represents a straight-forward if undistinguished expression of a new type of construction.
7. H. H. RICHARDSON
MARSHALL FIELD WHOLESALE STORE, Chicago. 1885-86.
Demolished 1930.
The masterpiece of commercial architecture in masonry, and the strongest single influence on the design of Chicago commercial architecture of the next generation. Even when this influence was no longer direct, the aesthetic discipline of regular and simple design continued.
8. H. H. RICHARDSON
GLESSNER HOUSE, 1800 South Prairie Avenue, Chicago. 1885.
Here, as in the Marshall Field Wholesale Store, Richardson generalized and recreated the traditional elements of design which he had earlier borrowed directly from the Romanesque. The disposition of the plan with the main rooms opening toward the court rather than toward the street is unusual in America.
The movement in remittance of flaxseed to the East was a factor in the development of the home insurance business. The advantages of remittance were the lower cost and greater freedom from fluctuation of remittance of remittance. The movement is reminiscent of flaxseed, and the reason for the remittance of remittance was the lower cost and greater freedom from fluctuation of remittance.
7. H. N. Richardes
MARSHALL "WILD WHOLESALE STORE" Chicago. 1939-40
Demolition 1930
The masterpiece of commercial architecture in Manhattan, and the antecedent stage in the evolution of the gesture of Chicago commercial architecture of the next generation. Even when this influence was no longer direct, the esthetic effect of the gesture of Chicago commercial architecture continued.
8. H. N. Richardes
OLISSER HOUSE 1600 South Prairie Avenue Chicago. 1885
Here, as in the Marshall "Wild Wholesale Store" Remembrance of the gesture which he had earlier portrayed directly from the pose of opening toward the coming century, the gesture is expressed in American architecture.
9. H. H. RICHARDSON
McVEAGH HOUSE, Chicago. 1885. Demolished.
Less original than the Glessner House, this house by
Richardson is nevertheless superior to most work of the
Richardsonians of the eighties. Compare Art Institute
(#10).
10. BURNHAM & ROOT
ART INSTITUTE (Later THE CHICAGO CLUB), Chicago. 1886-87.
Root here attained some of the regularity and dignity of
Richardson's work. The dormers, banded arches and profu-
sion of ornament derive from Richardson's more archaeo-
logical work of the seventies rather than from the
Marshall Field Wholesale Store (#7) and the Glessner
House (#8).
11. BURNHAM & ROOT
FIRST INFANTRY ARMORY (Now 131st INFANTRY ARMORY), South
Michigan Ave. at Sixteenth Street, Chicago. 1890. Rebuilt
after fire, 1894.
The contrast of tiny windows and colossal portal, the
avoidance of fussy detail, and the fortress-like scale
of the whole illustrate the possibilities of the free
traditional design which existed in Chicago before the
World's Fair. The medievalism is hardly Richardsonian
but rather that of the projects of the early nineteenth
century in France.
12. BURNHAM & ROOT
MONADNOCK BLOCK, 53 West Jackson Street, Chicago. 1891.
This entirely unornamented building is the last tall
structure with masonry bearing walls. In spite of its
great originality, this design could hardly have been evolved without the precedent of the Marshall Field Wholesale Store (#7).
13. **BURLING & WHITEHOUSE**
200 WEST ADAMS STREET, Chicago. c. 1892.
Although this building is Richardsonian in general design, the absence of arches, the unusual cornice and the curved brick corners give it original character.
14. **WILLIAM LE BARON JENNEY**
**LEITER BUILDING II** (Now SEARS ROEBUCK & CO.) southeast corner of State and Van Buren Streets, Chicago. 1889-90.
A direct development from Jenney's first Leiter Building (#4) in its clear expression of structure. The detail, however, and the general proportioning show the influence of the Marshall Field Wholesale Store (#7).
15. **GEORGE B. POST**
Although at its completion the tallest building in the world (349 feet), this New York tower is progressive neither in structure nor design. It has masonry bearing walls on the exterior, 12 feet thick at the base, and only the interior is supported on wrought iron columns. Yet the Home Insurance and Tacoma Buildings had been completed several years earlier.
The conventional scheme of academic Renaissance design (the dome of the Invalides has been placed on top of the Louvre) is characteristic of the Eastern architecture of
streets of the city have been
Avon Square Barn (1892)
14
1022 W. Adams Street, Chicago, Ill.
A four-story structure of brick and stone, the structure and the
William H. Barnum
Letter Building II (now Stake Research and Conference Center), Chicago, Illinois
center of the west and a new center of commerce and the
George R. Best
Letter Building, Park Row, New York, 1922-23
The construction of the Letter Building is the
C. Allen Teal
The New York Times, 1922
yet the home insurance and stock exchanges have been
completed several years earlier.
The completion of a new home development center
(the home of the insurance companies) has been placed on top of the
L. A. Page, "Characteristics of the Eastern Exposition of
characteristics of the recent commerce project have been
whole sale stores (1882)
19
504 W. Adams Street, Chicago, Ill.
A four-story building in the building in the
Barnum & Whitney
concourse of state and new express of structures. The height
however, and the general proportioning show the influ-
ence of the commercial district whole sale stores (1882)
this period, and is inappropriate and devoid of scale. Compare the second Leiter Building (#14) built in the same year in Chicago.
16. ADLER & SULLIVAN
AUDITORIUM BUILDING, Michigan Avenue at Van Buren Street, Chicago. 1887-89.
The treatment here of the masonry bearing walls shows strongly the direct influence of the Marshall Field Wholesale Store (#7). The lower portions have been influenced by the Marquis de Vogüé's publications on early Syrian architecture. Only in the tower appears the beginning of Sullivan's more personal style.
17. ADLER & SULLIVAN
BALLROOM, AUDITORIUM BUILDING, Michigan Avenue at Van Buren Street, Chicago. 1889.
A monumental interior which reveals Sullivan's power of original design in a field totally different from the office buildings which made his fame.
18. ADLER & SULLIVAN
WALKER WAREHOUSE, Market Street between Adams and Quincy Streets, Chicago. 1888-89.
Here the flatter surfaces and the more vertical grouping indicate the direction Sullivan's manner was to take as it freed itself from the influence of Richardson.
This page is blurred and unreadable, and contains no visible text.
19. ADLER & SULLIVAN
ANSHE MAARIV SYNAGOGUE (Now PILGRIM BAPTIST CHURCH),
southeast corner of Indiana Avenue and 33rd Street,
Chicago. 1890-91.
An interior, simple in general design, but lavishly orna-
tmented with the delicate geometric and foliate patterns
so characteristic of Sullivan's later work. In this in-
terior the ornament is a gracious element in the design;
on his office buildings, on the other hand, it is often
incidental and redundant.
20. ADLER & SULLIVAN
SCHILLER BUILDING, (Garrick Theatre) 64 West Randolph
Street, Chicago. 1891-92.
An example of Sullivan's vertical skyscraper design. The
scheme developed in the Wainwright Building of the pre-
vious year in St. Louis is applied to the shell of a metal
skeleton building. The prominent cornice is a feature
which appears in many of Sullivan's buildings.
Note: In the foreground is the Borden Block, 1880, de-
signed by Sullivan when he was a junior partner
in D. Adler & Company.
21. ADLER & SULLIVAN
MEYER BUILDING, southwest corner of Van Buren and
Franklin Streets, Chicago. 1893. Cornice removed.
In this building the horizontal type of design provides
more logical expression of the underlying structure than
the vertical treatment of the Schiller Building (#20).
The wide windows preserve the practical advantages of
ADLER & SULLIVAN
MAGINE ISLAND SYNAGOGUE (now PILGRIM BAPTIST CHURCH)
Columbia Center of Illinois Avenue and 55th Street
Chicago. 1890-91.
An interior, simple in general arrangement, but lavishly ornate
worked with the brilliant geometric and collage patterns
on a characteristic of Sullivan's later work. In this in-
terior the ornament is a decorative element in the ceiling
on the office buildings, on the other hand it is often
incidental and decorative.
ADLER & SULLIVAN
SCHILLER BUILDING, (Cattick Trust) 69 West Randolph
Street, Chicago. 1892-93.
These example of Sullivan's architect's signature
schem developed in the Wright trial building of the same
year. Here, as the Gage is applied to the effect of a metal
screen to create the unison line, the ornament is a feature
which appears in many of Sullivan's buildings.
NACC 40. WRIGHT BUILDING, Kalamazoo, Michigan.
Wright: In the permanent to the group, there was a human pattern
struck by Sullivan when he was a junior partner.
in D. Adler & Company.
ADLER & SULLIVAN
WEYER BUILDING, southwest corner of Van Buren and Ferguson Streets, Chicago. 1888. Concrete frame.
Franklin Street and Van Buren. 1889. Concrete frame.
In this building the prominent type of building provides
more focus on the expression of the material structure plan
the vertical treatment of the Schiller Building (1890).
The wide window between the projecting balconies of
increased light achieved in the first Leiter Building (#4).
22. LOUIS SULLIVAN
SCHLESINGER-MEYER BUILDING (Now CARSON PIRIE SCOTT & CO.)
State and Madison Streets, Chicago. First section 1899.
Second section 1903-04.
A further development of the horizontal window treatment.
The sense of an exterior wall has disappeared. There re-
mains only a grille of vertical columns and horizontal
beams, sheathed in terra cotta for fireproofing. The or-
namental incrustation on the lower stories is typical of
Sullivan.
23. LOUIS SULLIVAN
GAGE BUILDING, 18 South Michigan Avenue, Chicago. 1899.
Note: Only the facade on the right (Gage Building) is by
Sullivan. The two facades on the left as well as the
structure of all three buildings are by HOLABIRD & ROCHE.
The structure of all three buildings is clearly revealed
in the facades. The difference between Sullivan's facade
and the other two is that between the studied proportions
of fine architecture and ordinary structural honesty.
24. HOLABIRD & ROCHE
CABLE BUILDING, southeast corner of Jackson and Wabash
Streets, Chicago. 1899.
The Chicago formula of skyscraper design used without
great distinction. But even such ordinary Chicago work
is more significant than the architectural revivalism
then current in the eastern United States.
increased light received in the first letter building.
Louis Sullivan
A further development of the porvontic window treatment.
The sense of an interior well was disregarded. There were only a sense of vertical columns and portal.
The columns, especially in the office for Fireproofing. The columns are no longer supporting columns, but columns for the internal decoration of the room.
Louis Sullivan
63. Chicago Tribune. 19 South Michigan Avenue, Chicago. 1909.
Note: Only the lobbies on the first (bike building) and the second floors are as well as the Sullivan's. The two lobbies on the first floor as the structure of all these buildings are by Holabird & Roche.
The structure of all these buildings is clearly different. The structure of the Sullivan's lobby is the one between the two lobbies. The structure of all the others is either between the two lobbies or one lobby on one floor, the other on two floors.
25. **FLANDERS & ZIMMERMAN**
A further development from the Tacoma Building (# 6) toward the clear expression of new skeleton construction, but without the influence of Sullivan. All ornament is eliminated with the exception of incongruous detail on the doorway.
26. **D. H. BURNHAM & COMPANY**
**RELIANCE BUILDING**, southwest corner of State and Washington Streets, Chicago. 1894.
The last building of the type of the Tacoma Building (#6). The wide fenestration provides better lighting than the great majority of present day office buildings.
27. **RICHARD E. SCHMIDT**
**NEPEENAUK BUILDING**, 63 East Adams Street, Chicago. 1903.
A fine example of the work done by the younger men who, under Sullivan's influence, constituted the Chicago School.
28. **ADLER & SULLIVAN**
**CHARNLEY HOUSE**, 1365 Astor Street, Chicago. 1892.
This is the finest of the few houses built by Sullivan. A large part of the design is due to the young Frank Lloyd Wright, then in charge of all the domestic work done in Sullivan's office. Without the stimulus and discipline of the new skeleton construction Sullivan's style was characterized chiefly by simple dignity and a new grammar of ornament. His domestic building was distinguished, but not as significant as his skyscrapers.
A further development from the Tacoma building (e) co-was the open expression of new skeleton construction without the influence of Sullivan. All ornament is eliminated with the exception of inscriptions carried on the façade.
D. H. Burnham & Co.,
RETAILER BUILDING, southwest corner of State and Wabash, Chicago. 1895.
The last building of the type of the Tacoma building can be the greatest monument or measure of progress in office architecture.
RICHARD H. SCHMIDT
INTERMEDIATE BUILDING, 63 East Adams Street, Chicago. 1903.
A fine example of the work done by the younger men who were Sullivan's influence, contrasting the Chicago School.
ADLER & SULLIVAN,
CHAMBERY HOUSE, 1533 Wacker Street, Chicago. 1893.
This is the product of the few houses built by Sullivan. A large part of his genius is due to the keen trend toward originality. Without the stimulus and great influence of the new skeleton construction Sullivan's work was characterized chiefly by simple clarity, and a new arrangement of ornament. His decorative quality was given to the new arrangement. His decorative quality was given to his inspiration, not in itself significant as his experiences.
29. GEORGE MAHER
FATTEN HOUSE, 1426 Ridge Avenue, Evanston, Illinois. 1902.
A house by a member of the Chicago School which followed
Sullivan's artistic leadership. The houses of this group,
although they introduced few innovations, established a
standard in non-traditional domestic architecture by
their simplicity and dignity and by their careful use of
materials and detail.
30. RICHARD E. SCHMIDT, GARDEN & MARTIN
SEELZ, SCHWAB & CO., northwest corner of Kingsbury and
Superior Streets, Chicago. 1907.
This factory has real architectural quality based only
on the character of the ferro-concrete structure. At
this early date a factory at once so simple and so well
studied in its proportions was a rarity in America.
31. RICHARD E. SCHMIDT, GARDEN & MARTIN
HUMBOLDT PARK PAVILION, Chicago. 1908.
The use of the style of the Chicago School in a decorat-
tive public building indicates the extent of the ac-
ceptance of non-traditional architecture at the opening
of the century.
32. DWIGHT H. PERKINS
CARL SCHURZ HIGH SCHOOL, 3601 Milwaukee Avenue,
Chicago. 1910.
This building owes little specifically to Sullivan. But
it indicates the ability of the members of the Chicago
School to find a new type of design for new problems.
A house by a member of the Chicago School, which followed Sullivan's artistic leadership. The house of this group, although each introducing few innovations, established a similarity and a real effectiveness of their simplicity and ability in their careful use of materials and detail.
RICHARD E. SCHMIDT, Garden & Martin
30 South Michigan Avenue, Chicago, 1909.
This lesson was least architectural quantity passed only on the edges of the latest concrete structures. At this early date a section of once so simple and so well studied in the proportions was a reality in America.
RICHARD E. SCHMIDT, Garden & Martin
Humbolt Park Pavilion, Chicago, 1909.
The use of the style of the Chicago School in a grammar school and the effect of the use of this particular combination introduces the opening of non-traditional experience of the beginning of the century.
Dwight H. Perkins
Carl Schurz High School, 3076 Milwaukee Avenue, Chicago, 1910.
The pupil's own life specifically to Sullivan and it introduces the ability of the members of the Chicago School to find a new type of gesture for new problems.
Especially in such a school is the superiority of their inventions over the archaeology of the stylistic revivalists clear.
33. FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT
WINGLOW HOUSE, Lake Street, River Forest, Illinois, 1892-93.
This, Wright's earliest important independent building, shows him still a disciple of Sullivan. Early in the 1900's he set out on new paths independent of the general Chicago School. Leaving the field of commercial building, he created a new domestic style which was to affect the course of modern architecture profoundly.
especially in such a school as the University of Ili-
inois over the supervision of the university le-
gislators.
FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT
WISCONSIN HOUSE, LAKE STREET, RIVER FOREST, ILLINOIS
1886-68
This Wright's effort to create important independ-ent
building that will still a disciple of Sullivan. Early in the
1890's he set out on new paths independent of the En-
lightenment of Chicago School. Learning the truth of commerce
and building, he created a new house, a style which now to
reflect the course of modern architectural progress. |
1992
A Study of Ferruccio Busoni's Transcriptions of Six Organ Chorale Preludes by Johannes Brahms.
Carmen Scialla
Louisiana State University and Agricultural & Mechanical College
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_disstheses
Recommended Citation
https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_disstheses/5465
This Dissertation is brought to you for free and open access by the Graduate School at LSU Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in LSU Historical Dissertations and Theses by an authorized administrator of LSU Digital Commons. For more information, please contact gradetd@lsu.edu.
INFORMATION TO USERS
This manuscript has been reproduced from the microfilm master. UMI films the text directly from the original or copy submitted. Thus, some thesis and dissertation copies are in typewriter face, while others may be from any type of computer printer.
The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. Broken or indistinct print, colored or poor quality illustrations and photographs, print bleedthrough, substandard margins, and improper alignment can adversely affect reproduction.
In the unlikely event that the author did not send UMI a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if unauthorized copyright material had to be removed, a note will indicate the deletion.
Oversize materials (e.g., maps, drawings, charts) are reproduced by sectioning the original, beginning at the upper left-hand corner and continuing from left to right in equal sections with small overlaps. Each original is also photographed in one exposure and is included in reduced form at the back of the book.
Photographs included in the original manuscript have been reproduced xerographically in this copy. Higher quality 6" x 9" black and white photographic prints are available for any photographs or illustrations appearing in this copy for an additional charge. Contact UMI directly to order.
A study of Ferruccio Busoni's transcriptions of six organ chorale preludes by Johannes Brahms
Scialla, Carmen, D.M.A.
The Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical Col., 1992
A STUDY OF FERRUCCIO BUSONI'S TRANSCRIPTIONS OF SIX ORGAN CHORALE PRELUDES BY JOHANNES BRAHMS
A Monograph
Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of the Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical College in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Musical Arts
in
The School of Music
by
Carmen Scialla
B.M., State University of New York at Fredonia, 1982
M.M., The Eastman School of Music, 1984
December 1992
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to express sincere gratitude to my major professor and piano teacher, Alumni Professor Jack Guerry for his generous devotion of time, knowledge, and insight in the direction of this project. His scholarship, keen observation, humor, and genuine concern have made the preparation of this monograph as well as my experience at Louisiana State University most memorable. Also, I wish to extend my appreciation to Dr. David Smyth and Dr. Wallace Mckenzie for their special assistance, and to professors Herndon Spillman, Milton Hallman, and Michael Bowman for agreeing to serve on my committee. Finally, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to my wife Ning for her constant support and steadfast patience, which are, and have always been, a great source of strength and inspiration for me.
# TABLE OF CONTENTS
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Section</th>
<th>Page</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>ACKNOWLEDGMENTS</td>
<td>ii</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ABSTRACT</td>
<td>iv</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Chapter</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1 INTRODUCTION</td>
<td>1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2 A DISCUSSION OF OP. 122, NOS. 4, 5, AND 10</td>
<td>9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Herzlich tut mich erfreuen</td>
<td>9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Schmücke dich o liebe Seele</td>
<td>22</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Herzlich tut mich verlangen</td>
<td>29</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3 A DISCUSSION OF OP. 122, NOS. 8, 9, AND 11</td>
<td>36</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Es ist ein Ros' entsprungen</td>
<td>36</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Herzlich tut mich verlangen</td>
<td>41</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>O Welt, ich muss dich lassen</td>
<td>48</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4 SUMMARY</td>
<td>57</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>BIBLIOGRAPHY</td>
<td>67</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>VITA</td>
<td>70</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
ABSTRACT
Ferruccio Busoni's piano arrangements of six of Brahms's Eleven Chorale Preludes, Op. 122, are among the least known of his transcriptions. Published in 1897, they have remained overshadowed by his more popular transcriptions of the organ works of Bach. Dr. Maurice Hinson has stated that "Busoni arranged some of the most pianistic of the set"; continuing, Hinson observed that problems encountered in the originals, such as bringing out inner voices and achieving a satisfactory legato, are more easily solved on the piano than on the organ.¹
Referring to Busoni's own writings on transcribing as found in the appendices to his edition of Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier, this monograph examines Busoni's transcriptions of six organ chorale preludes by Brahms, focusing on:
1) the adaptation of a work written for two manuals and pedals to the single keyboard of the piano, considering:
a) organ pedals
b) doubling
c) dynamics
2) the pianistic treatment of organ registration, concerning:
a) texture
b) voicing
c) use of piano pedals
The study of these arrangements reveals that there are certain devices which Busoni consistently applies to achieve the organ effect while attempting to remedy the problems encountered in the transcription process.
The six chorale preludes that Busoni chose to arrange can be divided into two types: Three of the settings have a contrapuntal texture and a constantly moving accompaniment—these are discussed in Chapter Two, following a brief introductory chapter; the remaining three are homophonic in texture and are discussed in Chapter Three. Chapter Four summarizes the observations made in Chapters Two and Three and includes information derived from Busoni's writings about the process of transcribing organ works for the piano.
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
Known in his lifetime as a virtuoso pianist, composer, and author of several essays about music, Ferruccio Busoni (1866-1924) is also responsible for a large number of piano transcriptions. They are based mainly on the organ works of Johann Sebastian Bach, whose keyboard literature Busoni thought of as "the alpha of pianoforte composition." Busoni wrote extensively about the art of transcribing in his edition of Bach's *Well-Tempered Clavichord*, published in 1894. This work has four appendices, two of which deal exclusively with the art of transcribing and contain numerous examples of various transcription
---
1Busoni does not differentiate between the terms "transcription" and "arrangement" when referring to this genre in his own writings. Therefore the terms will be used interchangeably in this document.
2These can be found in *Bearbeitung, Übertragen, Studien und Kompositionen für das Pianoforte nach Johann Sebastian Bach von Ferruccio Busoni volständige und vervollkommnete Ausgabe.* (Leipzig: Breitkopf und Härtel, 1920).
techniques. Busoni's reasons for including such writings
in *The Well-Tempered Clavichord* are found in the
Introduction to the same edition, where he writes:
> The present work is also intended as a connecting link
> between the editor's earlier edition . . . of Bach's
> Inventions, forming on the one hand a **preparatory**
> school, and his concert-editions of Bach's **Organ-
> fugues** in D and E flat, and **Violin-Chaconne**, which
> will serve, on the other hand, as a close to the
> course herein proposed.\(^5\)
Though the appendices deal mainly with the organ works
of Bach, most of the topics discussed (doubling,
registration, additions, omissions, use of the piano
pedals, etc.) apply to Busoni's transcriptions of Brahms's
chorale preludes. The first appendix, which will be
referred to extensively in the summary of this monograph,
forms the basis of the conclusions discussed in chapters
two and three.
In his extensive study on Busoni, Larry Sitsky
describes him as belonging to "the already imposing list of
great creative transcribers: Bach, Beethoven, Haydn, Liszt,
Brahms, Schoenberg, Webern, Stravinsky, and Bartok."\(^6\) Of
Busoni's transcriptions as a genre, Sitsky states:
> [A transcription] is hard to justify . . . if
> judged in terms of the original, for, in a way,
> Busoni reveals a lack of respect toward it,
---
\(^5\)Ibid, ii.
\(^6\)Larry Sitsky, *Busoni and the Piano: The Works, the
Writings, and the Recordings*, (New York: Greenwood Press,
1986), 298.
Among the many and diverse works Busoni transcribed for the piano are six chorale preludes from Johannes Brahms's *Eleven Chorale Preludes*, Op. 122. These are the only works by Brahms that Busoni transcribed; surprisingly, they are relatively unknown today to concert audiences as well as performers.
According to Karl Geiringer, Brahms composed the chorale preludes shortly before his death and dedicated them in memory of Clara Schumann's death. Therefore, it is not a coincidence that the texts to most of the chorales are concerned with death and the life hereafter. Describing Brahms at the time these compositions were written, Geiringer wrote: "The composer is prepared for death and even longs for it." They are the last pieces that Brahms was ever to write, and they were published posthumously.
Brahms turned his attention to the organ in 1856 while studying counterpoint. During this time he composed his only other organ works: the *Prelude and Fugue in A Minor*.
7Ibid.
9Ibid.
10Ibid, 222.
(WoO 9), Prelude and Fugue in G Minor (WoO 10), Fugue in A-flat Minor (WoO 8), and the Chorale Prelude and Fugue on "O Traurigkeit, o Herzeliied." (WoO 7). Comparing these to the Eleven Chorale Preludes, Geiringer states:
On the whole . . . there is a characteristic difference between these works, separated as they are by forty years. In the compositions of 1896 there is an incomparably closer relationship between the set chorale and the added melodies than in the earlier compositions.11
Archibald Farmer, writing in The Musical Times, corroborates this view, stating: "... the style of the chorale preludes is quite different from the earlier works, that is, richer, finer, freer in line. . . ."12
Brahms left no indications in the organ score regarding the use of specific registration for either the earlier works or the chorale preludes. Also, most of the time only dynamic designations (forte and piano) are used to denote manual changes.13 Three of the preludes are scored for manuals only; the others, which contain an organ pedal part, do not require an advanced pedal technique.
11Ibid, 223.
As a young man, Busoni thought highly of Brahms, and dedicated *Six Etudes*, Op. 16, to him in 1883. However, this opinion seemed to change, as can be inferred from a comment Busoni made in 1904, in which he states that he was repelled by Brahms's "Germanism and 'Bequemlichkeit'--his tendency to take the line of least resistance and to avoid facing any new [musical] problem." Busoni’s opinion, though perhaps popular in the early years of the twentieth century, is certainly not widely held today. However, his latter opinion is somewhat mitigated by a statement in the epilogue to the *Bach-Busoni Gesammelte Briefe* written in 1920:
"[My father] educated me ... to be a 'German' musician and showed me a path that I have never entirely deserted, though at the same time I never cast off the Latin qualities given to me by nature."
Nevertheless, a survey of Busoni’s concert repertory reveals that he programmed very little of Brahms’s piano works throughout his extensive career as a concert pianist.
---
Despite Busoni's ambivalent opinions of Brahms, he considered the older composer's final opus worthy of attention, as he chose to arrange six of the most pianistic of the set.\(^\text{18}\)
Busoni was aware of the negative criticism brought against him regarding the practice of transcribing.\(^\text{19}\) In fact, the abundance of what he considered to be poor transcriptions prompted him to comment:
\[\ldots\] mediocrity, which is always in the majority, brought forth, during the virtuosi period, a great number of mediocre and even tasteless and distorted transcriptions. Much like this gave transcription a bad name and forced it into an altogether subordinate position.\(^\text{20}\)
And further:
Transcription occupies an important place in the literature of the piano; and looked at from a right point of view, every piano piece is the reduction of a big thought to a practical instrument. But transcription has become an independent art; no matter whether the starting point of a composition is original or unoriginal. Bach, Beethoven, Liszt, and Brahms were evidently all of the opinion that there is artistic value concealed in a pure transcription, for they all cultivated the art themselves, seriously and lovingly. In fact, the art of transcription has made it possible for the piano to take possession of the entire literature of music. Much that is inartistic, however, has got mixed up with this
\[^{18}\text{Maurice Hinson, The Pianist's guide to Transcriptions, Arrangements, and Paraphrases, (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990), 29.}\]
\[^{19}\text{Edward J. Dent, Ferruccio Busoni, 108.}\]
\[^{20}\text{Ferruccio Busoni, The Essence of Music and Other Papers, 87.}\]
branch of the art. And it was because of the cheap, superficial estimation of it made by certain men, who had to hide their nakedness with a mantle of 'being serious,' that it sank down to what was considered a low level.\(^{21}\)
Sitsky, commenting on the validity of Busoni's transcriptions, states:
> In the long run Busoni was right, not only because the art of transcription continued after him, more significantly, because his battle for the artistic freedom to do this and to reinstate the performer as a lesser dignified partner of the composer has justified itself in recent times with the aleatoric composers who demand such responsibilities.\(^{22}\)
Although Busoni's transcriptions enable pianists to explore a realm of literature that would otherwise be inaccessible to them, his arrangements of Brahms's chorale preludes have been overshadowed by his more popular transcriptions of Bach's works. The following chapters are written with the hope that they will bring more exposure to the Brahms-Busoni works, and, at the same time, that they will illuminate Busoni's style of transcribing.
The six chorale preludes Busoni chose to arrange display certain stylistic similarities, and can be classified into two types: Three of the settings have a contrapuntal texture and a constantly moving accompaniment (these are discussed in Chapter Two); the remaining three are homophonic in texture, and form the topic of Chapter
\(^{21}\)Ibid, 95.
Three. Chapter Four will summarize the observations made in Chapters Two and Three, referring frequently to Busoni's views and techniques on transcribing as found in Appendix I of his edition of Bach's *Well-Tempered Clavichord*.
Attributed to Johann Walther (1496-1570), this chorale melody is found in *Ein schöner geistlicher und christlicher neuer Bergkreyen*\(^2\) (Example 1).
---
Example 1. Chorale Melody.\(^2\)
Brahms adds an introduction and incorporates an interlude between each of the chorale's phrases, modeling his setting after the chorale motet style. This format remains unaltered by Busoni in his arrangement.
---
Brahms's four-measure introduction has been slightly altered by Busoni, who added the designations "Andante tranquillo" and "lusingando quasi carezzando" (see measure 4 in Example 2).
It can be seen in Example 2 that Busoni also adds tenuto marks over each of the stemmed melody notes.
The first phrase of the chorale tune enters on the upbeat to measure five. The following illustration (Example 3) shows how Busoni rearranges the notes of the organ setting by incorporating the accompaniment of the left hand into the right hand in order to accommodate his octave doubling in both hands. It is likely that Busoni's octaves are intended to create the effect of organ pedal which Brahms uses in his setting at this point.
Example 3. Comparison of Measures 5-8.
In addition to Brahms's designation "forte" at measure four, Busoni adds "subito forte, mit Grösse, con grandezza, sonoramente" to simulate the effect of full organ. The placement of the fifth in the bass instead of in the higher octave in the first and fourth quarter notes of measure 6 and the last quarter note of measure 7 also helps to create a richer texture. Furthermore, the melody in the right hand is stated in octaves for a fuller sound. This constant use of octaves requires the pianist to employ a substantial amount of pedal to achieve legato and a rich organ-like sonority.
Busoni frequently uses the double slash (//), as found in Example 3, measure eight, to mark the ends of phrases throughout this setting. These markings do not occur in Brahms's version. However, to interpret these slashes as being more than reminders of the original chorale's phrase lengths is not advisable, since pauses at each of these points would detract from the continuity created by the constant motion of the accompaniment.
The first interlude enters on the upbeat to measure nine and is notated differently by Busoni, who utilizes both staves as opposed to the bass staff alone as used by Brahms (see Example 4.) Busoni's two-handed scoring of this passage offers a more practical means of execution and facilitates legato playing, since each melody note can be held until the next one is struck with the other hand.
Brahms:
Busoni: (Andante tranquillo)
Example 4. Comparison of Measures 9-12.
The second phrase of the chorale enters on the upbeat to measure thirteen, and again, Busoni redistributes the notes to accommodate octaves in both hands, as can be seen in Example 5.
Brahms:
Busoni:
Example 5. Comparison of Measures 13-16.
As in the first phrase, Busoni adds a fifth to the bass octave to create the effect of the organ pedal. It can be noted at this point that the fifth within the lower octave is a device that Busoni uses frequently in this piece whenever an organ pedal entrance occurs.
The next four-measure interlude enters on the upbeat to bar seventeen and is unaltered by Busoni except for the addition of dynamic markings to each layer of the texture, as shown in Example 6:
If followed, these markings enable the melody to be heard clearly through the surrounding accompaniment. For instance, the lower system is marked "piano" while the upper system (in which certain notes create canonic imitation at the octave with the chorale melody) is marked "pianissimo." This is because the leading melody, which is embedded in the figuration of the left hand, must project through the two surrounding layers of accompaniment if it is to be audible. Busoni also adds the instruction "la mano sinistra meno piano" to reinforce his concept of balance within this interlude.
The next phrase of the chorale begins with the upbeat to measure twenty-one. In the following illustration (Example 7), it can be seen that Busoni maintains the same principles of note redistribution, octave doubling, and added fifths, occurring in previous phrases marked "forte."
Brahms:
Busoni: (Andante tranquillo)
Example 7. Comparison of Measures 21-24
In an attempt to create a contrast in volume between the serene interlude beginning at measure seventeen and this new phrase marked "forte," the pianist should refrain from using a much fuller sonority than has been used thus far; maximum volume should be reserved for the conclusion of this piece, where, as will be seen, Busoni's designations call for a continual build-up of sound.
The final interlude, beginning in the middle of measure twenty-four, is in contrast to the style of writing dominating the piece thus far, as can be seen in the simple sequential movement of its three-voice texture (see Example 8). Marked "piano" and containing an "una corda" designation, this passage is the quietest in the piece, preparing for the final climactic phrase.
Example 8. Comparison of Measures 24-27.
For the first time in Busoni's setting, at measure twenty-eight, a "forte" designation is placed below, as well as in between, the staves (see Example 9). A comparison with the organ score at this point reveals only one "forte" designation between the staves. This does not imply that the left hand octaves in Busoni's arrangement are to be played with the same amount of tone as the material in the right hand. If a performer attempts to achieve the same "forte" level in the right as well as the left hand, the latter will immediately overpower the melody. Yet, it is safe to assume that the presence of this designation, and its new placement, implies a fuller tone than has been used thus far.
Busoni's desire for a continually increasing sonority can be discerned from other factors as well. For instance, he thickens the sonority not only with the addition of octaves in the bass but also with optional notes in small print (which are not found in Brahms's version). These notes are bracketed in Example 9. Busoni also supplies the designations "breiter und steigernd bis Schluss" and the Italian translation "allargando e sempre più impetuoso fin' al fine" at measure thirty to reinforce the growing dynamic level.
\[2^5\text{For Busoni's comments on optional notes, also found in Op. 122, nos. 5 and 9, see Chapter 4, p. 61.}\]
In spite of the build-up of volume, the intensification of mood created by added notes, and Busoni's instructions, a lengthy ritardando is not appropriate since there is no such instruction in the score. One reason for this may be that Brahms did not include one in the organ version. Another reason can be gleaned from the following statement: "He [Busoni] was entirely without the 'Kitsch' of so many of the romantic Chopinists; without the big rubatos, accelerandos,
diminuendos, and sentimentality." Busoni's attempt to reinforce the final note of the chorale melody with a tenuto designation seems fruitless as it decays shortly after it is struck. However, the listener may perceive this note as sustaining through its entire duration due to the strong resolution of the final cadence. The sostenuto pedal may be used to help sustain the final note of the chorale, freeing the right hand to execute the remainder of the accompaniment in the last two measures.
Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele
Op. 122, No. 5
Composed in 1694 by Johann Crüger (1598-1662), this chorale was published in his collection, Praxis Pietatis Melica (see Example 10).
In his setting, Brahms did not include an introduction or interludes as he did in Op. 122, no. 4, Herzlich tut mich erfreuen, nor did he write a part for organ pedals. A significant difference between the Brahms and Busoni versions is Busoni's addition of octaves in the left hand
---
almost throughout his entire setting, thereby creating a much thicker texture than Brahms's.
Example 10. Crüger.28
Example 11 shows how Brahms shortens the values of the first two notes of the chorale tune in the opening phrase, establishing a harmonic rhythm based on the quarter-note pulse. It can be noted at this point that Brahms consistently shortens the first two notes of each main phrase throughout the entire piece. He also demarcates the smaller units of the main phrase with a fermata, whereas Busoni's version contains no such markings.
28 Example 10 found in George S. Bozarth, Brahms Werke für Orgel, 40.
As seen in the following illustration (Example 12), there are numerous designations in the opening phrase of Busoni's version; Brahms's setting opens simply with "piano dolce."
Example 12. Busoni: Measures 1-4
With the exception of Busoni's instruction "Andante, quasi adagio," which pertains to tempo, all of the other directions involve dynamics and articulation and are assigned to a particular voice. The specific placement of these designations reveals that Busoni had a textural balance in mind within this first phrase. For instance, the chorale tune, which is intended to be heard above the other parts, is stated in octaves and reinforced with tenuto marks. Busoni's designations, if followed, enable the melody to be heard clearly through the texture of the accompaniment.
In the repeat of the first phrase (see Example 13) Busoni reduces the texture by eliminating the octaves.
A less resonant sound seems to be Busoni's intention at this point, as can be seen in his instructions "senza pedale" and "con sordini." The smaller notes that appear in the right hand in beats one and two of measure eight originally occur only in the left hand in Brahms's version and are probably optional, since Busoni has eliminated octaves in this phrase.
The second phrase of the chorale enters on the third beat of measure ten. Busoni's return to a fuller texture is apparent in Example 14, where he restores the octaves in both hands and adds the designation "meno piano."
A more resonant sonority is created through the use of the damper pedal which, in this case, is actually specified by Busoni (note the "con pedale" in Example 14). The repeat of this phrase is usually played on a different manual by organists to achieve a softer dynamic level. Busoni's treatment of this entire section is modeled on the same principle, as can be seen in the sudden omission of octaves and the designation "più dolce" in measure thirteen.
The final phrase begins on beat three of measure fifteen where Busoni restores the fuller texture with the
addition of octaves in the right hand and the designation "meno piano e sostenuto" (Example 15).
Busoni further thickens the texture with the insertion of a fifth between the octaves of the left hand in the second half of beats three and four of measure twenty and in the final chord as well.
Herzlich tut mich verlangen
Op. 122, No. 10
Composed in 1601 by Hans Leo Hassler, this chorale can be found in the collection entitled Harmoniae Sacre (Example 16).
Brahms opens his setting with an introduction and incorporates interludes between the chorale's main phrases. Unlike the chorale motet treatment noted in Op. 122, no. 4 (see p. 9), Brahms employs the cantus firmus style in
30Example 16 found in George S. Bozarth, Brahms Werke für Orgel, 48.
Herzlich tut mich verlangen. As in the previous two chorale preludes (Opp. 122, nos. 4 and 5), the accompaniment is in constant motion throughout the entire piece. There is, however, one major difference between this chorale prelude and the previous two: the chorale melody, as will be seen in Example 18, is now given to the organ pedal.
Busoni adds the designation "Andante tranquillo" at the opening of his arrangement. Example 17 shows how Busoni scores the two-measure introduction differently in his effort to adapt it to the piano.
Brahms:
The first phrase of the chorale enters on the last beat of measure two; Busoni indicates it by adding tenuto markings. In the following illustration (see measures three and four in Example 18), it can be seen how Busoni assigns the left hand sixteenth-note accompaniment in Brahms's setting to the right hand to free the left-hand thumb so that it can play the melody.
The following interlude is altered only slightly by Busoni where a sixteenth-note rest on the first beat of measure six in the upper staff replaces the E in Brahms's version, as seen in Example 19.
Example 18. Comparison of Measures 3 and 4.
It is impossible to know for certain why Busoni inserted this rest, although, he may have intended to thin the texture of this particular chord so that the note A (which is the resolution of the first phrase of the chorale melody) could be more clearly audible. This reason is supported by the fact that the use of separate manuals on the organ results in a clear texture as opposed to the thick sonority created on the piano in this register by a closed-position chord like this one. The rest also frees the right hand, enabling it to voice the final note of the phrase.
Nothing is changed in the repeat of the first phrase of the chorale in either setting. However, in the interlude that follows, Brahms and Busoni choose different meters (see Example 20). It is inexplicable why Brahms chose alla breve, for it implies, if literally interpreted, shortening the note values by half. This would destroy the steady flow of the accompaniment, a chief characteristic of this setting. Busoni's use of common time remedies this problem. Busoni also adds several designations to this phrase, one of which ("molto dolce") appears three times -- twice in measure thirteen and once in measure fourteen. His attempt at a "sweeter" sound can also be seen in the addition of octaves in the uppermost voice, filled in either with a third or a sixth beginning at the upbeat to measure fourteen.
As the phrase comes to a close with the chromatic descent at measure sixteen, Busoni thickens the texture by doubling the two upper voices an octave higher (Example 21). Busoni's consistent addition of notes in the higher register throughout this entire phrase creates a texture that is not present in Brahms's version. Busoni discontinues the added notes in the last phrase, altering only the final chord, to which he adds a root and a fifth below.
Brahms:
Busoni:
Example 21. Comparison of Measure 16.
CHAPTER 3
A DISCUSSION OF OP. 122, NOS. 8, 9, AND 11
Es ist ein Ros' entsprungen
Op. 122, No. 8
Originally written by an anonymous composer, this chorale was later harmonized by Michael Praetorius. It is found in volume six of his collection entitled Musae Sioniae \(^{31}\) (Example 21).
Example 21. Chorale Melody\(^{32}\)
Brahms alters the original tune to the point that it is barely recognizable, a procedure that is unlike his treatment of the melody in the other chorale preludes. The entire setting is scored for manuals only. Busoni's version begins with a brief introduction marked ad libitum, and contains the added designation "espressivo" (Example 22).
\(^{32}\) Example 21 found in George S. Bozarth, Brahms Werke für Orgel (München: G. Henle Verlag, 1988), 46.
Example 22. Comparison of Measures 1-4.
Except for Busoni's addition of the designation "espressivo," there is no difference between the first phrase of the two settings. However, due to a manual change occurring in the organ score (see Example 23, measure four), Busoni varies the repeat of this phrase with the addition of octaves in the right hand and adds the designations "pp" and "cantabile." The latter applies to the chorale melody in the tenor voice, which requires considerable voicing by the pianist in order for that voice to be heard.
Brahms:
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
\[\text{Music notation image}\]
Example 23. Comparison of Measures 5-8.
The second phrase of the chorale enters on the upbeat to measure nine, where Busoni adds "meno piano" to achieve the effect of the manual change used by Brahms at this point (Example 24).
Brahms:
Busoni: (Andantino)
The repeat of the second phrase begins on the upbeat to measure fifteen where Brahms designates "Manual II." Busoni creates contrast at this point by adding the upper octave in the right hand (see Example 25) and including the marking "cantabile"; this is similar to the first phrase where a contrasting manual was specified by Brahms. The octaves are discontinued beginning at the down beat of measure nineteen. The piece continues to the end without any significant differences between the two settings.
**Herzlich tut mich verlangen**
*Op. 122, No. 9*
In contrast to Brahms's previous setting of this chorale (Op. 122 no. 10), discussed in Chapter Two, this version is more vigorous in character due to the composer's use of a repeated bass sequence (found in the pedal part) that emphasizes the weak beats, the $4/4$ meter as opposed to the flowing $6/4$ of the previous setting, and the "forte" marking at the very opening. Though manual changes are not
indicated, they are implied by the presence of the dynamic markings "forte" and "piano" throughout the setting.\textsuperscript{34}
Another significant difference between the two settings is Brahms's use of different meters. For instance, here the first phrase and its repeat are in common time; in Op. 122, no. 10, this section was in $6\frac{3}{4}$. The same is true of the second phrase, which in this setting is in $6\frac{1}{8}$, while \textit{alla breve} was used in the previous version.
The chorale melody, which is highly ornamented in this setting, is given to the upper voice rather than to the organ pedals, as it was in Op. 122, no. 10.
Because of Brahms's use of an organ pedal part (which Busoni incorporates into the left hand), much of the material Brahms wrote for the left hand is scored for the right hand by Busoni (see brackets in Example 26).
\textsuperscript{34} Miller, "The Brahms Chorale Preludes: Master Lessons," 46.
Befitting the decisive character of Brahms's setting, Busoni's opens with the designation "Moderato deciso." Although Busoni does not supply any dynamic markings until the entrance of the second phrase of the chorale, the statement of both the chorale melody and bass part in octaves and the use of accents imply full tone at the opening; even so, one must allow for crescendi in measures two and four.
Busoni articulates the bass sequence differently than Brahms, as can be seen by his use of staccato and tenuto marks in the left hand chords beginning at measure three (see Example 26). The reason for this may be to prevent the slurring of these two-note figures. Example 27 shows how Busoni incorporates accents (') in what seems to be an effort to emphasize further the detached articulation of the bass part in the repeat of the first phrase.
Brahms:
The second phrase of the chorale enters on the upbeat to measure nine where the meter changes to \(6/8\). At this point a thinner texture is introduced by Brahms through a manual change implied by the designation "piano" and his elimination of the pedal part. Example 28 shows how Busoni doubles the melody in the higher octave and adds the designation "piano dolce" in an effort to emulate the textural contrast. There are also several optional notes in measure nine of Busoni's version.
Brahms:
Example 28. Comparison of Measures 9-12.
The final phrase of the chorale enters on the upbeat to measure thirteen where the \( \frac{4}{4} \) meter signature is reinstated. Busoni adds a brief coda (marked ad libitum) based on the sequential extension of the final measure, as can be seen in Example 29:
If the performer incorporates the upper E of the left hand into the right hand, and the lower C-sharp of the right hand into the left hand, the final chord does not have to be broken. The low G-sharp found in the last measure of the coda is not standard on many modern pianos.
O Welt, ich muss dich lassen
Op. 122 No. 11
This melody (see Example 30), attributed to Heinrich Isaac (1450-1517), was originally entitled Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen and is located in Ein Teutscher Liedlein. Popular as a contrafactum melody for nearly four centuries, it also was given the title O Welt, ich muss dich lassen in the 16th century (perhaps by Johann Hess).
Example 30. Isaac
---
37Example 30 found in George Bozarth, Brahms Werke für Orgel, 54.
Brahms's setting has been referred to as the composer's final musical will and testament. It was his last composition. Example 31 shows how Brahms incorporates a double-echo effect by repeating the last three notes of the phrase, each time at a softer dynamic level and eliminating the pedal part altogether.
To achieve the various levels of contrast, Brahms calls for three manuals (or two manuals, one of which will be used for two dynamic settings). Due to the frequent manual changes required to create the intended echo effects, a strict tempo is impractical. In fact, Miller's statement regarding this matter is appropriate in describing its character: "Time, for Brahms, has with this last composition ceased its hurry and its very meaning."
---
39 Ibid, 47.
In addition to the designation "forte ma dolce," Busoni adds numerous instructions at the opening in both German and Italian, implying the use of a full, resonant tone (see Example 32). To this end he adds octaves to the melody and the accompaniment. To create the echo effect, Busoni sets off the first echo with double slashes (\\), marking it "piano" and "senza pedale." The second echo follows, marked "pp" and "una corda" to further soften the tone. Also, the echo statements are much thinner in texture than the opening phrase, as are Brahms's.
The next phrase begins on the upbeat to measure five and is marked "forte" by Brahms. Busoni merely inserts the instruction "come prima" and adds tenuto markings to the melody (see Example 33). The echo statements are treated in the same manner as they were in the previous phrase.
Brahms:
Example 33. Comparison of Measures 5-8.
Busoni:
In Busoni's version, the next phrase enters on the upbeat to measure nine and terminates with the designation "poco ritenuto" and a fermata placed over the double slashes (Example 34). There are no such markings in the organ score.
Brahms:
Busoni:
Example 34. Measures 9-12.
Another difference between the two versions occurs in the next phrase where "forte" is found in Brahms's setting but not in Busoni's. However, Busoni inserts a "forte" later in this phrase on the third beat of measure fourteen (see Example 35).
Example 35. Measures 12-17.
Rather than indicating "piano" in the following echo statement, Busoni uses "dolce" and "restez," the latter implying a pause. It is clear that he wanted a longer pause between the two echo statements.
The next phrase begins on the upbeat to measure eighteen where a "forte" designation is present in both versions; Busoni once again reverts to the thicker texture. Example 36 shows different phrasing used by each composer at the end of measures nineteen and twenty; Brahms extends each phrase into the following measure while Busoni terminates them at the bar-line. Furthermore, Busoni emphasizes the break between the two phrases with a double-slash (\/) in measure twenty. Unlike Brahms's overlapping phrases, Busoni's phrasing results in the lack of continuity in this section.
Example 36. Comparison of Measures 18-22.
The instructions "steigernd," "sempre più impetuoso," and "forte" are placed at the beginning of the final phrase of the chorale in Busoni's setting; Brahms uses only "forte." As seen in Example 37, Busoni once more doubles the melody and much of the accompaniment in octaves, this time reinforcing the character of the phrase with the instruction "pesante e sostenuto."
Brahms:
![Brahms's music notation]
Busoni:
![Busoni's music notation]
The final four measures make up a coda (see Example 38). The frequent occurrence of the descending two-note figures, diminishing in volume to the end, seem suggestive of the composer's final moments of life when each halting breath draws him nearer to his peaceful death. Busoni scores this section differently (note his reversal of the hands and use of two bass clefs).
Brahms:
![Brahms example]
Busoni:
![Busoni example]
Example 38. Comparison of measures 27-30
CHAPTER 4
SUMMARY
In Appendix I of his edition of Johann Sebastian Bach's *Well-Tempered Clavichord*, Volume i, Busoni writes very specifically and in detail about his practice of transcribing. The following are issues he considers to be most salient:
1. Doubling
2. Registration
3. Additions, Omissions, and Liberties
4. Use of Piano Pedals
5. Interpretation (style of playing)
All of the above issues apply to Busoni's transcriptions of Brahms's chorale preludes.
Doubling, which occurs with great frequency in all of the chorale preludes, is the chief means by which most of the intended organ effects are achieved. Busoni lists five types of doubling:
2. Simple doubling of Manual-parts
3. Doubling in the Octave of all Pedal- and Manual-parts
4. Tripling in Octaves
5. Doubling of one Manual-part, the rest remains unchanged
---
41 Ibid, 155-166.
Aside from "Tripling in Octaves," which Busoni declares to be "commonly employed only in unison passages," all of the other types of doublings are present in his arrangements of the chorales.
The preceding study of the chorale preludes reveals that Busoni employs doubling to simulate the organ pedal effect, to achieve contrasts which usually occur because of manual changes on the organ, and to obtain a full organ-like sonority.
To create the organ pedal effect, the pedal part is doubled in octaves. Concerning the registral placement of these octaves, Busoni writes:
Pedal-tones, almost without exception, are to be considered as 8-foot and 16-foot stops, i.e., as doubled in the octave below; this corresponds to the ordinary mode of writing for cello and double-bass in the orchestra. 43
Describing how these octaves should be played, he states: "In conformity with pedal-technic, the pedal-parts are to be performed in a bold non legato; a strict legato would, indeed, be wholly out of keeping." 44
This octave technique should not be confused with the pianistic, virtuoso octave style of the late nineteenth century. Gyorgy Sandor corroborates this view in his article in Music Journal: 42
42Ibid, 162.
43Ibid.
44Ibid.
When Liszt, Busoni, etc. add octaves to the original text of their... transcriptions, it is because the original instruments (organ, harpsichord) had built-in coupling devices that added octaves... Now when the performer misinterprets these octaves, and treats them like virtuoso Lisztian octaves, instead of subordinate harmonics--overtones--he falsifies the meaning of these added notes.
The use of doubling to create contrast between phrases can be seen in Op. 122, No. 8 (see Example 23, p. 39). Busoni doubles the right hand an octave higher and marks it "pianissimo" (Brahms specifies a manual change in this new phrase). The addition of the higher octave also creates a clearer texture through which the melody is more easily heard. In many instances Busoni frequently underscores the contrast by inserting the double-slash (\:\:\\), as can be seen in measure twenty-four of Example 7 on page 18.
Regarding whether to double the right hand in the higher or lower octave, Busoni writes:
The taste of the transcriber, or the requirements of the musical situation, will decide whether the octave doubling shall take place above or below. The doubling in the higher octave, however, should be regarded as the norm--imitating a 4-foot stop.
To obtain the full organ texture, such as that which is desirable in the opening of Op. 122, No. 9 (see Example 32, p. 50), Busoni employs the "Doubling in the Octave of
---
all Pedal and Manual parts. "47 This practice is the most technically demanding of all the types of doubling, because the doubled notes must be distributed between the hands. Therefore, as Busoni acknowledged, it is rarely practicable throughout.48
Registration is another means by which Busoni creates textural contrast.49 In the Appendix Busoni writes: "He [the transcriber] must compare the tone-material of the piano with that of the organ, and arrive at a compromise between the affect demanded and the means at his disposal."50 He then lists the "fundamental contrasts in organ-registers," classifying them as "simple foundation stops, mutation stops, flue-stops (Flute-work), and, reed-stops."51 And further:
The transcriber should consider whether darker or lighter, stronger or weaker, milder or sharper tone-effects are to be chosen; whether doublings are to be employed . . . [and] exactly what dynamic signs are needed.52
Registration and doubling are closely related. For example, when a contrast occurs due to a manual change in the organ score, Busoni not only incorporates the
48 Ibid.
49 Ibid, 167.
50 Ibid.
51 Ibid.
52 Ibid.
appropriate dynamic marking to simulate a change in registration, he also doubles one of the voices (see the right hand part in Example 25, measure 15, p. 41). Likewise, the return to the original texture is usually marked by the subtraction of the added octaves (see Example 25, measure 18, p. 41).
In an effort to emulate a full, organ-like sonority, Busoni will at times add notes other than octaves. In the section of the Appendix entitled Additions, Omissions, and Liberties, Busoni lists several reasons for such additions, two of which are: for cumulative effects, and, to enrich the piano-effect. The conclusion of Op. 122, No. 4 demonstrates how added notes are used to create a fuller tone while bringing the piece to a majestic close (see bracketed notes in Example 9, p. 21).
Busoni also omits notes (see Example 19, p. 32). His reasons for such omissions are as follows:
- Hiatuses in part-progressions, incomplete doublings, inexact reproduction of the position of chords, and belated or anticipated entrances, necessarily arise:--From the limited stretching capacity of the hands; or from facilitation in playing; or where there are too many parts. Frequently only a single tone is omitted, transposed into the octave, or replaced by some other harmonic interval. With careful treatment, the effect of such omissions is not very disturbing, except in the part having the theme, which part should, therefore, be spared wherever possible.
\[53\] Ibid, 169.
\[54\] Ibid, 172.
Busoni did not consider the form of a work to be sacred, and therefore unalterable. In fact, in 1917 he wrote:
I am a worshiper of form! I have remained sufficiently a Latin for that. But I demand--no! the organism demands—that every idea fashions its own form for itself; the organism—not I—revolts against having one single form for all ideas; today especially and how much more in the coming centuries.55
Alterations in form occur frequently in Busoni's transcriptions—that is, he adds or deletes sections.56 In his arrangements of the choral preludes, additions can be found in Op. 122, Nos. 8 and 9. However, it should be noted that these sections (see Example 22, p. 37 and Example 29, p. 47) are marked ad libitum. Regarding such liberties, Busoni writes:
Free arrangements are, in view of some irreconcilable diversities in the two instruments (piano and organ), not inadmissible. They may be of technical or of a formal nature: Technical, when they consist in an extension of passages, or an alteration of certain figures and rhythms; formal, when they occasion harmonic, contrapuntal, thematic, or other modifications of the musical structure.57
---
56Larry Sitsky, Ferruccio Busoni, The Works, the Writings, and the Recordings, 298.
The coda of Op. 122, No. 9 is an example of an alteration that is of a "technical nature"--it is based on the sequential material of the closing measure of the original version.
According to Busoni, the soft pedal plays an important role in registration. Its various applications are described in Busoni's Appendix under the heading Use of the Piano-pedals:
Touching the soft, or left, pedal (marked \textit{una corda} or \textit{u.c.}) let us say at the outset, that it may be used not only for the last gradations of \textit{pianissimo}, but also in \textit{mezzo forte} and all intermediate dynamic shadings. The case may even occur, that some passages are played more softly without the soft pedal than others with it. The effect intended here is not softness of tone, but the peculiar quality of tone obtained.\footnote{Ibid, 177.}
Such "peculiar quality of tone" occurs in Op. 122, No. 5 (Example 12, p. 25, and Example 13, p. 26) where, although the dynamic marking is not "pianissimo," the soft pedal is called for throughout the entire first and second phrase. Busoni designates "\textit{con sordini}" instead of the more typical "\textit{una corda}.
Busoni's discussion regarding piano pedals also refers to the use of the damper pedal as being crucial to achieving legato:
While the pedal is sometimes necessary in Bach's piano-works, it is absolutely essential in these transcribed organ-pieces. True, in the piano-works the inaudible use of the pedal is the only proper one. By this we mean the employment of the pedal for binding two successive single notes or chords. . . . Indispensable in the legato polyphonic style, its employment is also fully justifiable where the instruction 'senza pedale' is generally observed; the pedal being as it were, a substitute for a missing finger.59
The application of the damper pedal to achieve legato is essential where the use of extensive doubling makes finger legato difficult, especially for the smaller hand (Example 18, p. 32).
Busoni states that the damper pedal is also important in achieving a full organ tone:
In passages intended to imitate magnificent full-organ effects, the pedal is indispensable. The raised dampers produce no ill effects with passing- and changing-notes, and the like. Consider that the mixtures opened with the full organ contain the fifth and octave, or even the third and seventh, of every tone struck. An approximate imitation of these tone-blendings (tone-tangles) can be obtained, on the piano, only by using the pedal.60
This can be seen in the opening phrase of Op. 122, No. 11 (Example 32, p. 50) where Busoni indicates "con pedale," emphasizing further the intended resonance with the instruction "fare consonnare gli accordi profondamente" (allow the strings to resonate profoundly).
59Ibid, 176.
60Ibid.
Allied to "registration" is "touch." In the section titled Interpretation, found in the Appendix, Busoni describes the importance of "touch" as follows:
One advantage that the piano has over the organ is, the ability to render prominent (accent) one tone above the general level; and it would be foolish not to utilize this advantage where its use is musically justifiable.61
It is apparent from this statement that the term "touch" is synonymous with "voicing"—that is, emphasizing a particular line with more tone than is given to the others. One instance where this concept is applied is in Op. 122, No. 8 (see Example 23, measure 5, p. 39) where Busoni adds the designation "cantabile" above the tenor voice.
Also found in this section of the Appendix are Busoni's views on the interpretation (style of playing) of these transcribed works:
'Elegant' nuances, such as a sentimental swell of the phrases, a coquettish hastening and retarding, excessively light staccato, overflexible legato, over-employment of the pedal, and the like, are bad habits wherever they occur. . . . [But] a certain elasticity in tempo, when applied on a large scale lends to the interpretation that trait of freedom which characterizes all artistic performances. . . .62
In addition, a casual glance through the score of the arrangements reveals many instructions like "con grandezza," "dolce," "sempre piú impetuoso"—terms that pertain specifically to matters of interpretation.
---
61Ibid, 181.
62Ibid.
It is clear, then, that Busoni's discussion of the various points involved in arranging (and their relation to his transcriptions of Brahms's chorale preludes) can be of immeasurable worth to the performer. Through the transcriber's own detailed writings, the pianist is made aware of the techniques needed to perform these piecesidiomatically and effectively.
It is impossible to know if Busoni's arrangements of Brahms's chorale preludes will ever gain the same status among performers and audiences as have his transcriptions based on Bach's works. Yet their idiomatic quality and attractiveness afford the pianist the unique opportunity to explore a genre wholly representative of nineteenth-century esthetics with regards to the art of transcribing.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
I. Scores
II. Books
III. Journals and Periodicals
IV. Dictionaries
V. Unpublished Materials
VITA
Carmen Scialla was born in Plainfield, New Jersey, and began his musical training at the age of eight. He received the Bachelor of Music degree from the State University of New York at Fredonia and the Master's degree from The Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York.
At Louisiana State University Mr. Scialla studied piano with Alumni Professor Jack Guerry and held a teaching assistantship. He has performed as soloist with the LSU Symphony as winner of the annual concerto competition, and he was featured as guest soloist in a performance of Beethoven's *Fantasy for Piano, Chorus and Orchestra* on the Calvary Music Series in Summit, New Jersey. He has also performed recitals in Europe and China sponsored by the Dante Alighieri Society and Nanning Institute for the Arts. Currently, Mr. Scialla resides in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and frequently performs concerts with his wife, cellist Ning Tien in the United States as well as abroad.
DOCTORAL EXAMINATION AND DISSERTATION REPORT
Candidate: Carmen Scialla
Major Field: Music
Title of Dissertation: A STUDY OF FERRUCCIO BUSONI'S TRANSCRIPTIONS OF SIX ORGAN CHORALE PRELUDES BY JOHANNES BRAHMS
Approved:
[Signature]
Major Professor and Chairman
[Signature]
Dean of the Graduate School
EXAMINING COMMITTEE:
[Signatures]
Date of Examination:
October 21, 1992 |
CTL 4514 Project (2014-15)
Preservation and promotion of Hong Kong's Canton-decorated porcelain and Evaluation of Hong Kong policies in safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage
Instructor:
Dr. Pedith Chan
Name:
CHAU Yan Yi
KUNG Yuen Yan
LAU Sze Man
## Contents
1. Introduction and project objective ................................................................. 3
2. Background information of Canton-decorated porcelain ............................... 5
2.1 Definition ........................................................................................................... 5
2.2 History and characteristics ........................................................................... 5
3. Reasons of suggesting preserving Canton-decorated porcelain ..................... 9
3.1 The vital status of Hong Kong in the historical development of Canton-decorated porcelain ...................................................................................................................... 9
3.2 Aesthetic value of Canton-decorated porcelain ............................................. 10
3.3 Representability of Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong .................... 15
3.4 Endangered situation of the craftsmanship of producing Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong ........................................................................................................... 16
3.5 Inclusion in the 1st Intangible Cultural Heritage Inventory of Hong Kong ... 17
4. Preserving Canton-decorated porcelain as intangible culture heritage .......... 18
4.1 Evaluation on the preservation of intangible cultural heritage in Hong Kong ............................................................................................................................... 22
5. Safeguarding measures to Canton-decorated porcelain .................................. 28
5.1 Implementation of Short-term activities ...................................................... 29
5.1.1 Informative program .................................................................................. 29
5.1.2 Post-card Production ............................................................................. 31
5.1.3 Website design ......................................................................................... 34
5.2 Proposed long-term activities ......................................................................... 35
5.2.1 Exhibition .................................................................................................... 35
5.2.2 Summer Art workshop ........................................................................... 36
6. Conclusion ............................................................................................................. 37
Appendix: .................................................................................................................. 39
Appendix 1: The Production Process of Canton-decorated porcelain .............. 39
Reference: .................................................................................................................. 42
1. Introduction and project objective
People used to describe Hong Kong as a “Cultural Desert”, but now more and more citizens stand on the opposite side of this statement. They realize the extinction of local Intangible Cultural Heritage under the effect of globalization, rapid changes and urban development of their own city. The Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH in short term), including traditional techniques and knowledge of craftsmanship, oral traditions and expressions, performing arts, social practices, rituals and festive events is the essential part of shaping the characteristics and image of a city. Some non-government organizations are established to protect, preserve and promote these cultural treasures, such as Hulu Culture and The Conservancy Association Centre for Heritage (CACHe).
Canton-decorated porcelain, as one of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Hong Kong, has constructed part of the industrial history of Hong Kong. Its industry had a prosperous scene in Hong Kong during the period from 1950’s to 1980’s. However, like other traditional craftsmanship in Hong Kong, it is facing the danger of disappearance and the difficulties of inheritance. This project is developed to help promote this exquisite, sophisticated craftsmanship and draw the public attention on preserving the endangering intangible cultural heritage, as well as evaluating the effectiveness of the existing cultural policy in Hong Kong on safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage. After completing an in-depth research of Canton-decorated porcelain and studying the Intangible Cultural Heritage preservation standard set up by United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), we designed and proposed both short-term and long-term activities for promoting Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong.
The project objectives are listed as below:
1) To promote Canton-decorated porcelain which is a traditional craft in danger of disappearance in Hong Kong
2) To raise the public awareness on appreciating and preserving this kind of local traditional craft
3) To figure out possible ways to help inherit the exquisite skills of Canton-decorated porcelain and its quintessence
4) To evaluate the effectiveness of cultural policies on safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage in Hong Kong
2. Background information of Canton-decorated porcelain
2.1 Definition
Canton-decorated porcelain is a type of overglaze enamel porcelain in China which first emerged in the Kangxi period of the Qing Dynasty, matured in the late Qing period, and has over 300 years of history. The technique of producing Canton-decorated porcelain was derived from Jindezhen. As time went by, it developed its unique feature of being “clinquant and magnificent”. The products of Canton-decorated porcelain were popular among Europeans and mainly exported to western countries.¹
In a broad sense, Canton-decorated porcelain refers to a kind of overglaze enamel porcelain that the white porcelains were bought by Guangzhou merchants from Jindezhen and the enamel process was carried out in Guangzhou according to the orders from Western countries. It can be seen that the production processes of Canton-decorated porcelain are separated in locations and largely belong to processed nature.²
In a narrow sense, Canton-decorated porcelain refers to “Guangzhou Zhijin colour porcelain” (廣州織金彩瓷) that certain amount of golden pigment were applied in the enamel process to decorated edges and pattern contours.³ In this narrow sense definition, however, products in period that applied less golden pigment is overlooked, like during the initial stage and early Republic of China.
2.2 History and characteristics
Guangzhou became an important trading port after the abolishment of “sea ban” in 1685. Chinese porcelain was popular in Europe and other western countries, so some Guangzhou businessmen started to buy and transport high quality white porcelains
³ Ibid, P.5-6.
from Jingdezhen and hired Guangzhou craftsmen to add enamel according to the preferences and orders of foreign customers. It can be seen that the emergence of Canton-decorated porcelain is strongly related to its geographical location and the trading development. The earliest potteries, pigments and porcelain were all derived from Jingdezhen. Apart from ordered patterns from foreign customers, the style and skill of Canton-decorated porcelain were very similar to other porcelain types produced in Jingdezhen at that time (e.g. the enamel, polychrome, and famille rose). As the patterns and styles constantly altered to serve European market and taste, “without fixed patterns and styles” was actually the main feature of initial Canton-decorated products at that time.
During the Qianlong and Jiaqing period, there was an emergence of some Canton-decorated porcelain guilds. At the time, Canton-decorated porcelain began to develop its unique style, for example, the emergence of Guangzhou homemade pigments and the increased application of golden pigment. The application of hemp colours also largely increased because of westerners’ preference.
And in the late Qing period, Canton-decorated porcelain reached the peak of prosperity that its pigments, composition and decoration are very rich and diverse. Its unique style of being “clinquant and magnificent” were firmed and golden pigment was largely used. As time went by, in order to facilitate mass production, specific patterns, decorations and compositions were formed (e.g. curly grass pattern, floral pattern and “Medallion” structure). At that time, the style of Canton-decorated porcelain had been changed from being “stable and elegant” to be “bright and gorgeous”. Its production mode also changed from “without fixed patterns and style” to “mass production with specific patterns and styles”.
During the late Qing and early Republic of China, some literati painters organized societies and workshops to involve in the creation and production of Canton-decorated porcelain. The most representative example is the Canton Trading Commerce (廣東博物商會) which was founded by well-known artists of the
---
Lingnan School (嶺南派畫), Gao Jianfu (高劍父) and Chen Shuren (陳樹人), to produce Canton-decorated porcelains with skills and contents of Chinese literati painting. Most of those Lingnan School artists were members of a revolutionary organization – the Chinese United League. They got involved in the creation of Canton-decorated porcelain in order to revitalize and save the national industry. As porcelain was one of the most popular export products of China, they started using art to improve the production of this national craft. They functionalized art and spread revolutionary ideas by participating in the production of Canton-decorated porcelain.\(^5\)
Main subject matters of the Canton-decorated porcelain works of Lingnan School artists are bird, flowers, figures and landscapes. The type of the biscuits of their works were mostly plate that with more plane area.\(^6\) They seldom used metallic color in their works. And thus their works are “simple and elegant” (see Figure 1), which is greatly different from the well-known “clinquant and magnificent” style of Canton-decorated porcelain before. The main reason is that target customers of their works were mainly the locals but not westerners. The involvement of literati painters in Canton-decorated porcelain at that time fostered the cooperation between craftsmen and artists. On the one hand, producing Canton-decorated porcelain helped literati spread their political ideology, while provided economic income to financially struggling painters. On the other hand, the participation of Lingnan literati painter enriched the pattern and style of Canton-decorated porcelain, widened the domestic market of the industry and enhanced the artistic value of the craftsmanship. Although those Lingnan artists produced plenty of Canton-decorated works at the time, their production reduced a lot in the late Republic of China period. Therefore, the works of Lingnan literati did not become the mainstream style of Canton-decorated porcelain.\(^7\)
---
\(^5\) Wen Yan, Chen, *Research on Lingnan School painters’ involvement in Canton-decorated porcelain during the late Qing Dynasty and the early Republic period*, Master’s thesis, (Beijing: Capital Normal University, 2014), P.8-9..
\(^6\) Ibid, p.15-16.
\(^7\) Ibid, p.13-14
In 1930’s, however, the Japanese invasion and the political corruption caused many mainland craftsmen to flee to Hong Kong and Macau, and as a result, created the later flourish of Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong. The production of Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong began to be prosperous in 1950s, when there were a wide range of products and a large number of factories and workers. Yet, virtually all of the Hong Kong’s Canton-decorated porcelain producers returned to Mainland China after 1970’s due to the announcement of “reform and opening” policy. Different state-owned, private and foreign factories established in Guangzhou. Up till now, Yuet Tung China Works is the only factory left in Hong Kong which still adheres to produce hand-paint Canton-decorated porcelain. But less attention is paid to the craftsmanship in the local society that locals are not aware of this traditional craft and not many youngsters are interested in getting into the industry.
---
“Because of the Chinese Civil War from 1920’s to 1940’s, many factories in mainland china moved to Hong Kong after 1947. On the other hand, the export of porcelain products in Hong Kong soared because of the United Nation’s embargo against China after the Korean War in 1950.”
9 Ibid, P.93.
3. Reasons of suggesting preserving Canton-decorated porcelain
3.1 The vital status of Hong Kong in the historical development of Canton-decorated porcelain
Hong Kong has taken a substantial role in the historical development of Canton-decorated porcelain. It helped sustain the craftsmanship and techniques of Canton-decorated porcelain when China was undergoing the chaos of warlord, Chinese civil war, the embargo of United Nation, Cultural Revolution and the political reform during the period from 1950’s to 1970’s. These historical events brought unstable social environment of China and stroke the Canton-decorated porcelain industry severely. Nevertheless, Hong Kong’s advantageous geographical location and the comparatively stable environment had attracted plenty of craftsmen immigrating to Hong Kong. They continued their work of producing Canton-decorated porcelain in the territory.
The developments of Canton-decorated porcelain industry in Mainland China and Hong Kong are mutually influenced. As recorded in a document published by the Commerce and Industry Department of the colonial government in 1959 of Hong Kong, after the end of Chinese Civil War, the number of Hong Kong enamelware factory had increased to 22 factories “employing over five thousand workers”\(^\text{10}\). The United Nation’s embargo against China due to the outbreak of Korea War had brought both merits and demerits to the development of Hong Kong Canton-decorated porcelain industry. Thanks to the announcement of embargo, other countries turned to order products from Hong Kong instead of China, which fostered the growth of the industry. Simultaneously, the import of principal raw materials, such as borax and black plate, was under strict control.\(^\text{11}\)
\(^{10}\) Commerce and Industry Department, “Enamelware - One of Hong Kong's Oldest Industries”, *Trade Bulletin*, (Hong Kong: Commerce and Industry Department, 1959), P.169-171.
\(^{11}\) Ibid, P.169-171.
During the Cultural Revolution occurred during the period from 1960’s to 1970’s in China, the political instability had led to the serious recession in Canton-decorated porcelain industry. Concurrently, Hong Kong, as a British colony, escaped from the unstable political situation. The buyers of Chinese handicrafts from Europe and America turned to order goods from Hong Kong. Due to the strong demand for Canton-decorated porcelain in 60’s to 70’s, the development of Canton-decorated porcelain industry in Hong Kong had experienced an economic boom. Joseph Tso, the owner of Yuet Tung China Works, has written in his article in the book of *Century Evolution—Canton-decorated porcelain in Guangdong Province, Hong Kong and Macau since the nineteenth century* (世紀嬗變—十九世紀以來的省港澳廣), that there were dozens of decorative porcelain factories in Hong Kong, including Tung Fong (Porcelain and Ceramics) Limited (東方彩瓷廠) located in Kwun Tong, Yangcheng Factory (羊城彩瓷廠) in Tai Po, Stanley Factory (士丹利) etc. He believes that over thousands of people worked in decorative porcelain factories in 1960’s to 1970’s of Hong Kong.¹² When the Canton-decorated porcelain industry in Mainland China was declining under the influences of People’s Republic of China (PRC) political reform, Hong Kong provided a stable environment for the development of it and led to the continuity of Canton-decorated porcelain practice.
### 3.2 Aesthetic value of Canton-decorated porcelain
As the above part mentioned, most of the Canton-decorated porcealins were produced to export to the West during that period. Due to the abolishment of ‘sea ban’ in Kangxi period, trade resumed to the rest of the world through opening trading port in Southern China including Guangzhou. ‘Hong’ (factories) were established along the area to facilitate the transactions with foreign traders¹³. Due to the increasing demand on decorated porcelain from foreign customers and to prevent the loss during the transportation of porcelain from Jingdezhen¹⁴, some of the blank, bisque-fired, undecorated porcelains were shipped to Canton for further painting in some popular designs or in accordance to the designs commissioned by foreign customers¹⁵.
---
¹² Guangdong Folk Arts Museum, “*Century Evolution—Guangcai porcelain in Guangdong Province, Hong Kong and Macau since the nineteenth century*”. (Guangzhou: Lingnan Art Press, 2008) P.26
¹⁴ Guangdong Folk Arts Museum, “*Century Evolution—Guangcai porcelain in Guangdong Province, Hong Kong and Macau since the nineteenth century*”. (Guangzhou: Lingnan Art Press, 2008) , P.133.
¹⁵ Peter, Herbert and Nancy, Schiffer, *Chinese Export Porcelain: Standard Patterns and Forms*, 1780
Guangzhou became an important port for porcelain trade. Because of the active communications with the West, Canton-decorated porcelain gradually developed its own characteristic styles. Canton-decorated porcelain embodies a ‘chemical reaction’ of Chinese and western art and culture.
1) Fusion with Western style
Due to the opening to the West, western cultures became influential along the Eastern part of China. Porcelain trade flourished, and even the aesthetic preferences from the West penetrated into China, affecting the style of porcelains produced and painted in Guangzhou. During 18\textsuperscript{th} Century, a style of art called Rococo emerged in Europe. Its origin was in France, during the age of Louis XIV. Rococo art is an ornamental style which emphasizes in the themes of pleasure, play and eroticism, and it was commonly adopted in the decoration of architectures and interior spaces\textsuperscript{16}. The adoption of this ornamentation was later extended to the micro items such as porcelain, furniture and fabrics.
The Rococo art style can be identified by its asymmetry, curving and sinuous line, as well as its rich colour adoption\textsuperscript{17}. Since there was an increasing demand on the Chinese porcelain with copied Western shape and decorative designs from the West during 18\textsuperscript{th} Century, the craftsmen and painters would sometimes complete the porcelain decoration according to special requests from the Western traders\textsuperscript{18}. The companies and traders would send some drafts and examples for the painters to replicate.
Thus, Chinese porcelains including Canton-decorated porcelains were considered as a fusion of Eastern and Western culture. Adolf Reichwein, a renowned German scholar mentioned ‘Chinese porcelain is considered a symbol of the Rococo era porcelain because of its unique luster, hue and textural beauty’\textsuperscript{19}.
\textsuperscript{17} Ibid, P.2.
\textsuperscript{18} Litzenburg, loc.cit.
2) **Rich colours**
Canton-decorated porcelain is one of the polychrome enamels. The frequently used enamels on Canton-decorated porcelain are aquamarine, green, red, rosy red, aubergine, brown and gold. The difference between Canton-decorated porcelain and other decorated porcelain in China is that the colour pigments were said to be self-mixed by the craftsmen in Guangzhou. The pigments of Canton-decorated porcelain are blended with water while those of other technical contribution made to ceramics like *Fencai* (粉彩) are blended with oil. Therefore, the colour and patterns on Canton-decorated porcelain tend to be more glittering and translucent.
3) **Clinquant and magnificent**
The most identifiable element on Canton-decorated porcelain is that the pattern is decorated in gold. Gold pigment is also being adopted at the rim of the porcelain. It makes the picture glamorous and luxurious. The usage of golden decoration was not common until mid-19th Century. Canton-decorated porcelain was described as ‘clinquant and magnificent’.
---
21 Ibid.
4) Rich composition
Canton-decorated porcelain is one of export porcelains. Western styles like Rococo style is decorative and with rich composition. In order to cater to the foreign customers’ taste, Canton-decorated porcelain has rich composition as well which was different from those in domestic market in China. Empty space can seldom be found on its design.
During Emperors Jiaqing’s and Daoguang’s reigns in Qing dynasty, patterns on the Canton-decorated porcelain became more intense and diversified. Among the diversified patterns, Rose Canton or Rose Medallion is a common pattern on Canton-decorated porcelain. Red is used to depict Canton rose. It is relatively simple in decoration, having the central roundel or medallion and a decorative border around the rim of the piece, and bird or peony are often drawn at the centre.
Besides, Free stroke hand-painting people design with colour outline (廣州長行人物) and Black colour outline people design (設色人物) often appear on the porcelains when depicting Chinese daily lives. Free stroke hand-painting people design with colour outline, as the name says, the outline was drawn in different colours like red, blue and black while the outlines of black colour outline people design are only drawn in black.
---
Merging with the Rococo art style in the decoration of Canton-decorated porcelain, repeating natural motif can be found at the background of the whole picture, with curving and sinuous lines as decoration. With this complicated decoration, the whole composition is however able to express the theme of the picture. The main items or characters are emphasized by vivid colours or with gold border. Clear layers are shown, refine strokes and realistic drawing techniques are adopted.
5) Involvement of Lingnan School artists
As what was mentioned in the history part, during the late Qing and the early Republic of China, some famous artists of Lingnan School, like Gao Jianfu (高劍父) and Chao Shaoang(趙少昂) involved in the production of Canton-decorated porcelain in order to revitalize national industry through art. Their porcelain works, just as their paintings, often used Lingnan’s scenery and objects as themes. When compared with traditional Chinese painting, they also adopted richer colours, and painted more realistically on their works, which increased Lingnan’s regional characteristic of Canton-decorated porcelain. Lingnan School artists merged the skills of Chinese painting into porcelain painting and enamelling, enriched patterns and styles of
Canton-decorated porcelain, for example, the succinct and large area painting of themes like landscape, flowers, birds, insects and animals; and combining painting and calligraphy (See Figure 4 and 5). Porcelain works produced by Lingnan literati painters are delicate and collectible. Their participation increased artistic value of Canton-decorated porcelain and upgraded it from pure craftsmanship or commodities into works of art.
3.3 Representability of Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong
As positioned as an exported product, Canton-decorated porcelain represents “Hong Kong” in a certain extent. Although Hong Kong is considered as an international metropolis, not everyone knows this city, especially before the era of information explosion. When computers and Internet were not popular, people may build up their impression of a city or a region based on its products. In the mid-20th century, to avoid the negative influence of the United Nation’s embargo against China, factories in Hong Kong must clarify the originality of their products. Canton-decorated porcelains with trademark “decorated in Hong Kong” were exported to Europe and the United States massively. As Mr. Joseph Cho, the owner of Yuet Tung China Works, described, “Nearly every American family has a set of
Fig.5 Gao Jianseng (高劍曾), 1910, *Herd of deer round plate* (群鹿紋圓瓷板), 25.9 cm in diameter. Guangdong Museum, Guangzhou.
Fig.6 Gao Qifeng (高奇峰), 1911, *God of longevity carrying a child on the back plate* (背童壽星圖碟), 22 cm in diameter. Guangzhou Cultural Relics Store, Guangzhou.
exquisite Canton-decorated porcelain for celebration use.” Nowadays, it is still widely loved by foreigners. Various tourists from Japan, Taiwan, Europe and America visit Yuet Tung China Works frequently to purchase porcelain wares. They regard the porcelain as a specialty of Hong Kong. However, it is not well known in its birthplace. Canton-decorated industry used to have a prosperous scene in Hong Kong, but now it is gradually fading away and the craftsmanship is becoming endangered.
3.4 Endangered situation of the craftsmanship of producing Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong
Although Canton-decorated porcelain industry in Hong Kong has its splendid time, it began to decline from 1980’s and in dire straits now. The northern migration of industry and the lack of new entrants are the main cause of the present predicament of Canton-decorated porcelain industry in Hong Kong.
China adopted its “Reform and Opening-up” policy in 1978, and due to the lower land cost and mass labour, from 1980’s to 1990’s, like many industries in Hong Kong, a lot of entrepreneurs in Canton-decorated porcelain industry decided to move their factories to Mainland China. The industry of Canton-decorated porcelain in Guangzhou became flourishing again, whilst the industry in Hong Kong was going downhill. Some of the companies, such as Wah Tung China (華通陶瓷) and Wing Sing (永勝), keep their office and display room in Hong Kong and transfer their production line to the Pearl River Delta area. Some companies cannot survive in the fierce competition and forced to shut down the business or transit into other business. Chiu Kee Porcelain (超記瓷器) is one of the example. Mr Lam, the owner of Chiu Kee Porcelain, closed his factory in 1989 and left only a small store. He cooperated with a ceramic artist, Winus Lee, to turn his business into a ceramic art workshop in 2005 and offer interest class of making hand-painted porcelain. Yuet Tung China Works is the only company which still keeps and operates their factory in Hong Kong and
---
24 Hoiki, Yiu., Collection World—Porcelain Made in Hong Kong, Jockey Club Lei Yu Mun Plus (2013) accessed 19 Jan 2015, http://www.jclymplus.org/?event=%E9%A6%99%E6%B8%AF%E8%8A%BD%E9%80%A0%E9%99%86%E7%93%B7%E5%B1%95&lang=zh
produce hand-painted Canton-decorated porcelain.\textsuperscript{25}
Apart from the blow of the northern migration of Hong Kong industry, lacking young people getting into the industry is also a factor threatening the survival and inheritance of Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong. As above mentioned, Yuet Tung China Works is the only factory left in Hong Kong still producing Canton-decorated porcelain, yet there are only 6 craftsmen left in the factory and all of them are aged over 70.\textsuperscript{26} The salaries, benefits and prospects offered by the factory are difficult to compete with works of other sectors, which is hard to attract youngsters to get into the industry. For instance, some of the young people who had learned Canton-decorated porcelain in Yuet Tung China Works gave up the thought of entering the industry because of their family objection.\textsuperscript{27} In brief, Hong Kong’s Canton-decorated porcelain industry is endangering mainly due to the decline of the industry sector and the lack of new entrants.
\textbf{3.5 Inclusion in the 1st Intangible Cultural Heritage Inventory of Hong Kong}
In October 2006, the Intangible Heritage Unit of the Hong Kong Heritage Museum commissioned the South China Research Center of the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology (HKUST) to conduct a study on Intangible Cultural Heritage in Hong Kong and compile an inventory of Hong Kong’s Intangible Cultural Heritage. The inventory was disclosed to the public in June 2014. And Canton-decorated porcelain (also named as Canton-decorated porcelain or The Canton Famille Rose Porcelain) was being included in the Category-Traditional Craftsmanship.\textsuperscript{28} The inventory can be considered as an evidence that legitimates and emphasizes the importance and urgency of Canton-decorated porcelain as a traditional craftsmanship that are needed to be preserved in the territory.
\textsuperscript{26} Joseph Cho, interview by Su Yi Chau, Yuet Tung China Work, March 11, 2015.
\textsuperscript{27} Ibid.
\textsuperscript{28} First Intangible Cultural Heritage Inventory of Hong Kong, Hong Kong Heritage Museum, accessed 15 Feb 2015, \url{http://www.heritagemuseum.gov.hk/documents/2199315/2199679/first_ICH_inventory_e.pdf}.
4. Preserving Canton-decorated porcelain as intangible culture heritage
Based on the above reasons, Canton-decorated porcelain could be considered as an Intangible Cultural Heritage while its making and drawing technique needs to be preserved. This part will include the UNESCO Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage (2003) which serves as a guideline for the State Parties to carry out relative measures to preserve Intangible Cultural Heritage, as well as looking into Hong Kong’s cultural policy in safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage and evaluating its effectiveness.
When discussing intangible cultural heritage, Japan is under the spotlight regarding being a role model and pioneer in the milestone of preservation of intangible cultural heritage.
In the 1950’s, laws had been adopted in Japan for the preservation of traditional practices and ceremonies due to the fear and concern of the threat posed by the cultural dominance of the USA after World War II which may lead to the cultural homogenization and abandonment of traditional practices. Thus the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology (MEXT) of Japanese government initiated a mechanism in attempt to sustain and preserve those practices. Its programme is called the Living National Treasures, while it is officially named as ‘Preservers of Important Intangible Cultural Properties’. The talented tradition bearers and practitioners specialized in performing arts or making crafts are designated and receive a great honor from the government. Subsidies and tax concessions are received by them to support their traditional craftsmanship and artistic creation. The scheme and award intend to encourage them to sustain their endangered traditional practices by transmitting their skills and knowledge to the younger generations, and to certain extent creates new works of art.
30 Bobbie, Kalma, Japan the Culture. (Crabtree Publishing Company, 2009) P.11
The Republic of Korea followed the practice in 1964 after the establishment of the Living National Treasures in Japan and named it ‘intangible cultural asset’. Similar as in Japan, the authority mapped out the scheme and aimed at providing financial and other supports to individuals designated as possessors, training individuals in order to succeed the traditional skills, and providing chances for public showcases.31
In 1993, South Korea proposed to UNESCO Executive Board, calling for the need of setting up a UNESCO “Living Human Treasures” programme. After several meetings and discussions, UNESCO gradually built up a well-structured system of safeguarding intangible cultural heritage - a Living Human Treasure system. The Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of UNESCO was adopted in 2003.
Definition of Intangible Cultural Heritage
The Article 2 of the Convention of UNESCO has a clear and explicit definition of Intangible Cultural Heritage:
“…practices, knowledge, representations, expressions and skills (as well as instrument, objects, cultural spaces and artefacts) that communities, groups, and in some cases individuals recognize as their cultural heritage. This intangible cultural heritage transmitted from generation to generation, is constantly recreated and modified by communities in response to their interaction with their environment and history, and provides them a sense of identity and continuity.”(Article 2.1)32
In the meanwhile, intangible cultural heritage is manifested especially in the domains of (Article 2.2)33:
31 Judy V., Zile, Perspectives on Korean Dance. (America: Wesleyan University Press, 2001), P.54
33 ibid.
(a) Oral traditions and expressions, including language as a vehicle of the intangible cultural heritage;
(b) Performing arts;
(c) Social practices, rituals and festive events;
(d) Knowledge and practices concerning nature and the universe;
(e) Traditional craftsmanship.
UNESCO serves as the leading institution to raise international awareness of the existence and preservation of intangible cultural heritage, has provided a clear and universally acknowledged definition.
**Safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage**
As the convention in UNESCO mentioned, safeguarding of intangible cultural heritage means:
“measures aimed at ensuring the viability of the intangible cultural heritage, including the identification, documentation, research, preservation, protection, promotion, enhancement, transmission through formal and non-formal education, as well as the revitalization of the various aspects of such heritage.” 34(Article 2.3)
**UNESCO guidelines in safeguarding the Intangible Cultural Heritage**
UNESCO has outlined certain criteria in terms of safeguarding intangible cultural heritage on the national level. It is mentioned in ‘the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage’: Inventories (Articles12), Education, awareness-raising and capacity-building (Article14) and Participation of communities, groups and individuals (Article15).
**Inventory-making**
34 UNESCO, loc.cit.
To make inventories mean to identify elements for safeguarding and to make a list and details of intangible cultural heritage that a nation/territory urges to safeguard. UNESCO is providing enough flexibility for the state parties concerned to decide the way to prepare their own inventories. It is important for to understand ‘what is there’, ‘who does it’ and ‘why they do it’. It can help mapping out concrete safeguarding plans and UNESCO encourages the setting up of intangible cultural heritage committees in a nation to facilitate the inventory processes.
**Education, awareness-raising and capacity-building**
Both formal and informal education on ICH is needed in order to enhance public awareness and to transmit the knowledge and skills to next generations. The State Parties should develop a tailor-made system according to their own territories’ economic, demographic and social situation to transmit knowledge. It requires the support and assistance of local organizations and their government. It is essential to know how the knowledge and skills related to the element transmitted at the present. UNESCO also encourages nations to establish national systems of “Living Human Treasures” which tradition-bearers are honored and encourage them to transmit their knowledge and skills.
**Participation of communities, groups and individuals**
Participation of communities, groups and individuals, especially the tradition bearers and practitioners is always, and particularly essential since it forms part of the intangible cultural heritage. The State Parties should make sure the inventorying process, all safeguarding measures involve local communities’ participation.
**Other safeguarding measures**
Other safeguarding measures are suggested like developing scientific, technical
---
and artistic studies to provide suggestions of safeguarding ICH, establishing bodies in charge of safeguarding ICH, adopting legal, technical, administrative and financial measures to foster the training on the management of ICH and its transmission. The States Parties ought to support the implementation of the proposed safeguarding measures.
4.1 Evaluation on the preservation of intangible cultural heritage in Hong Kong
With the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage, State Parties are encouraged to carry out the necessary measures to make sure the safeguarding of the intangible cultural heritage present in its territory (Article11). Government ought to plays a crucial and leading role in conservation work of intangible cultural heritage. The People’s Republic of China ratified the Convention in 2004 and became one of the State Parties of the Convention. The concept of intangible cultural heritage developed in Hong Kong after UNESCO's adoption of the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2003 which Hong Kong followed China's accession to the convention. In this part, focus will be put on evaluating the institutional system and different government works on preserving intangible cultural heritage in Hong Kong based on UNESCO guidelines.
Institutional system:
The Home Affairs Bureau is responsible for the development of protection policy, and the Leisure and Cultural Services Department (LCSD) is responsible for the implementation of safeguarding measures. In order to comply with the requirements of the Convention to develop a list of intangible cultural heritage, the Hong Kong Heritage Museum under LCSD set up an Intangible Heritage Unit to plan the survey and compile the inventory in 2006. To facilitate policy development and promote
---
37 Tik sang, Liu, *Intangible Cultural Heritage and Local Communities in East Asia*, (Hong Kong: South China Research Center, the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology and Hong Kong Heritage Museum, 2011), P.122
38 Background brief prepared by the Legislative Council Secretariat on issues relating to the preservation of intangible cultural heritage in Hong Kong, 2012, P.1.
community participation, the Home Affairs Bureau also established the Intangible Cultural Heritage Advisory Committee (ICHAC), which composes of a number of professionals, academics, and community representatives from 2008, to provide advice related to intangible cultural heritage to the government. In brief, the institutional system of intangible cultural heritage in Hong Kong mainly composes of and is taken charge by the Intangible Cultural Heritage Advisory Committee and Hong Kong Heritage Museum’s Intangible Heritage Unit of the Home Affairs Bureau and LCSD.
Hong Kong government has indeed taken its first step on preserving Intangible Cultural Heritage. Yet, institution responsible for the conservation of intangible cultural heritage and its structure is small and scattered. There is a lack of a dedicated and independent institution for intangible cultural heritage in Hong Kong such as Antiquities and Monuments Office and the Commissioner for Heritage's Office which are dedicated to the preservation of built heritages and monuments. Establishment of an independent institution could help a long-term strategic and further planning on safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage. The decentralized institutional structure reflects that the government has not attached enough importance to the preservation of Intangible Cultural Heritage, which may hinder the comprehensive and efficient management and legislation of Intangible Cultural Heritage conservation in Hong Kong.
**Inventorying – Identification and documentation:**
According to Article 12 from the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage, a state party should draw up its regularly updated inventories of intangible cultural heritage present in its territory. In response to this requirement, as above mentioned, Hong Kong as a city follow to the convention also started to compile its inventory. The Intangible Heritage Unit of Hong Kong Heritage Museum commissioned the South China Research Centre (SCRC) of Hong Kong University of Science and Technology to conduct research and survey for compiling
---
an inventory from 2006.\(^{40}\) As there are close relations in history and culture between Hong Kong and Canton, SCRC made reference to Guangdong provincial government’s provincial list of Intangible Cultural Heritage, in the meanwhile, conducted a territory-wide survey with public reporting mechanism in order to compile the local inventory. The First Intangible Cultural Heritage Inventory of Hong Kong with total 480 inscribed items has finally disclosed to the public in June 2014.\(^{41}\) As it can be seen that Hong Kong has already drawn up its own inventory and recognized intangible cultural heritages present in the city which meets the requirement of the UNESCO.
A paper from the Panel on Home Affairs of Legislative Council reporting the territory-wide survey and inventory compilation of intangible cultural heritage in Hong Kong mentions how the government will follow up on the results. According to the paper, the government proposes to develop a regularly updated online database for both the inventory list and information gathered from the survey for public access. The inventory, in the meanwhile, are divided into major and sub-items, which provide the government with a guideline for the prioritization of resources allocation and safeguarding measures particularly for endangered and important ICH items. The government will also invite the Intangible Cultural Heritage Advisory Committee to nominate appropriate items from the inventory to apply the National List of Intangible Cultural Heritage or UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.\(^{42}\)
It can be seen from the above that the Hong Kong government has successfully compiled a local inventory of ICH in accordance with the requirement of UNESCO, which can assist the planning for future conservation programs and projects. But the worth noting point is that although almost half of the major items on the first local list (101 out of 210) belonged to the category of traditional craftsmanship, no item of craftsmanship are successfully nominated by the Hong Kong government to the National List of Intangible Cultural Heritage or the UNESCO’s Representative List of
\(^{40}\) Hing wah, Chau, Case Study of Local Heritage Studies : Cheung Chau Jiao Festival, (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Educational Bureau), P.143
\(^{41}\) Eva Man, *Hong Kong’s Cantonesse Culture*, Commercial Press (HK), Hong Kong, 2014, P.205.
the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity (Over the past few years, the Jiao-festival of Cheung Chau, the dragon boat water parade of Tai O, the Yu Lan Ghost Festival of the Hong Kong Chiu Chow Community and the fire dragon dance of Tai Hang which are within the category of Social practices, rituals and festive events have been inscribed to the National List of Intangible Cultural Heritage, while Cantonese Opera has been inscribed into the UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity). The government provides virtually no practical assistance and safeguarding measure for items those has not been inscribed on the National or UNESCO list. No actual and further plan is developed for safeguarding other items. In fact, there are a lot of craftsmanship endangered that the government need to plan and carry out related safeguarding measures as soon as possible.
**Education, awareness-raising and capacity-building –**
**Preservation, transmission and promotion:**
To effectively safeguard Intangible Cultural Heritage, according to the Article 13 of UNESCO’s convention, fostering scientific, technical and artistic studies as well as research methodologies are also required apart from establishing or designating competent bodies. In fact, the government does work in this aspect, for instance, the Hong Kong Heritage museum has conducted thematic studies on Cantonese opera and recorded its traditional repertoire. The government also commissions educational institution to conduct research on Intangible Cultural Heritage, for example, it has commissioned the Chinese University of Hong Kong to conduct an oral history research project on the Cheung Chau Jiao Festival.\(^43\)
In terms of helping the transmission and promotion of ICH, the government does assist these aspects by providing funding to ICH items. The Lord Wilson Heritage Trust was established by the government in 1992 to promote the conservation and preservation of Hong Kong’s heritages which intangible cultural heritage is included in the benefit scope. The Trust provides funding for organization and individuals to
conduct heritage-related research and activities like exhibition and publications. Hong Kong fishermen Songs, Tai O Dragon Boat Parade and Hong Kong martial arts are ICH items which benefited from the Truth’s grants. Other examples like Cantonese opera is an ICH item which receives most government funding for the support of its transmission. The Cantonese Opera Development Fund (CODF) was set up by the Home Affairs Bureau which in charge of granting for projects related to professional training, audience building, research and archive, as well as venue support of Cantonese opera. Nevertheless, the LCSD also supports and grants for about 500 Cantonese Opera performances and audience building activities each year. For promotion, apart from funding support, the Hong Kong Heritage museum has also organized international seminars, public lectures, fielded trips, workshops and exhibitions to raise the public awareness on local ICHs, especially those successfully inscribed on the National or UNESCO’s list. The Cheung Chau Jiao Festival and Tai Hang fire dragon dance are examples which the Heritage Museum held related field visits and seminars. Through the funding assisting areas (like professional training, audience building and venue support), and promotional and educational activities organized by the Heritage Museum, we can see that the government does help in transiting skills and knowledge of ICH and building public awareness on the preservation of ICH.
Although the Hong Kong government has done certain works to preserve, transmit and promote ICH, it can however only support a limited number of ICH items that many of the endangering items neglected are still need assistance for safeguarding. Some of the endangered ICHs may disappear due to incomprehensive preservation. On the other hand, there is a lack of a system like the “Living Human
Treasure” to honour and assist talented tradition bearers and practitioners, which the system could in fact relieve the most intractable problem – the inheritance problem for craftsmanship of ICH in Hong Kong.
In brief, the institutional system in Hong Kong has improve a lot when comparing to that during the British colonial period (when local heritage was suppressed by the colonial government) but the system still is not organized and clear enough to effectively manage the safeguarding works of ICH. In the meanwhile, although the government has provided different funding, training and promoting programs, it can only support limited numbers of more importance ICH because of limited resources, and to this point, other neglected items may need bottom-up support from the community. The conservation of traditional craftsmanship is especially inadequate. Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong, for example, received little support from the government is facing the threat of disappearing. Urgent assistance from both top-down and bottom-up approaches is need to save the industry.
5. Safeguarding measures to Canton-decorated porcelain
To safeguard and transmit the knowledge and skills and even recreate the elements of an Intangible Cultural Heritage concerned, involvement of community is indispensable and always relevant. Despite of the announcement of the identification of identified 480 items of intangible cultural heritage in Hong Kong, there is still a long way to go to safeguard them. More endeavours are needed to develop a comprehensive cultural policy on safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage.
In addition to the technological advancement and urbanization, threats were posed to the succession of the traditional skills of traditional Canton-decorated porcelain – technology of decal is adopted nowadays and many of the porcelains are decorated by decalcomania papers (貼花紙). Less people are willing to be apprentice since it takes at least 3 years to get familiar with the drawing skills and the income of these bearers are relatively low comparing to an ordinary job in Hong Kong. Moreover, many of the customers of Canton-decorated porcelain are from overseas such as Japan, America and European countries. Moreover, we found that nowadays in Hong Kong there are not many people know about Canton-decorated porcelain. So we refer to suggestion in the UNESCO convention, to carry out and proposed educational and awareness-raising activities both in short-term and long-term perspective. Both short-term and long-term activities are listed as followings:
5.1 Implementation of Short-term activities
5.1.1 Informative program
Background Information:
Production Date : From 25/02/2015 to 25/04/2015
Length of Video : 8.5 minutes
Production location : Hong Kong
Target age group of audience : Teenagers and young adults from 15 to 30
Target No. of audience : 10,000/first month
Objectives:
1) To accentuate the exquisite and refined traditional craftsmanship of Canton-decorated porcelain
2) To attract the young generation to learn about the aesthetic value of Canton-decorated porcelain
Promoting via videos and clips on popular social media is a salient way to access and outreach a wide range of audiences. There are numerous videos introducing Canton-decorated porcelain produced by the local mass media in recent years:
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Title</th>
<th>Producer</th>
<th>Date</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>《小事大意義－留住彩瓷美》</td>
<td>Cable TV</td>
<td>20/04/2015</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>《文化匯長河》</td>
<td>RTHK</td>
<td>11/03/2015</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>《最後澳門店 精緻彩繪滿載人情》</td>
<td>Apple Daily</td>
<td>27/03/2014</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>《一手造極》</td>
<td>TVB</td>
<td>27/01/2013</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>《陶寶樂 8：細說港陶》</td>
<td>Apple Daily</td>
<td>24/11/2012</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
After watching these videos, however, we found that each of them mostly only contain a part of the information of Canton-decorated porcelain briefly. Thus, we have produced an eight-minute informative program delineating a comprehensive picture of Canton-decorated porcelain. The informative program will introduce the history, aesthetic value, production process of Canton-decorated porcelain. Through the
interview of Mr. Joseph Cho, the owner of Yuet Tung China Works and Mr. Tam, the skilful master of Canton-decorated porcelain, who has worked for the factory for more than forty years, the program will also demonstrate the glorious status of this craftsmanship in the 20th century in Hong Kong. We also incidentally interviewed a Japanese customer who favours in Canton-decorated porcelain. Through her opinions we can perceive how the foreigners see this traditional craftsmanship.
C&CO Video, a studio which provides video production services, will take responsibility of filming the video as our partner in this project and our group is going to edit it. The video will be published on YouTube and the website designed for Yuet Tung China Works.
Video link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFxI3VNTNrg
5.1.2 Post-card Production
Background Information:
Production Date : From 25/02/2015 to 16/04/2015
Production location : Hong Kong
Quantity : 110 (55 for each design, 2 designs in 1 set) for the first production
Target age group of consumer: Teenagers and adults from 15 to 50
Objectives:
1) To attract the public’s attention on Canton-decorated porcelain
2) To promote Canton-decorated porcelain to the world as a unique craftsmanship of Hong Kong
Concept:
As a carrier of the travellers’ experiences, most of the postcards are designed with the significant features of a city, such as landmarks, historical buildings, landscapes, and etc. Canton-decorated porcelain industry is becoming a “sunset industry” due to the reduction of employment and traditional practices. Nevertheless, it had a glorious moment in the 20th century of Hong Kong. The export porcelain decorated in Canton style was one of the images of Hong Kong especially in the eyes of Americans and Europeans. Today, writing postcards is no longer a patent of travellers. Many people send postcards to friends who live in the same territory. Some people even have a habit of collecting postcards with creative and beautiful design.
To achieve the objectives mentioned above, we are planning to produce a set of postcards. Theme of the postcards will be: the scene of old master painting porcelain in Cantonese style and significant and traditional patterns of Canton-decorated porcelain.
Collaborated Artist: Waiwai (慧惠)
Graduated from the City University of Hong Kong, Waiwai is a young, Hong
Kong-based illustrator and designer. Her artworks interpret a humanistic and kind “Hong Kong” in a realistic way. In 2014, she resigned her job to start her new art project, by feeling the atmosphere and witnessing the development of “Umbrella Movement” (Hong Kong post-democratic demonstration in 2014), she recorded the demonstration by sketching and painting. In 2015, her personal exhibition “Umbrella Dairy” was held in TGT. We hope that under the young illustrators’ artistic creation, Canton-decorated porcelain doesn’t only confine to the traditional style, but from the younger generation perspective, new elements are added into it and revitalize it and this could attract young people’s attention.
Store Location:
1. TGT
Located in Mong Kok, the heart of Hong Kong with hustle and bustle of streets and shopping mall, TGT provides unique and artistic products designed by local artists and handicraftsmen. Aiming at narrowing the relationship of local art industry and the society, TGT is positioned as an upstairs art gallery and it has organized several of cultural events, including exhibitions, sharing sessions and talks.
Address: 2/F, Pak Cheung Building, 59 Shan Tung Street, Mong Kok, Kowloon
2. Be tabula rasa studio (白紙工作室)
Be tabula rasa studio comprises infinite creativity. It is owned by a young local designer and a handicraftsman. They welcome and share the space for everyone who wants to relax. Many young people gathered there to drink a cup of coffee, chatting with each other and reading books. They have collaborated with different people who work in local cultural industry to organize cultural activities, such as local artist exhibitions, film sharing sessions and handicraft fairs. It has become one of the most popular cultural hubs in Sham Shui Po.
Address: 2/F, 85 Fuk Wah Street, Sham Shui Po, Kowloon
Designs of the post-cards:
Front:
Back:
5.1.3 Website design
Background Information:
Production Date: From 10/03/2015 to 13/05/2015
Production location: Hong Kong
Platform: Wix.com
Target age group of audience: Teenagers and adults from 15 to 50
Estimated No. of audience: 1000/first month
Objectives:
1) To enhance the website design of Yuet Tung China Works.
2) To provide comprehensive information of Canton-decorated porcelain.
Yuet Tung China Works is the only factory which insists to produce hand painted Canton-decorated porcelain in Hong Kong. Thus we are planning to help preserving the craftsmanship of Canton-decorated porcelain by promoting the product of Yuet Tung China Works.
The original website of Yuet Tung China Works is simple, with less information about Canton-decorated porcelain and is designed in an antique style, which may seem less attractive to young consumers. An official website of the factory will be designed with a page for online shopping and ordering its products. Meanwhile, the knowledge and techniques of connoisseurship of Canton-decorated porcelain will also be included in the website. The website also contains a blog to share interesting news and stories of Canton-decorated porcelain. With advanced technologies, the website will be designed in a modern, elegant style. The website will not only include the information of Yuet Tung China Works. It will also be an educational tool for teaching the young generation about Canton-decorated porcelain as a living cultural heritage in Hong Kong.
Originally the website of Yuet Tung China Works is designed in English. The new website we designed for it is in bilingual language. We believe it can help reaching more local consumers as most people prefer Chinese (Traditional) as it is
5.2 Proposed long-term activities
5.2.1 Exhibition
Background Information:
- Date: 30 July 2016 – 30 August 2016 (tbc)
- Venue: K11 Art Mall
- Quantity of exhibit: 40
- Estimated No. of visitor: 5,000
- Target age group of visitor: Teenagers and adults from 15 to 50
Objectives:
1) To introduce the gorgeous hand-painting art of Canton-decorated porcelain to the public
2) To attract the public’s attention on the extinction of local intangible heritage
As a kind of exported ware, Canton-decorated porcelain is not well-known in its birthplace. Simultaneously, it is generally regarded as a daily utensils, thus its aesthetic value is occasionally neglected. We propose to organize an exhibition to showcase the sophisticated paintings of Canton-decorated porcelain, and to reveal its aesthetic value as a representable art of Lingnan region.
The exhibition will showcase 40 exhibits borrowed from Ao Qisheng (敖歧生), a collector of Canton-decorated porcelain from Guangdong province. He has been collecting Canton-decorated porcelain at any cost for 40 years. In 2004, he organized his personal exhibition of his Canton-decorated porcelain collection in Zhongshan. It was the first personal exhibition of Canton-decorated porcelain in China. Educational program will also be included. We will invite Mr. Ao, the collector and expert of...
Canton-decorated porcelain to give a talk to the public, telling the story of this regional handicraft and explaining its artistic value.
The exhibition will be held at K11 Art Mall. It is claimed as the first art mall in the world. It has spent around twenty million Hong Kong dollars acquiring and displaying artworks on each floor.
5.2.2 Summer Art workshop
Background Information:
Date: 15 July 2016 – 26 August 2016 (tbc)
Venue: The Conservancy Association Centre for Heritage (CACHe)
Estimated No. of participant: 15 people/class
Target age group of participants: Toddlers, teenagers and young adults from 10 to 35
Objectives:
1) To stimulate the creativity of participants.
2) To provide a valuable and enjoyable art experience to the participants.
3) To encourage public to learn and inherit the craft of Canton-decorated porcelain.
"Talent can’t make someone to become a master. Practice can." Mr. Tam, an experienced craftsman who has worked in Yuet Tung China Works for around 50 years, said during our chatting. We believe that, it is essential to provide a platform for public to know more about the craft of Canton-decorated porcelain as an intangible heritage and an endangering local craftsmanship. Collaborating with CACHe, this summer workshop allows public to experience the procedure of creating Canton-decorated porcelain and learn about the history, values and skills of this beautiful handicraft.
6. Conclusion
This project is an experiment of how to preserve and promote Intangible Cultural Heritage in Hong Kong as an individual or a small group with very few resources. From a bottom-up perspective, limitations have been found during the implementation of promotion activities for Canton-decorated porcelain.
First of all, we could not find any funding for the project. Although there are some funding schemes supporting the preservation of Intangible Cultural Heritage, we were not able to apply these funding due to the time limit. We tried to apply a school funding supporting the student activities. Unfortunately, it was unsuccessful and thus we had to implement the project in self-finance basis. Without the funding, the scale of our project is also limited. For instance, we could not produce more postcards or distribute it freely. We also could not afford inviting more artists to participate in the project. Therefore, the short-term activities could only be implemented which only requires a low cost. Lack of man power is also a main obstacle. The project initially had five proposed short-term activities. However, we had to amend the plans as we could not implement all of them in a tight schedule with only three people in the crew. Nowadays a lot of preservation and promotion works of Intangible Cultural Heritage in Hong Kong are done by non-government organizations or small groups formed by people who have full-time jobs. Less time is being spent on those projects. Because of this, the government ought to allocate more resources in safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage in Hong Kong.
After all, through the research of Hong Kong Intangible Cultural Heritage preservation, we think that Hong Kong Government should take a more active role in it. Supportive and incentive measures should be carried out in order to safeguard the Intangible Cultural Heritage in long-term perspective. For example, a further plan should be made after the 1st Inventory of Intangible Cultural Heritage was released. A department or unit should be established to handle the matters of Intangible Cultural Heritage, further researches and documentation on the items concerned should be made to assist in the safeguarding plan and it is responsible to investigate the items which are urgently needed to be preserved. More funding should be provided to non-government organization to organize the educational and promotional activities in
order to raise public awareness. For instance, concerning the knowledge and skills’ transmission of traditional craftsmanship, workshops can be made to offer a brief introduction and have a glance on how traditional crafts are made. As the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage mentioned, the State Parties ought to “ensure the widest possible participation of communities, groups and individuals that create, maintain and transmit intangible cultural heritage within the framework of their safeguarding activities and actively involve them in its management”\textsuperscript{49}. This is what the authorities have to do now to help preserve precious local cultures and thus build up vivid local identity.
Appendix:
Appendix 1: The Production Process of Canton-decorated porcelain
Canton-decorated porcelain is an exquisite artistry. It takes certain time to produce Canton-decorated porcelain that to make a 50cm high hand-painted Canton-decorated vase can even take up to half a year.\(^{50}\) In the meanwhile, the skill is difficult to learn that generally it would take nearly ten years of discipline for a craftsman to finish his apprenticeship and work independently.\(^{51}\) As the styles and patterns of Canton-decorated porcelain are “various and ingenious\(^{(式多奇巧)}\)”, the production processes will be different according to different types and styles. Yet, for most general case, the production processes of Canton-decorated porcelain can be divided into five parts, which are 1) selecting biscuit porcelain; 2) positioning, marking and dividing into sections; 3) sketching and outlining; 4) General colouring and filling gold and green colours; and 5) firing.
1) Selecting biscuit porcelain
Canton-decorated porcelain is a secondary processing that enamelling on white biscuits. It is important to select suitable biscuits before starting the enamelling process. Spotless white biscuits are needed to produce high quality porcelain. The selected biscuits also need to be cleaned in order to remove impurities on the surface before enamelling. In the meanwhile, there should be similar melting temperature of the selected biscuits and pigments(700-750°C). It is because that pigments can firmly adhesion on the surface of a biscuit only when the glaze on the biscuit and the pigments melted and fused together at the same time.\(^{52}\)
2) Positioning, marking and dividing into sections
Craftsmen will adopt different layout and design according to the type and shape of the wares. The designs will be drawn on papers as line drafts before applying on the biscuit wares. The medallion style (開光 Kāiguāng) is the most popular style which a shape or several shapes are drawn on the ware by decorative line and themes.
\(^{50}\) 周翠玲, 〈華南手工藝人系列之五: 滿地富貴 一地流散 — 廣彩大師和他的作品〉, 《開放時代》, 第 2 期, 2004, p.1.
\(^{52}\) He Ping, “The artistic features of Canton-decorated porcelain”, Master’s Thesis, (Jiangxi: Jingdezhen Ceramic Institute, 2009), P.22.
will be drawn inside these shapes. Craftsmen will use medallion (the shapes) to divide a ware into parts, mostly three parts, four parts or six parts, which the division is called “Kāi fú (開幅)”. This type of compositional style can highlight main themes of a work. In order to accurately apply the design on the paper draft onto a biscuit ware, craftsmen will first use black lines to position and mark on the biscuit, and then divide it into sections according to the design. Yet there are also other compositional styles, for example, scattering the pattern (e.g. flowers and butterflies) onto the whole surface of a biscuit without dividing the ware into sections like the medallion style.\textsuperscript{53}
3) Sketching and outlining
After positioning, marking and sectioning, craftsmen will then sketch a preliminary draft of the patterns on different divided parts (the medallions), area outside the divided parts, and also the dividing lines on the biscuit wares. After finishing the preliminary draft, craftsmen will draw the lines boldly (描線 Miáo xiàn) on the preliminary draft to complete a clear and final draft on the biscuit.
4) General coloring and filling gold and green colors
After finalizing the draft, craftsmen will fill colors on it with gradient technique. Then, adding features of patterns like drawing facial features to figures (開相 Kāi xiāng), and dyeing light and dark sides of flowers (撲花 Tà huā). There are different figure-painting techniques for Canton-decorated porcelain. For instance, there are two main ways to draw human figures, which are Black colour outline people design (折色人物 Zhé sè rén wù) and Free stroke hand-painting people design with colour outline (長行人物 Cháng xíng rén wù).\textsuperscript{54} Craftmen will start filling in gold and green colors(纖金填綠 Zhī jīn tián lǜ) after finishing the general color filling. “Zhī jīn” (纖金) is a process of filling golden pigments in the gap at the patterns; and “Tián lǜ” (填綠) means filling green color in patterns like flowers and leaves. The process of filling gold color includes “Dòu jīn” (斗金) and “Fēng jīn” (封金). The former one means painting gold pigment on handles of a ware; and the latter one means painting gold pigment on the rim of a ware.\textsuperscript{55}
5) Firing
Firing is the last and a crucial step to make Canton-decorated porcelain. It requires 700 to 750 ℃ to bake for 6 to 8 hours. Appropriate baking temperature and time
\textsuperscript{54} He Ping, “The artistic features of Canton-decorated porcelain”, \textit{Master’s Thesis}, (Jiangxi: Jingdezhen Ceramic Institute, 2009), P.22-23.
\textsuperscript{55} Ibid.
make a Canton-decorated porcelain bright and colourful. On the contrary, over heating will cause cracking (Binglie, 冰裂) to the pigments on the work. Thus the baking temperature and time control is very important. Old style charcoal kilns need manual heating and cooling (adding and taking out charcoal). Yet, for modern electric furnace, craftsmen can just tune a button to control temperature. The firing process is more simplified and convenient nowadays.
Reference:
Bobbie, Kalma, Japan the Culture. (Crabtree Publishing Company, 2009)
Brawer and Catherine Coleman, Chinese Export Porcelain. (Madison: Elvehjem Museum of Art, 1992)
Commerce and Industry Department, “Enamelware - One of Hong Kong's Oldest Industries”, Trade Bulletin, (Hong Kong: Commerce and Industry Department, 1959)
Feng, Song, “An outline of Five-coloured, Fencai and Canton-decorated
Guangdong Folk Arts Museum, “Century Evolution——Guangcai porcelain in Guangdong Province, Hong Kong and Macau since the nineteenth century”. (Guangzhou: Lingnan Art Press, 2008)
Guangdong Museum, Guangcai Porcelain, (Beijing: Cultural Relics Press, 2011) Hing wah, Chau, Case Study of Local Heritage Studies : Cheung Chau Jiao Festival, (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Educational Bureau)
Hoiki, Yiu., Collection World—Porcelain Made in Hong Kong, Jockey Club Lei Yu Mun Plus (2013) accessed 19 Jan 2015, http://www.jclymplus.org/?event=%E9%A6%99%E6%B8%AF%E8%A3%BD%E9%80%A0%E9%99%B6%E7%93%B7%E5%B1%95&lang=zh
Judy V., Zile, Perspectives on Korean Dance. (America: Wesleyan University Press, 2001), P.54
Li, Zeng, Resplendence — Canton-decorated porcelain, (Guangzhou: Guangdong Education Publishing House, 2011)
Liu, Tik-sang, Intangible Cultural Heritage and Local Communities in East Asia, (Hong Kong: South China Research Center, The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology; Hong Kong Heritage Museum, 2011)
Milam, Jennifer D., Historical dictionary of Rococo art. (United Kingdom: Scarecrow Press, 2011)
Smith, Laurajane and Akagawa, Natsuko, Intangible Heritage. (New York: Routledge, 2009)
Van Dyke, Paul A, The Canton Trade: Life and Enterprise on the China Coast, 1700-1845, (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2005)
Wen Yan, Chen. “Research on Lingnan School painters’ involvement in Canton-decorated porcelain during the late Qing Dynasty and the early Republic
period.” Master’s thesis. (Beijing: Capital Normal University, 2014)
Zhang Cuo. Chinoiserie. (Taipei: The artist’s Press, 2014) |
Partner, Investor, Champion: An introduction to the Arts Council England’s role in placemaking
Catherine Bunting and Tom Fleming
August 2018
# Contents
1. **Introduction** 3
- Our approach to the review 4
- List of contributors 4
2. **How the Arts Council works in places** 5
3. **Placemaking case studies** 7
- 3.1 Greater Manchester: Driving the economic growth of a global city 8
- 3.2 Cornwall: Connecting and diversifying the rural economy 12
- 3.3 Nottingham: Developing a thriving creative ecology 15
- 3.4 Norwich: Defining place and promoting quality of life 18
- 3.5 Hull: Boosting local pride and perceptions 21
- 3.6 Barking & Dagenham: Building community confidence and capacity 25
4. **Reflections on the Arts Council's impact in places** 29
5. **References** 31
1. Introduction
“Investment in places can do important things – it can galvanise civic life, it can stimulate economic activity… it can give a voice to individuals who feel they have not been heard. The Arts Council… must become a greater catalyst for change, taking the initiative by encouraging individuals, organisations and communities to start as well as sustain cultural projects in hitherto neglected areas across England.”
Sir Nicholas Serota
Chair, Arts Council England, March 2017
Place matters. It matters to individuals and communities – our employment opportunities, social lives and sense of identity are shaped by where we live. It matters to local agencies that work to help places prosper and deliver services that respond to local circumstances and needs. And it matters to national policymakers, who increasingly recognise that centralised strategies and funding streams need to be able to adapt to the realities of life in different parts of the country. It is no surprise then that placemaking initiatives are burgeoning around the world, from the Placemaking Leadership Council in the US to the EU Culture for Cities and Regions programme.
In the UK there is growing interest in the role of arts and culture in developing thriving communities and shaping places where people want to work and live. This is partly a debate about social fragmentation and disenfranchisement, in which arts and cultural participation has the potential to promote wellbeing, to bring people together and to inspire social change in some of the least affluent and most marginalised parts of the country. It is also a debate about innovation and growth, in which the arts and cultural sector is seen to play a role in local economic development through talent and skills development, knowledge exchange, tourism and links with wider creative industries.
Since its inception Arts Council England has helped to establish high quality cultural venues and organisations and created opportunities for people to experience the arts in cities, towns and rural areas across England. While some of the largest recipients of its funding are major cultural institutions in London, the Arts Council makes significant investments outside the capital through its regular funding of National Portfolio Organisations (NPOs); project grants; strategic investment in touring and capital; and targeted schemes such as Creative People and Places. Much of the Arts Council’s day-to-day work involves championing arts and culture at local level and building local partnerships, particularly with local government – where this works best, Arts Council regional offices and local authorities are close collaborators in the development and delivery of cultural plans for places. The Arts Council has recently launched an enquiry to explore the potential future for culture in cities across the UK.
The Arts Council intuitively applies the lens of place to its activities, and is beginning to develop a detailed account of its place-based investments and partnerships and its methodology for working in places. To support this work, The Arts Council commissioned Catherine Bunting and Tom Fleming to carry out a brief review of its activities in six locations, exploring how culture helps to shape those places and the difference that the Arts Council makes through its investments and other kinds of support.
Our approach to the review
Our first step was to work with the Arts Council to select six case study locations. Our choice was guided by impact (places where arts and culture have played a particularly significant role in economic and/or social development); pragmatics (places where we had existing knowledge or access to data) and balance (achieving a geographic spread and a mix of urban and rural places, of different sizes, with different governance structures). The places covered in this report are Greater Manchester, Cornwall, Nottingham, Norwich, Hull and Barking & Dagenham – although there were many other places that would have generated equally interesting insights.
To build an initial understanding of how the Arts Council works in these places, we interviewed Arts Council Area Directors and other staff with responsibility for partnerships and activities in the six locations. We carried out a brief review of evidence of the impact of arts and culture and Arts Council investments in our selected places. Finally, we interviewed six people with detailed local knowledge to gain an alternative perspective on what arts and culture mean to places and the strengths and limitations of the Arts Council as a local partner.
This report does not attempt to pinpoint the precise contribution of the Arts Council in our six locations. Successful cultural strategies for places emerge from partnerships that have developed over time, in which agencies align their activities in pursuit of shared goals. As such it can be difficult to identify the difference that individual organisations have made, and to establish causality between specific investments and wider impacts. Nonetheless, with the rapid reduction in local authority funding for culture, and the imminent withdrawal of European funds, it is helpful for agencies to better understand their own distinctive strengths and modes of working in places – to target resources as effectively as possible, and to enable evidence of impact to be gathered in a more systematic way.
This report takes the Arts Council further along that path. It does so by describing the role of the Arts Council as a key investor, advocate and enabler for culture-led place-making; and as a broker encouraging new types of partnership and models of investment in which LEPs, local authorities, higher education, tourism, community and voluntary services and culture, sport and heritage organisations are developing shared ambitions and agendas for places. It builds on the important work being done to demonstrate the difference that arts and culture are making to places (Local Government Association, 2017) and identifies themes for the Arts Council and its partners to develop as they continue to explore how to maximise the impact of cultural investment for communities across the country.
List of contributors
We are grateful to the following individuals for their contributions to this project:
- Mike Emmerich, Founding Director, Metro Dynamics
- Peter McGurn, Chief Executive, Goodwin Trust
- Barbara Matthews, Pro Vice-Chancellor (Culture) and Head of College (Art, Architecture, Design and Humanities), Nottingham Trent University
- Nikki Rotsos, Director of Customers and Culture, Norwich City Council
- Melissa Severn, Cultural Connector, Creative Barking and Dagenham
- Ross Williams, Chief Executive of Krowji and Creative Kernow
2. How the Arts Council works in places
The Arts Council is a national agency with its investment and governance organised around five geographic areas (North, Midlands, London, South East and South West) and a staff presence in every region of England. The Arts Council’s principal investment stream is regular funding to National Portfolio Organisations: £409m will be distributed annually to 830 arts organisations, museums and libraries between 2018 and 2022. During this period the Arts Council will also allocate £97m annually in National Lottery Project Grants (previously Grants for the Arts) and £72m annually in Development Funds, which support strategic programmes that increasingly allow resources for arts and cultural development to be targeted at specific places. Recent and current examples include:
- Creative People and Places: a £37m fund to support the development of community-based arts programmes in places where engagement with the arts is low
- Cultural Destinations: a £3m fund for collaborations between the arts and culture and tourism sectors
- Creative Local Growth Fund: a £1.5m fund to develop partnerships and leverage funding for creative and cultural enterprise in LEP areas outside London
- Great Place Scheme: a £20m partnership with Heritage Lottery Fund to support cultural and heritage organisations to work together to address social and economic challenges in 16 places across England
- Ambition for Excellence: a £35m fund to support the creation of artistic work for major national moments, with 80-90% of funds to be committed outside London
- Local Cultural Education Partnerships and Music Education Hubs: which enable cultural organisations, schools, local authorities, voluntary and community groups, higher education and other partners to work together to align cultural education for young people
- Strategic Touring: a £35m fund from 2015-18 to support touring work, focusing on areas where arts engagement and provision are low – now being absorbed into the Arts Council National Lottery Project Grants
Perhaps less well-known is the Arts Council’s day-to-day work at local level which involves building relationships; advocating for culture; leading or supporting local cultural planning; investing small amounts to create partnership structures or pump prime new initiatives; and acquiring detailed knowledge of the needs and resources of places that ultimately feeds into the organisation’s mainstream investments.
This report will shine a light on these aspects of the Arts Council’s work that are strategically important but often overlooked, and identify some of the key impacts of the Arts Council’s funding in places:
- Growing and diversifying the local economy
- Strengthening the tourist offer
- Attracting and retaining talent in places
- Fostering links between culture and the wider creative industries
- Developing distinctive places with strong identities
- Boosting local pride and confidence – often in ‘forgotten’ places where traditional industries have declined
There has been considerable debate in recent years about the imbalance in the Arts Council’s funding between London and the other regions of England – a debate that reflects broader concerns about the London-centric nature of the UK economy. The Arts Council’s commitment to enable more widespread participation in arts and culture can be seen in the gradual increase in the proportion of national portfolio funding that is given to organisations outside the capital (from 54% in 2012-15 to 56% in 2015-18 to 60% in 2018-22) and in the growth of its place-based strategic funds, many of which are focused wholly or to a large degree on places outside London.
As the Arts Council’s placemaking activities gather momentum, it seems a timely moment to go beyond the question of how the Arts Council’s funds are distributed geographically and consider what it means for a national development agency to work in a place-based way. By taking a coordinated approach to place, the Arts Council can help to maximise the growth and innovation of major cities; to enhance the quality of life for communities across the country; to build audiences and thus markets for culture; and to ensure places aren’t left behind. As a national agency, the Arts Council is also in a strong position to connect places: so that they remain outward-looking; so that local pride flourishes in a context of tolerance and openness; and so that local partners continue to learn from and exchange best practice with each other and with placemakers across Europe and globally.
In the case studies that follow we explore some of the ways in which arts and culture are contributing to the economic and social development of places and provide insight into the Arts Council’s key partnerships, investments, activities and challenges in six locations. In the concluding section we reflect on the Arts Council’s overall approach to placemaking and identify some future opportunities and challenges.
3. Placemaking case studies
Our six case study locations are a sample of different types of place across England, of different sizes, with different governance structures and part of different regional networks. Our case studies are organised thematically, with each case study focused on what we considered to be the key outcome of public investment in culture in that place, and we draw on the best available evidence to demonstrate the impact of specific investments where possible. The nature, size and quality of the evidence base varies by place, and this is reflected in our case studies: in some places we are able to describe the collective impact of the Arts Council’s major NPOs, for example, while in others we focus more on the Arts Council’s role in local partnership structures. The table below provides an overview of the case study locations and key outcome areas, along with the total level of investment by the Arts Council in each place in the three-year period 2015/16 to 2017/18.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Case study location</th>
<th>Type of place</th>
<th>Arts Council investment 2015/16-2017/18</th>
<th>Key outcome area</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Regular funding</td>
<td>Strategic funds</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Greater Manchester</td>
<td>Urban city-region; combined authority</td>
<td>£41.3m</td>
<td>£40.5m*</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Cornwall</td>
<td>Rural county; unitary authority</td>
<td>£6.4m</td>
<td>£9.0m</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Nottingham</td>
<td>Major city; member of Core Cities group</td>
<td>£11.8m</td>
<td>£7.5m</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Norwich</td>
<td>Mid-size city; member of Key Cities group</td>
<td>£9.5m</td>
<td>£2.7m</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Hull</td>
<td>Mid-size city; member of Key Cities group</td>
<td>£5.6m</td>
<td>£21.4m</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Barking and Dagenham</td>
<td>London borough</td>
<td>£0.3m</td>
<td>£0.7m</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
* A further £78.8m was awarded in development, capital and transition funding to The Factory in Manchester between 2015/16 and 2017/18
3.1 Greater Manchester: Driving the economic growth of a global city
Key Arts Council impact in Greater Manchester
- Long-term co-investor, funding 9 of 15 major cultural institutions in Manchester city that generate £136m GVA
- Backing new initiatives, including Manchester International Festival – a ground-breaking global event with an economic impact of £40m
- Supporting collaborative action to grow cultural provision and participation across ten Greater Manchester boroughs
Home to 2.8 million people, Greater Manchester is the largest sub-regional economy outside London and the South East. The city of Manchester has undergone radical transformation in the last twenty years, with huge changes in physical infrastructure, a 17% population increase between 2004 and 2014 (New Economy, 2015) and an economy that has doubled in size. After major redevelopment to repair the destruction caused by the IRA bomb in 1996, and a successful Commonwealth Games in 2002, Manchester has reinvented itself as a modern post-industrial city – and there is evidence that the cultural sector has played a significant role in Manchester’s renaissance.
Manchester City Council has long seen strategic investment in culture as a driver of economic development. Since 2005 the Council, in partnership with the Arts Council, Heritage Lottery Fund, the city’s universities and other key agencies, has led major capital builds in Manchester’s cultural sector, revitalising the city’s artistic life and creating a world-renowned cultural offer. In 2016 Lonely Planet ranked Manchester – a ‘dynamo of British culture’ – as the 8th best city in the world to visit.
- Whitworth Art Gallery reopened in 2015 after a £15m redevelopment, attracting 440,000 visitors and receiving 17 awards in its first year, including Visit England Large Visitor Attraction of the Year (Ekosgen, 2016)
- HOME, Manchester’s centre for visual art, film and theatre, creative industries and digital innovation, and an Arts Council NPO, opened in 2015 and welcomed over 1 million visitors in its first year (Ekosgen, 2016)
- The Central Library, Royal Northern College of Music and Manchester School of Art have undergone major refurbishments; multi-million pound investments will create new exhibition spaces at the Museum of Science and Industry and Manchester Museum
“The city leaders in Manchester have understood that the arts are part of civilisation – they don’t want Manchester to be just a utilitarian working town. It’s about ratcheting up expectations of what the city could be – and remembering that Manchester is a place that was world class”
Mike Emmerich, Metro Dynamics
The Arts Council is a long-term co-investor in Manchester’s cultural infrastructure and will invest over £75m in 21 NPOs in the city between 2018 and 2022. The Arts Council was instrumental in the creation of Manchester International Festival (MIF), the world’s first festival of original work which takes place every two years at venues across the city. Now revenue funded by Manchester City Council and the Arts Council, the 2017 MIF cycle received £5.5m from the public sector which leveraged a further £5.8m in private sector and earned income (Manchester City Council, 2017a).
MIF has grown in ambition, international reputation and impact since it began in 2007. Between 2015 and 2017 attendances grew by 21% to over 300,000 and the economic impact of MIF increased by 4% to £40.2m. While MIF is a major draw for international tourists, 10% of tickets are made available at reduced cost to Greater Manchester residents on a lower wage; residents account for 66% of all visits to MIF. In 2017 88% of MIF visitors agreed that the Festival helps to make Manchester a world class cultural city (Manchester City Council, 2017a).
From 2020 MIF will have a permanent home at Factory, a £110m arts venue that will enable audiences of up to 7,000 at a time to experience the broadest range of cultural forms. Factory is one of the Arts Council’s most significant new NPOs and is expected to support almost 1,500 jobs and add £1.1 billion to Manchester’s economy over the next decade.
Beyond MIF, the scale of cultural investment in Manchester has enabled a further 15 of the city’s major cultural institutions, 9 of which are NPOs or lottery funded by the Arts Council, to make a significant collective impact:
- 5.5 million visits in 2015/16, up 24% since 2013/14
- Economic impact of £135.9m GVA – including £45.3m GVA generated through additional tourist expenditure attributable to visits to cultural organisations
- 1,662 volunteers contributing 128,337 volunteer hours; the value of cultural volunteering hours increased from £1.4m in 2013/14 to £2.0m in 2014/15
- Engagement with 80% of Manchester’s state schools and wide-ranging community groups including mothers and babies, adults with skills or health needs and older people with dementia (Ekosgen, 2016)
While much of the focus on cultural development in Greater Manchester has been on the city of Manchester itself, the cultural and creative sectors are contributing to the prosperity and attractiveness of the wider city region. Between 2010 and 2013 the creative and digital sector was Greater Manchester’s fastest growing sector in terms of employment and joint fastest in terms of output growth (Manchester City Council, 2017b); tourism is worth £7.5 billion annually to the Greater Manchester economy, and in 2014 the top five visitor attractions in Greater Manchester were all cultural venues and museums (New Economy, 2015). Looking ahead, the stimulus of the Northern Powerhouse and the introduction of the Combined Authority – with its recently launched Culture and Social Impact Fund – create a new opportunity for cultural organisations across Manchester to collaborate more closely in developing the region’s cultural economy – and ensuring that Greater Manchester becomes a thriving place for everyone.
The challenge of inclusive cultural growth
While the economic and cultural growth of Manchester is a relative success story for the UK, challenges remain both for the city and its cultural sector. Manchester City Council recognises the need to address low levels of physical health and mental wellbeing, rising homelessness, a lack of high quality social housing and significant income inequality (Manchester City Council, 2017c). Manchester’s cultural organisations have long understood the need to work together to extend their reach beyond the city centre and to engage audiences other than the educated ‘metrocultural’ market that may be close to saturation (Walmsley, 2017). As one interviewee pointed out, the challenge for Manchester’s publicly funded sector is to fully penetrate the consciousness of a city whose culture is proudly working class and rooted in its twin passions of football and pop music:
“There’s more to do in terms of cultural institutions making themselves relevant to local people...has Manchester decided what it wants in terms of culture?"
Mike Emmerich, Metro Dynamics
The opportunity for the Arts Council in core cities such as Manchester and wider city-regions is to lead the development of a genuinely world class cultural offer that generates the same ‘heat and light’ as London’s cultural scene, whilst ensuring that opportunities are relevant and accessible to local people. This is a big ask in a time of austerity, and requires all the relevant local partners to ‘come to the table’. Stronger Together, a £1.5m project funded by the Arts Council and Heritage Lottery Fund through the Great Place scheme, will see all ten Greater Manchester districts work together to increase parity of cultural provision and grow engagement and access across the region. With enough ambition, commitment and cooperation, such projects have the potential to transform the way cities and regions approach inclusive cultural growth.
3.2 Cornwall: Connecting and diversifying the rural economy
Key Arts Council impacts in Cornwall
- Major capital investor in flagship institutions (Tate St Ives, Hall for Cornwall) that drive the visitor economy
- Funding cultural development to help transform ‘forgotten’ towns
- Strategic partner working with local agencies to concentrate investment in areas of opportunity and need
A rural and coastal county, Cornwall’s economy and identity are shaped by its distinctive landscape, its history as the centre of the world’s tin mining industry and its rich Celtic culture. Despite pockets of affluence, Cornwall is one of the poorest parts of the UK and one of two ‘less developed regions’ qualifying for EU Cohesion Policy grants. Challenges include small local economies, often disconnected from each other; a predominance of small and micro sized enterprises, heavily reliant on local markets; low wages and low productivity; and limited opportunities for people to find work where they live (Cornwall and Scilly Isles LEP, 2017).
The cultural and creative industries have a strong role to play in bringing people into the Cornish economy, attracting and retaining young talent and building the Cornish ‘brand’. Cornwall’s second fastest growing sector is ‘arts, entertainment and recreation’ (Cornwall Council, 2017) and between 2011 and 2015 the number of creative firms in Cornwall increased by 26%, compared to an 11% increase in the number of firms overall (TBR, 2017). Cornwall’s 70+ museums attracted 1.5m visits in 2015, up 22% on the previous year; the 1 million tourists to Cornwall that cite a museum as one of their main reasons for visiting contribute £2 billion to the Cornish economy every year (Cornwall Council, 2017). Creative businesses in Cornwall recognise that the county’s cultural assets are integral to the visitor economy, diversifying the offer from ‘bucket and spade’ tourism to more sustainable year-round opportunities (TBR, 2017).
Since 2010 the Cornwall Cultural Investment Board has fostered synergies between the cultural and creative industries and provided an exemplary partnership model that enables Cornwall Council, the Arts Council, Heritage Lottery Fund, Cornwall and Isles of Scilly LEP and local cultural leaders to align activities and investments, exchange knowledge and create efficiencies. The Board is an effective forum for strategic thinking and enables partners to address the challenges of working across a large rural area by developing joint opportunities and concentrating investment town-by-town.
“The partnership between the Arts Council and the County Council has been really positive and has led to match funding”
Ross Williams, Creative Kernow
Arts Council investments and activities in Cornwall include:
- 8 NPOs receiving £9.4m from 2018 to 2022, including Cornwall Museums Partnership – a unique consortium that credits seven small Cornish towns with national museum status
- Co-investor in major capital projects including the extension of Tate St Ives, the redevelopment of Hall for Cornwall and the creation of Krowji, Cornwall’s largest creative hub in ex-mining town Redruth
- Real Ideas Organisation, the Arts Council’s Bridge Organisation for the South West – currently supporting over 1,000 young people to overcome complex challenges and move into work or long-term learning
- Cornwall 365, a Cultural Destinations project to market culture as part of Cornwall’s year-round tourist offer
- Cultivator, a Creative Local Growth Fund scheme to boost skills and growth in Cornwall’s creative and cultural economy (£0.5m Arts Council investment leveraging £3m in European Structural and Investment Funds)
Transforming Cornwall’s forgotten towns
Camborne and Redruth is Cornwall’s largest urban area and has pockets of intense deprivation. Struggling with the loss of heavy industries, Redruth is seen as a ‘forgotten’ town with low aspirations and poor educational attainment (Wigmore, 2016); unemployment and domestic violence are significant problems (Mumford, 2014).
Keen to ‘shake off the doubts of the 20th century’, Redruth Council supports artist-led regeneration projects, festivals and street arts and parades, while cultural investment from external partners including the Arts Council is starting to build energy and momentum in the town. Based in Redruth’s old grammar school, Krowji is a creative centre that provides workspaces and services for painters, jewellers, furniture makers, web designers and theatre companies. It offers a creative retail space that attracts visitors and businesses to the area and plays an active role in Redruth town centre by organising events in empty shops and supporting the town’s annual festivals. The Arts Council was a partner in the first phase of the Krowji redevelopment along with Redruth Town Council and Cornwall Council, with match funding provided by the European Regional Development Fund.
Four Arts Council NPOs are based at Krowji including umbrella organisation Creative Kernow, which will receive £850,000 from the Arts Council from 2018-22 to run creative programmes across Cornwall such as FEAST – a community arts fund that over 8 years has supported 500 projects in more than 2,100 community organisations to audiences of over 800,000 (Cornwall Council, 2017). An innovative model for distributing funding to dispersed communities, FEAST projects encourage participation and tackle mental health problems, isolation and rural disadvantage; every £1 of Arts Council investment in FEAST leverages a further £10 in local authority funding, sponsorship and earned income.
Following Krowji, Kresen Kernow will be Cornwall’s new archive centre based in the historic Redruth Brewery building. With an £11.7m Heritage Lottery Fund award, Kresen Kernow will enable people around the world to learn about Cornwall and drive a heritage-led regeneration that is expected to create over 300 jobs and £40m of investment in the town, with redevelopment around the site to include housing, offices, retail, a hotel and a micro-brewery.
Cultural placemaking projects such as Krowji and Kresen Kernow have the potential to be transformational for towns like Redruth. While the outcomes will take years to evaluate, collaborative investment and development that is in tune with the history and identity of the town are helping Redruth to rediscover its old confidence. Research with residents in 2017 found that local people recognise the potential of Redruth as a ‘creative hub – if we can make it interesting, people will come’; 71% of residents felt that one of Redruth’s strengths was ‘bringing the community together through festivals & events’ (PFA Research, 2017).
“Redruth feels quite different to how it did 15-20 years ago. There’s a feeling that Redruth’s on the up – people feel proud to be here”
Ross Williams, Creative Kernow
3.3 Nottingham: Developing a thriving creative ecology
Key Arts Council impact in Nottingham
- Supporting creative and digital industries across Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire
- Long-term investment in the visual arts sector, creating an environment that attracts talent and encourages start-ups
- Funding cultural tourism initiatives, generating economic impact of £32m
Nottingham is one of the UK’s ten core cities and the largest urban area in the East Midlands, with an population of over 700,000 across the city and its suburbs (NS 2011 census). Once the centre of the global lace-making industry, with more recent success in bicycles, tobacco, pharmaceuticals and a range of service sectors, Nottingham today has a strong mixed economy with thriving creative, digital and technology sectors and a nationally significant retail and leisure core. The city has a young and rapidly growing population, with over 70,000 students at two major universities.
Nottingham is also a vibrant cultural centre in which sport, arts and heritage combine to shape an exciting, forward-looking place. Achieving UNESCO City of Literature status in 2015 was a catalyst for stronger partnership working in Nottingham’s cultural sector and today the cultural development of the city is overseen by the Strategic Cultural Partnership, comprising leaders from Nottingham’s cultural, education, tourism and local government sectors.
“The Nottingham Strategic Cultural Partnership is a positive development for the city...an important sector-led platform”
Barbara Matthews, Nottingham Trent University (NTU)
Cultural investment in Nottingham focuses on infrastructure and organisational development. Nottingham’s Creative Quarter, a business district of shops, cafes, arts and entertainment, won a European Enterprise Promotion Award in 2015. The Arts Council will invest £22.8m in 14 NPOs in Nottingham between 2018 and 2022, supporting the ongoing development of new institutions such as Nottingham Contemporary and New Art Exchange, the UK’s largest gallery dedicated to culturally diverse contemporary visual arts, and enabling leadership roles for established organisations such as Nottingham Playhouse and Nottingham City Museums and Galleries.
A key focus for the Arts Council in Nottingham has been the development of a sustainable and maturing visual arts ecology. In partnership with the City Council, Nottingham Trent University and the University of Nottingham, Arts Council capital and NPO funding has helped to establish and connect world-class city centre venues (Nottingham Contemporary) with contemporary art in diverse and less affluent communities (New Art Exchange) and workspaces for artists that revitalise ex-industrial sites (Backlit, Primary). Arts Council grant funding supports individual artists to engage with the city's infrastructure, developing studio expertise, collaborating with major institutions, showing their work commercially and crossing over with Nottingham’s 2,000+ creative and digital businesses. The effect is a creative environment that attracts and retains talent, particularly among the student body, and offers opportunities for creative businesses to start and scale.
Boosting the visitor economy
Nottingham is increasingly recognised as a tourist destination. The Nottingham and Nottinghamshire visitor economy has experienced six consecutive years of growth and tourism contributes an estimated £466m to Nottingham’s economy. In 2015, ten of the city’s major cultural attractions generated 1.9m visitors, a sizable proportion of the 10.7m visitors to the city that year (Nottingham City Council, 2017).
The Arts Council actively invests in the development of cultural tourism in Nottinghamshire and neighbouring Derbyshire and in 2014 awarded a Cultural Destinations grant of £350,000 to the Grand Tour, a programme of contemporary arts exhibitions and events in historic venues across the two counties. Delivered by a consortium including Nottingham Contemporary, Derby Museums, the Harley Gallery, Chatsworth and the Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire Destination Management Organisations, and supported by the D2N2 LEP, the Grand Tour included two seasons of exhibitions with specially designed itineraries and marketing strategies to maximise visitors and overnight stays. There were 461,818 visitors to Grand Tour events in season 1, of which 38% said the Grand Tour was the main reason for their visit; these visitors generated a total expenditure in the local economy of £7.6m. Visitor numbers in season 2 rose to 1.2m and the total economic impact of the programme was estimated at £32.2m (SQW, 2017).
A further award of £150,000 will support a third season of the Grand Tour in 2018, promoting the cultural offer of Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire as a ‘total concept’ that combines industrial heritage, country houses, art, museums and landscapes such as Sherwood Forest. The Arts Council’s total investment of £0.5m has established connections between the cultural and tourism sectors in the East Midlands that otherwise would not have been made and provided a cost-effective way for participating venues to raise their collective profile (NGI Solutions, n.d.).
The need for a ‘whole place’ approach
Culture plays a significant role in Nottingham’s economy and in the lives of local residents. The city’s cultural infrastructure, heritage assets and partnerships, particularly a strong commitment to culture by the higher education sector, provide a solid foundation on which to build. The Arts Council is seen as a helpful broker and enabler in Nottingham’s most significant cultural developments, providing direct finance, leveraging funding and using its judgement to support organisational business planning that aligns commercial viability with audience engagement and artistic development.
“Arts Council support is not just financial investment, it’s advocacy and leadership.”
Barbara Matthews, NTU
Partners need to continue to develop a ‘whole place’ approach to cultural development and investment in Nottingham – but this will be challenging given that the city is underbounded, with half of the population living in suburban districts outside the city boundaries. This makes it more difficult to develop a coordinated strategic approach across Greater Nottingham in which the city and its suburbs (which mostly lie in neighbouring District Councils) can work together with shared purpose. The D2N2 LEP has identified the creative and digital industries as a key growth sector, creating a context in which the Arts Council could bring districts together and broker a conurbation-wide approach to culture. The Big House, a £5m programme part-funded by European Regional Development Fund with match funding from the Arts Council’s Creative Local Growth Fund, will offer grants, coaching and peer-to-peer learning to the region’s creative and digital businesses, and represents an encouraging step towards more joined-up provision and support.
3.4 Norwich: Defining place and promoting quality of life
Key Arts Council impact in Norwich
**Funding and developing arts and culture**
- to help create a vibrant, distinctive place to live, work and visit
**Strong partner, advocate and convenor**
- enabling cultural organisations to be central to the development of the city
**Supporting a collaborative programme**
- to develop Norfolk and Suffolk’s tourism offer
---
Writers’ Centre Norwich: Noirwich Crime Writing Festival Photo, Joanna Millington
Norwich is a young and expanding city in the county town of Norfolk. Historically a major manufacturing base, with a large shoemaking industry, Norwich transitioned in the 1980s and 1990s to a service-based economy and today is an important hub in the East of England for retail, tourism, culture and sport; Norwich is ranked 6th in the UK for day visits (New Anglia Cultural Board, 2016).
The arts are highly visible in Norwich and contribute to the vitality of the city centre and variety and quality of life in the wider region. Literature is part of the history and identity of Norwich and the city has a large independent publishing sector relative to its size. The University of East Anglia (UEA) is a global centre for creative writing; the Norfolk and Norwich Millennium Library was the busiest library in the country for six consecutive years to 2011/12; and in 2012 Norwich became England’s first UNESCO City of Literature.
From 2018-22 the Arts Council will invest £14.9m in 7 NPOs in Norwich including
- Writers’ Centre Norwich, which launched in 2003 as a collaboration between the Arts Council, UEA, Norwich City Council and Norfolk County Council and transformed from a small-scale experiment to a leading literature development agency; in 2018 it will become the National Centre for Writing based at medieval site Dragon Hall, with a 120-seat cultural venue, a high-tech education centre for young people and community spaces for writers and translators
- Norfolk and Norwich Festival, East of England’s flagship summer arts festival, which reached audiences of over 57,000 in 2016 and works year-round with communities across the region to create opportunities to experience and participate in the arts
- Norfolk Museums Service, which runs ten museums and a study centre across the county and generated 400,000 visits in 2016/17 and 50,000 visits by school children, up 8% on the previous year (Norwich Museums Service, 2017). As well as core NPO funding, the Arts Council has awarded Norfolk Museums Service £1.1m over three years to deliver SHARE Museums East, a programme of training and development for museums across the East of England
The Arts Council’s sustained investment and support are enabling Norwich’s key cultural institutions to collaborate to grow their audiences and become important strategic partners in the development of the city.
“The Arts Council has stood by and supported organisations to refresh and reform”
Nikki Rotsos, Norwich City Council
Strong cross-sector partnerships
Cultural development in Norwich is characterised by a whole-city approach and effective partnership working between the Arts Council, local government, higher education, tourism and business. The size of the city has made it straightforward for partners to develop a shared vision for culture and to maintain an open dialogue about progress and challenges. Norwich City Council has retained its commitment to culture despite budget cuts, and credits the Arts Council as a strong partner and advocate. The city’s higher education sector makes a significant contribution to creative life in Norwich, from UEA’s award-winning creative writing programme to Ideas Factory, the art, design and media consultancy at Norwich University of the Arts and the new £5.7m creative arts building at City College Norwich. Our interviewee explained that culture has become a core strength of Norwich and central to the city’s identity and ways of working.
“We all see culture as something which underpins what the city does”.
Nikki Rotsos, Norwich City Council
A creative hub for the wider region
The New Anglia LEP recognises the importance of culture and creativity to the wider Norfolk and Suffolk region. Digital, creative and IT is one of the LEP’s ‘high impact’ sectors and culture is estimated to be worth £83.6m to the regional economy, employing 5,800 people in over 1,000 businesses (New Anglia Cultural Board, 2016). The Cultural Board is the LEP’s sector advisory group on culture, supported by Norfolk and Suffolk County Councils, and enables Norwich’s cultural leaders to work with peers from across the region on a shared strategy for growth. In 2015 Arts Council Grants for the Arts funding of £150,000, matched by the LEP, led to the launch of Look Sideways: East, a tourism campaign that brings together the region’s destination management organisations and cultural businesses and events to create a year-round calendar of events and bespoke visitor packages to attract tourists to the East of England. The programme has secured a further £300,000 from the Arts Council’s Cultural Destinations fund, again matched by the LEP, to develop the region’s cultural visitor economy over the long-term. The Arts Council is investing further in the region with £0.5m from the Creative Local Growth Fund to help develop StartEast, a finance and training programme to support the development of creative businesses in Norfolk and Suffolk, with mentoring and talent development provided by the region’s NPOs and key cultural institutions.
Norwich City Council is now leading the development of a 2040 vision for the city and there are opportunities for the cultural sector to strengthen its role in promoting Norwich as an interesting and distinctive place to live and visit and helping the vitality of the city centre spread to the outer edges of Norwich and the wider region. The Arts Council will continue to be a key partner – brokering relationships, making strategic use of different forms of investment and demanding excellence from its long-standing portfolio of funded organisations.
3.5 Hull: Boosting local pride and perceptions
Key Arts Council impact in Hull
- Long-term investment in cultural infrastructure that enabled a successful UK City of Culture bid
- Partnering with the local authority to develop the derelict Fruit Market area into a thriving cultural quarter
- Encouraging cultural organisations to develop community activities and grow audiences in less affluent parts of the city
Hull has become an exemplar city for culture-led regeneration since its successful bid in late 2013 to become UK City of Culture 2017. A mid-size city in Yorkshire, Hull’s economy was built on trading and seafaring. While Hull is still a busy port today, the city has struggled with the decline in fishing and loss of heavy industry. Unemployment is falling but remains high relative to the national average, particularly for 16-24 year olds, and there are areas of significant deprivation across the city. Hull City Council and its strategic partners, including the University of Hull, see arts and culture as a vital ingredient if the city is to reverse its economic decline and enhance the life chances of its citizens.
The Arts Council has been working closely with Hull City Council for several years, helping to build capacity in the local cultural sector and supporting the city to get to the stage where it could bid to be UK City of Culture. The Arts Council has invested in a major upscaling of programming and audience development at key NPOs in Hull including Hull Truck Theatre and Freedom Festival.
The Arts Council was instrumental in the development of the Fruit Market area of Humber Street which in 2008 was near derelict and cleared for redevelopment. When the redevelopment fell through, the Arts Council worked with the local authority to encourage organisations to apply for project grants and the Arts Council made small investments in a jewellery gallery, a museum of club culture and a ceramics workshop. Private investment followed and ten years later the Fruit Market is a thriving and popular cultural quarter that was central to Hull’s UK City of Culture bid. Along with other national agencies such as Big Lottery Fund, Heritage Lottery Fund and the BBC, the Arts Council’s focus on Hull intensified in the years leading up to 2017: total Arts Council funding for Hull was £21.0m in 2016/17 compared with £5.0m in 14/15 and £4.3m in 12/13.
Hull’s year as UK City of Culture successfully combined:
- An ambitious artistic programme with highlights including Blade, Nayan Kulkarni’s 75m artwork that was made at the local Siemens factory and installed in the main city square overnight; the opening of Humber Street Gallery, a new space for contemporary visual arts; and a stunning upturn in visitor numbers at the refurbished Ferens Gallery, host for the 2017 Turner Prize
- Extensive community engagement that took activity well beyond the centre so that Hull 2017 felt ‘owned’ by the city
- A large-scale volunteer programme in which over 2,400 volunteers contributed 337,000 hours of volunteering at a financial value of £5.4m
The preliminary evaluation of Hull UK City of Culture 2017 (University of Hull, 2018) provides an initial overview of impact across the year. For example, there were 5.3 million audience visits in 2017 across over 2,800 events, with just over half of attenders from Hull postcodes; 9 out of 10 residents took part in Hull UK City of Culture activities; with two out of three residents improving their knowledge of the city’s culture and history. The projected value of tourism in 2017 is on track to contribute more than £300 million to Hull’s economy. Nearly 800 new jobs have been created in the visitor economy and cultural sector in Hull since 2013, a direct result of investments totalling over £219 million, which are fully or partly attributable to Hull’s UK City of Culture status. Irwin Mitchell’s UK Powerhouse Report Winter 2017 described Hull as a ‘rising star’ in terms of GVA growth, crediting UK City of Culture for drawing visitors to the city, boosting hotel occupancy and increasing consumer spending (Cebr, 2018).
“2017 was a great year…it put a spring in people’s step, across the whole city. Everyone felt better about themselves that year”
Peter McGurn, Goodwin Trust
Building from a low base
The question for Hull now is how to embed a culture-led approach to the development of the city beyond the spotlight of a UK City of Culture year. This may not be straightforward: Hull remains a poor city; the economic environment is challenging; and Hull’s cultural organisations are only just beginning to develop the capacity and partnerships that will be required for the sector to create lasting benefits for people across the city. Historically, arts participation levels in Hull have been relatively low. The surge of enthusiasm for arts and culture that was seen in the city in 2017 needs to be nurtured if demand for cultural experiences is to grow alongside the supply of cultural infrastructure.
The Goodwin Trust in Hull offers an encouraging example of how arts and cultural involvement can be developed in communities that do not typically engage with ‘formal’ culture. Founded in 1994 by residents on Hull’s Thornton Estate, the Goodwin Trust is a social enterprise that employs 200 people and runs services to improve quality of life for communities across Hull. The Goodwin Trust’s flagship arts programme Estate of the Nation, part funded by the Arts Council and Esmée Fairbairn Foundation, aimed to enable all 5,000 residents of the Thornton Estate to experience the arts, with activities including a community radio station, an artist in residence programme and a large-scale light installation as part of the UK City of Culture year.
The Goodwin Trust leads Back to Ours, Hull’s Creative People and Places programme and the Arts Council’s largest investment (£2.4m) in the city from 2017-20. Back to Ours will engage
local people as audiences, participants, creators and commissioners and bring the arts to life in homes, workplaces, public spaces and health and education settings. The Goodwin Trust has also been awarded just under £300,000 from the Arts Council’s Creative Local Growth Fund to run Creative ENRG, a two-year programme providing business support to creative start-ups across Hull and East Yorkshire, targeting areas of deprivation and under-represented groups.
“Hull’s a post-industrial northern city. Life is still hard for a lot of people because it’s poor. Arts and culture help people feel better about the place they live in – like there’s more to life than an endless struggle.”
Peter McGurn, Goodwin Trust
Organisations in Hull have found that arts and culture can support the wellbeing and resilience of communities – but only if opportunities are introduced in a gradual way, by practitioners that relate to and are trusted by local people. Middle Child theatre company, which recently became an Arts Council NPO receiving £600,000 from 2018-22, is based in the Goodwin Trust’s youth centre and develops work in partnership with residents of the Thornton Estate, including drama sessions for children and free performances for Goodwin Trust clients.
“Estates like ours are very carefully balanced – economically, socially, politically – arts and culture have a role to play in making these places more stable”
Peter McGurn, Goodwin Trust
Excellence in infrastructure and engagement
The Arts Council needs to adopt a balanced approach in cities like Hull, strengthening anchor cultural institutions in the centre whilst supporting community-based programmes over the long-term and ensuring that its funded organisations continue to extend their reach beyond mainstream audiences. The Goodwin Trust is working with Arts Council NPO Opera North to create an opera on the Thornton Estate, beginning by introducing opera to the community in ‘half hour slices’.
“The Arts Council puts pressure on its NPOs to work with communities… that’s a good way for the Arts Council to behave.
Peter McGurn, Goodwin Trust
By responding to the needs and resources of local partners and communities, and making deft use of its existing assets and investments, the Arts Council can help Hull to build on the joy and learning of the UK City of Culture year and ensure that culture becomes core to the city’s identity and purpose.
3.6 Barking & Dagenham: Building community confidence and capacity
Key Arts Council impacts in Barking and Dagenham
Supporting residents to make decisions about arts programming; empowering people to take part in the life of the borough
Primary funder of Creative Barking and Dagenham – a six-year programme to enable local people to experience the arts
Building confidence, developing skills and creating employment opportunities
“Merchant of Venice by Studio 3 Arts” by Mark Sepple. All rights reserved by Arts Council England.
Barking and Dagenham is one of London’s most rapidly growing boroughs, with a young and diverse population. For many years life in the borough revolved around its two major employers, Ford and pharmaceutical company Sanofi, which provided local communities with a social life and sense of identity as well as jobs. The decline of traditional industries has had a profound impact on Barking and Dagenham, altering the physical environment, creating economic fragility and leaving a white working class community without a clear sense of status or security (Barking and Dagenham Independent Growth Commission, 2016).
“The whole nature of the borough’s changed – it’s a lot younger – a lot of people feel isolated – it’s not the place it used to be. It’s quite a divided borough”
Melissa Severn, Creative Barking and Dagenham Cultural Connector
At the same time, Barking and Dagenham is a growth point for London. With large amounts of land, cheap housing and skilled and unskilled labour, the borough has a major role to play in accommodating London’s growing population and is a strategic focus for development. As a recent Growth Commission report explained, the principal challenge for Barking and Dagenham Council is to prepare the borough for the scale and pace of change to come, ensuring that growth benefits all communities – which will only be possible if residents are brought together to develop a shared understanding of what it means to live in Barking and Dagenham and how the area might be different in the future. Arts and culture have a strong role to play here in creating opportunities for people to participate together; providing a forum for exploring concerns and hearing conflicting voices; and promoting a positive vision of the borough (Barking and Dagenham Independent Growth Commission, 2016).
Barking and Dagenham has a history of pioneering community arts activity and key organisations today include Arts Council NPO Studio 3 Arts, Boathouse Studios and Gallery, Green Shoes Arts, which develops arts projects with people experiencing social deprivation and health issues, and Icehouse Court, a new studio space run by Arts Council NPO Bow Arts. Barking and Dagenham Library Service has recently been awarded Arts Council NPO funding to run Pen to Print, a programme comprising intensive skills development for writers, author events, an annual reading festival and creative writing workshops and competitions. The cultural offer is set to expand further, with plans for a new base for the film industry in Dagenham and a live music venue and independent cinema in Barking Town Centre.
The Arts Council has been working in an intensive way in the borough since 2011 and has a strong partnership with Barking and Dagenham Council, based on a shared ambition to promote innovation, nurture talent and support communities to produce, share and learn about culture on their own terms. The Arts Council’s most significant investment in the borough is Creative Barking and Dagenham (CBD), a six-year arts programme funded in two phases by Creative People and Places with a total grant of £1.6m. CBD is run by a consortium including Studio 3 Arts, Barking and Dagenham Council, Barking and Dagenham CVS and Barking Enterprise – a partnership that enables key local agencies to work together more strategically. CBD commissions high quality, locally owned arts projects across Barking and Dagenham and is underpinned by a network of Cultural Connectors, a group of over 150 local residents who act as champions, volunteers and decision-makers.
Key CBD activities include:
- Landmark commissions such as WELL, a performance exploring the history of medicine in the disused Sanofi factory, developed by professional artists and local people who once worked at the plant
- GLOW – Barking and Dagenham’s first winter lights festival which sold out to over 2,000 visitors in 2017
- A partnership with the Royal Opera House offering trips for Barking and Dagenham residents to see ballet and opera at low cost
- New adult art schools and support for local people to develop creative business and event ideas
CBD is transforming the profile of arts audiences in Barking and Dagenham. In the first year of the second phase there were over 17,500 engagements with CBD activities and 65% of these were by groups that are less affluent and typically have little engagement with more formal forms of arts and culture (Ball, 2017).
“GLOW festival – that was amazing – loads of people went to it. Often you go to things in Barking & Dagenham and you’re the only one there – Glow was a complete sell-out, anyone and everyone was there. It creates that sense of identity”
Melissa Severn, Creative Barking and Dagenham Cultural Connector
Giving power to local people
Cultural Connectors are the heart of CBD and a key mechanism for enabling local people to make decisions and take responsibility for the arts and cultural activities that happen in their area. In the first phase of the programme, arts commissioning was decided by panels where at least 60% of the voting power was held by local residents; the second phase includes a partnerships fund where partner organisations pitch ideas for cultural activity in the borough, bringing in at least 50% match funding, and Cultural Connectors decide which activities to support. Cultural Connectors also help to arrange trips, curate and produce festivals and perform and steward at events.
The Cultural Connectors network is an opportunity for local residents to develop new skills – our interviewee told us that her experience had enabled her to apply for a new job in a different field. She also felt more at home in the borough:
“The other thing I’ve got out of it is that I feel very rooted here now. It’s a lovely feeling – we’ve got so many friends here and a lot of that is from Creative Barking and Dagenham”
Melissa Severn, Creative Barking and Dagenham Cultural Connector
The process of making decisions about art creates a forum for local people to voice opinions and make collective decisions about the activities that will most benefit the borough. Whilst relatively small in scale, CBD is an example of the type of local democracy that will help Barking and Dagenham communities to embrace the changes to come over the next decade.
“Too often it feels like things are done to boroughs like this. Because it’s deprived, they assume people are stupid and don’t know anything about art. We get to choose and we make it happen – no-one is doing it for us. It gives you influence”
Melissa Severn, Creative Barking and Dagenham Cultural Connector
Embedding the CBD approach
The Arts Council is now helping to secure the legacy of Creative People and Places projects. In Barking and Dagenham, this is partly about harnessing the excitement generated by CBD to date, extending the programme’s reach to more people in the borough and ensuring that volunteering and decision-making responsibilities don’t rest with the same group of enthusiasts. As a recent CBD evaluation pointed out, it is also about creating mechanisms for local people to be in involved in arts commissioning on an ongoing basis and developing a borough-wide approach to income generation for cultural programming, including strategic partnerships with new private sector companies establishing themselves in the area (Ball, 2017). Barking and Dagenham Council’s cultural strategy for 2017-22 makes a commitment to ‘community inspired’ culture and acknowledges the importance of the Cultural Connectors and organisations such as Studio 3 Arts in developing democratic approaches for producing and experiencing culture. CBD offers a promising example of how the Creative People and Places philosophy can be ‘mainstreamed’ at local level.
“Merchant of Venice by Studio 3 Arts” by Mark Sepple. All rights reserved by Arts Council England.
4. Reflections on the Arts Council’s impact in places
The Arts Council is clearly a major and long-term contributor to the cultural dynamism of places across England. In many cases it is the primary investor – e.g. for organisational development, which in turn enables the cultural sector to play an active role in the social and civic life of a place. The Arts Council has also been a key advocate of a coordinated approach to arts and cultural investment in places – working hard to leverage investment from the LEPs and supporting local authorities to continue investment in culture as cuts deepen. To say the Arts Council has facilitated the culture-led transformation and renaissance of many places across the UK, and in turn generated a set of economic, social and civic spillovers, is not an overstatement.
Our case studies are partial descriptions of places and only begin to explore the ways in which arts and culture shape places and the role of culture as a placemaking tool. However we are able to make some broad observations about the Arts Council’s approach to this important agenda.
Placemaking is an (implicit) Arts Council strength
Historically the Arts Council’s investments were more straightforwardly artform, organisation or artist-led. Over time, the Arts Council has recognised that cultural practitioners and organisations tend to thrive in creative communities or ‘ecosystems’ – and that different places have varying levels of infrastructure, capacity and audience participation. Place-based factors have become key drivers of the Arts Council’s investment decisions. This is in part a pragmatic solution: other funding sources (e.g. via the LEPs and local authorities) are often geographically bounded, requiring a place-based approach to co-investment. But it is also a strategic innovation: arts and culture make sense in context; arts and culture are expressive of our identities, which relate to our multiple senses of place; and investment in arts and culture is therefore a profoundly place-based and thus placemaking endeavour. This is why the Arts Council has aligned its investment and partnership considerations closer to specific places, and our case studies indicate that this has helped the cultural sector to grow, innovate and collaborate – and increase its contribution to civic engagement, regeneration and the visitor economy.
A variety of intervention models
Our case studies highlight some key features of the Arts Council’s placemaking approach:
- Visioning and cultural planning: tailoring a strategic approach to arts and culture in different types of place; setting agendas, commissioning research
- Catalyst, broker and advocate: investing (capacity, expertise and finance) in partnership structures to enable cultural organisations to play an active role in placemaking, particularly with local authorities and LEPs
- Enabler: investing in cultural infrastructure, organisational development and engagement using a judicious mix of NPO, project and strategic funding
- National perspective: combining local knowledge with a national overview to encourage collaborations, share practice and challenge parochial thinking
The case studies also show that the Arts Council’s role varies by place – as indeed it should. Perhaps the most obvious difference is that in more ‘mature’ cultural ecosystems (Greater Manchester, Nottingham), the Arts Council is one of a large number of agencies involved in cultural development and is likely to play a more adaptive and supportive role, whereas in ‘fledgling’ cultural ecosystems (Hull, Barking and Dagenham) there is space for the Arts Council to take a leadership position and more directly influence local cultural priorities and plans. A strong regional structure enables the Arts Council to be highly sensitive to place.
Opportunities and challenges
Our research has identified a number of themes for the Arts Council and its partners to consider as they develop their placemaking roles:
Understanding potential and need – part of the Arts Council’s place-based work involves identifying and targeting places where most or all of the ingredients that enable successful cultural placemaking are present: an active strategic partnership; cultural leaders and champions; key structures and processes (such as a local cultural strategy or framework) and a degree of energy and ambition. In these places the Arts Council is able to deploy its mix of funding and convening tools and make small interventions that have big impacts. At the same time, Creative People and Places has shown that there is an opportunity for the Arts Council to be more directive in shaping partnerships and programming in places of low cultural provision. The Arts Council’s next ten-year strategy can set out a rationale for the Arts Council’s strategic role in different types of place, and provide a framework to help the Arts Council and its local partners to identify shared priorities.
Investment decline – public sector investment via local authorities has reduced dramatically and is likely to decline further. The Arts Council will need to continue its pragmatic approach of working with local authorities that are demonstrating a commitment to investment in arts and culture, rather than those which have reduced investment and support. This ‘meet us half way’ principle has been important in securing continued commitment to culture in many places. With lottery receipts also in decline, and EU funds set to end, the Arts Council and partners will need to work hard to leverage other investment sources via e.g. the private sector and planning gain.
The shifting landscape of place – in some places, devolution is bringing combined authorities which enable sub-regional or city-region approaches; in other places, administrative boundaries are too tightly drawn, making pan-conurbation partnership more difficult; in rural areas, the lack of an urban core makes a place-based approach more complex. The Arts Council will need to develop a sophisticated understanding of the difference between an administratively defined place and a culturally defined place if they are to develop even more progressive approaches to placemaking.
This short paper has described some of the ways the Arts Council is supporting culture in placemaking. But it also signals the need for a more extensive research project which is able to develop a detailed understanding of the opportunities for a place-based approach at such an uncertain time for investment and partnership. A collaborative research programme on culture-led placemaking would be a welcome intervention that would help the Arts Council and partners to develop more structured and evidence-based approaches.
5. References
About the Authors’
Catherine Bunting
Catherine Bunting has 18 years’ experience of research and evaluation in the public, private and voluntary sectors. She is a leading expert on cultural participation and value, with a focus on using data to help organisations grow and improve. As an independent consultant, Catherine has supported a range of arts and cultural organisations to understand and demonstrate their impact. She carries out research on behalf of governments and institutions to inform the development of cultural policy at local, national and international levels.
Tom Fleming
Tom Fleming is a leading international expert on cultural policy and the creative economy. As director of Tom Fleming Creative Consultancy, he leads an interdisciplinary team which undertakes research and develops strategy and policy for culture and the creative economy – for national governments, local authorities and institutions. Much of his work explores the role of culture in place-making and growth, with multiple place-based cultural strategies, evaluations and investment plans undertaken.
www.tfconsultancy.co.uk
info@tfconsultancy.co.uk
@tfconsultancy
Contact Arts Council England
Arts Council England
The Hive
49 Lever Street
Manchester
M1 1FN
Website: www.artscouncil.org.uk
Phone: 0845 300 6200
Email: enquiries@artscouncil.org.uk
Textphone: +44(0) 161 934 4428 |
[REMOVED] |
OUR BRAND
A BRAND IS WHAT PEOPLE THINK ABOUT US
which is the total impressions they have when hearing or seeing
our name. The university brand is our most valuable intangible
asset and defines not only what we do but also who we are and
why we are doing it.
# CONTENTS
## 01. BRAND OVERVIEW
- 1.1 Principle p.03
- 1.2 Our Core Values p.04
- 1.3 Brand Positioning p.05
- 1.4 Brand Attributes p.08
- 1.5 Our Students p.09
- 1.6 Brand Equity p.16
## 02. THE VOICE
- 2.1 How Do We Communicate? p.19
- 2.2 Brand Expression p.23
- 2.3 Editorial Tips p.24
- 2.4 Style Guide p.25
## 03. VISUAL IDENTITY
- 3.1 Brand Name p.27
- 3.2 Corporate Logo - Bilingual p.28
- 3.3 Corporate Logo - English p.38
- 3.4 Corporate Logo - Chinese p.45
- 3.5 Abbreviation Logo p.49
- 3.6 The Logomark p.57
- 3.7 Prohibited Use p.59
- 3.8 Typeface p.61
- 3.9 Color Palette p.65
- 3.10 Co-Branding p.69
## 04. VISUAL ELEMENTS
- 4.1 Photography - Style Indication p.74
- 4.2 Photography - Technical Guidelines p.76
- 4.3 Image Usage - Not Recommended Style p.77
- 4.4 Image Usage p.78
- 4.5 Communication Template p.79
## 05. COMMUNICATIONS
- 5.1 Printed Materials p.81
- 5.2 Digital Materials p.93
- 5.3 Video p.99
01 BRAND OVERVIEW
The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology (HKUST) as a BRAND
Founded in 1991, HKUST is an international research university with strong ties to global thought leaders, while having wide-ranging connections with Mainland China.
It promotes interdisciplinary studies and is dedicated to educating well-rounded students to acquire a strong entrepreneurial spirit and innovative thinking – the necessary foundation and skills for the changing world.
1.1 PRINCIPLE
A BRAND WE CAN ALL FEEL PROUD OF
Every time we communicate with anybody about HKUST, it will help strengthen our brand impression and exert our influence. If we communicate inconsistently, it will dilute our brand image.
The aim of these brand guidelines is to be a tool for us to present HKUST, that reflects our core values and builds an emotional connection with the audience. This brand style guide is intended to be simple and flexible and yet provide clear guidance about how our brand should appear and communicate.
Keeping a consistent look and uniform messaging throughout, our communication will help strengthen the credibility and overall recognition of HKUST.
1.2 OUR CORE VALUES
· Excellence, Integrity, and Academic Freedom
· Global Vision and Local Commitment
· Can-do Spirit
· Inclusiveness, Diversity, and Respect
· 1-HKUST
MISSION
To advance learning and knowledge through teaching and research, particularly:
· in science, technology, engineering, management and business studies; and
· at the postgraduate level
To assist in the economic and social development of Hong Kong.
VISION
To be a leading university with significant international impact and strong local commitment.
1.3 BRAND POSITIONING
Positioning is not necessarily about creating something entirely new. It is about reconnecting who we are as a university and what we offer with our distinctive value. It guides and shapes our communications.
CREATING VALUE THROUGH INNOVATION
Meaningful innovation is carried out with purpose and impact.
It creates value for the individuals and organizations they serve and our society at large.
This is the HKUST way of innovation.
LEADERSHIP HAS A NEW DEFINITION
The increasingly complex world requires leaders who have an amazingly analytical minds, sharp vision and most importantly conscience and accountability.
HKUST is fully aware of and committed to grooming these new leaders who can make the right decisions for themselves and the people around them.
They are the new breed of innovators. And they do well and do good.
After all, leadership is more than managing a company, it is about managing one’s life.
1.4 BRAND ATTRIBUTES
The core attributes of HKUST reflect the character and characteristics that are shared by our students, staff, faculty and alumni.
**INNOVATIVE**
We drive ourselves to push the envelope. We are committed to applying our knowledge and skills in order to advance our society, so that the world can be a better place.
**DYNAMIC**
We are curious, energetic, agile and adaptive.
**CAN-DO SPIRIT**
We dare to take on challenge and we are willing to collaborate.
**RESPONSIBLE**
We are determined to succeed and at the same time, determined to serve.
**INTERNATIONAL**
We embrace the world and we are aiming for the highest global standards.
1.5 OUR STUDENTS
HKUST IS THE STAGE FOR THOSE WHO DARE TO PLAY THE LEADING ROLE.
We strive to become the place for those who are game-changers and are shaping a promising future for themselves as well as others. Their journey maybe more challenging, but it can be more satisfying and rewarding. HKUST will nurture the potential of students, help them grow and develop, enabling them to become “leaders” not “followers” in their own way.
THE NON-CONFORMIST
Rules are meant to be broken … for a good reason. Because the biggest hurdle to advancement is complacency.
To break the rules is not “rebel without a cause”. It is about having the vision, the courage and the discipline to set a new standard for the betterment of mankind.
This is indeed the true spirit of being innovative – it is about value creation by challenging the status quo.
THE INTELLIGENT EXPLORER
“Curiosity doesn’t kill the cat”. Instead, curiosity opens our mind and drives us to chase our dreams.
Chasing big dreams requires big commitment and big actions.
This is particularly true in a world that is ever changing and full of complexity.
To seek a breakthrough, one needs to be able to intelligently navigate.
THE DARING PURSUER
Success doesn’t come without struggle, hard work, sacrifices and failures.
Endurance demands the highest level of skills and determination.
Only those with an uncompromising attitude and desire to pursue excellence attract like-minded people to join the cause.
THE UNSUNG HERO
Being goal-oriented is not necessarily about self-glorification.
The most remembered inventors are those who brought new ideas to the world and created positive impacts on our daily lives.
And the most respected leaders are those who can effectively lead with a strong sense of conscience and modesty.
These are the type of “new” leaders who will lead us to a better world.
“No man is an island” and we realize that people are becoming more inseparable. Not only is this physically, but mentally. We are more conscious of building a world-community to share resources and face challenges together.
With the latest technology and more importantly a global view, we are living in a borderless world where the sky is the limit.
These are five personality traits that truly reflect the desired brand imagery.
1.6 BRAND EQUITY
Brand equity develops and grows as a result of different targeted audience experiences with the brand. The process typically involves that the targeted audience’s natural relationship with the brand unfolds following a predictable model:
**AWARENESS**
The brand is introduced to its target audience often with marketing and advertising in a way that gets it noticed.
**RECOGNITION**
The target audience becomes familiar with the brand and recognize it anywhere.
**CONNECTION**
When the target audience has a good experience with the brand, it becomes the preferred choice.
**LOYALTY**
After a series of good brand experiences, users not only recommend it to others, but it becomes the only one they will go for in that category. They think so highly of it that any creation associated with the brand benefits from its positive glow.
FROM MISSION TO EXPRESSION
CREATING VALUE THROUGH INNOVATION
Meaningful innovation is one that is with purpose and impact. It creates value for the individuals, the organizations they serve and our society at large.
This is indeed the HKUST way of innovation.
Validated by research with internal & external stakeholders
Brand Proposition
Brand Story
Brand Attributes
Brand Personalities
5 Strategic Focuses
Mission & Vision
Responsible
Innovative
Can-Do Spirit
International
Dynamic
The Unsung Hero
The Non Conformist
The Daring Pursuer
The World Citizen
The Intelligent Explorer
Leader
Innovation & Entrepreneurship
Best-in-Class
Diversity
Talents
To advance our society through dedication to world class research and academic excellence.
02 THE VOICE
When writing for marketing communications and advertising, our voice, as conveyed in the language we use, reflects our brand identity.
Our tone and manner, choice of words, and way of presentation will all play a role in how our brand image is conceived by our audience. The way we write embodies the brand’s personality, expresses the values we stand for, and reflects the people that make up the brand—the things that drive them, their loves and hates, and what they want to share with the world.
2.1 HOW DO WE COMMUNICATE?
Our brand voice is the way we write and speak to our different audiences.
Whether it is a brochure or a speech, a consistent tone of voice will help reinforce and strengthen our brand. It is a vital part of our brand identity and personality.
Be PASSIONATE about our innovations and discoveries
Communicate with passion, and avoid clichés. Use stimulating, energetic expressions to exhibit our inventiveness and creativity for finding the best possible solutions to critical global issues. That passion and enthusiasm only comes through with active and vibrant language.
Be CONFIDENT in what we stand for
Write with confidence without being arrogant. Choose bold, unambiguous language to describe the actions we take to address the biggest problems in the world today. Describe our eagerness to challenge the status quo and put ideas to the test in the real world.
Be FRIENDLY and show that we care about our world
We are the voice of togetherness and open-mindedness. Use warm, people-oriented language that connects with diverse audiences and engages the reader so that they can relate to our stories.
Be INTELLIGENT in conveying our findings
Use facts and figures to provide evidence and substance, but use storytelling techniques to bring those facts to life. Articles are more interesting, relevant, and memorable to readers if they can relate to the characters and the story being told. Avoid unnecessary jargon and explain things in a direct, straightforward manner.
Be INSPIRING and ignite interest in joining our innovation journey
Tell a story in a provocative way to fuel curiosity and imagination about the social impact of our innovations. Aim to inspire and motivate our audience to join us in our quest for making life-changing breakthroughs.
HOW DO WE SOUND?
01: to sound PASSIONATE
**ADD SPARKLE AND PASSION WITH DETAILS**
Make use of adjectives and details to bring your story alive.
**EXAMPLE:**
**BEFORE**
The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology (HKUST) hosted its annual Underwater Robot Competition and a record 300 students from 42 different primary and secondary schools signed up for the four-day event.
**AFTER**
Hundreds of young students recently pitted their mechanical creations against one another during the annual Underwater Robot Competition. Over the course of four days, the 300 students—a record for the event—competed against their peers, swapped building tips, and engaged with mentors from HKUST.
02: to sound INTELLIGENT
**TELL A STORY WITH STATISTICS**
Use data and statistics to enrich a point, not make the point.
**EXAMPLE:**
**BEFORE**
Last year, 90% of HKUST graduates were employed within a year, with employers citing quality X, Y, and Z as reasons for their hiring.
**AFTER**
...these are qualities that employers value highly, with 90% of HKUST graduates landing jobs within a year, making it one of the Asia’s most successful universities for employment.
03: to sound CONFIDENT
**SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT**
Describe our actions with decisiveness and limit the use of tentative words.
**EXAMPLE:**
**BEFORE**
We hope to become one of the best universities in the world.
**AFTER**
We aspire to be the world’s leading university.
04: to sound INSPIRING
**ADD IMPACT WITH RHETORICAL DEVICES**
Use rhetorical devices such as metaphor, simile, or repetition to create more persuasive content and direct your audience to the action that you want them to take. Add a quote to emphasize the point you try to make.
**EXAMPLE:**
**BEFORE**
Be a leader, not just a follower; take some risks, set long term goals, constantly broaden your horizons, and aim to leave your own mark in this world.
**AFTER**
The famous painter, Vincent Von Gogh, once said, “The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.” Take some risks, be passionate about what you do, and let no adversities deter you in your adventures.
05: to sound FRIENDLY
**USE FIRST PERSON NARRATIVE AND POSITIVE WORDS**
Use first-person narrative and positive words to give your writing a more personal and human touch.
**EXAMPLE:**
**BEFORE**
Our sports center is closed for renovation until February 2019. We apologize for any inconvenience caused.
**AFTER**
We’re sorry that our center is undergoing a facelift. Please come back again in February 2019 for a brand new look!
2.2 BRAND EXPRESSION
The words below can help guide you in your search for an effective way to express the brand.
PASSIONATE
- Committed
- Dedicated
- Devoted
- Diligent
- Driven
- Energetic
- Enthusiastic
- Focused
INTELLIGENT
- Accomplished
- Creative
- Exceptional
- Expert
- Original
- Outstanding
- Skillful
- Talented
CONFIDENT
- Certain
- Forefront
- Forging
- Leading
- Pioneering
- Pathfinder
- Proud
- Trailblazer
INSPIRING
- Adventurous
- Affecting
- Encouraging
- Discover
- Game Changing
- Imaginative
- Stimulating
- Unconventional
FRIENDLY
- Approachable
- Collective
- Community
- Hospitable
- Receptive
- Sociable
- Supportive
- Welcoming
2.3 EDITORIAL TIPS
You will come across different contexts that require your judgement in choosing the language and tone that best conveys who we are and create an emotional connection with the reader.
Always tailor your content to your audience.
Ask yourself A FEW QUESTIONS before you begin writing.
Our style guide seeks to maintain editorial consistency, brand tone and voice across all content.
In general, it follows the Chicago Manual of Style, The Associated Press Stylebook, and Merriam-Webster Online. The guide was created with the following uses in mind:
- University publications
- Press releases
- Newsletters
- Brochures
- Websites
- Social media content
- Correspondence between the University and the public or other external parties
Contact the paoeditorial@ust.hk if you have any questions.
03 VISUAL IDENTITY
The look, feel, tone, terminology and messages need to be consistent throughout the communication. Without consistency, audiences will lose sight of the picture we are trying to paint.
This section will provide clear rules for communicating the brand for HKUST. This will help us in designing and creating the communication in different forms and for various occasions.
3.1 BRAND NAME
**FULL NAME:**
The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology
香港科技大學
Always use the full name when it appears for the first time in any communication.
Abbreviations can be used afterwards. “The” is a part of the name, and it is capitalized. The full name can appear again anytime on a needed basis even within the same communication.
**ABBREVIATIONS:**
HKUST
科大 / 港科大
No spacing in between the alphabets “HKUST”. “The” is not required in front of HKUST.
**INCORRECT:**
“UST” “USTHK” “THKUST”
These are not the appropriate abbreviations in any written and/or official spoken form of communication. It is important to use the name in a cohesive manner.
3.2 CORPORATE LOGO - BILINGUAL
This logotype should be used whenever possible on all bilingual communications, including printed material, presentations, websites, merchandise items and signage.
The logo is for use only on communications produced by HKUST. It is not for use on communications produced by non-HKUST entities.
CORPORATE LOGO - BILINGUAL
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
This logo should be used whenever possible on all communications in a bilingual context. Including online and offline promotional materials, events, presentations, merchandise items and signage.
The HKUST corporate logo is a key part of the brand and should always appear exactly as specified in these guidelines.
The logo should be used in its entirely with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
To download the logo files: LOGO DOWNLOAD
CORPORATE LOGO - BILINGUAL
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
VARIATIONS
There are several versions of the logo with different alignments to meet different design needs.
HORIZONTAL - 01
HORIZONTAL - 02
To download the logo files: LOGO DOWNLOAD
VARIATIONS
There are several versions of the logo with different alignments to meet different design needs.
To download the logo files: [LOGO DOWNLOAD]
CLEAR SPACE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
The minimum clear space area ensures that no other elements infringe upon the HKUST logo, allowing them to be easily seen and to be quickly recognized.
Do not place other elements, such as graphics, photos and text, in the clear space close to any HKUST logo. These rules apply to all versions of the HKUST logos.
CLEAR SPACE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
HORIZONTAL - 01
HORIZONTAL - 02
CORPORATE LOGO USAGE - BILINGUAL
CLEAR SPACE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
CORPORATE LOGO USAGE - BILINGUAL
MINIMUM SIZE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
To make sure the logo is always clear and legible, there is a minimum size requirement.
The minimum size requirement is based on the height of the symbol.
CORPORATE LOGO USAGE - BILINGUAL
MINIMUM SIZE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
HORIZONTAL - 01
PRINTS 13mm
ONLINE 45 px
HORIZONTAL - 02
PRINTS 13mm
ONLINE 45 px
HKUST Brand Guidelines
CORPORATE LOGO USAGE - BILINGUAL
MINIMUM SIZE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
CENTER - 01
PRINTS 20 mm
CENTER - 02
ONLINE 85 px
PRINTS 18 mm
CENTER - 03
ONLINE 80 px
PRINTS 15 mm
ONLINE 70 px
3.3 CORPORATE LOGO - ENGLISH
This logotype should be used whenever possible on all English communications, including printed material, presentations, websites, merchandise items and signage.
The logo is for use only on communications produced by HKUST. It is not for use on communications produced by non-HKUST entities.
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
There are several versions of the logo with different alignments to meet different design needs.
**HORIZONTAL - 01**
**HORIZONTAL - 02**
To download the logo files: [LOGO DOWNLOAD](#)
CORPORATE LOGO - ENGLISH
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
VARIATIONS
There are several versions of the logo with different alignments to meet different design needs.
CENTER - 01
THE HONG KONG UNIVERSITY OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY
CENTER - 02
THE HONG KONG UNIVERSITY OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY
CENTER - 03
THE HONG KONG UNIVERSITY OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY
To download the logo files: LOGO DOWNLOAD
The minimum clear space area ensures that no other elements infringe upon the HKUST logotypes, allowing them to be easily seen and to be quickly recognized.
Do not place other elements, such as graphics, photos and text, in the clear space close to any HKUST logotypes.
CORPORATE LOGO USAGE - ENGLISH
CLEAR SPACE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
CORPORATE LOGO USAGE - ENGLISH
MINIMUM SIZE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
To make sure the logo is always clear and legible, there is a minimum size requirement.
The minimum size requirement is based on the height of the symbol.
CORPORATE LOGO USAGE - ENGLISH
MINIMUM SIZE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
CENTER - 01
PRINTS
18 mm
THE HONG KONG UNIVERSITY OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY
CENTER - 02
ONLINE
80 px
PRINTS
15 mm
THE HONG KONG UNIVERSITY OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY
CENTER - 03
PRINTS
15 mm
THE HONG KONG UNIVERSITY OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY
ONLINE
60 px
This logotype should be used whenever possible on all Chinese communications, including printed material, presentations, websites, merchandise items and signage.
The logo is for use only on communications produced by HKUST. It is not for use on communications produced by non-HKUST entities.
There are several versions of the logo with different alignments to meet different design needs.
The minimum clear space area ensures that no other elements infringe upon the HKUST logos, allowing them to be easily seen and to be quickly recognized.
Do not place other elements, such as graphics, photos and text, in the clear space close to any HKUST logotypes.
CORPORATE LOGO USAGE - CHINESE
MINIMUM SIZE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
To make sure the logo is always clear and legible, there is a minimum size requirement.
The minimum size requirement is based on the height of the symbol.
3.5 LOGO ABBREVIATION
The abbreviations of corporate logo are recommended for situations where using the shorter name is an advantage because of space limitations or to fit different design needs.
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
The logo is for use only on communications produced by HKUST. It is not for use on communications produced by non-HKUST entities.
LOGO ABBREVIATION - BILINGUAL
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
This logotype could be used on only bi-lingual communications, including printed materials, presentations, websites, merchandise items and signage.
To download the logo files: LOGO DOWNLOAD
LOGO ABBREVIATION - BILINGUAL
CLEAR SPACE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
The minimum clear space area ensures that no other elements infringe upon the HKUST logos, allowing them to be easily seen and to be quickly recognized.
Do not place other elements, such as graphics, photos and text, in the clear space close to any HKUST logotypes.
LOGO ABBREVIATION - BILINGUAL
MINIMUM SIZE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
To make sure the logo is always clear and legible, there is a minimum size requirement. The minimum size requirement is based on the height of the symbol.
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
This logo could be used on either English or Chinese language communications, including printed materials, presentations, websites, merchandise items and signage.
To download the logo files: [LOGO DOWNLOAD](#)
CLEAR SPACE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
The minimum clear space area ensures that no other elements infringe upon the HKUST informal logo, allowing them to be easily seen and to be quickly recognized.
Do not place other elements, such as graphics, photos and text, in the clear space close to any HKUST informal logotype.
MINIMUM SIZE
To make sure the logo is always clear and legible, there is a minimum size requirement.
The minimum size requirement is based on the height of the symbol.
The abbreviation logotype is recommended for situations where using the shorter name is advantageous because of space limitation or to fit different design purposes. It is NOT for use on communications produced by non-HKUST entities and official communications.
The logotype’s relative size, positioning and spacing treatment are governed by rules designed to maintain the brand’s consistent identity. It cannot be re-created with any typeface, or be hand drawn, scanned or modified.
CLEAR SPACE
The logo should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
The minimum clear space area ensures that no other elements infringe upon the HKUST informal logotype, allowing them to be easily seen and to be quickly recognized.
Do not place other elements, such as graphics, photos and text, in the clear space close to any HKUST informal logotype.
MINIMUM SIZE
To make sure the logo is always clear and legible, there is a minimum size requirement.
The minimum size requirement is based on the height of the symbol.
3.6 THE LOGOMARK
The logomark is recommended to be used only for internal office communications or online UI with limited space.
To download the logo files: LOGO DOWNLOAD
LOGOMARK USAGE
CLEAR SPACE
The logomark should be used in its entirety with no alterations or additional elements added to it.
The minimum clear space area ensures that no other elements infringe upon the HKUST logomark, allowing them to be easily seen and to be quickly recognized.
Do not place other elements, such as graphics, photos and text, in the clear space close to any HKUST logomark.
MINIMUM SIZE
To make sure the logomark is always clear and legible, there is a minimum size requirement.
The minimum size requirement is based on the height of the symbol. When reproducing the HKUST logomark in print, the minimum size of the symbol is **8mm**.
For online use, the minimum size is **40 pixels at 72 dpi**.
3.7 PROHIBITED USE
LOGO
PROHIBITED USE
There are a few ways in which our logo should NOT be used.
Here are some visual examples:
- condense or expand the logo;
- incline the logo;
- add elements to the logo;
- reproduce the logo on photographic backgrounds;
- attempt to re-create the logo;
- alter or change the colours of the logo;
- alter the proportion or size of any element of the logo;
- place the mono version on dark backgrounds;
- place the white version on light colour backgrounds;
- place the symbol inside any shape between the logotype.
3.8 TYPEFACE
Typography also helps to enhance HKUST’s brand identity and should be used consistently across the University. To help ensure that all of our visual communications are consistent, HKUST uses a select group of preferred typefaces for various type of materials and one default typeface.
The logo typeface is used only for names of Schools, Offices, Units, Departments, Centers, Laboratories, Institutes and other official organizations under HKUST.
ENGLISH: Futura Medium
CHINESE: 黑體
HELLO, I’M Futura Medium.
Official font type of the HKUST logo
CHARACTERS:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
1234567890 !@#$%^&*()_+:"<>?
Font type: Muli
Muli is a minimalist Sans Serif. It is designed mainly for use a content text font.
Muli has been designed to be used freely across the internet by web browsers on desktop computers, laptops and mobile devices.
HELLO, I’M
Muli - Regular
Official HKUST font type in communications.
CHARACTERS:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
1234567890 !@#$%^&*()_+:"<>?
FONT FAMILY:
Muli - ExtraLight Muli - RegularItalic
Muli - ExtraLightItalic Muli - SemiBold
Muli - Light Muli - SemiBoldItalic
Muli - LightItalic Muli - Bold
Muli - Regular Muli - BoldItalic
HELLO, I’M ARIAL.
Alternative official HKUST font type in communications.
CHARACTERS:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
1234567890 !@#$%^&*()_+:"<>?
FONT FAMILY:
Arial - Regular
Arial - Bold
Arial - Italic
Arial - Bold Italic
你好! 我是蘋果儷黑體 / 微軟正黑體，
香港科技大學 - 網站官方中文字體
HKUST Brand Guidelines
3.9 COLOR PALETTE
The palette contains the core colors that should be used to match with the logo across all HKUST communications channels.
LOGOTYPE
COLOR PALETTE
DESKTOP PUBLISHING
For offset printing or silk-screen, it is suggested to use either PANTONE or PROCESS COLORS (CMYK).
ELECTRONIC PRESENTATION
For PowerPoint presentation or digital prints, it is suggested to use RGB colors.
ONLINE PUBLISHING
For web pages, it is suggested to use web colors.
PANTONE – Matching system (PMS) A numbered color system that printers and designers use to indicate color choice. For more information, please visit Pantone website.
PROCESS COLORS – Cyan, Magenta, Yellow and Black inks (abbreviated as CMYK, with black symbolized as “K”) used in the four-color offset printing process.
RGB – (Red, Green and Blue) The colors used in computer monitors.
WEB SAFE COLORS – 216 colors that appear consistently, without breaking up and dithering, across web browsers and across computer platforms.
ACCENT COLORS
These accent colors are designed to work with the primary logo colors. They can be used in bars, panels, tabs, headings, subtitles and graphs.
PANTONE 548
CMYK 100c 65m 50y 0k
RGB 0 / 62 / 78
Web Color 003e4e
PANTONE 285
CMYK 90c 50m 0y 0k
RGB 0 / 116 / 188
Web Color 0074bc
PANTONE 647
CMYK 90c 65m 20y 0k
RGB 43 / 98 / 151
Web Color 2b6297
PANTONE 310
CMYK 55c 0m 10y 0k
RGB 99 / 202 / 225
Web Color 63cae1
PANTONE 109
CMYK 0c 15m 100y 40k
RGB 255 / 212 / 0
Web Color ffd400
PANTONE 367
CMYK 0c 0m 80y 0k
RGB 163 / 207 / 98
Web Color a3cf62
PANTONE 339
CMYK 85c 0m 65y 0k
RGB 0 / 176 / 141
Web Color 00b08d
PANTONE 130
CMYK 100c 10m 85y 0k
RGB 0 / 154 / 97
Web Color 009a61
PANTONE 185
CMYK 0c 100m 90y 00k
RGB 237 / 27 / 47
Web Color ed1b2f
PANTONE 216
CMYK 40c 95m 50y 30k
RGB 124 / 35 / 72
Web Color 7c2348
PANTONE 137
CMYK 0c 40m 100y 0k
RGB 250 / 166 / 26
Web Color faa61a
PANTONE COOL GRAY 8C
CMYK 50c 50m 40y 0k
RGB 140 / 143 / 144
Web Color 8c8f90
LOGOTYPE
COLOR SPECIFICATIONS
The palette contains the core colors that should be used to match with the logo across all HKUST communication channels.
3.10 CO-BRANDING
Guidelines for using the HKUST corporate logo and co-partner logos for co-branding activities.
LOGO TREATMENT
CO-BRANDING
All co-branding logos must go through proper approval process based on Policy on University Logo Usage.
• The corporate logo should be paired with the partner’s logo for all co-branding activities.
• Where we use our partner logos with an equal emphasis (50/50), the partner logo is placed in the right hand side by leaving the same amount of clear space around it as the HKUST corporate logo.
• The partner logo must never exceed the height of the HKUST corporate logo.
• Follow the scale, spacing & clear space guideline as shown on the example.
EXAMPLE:
With corporate logo
LOGO TREATMENT
CO-BRANDING
All co-branding logos must go through proper approval process based on Policy on University Logo Usage.
- The abbreviation logotype is allowed to use as a co-branded logo. It is only recommended for situations where using the shorter name is advantageous and better fit for different design purposes.
- Follow the scale, spacing & clear space guideline as shown in the example.
EXAMPLE:
With abbreviation logo
04 VISUAL ELEMENTS
Our use of visual elements is distinct to our brand and reflects our key messages. Choosing how to communicate the story visually is as important as the words you choose.
HOW DOES OUR BRAND DNA TRANSLATE INTO PHOTOGRAPHY?
4.1 PHOTOGRAPHY - STYLE INDICATION
**STYLE**
Our imagery should be shot with natural lighting, be real and capture the person’s personality.
**ACTION**
The subject should be caught naturally. Capture them in action, enjoying themselves, smiling and interacting.
**EMOTION**
Use photos that engage the viewer and are able to communicate the essence and emotional qualities of our brand.
**CULTURAL DIVERSITY**
HKUST has a multinational student body, so consider selecting diversity rich images.
PRESENTING OUR BRAND DNA THROUGH IMAGES
INNOVATIVE
Use photography that shows students and the faculty actively engaged in academics and the pursuit of knowledge.
DYNAMIC
Having the best view of the city, HKUST is the leading source of photography that is vibrant and diverse.
CAN-DO SPIRIT
Photography should allow the viewer to observe personal moments and individual achievements.
RESPONSIBLE
Use photography that shows our students, faculty, and staff commitment to social causes in our neighborhood and the world.
INTERNATIONAL
HKUST has students and locations across the globe — our photography should represent a world view.
4.2 PHOTOGRAPHY - TECHNICAL GUIDELINES
- Take high resolution photos — photos must be at a resolution of 300 dpi (2700 x 3600 pixels).
- Use one of the following formats: high resolution JPEG files (.jpg), TIFF (.tiff) files or RAW (.dng).
- Take color photos and use 24-bit or higher color depth.
- Make sure the photograph can be cropped later with a wide view or a tight focus.
4.3 IMAGE USAGE
When creating or selecting imagery, it is important to avoid certain stock photographs, generic situations or environments that look unnatural. The people do not always have to be aware of the camera and should not look like they are prompted.
**NOT RECOMMENDED STYLE**
- Avoid stereotypical posing shot.
- Avoid subjects wearing clothing that features other universities’ logos.
- Avoid taking photos with messy backgrounds.
- Don’t use props out of context.
- Don’t use poor quality imagery.
- Don’t use imagery with bad lighting quality.
- Avoid glare and reflections in glasses.
Open sources from internet
4.4 IMAGE USAGE
Shooting angle, lighting, people’s action and expression are important to reflect the personality of HKUST successfully.
**IMAGE CROPPING**
For greater attention, crop the photos to highlight the subject you want your audience to focus on.
**COLOR TONE**
Photo-editing should always perform basic color corrections. Special filtering is not recommended.
**CAMERA FOCUS**
When taking a photograph of a group or scene, avoid capturing images that do not have a focus.
4.5 COMMUNICATION TEMPLATE
LOGO PLACEMENT
The logo should always be placed on the LEFT side, either on top or bottom, portrait or landscape scale.
MARGIN
NO LESS than the height of the logo (x) on each side, this applies to all communication materials.
COLOR BAR
The top & bottom margin of the color bar should cover the logo with clear space on scale.
Information on the color bar should always be on the RIGHT side and align with the top part of the logo.
05 COMMUNICATIONS
For recent examples of brand approved publications, please contact the Public Affairs Office.
5.1 PRINTED MATERIALS
All stationary production should go through the Purchasing Department.
**LOGO**
The HKUST logo is positioned to the top left of the letterhead, allowing sufficient space from the top and right-hand edges of the envelope. Follow the corporate logo usage on P.28.
**TYPEFACE**
Follow the official font type guidelines on P.61.
**FORMAT**
The format for envelope is landscape.
**PAPER SOURCE**
Impact PT100, 100gsm by Polytrade Paper
All stationary production should go through Purchasing Department.
**LOGO**
HKUST logo is positioned to the top left of the letterhead, allowing sufficient space from the top and right-hand edges of envelope. Follow the corporate logo usage on P.28.
**TYPEFACE**
Follow the official font type guidelines on P.61
**FORMAT**
The format for envelope is portrait, standard A4.
**PAPER SOURCE**
Impact PT080, 80gsm by Polytrade Paper
All stationary production should go through the Purchasing Department.
**LOGO**
HKUST logo is positioned on the lower left hand size, allowing sufficient space joining with relevant information. Follow the corporate logo usage on P.28.
**TYPEFACE**
Follow the official font type guidelines on P.61.
**FORMAT AND DIMENSION**
The format for envelope is landscape. Size is 90mm in width and 50mm in height.
**PAPER SOURCE**
Coronado sst CR682SS, 270gsm by Polytrade Paper (Bright White - Super Smooth).
HKUST logos can be applied on HKUST souvenirs, following the instructions as stated in brand guidelines and depends on the merchandises.
If you need further advice, please email to brand@ust.hk.
Examples:
To be environmentally friendly, we recommend WOODFREE paper with FSC certification as our main paper stock.
FSC-certified paper is typically composed of virgin tree fibers, but it can be just as eco-friendly as recycled paper. The paper should be a good quality, 100% recycled paper with excellent whiteness which is suitable for both digital and litho printing.
All promotional materials should be printed on the recycled paper offset, unless circumstances dictate otherwise.
PRINTED MATERIALS
PUBLICATIONS
INSTRUCTIONS:
The HKUST corporate logo should be placed on the front and back cover in all publications.
IMAGERY
Keep the space for copy and image flexible, use large images for more impact.
Always follow the photography recommendations in section 4 - Visual Elements (see p.72)
INSTRUCTIONS:
GRID
An underlying grid helps organize the information and helps readability.
DESIGN EXAMPLE:
INSTRUCTIONS:
WHITE SPACE
Space not used is just as important to the reader as the space that is used. Do not fill white space with additional images or text that aren’t required.
It can also be a powerful way of drawing attention to a particular element. Surrounding the item with whitespace can be just as effective as making things bigger.
PRINTED MATERIALS
ADVERTISING - PRINT
MESSAGE
Key messages should always be straight-forward and placed in an eye-catching location.
IMAGERY OR GRAPHICS
Always follow the photography recommendations in section 4 - Visual Elements, P.72.
HEADLINE
The headline should be minimal and take up only 20% of the image. A maximum of 4 lines can be used.
Headlines should be short, concise and engaging, to inspire the reader to find out more.
LOGO
Logo placement should follow the brand guidelines. It must always be placed on the left hand side and take up around 10% of the image.
If the backdrop is used for general corporate messaging, the brand color palette should be used.
A solid background color is recommended to help messages stand out.
Legibility is key, therefore headlines should be short and to the point which will allow them to be as large as possible.
Logo placement should follow the brand guidelines. It must always be placed on top left corner.
Key messages / graphics should be placed at eye-level.
PRINTED MATERIALS
EVENT - PULLUP BANNER
- Depending on what the pull-up stand is being used for (i.e. Corporate, School or Department), the appropriate color palette should be used.
- Legibility is key, therefore headlines should be short and to the point which will allow them to be as large as possible.
- Logo placement should follow the brand guidelines. It must always be placed on top left corner.
- Any headlines or text should be on the top half of the pop-up stand for maximum visibility.
5.2 DIGITAL MATERIALS
INSTRUCTIONS:
HEADLINE
Legibility is key, therefore headlines should be short and to the point which will allow them to be as large as possible.
LOGO
Logo placement should follow the brand guidelines. It must always be placed on top left corner.
For limited space, an informal HKUST logotype is recommended.
IMAGERY OR GRAPHICS
Imagery can be used as part of the header. Any imagery used should not compromise the legibility of the logo.
Our website is one of the most important communication tools for the University as a whole. It connects and interacts with our stakeholders and the public everywhere, every minute of the day. As part of The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology (HKUST), all individual HKUST University websites must be regularly updated and achieve the highest level of aesthetic appeal and they must project a consistent design structure. They should contain user friendly navigation and be intuitive, with a tone of voice that helps to build a cohesive impression of HKUST.
The University has developed a site platform using Drupal with relevant functions and templates for website development. The site platform has incorporated all mandatory functions and features based on these guidelines. This customized site platform must be the ultimate site platform used across the University.
You can still enjoy the freedom of website design layout, graphics and multimedia supported by Publishing Technology Center (PTC) and / or your dedicated agency, with the backend being handled by Information Systems Office (ISO), and hosting being handled by Information Technology Services Center (ITSC).
It is hoped that with the implementation of this set of guidelines, affiliated HKUST University Websites will have a consistent look and feel for building a cohesive brand image of the University.
If you have enquiries related to your School’s/ Office’s/ Unit’s/ Department’s website or brand guidelines, you are welcome to email brand@ust.hk or contact Ms Sherry Yeung, Head of Events Management and Branding, Public Affairs Office (PAO) on 2358-5967 for assistance and clarification.
DIGITAL MATERIALS
WEBSITE - QUICK CHECKPOINTS
QUALITY
1. All individual HKUST affiliated websites must be regularly updated to maintain its freshness.
2. Must not create false expectations on naming convention of the section, in particular if that section states word like “latest” or “news”.
3. Must include copyright information to protect your website from plagiarism.
4. All affiliated websites must be Hyper Text Transfer Protocol Secured (HTTPS) and pass a Security Vulnerabilities scanning and fixing.
5. User Acceptance Test (UAT) is the final and critical website testing processes before a website to be rolled out to the public. Make sure your new website has passed UAT before launch.
6. For visibility, minimum font size of body font should be 16 pixel, while font size of secondary text should be 13-14 pixel.
7. Must set most commonly used screen sizes of 1366 x 768.
FUNCTIONALITY
8. All HKUST affiliated websites must be mobile responsive.
9. All affiliated websites must have search functionality.
10. Must set up website tracking tools such as Google Analytics for better understanding of website performance.
11. Must install API (or RSS with tags) in the University’s affiliated websites for automated content such as events, press releases, news, according to categorization by the University.
CONSISTENCY
14. Must adopt the University’s header/ footer templates for all affiliated websites.
15. Must include HKUST social icons or social icons from your Schools/Departments/Centers/Offices in the footer.
16. Must include a link from the website of individual Schools/Departments/Centers/Offices to the privacy statement.
17. The HKUST logo must always be included in the Header.
18. The logo of the individual Schools/Departments/Centers/Offices must NOT be visually bigger than the HKUST logo.
19. The name and logo of the individual Schools/Departments/Centers/Offices must always be at the right of the HKUST logo (For details, please refer to section 03 - Visual identity, from P.26).
20. The HKUST logo must incorporate a hyperlink to the University website at www.ust.hk.
21. All affiliated websites must deploy the University’s logo mark as Favicon in the URL domain display.
To download the full website guidelines: [DOWNLOAD]
HKUST Brand Guidelines
For website security, please consult ITSC.
For backend site architecture, please contact ISO.
For website layout, graphics and multimedia, please contact PTC.
DIGITAL MATERIALS
EMAIL SIGNATURE
A consistent email signature is one of the key elements of our brand image. Every email sent out represents the University, please follow the format shown here for your email signatures.
Example:
FULL NAME
Job Title
Schools/Departments/Centers/Offices
T: +852 1234 1234 F: +852 1234 1234
E: email@ust.hk W: https://www.ust.hk
Email signature should include:
FONT: Arial
COLOR: R 169 / G 171 / B 179
YOUR NAME
Title
Schools/Departments/Centers/Offices
Phone number / Direct line / Fax number
Email, Website
Logotype (hyperlink to official website)
The recommended document size is 16:9.
The PowerPoint system is flexible enough to create different unique impressions.
When adding images to PowerPoint, only use good quality images that are not pixelated or too small to display.
It is better to use clear and concise text with a strong supporting image than to make a slide look cluttered with unnecessary imagery.
Consider the audience and environment when choosing slide versions. For example, dark backgrounds may work well for presentations, but are not ideal for printing.
To download the template file: DOWNLOAD
5.3 VIDEO
COMMUNICATIONS - VIDEO
Video can be a very compelling way to reach audiences, but like any medium you use, it needs to reflect the brand. To sum up, videos should:
- advance HKUST’s brand by establishing brand standards as they apply to digital video content, including typeface and color palette.
- ensure the quality of digital video content reflects HKUST’s status as an innovative, research-led university.
- ensure delivery specifications conform to the appropriate technical specifications for archiving, distributing, and broadcasting/streaming digital media.
- protect HKUST from undue liability and/or legal action that may arise from the production and distribution of digital video.
With video growing in importance, the effectiveness of the HKUST identity and the recognition of the brand are dependent on maintaining a standard for video and web communications. It is important for all videos relating to HKUST to communicate the brand both visually and conceptually.
COMMUNICATIONS - VIDEO
BRANDING
- Keep your video short; we recommend no longer than three minutes. For use in short viral video platform, such as Instagram and Snapchat; we recommend the video should be no longer than one minute.
- Each video should be clearly identified with the HKUST logo (static or animated) during the opening and closing shot. The video should follow the overall guidelines in terms of any fonts and colours used.
VIDEO QUALITY
- All videos should be in HD format. Video output is to be well lit; avoid any darkness on-screen that creates difficulty seeing the subject.
- Any graphics being used must be professional, appropriate and necessary to convey the message.
PERMISSIONS AND COPYRIGHT
- When using images from stock photo banks, works of art or footage, make sure that all these are checked beforehand to avoid breaching any copyright laws.
- If you are using music in your video, either use copyright-free music or make sure that you are complying with all relevant copyright legislation. |
Abstract
Art and architectural works of the Zand period are a unique collection of Iranian architecture before cultural developments of the Qajar period. According to most literatures, they have a simple-oriented structure and borrowed fields of art and ancient architecture (Achaemenid era) and some techniques of Safavid period compared to works before and after them. But the content of the art of this period has not been studied with a deeper analysis of the roots and folk art of the Zand tribe yet. This study aims at decoding and understanding the concepts and semantics metaphors and areas affected by illustrations and images of this period using attitudes and folk art themes of the Zand dynasty with a historical-cultural method and a cultural semiotic strategy as a tool for analysis and interpretation of the affirmative and implicit implications of the phenomena as a system of socio-cultural implication. The results show that tribal art has some degree of creating a non-representational world in which another visual reality independent of any representational and expressive character is raised. Considering this process (items such as simplicity, freestanding, connection with nature, joy, happiness and peace) approves the absence of any absolute functional and conservative look, at the content of art and architecture of the Zand period and clarifies that “Deliberative Functionalism of Ethnic Art” has been effective as the third important theme of folk art in graffiti and internal and external decorations of buildings in this period after the themes: “Naturalism” and “Simplification of Abstract Concepts”. Wide diversity and a strong presence of graffiti with abstract designs and abstracting of Lachak (a small scarf tied tightly to the head), bergamot and framings which are themed with realistic designs of natural elements such as plants and birds in government buildings (castle, courthouse, Haft Tanan and Kolah Farangi mansions) are the best places to publish and represent modern motifs, to emphasize on tendency to abstracted affairs in expression and the reflection of pure concepts abstracted in the nature of folk art as an indicative of the flexible spirit and adaptability of this art with the cultural context and lyrical atmosphere of Shiraz in this course.
Keywords
Ethnic Art, Zand Period, Decorations, Cultural Semiotics.
Introduction: statement of the problem
Zand period has accounted for pleasant and quiet times in the social life of the Iranian people and happy memories in the Persian history. It has played an important role in forming the Iranian architectural history prior to the Qajar period since Iranian art and architecture have always been influenced by the environmental phenomena and resources such as climatic factors and vernacular cultural origins. Accordingly, studies on this period as the last period prior to cultural changes, Qajar period, caused by the effect of architecture on the origins and concepts of ethnic vernacular culture in Iran is of great significance. In this regard, the present study aims to understand the effective concepts of tribal art and culture in the Zand period by a semiotic-cultural approach making it possible to use semantics for creating the murals and other decorations of the period based on the cultural indications of creative signs in tribal and ethnic art.
Cultural semiotics as a part of semiotic knowledge is the study of sign processes in terms of cultural and human relations. Moreover, semantic theories exploring the structural relationships hidden in meaning making can help the semantic adaptation of these works (Shoari, 2000: 2).
Semantics of architectural works interpret the shape, form and design of architectural elements as cultural tools. Thus, the nature of signs is achieved and their concepts are understood by studying meaningful architectural concepts on the basis of structuralist attitudes towards fundamental characteristics and aspects of signs (Falahat & Nouhi, 2012: 8). Accordingly, ethnic art themes and its attitude towards the concept of beauty are the main factors forming the body and content of art in Zand period. Therefore, themes and the way of creating forms and concepts in ethnic art are described, and then signs and cultural indications pertaining to the themes are comparatively analyzed.
Research questions and hypotheses
The present study attempts to answer the following research questions with a view to develop cultural perspectives affecting Zand period decorations:
1. What is the relationship between decorations and wall paintings of Zand monuments and tribal art themes of Zand dynasty?
2. What is the effect of tribal art, themes on the nature and quality definition of art and architecture of the monuments of the Zand period?
It seems that answering the research questions followed by cultural origins and processes of Zand dynasty is recognizable as a part of tribal and ethnic art. Therefore, the study hypothesizes that ethnic art contains cultural themes and a range of vital components and pure aesthetics and most texts adopt a structural- and functional-oriented approach to study it as a constituent of ethnic cultural products such as architecture-dependent arts.
Research background (Literature review)
Texts such as Tarikh-e Giti Gosha and Rostam al-Tavarikh are considered as valuable works on a fresh approach to the documentation and recognition of hidden cultural identity layers associated with Zand period to study the historiography of Zand dynasty with a new insight into and bold statement about describing cultural-social events, which are searching for a fresh approach to the historiography and recognition of lost layers in socio-cultural life of people in Zand period (Milani, 2004: 107-110).
Various studies have already been conducted on the art and architecture of the Zand period by Fars Cultural Heritage Organization (FCHO) and other Persianologists, most of which have adopted a descriptive approach to describe the physical and historical characteristics of monuments regardless of a certain variable.
Proceedings of the great congress of Zand period (2008) also contain further information about art and architecture of Zand period and describe socio-cultural and economic events occurred in it, including “Analysis of Intellectual Architecture Foundations in Zand Period” (Aliabadi and
**Research method and process**
Based on the nature of the research purpose and due to the fact that studied samples are dedicated to past, the present study is qualitative, from the perspective of research type, and historical-interpretive, from that of the method. The aforementioned methodology deals with collecting evidence and documentations in terms of important and meaningful cultural interpretations of historical phenomena based on the cultural intentions and purposes, whether of an individual or in groups, and notably, without emphasizing upon a special theoretical pattern. At the end, grounded on an inference-based interpretive approach, these concepts may present the results obtained through a cultural semiotics strategy considering physical symbols (signs) as meaningful signs containing social-cultural information. Therefore, in this study, cultural themes as the pillars of fundamental structures and universally so-called signified, are considered to be the basis of semantics and an exploration of the existing implications in decorations of Zandieh era. In the collection of written and pictorial evidence, due to the inadequacy of existing documents, the text pictures were used based on the researcher direct observation, documentation, and precise photography.
**The basic theoretical concepts of the study**
• Semiotics of concepts in the context of architecture
Semiotics as an approach to the text structural analysis tackles with studying the way of meaning formation of the text. From this perspective, a text is a combination of signs appeared in the form of words, images, sounds, modes and objects, and interpreted with reference to the rules of a semantic system (genre) in a communicative way (Chandler, 2015: 21). believes that “objects and actions within a culture are considered a sign by semiotics, with this way, the latter aims at recognizing the rules and regulations accepted, whether consciously or unconsciously, by the people of that culture by means of which they endow phenomena with meaning” (Caller, 2001: 35). Based on the cultural semiotic theory presented by Eco2, these relations could be studied in signifying systems as well as a temporal-spatial position/system, and grounded upon their social and cultural contexts; moreover, “understanding the proper semiotics of a work or text is subject to penetrating into the thought world of the creator of that work to discover the underlying facts of respective work” (Abbaszadeh, 2013). From the perspective of semiotics, culture is a complex system of signs that encompasses all the meaningful behaviors of mankind. Accordingly, the world has been made up of different layers of signs and symbols that are interpreted through society, culture, and ideology. Moreover, these layers study all cultural phenomena as a system of signs and symbols (Sojudi, 2011: 128-129). According to Rappaport3, culture (life style) is the most important criterion of reading a building physic, “culture is assumed to be an area in which life, thought, coordination and social interaction systems enact role, a factor to define patterns and theories, and a mechanism linking people and environment; and architecture as one of the greatest products of man has been highly overshadowed by culture” (Rappaport, 2003: 52). In this regard, Rappaport points for style and suggests that: “from the cultural achievements of a society, what is truly perceived as ‘style’ is merely the output of a systematic options process having been resulted in different styles in architecture during the history (Ibid: 82). In this way, Rappaport tries to attribute the building shape and features to the cultural viewpoints and needs as well. Therefore, architecture semiotic
“could recognize the effective features of instances in the processes of creation, meaning making, and aesthetic experience occurrence with emphasizing upon the space milestones” and studying the signs and their interpretation process as well (Mir Shahzadeh, 2011).
Typology of cultural signs functions in architecture
Semiotic is in many ways associated with meaning creation and its reflection as well. In semiotics, direct (explicit) and implicit implications (as the ways of meaning reflections) establish modes for explaining the relation between signified and signifier, and an analytic distinction between two types of implicit signified and direct one through both of which the meaning is created (Chandler, 2015: 209-210). What is referred to as explicit signification ‘the relation between signified and signifier that can have the same meaning perceived at the very beginning of facing the image’ (Vakili & Javani, 2014), and in most cases, enables the study of implicit or indirect concepts used to refer to sociocultural meanings of the signs (Chandler, 2014: 210). In architecture also, the functions of signs can be studied as two ways of implicit (direct) and implicit (indirect) and based on the first group of semiotic terms presented by Charles Morris. Inspired by Pierce, Morris studied the semiotics in architecture in three main facets of pragmatic, syntactic, and semantic. Later, Eco also studied the architecture in the area of cultural semiotics based on “Triple Sign System”. Juxtaposition of concepts of Morris and Eco in table 1, put shed some light on the fact that in architecture, the concepts rooting and signs implications, commence from the physical elements (explicit) as the signs implied to mean (i.e. codes).
Conceptualization of nomadic art in Zandieh era
In recognizing cultural themes of the Zand dynasty as part of the nomadic-tribal (nomadic-ethnic) art, referring to two formal and content themes is largely important; for, according to Reed “as all arts are a form of symbolic dialogue, research in terms of formal values is the same as aesthetic or artistic activity with a biological (content) function and nature (Reed, 2008: 234). on this ground, decryption of nomadic art in nature of simplified and abstract mental perceptions with geometric structures, containing cultural themes and a variety of meaningful and pure aesthetics and value components embedded in the nature of ethnic art, can be studied. Accordingly, sign meaning aspect having its root in the principles of aesthetics, identity, and many learned lessons, associations of archetype, etc. manifested in the frame of the icon and sometimes symbol in the body of architectural space, is used in adapting these signs.
Meaning-making signs in the ethnic art (Decoding of ethnic art)
Ethnic art is defined as a symbol or form of communication and a bed for the concrete manifestation of human thoughts and desires, restraining beliefs and cultural values. It is also completely consistent with “Rural art” presented by Reed. Reed believes that “rural art stems from the man desire to endow daily objectives and tools with the color of happiness as well as the man`s wonderful tendency to shift from abstraction to simplification, and it is rarely representative of religious moods and is focused upon the environmental phenomena” (Reed, 1995: 64-67). It also portrays a sort of transcendental existence beyond the art works and genres, and is considered as the foundation of different art experiences (Reed, 2009: 213). Using purified ideas (imagines) with the minimum details of the other signifiers (codes) of the tribal culture is what having a seminal role in reading the semiotic system.
With the emphasis upon the representative principle, this abstractionism in each form includes codes of nature happy imagines with abstract forms, portraying refined forms, and understanding and expression of profound values of nature behaviors
Table 1. The facets of signs function in architecture (extracted from the theories of Morris and Eco, Sojoudi, 2003). Source: authors.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Definition</th>
<th>Classification</th>
<th>Approach</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Emphasis on the root of architecture elements application</td>
<td>Functional</td>
<td>Studying architecture based on the Triple Sign System</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Emphasis on the communicative system of elements</td>
<td>Syntactic</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>It deals with semantic significance of signs in all their meaning modes and its impact upon the behavior of interpreters</td>
<td>Semantics</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Diagram 1. The compatibility of cultural themes and art of Zandaye with the creation areas in ethnic art. Source: authors.
as well On this basis, aesthetic components of ethnic art products are focused upon criteria representative of intuitive thoughts and affections of their creators and it is exclusively dedicated to criteria in which each credit and beauty is identifiable through form and color. Therefore, ethnic art with an obstructive subjective structure result from the refined and form-driven, intuitive thoughts and conscious selections in the form of mostly geometric forms and symbols of the natural life environment.
Further symptoms of this art is to transfer the simple archetypes in the framework of stable schemas resulted from perceptions and continuous contact with the nature elements as the bed of individual relation with the world in tribal lifestyle, which are transferred with the reflection of the spirit and collective thoughts during the long years.
This art with a material, function-driven, utility-driven, and realistic approach lacks the border between pure art and function; hence this art fails to be named as “fine art”. In other words, in ethnic products, beauty makes another meaning in an extremely high priority over the necessity and usefulness, and the ultimate goal of creation in these arts with all their varied motifs and arrays, is to reflect the perceived ideas and semantic themes that are focused on form from the perspective of visual beauty. Thus, nomadic art is mostly similar to a “recreation” and purposeful reconstruction of environmental elements and nature in particular that reflects a substantive truth by following the nature behavior and action by creating a visual reality. This semantic content in mental forms of ethnic art may allow expressing the visual and aesthetic values of Zandieh works in line with the essentialism of this art in the mental configurations of ethnic art of this art.
**The semiotics of decoration**
As it was mentioned earlier, decorations in ethnic art are something more than a mere array and appearance covering, but the arena of reflecting humanistic-cultural symbols and concepts during the historical trend, which is used to neither showing off nor self-expressing but expressing an internal concept. The minimal existence of decorations in the exterior facade and using simple brick walls in the monuments of the Zandiyeh era (Diagram1), are the structural signs of this attitude in creating a work of art, leading to more emphasis on the interior spaces in the analysis of Zandiyeh decorations. Thenceforth, the analyses are performed separately in three main areas, namely brick work and carving in exterior view and wall drawing in interior spaces.
**Brick work**
In Zandiyeh era, one of the signs a work is considered earthy and simple is to use brick as the main covering of the buildings. After Seljuk period, brick work as a technique was totally forgotten; however, in Zandiyeh era, it was again taken into account as the dominant material in construction and decorating building facades with varied patterns. The decorating exterior facade of the buildings in this era was simple and harmonious with the brick structure of the building. The most prominent of these motifs is simple and geometric designs in the tower facades of Arg of Karim Khan, including continuous and centripetal rhombic designs considered to be the common abstract geometric and angular motifs in ethnic arts. These motifs are observed in varied combinations in a host of handicrafts and local products (nomadic, and Lor and Tork tribes) such as Gabbeh, Gilim, etc. in center or margins as well. It is also assumed to be a technical sign of being overshadowed by the brickwork of nomadic art, reflected as the abstract motifs in the facades of buildings in this period (Fig. 1).
**Carving (Sculpt)**
According to historical sources (Rustam-al-Tavarikh and Git Show history), using pieces of stone without mortar, inscriptions and netted and patterned stony plinths carved in different parts of Zandiyeh buildings are the impacts taken from the
ancient architecture of Achaemenid in terms of strength, stability and appropriate foundation that can be studied. On this ground, using stone in different parts including floor, plinth, pond columns, fountain and some carved reliefs with the maximum use of shapes like square, rectangular and orthorhombic elements with clear and simple geometry is another characteristic of decoration in Zandiyeh era. However, most carved motifs on these inscriptions with the roots of abstract art include Lachak bergamot motifs with codes of ethnic art. Among them, Zandiye popular bergamot as the most widely used motifs in the plinth of buildings in this era is known as “Chahar Mahi Bergamot” (four fish Bergamot) due to its similarity to the fishtail and its repetition in 4 directions (Fig. 4,5), it was also the symbol of water, prosperity, freshness and a symbol of abundance as well, and one of the schemes having its root in carpet weaving of the Khorasan region (Dadvar, et al, 2004: 7).
Wall murals painting (Graffiti)
According to the pictures dedicated to this era, wall mural painting was used as the main part of the decoration in buildings attributed to the state (e.g., Arg, Court House, a Kolah Farangi mansion, summerhouse of Jahan Nama Garden and Haftan Mansion), main Home porches, interior spaces, halls and rooms, in the body and ceilings, with light cream background and as a regular and recurring framing. Semiotics of these wall murals are divided into four groups, i.e. geometric motifs, abstract plant images, realistic plant images, and human images with mythical-ancient subjects and two approaches of traditional and authentic Iranian (ethnic) and motifs influenced by European art (table 1-3). Some of the realistic plant images such as flowering pot in some instances like halls of Arg of Karim Khan and tile work of the night prayer hall (Shabestan) of Vakil mosque are among the motifs directly influenced by European art with brilliant colors vermilion and lapis lazuli in combination with gilded motifs on a light cream background, reflecting the tendency towards nature with realistic manner that in integration with local taste of Shirazi artists becomes more delicate and palpable compared to their counterparts in decorations of Qajar era. This way of drawing pots is completely different from ancient motifs as the most fundamental motifs in the Iran visual culture, either as individual or in a group with other motifs, reflecting the endless freshness and flourishing (Espanani and Boroujeni, 2011: 31).
Pot reliefs12 with arabesque and ivy lines are among the basic combinations in rural art that are observed in different types of nomadic handicrafts (e.g. Lor, Kord, and Tork). seen in different types of nomadic handicrafts (e.g. Lor, Kord, and Tork). In different eras, this motif has been used as one of the main motifs in a variety of decorations of painting and tile work. Pot motifs of Zandiyeh era were used with a simplified and realistic approach
with long neck, and sometimes without arms and necks. Furthermore, the signs of difference in the origin of the motif formation of pot are dedicated to the previous eras and following eras as well. The motif of plot in Safavid decoration is observed to be mostly simple with the minimum plant motifs carved on them; and in Qajar era, nature-driven elements specially roses, lily vine and a variety of fruits with a naturalistic look profoundly influenced by western art and exact implementation of details (Bemanian, et al, 2011); (Fig. 6-9).
Unlike Safavid monuments, human images were only used in the interior spaces of government buildings like Kolah farangi mansion. Moreover, for the sake of harmony with the size of respective shelves, they were used as pointed and arched at the top (Fig. 10). Unlike the Safavid era which mostly focused on dynamic images of war narration, invasion and conquest, these wall murals are mostly used in a tranquil, carefree, and mild space showing people in a calm and quiet condition. The aforementioned image, per se, is representative of tranquility dominant in the prevailing circumstances of Zand rules after the Nader Shah statesmanship.
Among mythical-historical images worked in Haftanan Mansion include images of Joseph and Jacob, Rustam and Sohrab, Sheikh Sanan, and itinerant Sufi that realistically applied with less delicacy and accuracy in detail and coloring. In this period, the most widely used motifs in decoration of interior spaces were dedicated to flowers combined with a variety of chickens13. Variation in chicken shape and flower design in combination with the bushes of red roses through using new techniques, e.g. point of view, ways of choosing and combining elements, founded a new meaning in the aforementioned era. Since late 7th century up to Safavid era, images of trees and birds were part of the scenery and the foundation of most book images (Shahdadi, 2005: 75).
By choosing chicken as the soul, and tree as the shelter of chicken, in the 17th century, Abbasi founded the basis of attention to signs and conceptual symbol of the nature. Over time, such application of symbols and signs led to the emergence of visual and palpable shapes of mental and shapeless forms of substantive and mystical concepts (Ibid: 17). Therefore, according to this visual variation, i.e. portraying conceptual chicken as the bird existing in the nature, it seems that in most cases like works of Zandiyeh era, this variation was conscious. Influenced by mystical literature after the 11th century, the aforementioned works were known as “Rose and the Nightingale” (Gol-o-Bolbol) and it was the theme of most mystic works. As, over time nightingale has turned to chicken, and due to the fact that in Zandiyeh era, the chicken semiotics were turned to the conceptual chicken and hundred leaves Red Rose bush was substituted for the tree as the shelter of chicken (Ibid: 75).
In this style, the bird importance has decreased and it was scattered through the plant base. Plant base was also placed in the ground mostly as Red Rose bush and lily plants (Ibid: 244). Combination and juxtaposition of rich, warm and bright colors (red and gold) and light sparkle are characteristics penetrated into the Shiraz school painting in the art of this era and attribute this way of nature drawing to the painting of Zandieh era. In these wall murals, the meaning relation of motif and background is representative of a sort of attention to the contents of images and purposeful application of decorations proportional to the special application of each space, enriched by integrating with mystic art works and symbolic world of codes and symbols evidently spread over the poetic and mythical environment of Shiraz and Isfahan, and also reflected through nature and senses in the mental world of artists and then the buildings of this era.
Fig. 2. Compatibility of brick work in the exterior façade of Karim Khan Arg towers with rhombic design of Lori kilims with rhombic motif of Western Iran (18-19 century). Source: Hall and Barnard, 2000: 50-51.
Fig. 3. Curving of abstract plant motifs in architectural decorations and elements of Zandiyeh era. Lachak bergamot motif and Arabesques inscriptions in plinth of Zandi monuments. One of the important element in the style of Persian painting. Photo: Ghanbari, 2015.
Fig. 4. Zandi bergamot in the plinth of Vakil Mosque entrance porch plinth. Photo: Ghanbari, 2015.
Discussion and analysis of findings
Investigating the various features of ornaments in Zand era was aimed to decode how the semantic and structural elements were seen and the grounds that formed them from a structuralism perspective and study the entity and its combination by paying attention to the concepts like implications and interpretations. In this way of finding a network of the semantic implications among artistic elements in this era and using interaction, logistics (as a proportion among signs), the signs were studied and specified in three levels including technical, functional and semantic-ideological ones. Unlike the viewpoints mentioned in the present texts about art in the Zand era, the sign, the more as the cultural signs (semantic ones), were greatly influenced by the Zandiyeh ancient artistic, ethnic-tribal paradigms, concepts, preferences and interests and only self-images under the real influence of Europe and Safavid art were used in parts of mural art and sometimes tiling. Based on these results from the current perspective about the simplicity of absolute functionalism in the face of art and architecture in Zand era and concerning the importance of abstraction and symbolic representative methods of reality, the phenomena found a new definition in the tribal art (in comparison with the results mentioned in the extant texts). This elite selection of the nature images was based on two basic principles, namely techniques and technical construction restrictions in the emergence and abstraction of the forms and painting the vegetable, animal, and human reliefs.
on this base, the technical constructive restrictions were not feasible without having these three valid aspects of thought noted by Aristotle in terms of theoretical, practical, and industrial knowledge and wisdom (Zamiran, 2005, 29). This fact also emphasized the richness of abstraction in the ethnic art. Using ornaments in the external spaces rather than the external ones was assumed as an attempt to simplify sight and glory of buildings. This kind of usage could explain the designation of a clear spacial system and minimalism the hierarchical details in the external spaces culturally.
The royal entity of the buildings appointed to the government could be considered as the best place for emerging the new ideas, forming more and more active images and mural arts that were aimed to illustrate the colorful nature with warm backgrounds. In these kinds of backgrounds, painting flower and bird through mystical symbolic concepts showed that the painters’ perspective changed from the human contents towards the nature ones. In fact, this
Fig. 6. Realism in the motif of Lily, daffodii, and Mohammadi flowers, north porch of Vakil mosque. Photo: Ghanbari, 2015.
Fig. 7. Motif of pots in tile works of Safavid Era in Seyed mosque in Isfahan. Source: Bemanian, et al, 2011.
Fig. 8. Motif of pots in tile works of Qajar Era with the more powerful realism (naturalism) influence of western art and reduction of abstraction in scheme. Source: Bemanian, et al, 2011.
Fig. 9. Motif of pots in wall murals and tile works in Zandiyeh Era. Source: authors.
Fig. 10. Wall murals of Kolah Farangi mansion. Photo: Ghanbari, 2015.
Fig. 11. An example of birds and flower and bush motifs as the main images wall decoration of Zandiyeh era. Photo: Ghanbari, 2015.
Table 2. Separation of collected motifs of Zandiyeh mansions based on type and technique used in decoration. Source: authors.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Geometric motifs</th>
<th>Plant motifs: abstract examples</th>
<th>Plant motifs: natural examples of flowers and</th>
<th>Human motifs</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td><img src="image1" alt="Image" /></td>
<td><img src="image2" alt="Image" /></td>
<td><img src="image3" alt="Image" /></td>
<td><img src="image4" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
The increased application of naturalistic reliefs in the decoration of this era through a slow and evolutionary movement from the end of Safavid era to Zandieh era as the result of understanding the relationship of mystic signs and symbols with nature and its elements. Courage and temerity in imaging motifs in the gubernatorial territory of Zand originated from the constant high desires for ethnic art in the intricacy and multiplicity of images and normally used backgrounds. This kind
of curiosity along with the accurate and thoughtful ordering for the regular frame with shiny and sparkling colors on the walls and roof defined the quality of internal spaces (halls and rooms). The lyrical state of naturalism and motif style in Shiraz school used with the new definition under the influence of culturally ethnic-tribal factors in the Zand era in terms of specific lifestyle, beliefs and ethnic interest, along with the simplicity derived from the non-material perspectives and abstraction in tribal art, the carves, derived from the archeologically unique perspective. In addition, in this perspective, a reference was given to the architectural principles of Achaemenid era and the artistic contexts dependent to the Safavid architecture. In ornaments in Zand era, what made these symbols distinctive was the very difference in the semiotic aspects of motifs, colors and their combination by which the mutually functional and syntactical connections ranging from the functional paradigm of a building to the semantic metaphors of the motifs could be decoded. These distinctions which came in tables 1 and 2 classified
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Image</th>
<th>The content of semiotics</th>
<th>Indicative facet</th>
<th>Motif</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td><img src="image1.png" alt="Image" /></td>
<td>Abstract intuition towards the environmental concepts resulted from structure technical limitations (this feature is among the most important factor in establishing a sort of violence in nomadic art)</td>
<td>Symbol</td>
<td>crenate geometric motifs</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><img src="image2.png" alt="Image" /></td>
<td>A symbol of water, prosperity, freshness and a symbol of abundance in the art of Iran ancient tribes</td>
<td>Symbol</td>
<td>Fish tail</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><img src="image3.png" alt="Image" /></td>
<td>Expressing abstract tendencies in the relation of man and environment and concrete-driven perceptions in purifying complicated forms as the simple and repeatable geometric forms in all areas of handicraft</td>
<td>Symbol</td>
<td>Geometric motifs inspired by the objects</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><img src="image4.png" alt="Image" /></td>
<td>Flower as the symbol of nature linking the nomadic artist mind with the surrounding nature and environment (Living context)</td>
<td>icons</td>
<td>Motif of wild flowers</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><img src="image5.png" alt="Image" /></td>
<td>The ancient demonstration of the Iranian tribes idea (Sasanian) about generating, Fertility, abundance and blessing</td>
<td>Icons</td>
<td>Life tree</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><img src="image6.png" alt="Image" /></td>
<td>The unique motif in Zandiyeh wall murals as the main signs of western art penetration into the architectural decorations.</td>
<td>Icons</td>
<td>Pot motif</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><img src="image7.png" alt="Image" /></td>
<td>The sign of liveliness, verdure, and freshness</td>
<td>Icons</td>
<td>Cedar motif</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 4. Decoding of Nomad motifs used in Zandiyeh decoration. Source: authors.
and explained the semiotic elements in images more clearly and made the distinction between signifier and signified possible. The results from analyzing these two tables illustrated that any symbol referred to an information unite whose configuration along with other cognitive-cultural concepts could interpret and decode each element in ornaments. In this symbolic system, the semantic relation of elements formed the synaptic relation and the general language of motifs and shapes presented a new definition of the conceptual aspects and contents of ornaments and motifs.
Conclusion
The symbolic analyses, as a method in analyzing text based on the semantic relations of Signifier and signified, helped to discover the cultural codes in the historical phenomenon without considering author values. Therefore, by emphasizing the processes of interpretive semiotics, symbols and their Cultural Implications incongruent with the contents (themes) of ethnic art, as an effective factor in recognizing the hidden meanings in art in the Zand era, were determined and specified:
- The ornaments and mural art in Zand era and the contents of tribal art in Zand dynasty were related each other implicit- semantic. Such a relation was formed by the Signifiers, as the cultural signs, that were extracted from an internal factor (the contents of tribal art) and two external factors (artistic context of Shiraz school and the impacts of western art).
- These cultural codes formed the quality of internal spaces in line with the comprehensive principles and existential philosophy of artistic creation and tribal art “by abstracting and summarizing construction and intricacy of the elements” in all functional types especially in the buildings appointed to the government while their uniqueness were maintained. These codes could be observed in three stages of bricking, carving, and mural art with the shared elements, including dynamicity of space, intricacy, unique space creation in terms of style in using images and spatial divisions by using the various relations for images and background. These findings in response to the current perspectives about nonexistence of deep cultural themes and absolute functional approaches in this era presented a new image of art and architecture in the Zand era. It was appeared the valuable symbols of non-revealing entity and abstraction that narrated the tribal art acted as the key features of the works in this era. This feature in architecture and recognition of its entity was referred as the essence or taste of space that made the physical-spatial character and features of these buildings in this era distinctive of the works of its previous and following periods (Safavid-Qajar). Achieving such concepts provided new contexts in studying cultural semiology of other paradigms and structures of buildings in the Zand era in other places rather than Shiraz and even other architectures originated from the ethnic cultures.
Endnote
1. Muhammad Hashem Asef is the only historian who mentioned to all cultural, economic, and political affairs occurred at the time Karim Khan was Shah in his book called “Rustam al-Hukama”.
2. Umberto Eco
3. Semiotics
4. Amos Rapoport
5. Technical codes
6. Syntatic codes
7. Semantic code
8. Precognition
9. Essentialism
10. The title that Sir Herbert Read used in defining the local and ethnic art in the human small communities like tribes had a less detailed structure or was somehow violent and practical.
11. His artistic works (as Aristotle believed in imitation in noting the artists’ responsibility) “included the true path to wisdom”. “Art was to make” (as it could be implied from the Greek word poesy)
12. Refer to Spenani and Boroujeni (2011) and Bemanian and his colleagues (2011) in order to know more about the background and ancient meanings.
13. Developing the prevalent use of flower and bird in the Iranian oil paintings with great qualities in Qajar era showed the process of goal change that
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Mural art</th>
<th>Internal spaces</th>
<th>Ornaments in external spaces</th>
<th>Carving</th>
<th>Bricking</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
**Table 5. Decoding the triple causes of motifs in ornaments in Zand era.** Source: author.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Semiotic ground</th>
<th>Technical</th>
<th>Syntactic</th>
<th>Semantic</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>(context)</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
- **Abstraction**
- abstraction in medallion (corner)
- naturalism in arabesque motifs
- motifs of the Iranian archeological motifs
- **Naturalism**
- the abstracted geometric motifs of the constant diamond shape
- the ancient tribal motifs (tree, life, fertility...)
- the semantic aspect of lack of prevention and interpretation in tribal art
- **Functionalism**
- -
- -
- **Carving**
- the use of the stone elements in building constituents
- stone is considered as a part of structure and ornament of building
- the relation between motif and context
- the relation between motif and function
- the relation with other adjacent elements
- abstraction in painting different vegetable motifs
- abstraction of medallion and motif
- realism in the vegetable, animal and human motifs
- the fundamental motifs of flower and bird
- the motif of flower and bush
- framework and distinction of levels
- the dark, rich and saturated colors
- **Bricking**
- the use of the technique of Iranian arcade and arch
- congruency between structure and the face of building
- the relation between motif and context
- the relation between motif and function
- the relation between motif and technique of painting performance
started with Reza Abbasi, continued to Zand dynasty, and became the beliefs of community of Iranian painters. Its production was the mystic symbols in Shahnameh in which the divine texts changed from spiritual codes, mystic and heroic goals to spiritual ones. After this stage, symbols, and signs like tree, flower, spring, sun, water, and soil replaced the human characters. It was a very change that caused the biggest motivation and deep look to nature and its constituents in a way that had not been implied by the Iranian painters before (refer to Shahdadi, 2005, 29-30 to study in detail on this topic).
References list |
Is artists’ perception more veridical?
Florian Perdreau* and Patrick Cavanagh
Laboratoire Psychologie de la Perception, Université Paris Descartes, Sorbonne Paris Cité, Paris, France
Figurative artists spend years practicing their skills, analyzing objects, and scenes in order to reproduce them accurately. In their drawings, they must depict distant objects as smaller and shadowed surfaces as darker, just as they are at the level of the retinal image. However, this retinal representation is not what we consciously see. Instead, the visual system corrects for distance, changes in ambient illumination and viewpoint so that our conscious percept of the world remains stable. Does extensive experience modify an artist’s visual system so that he or she can access this retinal, veridical image better than a non-artist? We have conducted three experiments testing artists’ perceptual abilities and comparing them to those of non-artists. The subjects first attempted to match the size or the luminance of a test stimulus to a standard that could be presented either on a perspective grid (size) or within a cast shadow. They were explicitly instructed to ignore these surrounding contexts and to judge the stimulus as if it were seen in isolation. Finally, in a third task, the subjects searched for an L-shape that either contacted or did not contact an adjacent circle. When in contact, the L-shape appeared as an occluded square behind a circle. This high-level completion camouflaged the L-shape unless subjects could access the raw image. However, in all these tasks, artists were as much affected by visual context as novices. We concluded that artists have no special abilities to access early, non-corrected visual representations and that better accuracy in artists’ drawings cannot be attributed to the effects of expertise on early visual processes.
Keywords: artists, expertise, visual constancy, visual search, scene perception
*Correspondence:
Florian Perdreau is a PhD fellow under the supervision of Patrick Cavanagh at the Laboratoire Psychologie de la Perception (Paris, France). He received a first Master’s degree in philosophy at the University of Tours (2008, France. Science and Metaphysics in Henri Bergson’s work); followed by another Master’s degree in Cognitive sciences at Ecole Normale Supérieure (2011, France). He started his Phd in 2011 on the effects of expertise on visual cognition.
florian.perdreau@parisdescartes.fr
INTRODUCTION
Although most of us can hold a pencil and draw shapes on a surface, as we do in writing, only a few of us can use the pencil to accurately represent an object or a visual scene (Tchalenko, 2009). Why is there such a difference in drawing accuracy across subjects? According to Cohen and Bennett (1997), poor accuracy in drawing has several sources: misperception of the object, poor selection of the object’s parts to be depicted, poor motor coordination, and misperception of the inaccuracies already present in a drawing. Their results suggested that misperceptions of the object might be an important contributor to poor drawing (Cohen and Bennett, 1997; Cohen and Jones, 2008). The artists’ advantage may therefore lie in perceptual and cognitive skills that are more appropriate for the requirements of drawing: either a better, more vertical initial encoding of the object or subsequent, learned cognitive corrections. In this review, we will discuss both alternatives, and we describe our experiments (Perdreau and Cavanagh, 2011) that tested whether artists’ perception is more veridical—closer to the retinal image—and less affected by the post-encoding corrections ordinarily made by the visual system: the so-called visual
constancies. In the end, we argue that artists do not have any special perceptual expertise that would allow them to access to their retinal image or any learned strategies that recover that image. Instead, we suggest that the artist’s advantage may arise from more robust representations of object structure in memory, representations that are more appropriate to the visuomotor demands of drawing.
**THE ARTIST’S ADVANTAGE**
One of the most difficult tasks in realistic drawing is to convert a three-dimensional object or scene into a two-dimensional representation on a flat surface; that is, to represent the world as it is projected onto the retina, the back of the eye. Although visual processing starts with the retinal image, it ends with conscious perception only after a long chain of corrections and processes. The retinal image itself is constantly changing because of environmental variations in light or spatial position of the viewer. For example, the retinal projection of a far object is smaller than that of a near object, and the shape of an object on the retina changes with viewpoint and the amount of light it reflects changes with ambient illumination. However, we do not have this ever-changing experience of the world. Instead, we perceive a remarkable visual constancy, so that our final conscious percept closely matches the external (distal) world’s properties whatever the initial (proximal) retinal image (Todorovic, 2002).
These constancies help us function in the world, but an artist should not represent the world as looks to us, but rather as it appears on his or her retinas. For example, a distant car should be drawn smaller than a nearby child, even though we perceive the car as larger, and an object lying in a shadow must be drawn much darker than our subjective impression. How do artists undo the perceptual constancies in order to achieve their accuracy in drawing?
Numerous studies have investigated the possible origin of the difference in accuracy between artists and non-artists (e.g., Cohen and Bennett, 1997; Kozbelt, 2001; Cohen, 2005; Mitchell et al., 2005; Kozbelt and Seeley, 2007; Cohen and Jones, 2008; Matthews and Adams, 2008) and have reported a correlation between drawing accuracy and perceptual performances in many tasks. Notably, subjects who drew more accurately in these studies were less affected by visual contexts and visual constancies, making them “experts in visual cognition” (Kozbelt, 2001).
Certainly the thousands of hours spent in training in visual arts create advanced skills, and this expertise may change the artist’s visual processing. Strong effects of expertise on visual and memory processes have been reported in many other contexts (Hubel and Wiesel, 1970; Chase and Simon, 1973; Goldstone, 1998; Ostrovsky et al., 2006; Green and Bavelier, 2008).
However, it has not been established yet how this expertise enables visual artists to be less influenced by visual constancies, if indeed they are. Can they access an earlier, uncorrected representation of the object close to the retinal input—a modification of their visual processing compared to non-artists? Or do they use some learned strategies to later undo the corrections made by the visual brain? These two alternatives—direct access to the retinal image vs. later compensation for visual constancies—have long been disputed by art historians, especially by Ruskin (1912) and Gombrich (1960). According to the former, visual artists must train themselves with practical exercises and by using external tools (e.g., the Dürer’s window) to access an “innocent eye” not influenced by knowledge about the properties of the scene and the objects in it (e.g., shape, color, illumination, layout). This hypothesis has been strongly criticized by Gombrich (1960) who agreed that visual artists may use special techniques, but that those techniques do not provide better perception to artists. Instead, he argues that “making comes before matching” (Gombrich, 1960, p. 99), so that an artist would have to make a first draft and to modify it afterward by comparing it to the “original,” so that both are seen after visual constancies are applied (to the perception of the scene and separately to the perception of the drawing).
**VISUAL CONSTANCIES**
Visual constancies are corrections made by the visual system and allow a stable visual perception that attributes an object identity that is invariant to the environmental circumstances of viewing. However, the aim in realistic drawing is not to capture that invariance, but rather to make a snapshot of the physical world, where all the objects are observed from a given point of view at a certain distance from the artist, with specific illumination. In contrast, non-realistic drawing styles are not restricted to physical constraints and, as one example, are free to represent an object from different viewpoints simultaneously (e.g., cubism). In the following paragraphs, we will briefly describe examples of visual constancies and their underlying mechanisms that may be crucial for the experience of the artist.
of objects and surfaces that remain invariant to distance, viewpoint, and illumination.
Size constancy
The car’s size on our retina will decrease as the car moves away from us. Yet, instead of perceiving a car getting smaller we see it as having the same size. This is size constancy. This ability to accurately judge the size of an object despite changes in retinal size (in visual angle) is attributed to corrections made by the visual system for the perceived distance. But precisely because it depends on distance perception, it is also affected by cues to depth used by the brain to estimate distance (Leibowitz and Harvey, 1969; Day, 1972; Todorovic, 2002). Such correction, for example, can lead to size illusions when two objects having the same size in a 2D image appear to be at two different distances. In this case, the apparently closer object appears smaller than the farther one (see Figure 1). Stuart et al., 1993; Aks and Enns, 1996; Bennett and Warren, 2002). Nevertheless, when asked, subjects can attempt to judge the distal size of an object (how big is that car over there) or to judge its retinal size (would it be as big as my thumb if I held it out to block the car). However, Rock (1983) showed that even when instructed to judge retinal size and shown how to do it, the judgment is still biased toward the distal, “perceived” size (Carlson, 1960, 1962).
Because an artist has to depict a 3-D scene on a 2-D canvas, he or she has to employ pictorial cues to capture the illumination and depth in the scene, cues such as reflections, shadows, relative size, linear perspective, and elevation in the field (see in particular Solso, 1996). Moreover, embedded in these cues are the depictions of objects that should match their retinal size and luminance, if properly captured, as if the artist were able to see them directly, independently of the perceptual corrections that then act on them. Our recent paper (Perdreau and Cavanagh, 2011) asked whether, after years of practice drawing distant objects as smaller than nearby ones, as they are on the retina, do visual artists judge the retinal size of objects any better than non-artists.
Brightness constancy
Size constancy is only one of the corrections made when we perceive the objects around us. We also correct for the illumination falling on them. Objects are perceived through the light they reflect back to our retina. However, the light falling on the retina (the proximal stimulus) is the product of the object’s surface reflectance (the distal stimulus) and the ambient illumination (also distal) falling on the object’s surface (Figure 1). Lightness corresponds to the perceived reflectance (white vs. black or light vs. dark) and brightness designates the perceived luminance (Adelson, 1993). For example, the snow is rarely white but more often blue or brown because of the light coming from the sky or from trees. But, we ordinarily see it as white. Our subjective percept of the snow’s color (the perceived reflectance) remains invariant whatever the ambient illumination (Gilchrist, 1988; Moore and Brown, 2001). Several studies described mechanisms explaining how the visual system would estimate and discount the illumination to recover the actual surface reflectance (Gilchrist, 1988, 2006; Arend and Spehar, 1993a,b; Adelson, 2000; Agostini and Galmonte, 2002). Although lightness constancy has attributed to low-level mechanisms (e.g., a simultaneous contrast effect due to lateral inhibition of retinal ganglion’s cells), in fact, high-level processing of spatial configurations of surfaces and light sources is required. For example, if surfaces are seen within a cast shadow, which decreases the luminance within its limits, the visual system will attribute the change of luminance due to the shadow to a change in illumination and not a change in reflectance (Gilchrist, 1988; Cavanagh and Leclerc, 1989).
In paintings, the artist can only vary the reflectance of the canvas’ surface, and thus he or she must pick the appropriate pigment to match the actual object’s luminance. Thus, according to Ruskin, an artist “sees the colors of nature exactly as they are, and therefore perceives at once in the sunlit grass the precise relation between the two colors that form its shade and light” (Ruskin, 1912, p. 4). Our recent paper also asked whether artists can better judge the actual object luminance by ignoring ambient illumination.
Amodal completion
Amodal completion, another case of perceptual constancy (Rock, 1983), corresponds to an inference or percept of a complete object even though the retinal input of that object is only partial. For example, when a square is partially occluded by a circle, we still perceive it as a square behind a circle and not as a notched square (see Figure 1). This completion effect has long been described in terms of Gestalt configuration laws (e.g., collinearity, Kellman and Shipley, 1991) which are linked to low-level mechanisms (e.g.,
Perdreau and Cavanagh Is artist perception more veridical
FIGURE 1 | Cases of visual constancies. (1) Size constancy. In the left panel (1A), we perceive the distant man as being as tall as the woman in the foreground. However, when the man is moved so that it appears to share the same distance with the woman (right panel, 1A), he then looks much smaller than it was previously. This perception corresponds to visual constancy. Because the retinal sizes of the two images of the man (panel 1B) are identical, the visual system assigns smaller size to the closer figure. (2) Lightness constancy (adapted from Adelson, 1993). Actually, squares A and B have identical luminance (same proximal property). However, because changes of luminance on the board’s surface are attributed to a reduction of illumination due to the shadow casted by the cylinder, also a similar change in luminance is attributed to B’s surface. Thus, the visual system automatically compensates for this change and makes B appearing lighter than A. (3) Amodal completion. Panels in (3A) can be interpreted either as a sphere occluding partially a cube or as a notched cube touching a sphere. This latter is harder to see, for the presence of T-junctions (3B) is taken as cues for occlusion and depth by the visual system. Hence, the brain extends the contours (dashed lines) to join them and to form a complete cube.
edge detection, orientation in V1, and solving of “border-ownership” in V2 complex cells Bruno et al., 1997; Rensink and Enns, 1998; Tse, 1999; Wolfe and Horowitz, 2004). Shape analysis has been described as a sequence of stages from edges to parts (mosaic stage) to the whole (completion stage) that produces a viewpoint invariant percept (e.g., Biederman, 1987). But surprisingly, it has often been demonstrated that the whole, the highest level representation, is accessed earlier than the parts (He and Nakayama, 1992; Rensink and Enns, 1998; Hochstein and Ahissar, 2002; Wolfe and Horowitz, 2004). These results imply that
object-level representations are the first to be represented in conscious perception, and that it takes longer to access the object’s parts because the visual system has to “unbundle” them (Tse, 1999; Hochstein and Ahissar, 2002; Lee and Vecera, 2005). The third question we asked was whether visual artists can ignore the completed form of an object’s representation and access the “mosaic” image of its parts (as they are on the retina) and do this more quickly than non-artists?
Perdreau and Cavanagh, 2011
Our earlier paper addressed whether visual artists develop expertise in visual cognition that includes access to earlier visual representations unaffected by visual constancies. We ran three experiments testing size, lightness constancy, and amodal completion. The first two experiments (size and lightness constancies) use a matching-to-standard paradigm while the last experiment (amodal completion) was a visual search task. In all of these tasks, visual constancies were introduced with the use of visual context, perspective grids, cast shadows, and occlusion (Day, 1972; Todorovic, 2002, 2010).
METHODS
Methods commonly used in research studies of size, shape, and brightness constancies can be categorized in two kinds: drawing tasks (e.g., Thouless, 1931; Lee, 1989; Mitchell et al., 2005) and matching-to-standard tasks (e.g., Carlson, 1966; Leibowitz and Harvey, 1967). In drawing tasks, subjects have to draw a target stimulus presented within a specific visual context (e.g., perspective). This technique is not appropriate to study the impact of visual constancies on an artist’s perception, since it will also involve visually guided motor skills that are central to the artist’s domain of expertise. For that reason, we used the adjustment technique and presented both the standard and the test stimuli simultaneously and without a time limit (Figure 2).
Our tasks required our subjects to adjust the size (size task) or the luminance (lightness task) of the standard stimulus to match the retinal image and not the perceived property of the standard stimulus. This is problematic because subjects do not have an intuitive sense of “retinal size” or “received luminance” as these are usually corrected by visual constancies into perceptions of object size or object surface color (Carlson, 1966; Leibowitz and Harvey, 1969). To make these judgments of “proximal” values more direct and intuitive, we recast the tasks to focus on the proximal values. Instructions were “Please, make your adjustment so that the height of the test cylinder corresponds to that of the standard cylinder. Do it as if you were measuring the cylinder’s size with your fingers and only focus on the physical cylinder displayed on the screen.” For the lightness task, we asked the subjects to “make the test patch’s surface lighter or darker to match it with the standard patch’s surface. In particular, imagine that you could look at the surfaces through a tube and ignore the presence or absence of the surrounding shadowed region.”
Both the size and the lightness tasks used a matching-to-standard task. The screen was divided in two halves, the upper being the standard part, the lower the test part (Figure 2). For the size task, a “standard” cylinder (upper part) stayed over a background that could be either a black line-drawn grid simulating a wall (normal condition) or a black line-drawn central perspective grid corresponding to a hallway (context condition). Such a perspective display includes several monocular cues to depth: linear perspective, elevation-in-the-field, and texture gradients (Ames, 1925; Bennett and Warren, 2002) that affect distance perception. Thus, a cylinder lying on it may appear more distant than the test stimulus that only lies on flat wall grid. Therefore, for the same retinal size, the cylinder would appear larger, unless the subjects were able to ignore this context. In the brightness task, the two parts presented identical boards textured with a wood surface with a wood cylinder standing on it. On the standard board (upper), the cylinder cast a shadow that could either cover the standard patch (context) or falling beside (normal). On the test board, there was no cast shadow.
Finally, to disentangle whether the artist’s advantage comes from an uncorrected initial perception (Ruskin, 1912), as compared to the use of strategies that undo constancies after the fact (Gombrich, 1960), we used a visual search task adapted from Rensink and Enns’ experiment (Rensink and Enns, 1998). This task allowed us to measure the processing speed of each item in the search array. This processing speed can differentiate an automatic, parallel, and fast analysis from an attentive, serial, and slow analysis (Treisman and Gelade, 1980). In our task, the target was a green- or red-notched square that was accompanied either by a distant circle (normal) or by a contacting circle (context). The distractors (a different number on each trial, ranging from 2 to 12) were green or red circles with a missing quarter accompanied by distant (normal) or contacting (context)
Perdreau and Cavanagh: Is artist perception more veridical?
For these three tasks, we divided our subjects into three distinct groups: non-artists, art students, and professional artists. The 14 non-artists were recruited from a database of voluntary subjects and they reported that they had no training in any visual arts [9 females, mean age: 23]. The nine art students were recruited from the École des Beaux Arts in Paris [6 females, mean age: 22 years]. Finally, the 14 professional artists were recruited from galleries, workshops, and international artists associations [9 females, mean age: 39 years]. At the beginning of the experiment, we first gathered information about each subject’s training in visual arts. Then, each ran the three tasks in a random order. All the art students and professional artists reported having a formal training as well as continuous practice in visual arts. In particular, their training included observational drawing and painting. Over the three
FIGURE 2 | Visual constancies tasks. (1) Size constancy task. Subjects were asked to adjust the height of a “test” cylinder so that it matches the “standard” cylinder’s size, which could be either on a simple grid (normal) or a perspective grid (context) background, and were instructed to make their settings as if they were measuring the cylinder with their fingers on the screen. (2) Lightness constancy task. Subjects were instructed to match the “test” patch’s luminance to the actual “standard” patch’s luminance, and were explicitly told to ignore the presence of the cast shadow (context) surrounding the standard patch, as if they were looking through a tube and seeing only the gray patch. The standard patch could be either outside a cast shadow (normal) or within it (context). (3) Amodal completion task. The task was to search for a notched square among squares and circles and report the notched square’s color (red or green). Some of the circles also had notches. In the normal (mosaic) condition, the target was far from its companion circle, as were the Pacman-like, notched distractor circles, and their companion squares. In the context condition, the notched square abutted its companion circle, and the notched circles abutted their companion squares, so that the shapes appeared completed behind the overlapping shapes. In particular, the target appeared to be a full square partially hidden behind a circle, camouflaging its notched shape.
squares (Figure 2). The subjects' task was to report the target's color as quickly and accurately as possible. When the target, the notched square, was in contact with its adjacent circle, it would appear to be a complete square partially occluded by a circle (He and Nakayama, 1992; Rensink and Enns, 1998), making it quite difficult to find among all the actually complete, distractor squares. If artists can access earlier representation of shape that would be unaffected by amodal completion the notched square should be very distinctive among all the complete squares, making it easy to find no matter how many distractors are present (parallel processing). However, if they do not have access to the raw image, each square-like shape has to be scrutinized individually to discover the notched one and the processing rate (the increase in reaction time with the number of distractors) will be quite slow.
groups, experience in visual arts ranged from 0 (novices) to 41 years.
**WHAT HAPPENED**
This section summarizes the results we found in our earlier study and details about the statistics may be found in the corresponding paper (Perdreau and Cavanagh, 2011).
In both the size and the lightness tasks, we computed the mean settings for both the context and the normal conditions and looked at the ratios of the mean CONTEXT response over the mean NORMAL response (Figure 3). All the ratios were significantly greater than 1, indicating that the subjects’ judgments were strongly affected by the visual context. Nevertheless, we found no significant differences between the groups’ ratios. In both tasks, the artists’ judgments were just as affected by the contexts as those of the non-artists. There was no effect of expertise on perception. Moreover, the correlation between the subjects’ years of experience in drawing and the context’s effect on their perceptual judgments was not significant.
Finally, to evaluate the effort put by the subject to perform the task, we analyzed their response times in the size and lightness tasks. Interestingly, we found that art students and professional artists spent significantly more time to make their judgments, taking, respectively, 15.4 and 15.9 s against 8.6 s for the non-artists in the size task, and, respectively, 11.4 and 14.3 s
---
**FIGURE 3** | Mean ratios in the three experiments. The expected performance if subject could access the proximal value (the retinal image) uncorrected by visual constancies is given by the ratio of “1” on each graph. Error bars are 95% confidence intervals. The graphs show the proximal value for the stimulus on the right at the ratio of 1 and estimates of the proximal values for size (1) and lightness (2) only. (1) **Size constancy.** There were no difference between groups and they all showed an effect of the perspective on their perceptual judgment (ratios > 1). We estimated the distal size by assuming a slant of 20° and so a distance to the cylinder of 58 cm vs. the screen’s distance of 52 cm (estimates based on derivations in Todorovic, 2002). Distal size was therefore about 21% greater than the proximal size. (2) **Lightness constancy.** Similarly, all the groups were strongly affected by the presence of the cast shadow, and artists showed no advantage in this task. Distal luminance (lightness) was estimated by adding the decrease in luminance due to the cast shadow (about 45%) onto the proximal luminance. (3) **Amodal completion.** Artists were not better or faster at accessing the proximal shape of the target (notched square). All the groups were strongly influenced (about 50% of context effect) by amodal completion triggered by the contact between the target shape and its companion circle. Even where visual artists showed a numerical (but non-significant) advantage over non-artists (2), it was far from enough to completely undo the visual constancy (ratio = 1) and so cannot fully explain the artist’s accuracy in drawings.
against 9.7 s for the non-artists in the lightness task.
In the visual search task (amodal completion), subjects’ slopes were significantly higher in the context condition than in the normal condition, indicating a strong effect of the context on the subject’s search speed. Similarly to the two other tasks, we computed ratios between the mean response time in the context and the normal conditions (Figure 3) and all of them were significantly greater than 1, showing a robust slowing of the search due to the amodal completion. We again found no significant difference between the groups indicating that artists had no better access to the raw image where the notched square would have been easy to find. Finally, the correlation between subjects’ experience and the effect of the context was not significant.
**DISCUSSION**
Our everyday perception needs to allow us to act on our environment. This requires a stable visual perception of objects that are the goals of our actions. This perceptual constancy is given by the appropriate corrections made by the visual system for changes in distance, lighting, and viewpoint (Hochstein and Ahissar, 2002; Ahissar and Hochstein, 2004), the so-called visual constancies. However, acting on the world is not the artist’s aim when he or she wants to represent it. Instead of perceiving a high-level description of the world, they need to access low-level details (lines, orientations, visual directions). One could reasonably expect that years of training in realistic visual arts might modify the functional organization of the visual system and allow artists to access these low-level, early descriptions more directly. Indeed, some studies reported that more skilled subjects in drawing outperformed novices in perceptual tasks (e.g., mental imagery, object recognition, visual search for embedded figures, and Gestalt completion (Kozbelt, 2001; Calabrese and Marucci, 2006), and that they showed a lesser influence of shape constancy in drawing and perceptual tasks (Thouless, 1932; Cohen and Bennett, 1997; Mitchell et al., 2005; Cohen and Jones, 2008). One reason for the greater accuracy of artists could be that they can access the raw image of an object, less influenced by high-level corrections. However, it remains unclear whether visual artists can really access a proximal representation, and if this access is direct or supposes some strategies to undo the visual constancies afterward. Our results (Perdreau and Cavanagh, 2011) suggest that artists have no special abilities to undo visual constancies and must deal with these automatic corrections as any normal observer would.
Specifically, all the subjects in the three experiments showed a strong effect of the context on their perceptual adjustments, ranging from 7 (size) to 50% (amodal completion) with no advantage for the artists. In one task (lightness), visual artists (students and professional) were numerically less influenced by the presence of a cast shadow in the luminance judgment, but they still showed an effect of context of at least 30%, which is far from the 0% needed for photorealistic drawing. Interestingly, in both the size and the lightness tasks, art students and professional artists spent much more time to make their setting. If visual artists were able to access an earlier, uncorrected representation of the object, this task would have been easier and faster for them than for non-artists. Our results suggested that artists could not access the standard stimulus’ property (size or luminance) directly. Moreover, because our method allowed the subjects to make continuous adjustments of the test stimulus size or luminance, it allowed them to make all the corrections they felt necessary—as they would do in a drawing task. This produced no increased accuracy in their performances, strongly suggesting that the artists’ advantage cannot be explained by perceptual factors alone. The visual search task’s results were in line with this finding, for artists showed as the same effects of context—the same slow-down for the camouflaged targets—as the non-artists. This echoes Kozbelt’s study (2001) that showed that, when predicting drawing accuracy from perceptual performances, residuals of the regression still distinguished artists from novices, suggesting that non-perceptual processes such as visuomotor skills might explain the artist’s advantage.
Although we found no perceptual advantages for artists in our experiments, earlier studies have reported some advantages. For example, a number of studies showed that skilled draftspersons outperformed novices in shape constancy tasks, a task that we did not examine (Thouless, 1932; Mitchell et al., 2005; Cohen and Jones, 2008). However, recent studies failed to replicate those findings (McManus et al., 2011; Ostrofsky et al., 2012). Nevertheless, Ostrofsky et al. (2012) did report an advantage for artists in a size constancy task where we had found none. Their artists showed a 15% effect of context vs. a 20% effect for the non-artists. Their size constancy task used more monocular cues to depth than ours (e.g., shading) and
both the standard and the test stimuli were presented within the same scene in contrast to our experimental settings. These differences may have increased the effect of context on distance perception, and this may explain some of the effect they find. Whatever its source, this decrease from 20 to 15% influence of context on size judgments in the Ostrofsky et al. study is far from the absence of effect (0%) required for veridical representation, as suggested by the authors and by Ruskin’s innocent eye hypothesis (Ruskin, 1912). However, as stated in previous studies that found a link between drawing accuracy and perceptual errors made in a visual constancy task (Mitchell et al., 2005; Cohen and Jones, 2008; Ostrofsky et al., 2012), a more likely hypothesis would be that a reduction of constancy, and not a total absence, is enough to result in a more accurate drawing.
Nevertheless, what could be the source of these discrepancies across studies? Indeed, even studies using the same method did not find similar results (e.g., Cohen and Jones, 2008; McManus et al., 2011). One possible factor is that the evaluation of drawing accuracy is often done by non-experts according to subjective criteria. A better approach would be to use more objective measurements such as geometrical and physical properties of the drawing itself (e.g., Mitchell et al., 2005; Carson et al., 2012).
If our results do not prove the absence of difference between artists’ and novices’ perceptual performances in our tasks, so that it remains plausible that artists could be less influenced by visual constancies, the results of the visual search task, however, argue against the hypothesis of a direct, veridical perception in visual artists (Ruskin, 1912). Indeed, artists’ processing time, and hence the time needed to access the target representation, were as long as that of novices. Although the better accuracy of artists in drawing is part of what makes them artists, one cannot attribute it solely to perceptual expertise. Moreover, the fact that our artist subjects took almost twice the time to perform our matching tasks (size and luminance) than our non-artists suggests that they attempted to apply some strategies to overcome the effect of visual constancies, strategies that are often part of an artist’s training. One could argue that they were more motivated by this challenge to their specialized abilities, but so, this was in vain, since they were as much affected by context as non-artists. One explanation for the veridicality of artists’ representations, of the seeming independence from visual constancies, is Gombrich’s model of schemata (Gombrich, 1960). Visual artists are like copyists: they must start with the same corrected and biased perception as anyone, but they apply it to both the scene and their drawing. They then correct progressively their sketch so that it matches the scene they are painting. This latter hypothesis is closer to descriptions of how artists work (Locher, 2010). This mode of drawing—matching the percepts in the original and on the drawing—does not make artists any better at discounting the visual constancies. Therefore, since neither approach (perceptual vs. cognitive) improved the artists’ access to the veridical retinal image, we must assume that special expertise in perception of the scene, either directly or following cognitive corrections, is not the source of artists’ accuracy.
Finally, as suggested in our earlier study (Perdreau and Cavanagh, 2011), this absence of difference between artists and non-artists could be due to the nature of our tasks. They were indeed only perceptual and might have not required mechanisms ordinarily called on during the drawing process. A recent study suggested, however, that artist’s advantage is not domain-specific but might transcend the requirements of drawing, so that artists become expert in visual cognition in general and, as such, they might outperform novices in perceptual tasks related to drawing (Glazek, 2012).
Our results suggest that the artist’s advantage is not based on a direct access to early visual representations. As an alternative, we have begun to examine whether their accuracy arises from the way they analyze and represent an object’s structure. In particular, the drawing process is never completed all at once but requires iterative processing of the stimulus as the drawing progresses. This is reflected by many eye movements alternating between the “original” and the “copy,” where the eye movement targets are highly dependent on motor constraints of the drawing hand—its current position on the drawing and where it can move next (Tchalenko and Miall, 2008; Coen Cagli et al., 2009). This may indicate that to render an object accurately, one dissects it into smaller parts for reproduction while respecting the spatial organization within and between all the object’s parts in order to capture the object’s spatial layout and proportion. Thus, our current hypothesis is that years of practice in visual arts lead artists to better encode each object’s...
structure in order to facilitate its reproduction. This is guided by a better understanding of what should be selected and encoded from the object, such as structural features (junctions or vertices, Koizbelt, 2001; Biederman and Kim, 2008; Koizbelt et al., 2010; Ostrofsky et al., 2012) and their spatial positions and relationships. Above all, this expertise needs to be optimized in a form that best guides the final motor production. The structure of the original encoding should ultimately respect the visuomotor mapping required to produce the final tracing (Seeley and Koizbelt, 2008; Tchalenko, 2009; Glazek, 2012).
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This research was supported by a Chaire d’Excellence grant to Patrick Cavanagh.
Conflict of Interest Statement: The authors declare that the research was conducted in the absence of any commercial or financial relationships that could be construed as a potential conflict of interest.
Received: 08 October 2012; accepted: 09 January 2013; published online: 31 January 2013.
Copyright © 2013 Perdreau and Cavanagh. This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License, which permits use, distribution and reproduction in other forums, provided the original authors and source are credited and subject to any copyright notices concerning any third-party graphics etc. |
Turning Art Into Mere Illustration: Concretizing Art Renders Its Influence Context Dependent
Henrik Hagtvedt and Vanessa M. Patrick
*Pers Soc Psychol Bull* 2011 37: 1624 originally published online 1 August 2011
DOI: 10.1177/0146167211415631
The online version of this article can be found at:
http://psp.sagepub.com/content/37/12/1624
Published by:
SAGE
http://www.sagepublications.com
On behalf of:
Society for Personality and Social Psychology
Additional services and information for *Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin* can be found at:
Email Alerts: http://psp.sagepub.com/cgi/alerts
Subscriptions: http://psp.sagepub.com/subscriptions
Reprints: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.nav
Permissions: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav
Citations: http://psp.sagepub.com/content/37/12/1624.refs.html
**>> Version of Record** - Nov 1, 2011
OnlineFirst Version of Record - Aug 1, 2011
What is This?
Art is special. It represents a unique category of human expression in which every known society through the ages has engaged (Dutton, 2009). It has been suggested that a schema for art has developed through the millennia of human evolution and has likely also become reinforced via historical Western associations with high culture (Averill, Stanat, & More, 1998; Hagtvedt & Patrick, 2008b). Leaders like the Egyptian pharaohs, Roman emperors, and the popes have used art for various purposes such as encouraging religious beliefs and furthering political agendas. In the current era, the use of art in such promotional endeavors is perhaps more prevalent than ever, with firms, organizations, and individuals relying on this communication tool to influence diverse audiences.
The status of art as a powerful communication tool seems so well established as to be obvious. Perhaps that is why few researchers have questioned whether its capacity to influence viewers is absolute or whether it depends on the lens through which it is viewed. A great deal of prior research has focused on the psychological experience of art (Berlyne, 1971; Silvia, 2005), but not on the circumstances under which its influence might be diminished. This is the focus of the current research. The central thesis is that when (a) the content of the artwork is emphasized or (b) the artwork is viewed at a low (concrete) level of construal (Freitas, Gollwitzer, & Trope, 2004; Vallacher & Wegner, 1989), then the artwork no longer influences viewers via its special status as art. Instead, the work is perceived as an illustration, such that its influence on viewers becomes context dependent.
Consider the following example. Imagine two individuals, X and Y, looking at an ad for a restaurant. The ad features a typical painting by Rubens, depicting what many current viewers would consider somewhat corpulent individuals. X encodes this image as art, and thus he makes inferences about the advertised restaurant based on the artistic quality of the piece, or on the status of the image as art. Conversely, Y encodes the image as an illustration, and thus he infers that the food at this restaurant is unhealthy and fattening. These inferences diverge markedly, and yet they stem from the same image.
The Influence of Artworks on Evaluation
A General Influence of Art
Recent research has established a phenomenon, dubbed the Art Infusion Effect, rooted in the “specialness” of art (Hagtvedt & Patrick, 2008b). The research demonstrates that art images have a favorable, content-independent influence on evaluation.
on individuals’ evaluations of objects, such as consumer products, associated with the art. This is done by exposing study participants to products associated with artworks via advertising, packaging, or product design. The art images have a favorable influence on product evaluation, irrespective of what is depicted in the images. For instance, in one study each participant was shown a soap dispenser with one of three images on its front face: a positively valenced art image; a positively valenced nonart image, matched for content; or a negatively valenced art image. The influence of both art images (positively and negatively valenced) on product evaluation was equally favorable, whereas the influence of the nonart image was significantly less favorable. The influence of the art images involves a spillover of general, favorable perceptions of art, presumably tied to connotations of high culture, and ultimately to the creativity and skill brought to bear on the production of artworks (Hagtvedt, Hagtvedt, & Patrick, 2008). Indeed, artworks are created to be extraordinary, beyond what is strictly necessary for mundane, functional creations. In connection with consumer products, this translates to perceptions of excellence and even luxury. In other words, artworks are special, regardless of what they depict, and associating an object with an artwork causes viewers to evaluate that object more favorably.
**Content and Manner:**
**Two Sources of Influence**
The above observations notwithstanding, extant theory suggests that a number of different factors determine how a single stimulus may be perceived and evaluated. Dual-processing accounts (De Neys, 2006; Evans, 2008; Förster & Dannenberg, 2010) suggest that the way in which stimuli are processed can determine the influence that they have. Although the Art Infusion Effect (Hagtvedt & Patrick, 2008b) appears to be based on an art-is-special heuristic, concrete processing might involve a closer inspection of what an art image actually depicts, thus giving rise to an influence tied to the content of the image. Indeed, we propose that visual art represents a special case in which two sources of influence are tied to two components of the artwork itself: the content (what is depicted) and the manner (how it is depicted).
The content of any image conveys information (DeRosia, 2008), but it is the manner that separates artworks from mere illustrations. After all, anything can be depicted in an artwork, but it is the way in which it is depicted that makes it special (Hagtvedt & Patrick, 2008b). We therefore posit that the special influence of artworks may be attenuated or eliminated simply by concretizing that which is depicted in them, thereby emphasizing the content rather than the manner. This causes the image to be encoded as a mere illustration, such that the influence of the image now depends on the fit between that which is depicted in the image and the object associated with the image. We further theorize that the mind-set of the viewer is enough to determine this role of fit. A concrete (abstract) mind-set makes salient the content (manner) of the image and results in context dependence (independence; Trope & Liberman, 2010). This latter notion is expanded on later in the article.
**The Scope of Content and Manner**
These arguments are based on the assumption that art images indeed involve both content and manner. The former refers to that which is depicted in the image, whereas the latter refers to the structuring of formal qualities, such as colors or shapes, to achieve this depiction. Therefore, purely abstract art is excluded from the argument and is outside the scope of this research, since it is per definition nonrepresentational. In other words, it has no content. Broadly speaking, the argument is valid for any representational or figurative art, but certain limitations apply. Particularly attention-grabbing content, such as extremely violent or disgusting depictions, might feasibly hinder the appreciation of manner. Similarly, if the style distorts the depicted matter to a substantial degree, this may obstruct the encoding of content. Taken to the extreme, stylistic distortions result in an artwork that communicates as an abstract image because the content is no longer intelligible to the viewer.
With the caveat of these limitations, we adopt Hagtvedt and Patrick’s (2008b) definition of art as that which is categorized by the viewers as such. After all, it is the viewers’ own perceptions that matter here, irrespective of scholarly debates about what does or does not constitute art. Further investigation into the neural underpinnings of the Art Infusion Effect also confirmed that the human brain responds differently to art and nonart images matched for content, with the former activating reward circuitry, notably the ventral striatum, to a larger degree (Lacey et al., 2011). The diversity of artworks utilized in that study suggests that untrained viewers readily distinguish art images from nonart images across a vast variety of styles and time periods, based purely on the presence of artistic manner. Although the notion of manner would appear to exclude purely conceptual works, a discussion of such works is in any case outside the scope of the current research. We selected our art images based on the criterion used by Hagtvedt and Patrick (2008a, 2008b) that they are easily recognized by the viewers as art, as established via pretests. Using the above-described guidelines, the potential pool of artworks arguably encompasses the majority of visual art created throughout history (Tansey & Kleiner, 1996). In the empirics, we further restrict our focus to a classic form of visual art, namely painting.
In the three studies that follow, we demonstrate the differential influence of art images on evaluations of associated products, depending on the salience of content versus
manner. The use of consumer products reflects common, everyday experiences, given the widespread use of art images for marketing purposes of this kind (Hetsroni & Tukachinsky, 2005; Hoffman, 2002).
**Study 1**
**Method and Procedure**
A field study was conducted to demonstrate that (a) different art images have a similar influence on the evaluation of products associated with them, regardless of the conceptual fit between the product and the content of the images (Hagtvedt & Patrick, 2008b), but (b) making the content salient leads to a differential influence on product evaluation. Two wine labels were custom made by a professional graphic artist, featuring one of two paintings by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, either *The Luncheon of the Boating Party* or *Gabrielle and Jean*. Both images were painted in the same style by the same artist, but the content of the former (vs. the latter) was pretested (7-point scale: 1 = poor fit, 7 = good fit) with 24 undergraduates as having a better fit with the product category ($M = 6.17, SD = 1.03$ vs. $M = 1.75, SD = 0.97$), $F(1, 22) = 117.49$, $p < .05$. Indeed, the former depicts diners talking and drinking wine, whereas the latter depicts a woman and child playing with toys and thus seems inappropriate for an adult beverage. Two wine bottles were thus used in the study, containing the same wine but with different labels.
We contracted a deal to have the field study conducted on weekdays during happy hour in a bar with a calm ambience and a mixed clientele. The bartender, blind to the purpose of the study, was trained by the authors to administer the study. For each participant, the bartender asked a patron if he or she would be willing to taste a wine that they were considering for the bar. This cover story was posed of the study, was trained by the authors to administer a differential influence on product evaluation. Two wine bottles were thus used in the study, containing the same wine but with different labels.
We contracted a deal to have the field study conducted on weekdays during happy hour in a bar with a calm ambience and a mixed clientele. The bartender, blind to the purpose of the study, was trained by the authors to administer the study. For each participant, the bartender asked a patron if he or she would be willing to taste a wine that they were considering for the bar. This cover story was used so that patrons would feel free to offer their honest opinion. The bartender then took one of the two wine bottles from behind the counter, and, before pouring the wine, made salient either the content or manner of the image on the wine label. This manipulation was achieved by the bartender glancing at the wine label before pouring the wine, and making one of two seemingly casual comments: either “Ah, this is the one with the people” or “Ah, this is the one with the painting.” The former statement was prettested as effective in making salient the content of the visual image (both images feature people), whereas the latter was prettested as effective in making salient the manner (both images are paintings). One of the authors was constantly present, posing as a typical patron of the bar, to observe that the bartender conducted the taste test appropriately for each participant.
A total of 60 adults (34 males, 26 females; ages 21–78; $M_{\text{age}} = 36$) participated in a 2 (fit: high vs. low) $\times$ 2 (salience: content vs. manner) between-subjects study, in which fit was manipulated with one of two wine labels and salience was manipulated with one of two statements made by the bartender. Participants viewed the wine label and tasted the wine before filling out a short questionnaire. Product evaluation was reported on five 7-point semantic differential scales (unfavorable–favorable, negative–positive, bad–good, unpleasant–pleasant, dislike very much–like very much), later combined in a product evaluation index ($\alpha = .98$).
### Results and Discussion
An ANOVA with fit and salience as the independent variables and product evaluation as the dependent variable revealed a main effect of fit, $M_{\text{high}} = 5.49, SD = 1.24$ vs. $M_{\text{low}} = 4.09, SD = 1.40$, $F(1, 56) = 20.10$, $p < .05$, partial $\eta^2 = .26$, a main effect of salience, $M_{\text{content}} = 4.37, SD = 1.63$ vs. $M_{\text{manner}} = 5.23, SD = 1.20$, $F(1, 56) = 8.21$, $p < .05$, partial $\eta^2 = .13$, and a fit $\times$ salience interaction, $M_{\text{high, content}} = 5.39, SD = 1.32$ vs. $M_{\text{low, content}} = 3.29, SD = 1.19$ vs. $M_{\text{high, manner}} = 5.60, SD = 1.18$ vs. $M_{\text{low, manner}} = 4.88, SD = 1.14$, $F(1, 56) = 4.79$, $p < .05$, partial $\eta^2 = .08$. Contrast analysis revealed significant differences between the low-fit, content salience condition and the other three conditions, but no other differences (see Table 1). Furthermore, there were no differences when gender and age were included as covariates in the analysis.
These results illustrate the theorized influence of content versus manner. In the manner salience condition, evaluations stemming from the low-fit image are equivalent to evaluations stemming from the high-fit image. However, if consumers interpret a visual image as a product-relevant illustration, then a painting of a woman and child playing with toys clearly seems inappropriate for an adult beverage like wine. In the content salience condition, an unfavorable product evaluation results from this image as compared to the image with diners, even though the participants actually tasted the same wine in both conditions. Study 1 revealed that the salience of content versus manner is easily manipulated and may be achieved even by something as unobtrusive as the seemingly casual comment of a bartender.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Table 1. Study 1: Product Evaluation</th>
<th>Content</th>
<th>M</th>
<th>SD</th>
<th>M</th>
<th>SD</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td><strong>Fit</strong></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>High</td>
<td>5.39</td>
<td>1.32</td>
<td>5.60</td>
<td>1.18</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Low</td>
<td>3.29$^*$</td>
<td>1.19</td>
<td>4.88</td>
<td>1.14</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
*Different from the other three conditions ($p < .05$).
Study 2
Method and Results
A total of 78 undergraduates participated in a lab experiment designed to replicate the results from Study 1, using a different manipulation for the salience of content versus manner. The stimulus was an advertisement for Jai Soaps (a defunct brand, pretested with 12 undergraduates as unknown for our sample population: $M = 2.20$; $1 = not at all familiar, 7 = extremely familiar) featuring one of two artworks by Jacques Louis David, either a detail of Madame Recamier or a detail of The Intervention of the Sabine Women. Both images were painted in the same style by the same artist, but the content of the former (vs. the latter) was pretested (7-point scale: $1 = poor fit, 7 = good fit) with 24 undergraduates as having a better fit with the product category, $M = 5.17, SD = 0.94$ vs. $M = 2.75, SD = 1.14, F(1, 22) = 32.23, p < .05$. Indeed, the former displays an elegant young lady relaxing on a luxurious couch, draped in what appears to be soft and clean garments, whereas the latter depicts a warrior in the midst of battle (see the appendix for the stimuli). In the content salience condition, participants were asked to rate the product on relevant product attributes (e.g., soft, smooth, soothing) before filling out the rest of the questionnaire. Participants in the manner salience condition were first asked to report product evaluation. The rationale for this manipulation was that inferences about product attributes must be made from the content of the image, thus causing the image to be viewed as a product-relevant illustration, rather than as a work of art. In the manner salience condition, the question pertaining to product attributes came later in the questionnaire, and thus it could not affect this variable.
The study was thus a 2 (fit: high vs. low) $\times$ 2 (salience: content vs. manner) between-subjects experiment. As a manipulation check for salience, participants reported the degree ($1 = not at all, 7 = definitely$) to which they viewed the image as an artwork (referring to the manner in which the image was created) rather than as a specific illustration (what is depicted in the image) about the use of Jai Soaps. Results revealed a successful manipulation, $M_{content} = 5.21, SD = 1.92$ vs. $M_{manner} = 6.02, SD = 1.32, F(1, 73) = 5.02, p < .05$. Product evaluation ($\alpha = .93$) was reported on the same scale as in the previous study. In addition, data were collected for mood, for familiarity with the visual image, and for interest in and knowledge about art. As expected, no differences were found for these variables, and they did not influence the results. Hence, they are not discussed further.
An ANOVA with fit and salience on product evaluation revealed a main effect of fit, $M_{(high)} = 4.56, SD = 1.20$ vs. $M_{(low)} = 3.90, SD = 1.41, F(1, 74) = 7.01, p < .05$, partial $\eta^2 = .09$, and a fit $\times$ salience interaction, $M_{(high, content)} = 4.70, SD = 0.98$ vs. $M_{(low, content)} = 5.21, SD = 1.37, F(1, 74) = 5.17, p < .05, partial \eta^2 = .07$. There were no significant main effects for these variables, and they did not differ between the latter three conditions (see Table 2).
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Fit</th>
<th>Content</th>
<th>M</th>
<th>SD</th>
<th>M</th>
<th>SD</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>High</td>
<td>4.70</td>
<td>0.98</td>
<td>4.56</td>
<td>1.20</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Low</td>
<td>3.28$^*$</td>
<td>1.12</td>
<td>3.90</td>
<td>1.41</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
*Different from the other three conditions ($p < .05$).
Discussion
Studies 1 and 2 demonstrate that when an art image is presented as an illustration, the influence it has on evaluations of the product associated with it depends on its contextual fit with that product. However, when the image is presented as art, contextual fit has no influence on product evaluation. Study 3 was designed to provide evidence for our theorizing that the level at which the viewer construes the visual image (abstract vs. concrete) gives rise to the differential encoding of it as either an illustration or an artwork.
Study 3
Abstract Versus Concrete Processing
In the context of their GLObal versus LOcal processing MOdel, Förster and Dannenberg (2010) review global versus local processing systems and present evidence that real-world variables can elicit either processing style. For instance, abstract versus concrete language can encourage global versus local processing, respectively (Stapel & Semin, 2007). In the current research, we demonstrate a similar finding such that calling attention to the content versus manner of artworks results in differential processing effects (Studies 1 and 2).
Recent research (Avramova & Stapel, 2008; Förster & Dannenberg, 2010; Friedman, Fishbach, Förster, & Werth, 2003) also points to evidence suggesting that perceptual focus is related to conceptual focus, such that visual focus on a percept might also drive conceptual attention. Notably, however, dual-processing perspectives (Evans, 2008; Förster & Dannenberg, 2010) have not focused on the differential...
processing of components of a single object (e.g., a visual image) and the influence this might have on the subsequent evaluation of another object (the product or brand associated with the image). In the current research, we propose that abstract (concrete) processing leads to a focus on the global (specific) information provided by that image, which subsequently influences how an associated object is evaluated.
Abstract mind-sets are associated with higher-level construals and schematic, global processing whereas concrete mind-sets are associated with lower-level construals and attribute-level, local processing with a focus on contextualized features (Liberman & Trope, 1998; Trope & Liberman, 2010; Trope, Liberman, & Wakslak, 2007). In the current context, we suggest that local processing entails a focus on particulars of the image, whereas global processing entails a focus not only on the entirety of the visual image but also on the overall category that the image represents, namely, visual art. Specifically, we argue that a concrete mind-set (pertaining to lower-level construal) is associated with specific product-related information tied to the content of a visual image, whereas an abstract mind-set (pertaining to higher-level construal) is associated with the general, schema-based inferences tied to the manner. Abstract processing thus aligns with the overall perception of the image as an artwork, whereas concrete processing aligns with the specific perception of what is depicted in the image. In sum, an abstract mind-set aligns with the influence of an “artwork as art,” whereas a concrete mind-set aligns with the influence of an “artwork as illustration.” We thus expect contextual fit between the image content and the associated product to influence the evaluations of consumers with a concrete mind-set, but not of those with an abstract mind-set.
Method and Results
A total of 141 undergraduates participated in a study in which the stimulus was an advertisement for Bellvier Nail Salon (fictitious brand) featuring one of two artworks by a contemporary Norwegian artist, either Her Volcanic Song or Impression. Both images were painted in the same style by the same artist, but the former displays the face of a woman whereas the latter displays the face of a man (see the appendix for the stimuli). The content of the former (vs. the latter) was pretested (7-point scale: 1 = poor fit, 7 = good fit) with 24 undergraduates as having a better fit with the product category, M = 5.25, SD = 1.42 vs. M = 2.17, SD = 1.11, F(1, 22) = 34.94, p < .05.
At the beginning of the study, participants completed a laddering task adapted from Freitas et al. (2004) in which participants were asked to write down the most important thing they did to keep healthy. Concrete (abstract) mind-set was induced by further asking an additional six questions in sequence about how (why) participants engaged in this activity. The how (why) questions are related to seeing concrete details (big picture) over the big picture (concrete details) and are reported to induce concrete (abstract) mind-set (Liberman & Trope, 1998; Vallacher & Wegner, 1989).
As noted above, concrete (abstract) mind-set is per our theorizing associated with a content-based (manner-based) evaluation. In addition, a control condition was added, in which participants were not subjected to a mind-set manipulation.
The study was thus a 2 (fit: high vs. low) × 3 (mind-set: concrete vs. abstract vs. no instructions control) between-subjects experiment. Participants reported brand evaluation (α = .95) on the same scale as in the previous study. As a manipulation check for mind-set, participants were asked an open-ended question at the end of the questionnaire: “What does the image in the ad convey about Bellvier Nail Salon?” Two independent coders subsequently coded these data for inferences based on the content versus the manner of the visual image and assigned one point for each reference to content and one for each reference to manner, resulting in 85% intercoder reliability. A mind-set index was created by subtracting the content scores from the manner scores, and an ANOVA with fit and mind-set on the mind-set index revealed a successful manipulation of mind-set, M_{concrete} = 0.25 vs. M_{abstract} = 0.68 vs. M_{control} = 0.65, F(2, 136) = 3.66, p < .05. No other effects were significant. This result also suggests, as expected, that the image was encoded, in the control condition as well as in the abstract condition, as an aesthetic detail (specific) information provided by that image, which subsequently influences how an associated object is evaluated. Hence, they are not discussed further. However, a two-way ANOVA on brand evaluation revealed the expected fit × mind-set interaction, M_{high, concrete} = 4.39, SD = 0.76 vs. M_{low, concrete} = 3.22, SD = 0.98 vs. M_{high, abstract} = 3.84, SD = 1.14 vs. M_{low, abstract} = 4.11, SD = 1.46 vs. M_{control} = 3.97, SD = 1.26 vs. M_{low, control} = 3.84, SD = 1.02, F(2, 135) = 4.44, p < .05, partial η^2 = .06. No other effects were significant. As expected, contrast analysis revealed a significant difference between the low-fit, concrete mind-set condition and the high-fit, concrete mind-set condition. There were no other differences (see Table 3).
General Discussion
In this research, we propose that visual art represents a special category of objects in which two sources of influence are tied to two components of the artwork: the content (what is depicted) and the manner (how it is depicted). With...
three studies, we demonstrate that the “specialness” of artwork may be diminished simply by contextualizing them (Studies 1 and 2) or causing them to be processed concretely (Study 3). In other words, an emphasis on what is depicted causes the works to be viewed as mere illustrations rather than as pieces of art. The influence of an “artwork as art” is context independent, but the influence of an “artwork as illustration” is context dependent. Furthermore, we theorize that a concrete mind-set gives rise to the salience of content and to the encoding of the artwork as a context relevant illustration, whereas an abstract mind-set gives rise to the salience of manner and to the encoding of the artwork as art. This, in turn, influences what the artwork communicates to viewers.
**Visual Components: Content and Manner**
With this research, we provide insights into visual art as a potent but underinvestigated source of influence on viewers. Indeed, art represents a unique but ubiquitous category of human behavior. Some prior research has investigated how artworks influence viewers (Berlyne, 1971; Masuda, Gonzales, Kwan, & Nisbett, 2008; Silvia, 2005), but this has typically not focused on the aspects of the artworks that underlie different influences or the circumstances under which different influences arise from the same artwork. The current research is based on the assumption that the general perceived specialness of artworks is tied to what we call artistic manner. This manner reflects the creativity and skill dedicated to the creation of the artwork. In every single known human society throughout the ages and across the globe, people have engaged in this behavior when they want to depict something, whatever that may be, in an extraordinary way (Dissanayake, 1995; Dutton, 2009). As extant research demonstrates, an art image and a nonart image can depict virtually identical content; hence, it is not the content but the manner that distinguishes these two types of images from one another (Hagtvedt & Patrick, 2008b; Lacey et al., 2011). Nonetheless, this notion remains a highly contentious issue, especially in the art world (Robertson & McDaniel, 2010). For instance, the display of works labeled conceptual art in many galleries and museums implies that manner need not even be a necessary consideration in artworks. Furthermore, although the vast majority of artworks, across both geographical areas and historical time periods, do appear to exhibit readily discernible artistic manner (Tansey & Kleiner, 1996), there is no self-evident reason to assume that the salience of such manner may be readily manipulated to engender favorable evaluations of objects associated with the artworks. It is also far from obvious that one may eliminate this favorable influence of manner simply by shifting the viewer’s focus to the content of the image. After all, both content and manner are simultaneously present in the art image. Indeed, given that manner constitutes the formal building blocks with which content is depicted, it is impossible to fully disentangle one from the other in any representational image. This is true whether the image be a neoclassical piece that dazzles viewers with sheer realism and technical virtuosity, a modern piece that intrigues with raw, wild brush strokes, or a commonplace image without evident note. Therefore, the current research contributes not only to a deeper understanding of how art images communicate in everyday contexts such as advertising or product design but also to philosophy of art and to a fundamental understanding of the components that comprise art images.
**Art Images, Associated Objects, and Contextual Considerations**
Art images are used as a tool in various types of communication. The current research provides insights into how artworks influence the perception of other associated objects. The use of consumer products in this research reflects common, everyday experiences, given the prevalent use of artworks for marketing purposes of this kind (Hetsroni & Tukachinsky, 2005). Indeed, reproductions of art images reach more people more often through advertising than through any other medium (Hoffman, 2002). However, without an adequate understanding of the various influences that such images have, the resulting consumer response is uncertain. As the current research shows, not only may the same image be perceived differently by different consumers, but it may even be perceived differently by the same consumer, depending on the circumstances. This clearly complicates the strategic use of art images in marketing efforts.
Some specific, practical implications may be gleaned from the current research. Although it is arguably of obvious importance to consider the content of the visual image and the brand-related information communicated by that content, this research indicates that the less obvious consideration of manner may be at least as important. In cognitively
---
**Table 3. Study 3: Product Evaluation**
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Mind-Set</th>
<th>Concrete</th>
<th></th>
<th>Abstract</th>
<th></th>
<th>Control</th>
<th></th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>$M$</td>
<td>$SD$</td>
<td>$M$</td>
<td>$SD$</td>
<td>$M$</td>
<td>$SD$</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>High</td>
<td>4.39</td>
<td>0.76</td>
<td>3.84</td>
<td>1.14</td>
<td>3.97</td>
<td>1.26</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Low</td>
<td>3.22a</td>
<td>0.98</td>
<td>4.11</td>
<td>1.46</td>
<td>3.84</td>
<td>1.02</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
*Different from the high-fit, concrete mind-set condition ($p < .05$).
demanding situations, such as cluttered retail environments, or in connection with TV, magazines, or urban street advertising, where innumerable visuals bombard consumers and compete for their attention, a manner-based evaluation becomes all the more important, since it relies on an art-is-special heuristic rather than the detail-oriented processing of content. Furthermore, the manner-based evaluation is less sensitive to contextual fit, and thus it may be relied on across a wide variety of circumstances. Notably, although manner may be useful to convey a general favorable impression of a brand, content may be more useful to convey specific information about product attributes.
Future research may expand on the current findings by investigating the influence of artworks on the perception and evaluation of other types of products than the ones used here. Haghtvedt and Patrick’s (2008a, 2008b) research indicates that the favorable influence of artworks extends not only to high end products but also to lower end products such as ordinary soap dispensers, bathroom fittings, and dinnerware. However, it seems likely that a number of products have valued connotations that would be diluted by an association with fine art. For instance, products that promote an image of ruggedness may not benefit from this association. Even more interestingly, such products might benefit from an association with an offensive art image, but only if connotations of sophistication and exclusivity tied to artistic manner are avoided. Future research might also investigate whether the effects of art are different in categories other than consumer products. For instance, would art images on the walls of banks, hospitals, and schools influence perceptions of these institutions, their mission, and their personnel in a manner similar to the one demonstrated in the current research? Furthermore, the effects of the context in which the art is presented may depend on a number of other variables, ranging from general ambience to the viewer’s mood (Avramova, Stapel, & Lerouge, 2010). Indeed, a variable such as mood may also be influenced by the art image being viewed, thus complicating the relationship between the image and the context in which it appears. Mood may also be primed by variables such as ambience, and semantic primes could arise from the context (Henderson & Wakslak, 2010; Storbeck & Robinson, 2004), which in turn might influence how the image is interpreted. Future research may disentangle a number of factors, not captured by the basic notions presented and supported in the current research, involved in the influence of art images on associated objects.
**The Role of Style Elements**
Another issue pertains to the possible influences stemming from stylistic differences in artistic manner. Although extant research indicates that viewers are typically able to recognize artistic manner per se, despite a vast variety of stylistic differences (Lacey et al., 2011), it seems likely that such stylistic differences could nonetheless result in specific influences on viewers. Future research may investigate the influence of specific style elements, such as brush strokes, textures, or color use, perhaps in combination with specific elements of content, on viewers’ perceptions and evaluations of both the artworks and associated objects. For instance, the influence of Frank Auerbach’s impasto is likely to differ from that of Leonardo da Vinci’s glazing, even if they both painted the same portrait. Furthermore, the question arises as to whether a concrete mind-set encourages only a focus on content or if it might also draw attention to specific style elements. Such deconstruction seems especially likely for viewers who work as artists or otherwise have much experience in art appreciation, so perhaps individual differences play a role in this regard. Similarly, content may also trigger various associations and suggest interpretations that go beyond that which is literally depicted. Future research may uncover elements of content that are likely to lead to broader and more allegorical thinking, perhaps in combination with specific style elements, as well as investigate the role that processing style might play in this influence.
**Beyond Art Images**
It should further be noted that the current perspective of content and manner may be extended to other types of visual images than the ones utilized here. For instance, cartoons could depict any imaginable content, but the manner of cartoons might have its own particular influence on consumer perceptions and judgments. Indeed, the relevance of the current research extends beyond the realm of visual images as well. A classic category of art images, namely, representational paintings, was used in this research, because this facilitated the distinction between content and manner. However, content and manner are arguably present in any visual image, and indeed in any aesthetic object that also expresses, via its form, some type of function and/or symbolism. For instance, a car may have a general, aesthetic appeal based on manner, but it may also have specific, recognizable elements that signal speed, power, fun, fuel efficiency, environmental friendliness, or the like because the elements that communicate such specific properties are shaped to emulate forms found in nature. The influences of content and manner in objects other than visual images constitute an interesting avenue for future research.
Appendix
Stimuli for Studies 2–3
High-Fit Stimulus for Study 2
Low-Fit Stimulus for Study 2
High-Fit Stimulus for Study 3
Low-Fit Stimulus for Study 3
Authors’ Note
This research is based on the first author’s dissertation, chaired by the second author.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
References
|
Heikinheimo, Marianna
**Paimio Sanatorium under Construction**
*Published in:*
Arts
*DOI:*
10.3390/arts7040078
Published: 01/12/2018
*Document Version*
Publisher's PDF, also known as Version of record
*Please cite the original version:*
https://doi.org/10.3390/arts7040078
Abstract: Alvar Aalto created innovative architecture in his breakthrough work, Paimio Sanatorium, located in Southwestern Finland and designed between 1928 and 1933. This empirical case study looked at the iconic piece of architecture from a new angle by implementing the actor-network theory (ANT). The focus was on how the architecture of the sanatorium came to be. A detailed description of the chronology and administration of the building process enabled observing on the role of the agency of the architect. The study surveyed the cooperation, collaboration, and decision making of the agency during the construction period. The first part of this paper focused on the relations and conditions of producing the sanatorium and analyzed the building through drawings and archive material; the second part linked to the actor-network theory of Bruno Latour and included a discussion on how Aalto managed to bring along the other actors. The study clearly showed the importance of a collaborative effort in a building project. The most special architectural solutions for Paimio Sanatorium, a demanding institutional building project, came into being in circumstances where the architect managed to create a viable network that merged collective competence with material factors.
Keywords: Alvar Aalto; Modernism; Paimio Sanatorium; Finland; Bruno Latour; actor-network theory; history of technology; history of architecture; building history
1. Introduction
Alvar Aalto created innovative architecture in his breakthrough work, Paimio Sanatorium, located in Southwestern Finland and designed between 1928 and 1933 (Figures 1 and 2). His fellow Siegfried Giedion canonized the sizeable institutional building by evaluating it as one of the three most important of the inter-war period in the extended edition of the Time, Space and Architecture (Giedion [1941] 1949).
This empirical case study was an attempt to look at the iconic piece of architecture from a new angle by implementing the actor-network theory (ANT) to architectural research. The focus was on how the architecture of the sanatorium came to be. A detailed description of the chronology and administration of the building process by using archive material enabled observation on the role of the agency of the architect. The paper surveyed the cooperation, collaboration, and decision making of the agency of the architect. The focus was on the construction period, between the initial design stage and the completed building project. The first part of this paper focused on the relations and conditions of producing the sanatorium and analyzed the building through drawings and archive material; the second part linked to the actor-network theory of Bruno Latour and included a discussion on how Aalto managed to bring along the other actors.
This study attempted to mobilize ANT to discuss the relationship between architecture and technology. Architecture as an applied form of art expresses itself symbolically. A building is a
“resulting construct of many heterogeneous ingredients, a long process, many trades and subtle coordination necessary to achieve such a result” (Latour 2003, p. 87). It also forms a framework for solving practical problems and is concurrent with architecture (Colquhoun 1962). Hence, both architecture and a building designs are inevitably cultural objects, tied to time and place.
Aalto drew influences from the culturally-radical Modernist discourse during the sanatorium design period and got an invitation to join CIAM in 1929. He aimed to incorporate the international intellectual culture into his professional domain (Pelkonen 2003, p. 9). Since the beginning of his career, Aalto was an active writer. Even so, CIAM made a profound impact on Aalto as he now became acquainted with the already renowned ideologists such as Walter Gropius and Le Corbusier. Aalto started domesticating new concepts both in the architectural media and in the daily press in his home country. Also, his style of life, which he brought up in some articles, emphasized modernity. Through these actions, he became considered a spokesperson for the new Continental architecture trends in Finland in the turn of the 1930s.
Certain technological systems in construction, such as the concrete frame, electricity, air conditioning, and lifts, developed rapidly in the inter-war period in Europe, and architects faced new challenges. The areas of expertise of engineers and architects began to differ from each other. However, architects still held the position of top experts in the major building projects.
The client of the Paimio Sanatorium project, the Federation of Municipalities of Southwestern Finland, had set a Building Board and Building Committee to take care of the decision-making processes during the construction period. Aalto became a specialist member of these decision-making bodies and a supervisor of the highest rank. Additionally, his agency signed a contract for the architectural and interior design work. In this dominant role, Aalto also contracted some of the notable specialist engineers and manufacturers directly. In some cases, the designing engineers became part of the process through contractors.
In the 1930s, Aalto had promoted the project vigorously in the architectural press. Aalto’s articles and design efforts revealed his areas of interest, whereas the close reading of the minutes of the Building Board and Building Committee meetings of the project exposed the critical questions that caused debates. These two matters shaped the direction of this study.
Few researchers of architecture have mobilized actor-network theory. Latour himself, together with architecture professor Albena Yanneva, co-edited an article dealing with the problem of buildings looking desperately static. Their article aimed to make visible the movement of architecture, meaning the view of a structure as a series of transformations. They also made a point on “the Euclidean space of drawings being a subjective and knowledge-centered way of grasping entities, which does no justice to the ways humans and things get by in the world.” (Latour and Yanneva 2008). The Norwegian design historian and professor Kjetil Fallan made several essential distinctions in his discussion of the potential of ANT in architectural research. He summarised that the most apparent site for action in architecture is in planning, design, and construction, and the other would be architecture in use and mediation (Fallan 2008, pp. 81, 93). The Swedish architect professor Mattias Kjärrholm has pointed out the duality of spatial artifacts, such as buildings, in his dissertation. Spatial objects can be seen both as networks or actants. In the first case, they are outcomes of translations made within a system of actors. In the second one, they have an active role for example in shaping social processes (Kjärrholm 2004, pp. 124–54; Fallan 2008, pp. 84–87). Similar remarks of the dual roles of architecture have been made by other scholars of architectural history and theory, only outside the framework of the ANT (e.g., Adams 2008, p. xvii; Forty 1984, pp. 61–93). Kjärrholm also criticised Latour’s preoccupation of controversies as the location of dynamics and suggested that ANT could be a helpful perspective to study the ordinary (Kjärrholm 2004, p. 152; Fallan 2008, pp. 84–85). Latour’s research fellow Michael Callon’s term translation focuses on the communication strategies in the construction of facts and artifacts (Callon 1986). The concept has inspired the Norwegian political scientist, professor Marianne Ryghaug, in her study of green architecture. She could provide detailed knowledge of the values and actions of architects in design and building projects. She has also pointed
out some outcomes of less successful translations (Ryghaug 2002; Fallan 2008, p. 86). The Swedish professor in architectural history and theory Claes Caldenby recently emphasized the need to consider architecture and engineering alongside with the humanities and social sciences in the research of construction history in Nordic countries.
2. Producing the Sanatorium
2.1. The Reinforced Concrete Frame
Full structural systems of reinforced concrete were not commonplace in public buildings in the early 1930s in Finland. Aalto’s articles revealed his deep engagement in working with the relatively new material (See for example Aalto 1928, 1933). The winning competition entry of the Paimio Sanatorium project embraced reinforced concrete structures and was one of the first distinctly Modernist winners of any architectural competition in Finland. The tectonic challenge was sublime for a young architect (Figure 3). As architects were not trained to make the structural calculations, Aalto needed to find a skillful collaborator in the extensive sanatorium project. Aalto convinced the Building Board to contract an independent expert as a structural designer. Allowing the contractor to make the structural calculations was a more widespread practice at that time.
The previous joint projects of Aalto and the construction designer Emil Henriksson had been successful. The professional respect must have been mutual, as Aalto’s innovative projects had allowed Henriksson to show his skills and present the outcomes in the media. Henriksson’s article on steel concrete slabs without beams showed pride in their collective work on the Turun Sanomat newspaper building (Henriksson 1927). Henriksson, in turn, was well connected in the business circles of Turku, where Aalto had only recently moved. The influential contractor Arvi Ahti was Henriksson’s business partner, and they had collaborated on several major developments in Turku. Moreover, the men were brothers-in-law.
Figure 3. The patient wing building site in autumn 1930. The A-wing pillars on the external wall line were cast in situ and protected by a bricklayer. Photographer Alvar Aalto or Aino Marsio-Aalto. Photo No. 50-003-079. Alvar Aalto Museum. Used by permission.
Aalto’s agency contracted Henriksson in May 1930 directly, after the Building Board had approved a budget for the work. It is possible that Henriksson had consulted Aalto already during the competition 18 months earlier. The contract tender round followed some weeks after contracting the designer.
In May 1930, the Building Board published a call for tenders, and received nine bids of the construction of the reinforced concrete skeleton. It decided to base its decision on the most economical price and started negotiations with three contractors. A contractor who shared the third place was left out of the talks. Tektor, a significant company, had made the most economical bid. In the contract negotiations, which Aalto led, it came out that Tektor had not taken into account the masonry work of the chimney and would need to raise the bid. Still, Tektor’s revised proposal was the least expensive and the Board decided to accept it. At this point, the building contractor and master builder Arvi Ahti, whose bid had been placed fifth, informed that he had made a mistake in his calculations by including the masonry work, and was interested in lowering the price. The Committee considered that Ahti’s announcement did not lead to further measures. Aalto continued the negotiations with Tektor until it turned out that the concrete work of the rear wall of the sun balcony was not included in their bid as it was only presented in Aalto’s final drawings. The minutes do not reveal whether Aalto presented new plans at this point. When no agreement was reached, the negotiations ended. Finally, the Board accepted Ahti’s proposal, as it was feasible in their view (Heikinheimo 2016, pp. 174–81).
The construction of the reinforced concrete frame commenced and was completed in November. The frame construction was based on architectural drawings, work specification, and structural drawings, which were made after the contract was signed. Henriksson’s design work proceeded simultaneously with the molding of the reinforced concrete frame. Aalto and Henriksson supervised the work as fully authorized representatives of the client (Heikinheimo 2016, pp. 174–81).
The Building Board did not debate the fact that the reinforced concrete frame exceeded its budget quite substantially. After all, Aalto’s solution, which allowed sunlight to flood deep into the building frame, appealed to the medical experts. He used section drawings to show medical experts how rays of sun reached the farthest corner within the structure (Figure 4). As Aalto had succeeded in first persuading the medical specialist of the superiority of his concrete frame design, the lay members of the Building Board voiced no doubts on this issue. The solution became consolidated. Interestingly, another illustration exemplifies the architectural intention of making a cutting-edge structural solution; in other words, another aspect of the same design (Figure 5).
2.2. The Horizontal Health Window
The patient room windows were an essential and salient architectonic feature in the sanatorium for the legislator. A new Act which guaranteed 50 percent state financing to public sanatorium projects came into force in 1930, and the Paimio Sanatorium, officially the Sanatorium of South-Western Finland, was one of the first ones to receive this subsidy. The patient room window design underwent a complete overhaul and changed from a steel window to a hybrid wood and metal window. Aalto also developed the window as a holistic concept from the competition phase onwards. Aalto’s approach was comprehensive, and he integrated both the heating and ventilation systems into the solution. The floor-reaching structure also allowed for amounts of daylight, benefiting the patient. In Aalto’s words, the patient room window had the following characteristics, among others: “Morning sun on the patients’ beds; afternoon sun on the front part of the room, in front of the window. Double-glazed windows in wood with L-shaped frames, with permanent ventilation through glass panes with vertical openings. Exposure to the sun can be adjusted using external blinds . . . ” (Aalto 1932a, p. 80). In the same article, Aalto discussed the idea of continuous ventilation, albeit the timber-framed window was not designed to be kept continuously open in Finnish weather conditions. With this rhetorical gesture, he wanted to demonstrate his expertise in the overlapping trends in healthcare and architecture.
Arts 2018, 7, x; doi: FOR PEER REVIEW 6 of 19
Figure 4. Aalto could convince the skeptic medical experts of the quality of his design by using a section drawing. In the diagram, sun rays penetrate deep into the building frame of the B-wing and leave no dark corners. As sunlight and fresh air were part of the cure for lung tuberculosis patients, Aalto’s solution seemed a purpose-built concept. Drawing No. 50-764. Alvar Aalto Museum. Used by permission.
Figure 5. The perspective drawing illustrates Aalto’s architectural intention, a new kind of hanging reinforced concrete slab of the dining hall. The wall of the mezzanine floor facing the dining hall was composed of glass, which made the structure look cantilevered, floating and weightless. Drawing No. 50-226 detail. Alvar Aalto Museum. Used by permission.
Aalto was more interested in using industrially-produced, shallow-profile steel windows than standard wooden windows (Figure 6a,b and Figure 7). In the early stages of the work, the Building Board had agreed on the use of steel windows on the condition that they were Finnish. However, Finns needed to import the steel profiles, and in the recession of the early 1930s, the public projects had to favor the local production and workforce. For this reason, Aalto never invited tenders from
window manufacturers abroad, whose products he had used in his former work. Made-to-order steel windows manufactured in Finland out of imported profiles too expensive. When the final decision was made not to equip the patient rooms with steel windows, Aalto developed a new type of wooden window that employed some steel profiles. The window resembled remotely a traditional ventilation window, known as the “health window,” only this time it was horizontal in orientation.
Figure 6. (a) The vignette image of the competition-stage asymmetrical design in 1929 depicts the first version of the patient room window. Detail of drawing No. 50-655, the drawing has been cropped. AAM; (b) One step later in the design process, the standard drawing shows that the bottom edge of the window section was level. The architect also changed the shape of the floor so that it curved upwards near the window. Visually the window reached the floor. Drawing 50-395; the drawing has been cropped. Alvar Aalto Museum. Used by permission.
Figure 7. The working drawing shows the realized version of the patient room window. T-profiles supported the two mullions of the middle row of the nine-section window. In the top and bottom rows, the mullion ran through the structure. Drawing No. 50-321. The drawing has been edited. Alvar Aalto Museum. Used by permission.
The medical specialists of the sanatorium project preferred health windows, which architects had used in schools, hospitals, and other public buildings since the mid-19th century. By reiterating this concept and defining his window as a “health window,” Aalto managed to affirm the opinion of medical experts. Aalto’s unusual window design required the use of a few steel components, which entitled him to talk about an innovation and a hybrid. The material hybrid was, for Aalto, a conceptual victory over a traditional wooden window. Inventing a new concept made the solution interesting to the profession of architects. The media was a must-win battle for an architect wanting to position himself as an avant-gardist. The Spanish-American architectural theorist Beatriz Colomina found in her study that the production of architecture shifted from the building site to the immaterial domain of the media (Colomina [1994] 1998, pp. 14–15). The Paimio example showed that Aalto consciously used media to mediate his understanding of architecture.
While the final window was not ideal from the architect’s perspective, it is likely to have been an acceptable compromise. Doctors had requested that the unsymmetrical steel windows not be to reach to floor level for reasons of hygiene. Aalto changed the windows accordingly so that the bottom edge of all window sections was level (Figure 6b). He also changed the shape of the floor so that it curved upwards. Visually, the window reached the floor in the realized version. The solution fulfilled the hygienic standards of the doctors, and the architect could preserve some essential design features. This example is illustrative of how designers work: Aalto reframed the problem and found an unexpected new solution, which combined seemingly different starting points. The case also showed the unpredictability of the evolution of technological solutions—at the beginning of a design project, it is impossible to know the outcome. Besides, without understanding how things came to be, the final artifact, in this case, the window, gives no clues to the process of which they are the result (Figures 6–8). We need to look profoundly to the process to unveil the motives.
Figure 8. The window looked like a traditional double-glazed system, but was materially a hybrid combining wood and metal. Also, the horizontality of the ventilation system was unusual. Photo No. 50-003-360. Alvar Aalto Museum. Used by permission.
2.3. The Integrated Patient Room
When taking a look at the patient room, the overall design comes across as a most harmonious one. One is tempted to think that the Building Board commissioned Aalto for the interior design, including all its parts. However, close reading of the archive material revealed that this is not the case. For example, the client split the furniture purchases into parts with no holistic idea (Table 1). This chapter disclosed Aalto’s tactics used to bring about the coherent whole.
The concept of “minimum apartment” inspired Aalto to study the needs of the patients in this hospital project. In line with the Fordian ethos, Aalto was conscious of the role of the users of health care services, the patient-consumers, and placed them in his design focus. Therefore, Aalto’s creation was socially more radical than other Finnish hospitals built in the same period. His original solutions created a sense of individuality to enrich the everyday environment in an empathetic manner.
In the small room of two patients, making space-saving design solutions was necessary. Aalto multiplied the available space by design: he used multi-function artifacts such as the bedside lamps, and objects that overlap spatially, such as the bedside table. In short, he approached the small dwelling as a holistic problem. He also created several standard drawings related to the patient room. Again, the harmonious image of the furnished hospital room tells nothing of the process that preceded the result (Figures 8 and 9).
Table 1. Patient room furnishings.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Furniture</th>
<th>Built-in Furniture Commissioned from the Architect</th>
<th>Loose Furniture Commissioned from the Architect</th>
<th>Loose Furniture Purchased Standard</th>
<th>Chair Purchased Standard</th>
<th>Manufacturer</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>The wardrobes (Figure 10)</td>
<td>×</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas ¹</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The table (Figure 10)</td>
<td>×</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas ¹</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The bedside table & cupboards (Figures 9 and 11)</td>
<td>×</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas ¹</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The bed (Figures 9 and 12)</td>
<td>×</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>August Louhen rautasänkytehdas ¹</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The chair (Figure 13)</td>
<td>×</td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td></td>
<td>Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas ¹</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
¹ The two companies, Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas, and August Louhen rautasänkytehdas (The Steel Bed factory of August Louhi), were collaborators among them and with Alvar Aalto already before the Paimio Sanatorium project.
Aalto was responsible for purchasing the furnishings of the hospital. He divided the furniture into four classes in the acquisition programme. Only some of these categories were part of the design remit of Aalto’s office. The Building Board’s aimed at an appropriate and economic result. In principle, it was not interested in an artistically-coherent whole. In the spirits of the Frankfurt housing schemes, Aalto was keen to realize the patient room, including the tiniest of details.
When taking a look at the patient room, the overall design comes across as a most harmonious one. One is tempted to think that the Building Board commissioned Aalto for the interior design, including all its parts. However, close reading of the archive material revealed that this is not the case. For example, the client split the furniture purchases into parts with no holistic idea (Table 1). This chapter disclosed Aalto’s tactics used to bring about the coherent whole.
The concept of “minimum apartment” inspired Aalto to study the needs of the patients in this hospital project. In line with the Fordian ethos, Aalto was conscious of the role of the users of health care services, the patient-consumers, and placed them in his design focus. Therefore, Aalto’s creation was socially more radical than other Finnish hospitals built in the same period. His original solutions created a sense of individuality to enrich the everyday environment in an empathetic manner.
In the small room of two patients, making space-saving design solutions was necessary. Aalto multiplied the available space by design: he used multi-function artifacts such as the bedside lamps, and objects that overlap spatially, such as the bedside table. In short, he approached the small dwelling as a holistic problem. He also created several standard drawings related to the patient room. Again, the harmonious image of the furnished hospital room tells nothing of the process that preceded the result (Figures 8 and 9).
**Figure 9.** A newly completed patient room is harmonious and holistically designed. Photo No. 50-003-361. Alvar Aalto Museum. Used by permission.
**Figure 10.** The wardrobe and the fixed table photographed in the museum room of the sanatorium in 2015. Photo Ark-byroo Architects. Used by permission.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Furniture</th>
<th>Built-in</th>
<th>Commissioned from the Architect</th>
<th>Loose Furniture</th>
<th>Commissioned from the Architect</th>
<th>Loose Furniture</th>
<th>Purchased</th>
<th>Standard Manufacturer</th>
</tr>
</thead>
</table>
| Wardrobes | × Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas 1
| Table | × Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas 1
| Bedside table & cupboards | × Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas 1
| Bed | × August Louhen rautasänkytehdas 1
| Chair | × Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas 1
1 The two companies, Huonekalu- ja rakennustyötehdas, and August Louhen rautasänkytehdas (The Steel Bed factory of August Louhi), were collaborators among them and with Alvar Aalto already before the Paimio Sanatorium project.
Figure 11. The bedside table and cupboard. Photo Ark-byroo Architects. Used by permission.
Figure 12. The bed design was more nuanced than the realized version, which is visible in Figure 5 on page 7. Drawing 50-182. Alvar Aalto Museum. Used by permission.
Aalto showed great creativity in mobilizing his social networks and physical means. Therefore, for instance, the manufacture of the model wardrobes for the patient rooms at Huonekalupunkit. By maneuvering the purchasing processes, he was able to support his intentions by always invoking the lowest price from the preferred manufacturers. Aalto knew the rules, and it was his job to invite tenders. In addition to this position and the resources of his architectural office, he also formed part of many local collaborative networks, which had taken shape during previous projects.
The Building Board’s aim was an appropriate and economic result. In the remit of Aalto’s office. The expertise of the architectural agency and the hospital specialists of the State Medical Board, who played an essential role in the stabilizing of the design solution, was of general nature. As the different ways out of the district schemes, Aalto was keen to realize the patient room, including the tiniest of details.
Realizing the holistic design required a great deal of effort from the architect from these starting points. By maneuvering the purchasing processes, he was able to support his intentions by always invoking the lowest price from the preferred manufacturers. Aalto knew the rules, and it was his job to invite tenders. In addition to this position and the resources of his architectural office, he also formed part of many local collaborative networks, which had taken shape during previous projects. Therefore, for instance, the manufacture of the model wardrobes for the patient rooms at Huonekaluja Rakennustyötehdas (the Furniture and Building Work Factory) was completed in record time.
Aalto’s underlying strategy was to launch his furniture into serial production—something that previous research had already suggested, and the present study further confirmed (See for example Standertskjöld 1992a, 1992b). In Paimio, Aalto aimed to use standardized products for hospital purchases, and at the same time to design the very standards. Regulated products by other manufacturers were available, but they did not pass muster with Aalto. His likely motive was to introduce his designs into serial production and get continuous income from manufacturing industries.
2.4. The District Infrastructure
On the timeline, the building design preceded the composition of district systems, including heating, water, sewage and electricity. No engineers with knowledge of these rapidly evolving fields participated in the early, decisive stages of the project. The expertise of the architectural agency and the hospital specialists of the State Medical Board, who played an essential role in the stabilizing of the design solution, was of general nature. As the different ways out of the district systems were not assessed in the early stages of the building project, later no real alternatives existed.
None of the stakeholders demanded that the installation systems be designed concurrently with the architectural design. As a result, the knowledge of different specialists was not at the disposal of the architect until the construction had progressed to execution.
The Building Board had initially requested offers on water, sewage, and heating systems, without a reference plan. The poorly-prepared first contracting round resulted in non-comparable bids and no contract. Instead, the Building Board commissioned a program for the water, sewage, and heating systems from one of the contractors. The second round of tendering was useful as it was based on the plan. However, another company, Plumbing Company Onninen, got the contract. Collaboration between the architect and Radiator, who designed the water, sewage, and heating systems, had been productive (Figure 14). In turn, the poor cooperation between Aalto and Onninen resulted in excess billing about many details, such as the water traps for the washbasins and spittoons in the patient rooms. The architect seemed to have lost his interest in developing this area any further when he needed to work with a partner without mutual understanding. No new ideas emerged, and the focus was on performance only.
Interestingly, the electrical installations, which saw a rapid improvement in the early 1900s, were not of interest to Aalto in this project, except for the light fittings and lifts. However, Aalto was sensitive to the architectural use of light (Norvasuo 2009). Another unusual detail is that the ventilation design quietly emerged as part of the heating plan. Nobody specifically designed it. Although Aalto was aware of the division of Europe into town and country (Aalto 1932b), in the Paimio project, he did not grasp the potential of district systems. Perhaps he had not personally seen any real examples of the architectural treatment of infrastructure systems. The one-year delay of the overall schedule was unfortunately due to the prevailing confusion in the design of the district systems.
It was more natural for Aalto to treat the installation technology—the water, sewage, heating, ventilation, and electrical systems—on the same scale as the patient room, rather than on that of the entire building or district. The resolution of the question of installation systems on the level of the building or the area created difficulties, mainly because the client assumed that the architect would be able to plan the building-level solutions on his own from the very beginning of the design process,
and without input from experts or discussion of the options to hand. In other words, the architect received no specialist support in this area until a later stage of the process. There was no readiness to identify any alternative ways of organising the installation systems until some of the decisions had already been made, thus reducing the remaining options. The installation systems, as distinct systems, were therefore developed for the building, without any architectonic treatment based on mutual interaction, except for a few isolated cases of collaboration.
3. Mobilizing ANT
3.1. Creating Hybrid Networks
As the “captain” of his team, Aalto took an active role in the contracting negotiations of the sanatorium project. He clearly understood the weight of collaboration.
He managed to contract partners that worked well together in the demanding task of erecting the reinforced concrete structure. It was not simple to create the cooperation pattern. Aalto needed to maneuver and stretch the limits of the integrity of the building project to gain his goals. He succeeded in bringing in some of his trusted partners, but as a consequence, he lost some of the Building Board’s trust.
Aalto, with his architectural vision; Henriksson, with his understanding of reinforced concrete structures; Ahti, with his track record as a builder of concrete structures; and reinforced concrete as the material, formed a network that was capable of action. The process was carried out as a joint undertaking by the three specialists, in good spirits and according to schedule, producing an impressive tectonic outcome. The operation succeeded in integrating knowledge of the material into the architectural expression.
A design benefits from inspiring ideas that are tested and subsequently adjusted. The story of Paimio Sanatorium also revealed that the water, sewage, and heating pipe systems, alongside the electrical and ventilation installations, were relatively new to Aalto, and he could not manage their design without input from specialists.
Action, according to ANT, is taken by a hybrid network consisting of both social and material actants. In architecture, an engineer’s knowledge of how a material behaves, and an architect’s understanding of its character, are both essential ingredients in architectural creation. Latour’s abstract thinking embodies the idea of general symmetry, in which the object is an active entity participating in the construct. According to Latour, the effect is not one-directional.
In line with the theme of reciprocity, this study discussed how the current material reality affected the design solution. For example, the Building Board was convinced of the demanding nature of the realization of the reinforced concrete frame and the imperative of a collaborative process, since it went on to select only the fifth-lowest quote. A reinforced concrete building represented new technology, which resulted in more challenging decision-making. However, the Building Board never once questioned the feasibility of the reinforced concrete frame or the final price, which exceeded the budget by 40 percent.
Latour’s view that a project will never amount to anything if its idea remains pure is also fascinating from the perspective of architecture, as it is totally opposite to le Corbusier’s thinking (Colomina [1994] 1998). For Latour, a plan can only materialise if it is exposed to and intermingles with other elements. Only when the resulting artifact becomes unquestionably established, so that this synthesis is forgotten, can an idea be perceived as “pure.” When examining the relationship between architecture and technology, sticking to the sphere of ideas purely would mean forgetting about the collaboration and the materiality.
3.2. On the Locality of Knowledge
The set of Paimio Sanatorium standard drawings can be interpreted through Latour’s theory of the locality of scientific knowledge (Latour 1993). First, Alvar Aalto insisted on including standard
drawings among the working drawings in his design contract. It was somehow necessary for him to establish the concept of the standard to the client, as the idea was, in this context, in all likelihood entirely new for the latter. The architect created many standard drawings in conjunction with the design work for Paimio Sanatorium; a practice that the contract thus legitimised, and which he had already earlier started.
Aalto’s intention behind this course of action was to bring an exciting phenomenon, the task of developing a universal solution to a design problem, into his own designer’s studio and under his scrutiny. Latour has described Pasteur’s socially successful method in parallel terms. In this way, he, the scientist, could control the circumstances before taking the findings out of the laboratory. In Pasteur’s case, it was essential to reproduce the laboratory practices outside the laboratory in favorable, still half-controlled circumstances to show the desired results. In Aalto’s case, the next step was to take the designs out from the studio to a trusted producer, not just any manufacturer.
Neither Pasteur or Aalto could know in advance if their invention would work in circumstances they did not fully control. In Aalto’s case, entering large-scale industrial production would have been the ideological climax. Latour’s thesis of the locality of knowledge and knowledge management seemed to be highly accurate in the Paimio Sanatorium (Latour [1982] 1999, pp. 141–70, especially p. 167).
3.3. The Hidden Collective
During the Paimio years, Aalto was in constant interaction with CIAM. He became an ambassador for the international scientific design methodology in Finland. He was, for example, rapid to apply his learnings of the 1929 CIAM conference in Helsinki to an exhibition called “The Dwelling for Minimum Existence” held in 1930. Albeit the Paimio project was socially innovative in many aspects, Aalto’s writings were not as radical as, for example, the Czech Karol Teige’s, who advocated for a collaborative design method (See for instance Teige 2001; Mumford 2000, p. 53).
Aalto himself first promoted the Paimio project and his other designs in the Finnish professional and daily media, and also in the Nordic press. Aalto and his like-minded colleagues together were successful in defining and stabilizing the meaning of this building in the architectural press. The news considered the sanatorium as something unique in the design of institution buildings, albeit during the construction phase there was no discussion of whether the environment was better for curing patients than other tuberculosis sanatoriums.
Aalto managed to position himself as a specialist of modern architecture. Due to an amplifying snowball effect, he soon became recognised for his work simultaneously both domestically and internationally. Aalto was keen to make sure that the press reported the progress of his hospital project in a favorable light. Aalto became a celebrated figure, while the other participants to the project did not actively appear in the publicity, although Aalto mentioned some of them.
Still, a unique institutional building could only emerge from the interplay between many views and the existing material conditions. The impact of the collective is particularly interesting in the case of a structure that holds a canonised status. When discussing Aalto’s buildings, we often fail either to see or to understand the input of other designers and specialists. In a Latourian reading, the collective of the Paimio Sanatorium became visible through its innovator. The significant contributions of the different stakeholders were forgotten. The credit for the success, which was the result of the work by the entire collective, went to Aalto alone. Latour’s description of the organisation was well-suited for the case study, as in architecture, the role of the designer is traditionally, and often disturbingly, assigned to a single individual. Anyone familiar with the field will know how necessary it is to view architecture as a collective and an applied undertaking.
3.4. Translating Meanings
Michel Callon’s concept of translation offered a framework to understand why the architect justified his design solutions differently to different audiences. Aalto’s method was simple—he...
was smart to differentiate between the relevant target groups. He only needed to understand what motivated each group and to accordingly interpret the same design differently each time.
The design contracts signed between Aalto and the Building Board did not guarantee that the interiors would be furnished with pieces designed by Aino and Alvar Aalto. The Building Board’s decision to select the furnishings of the patient room was not aesthetic but pecuniary. Therefore, the artistically-accomplished designer was not successful merely because of his superior sense of the aesthetic, but also for his resourcefulness. For the Building Board of the Paimio Sanatorium project, the ends justified the means, so they gave Aalto considerable latitude to maneuver, which enabled him to bring in, one contract at a time, his old business partners as suppliers to the hospital project.
In the case of the dining hall mezzanine floor, Aalto used drawings for translation. A section proved to the medical experts the benefits of the solution for the treatment, whereas the perspective drawing of the same room showed the architectural articulation.
ANT has been criticized for lacking an understanding of the irrational and symbolic (Vandenberghe 2002). However, architecture is a system of symbolic expression. The study of the Paimio Sanatorium shows that Aalto could achieve his artistic goals by translating the meaning in an appropriate way for each group of stakeholders. Similarly to the study of Marianne Ryghaug, (Ryghaug 2002), this survey also revealed unsuccessful translations, which were as exciting as the successes from the research point of view.
4. Materials and Methods
Latour has urged the researcher to observe the details in light and map out the chain of events. His example directs our attention to what networks reflect of themselves to the outside world. One of the critical issues is to delimit the object of study.
The anthropological approach applied in this inquiry enabled the research object itself to direct the researcher to the salient themes of study. By analyzing Aalto’s writings as well as his drawings, the researcher formed an opinion on which aspects of the design were vital for the architect from the perspective of architectural theory. The study also tracked the decision-making processes of the Building Board and identified many topics that it discussed intensely, and that caused conflict. The study followed these points of disconnect, which Latour has dubbed as trials.
From the perspective of the execution of hospital designs, one of the two archives of vital importance was the archive of the hospital itself. The minutes of the Building Committee and the Building Board were records of decision-making during the building process. Aalto’s drawings and photographs from the construction period and of the finished building, as well as his correspondence, were kept in the Aalto archive, which was the second of the two principal sources of information. The file also contained certain other documents in addition to those produced by the architects, such as engineers’ drawings and product catalogues.
The study compiled a robust description of each building component, or technological system, from the basis of the minutes of the Building Board and the Building Committee, the written contracts, and the inspection records, in chronological order. The researcher looked more profoundly to each building part and compared its narration with other source materials, such as drawings, specifications, and the building itself. The minutes revealed, among other things, the intentions of different parties, and answered questions such as who proposed what, whether someone objected to something, whether the administrative bodies altered the plans, in what way the solutions and decisions evolved, and who was entitled to act as the representative of these bodies in different situations.
Architectural drawings and other design documents were grouped into categories to match the focal points in the study, such as the designs relating to the windows. The categories included drawings from the competition phase to working drawings, and from elevation drawings to the smallest details and standard drawings. The researcher arranged the material in chronological order. This method was useful for understanding the development and its challenges. As the next step, the researcher juxtaposed these considerations against the analysis of the minutes and the workshop drawings.
Through this method, the study traced which building parts the architect afforded the most design effort to, and who participated in the process.
One of the gains of this study was to point out what the controversies of the building period were. Besides, it was in the confrontations which made the stakeholders reveal their intentions explicitly. The research revealed when the architect needed to mobilize his power and the tactics he used. Understanding the controversies helped to construct an idea of the interests of the actants. Following this interaction uncovered the breakpoints between architecture as an expressive and a building as merely a problem-solving system.
5. Conclusions
ANT proved a functional perspective to review architecture in a case study context. An exciting building enabled discussion on the relation between architecture and technology, as it was not necessary to question the architectural quality of the building. This survey focused on the design and construction phase, and especially the agency of the architect. The actors influencing the solutions were both social and material. The material came across the solutions, for example, through the know-how of engineers and the local circumstances. Another equally important potential viewpoint would be to regard the building after its completion when users modify it, and how the structure changes the social practices and experiences of its users.
Architecture as an applied art that combines ethical, ideological, social, economic and material pursuits seems to be a potential ground to mobilize ANT. The ANT lens made it possible to open new perspectives even on a canonised piece of architecture. Now we understand better how these architectural solutions came into being. The agency of the architect did not lead to integration of large technological systems into architecture evenly. Good cooperation was a prerequisite for innovative solutions.
The study clearly showed the importance of a collaborative effort in an architectural project. Latour refers to strong networks formed by social and material actors that together possess the capacity to act. The more in-depth insight into the prerequisites for successful architecture that the study has provided could be useful today. The most famous architectural solutions for Paimio Sanatorium, a demanding institutional building project, came into being in circumstances where the architect managed to create a viable and robust hybrid that merged collective competence with material factors. Creating such a context today could lead to successful innovation of the current environments.
Acknowledgments: This paper was derived from the Aalto University doctoral dissertation “Architecture and Technology: Alvar Aalto’s Paimio Sanatorium” by the author. The work in progress was commented by Simo Paavilainen, to whom the author gratefully thanks. Architect Noora Laak also provided the writer with useful remarks. Editing this article was useful to sharpen the perspective of the dissertation.
Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. The funders had no role in the design of the study; in the collection, analyses, or interpretation of data; in the writing of the manuscript, or in the decision to publish the results.
References
|
2014
Unification, Agency, Systemization, Intuition: My Art Making Process and Ideas
Zachary Duer
Virginia Commonwealth University
Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarscompass.vcu.edu/etd
Part of the Fine Arts Commons
© The Author
Downloaded from
https://scholarscompass.vcu.edu/etd/3373
This Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by the Graduate School at VCU Scholars Compass. It has been accepted for inclusion in Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of VCU Scholars Compass. For more information, please contact libcompass@vcu.edu.
Unification, Agency, Systemization, Intuition: My Art Making Process and Ideas
A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts at Virginia Commonwealth University.
by
Zachary Raymond Duer
Master of Fine Arts, Virginia Commonwealth University, 2014
Master of the Arts, Mills College, 2009
Bachelor of Music, Minnesota State University Moorhead, 2007
Director: Robert Paris, Associate Professor, Kinetic Imaging
Virginia Commonwealth University
Richmond, Virginia
May, 2014
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction ........................................................................................................................................ 1
Observation Window .......................................................................................................................... 2
Description ....................................................................................................................................... 2
Comments ....................................................................................................................................... 4
Multi-sensory art ............................................................................................................................ 4
Technology as process .................................................................................................................... 6
The Architecture Sings ...................................................................................................................... 8
Description ....................................................................................................................................... 8
Comments ....................................................................................................................................... 10
Unification of performance ............................................................................................................ 10
Definition of instrument .................................................................................................................. 11
The experience of the performance ................................................................................................. 14
Brickolage .......................................................................................................................................... 16
Description ....................................................................................................................................... 16
Comments ....................................................................................................................................... 18
Interactive system design for creative agency ................................................................................. 19
Evolution as a mediating system .................................................................................................... 19
Challenges ....................................................................................................................................... 21
The appeal of an experimental process ........................................................................................... 22
Circuit ................................................................................................................................................ 23
Description ....................................................................................................................................... 23
Comments ....................................................................................................................................... 24
nothings_nomeanings ........................................................................................................................ 27
Description ....................................................................................................................................... 27
Comments ....................................................................................................................................... 28
Elements of collage, style and process .......................................................................................... 28
What has changed in the collage work ......................................................................................... 33
Abstract
UNIFICATION, AGENCY, SYSTEMIZATION, INTUITION: MY ART MAKING PROCESS AND IDEAS
By Zachary Raymond Duer, Master of Fine Arts
A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts at Virginia Commonwealth University.
Virginia Commonwealth University, 2014.
Robert Paris, Associate Professor, Kinetic Imaging
This essay is an attempt to describe my ideas about my work, my process, and my philosophy of art by examining five of the major pieces I created during the pursuit of a Master of Fine Arts degree at Virginia Commonwealth University. I will discuss the pieces in chronological order, first providing a description of the works’ salient characteristics, then delving into both my specific thoughts about the work as well as the background ideas that were pertinent to me during my process of creation.
Introduction
This essay is an attempt to describe my ideas about my work, my process, and my philosophy of art by examining five of the major pieces I created during the pursuit of a Master of Fine Arts degree at Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU). I will discuss the pieces in chronological order. For each piece I will provide a description of the work’s salient characteristics, then delve into both my specific thoughts about the work as well as the background ideas that were pertinent to me during my process of creation. But ideas are like time; they are always about to be and always just were, but they are never fully and absolutely present. I want to present coherent arguments as much as possible, so I primarily articulate ideas that have been with me for a while. At the end of the essay, I fling these thoughts through the present and into the future, grappling with ideas that I recognize as melting silhouettes without solidified materiality.
Observation Window
Description
*Observation Window* was a performative collaboration between Charli Brissey, a fellow Kinetic Imaging MFA student, and me. It was performed three times from December 7-13, 2012 at 423 West Broad Street, Richmond, VA. Documentation of the performances may be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMmqSJGA5zw
Charli Brissey choreographed and performed movement in the storefront window of a vacant building on one of the busiest streets in Richmond, VA. A projection surface was
stretched across the back of the storefront ledge, trapping Charli in that space for the duration of the performance. A ghostly white image of Charli’s body was projected onto the surface, following and replicating her movements in real-time. The performance activated a public space, demanding attention from an unsuspecting audience of commuters, shoppers, and students. The movement may have evoked ideas of the body as commodity and animal, with the quasi-magical translation of the body’s form manifested as light and subject to digital manipulations including time-delay and distortion. A brief essay co-written by Charli and me describes some of the concepts that arose from the piece:
In today’s culture, the presentation of a female body abstracted by digital media is more comfortable than the confrontation of a stranger’s body in a public environment. The piece Observation Window presents a dichotomy between the form and movements of a female body presented to an unsuspecting, exterior, public audience as an object of display, and the digital abstraction of the same form and movements as they appear to a voluntary, interior audience.
From an urban sidewalk, the audience sees a woman performing in an enclosed display window with a shadow of her form projected onto a screen behind her. The body’s presence in this unusual location solicits the audience to confront their presumptions about the female figure in public. The performer vacillates between exploring the dual characterizations of the body as an animal and the body as a commodity. The light projection behind her highlights the commodification of the female figure, enhancing each movement regardless of the performer’s intent.
Similarly, the audience is free to explore the duality of the exterior and interior version’s of the piece by choosing to enter the gallery and viewing the performance from the opposite side of the projection screen. Since the physical body is no longer viewable, the elegant and mystical abstraction of the body’s silhouette is a more comfortable perspective for the audience, replicating the experience of the female form through digital media. Another duality is formed by the primal character of rhythmic and noisy music, which is only audible from inside the gallery.
During the performance, in addition to controlling the progression of the projected light’s various manipulations of Charli’s image, I also improvised a live musical performance performed over loudspeakers. Using the software / programming interface Max/MSP/Jitter
(Max), I created a virtual instrument for the performance of found-object music samples as loops. The music was layered and rhythmic, with around eight separate looped samples sounding at any given time. The loops were between two and twenty seconds long and often repeated for about five or six minute each, slowly changing in loop duration, volume, tempo, and pitch. As one loop would fade out, another would come in to take its place.
**Comments**
**Multi-sensory art**
As my first completed piece during my MFA studies at VCU, *Observation Window* represents both the continuation and application of many creative and technological ideas developed earlier, as well as the beginning of several interests that propelled my graduate work. *Observation Window* was a multi-sensory experience, breaking away from the staid academic music culture I was reacting against. It extended into multiple mediums in part by being a cross-medium collaboration, something which was new and challenging for me.
Having previously attained Bachelor of Music and Master of the Arts degrees in music composition, one of my goals for my MFA studies at VCU was to create multi-sensory, multimedia work. I was frustrated by the inhuman experience of academic music concerts. Concerts with acoustic instruments are rigidly formulaic and built on performative concepts from the 1800s. Performers wearing tidy and professional clothing take to a bland stage while being applauded, bow to acknowledge the audience’s welcome, seriously perform the music only moving their bodies as necessary to physically activate their instruments, bow again to applause, and exit stage right. Unbelievably, computer music concerts are even worse. They are usually staged in the same way as acoustic music performances, except with the addition of a pair of loudspeakers and a computer on a desk. For fixed media work the lights are turned off, which at
4
least mercifully allows the audience to ignore their life-sapping surroundings. When the music is “performed,” the composer / performer sits on the stage with his (an utterly male-dominated culture) face obscured by the laptop, making minute gestures with the mouse and keyboard. All this time, of course, the audience is expected to sit perfectly still in total silence and complete focus. The music has to be incredibly good to not put me to sleep.
For perhaps apparent reasons, the only people that ever show up to performances like these are those participating. And, inevitably, the performances are always tied to academic festivals and conferences. It is the epitome of the ivory tower, and I would describe it as insular, isolated, obscure, onanistic, and sick. We are creatures that see and hear and smell and touch and move and interact. Expecting us to turn off all but one of our senses and yet remain in touch with ourselves is ridiculous. I want to make things that acknowledge the humanness of the audience. They should be multi-sensory and presented outside of a stage setting. This was a primary inspiration for undertaking a project like Observation Window.
Collaborating with Charli, whose background is in dance, was an excellent way to accomplish this. But collaboration in general was relatively new to me. I was used to working in isolation, following a creative process developed over the past decade, and with total command over the final outcome of the work. Working with Charli, I had to cede some control, which is not easy for me. However, perhaps since we had only recently met, we did not creatively intrude upon each other’s domains. She choreographed the movements that made sense to her, and I designed the light and sound that I wanted. Discussion about what we were creatively intending was minimal. We never really talked about our intentions for the piece or what we thought the result might be until after the performance was over. Instead, the development of the work was focused around what was made possible by the new technologies I
was experimenting with. It was up to me to make the technology work, and up to Charli to create movement that would utilize the technological product.
**Technology as process**
The technological setup was the other primary interest for me. To track Charli’s movements, I used her infrared silhouette. An infrared emitter was set up outside the storefront, pointing in at Charli. Infrared light is invisible, because it is at lower wavelengths than we can see. It was blocked by Charli, but passed through the projection surface behind her, reaching a near-infrared black and white camera with a filter blocking out visible light. This video signal was brought into the Max programming environment, where the program compared each current frame to an original frame in which Charli was not in the space at all. Every pixel that was above a certain threshold of difference from the original turned white, thus producing a ghostly video silhouette of Charli. This video was then aligned and scaled to match Charli, and projected back on to the projection surface.
Another form of complex technology at use was the virtual instrument I programmed in Max to allow me to improvise with music sample loops. I have worked with found-object media samples for a decade, but usually as fixed media compositions. On three or four occasions, I had improvised with them in various ways, usually by triggering them with a keyboard. Using computer programming to create my art was relatively new to me. However, it would become a large part of my practice during my MFA studies.
Working with new media technology like this energizes me. It gives me control over the tools of digital art making, so that I can try to create things which are, at least superficially if not deeply, different than anything I’ve seen before. There’s also an air of prideful superiority that accompanies the successful use of new technology, because the results are almost magical to
many people who are not familiar with how they are accomplished. We frequently associate technological development with the fetishes of wealth and power, perhaps because of the Silicon Valley phenomenon. Magical fantasy and power fetish are not of explicit interest to me, but it’s hard to deny that they may affect my interest in new technology. I also have an affinity for engineering and analytical thinking, which will be discussed at length in this essay.
The Architecture Sings
Description
*The Architecture Sings* was a solo performance of music and virtual space. I performed it in the *Art6* gallery on May 5, 2013. A projection of a virtual space was displayed on a portrait-orientation projection screen hung in the middle of a large room from a second-floor balcony.
The audience was positioned on both sides of the projection screen, facing inward. In the landing of an open stairwell connecting the two levels, I sat at a table with a microphone, keyboard and mouse. I sang into the microphone which amplified my voice and sent the audio signal to the computer, while also using the mouse and keyboard to navigate the perspective of the virtual space and control the predefined structure of the piece. A video of the performance of the virtual space can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EdT6CR4TgA
The primary element of the piece was the relationship between my singing and the virtual space. When I sang or made noise of any kind into the microphone, predefined architectural structures made up of component cubes were activated, responding to the sound input. It is audio visualization in virtual space. Technically, the audio signal of my voice was spectrally analyzed in Max, determining the amplitude (volume) of the audio across the audible range of frequencies (pitches) in the sound spectrum. This data was then sent to another program called the Unreal Development Kit (UDK) which is a real-time graphics engine created for videogame development. In *The Architecture Sings*, UDK was used to generate the virtual space in which the cubes are rendered. Each cube is assigned the numeric amplitude measurement of one of the frequencies. The amplitude can then be mapped to various properties of the cube, such as scale (size), translation (position in 3D space), speed of rotation, color etc. In most cases in *The Architecture Sings*, amplitude is mapped to scale.
Aesthetically, the virtual space was stark and basic. The projected perspective in the space seemed to hover in the middle of emptiness. The horizon was mostly black, with wisps of slowly moving gray to provide a sense of depth. The cubes were unelaborated primitive shapes colored a pale grayish-white. Movement through the piece and the virtual space was slow and methodical. In contrast, my semi-improvised, wordless song was human and imperfect. The
human voice is inherently intimate, contrasting it immediately with the bland geometry of the virtual environment. The song began in a controlled musical style, but as the piece progressed it evolved into organic vocal gestures, such as laughing and sighing.
Comments
_The Architecture Sings_ is as much about the design of the multimedia instrument of sound and virtual space as it is about the performance itself. The idea of a multimedia instrument has occupied my thoughts for some time. In many ways, the impulse is similar to the motive behind _Observation Window_, as it stems from a desire to break away from the visually uninspired performances of academic music. Instead of performers staring at laptops, I want experimental electronic music to be performed in a visually appealing and interesting way to engage the audience. More than that, though, I see multimedia instruments as an excellent opportunity for unifying the various aspects of the audience’s experience.
Unification of performance
_The Architecture Sings_ attempts to unify the experience of sound and virtual environment. The system clearly articulates a direct relationship between the performed sound and the resulting virtual architecture. The experience of the sound and the architecture are presented as a bundle which would be severely diminished in isolation. The song and the architecture serve as vehicles for developing the artistic concepts present in one another. The song attempts to illuminate the characteristics and possibilities of the virtual architecture, which in turn inspire the development of the song. Perhaps some level of aesthetic connection is also made by melding the drab and basic forms of the cubes with the inherent intimacy of the unaffected human voice.
The desire for cross-medium unification arose from a frustration with the limitations of academic and classical musical performance. When watching the performance of a symphony, I understand that the reason I’m there is to listen to the music. But I am distracted by the suits the performers wear, the stage they stand on, the architecture of the hall, the shape of the instruments they play, the motions they enact to activate the instruments, etc. During the performance, I am occupied by some of the bits of the experience usually considered entirely extraneous, such as the feel of the chair I’m sitting in, the temperature and humidity of the room, and the weight in my stomach and aftertaste in my mouth of my recently consumed dinner. Sometimes I’m able to focus on the music and pretend that the other things don’t matter, but they’re always affecting my experience. I want them to be just as much a part of the piece as the sound.
**Definition of instrument**
We generally use the word *instrument* to talk about the classically accepted oeuvre of physical musical instruments, like pianos, violins, clarinets, and trumpets. Using virtual environments as instruments is a challenge to this traditional definition. Questioning the bounds of the definition is useful for me to consider new ways I can employ well-established performance techniques.
Breaking away from the traditional classical orchestra, Luigi Russolo and the futurists made instruments of noise. Varese used a siren as an instrument. In the mid-20th century, classical music instruments became ‘extended’ so that using them in unconventional ways became acceptable as music. Today, anything and everything that makes sound can be considered an instrument in the academic music world. The advancement of electronics has also expanded the definition of an instrument. There’s not much trouble in accepting the digital
keyboard as instrument, because it looks like a piano and can sound like traditional instruments, even though sound is not physically produced.
In computer music, new virtual software instruments are being developed every day which pose all sorts of challenges to the idea of how we relate to an instrument. What is the mechanism of control? Which parameters of the output are a fundamental characteristic of the instrument rather than the way it is played? What if the instrument makes use of the computer’s ability to enact a random process or create emergent artificial intelligence? Many of these challenges were pertinent to the development of my instrument. They helped me create my own definition of an instrument as having three fundamental properties.
First, an instrument must be capable of real-time creation. Without real-time output, the device is a tool for composition rather than an instrument of performance. The mechanism of control in the instrument I built for The Architecture Sings directly affects its ability to function in real-time. I chose to use a mouse, computer keyboard, and microphone, for practical reasons. The mouse and computer keyboard allowed me to navigate the virtual environment in a way that was familiar to me from my experience with videogames. The microphone translated the performance of my live singing into the virtual space. But I was never completely happy with those controls. They lacked visual interest for the audience, because they didn’t require me to move my body at all. They also didn’t push me to find new ways to transport the perspective through the virtual space so that I might use the space as an instrument rather than as a game environment.
Second, an instrument must allow for a breadth of artistic expression. This is the difference between an instrument and a tool (or an instrument for music/art and an instrument of medical science). For example, the play button on a CD player allows for a direct correlation
between input and output, just like a single key on a digital keyboard plays a specific sound. But if there is only one key, or one play button, the tool is very limited as an instrument because of its inability to express a wide range of ideas or emotions. In contrast, a traditional music instrument has numerous pitches that are able to be individually activated at a wide range of tone and amplitude. This portion of my definition of an instrument is the most flexible and has the most gray area, because it creates a spectrum between instrument and tool rather than a binary.
To give my instrument a breadth of expression in the virtual space, I struggled with which parameters of control over that environment I should be able to control in real-time. In developing traditional music instruments, there is a well-established predetermined baseline shared across most instruments - the discrete pitch set of the equal tempered twelve-tone scale. Each instrument differs in its timbre, tone quality, range, etc, but it must be capable of producing those pitches. The instruments are designed to allow the performer to quickly alternate between those pitches. But there is no commonly accepted base of predetermined qualities for an instrument of virtual space. Should all instruments of virtual space use cubes like music instruments use pitches? That seems arbitrary and silly. Maybe color, or the perspective of the virtual space should be made analogous to pitch. I never answered this question satisfactorily. I lacked a way to modulate the relationship between my voice and the activation of the architecture in real-time, limiting the breadth of expression to the innate qualities of my voice and their one-to-one articulation in the scale of the cubes.
The third property that a tool must have to become an effective instrument is a direct, discrete, understandable, and perceivable correlation between input and output. For example, if a piano key is pushed, it is absolutely certain which pitch will result. The player can also learn the relationship between the speed of pressing the key and the volume and tone quality of the
note. If the piano key resulted in any number of other, randomly chosen pitches sounding, I do not believe that would be an instrument. However, if the key on the piano was assigned a specific sound sample rather than a pitch, and every time the key was pressed the sound sample played, it would be an instrument.
For these reasons, I rejected the use of random processes or artificial intelligence for *The Architecture Sings*. My instrument’s virtual space has a perceivable and predictable relationship between input and output. I created an absolute correlation between my voice’s frequency amplitude and the virtual architecture’s cube size. The mouse and keyboard mechanism for navigating the virtual space also had a one-to-one relationship between input and output.
**The experience of the performance**
I find it difficult to gauge the actual experience of the performance of *The Architecture Sings*. During the performance, my mind was occupied with the minutia of my performative actions, as well as the technicalities of the installed equipment and the worry for their consistency. In reflection, after viewing a recording of the performance, what stands out to me the most is the relationship between the quality of my voice and the architectural structures which were correspondingly activated. The architecture vibrates, pulsates, and blinks together with the sound. The virtual space itself becomes musical. My singing during the first two sections of the piece may be a direct result of my fascination with Meredith Monk’s *Dolmen Music*. I listened to that piece repeatedly while creating the digital software necessary to implement the instrument. But as the piece progresses, I wanted to devolve the music into more fundamental vocal sounds like laughter, thereby exposing the relationship between the cubes and the vocal frequencies as technical rather than stylistic. The feeling of the virtual structures as
musical entities morphs into an understanding of the structures as a system to visualize sound in general.
Brickolage
Description
*Brickolage* is an ongoing project that has not been shown anywhere outside of a critique. Yet, it occupied almost two full semesters of my time, was arguably my primary pursuit during the two years of my MFA studies, and remains of great interest to me. To improve the skills I needed for the project, I undertook an independent study with a population genetics laboratory, and wrote a paper titled *Brickolage: Visualizing Evolved Organism Phenotypes As Landscape Patterns*, which can be referenced for a detailed description of the technical system involved in
the work. The following link shows a video of a later stage in the development of the project: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrwGi365ExU
_Brickolage_ is an interactive, real-time, evolution simulation. It was created with the Unreal Development Kit game engine, so the user can enter the simulation from a first-person perspective and navigate the virtual space. The simulation is designed to visualize the genetic pattern of evolved virtual organisms through the spatial reorganization and patterning of a modular environment. There are only two elements in the simulation: bricks and organisms. Bricks are the building blocks of the environment. They are the only division of space, so they operate as the landscape. When the simulation starts, thousands of bricks are placed in the virtual world in an organized three-dimensional grid, with even placement between bricks allowing sufficient space for the organisms to navigate. Since there is no ground, the bricks remain suspended in midair wherever they are placed or moved. Organisms are represented as colored spheres. They absorb sensory information, navigate the environment, procreate, and move bricks. Their only properties are health, location, and the structure of their artificial intelligence system. The colored skin of the organisms visualizes their generation number and health. Using the HSL (hue, saturation, lightness) colorspace, an organism's hue is slightly shifted based on its generation, making each generation distinct and allowing for 50 generations before the color cycle is repeated. An organism's color saturation is tied to its health, so as they become less healthy they become more pale and gray. The entire simulation takes place in the void, floating in the sky, unattached from a predefined environment.
The crux of the simulation is the evolution of the organisms’ artificial intelligence. Each organism is able to sense their environment, and take action based on that information. They sense what things (bricks and other organisms) are around them, how far away those things are,
and in what direction. This information is processed by their artificial intelligence system, which is called an evolutionary artificial neural network. Essentially, the input, which takes the form of numbers, is multiplied by a set of weights. The weights are specific to each organism and are an inherited mixture from the organism’s parents, allowing for evolution. The output of the artificial intelligence system is also a number, or a set of numbers, used to dictate the organism’s actions. The organism can move in three-dimensional space, pick up and move bricks if it encounters them, and mate with other organisms to produce offspring. But most importantly, the health of the organisms is a direct result of their surroundings, because it is one of the outputs of the artificial neural network. Whether or not an organism lives or dies is based on the circumstances of its surroundings, and it has the ability to move through those surroundings and manipulate them. By the very definition of the system, the organisms that survive will be the ones who are genetically optimized to manipulate the structure of their surrounding environment to match their genetic needs, which results in the environment manifesting as the phenotype of the organisms - that is, the physical realization of their genotype. Eventually, my goal is for the user to be able to manipulate the process of evolution of the organisms by affecting the structure of the artificial neural network.
**Comments**
The motivation for working on this simulation stems from my interest in videogames, systems, and evolution. *Brickolage* is not a videogame, but it is made in a videogame engine, and it was partially spawned from the most positive experiences I have had with videogames. I wanted to make a virtual space in which the user could have agency over the design of a landscape, but only indirectly through a mediating system. The mediating system filters and affects the decisions of the user to shape their experience.
Interactive system design for creative agency
I used the process of making Brickolage to examine what I enjoy in videogames. Games are frequently mistaken for the environment and interactive system in which they take place. A game is not a virtual world; it is the explicitly designed goal and rule set within that virtual world. When you play a videogame with an open virtual space to explore, you are only playing the game when you follow the rules to pursue designed goals set forth either explicitly, such as getting to the next character level and beating the game, or implicitly, such as beating your previous high score which was recorded by the game. Most commercial video games enforce their rules strictly. The only way to interact with the game is through a carefully-designed interface.
My best videogame experiences make me feel I accomplish something unique and special. Those experiences usually arise from complex open worlds I can explore and virtual systems with which I can experiment. I like forming my own clever strategy to overcome a hurdle, or subverting the game’s design by exposing an unintentional quirk in its mechanics. I want to impose my own creativity on the game by disregarding either the rules, the goal, or both, and substituting my own. The reward for these achievements is intrinsic. My self-defined goals and my ability to achieve them are unacknowledged by the game because they lay outside of its predetermined structure. They are built on the system within which the game takes place. If the system is designed with a broad and flexible rule-set, it allows for and encourages creativity. The player must assert creative agency to devise his or her own goals. I designed Brickolage as a system that fosters player experimentation.
Evolution as a mediating system
To give the player creative agency in Brickolage, I created a toolset to enable them to
design compelling landscapes within which they can explore. I wanted the rules of the system to attract players to examine and manipulate the rule-set itself, and encourage them to be creative and constructive. Rather than allowing players to affect the landscape directly by moving bricks, I decided to create an intermediate system which serves as the interface between the players and the landscape. In order to assert agency, players must to engage with that indirect system.
I chose evolution as the intermediate system. Evolution simulations have been on my mind for years, perhaps due to my family. My father often interrogates phenomena from a standpoint of evolutionary biology. If someone is rude to him, he loquaciously expounds upon the survival advantages of rudeness in tribal society. My brother created a ‘sim garden’ computer simulation in which a species of virtual organisms gather resources, procreate, and die. Because the creatures (who were only represented as single pixels in a two-dimensional world) evolve, we can watch how small changes to the system design affect their development and behavior.
Imagine an ant colony that is simulated with time sped up by a factor of a million (11 days per second), allowing you to witness multiple generations in a matter of minutes. If, as god of the simulation, you place a recurring food source in a particular location, the ants best able to successfully navigate to the food will be the most likely to survive. Some complex and emergent behaviors may arise in even a system this simple. For example, some ants might defend the food source and kill any other ants that approach it. Conceivably, communities could form which support each other through physical defense and resource gathering. If you move the food source, or break it up into a dozen small chunks scattered around the simulation, how would that change things? And, what if you have control over the parameters of the ants’ capabilities? You can take away their ability to fight, or give them grenades, or let them walk through walls. How
will that change the ants, and what sort of unanticipated behaviors will emerge?
**Challenges**
Evolutionary systems are incredibly complex, and fun to watch and tinker with. I conceived *Brickolage* as a way of directing that tinkering to indirectly create landscape or architectural patterns. But this project was full of challenges for me. It is by far the most ‘out-there’ art project I have ever undertaken because it shares so little with the rest of my work. It is interactive rather than controlled fixed-media. It’s about ongoing tinkering rather than a single experience. The superficial visual appeal is almost nonexistent. And, perhaps most importantly, the process of creation is one of planning a system design and painstakingly implementing that design through programming, rather than intuitively reacting to found-object collage.
The process of using computer programming to make art is almost inherently an unintuitive one. It requires forethought and planning, and the temporal separation between inspiration and result can often be significant. Small mistakes can lead to complete failure when a program does not compile or has a bug that prevents it from carrying out its intended function. This is very different from a typical compositional process, either with pen and paper or on the computer, where the piece is going to play even if a few of the notes are unintended. It harkens in some ways more to the creation of a physical object with tenuous structural integrity. A small mistake can cause a collapse, ruining the whole project. Thankfully, in programming computers, the same small mistake, when corrected, can also immediately rectify the problem and restore functionality, rather than cause permanent damage.
In the process of making *Brickolage*, I spent hundreds of hours at my computer, learning little bits and pieces of programming specific to the project. To create something with programming, you have to build iteratively, starting with a very simple skeleton and slowly
building one step at a time. But often, I ran into problems just in the construction of the skeleton that would take me days or even weeks to fully fix. Rather than struggling with creative issues like designing the system to be interesting or meaningful, I would slam my head against the wall just trying to get an organism to move in the right direction. I spent so much time learning the ins-and-outs of programming for the Unreal Development Kit that I almost lost track of what I was trying to accomplish. I enjoyed the problem-solving process of programming, but it was separated from the artistic product. The project frequently morphed from my original intent into feasible alternatives, and programming mistakes led to new paths of discovery.
The appeal of an experimental process
*Brickolage* is an ongoing process. In many ways, the work put into its creation reflects the goals of the project itself. Programming *Brickolage* put me in touch with the pleasure of experimenting with and engineering system design. Part of me wants to create a system that encourages others to do the same, which ultimately means they would step out of the system that I designed and make their own. But the locus of interest is always in the process of making and never in the completed project. If it were professionally feasible to spend my whole career constantly tinkering and never finishing, that’s exactly what I’d do. The personal moments of discovery and inspiration that occur in my studio don’t need to be encapsulated so they can be shared. *Brickolage* occupies a dual space. I am engaged with it as a never-ending process of personal discovery and creation. At the same time, I would like it to play a role in helping others find the reward of that process for themselves.
Description
*Circuit* is a projection sculpture that was installed in the VCU Fine Arts Building Gallery September 22 thru October 19, 2013. The sculpture was a 4’H x 4’W x 3”D sheet of polystyrene cut by a CNC router on one surface and painted white. The shapes cut into the sheet were all
rectangles and squares of varying sizes and depths, and only 90 degree angles were present. The pattern somewhat resembled a circuit board. The sculpture was mounted on a wall with the central point approximately 7’ from the floor, in a relatively dark space. Projected onto it was a constantly shifting pattern of rapidly flashing lights which were mapped to each individual square and rectangle. At some points during the eighteen minute projection loop, the lights were exactly aligned with the shapes of the sculpture. But they would also frequently dissolve into other patterns that bled and arced across the sculpture. The light constantly changed and evolved nonlinearly. The below link shows video documentation of the installed work:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1dJsPeQdAI
Comments
The reason I first undertook this project was to build something physical by using my computer skills. I have a hard time building things with my hands, whether it’s by using saws or drills or even just tape. But I’m a whiz with the computer, both in using software and in programming my own tools. So, I took a class to learn how to use a CNC router, and I wrote a program to quasi-randomly generate the rectangular patterns of the sculpture. The machine did the physical work for me. There were a number of problems in the cutting process, including the machine failing twice and completely ruining the sculpture once. Despite all the work, time, and frustration that went into the errors of the CNC router, it was gratifying to have a complex three-dimensional sculpted material that could be further integrated into other projects.
Projection mapping is something of a hot topic right now in the technology world because of its ability to use light to activate specific objects, and to distort the audience’s sense of real space. Much like the CNC router, projection mapping appeals to me because it allows me to affect real space by using my skills with a computer to create moving images.
Using the three-dimensional model of my sculpture that I generated to use the CNC router, I created a program that aligned the virtual image of the sculpture, realized as projected light, with the actual physical sculpture. The program broke the virtual sculpture down into its component rectangles, allowing me to turn them on and off individually. By turning random batches of them on and off in quick succession, I was able to create the flashing lights. Then, I treated the whole image of the virtual sculpture as a live video, and processed that video using a number of real-time distortion effects which created the bleeding and arcing images.
During this process, I struggled with trying to create a meaningful experience as the end result of all this programming. I didn’t want the piece to be about the techniques of projection mapping, or about the concept of what it means for a virtual and real world to interact. I wasn’t interested in the implications of the interpretations of the light as electricity, or as a city seen from above. In retrospect, perhaps it was a bad idea to name the piece *Circuit*. I wanted the piece to communicate a more visceral sensation - a feeling of electricity and energy like the sensations that arise from listening to noise music. In the end, I wanted the piece to feel musical rather than sculptural.
This is true for a great deal of my work. Having studied and worked as a musician for two decades, I have a deep affinity for that process, and that way of understanding the world. Music has a rhythm and flow to it that is generally unlike what comes out of the visual art world, whether it be sculpture or film or painting or video. Almost everything I do ends up feeling musical, perhaps with the exception of *Brickolage*.
But using a process heavy on programming made it difficult for me to feel satisfied with the rhythm and musicality of *Circuit*. I never came to terms with the nonlinear presentation of
the light patterns, and that made it difficult for me to find the right amount of ebb and flow to the speed and distortion of the flashing light.
Description
_notings_nomeanings_ is a single-channel fixed-media found-object collage video. It was installed as a projection with stereo sound in the VCU Depot April 25 - May 17th, 2014. The installation served as the exhibition portion of my MFA thesis. The projection was long and thin, stretching from 11’ wall to wall. At an aspect ratio of 48x9, it was triple the normal width of a typical widescreen video. Originally, I had planned from the projection to seamlessly cover three contiguous walls, with each third of the video occupying an entire projection. This would have created an environmental projection space into which the audience could move and be nearly surrounded by video. Due to technical issues, it instead was shown through a single projection. The video was played on a continuous loop with no apparent loop point. A linear version can be viewed here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yO2E3eZFLcE&feature=youtu.be
Comments
Elements of collage, style and process
In many ways, nothings_nomeanings is a continuation of the work I was doing before beginning my studies at VCU. I have worked with found-object media collages for over a decade, first in music and then in video. Many of the stylistic characteristics of that work, as well as the aesthetic goals, remain the same in my thesis piece. Found-object media is collaged together to create gestalts in which the individual samples merge together. The samples are not referential to their particular origin points, nor do they create a narrative story of events. The piece is dense, with many events occurring simultaneously, to the point of perceptual saturation. It was created intuitively, using a process of focused listening and reaction.
Found objects are inherently referential in a multitude of ways. I will use the sample of Arvo Pärt’s De Profundis, beginning at 1’25” in the linear video of nothings_nomeanings, as an example. When heard by itself, outside of the context of my piece, the sample references a multitude of things and ideas. It references the particular musical work De Profundis, Arvo Pärt in general, the classical orchestra with choral ensemble, the neo-romantic style, the particular performers who played the work for the recording, that particular recorded performance, their style of performance, the style of recording, etc. It also haphazardly references all the unique times and places that each individual listener has heard De Profundis, this particular recording of the work, and their associated feelings and experiences. In my use of this sample, I am only interested in using some of these aspects of reference, and so I work to hide the rest. Considering the above example, I want the audience to perceive the general types of references: the classical orchestra and choral ensemble, the musical style, the style of performance, and the style of recording. But I attempt to disassociate the sample from its particulars, so the audience
does not recognize the sample as deriving from *De Profundis*, or as a work of Arvo Pärt. This method allows me to utilize samples as a building-block of musical material that is laden with meanings that are sometimes shared across audiences, and sometimes unique. It is simultaneously devoid of any social commentary wrapped up in the origins of the samples. I want the listeners to remember all their associations with neoromantic music (which for the majority of the audience might be generalized to classical music) without worrying about whether or not that symphony was a political statement, or that they particularly dislike that composer. I use several techniques to accomplish this. Some samples I keep short enough that they are unrecognizable. I frequently layer the samples thickly on top of one another so that they are occluded, reducing recognizability. I can use these techniques to disguise music that may be specifically known to the audience. But with the video samples I use, I have found that their specific identities are more resilient. As a result, I am usually careful to only sample media that will generally be unrecognizable to the majority of people, like old documentaries. Some samples will be recognized here and there by some people who happen to have close knowledge of that particular recording, but for the most part their origins will go unperceived.
I am also uninterested in any story that might perceptually arise from the combination of samples. At 2’22” in *nothing's_nomeanings*, in the center of the screen, a video of an SUV driving in the snow is accompanied by a video of a building with windows, and a video of pink flamingos. I am not creating a narrative about the increasing occurrence of wildlife in urban environments. Perhaps that narrative, or another, will arise in the minds of the audience, but I believe that it will eventually dissipate. As the audience spends more time with the piece, viewing it on multiple occasions, any constructed narrative will inevitably break down because it has no legs to stand on.
For example, at 1’42” in the linear version of *nothings nomeanings*, there is a music sample of Alan Hovhaness’ *The Flowering Peach*. The most salient characteristic of the sample is the notes of a vibraphone. They are somewhat buried in the mix of other sound, but are nevertheless critical to holding the gestalt together. The apparent musical content of the sample can be described as four of five notes, including their pitch and slow rhythm, their subsequent resonance and vibrato, and the timbral nature of the vibraphone itself. But there is so much more at hand. The particularities of that recording of *The Flowering Peach*, although not referential in my usage, are still existent. It was performed by the MGM Chamber Ensemble conducted by Hovhaness himself, so the style of playing is unique and may differ from the interpretation of another ensemble. The recording was made in 1955 and pressed on vinyl, so the sample has a distinct analog sound, accompanied by a hiss. These elements are just as important to the character of the sample as the pitches and rhythms. They have an inherent beauty which I do not distort by altering or filtering.
The unique character of each sample, as the amalgamation of its content and medium, allows me to make my compositional process about the creation of texture rather than discrete events. I can focus on the layering of a particular techno melody sample above a particular choral sample above a particular sample of a concrete block dragged across a grated floor. The synth notes flutter over the bed of the lugubrious harmony of the choral sample, colored by the noisy unpredictability of the concrete block. The samples are from disparate sources, represent diverse styles, and activate different portions of our listening comprehension, yet they can fit together seamlessly. I meticulously combine samples both linearly and vertically to create new sonic entities. Musical lines are created out of samples placed end-to-end, each sample blending into the previous and leading directly into the next. The samples are perceived both as individual
objects and as part of a continuous phrase, forming a swiftly shifting collage of characters. Samples are also thickly layered in conglomerative clusters, carefully blending so that no single sample is dominant but all the sounds remain present and audible. I use the term ‘gestalt’ to describe my goal for samples to retain some of their original identity, but in combination to surpass that identity and form something startling and beautiful. The samples’ individual identities are subsumed into a new, emergent whole.
In creating these gestalts, I enjoy making my pieces extremely dense, with many events occurring in a short time. Much of my favorite art is visually and sonically complex, forcing me to experience it repeatedly to pick up the multitude of details and fit them together. This sustains my interest in the piece and it inspires me to ‘come to’ the work by actively working to understand it. Density also helps to hide the particular references of individual samples, and to help their identities recede so that they might form gestalts.
My compositional process in creating these collages is intuitive, which is well-suited to working with found-objects. A sample always already has something there, both in terms of the discrete content of its pitches, rhythms and instrumentation, as well as an ineffable character that encompasses our personal, cultural, and human relationship to the content of the sample. These things exist before and without any inspiration or creative act from me, and so are very appealing when used with an intuitive and reactive process of composition. Working with samples is almost like improvising together with other people. From the beginning of a piece, I don’t need to start with an idea because the first sample I come across or choose already has content to which I can react. When I look for the next sample to integrate with the first, the choice is based on whether or not the second sample fits well with the first, and if it leads in an interesting direction. By including a sample, I can exert fine-tuned control over it by precisely adjusting its
volume, fades, duration, and placement. I can lend it a new context which fundamentally alters the character of the sample. But the sample also gives back to me something unanticipated, delightful, and inspiring to which I can respond. No matter how much power I wield over the sample, even if I were to try to fit it into a preorganized structure, it never works quite the way I imagine it will. It has its own vitality.
This concept of intuitive process might be understood as a strange mixture of Zen Buddhism and objective realism. On the one hand, it contains the idea that the I, as the composer, must shed my ego and remain totally open to what is present in the piece. It is a meditative practice of quieting the mind and maintaining absolute focus. On the other hand, the same practice also suggests that through this process the composer can become in touch with the objective content of the piece - the idea that is being communicated. It disregards any relativist notion that the construction of the communicated idea occurs in the listener. I like working this way, I like the energy that courses through me (and is eventually drained) as I focus, and I believe it helps me remain in touch with the way my work may be perceived by others who are devoting energy to the work as an audience.
I also believe that an intuitive approach facilitates the creation of emergences, where a structured and formulaic compositional process does not. Some of my favorite moments in art occur when a piece seemingly departs from the original or dominant theme/content/idea, and yet there is something inexplicable that ties it together. My favorite example of this is the piece Fanfare by Noah Creshevsky. The first several minutes of the piece are composed with two plunderphonic samples, one of brass and the other of a solo female voice. The samples are modulated to various pitches to create musical lines. Then, unexpectedly, dramatically, stunningly, those samples are abandoned and instead, a multitude of R&B pop music samples
take their place and are in turn developed. It is a gorgeous moment. There is no amount of
music theory that can explain how the second section is related to the first and why they belong
in the same piece. They are stylistically related, in that they both use modulated samples, but so
does all of Creshevsky’s music, so that’s not enough to logically justify the combination of the
two sections. And yet, there is something in me, and probably in Creshevsky as well, that
recognizes a connection between the two. There must be some sort of deeper, underlying pattern.
If we describe language and art-making as creating humanly-recognizable patterns out of
material, then this links two patterns in a way that defies language’s ability to describe the
connection. It is creativity at its utter best, allowing us to see the world in new ways we would
never be able to reason out. These moments are what I refer to as emergences. I work
intuitively to reach them, because plans are difficult to exceed or break free from. When
working with a premeditated structure, I find it difficult to notice when the opportunity to make
new connections arises. When working from a plan, my mind is focused on its implementation
and closed to other possibilities.
What has changed in the collage work
Many of the aspects of my collage work described above have been true for a number of
years, even if I am more capable of explaining them now than ever before. But it is also useful
to examine what has changed during my MFA studies.
nothings_nomeanings is different from any collage I’ve made before because it is looped
in an installation rather than presented in linear format in a festival or concert. I used to think of
the linearity of my work as one of its defining features. It allowed me to guide the audience
through a particular experience by introducing them to an idea in one way, developing that idea,
and then trying to coherently change it in order to leave the piece in a completely different place
from where it started. If I could stumble across an emergence, as described earlier, that was a crowning achievement for me. But installation work inherently cannot accomplish that because the audience can enter at any point. I wanted to create something that has just as much power as an emergence, but didn’t rely upon a linear experience. There’s a point in the work when the music fades away into silence for over a minute, and then the video reaches a short stand-still. My hope is that this section achieves a quasi-emergence. In some ways, I think that section would be even more effective if it was reached linearly near the end of the piece. When I made the piece, I experienced it linearly because making the loop point was the very last thing I did, so the intuitive reasoning for the silent and still space was driven by that reaction.
A stylistic difference between nothings_nomeanings and my previous collage work is that the samples in my thesis work are much longer and slower, with lower density. The music samples were chosen for their slow tempo or lack of variation over ten to twenty seconds, allowing each gestalt to be drawn out and experienced for that period of time. The video samples were mostly time-stretched, because I had difficulty finding enough video with long shots and little variation. The time-stretching gives much of the video a sense of slow motion. The movements inside the videos become slightly less than real. Another side-effect of using longer samples is that they are more recognizable, because the audience has more time to comprehend them, or because more of the original video is being played. I found that in general, a well-placed sample, when contextualized in just the right way, can retain some of its referentiality without creating an unwanted sense of medley. That is, the samples are being used in a completely new context that subverts or changes their character, rather than being used for nothing more than their identity.
Another difference, although not apparent in the final incarnation of the installation, was
my intention to have the piece projected onto three walls. This idea spawned both from a fascination with the technology necessary to achieve this feat, as well as a desire to spatially spread the visual element of the work across a space in which it couldn’t be perceived and comprehended all at once. I didn’t want the video to appear in totally separate spaces or rooms, because I needed it to retain holistic unity. I was hoping the experience of having to look at different walls to see different portions of the piece would both enhance the details of the piece’s gestalts, as well as encourage the audience to experience the piece multiple times by looking at a different wall each time in order to assemble the totality of the work in their minds.
Melted Thoughts
Most of my ideas presented above have fully formed, coherent, supporting arguments. These thoughts are a deep part of me, but they are constantly updating, shifting, and even reversing. In this chapter, I will present some of the ways my ideas are changing, up to and through the point of writing this essay. They are vague notions mixed with clear insights. They are hints of where I may be going.
Previously in thinking on the referentiality and character of samples, I lacked a way to articulately distinguish the objects represented in the samples from the representation of the objects through their medium of recording. This especially raised issues with my rejection of narratives in the work. I felt the work was not about the objects themselves, but was unable to provide a feasible alternative. I now have a way to verbalize my thoughts on this issue, especially with relation to the nature of video samples. For me, such images are only quasi-representational. My favorite example is of a collage I completed before attending VCU called *Relentless Spasms of Restrained Serenity*. This collage contains a video sample from a nature documentary of a lone duck flying in a blue sky, partially blocking out the sun. The use of this video sample is not a direct reference to the subject material of the original video. That is to say, I don’t use it to talk about ducks, comment on ducks, or create a story about ducks. The video of the duck is representing exactly and only itself. We recognize the duck as a duck, but more
specifically we recognize the way we are relating to the duck through the style and medium of a nature documentary video. Seeing the sample of the duck doesn’t first and foremost remind of us of ducks, it reminds us the way we’ve seen ducks portrayed in nature documentaries. As media savvy, media inundated beings, we intuitively recognize and latch on to the medium of communication. The video has an implicit emotional quality, which in this case is imbuing the duck soaring in the sky with majesty. Majesty is not a property of the duck as the subject material; the majestic quality is entirely constructed by the original author of that video. I did not use the sample to comment on whether or not ducks are majestic. Instead, inherent in the use of the video as a sample is a tip of the hat to (rather than a comment on) the way in which video allows for the construction of a majestic quality onto a duck. In my work, that acknowledgement is implicit. My use of the video is not meant to be a critique of the way video as a medium creates artificial constructs, such as instilling majesty into a duck. Instead, I use and build upon the imbued majesty that exists as a property of the sample, as part of its character, to create something else entirely. And that usually happens by combining that character with a very different character from another sample, so they form a gestalt.
I am more open now to the vast variety of personal interpretations, memories, and feelings that found-objects evoke in individual members of the audience. There is something lovely about the myriad flavors of nostalgia and the imaginary conjured spaces and environments that my sample gestalts elicit. If someone is absorbed in this sort of experience while viewing my work, then I think they are putting effort, energy, and focus into the experience, which is really what I want the most from my audience.
The soundscape of my thesis work is less diverse than most of my other sound collages have been in the recent past. In those collages, I felt it was important to use samples drawn from
a wide array of origins, such as jazz, techno, Javanese gamelan, and Ghanian drumming, in order to emphasize the uniqueness of gestalts created from such disparate elements. But *nothing's* _nomeanings_ adheres to a fairly rigid core of music samples, with piano, choral, and string samples of classical, romantic, and neo-romantic western music. I have a deep affinity for traditional western instrumentation, possibly because I spent my formative years learning and performing that kind of music. While there is a part of me that feels the musical gestalts would have been stronger if I had diversified, I intuitively feel that it was appropriate for this piece. I can’t put my finger on why, yet.
As I was composing *nothing's* _nomeanings_ I stumbled upon a new way of conceiving the utility of combining natural sound samples and music samples, which I’ve been doing for years. The natural sound samples are imbued with an emotional quality from the music, and the music samples take on a concretely representative quality from the natural sound samples. Natural sound samples by themselves tend to evoke thoughts of whatever object created the sound. A sample of a sliding door shutting may bring to the minds of the audience images of sliding doors they have known in the past. And a music sample of a Brahms chorale may evoke feelings of spiritual transcendence. But when the two are combined effectively in gestalt, they take on each other’s properties. I take the most pleasure from these moments, when the sliding door fleetingly reaches spirituality, and the chorale inhabits an ephemeral physical space. I believe they have the same sort of convulsive beauty that inspired Surrealists to combine dream imagery.
Perhaps one of the most powerful changes in my thinking involves the questioning of my intuitive process. I’m concerned that the idea of intuition is a complex bit of self-deception. I think a lot about the role that self-deception has for humans, how it manifests itself, and philosophically what self-deception even means. In my own artistic process, I have to admit to
myself that I make all sorts of premeditated choices. For example, I choose what software to use, which hugely influences what techniques I employ because they suggest themselves in the software design. My sample library is largely collected ahead of time because it is important to have a diversity of samples so I can pick which ones will be appropriate for any particular moment of my piece. But even then, I’m making a vastly important choice that defines the work. If I only take video samples from documentaries, then that choice cannot be reactive to the emergent content of the piece as I create it. I generally allow these premeditated choices because they tend to dictate the style of the piece rather than the content. However, style and content are fundamentally interwoven, like the medium and the message. The content of each particular piece, the idea and experience that is communicated, is dependent upon software and sample-choice. But the development of the idea isn’t hampered by those limitations because they define the stylistic space within which the piece exists. At some level, at some point, decisions have to be made before the process of focus and reaction to content can begin. For example, I may choose to write a piece of music for the piano, and the style of the piece will be limited by the nature of the piano, but the development of the musical content is a layer below that, and happens within that structure.
The self-deception of my intuitive process is further illuminated by my tendency to formally analyze the work. In creating one of the middle sections (when viewed linearly) of *nothings_nomeanings*, I was struggling to create sound that I felt was affectively linked with the beginning of the piece. In order to overcome this barrier, I found myself analyzing and detailing aspects of the first section, hoping that I could use the findings to make appropriate choices for the middle section I was working on. That process goes completely against the idea of intuitive creation, but I used it because it allowed me to continue moving forward in the piece.
Furthermore, I don’t know how I should react to my discovery of self-deception. Do I alter my compositional approach to allow for premeditation and analysis, alter the way I talk and think about my approach, or assume that my approach is solid in general? Perhaps on the occasion in question I resorted to analysis only because I wasn’t putting sufficient energy into the intuitive process to yield results.
My reasons for using an intuitive process rest upon my philosophy of semi-objective realism, but that philosophy is also shifting. A philosophical model called object-oriented philosophy provides me with a framework to reinterpret my ideas of realism. I encountered this philosophy as part of a class called Objects of Affection that I took as my seminar in my final semester of my MFA studies. Object-oriented philosophy, as my understanding of it goes, posits an absolute reality which is forever withheld from our total understanding. There are real objects which have real properties, but because of the nature of the universe we can never completely comprehend those objects because we are not those objects. Real objects are all also equally withheld from each other; in this conceptual model, humans are not uniquely privileged as unintegrated elements of existence. Instead of having direct knowledge of and access to each other, objects are mediated through something called a sensual object, which is not real. Sensual objects come into being through the phenomenological perception of real objects. A sensual object exists between two real objects, and is just as much a thing as a real object, with agency to boot. Furthermore, real objects are not limited to the physical world. My family, for example, is a real object. Like any object, it is constantly in flux, but it maintains cohesion and existence even if one member of my family leaves or dies.
This philosophy resonates deeply with me, partly because I am able to find some interesting connections with my pre-existing philosophy of art and semi-objective reality. I react
very strongly against the continental philosophy that dominates the academic art world which holds that all understanding is a result of our enculturation, and that objects, words, and art have no reality beyond the meaning endowed upon them by our cultural network. The idea of even a semi-objective reality is seen as a pretentious, male, Caucasian concept used to disempower everyone that is not those things.
Object-oriented philosophy provides an alternative to counter relativism and associative meaning. There are real objects. My thesis piece is a real thing that has real properties. None of us will ever be able to totally grasp the real art work, perhaps especially me as the artist. But the sensual objects that each of us have in relation to the piece are derived from both the individual and the real object. Perhaps the meditative focus of my intuitive compositional process is a way of grasping for the real object, striving to bring my sensual understanding of it closer to the real thing. I like that thought.
Conclusion
In some ways, the process of writing this essay reflects my struggle with intuitive and personal process versus structuralism and engineering. My first draft attempted to distill all my ideas down into their essence, starting with the definition of art, in order to dialectically build an argument for my ideas about art with total cohesion and infallible persuasion. I tend to write that way because I tend to think that way - always rationally analyzing phenomena to order and define them. My thesis committee strongly suggested that I take an alternate route, understandably concerned that it might be unproductive to spend my time trying to construct a flawless abstract argument rather than directly engage with my art work and creative process. I then rewrote the essay as a semi-personal narrative going back over a decade, contextualizing my ideas by tracking their development. That was an invaluable process for me, even though it may not have been appropriate for this thesis. I finally settled on this piece-oriented approach which allows me to consider many of my ideas in specific relation and application to the major works that I created while at VCU. This essay formally asserts some of the philosophical concepts upon which my artistic process is built, but it also acknowledges some of their shortcomings, and tries to grapple with my inconsistencies. By incorporating some of my hesitations, worries, hypocrisies, and contradictions, I hope that it finds a middle ground. From the middle, I can continue the development of my artistic practice by drawing upon the strength of my analytical
brain to create structure, while allowing my intuition to find and embrace the inevitable irrational gaps, creating doubt. It is from this doubt that my next piece will always arise.
Appendix 1
Some Published Works That Are Important To Me
Arvo Pärt – Te Deum
Autechre – Quaristice
Carl Stone – Shing Kee
Claude Debussy – La Mer
Diamanda Galas – Malediction & Prayer
Erik Satie – Gymnopedies
Gustav Mahler – Symphony No 5 in C sharp minor
Graham Harman – The Quadruple Object
Henry Gwiazda – She’s walking…..
Iannis Xenakis – Shaar
Igor Stravinsky – The Rite of Spring
James Pritchett – David Tudor’s Realization of John Cage’s Variations II
Jane McGonigal – Reality is Broken: Why Games Make Us Better and How They Can Change the World
John Wall – Constructions I-IV
Laetitia Sonami – The Appearance of Silence
Lisa Bufano – One Breath is an Ocean for a Wooden Heart
Marco Donnarumma – Hypo-chrysos
Martin Arnold – pièce touchée
Meredith Monk – Dolmen Music
Merzbow – Animal Magnetism
Morton Feldman – For Piano and Voices
Nine Inch Nails – The Downward Spiral
Noah Creshevsky – Who
Norman McLaren – Pas de Deux
Pauline Oliveros – Bye Bye Butterfly
pe lang – moving objects series
Philip Glass – Einstein on the Beach
Radiohead – Kid A
Richard Garet – Gap
Robert Ashley – Perfect Lives
Robert Seidel – Chiral
Ruth Crawford Seeger – String Quartet
Sony Online Entertainment – Everquest
Stan Brakhage – The Stars Are Beautiful
Steve Reich – Piano Phase
Vita
Zachary Raymond Duer was born on July 3, 1986, in Hennepin County, Minnesota, and is an American citizen. He graduated from Kurth-Nelson Home School in 2004. He received his Bachelor of Music in Composition from Minnesota State University Moorhead, Moorhead, Minnesota in 2007. He received his Master of the Arts in Music Composition from Mills College, Oakland, California in 2009. |
[REMOVED] |
City of Lawrence, Kansas
A City-Wide Cultural Plan
A Proposal by
CHRISTINE HARRIS
and
Creative Community Builders
November 21, 2014
November 21, 2014
City of Lawrence, Kansas
Christina McClelland, Director of Arts and Culture
6 E. 6th Street
Lawrence, Kansas 66044
Dear Ms. McClelland;
Please find enclosed materials in response to the City of Lawrence RFQ dated October 24 for *Consultant Services for the Lawrence City-Wide Cultural Plan*, presented as a partnership between Christine Harris Connections and Creative Community Builders (consultant team). We hope that our respective and collective expertise of over 60 years of creative community development and cultural organizational expertise can be of help with focusing a vision and developing a widely-shared, dynamic cultural plan for the City of Lawrence, KS.
Creative Community Builders is one of the most highly-regarded small consulting firms focused on cultural planning and creative placemaking in the U.S. Our unique area of strength lies in helping communities integrate arts and culture with economic development, design, and other community development goals. Christine Harris Connections is playing a leading role in defining, profiling and implementing creative community economic development strategies. Together, we conduct studies of local economies relative to their creative sector assets and potentials. Our planning addresses a full range of community issues and will result in a broadly-based and sustainable yet dynamic plan serving the City of Lawrence, its residents, and creative organizations. We connect cultural programs and facilities with the economic, educational, social, civic and physical development and vitality of communities. We strategically build upon the community’s history, creative assets and collective energies in support of a renewed vision for the future.
We are recognized leaders in this field and will be able to provide extraordinary value to this project with a unique collaborative approach. We employ an asset-based, iterative approach with the end goal of a sustainable, vibrant, economically viable creative community.
Included in the following proposal is an outline of the planning journey we take with you, not for you, that involves local leadership in a thoughtful process to reflect, learn, create, seek input, formulate, and take initial steps towards implementation. Recognizing the work already done by the Cultural District Task Force, we are excited to help build on this excellent momentum. The scope of services, steps, and costs are, of course, open to modification to meet the needs of the City if you select this consultant team.
Please let us know if you would like us to send you any of our recent project reports.
We look forward to hearing from you, and hope we have the opportunity to assist you with this process. Thank you very much.
Sincerely,
Christine Harris
Principal
Christine Harris Connections
2460 N. 85th St
Milwaukee, WI 53226
414-379-1011
christine@charrisconnect.com
Tom Borrup
Principal
Creative Community Builders
2929 Chicago Ave, Suite 911
Minneapolis, MN 55407
612-871-1180
tom@communityandculture.com
NARRATIVE: Our Cultural Planning Approach
Background
During a planning process of six months we propose a number of critical steps that will assure reflection, learning, creativity, and accountability – along with well-grounded planning within current economic realities. Each step is designed to fully engage community stakeholders as well as draw on best practices and experience both in and outside of the United States. Our approach is designed to identify and engage a full palate of resources towards the creation of a strategic, meaningful and viable community cultural plan. Values, vision, assets, strategies, outcomes, and implementation steps are all addressed – with relevant stakeholders, including the community at large.
The consultant team will begin the process with no assumptions about the community and its desires. We will guide a broadly-based and well-informed deliberative and iterative process to identify the community’s assets, challenges, vision, capacities, and leadership. We will be guided by your Cultural District Task Force Report, the Horizon 2020 Update, and other relevant City planning and economic development plans and priorities. Through these steps community leaders can arrive at clarity about a cultural master plan that will best meet the community’s needs. The consultants’ planning process is also designed to help build the capacity of local leaders to carry on work called for in the plan.
Our Approach: Asset-based Planning and Capacity-building
We prefer working with a stakeholder Steering Committee of no more than 20 members who represent City staff (including economic development), Cultural District Task Force, and institutional interests, balanced with artists, educators, business owners, and other key civic and cultural leaders. Our work as strategic planners employs community organizing and capacity-building strategies that bring people and organizations together around common purpose to shape plans and to build ownership, shared identity, and local leadership.
Our consulting team uses an asset-based approach that integrates community assessment, cultural planning, economic development, identity development, and bridge-building. We believe that each community has unique history and character, a distinct culture, and economic underpinnings, all of which must be clear elements in any plan for the future. Models from other communities can provide valuable information but strategies and solutions remain unique to each community. In the case of Lawrence, these will be built upon the natural resources, infrastructure, geographic position, identity, economic drivers, civic traditions, cultural activities, civic and educational institutions, and other things that make the City work. These will need to be fully understood and appreciated as the Steering Committee and other local leadership develop a common vocabulary and a vision. We will engage this Committee and other members of the community to develop guiding values and identify assets. Working together to identify strengths and the abundant possibilities made possible through collaboration, we believe city leaders will find new opportunities.
Ultimately the most important assets in any community are people, leadership, and their ability to work together. Throughout the planning process we identify and engage leaders, assess the community’s strengths and challenges, and model good collaboration through the planning process itself.
We work in an inclusive way respectful of community values and culture. In meetings with leaders, interviews, and public meetings we listen for what people value, what cultural and historic attributes invoke pride, and for issues of concern. With this information, we seek ways the arts can make greater contributions to the overall quality of life. We engage community leaders in facilitated discussions to generate strategies that resonate with the community. We assemble work groups, and we use consensus-building techniques. Our process represents a community organizing approach to planning, building understanding of shared intentions and finding practical strategies to achieve them. We build from plans already generated by the community and we impart strategies drawn from experiences of other communities.
Our process includes agreeing on an activity timeline with identified responsibilities, reviewing the timeline and progress with regular client phone calls and being highly responsive via email. We request working with one project manager who is the point person for the City, and Christine Harris will be our project manager/point person. We strategically determine site visits that are critical for project development and credibility, and we schedule conference calls as needed around those site visits. Over many years of this work, we have learned that focused contact and agreed accountabilities are critical to the project’s success.
In convening the stakeholder steering committee and leading to an analysis of assets and challenges, we conduct interviews, use focus groups involving a wide mix of stakeholders, and engage public input through surveys and/or a public town hall. We also:
• Look specifically at the local ecology of cultural and economic resources that comprise the City’s cultural economy.
• Review the City’s priorities and activities for arts and culture within the context of economic development plans, parks and recreation priorities, tourism activities, K-16 education, and senior/aging resources.
• Examine the design opportunities that the physical environment provides. If possible, photo-document its physical and geographic assets.
• Analyze the current economy of the area examining existing market studies, needs assessments, other economic data from a variety of sources.
• Look at marketing and promotional materials (including web sites and electronic marketing materials) and how they portray the community and its cultural resources to local audiences and visitors.
• Carefully examine the community’s resources, public policies, and shared intentions and identify the organizational capacity to successfully implement and sustain the cultural plan.
The underpinning of our collective approach is an asset-based, collaborative, inclusive and iterative process designed to link and leverage stakeholders for the purpose of optimizing community vibrancy and creative capacity.
REFERENCES
The following demonstrate a range of related planning activities completed recently. All are rooted in city cultural assets, including district and public art plans linked to economic development.
1. City of Marquette, MI – Master arts and culture plan – this was a ten-year strategic plan to develop the City’s arts, culture and creative economy plan as well as recommend a regional cultural alliance. We worked with the Community Services Director and Community Services Arts and Culture Manager as well as a community-wide Steering Committee. June, 2014.
Client: City of Marquette, MI
Reference: Karl Zueger, Community Services Director, City of Marquette
906-225-8589, kzueger@mqtcty.org
2. Capacity Building and Artist Support Study - Oklahoma City, Oklahoma – Undertaken for the Cultural Development Corporation of Central Oklahoma, the Artist Support Project grew out of recognition among civic leaders in the greater Oklahoma City area that despite having an energetic artist community and strengths in cultural programs and activities, progress was impeded by a lack of support services and networks. CCB met with 120 artists and cultural leaders to devise short and long-term plans to build artist networks coordinate a variety of city resources and launch multiple partnerships and programs to support the development artists and their many contributions to the area's economy, neighborhoods, and quality of life.
Client: Cultural Development Corporation of Central Oklahoma
Reference: Robbie Kienzle, Director of Urban Redevelopment Division and Director of Arts and Cultural Affairs, City of Oklahoma City, 405-297-1740
robbie.kienzle@okc.gov
3. Hennepin Cultural District, Minneapolis, MN – Downtown cultural district plan created in partnership with Hennepin Theatre Trust, Walker Art Center, Artspace, and City of Minneapolis – a ten-year strategic development plan to transform the physical landscape, organizational networks, public activities and image of a vibrant but challenged 1.8-mile mixed-use urban corridor.
Client: Hennepin Theatre Trust
Reference: Tom Hoch, President and CEO, Hennepin Theatre Trust, 612-455-9510, tom.hoch@hennepintheatretrust.org
EXPERIENCE DESCRIPTION
This RFQ response combines the expertise, experience and energies of two highly regarded creative community consultants, Tom Borrup of Creative Community Builders, and Christine Harris of Christine Harris Connections. Tom and Christine have been colleagues for many years, and together recently completed a ten-year master arts and culture plan for the City of Marquette, MI.
We both mobilize the creative and cultural assets of communities, positioning them as viable and sustainable partners in economic, social, civic, and physical development initiatives. Every community we work with is unique and each faces different challenges. The first thing we do is to listen. We convene stakeholders, research the current state of affairs, and collect data that help us, together, shape a process and a plan.
Creative Community Builders (CCB) has been working with municipalities of all sizes to build strategies and plans around community cultural assets that lead to vibrant and prosperous futures for the past dozen years. CCB brings research-driven insights to fuel our work creating collaborative community relationships that are meaningful and sustainable. We conduct strategic planning designed to fit the needs, goals, and culture of organizations and communities.
After a 25-year career in the nonprofit arts sector, Creative Community Builders’ Principal, Tom Borrup, literally wrote the book on how to leverage cultural resources to support economic and community development, The Creative Community Builder’s Handbook (Fieldstone, 2006). Through group discussion, one-on-one meetings, research and data analysis, we set the stage for your community to determine its values, assets, and vision. Strategic goals, action steps, and business plans are crafted to turn the vision into reality.
Current and recent projects and clients include:
- Springfield Foundation, Springfield, OH (creative placemaking and cultural development strategies)
- Bloomington, MN Theatre and Arts Center (creative placemaking planning, activities, demonstrations)
- City of Bogotá, Colombia (city-wide cultural policy development, neighborhood-based workshops)
- City of Marquette, MI, with Christine Harris Connections (comprehensive arts & cultural plan)
- Foundation for Louisiana, New Orleans, LA (corridor development, neighborhood leadership training)
- Franconia Sculpture Park, Shafer, MN (strategic planning, capital expansion positioning)
- City of Providence, RI, with Dreeszen Associates (cultural identity development, five transit corridors)
- Hennepin Theatre Trust, Minneapolis, MN (creative placemaking – downtown cultural district)
- National Alliance of Media Arts and Culture, San Francisco, CA – (national field data analysis)
- Cultural Development Corporation, Oklahoma City, OK – (regional artist support research and plan)
- St. Croix Valley Foundation, Hudson, WI – (National Heritage Area plan development)
- Franconia Sculpture Park, Center City, MN – (strategic development and expansion plan)
- Creative Alliance of New Orleans – (cultural economy & organizational strategic planning)
- Hope Community, Minneapolis, MN – (develop interactive database of nonprofit organizations)
- Arts & Community Change, Brooklyn, NY – (research policy recommendations for cultural districts)
- Lowertown Master Plan Task Force, St. Paul, MN – (arts district/neighborhood master plan)
- St. Croix Falls, WI – (linking historic theater restoration, local economic development)
- Citizens for Loring Park Community, Minneapolis, MN – (urban neighborhood master plan)
• Arts Alliance Illinois, Chicago, IL – (strategic positioning in regional planning)
• St. Anthony Park Community Council, St. Paul, MN (creative enterprise zone planning)
• Surdna Foundation, New York, NY – (funding policy development, cultural districts)
• Walt Disney Corporation, Lake Buena Vista, FL – (thematic development of proposed community)
• Tucson-Pima Arts Council, AZ – (capacity building, cultural development strategies)
• Dept. of History, Arts & Libraries, Lansing, MI – (cultural economic development planning)
• 1st ACT Silicon Valley, San Jose, CA – (strategic planning, research, region-wide assessment)
• George Kaiser Family Foundation, Tulsa, OK – (cultural district planning & coordination)
• Portland Community TV, Portland, OR – (3-year evaluation, new technology initiative)
• Morgan Family Foundation/Yellow Springs, OH, (arts-based community revitalization initiative)
• Living Arts of Tulsa, Tulsa, OK, (strategic organizational planning and development)
• The Ford Foundation/Partners for Livable Communities, New York, NY – Initiative to expand the role of arts in social and economic revitalization. Evaluate and provide technical assistance to:
-Center for Creative Community Development, North Adams, MA - (economic research)
-Movimiento de Arte y Cultural Latino Americana, San Jose, CA - (neighborhood strategies)
-Nuestras Raíces, Holyoke, MA - (cross-sector strategies and organizational development)
-Queens Museum of Art, New York, NY - (neighborhood development strategies)
-Project Row House, Houston, TX – (strategic positioning)
• Michigan Main Streets, Calumet & Boyne City, MI (cultural economic development planning)
• Legacy Project, Rochester, MI, with Sutton+Associates (art center planning joining 3 communities)
• City of Concord, NH, with Craig Dreeszen (city-wide creative economy planning)
• Franconia Sculpture Park, Franconia, MN (organizational strategic planning and positioning)
• Minneapolis Television Network, Minneapolis, MN - (strategic planning)
• City of San José, CA Redevelopment Agency, with M. Alvarez (art center assessment and plan)
• City of San José, CA, Office of Cultural Affairs (neighborhood arts program assessment)
• Out North Development, Anchorage, AK - (strategic positioning & asset development)
• Fifth Ward Re-development Corporation, Houston, TX, with Sutton+Associates (strategic positioning)
Christine Harris of Christine Harris Connections has been helping build creative communities for over 30 years. Her initial career work involved senior executive roles for the Milwaukee Symphony (Dir of Marketing and Education), Milwaukee Ballet (CEO), Institute for Music, Health and Education (CEO), as well as President/CEO for the United Performing Arts Fund (an organization that raises over $10 million annually for the performing arts). In those organizations, Christine spearheaded all strategic planning work. She formed her national consultancy in 2011, after transitioning the nonprofit Cultural Alliance of Greater Milwaukee to Creative Alliance Milwaukee in her CEO roles. This organizational change followed the publication of the first ever Midwestern creative economy profile Creativity Works! Milwaukee Regional Creative Industries Project.
Christine has been involved with cultural planning efforts for Greater Milwaukee, WI, Arts Alliance Illinois, Arts Alliance Portage County, WI, and City of Marquette, MI.
Christine has been a consulted advisor and presenter for both the Americans for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Arts. She most recently was the lead researcher and author for *America’s Creative Economy: A Study of Recent Conceptions, Definitions and Approaches to Measurement Across the USA* – with lead funding from the NEA.
She co-founded the Creative Economy Coalition, organizations which are supporting and strengthening their creative communities. This Coalition is a working committee of the National Creativity Network.
**Current and recent projects and clients:**
*National Endowment for the Arts, D.C. (presenter on creative economy and designer of research America’s Creative Economy: A Study of Recent Conceptions, Definitions and Approaches to Measurement Across the USA)*
*City of Austin, TX (creative sector needs assessment)*
*Arts United, Fort Wayne, IN (strategic assessment and development of cultural and strategic plans)*
*City of Marquette, MI (master ten year arts and culture plan)*
*Mount Mary University, WI (creative community engagement assessment and corporate creativity leadership program development)*
*Creative Alliance Milwaukee (Creative Milwaukee Experience tour program; executive consultant)*
*Arts Alliance of Portage County, WI (creative economy research and community planning)*
*United Performing Arts Fund, WI (arts education grant design and allocation process development)*
*Arts Alliance Illinois, IL (creative economy research Board presentation)*
*Lindsey Bovinet, ISI, Inc., WI (project manager, development of downtown ‘creative hub’)*
*Greater Milwaukee Committee, WI (research and inventory creative collaborative work spaces)*
*Cuyahoga Arts Council, OH (national grant reviewer)*
*Americans for the Arts (presenter)*
*Alverno College (keynote presentation on creativity)
DRAFT PROJECT SCOPE
We appreciate that you have defined the goals of this cultural planning process as: 1) document Lawrence’s cultural assets, 2) define cultural priorities, 3) recommend strategies and tools which the City of Lawrence can provide to support the efforts of the community to accomplish those priorities and further enhance the climate for creative sector development to thrive, and 4) provide recommendations for integrating infrastructure and capital improvement projects with the overall goals of the plan.
Our consultant team will work with you to develop, refine and test the viability of a city-wide cultural plan. The scope of work will include a clear path of implementation, helping to grow a sustainable, vibrant creative cultural sector. It is important to note here that our definition of the cultural sector is inclusive of the connection to natural resources, heritage, and nonprofit and commercial creative businesses. We acknowledge that this is a draft project scope, subject to refinement upon engagement and in discussion with the City’s Director of Arts and Culture and all relevant project personnel.
TASK ONE: Inventory Analysis and Assessment of Community Needs
1. Meet with City Director of Arts and Culture, Lawrence Cultural Arts Commission, and others to determine stakeholders and interview schedule, and review Scope of Work.
The consulting team will host a conference call to meet the client and discuss in detail the Scope of Work. We will discuss and agree stakeholders that need to be involved, and the schedule for first onsite visit. We recommend establishing a Steering Committee of no more than 20 persons to strategically guide and support this project. This ensures all of the appropriate voices are heard, that there is community buy-in to the project and a unified message throughout the community.
During the first onsite visit, we will meet with project personnel, host the first Steering Committee meeting, conduct interviews and focus groups, determine strategy for citizen involvement, and discuss any questions or clarifications needed by either the client or the consultants.
We will discuss our review of all research materials.
2. Review existing studies, comprehensive plans, local history
Our team collects and examines relevant plans, studies, and local histories prior to and during our first site visit, such as the Cultural District Task Force Report, Horizon 2020, current City plans (including parks and recreation, economic development, convention and visitors bureau, university) and others as agreed. The review includes outside reports such as annual reports and strategic plans
of stakeholders (such as the Lawrence Arts Center, Theatre Lawrence, Spencer Museum of Art, etc.) as well as information from Kansas Arts Commission and Kansas Creative Arts Industries Commission. We review these to ascertain opportunities for synergy with cultural planning. These plans also provide documentation of community cultural assets and needs, and established visions, goals, and strategies that can be complemented and supported through cultural planning.
3. Research, inventory and data collection
We start the assessment in advance of on-site work by communicating with local leadership and reviewing community economic data, databases, directories, and web sites that identify and characterize economic and cultural resources. We create a profile of the community and will work with City staff and Steering Committee to create an inventory of cultural resources using an inclusive definition. The consultants will advise on a strategy for inventorying creative assets and City staff will be responsible for gathering and collating the creative community inventory.
Our definition of culture includes heritage trails, public art, museums, natural resources, public spaces, arts and entertainment venues and districts, historic places, distinctive neighborhoods, creative incubators, fairs and festivals, and non-profit as well as for profit creative businesses. While individual artists and creative workers are difficult to inventory, we assess the community of artists and creative workers as a class. Connectivity within and between each part of the community is critical, as is the relative location of the City in regards to other centers of population, activity, and economic production.
Once on site, we share the developing list of cultural resources with stakeholders and community leaders and engage people in helping to identify and understand the local meaning and relative importance of these and other overlooked resources. We work with City staff to develop the composition of a physical and social capital inventory. If Lawrence is interested, we can also discuss the pros and cons of doing a ‘cultural asset mapping’ along with the inventory collation, although coordinating such a mapping is outside this proposed project scope. We also look for opportunities within the community among under-utilized assets such as empty buildings, defunct rail connections, and fallow real estate along rivers, waterfronts or in other prominent locations.
TASK ONE Deliverables:
Detailed Scope of Work
Identity Report: What Sets Lawrence Apart
Steering Committee agenda, tasks and timeline
Challenges and Opportunities from Interviews and Focus Groups
Creative Community Inventory (will be in process)
TASK TWO: Vision, Values, Goals and Plan Development
1. Define and formalize the community vision for arts and culture in support of broader creative economy and City goals
Clarifying and establishing consensus regarding a vision is a core part of the planning. It will be addressed first by the Steering Committee who will identify four to five focus areas and a set of guiding values. We will prepare a draft description of the City-wide Cultural Plan. These focus areas and Cultural Plan scope will be tested among regional leaders, tourism and economic development professionals, educators, philanthropists, and others.
The information gathered from focus groups and interviews, along with the Identity Report will be used to structure a citizen engagement strategy. An online public survey will be developed by the consultants; designed, administered and promoted by the City and Steering Committee, and be available for a minimum of 4 weeks.
A vision emerges through the early stages of the process informed by a variety of steps and fully vetted among community leaders. We approach planning as both a process and a product that belongs to the community in every respect. Meaningful and effective meetings of stakeholders and wider community gatherings are essential to the planning. A public event will be included in the public engagement strategy, following the results of the survey. This public event will provide further focus on specific values, a vision and key strategies based on all of the work compiled to date. Transparency is important, thus we work with the Steering Committee and City staff to establish a communications plan including email and use of local media to provide information on the planning process and an announcement of the plan content once it is presented.
A well-attended public meeting is a key step in forming a vision. We engage participants in fun, creative exercises that tap both right and left-brain thinkers.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Typical agenda for a two-to-three-hour public planning meeting</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>• Introduce Steering Committee, City Director of Arts and Culture, the consulting team, and other civic leaders present</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>• Acknowledge funders and project sponsors</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>• Affirm the plan’s intended outcomes</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>• Present the scope of work, work plan and schedule</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>• Present results of the public survey</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>• Summarize historic context and acknowledge prior planning work (including relevant plans, studies, and other cultural and economic development plans to build upon)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>• Involve people in highly engaging exercises to identify community values, assets, vision, and challenges <em>(TBD – activities may involve small and large group brainstorming, post-it note exercises, theater games, visual art or other activities)</em></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>• Summarize key impressions and ideas from the session</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>• Thank participants, promote further opportunities to participate, and confirm next steps</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
We have convened many meetings to publicly launch cultural visioning, assessment, and planning. Our team believes in creating a welcoming, participatory, and enjoyable process. We feel it is important for people to have fun while planning, to make new friends, and to discover new things about their community and new ideas and ways of doing things. We will adapt our approach to the specific culture and preferences of Lawrence.
We will work with the Steering Committee to identify community members to participate, to expand our base of informants, to engage more people in planning, and to identify emerging leaders. Local groups will be called upon to promote the meeting. We locate the event in a public, fully accessible location, and fulfill legal or policy requirements to post notice of the meeting. Refreshments and time to mingle encourage networking among cultural, business, and economic development representatives.
Meeting results inform further deliberation of the Steering Committee as we develop and prioritize goals, objectives and strategies. We will concurrently examine goals in the Cultural District Task Force Report and other City documents to ensure alignment. We will then put the finishing touches on a draft vision, values, and strategies that will later be tested or vetted, and then adopted.
2. *Identify assets and challenges, and gather project ideas*
In addition to the interviews and public process described above, the visioning meeting gathers information on assets and challenges and identifies additional cultural and community building resources. We conclude the analysis of assets and challenges with a report that documents our findings. These include cultural assets and opportunities as well as things that limit or threaten the utilization of cultural resources to improve citizen’s quality of life and the community’s identity and future vision. We will also explore potential for profit creative assets that offer added value to an arts and culture strategy. These assessment reports become the basis for a cultural plan that builds on assets and responds to challenges.
One specific area of exploration will be the review of current and potential collaborations and partnerships that could create synergies, which will leverage resources and provide new revenue opportunities.
3. *Develop a project action plan*
The consultants visit mid-way through the process to conclude interviews and present results of the assets and challenges analysis and overall community assessment. At this stage we convene a planning retreat of the Steering Committee and City staff, and possibly other invited cultural and economic leaders. Here we present findings and explore potential strategies, action steps, and organizations that can take responsibility for implementing the resulting plan. This meeting informs a first draft of the plan.
We use this mid-project meeting as an opportunity to build on the group’s capacity to work together, as well as to elicit good thinking. We will report findings, confirm the results of our
assessment, define the critical opportunities and issues that the plan should address. Here we engage community leaders in generating initial strategies that become the basis of the plan. We identify responsibilities for implementation and begin to outline an implementation process. This active participation helps energize local cultural and civic leaders, give local ownership to the emerging plan, develop momentum, and build leadership capacity to implement the plan.
### Typical agenda for a four to five-hour Steering Committee mid-point retreat
| • Review progress in planning and confirm expectations for the planning retreat |
| • Discuss results of interviews and assessments |
| • Confirm opportunities and issues that the cultural plan will address – these are the topics for small group planning work after lunch |
| • Lunch break |
| • Participants break into smaller work groups to develop objectives and strategies |
| • Entire body discusses reports and recommendations from work groups |
| • Determine process for implementation of the Cultural Plan |
| • Consultant confirms next steps and timing to write the cultural plan |
From this point, the consulting team begins to draft the cultural plan. The plan will include identification of measures for future assessment based on the analysis described above. The plan will also identify opportunities for collaborative activities, ongoing collaborative working structures, and investment opportunities based upon cultural industry trends, facility locations and characteristics, market area, tourism activity, local competition, and potential market segments.
Implementation strategies will identify key barriers, strategic solutions, opportunities, costs, and benefits for achieving sustainable collaborative culture-based development and community activities. Stakeholders individually, and through the Steering Committee will be asked to devise strategies for overcoming obstacles. Potential public and private investors will also be identified as partners in implementation who can help create solutions and maximize opportunities. The plan will provide action strategies that include primary goals and objectives. Strategies will reference “best practices” relevant to this region and build upon the talents and resources of local residents and local assets.
4. **Identify long and short-term funding strategies for programs and facilities and identify entities responsible for implementation**
Consultants will evaluate costs for program initiatives and any possible facility improvement or construction and then identity revenue streams for their ongoing support. Considerations will include dedicated and discretionary public funds, private philanthropic funds, and operating budgets of existing organizations. *Pairing cultural programs and facilities with other City purposes and priorities, such as education, recreation, tourism or economic development is key in finding operating efficiencies, positioning them for long-term success, and enhancing their meaning in the community.* We will review potential economic incentives as well as any regulatory barriers.
As the point of planning is to steer future growth and/or change, the cultural plan will include action steps and implementation advice for each strategy as well as identify individuals and organizations invested in making progress in their community. For a plan to be an authentic and useful guide to decision-making and resource allocation, action steps are necessarily more specific in the short-term and more general in the long-term.
All the planning activities come down to one point: to develop agreed upon strategies that expand the community’s quality of life and economy by leveraging community arts and cultural and other creative assets; using partnerships among civic, cultural, business, and economic development organizations to achieve priority results.
We will provide an implementation matrix that will include a timeline, responsible parties, potential cost and revenue implications as well as any suggested changes in staffing, job descriptions, or other infrastructure resources.
TASK TWO Deliverables:
Results of Community Process
Vision, Values and Key Strategies/Focus Areas
Assets and Challenges Summary
Draft Strategic Plan
TASK THREE: Community Input and Administration
Test and Present Strategic Plan
In preparation for a public presentation of the Cultural Plan, consultants will present the draft plan along with recommended programs and action steps to the Steering Committee and City staff to facilitate discussion and review with other stakeholders. These will include the Mayor, City Manager, Department Directors, and other select institutional and community leaders identified through the planning process. A final conference call will be held between the consultants and the Steering Committee to discuss their review of the draft plan.
At the conclusion of the planning process we will present the complete draft plan. By the time of the presentation, community leaders who participated in the planning will have reviewed drafts and contributed comments that the consulting team will have incorporated into the plan. Ordinarily, we invite community leaders to review the plan in this final meeting and recommend final adjustments, so they feel a genuine sense of ownership and commitment to the plan.
**Typical agenda for a two-hour final plan presentation meeting**
- Welcome, acknowledge Steering Committee, leaders, funders, sponsors, and planners
- Summarize purpose and planning methods
- Present draft plan with a PowerPoint summary and the written plan
- Discuss the plan and its implications
- Consider any amendments necessary
- Discuss implementation and next steps to act on first priorities
This plan will be revised as necessary following the final presentation.
TASK THREE Deliverables:
- Final City-wide Cultural Plan, including:
- Recommendations for capital projects
- Organizational infrastructure plans
- Implementation Matrix
TASK FOUR: Approval and Implementation
We will:
- submit the final recommended plan to the City Director of Arts and Culture, and
- identify any recommended policy changes for the City
TASK FOUR Deliverable:
- Community Presentation of Final Strategic Cultural Plan
Draft WORK SCHEDULE
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>January</th>
<th><strong>Negotiate timetable, budget, deliverables and execute contract</strong> Conduct initial conversations with City Director and Steering Committee leadership</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>January</td>
<td><strong>Schedule first site visit, meetings with local leaders</strong> to get acquainted Set schedule of interviews, focus groups and, Steering Committee meetings</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>January-February</td>
<td><strong>Gather background information</strong>: Collect studies, master plans, economic plans, marketing materials; start inventory of local cultural and other key civic organizations; assemble demographic, economic, other data; plan public meeting; complete comparative model review</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>February</td>
<td><strong>Identity Report</strong> submitted. <strong>On-site visit</strong>: Conduct a 4 day visit including kickoff meeting with Steering Committee. <strong>Conduct interviews</strong> and focus groups with Steering Committee members, key civic and cultural leadership; <strong>Convene public Town Hall meeting</strong>, meet with Steering Committee, invited cultural and economic leaders to launch assessment, identify cultural assets; <strong>analysis of assets and challenges</strong></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>March</td>
<td><strong>Follow-up phone interviews</strong> of cultural and other civic, educational, and economic development organizations to reach those we could not interview face to face. <strong>Online survey administration. Plan mid-point Steering Committee meeting</strong></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>April</td>
<td><strong>Write assessment report</strong> to document results of assets and challenges analysis and analysis of demographics, economic data, and marketing materials</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>April</td>
<td><strong>Convene mid-point onsite meeting</strong> with Steering Committee, key partners and stakeholders; Report assessment results; define opportunities and critical issues for planning; develop strategies and action steps; confirm next steps in planning</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
May | **Draft Cultural Plan** and conduct additional meeting(s) with Steering Committee and staff by teleconference
---|---
May | **Revise and refine draft plan; Present plan on-site and vet with community leaders**
June | **Submit final draft Cultural Plan and Public Presentation of Plan**
End June | **Submit Final Approved Plan, write final summary report; Contract conclude**
### PROJECT BUDGET
**Christine Harris, Project Manager @ $150 per hour (80 hours)**
Primary responsibility for project management, data and research review, interviews, and final report development
**Thomas Borrup, Senior Consultant @ $150 per hour (67 hours)**
Primary responsibility for facilitating public and Committee meetings, examining other community models, and initial draft of Cultural Plan
- **Design, Presentation and Printing of Final Report**
- **Total**
**$12,000**
**$10,000**
**$2,000**
**$24,000**
### Travel Budget *Estimate*
Travel costs are estimated here and would be billed with actual receipts. The City may have access to hotel or rental car discounts that would reduce these costs.
- **4 site visits (January, February, April, June)**
- Airfare $250 x 2 persons x 4 visits
- Rental car ($40/day) x 3 days x 4 visits
- Hotel $120 x 2 persons x 2 nights x 4 visits
- Per diem $75 x 2 persons x 8 days
**$2,000**
**$480**
**$1,950**
**$1,200**
**Total Estimate**
**$5,630**
### Responsibility of City of Lawrence
- a project manager point person to work with Christine Harris, consultant team project manager
- staffing and minutes of all meetings
- conference calling logistics
RESUMES
CHRISTINE HARRIS
2460 N. 85th St
Wauwatosa, WI 53226-1912
(414) 379-1011 christine@charrisconnect.com
EXPERIENCE
July 2011 - Present
**CEO, Christine Harris Connections**
Founder of consultancy practice dedicated to building creative community. Includes being Executive Advisor to Creative Alliance Milwaukee. More details can be found at [www.charrisconnect.com](http://www.charrisconnect.com)
Mar 2011 – July 2011
**President and Executive Director, Creative Alliance Milwaukee**
Chief executive officer responsible for transition the Cultural Alliance into Creative Alliance Milwaukee following the publication of *Creativity Works! Milwaukee Regional Creative Industries Project*. Mission of Alliance – drive economic prosperity as a catalytic hub championing creativity through education, commerce and culture; advancing our creative industries.
Jan 2008 – Mar 2011
**President and Executive Director, Cultural Alliance of Greater Milwaukee**
Chief executive officer responsible for developing and delivering the mission of strengthen, advance, and represent the creative sectors as a vital asset for growing a vibrant, dynamic region. Spearheading efforts in advocacy, convening, and promoting our creative industries. Designed and produced research reports: *A Cultural Asset Inventory of Milwaukee 7; Strategic Audience Development*.
**President, United Performing Arts Fund, Milwaukee, WI.**
Chief executive officer responsible for implementing the strategic direction of the nation’s number one Fund dedicated to raising and allocating operating funds to the performing arts $10+ million annually. Re-engineered mission expands the focus to include additional support activities for members to ensure the excellence and sustainability of the performing arts sector as a contribution to a vibrant and dynamic region.
**Executive Director, Milwaukee Ballet Company, Milw, WI.**
Overseeing all administrative and fiscal functions of a $5 million professional performing arts company with over 100 employees and two unions. In turnaround situation, eliminated $1 million of debt in first 10 months. Balanced budgets all five years; raised visibility and credibility.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Date Range</th>
<th>Position Title</th>
<th>Description</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>July 1995 - April 1997</td>
<td>Executive Director, Institute for Music, Health and Education, Minneapolis, MN.</td>
<td>Responsible for directing and re-visioning non-profit designed to provide product and services to those interested in sound and music for wellness. International organization with sales of $400,000+ and 1,000 active students.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Sept. 1990 - July 1995</td>
<td>Consultant, Christine Harris Connections, Milwaukee, WI.</td>
<td>Recognized authority on strategic arts planning, audience development and arts education. Founded and directed the Milwaukee Symphony’s innovative ACE program, developing collaborations with City Ballet, Ko-Thi, Dancecircus, Present Music, Skylight, etc. Successfully assessed and improved marketing and strategic planning projects for individual organizations and at a community level. Clients included Alverno College, Milwaukee Foundation, Next Act, and UPAF, among others.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Feb. 1988 - Sept. 1988</td>
<td>Executive Director, Great Woods Institute for the Arts, Newton, MA.</td>
<td>Responsible for overseeing and directing the classical music festival and summer education program for the off-season residency of the Pittsburgh Symphony.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>June 1984 - Sept. 1990</td>
<td>Director of Audience Development, Milwaukee Symphony, Milwaukee, WI.</td>
<td>Management of over $4 million in revenues for one of the top 15 orchestras. Directed all marketing, sales, promotional and educational activities. Achieved record sales and initiated community collaboration. Regularly led seminars and workshops for the American Symphony Orchestra League, as well as writing articles for national arts publications.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
**COMMUNITY SERVICE**
Board service: VISIT Milwaukee (Exec Committee); Americans for the Arts’ National United Arts Fund Council; Helen Bader Institute for NonProfit Management Leadership Council (Exec Committee); Professional Dimensions; PEARLS for Teen Girls; Early Music Now.
Awards: Milwaukee Business Journal’s “Woman of Influence” in 2005; US Postal Service’s “Women Putting Their Stamp on Milwaukee” in 2006; the Sharon Lynne Wilson Center’s 2006 EDDY Award for regional arts collaboration; Civic Music Association ‘Distinguished Citizen’ Award in 2007; Milwaukee Public Theatre “Champion of the Arts” Award in 2010
NATIONAL SERVICE
Co-Founder of Creative Economy Coalition, a working committee of the National Creativity Network, www.nationalcreativitynetwork.org
EDUCATION
July 2002 Certificate of Completion. Three year Future Thinking Leadership Development. Center for Authentic Leadership, Atlanta, GA.
Dec. 1974 M.Sc. – Marketing and Consumer Sciences; University of Wisconsin, Madison, WI.
June 1972 B.Sc. – Retailing; University of Wisconsin, Madison, WI.
CURRENT and RECENT CLIENTS
*National Endowment for the Arts, D.C. (presenter on creative economy and designer of research America’s Creative Economy: A Study of Recent Conceptions, Definitions and Approaches to Measurement Across the USA) 2013
*National Creativity Network (lead author and researcher for “America’s Creative Economy: A Study of Recent Conceptions, Definitions and Approaches to Measurement Across the USA” 2013
*City of Austin Cultural Arts Division (Creative Sector Support Structure Needs Assessment) 2014
*Mount Mary University, WI (creative community engagement assessment and corporate creativity leadership program development) 2012 - present
*Creative Alliance Milwaukee (executive consultant) 2008-2014
*Arts Alliance of Portage County, WI (creative economy research, community planning) 2012-2013
*United Performing Arts Fund, WI (arts education grant design and allocation process development) 2012, 2013
*Arts Alliance Illinois, IL (creative economy research Board presentation) 2011, 2013
*Lindsey Bovinet, ISI, Inc., WI (project manager, development of downtown ‘creative hub’) 2012
*Greater Milwaukee Committee, WI (research and inventory creative collaborative work spaces)
*Cuyahoga Arts Council, OH (national grant reviewer) 2012, 2014
*Americans for the Arts (presenter) various since 2003
*Alverno College (keynote presentation on creativity) 2012
TEACHING and WORKSHOPS
-Adjunct Faculty: Creative Enterprise Seminar; University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, 2015
-Guest Lecturer: Arts Administration Seminar; University of Wisconsin-Madison Bolz Center for Arts Administration, 2014
-Faculty: Creative Enterprise in Today’s Economy; University of Wisconsin-Whitewater, 2013
-Moderator: Creative Milwaukee @ Work Conference, Creative Alliance Milwaukee, 2013
-Presenter: From Cultural Amenities to Creative Industries: Repositioning the Value and Identity of the Community’s Creative Assets, National Endowment for the Arts National Council, 2011
- Presenter: *The Creative Economy*, Urban Arts Federation – Americans for the Arts 2011; Arts Alliance Portage County 2013; National Endowment for the Arts 2012
- Panelist: *From Cultural Affairs to Creative Affairs*, Americans for the Arts Conference 2011
- Teaching Assistant: *Retailing* course; University of Wisconsin-Madison Business School 1974
**GRANT REVIEW PANELIST**
Cuyahoga Arts Council, Cleveland, Ohio 2012, 2014
Wisconsin Arts Board – various between 2003-2008
Milwaukee Arts Board – various between 2004-2010
**PUBLICATIONS**
*America’s Creative Economy: A Study of Recent Conceptions, Definitions and Approaches to Measurement Across the USA*, National Creativity Network Press, 2013
*The Role of Creative Education in Preparing Tomorrow’s Talent*, 2012
*Creativity Works! Milwaukee Regional Creative Industries Report*, 2010
*Greater Milwaukee’s Regional Cultural Assets: An Inventory of Pride* 2008
*Selling the Experience*, American Symphony Orchestra League Magazine, circa 1987
Tom possesses extensive knowledge and experience with a wide range of cultural work, community building, and nonprofit management. He served as executive director of Intermedia Arts, a leading community-based pioneer in the field of arts-based community development 1980 - 2002. He serves as a consultant to cities, foundations and nonprofits across the U.S.
Tom teaches as an adjunct for several university programs in urban planning and in arts and cultural management. He authored the *Creative Community Builder’s Handbook*, 2006, a book that remains the leading text and guide to transforming communities through arts and culture. He is presently pursuing his doctorate through the Antioch University Ph.D. Program in Leadership and Change. His research and dissertation address the role of organizational and social networks in the planning and ongoing management of cultural districts.
**EDUCATION**
- Ph.D. Candidate – Leadership and Change, Antioch University, Yellow Springs, OH, present
- Master of Arts, Communications & Public Policy, Goddard College, Plainfield, VT, 1983
- Knight Fellow in Community Building, Univ. of Miami School of Architecture, Miami, FL, 2002
- Bachelor of Arts, Liberal Arts, Goddard College, 1978
- Certificate, Cultural Leadership/Managing the Arts Enterprise, New York University Graduate School of Public Administration, New York, NY, 1987
**LEADERSHIP & ORGANIZATIONAL DEVELOPMENT EXPERIENCE**
**Principal and Consultant, Creative Community Builders, Minneapolis, MN (2002-Present)**
Help clients identify and leverage cultural and creative assets for community revitalization and change. Develop strategic positioning, measurable outcomes, and plans to integrate cultural, social, economic and design strategies.
**Executive Director, Intermedia Arts, Minneapolis, MN (1980-2002)**
Led nationally recognized community-based center, a national model in advancing arts based community development, interdisciplinary and cross-cultural collaborations.
- Completed capital campaign, designed and built state-of-the-art community cultural center.
- Created partnerships with over 200 activist, arts, educational and business organizations to develop and implement programs serving a multi-ethnic community.
- Raised over $1 million annually from local, regional and national sources.
- Developed Institute for Community Cultural Development, a unique 6-month program for
arts administrators, artists and community development professionals to explore, practice and evaluate arts-based community development projects.
Directed visual and media arts gallery, artist working space and media arts education through Community College of Vermont.
**Director, National Conference on Public Access Cable Television, Community Video Center, San Diego, CA (1978).** Designed and led ground-breaking cross-sector national conference.
**TEACHING AND LECTURING**
- Instructor, Knowlton School of Architecture, Ohio State University, Certificate in Creative Placemaking (2013-present)
- Instructor, Rutgers University, Bloustein School of Planning, Creative Placemaking Master Practitioner Certificate Program (2012-2013)
- Adjunct Professor, Drexel University, Philadelphia, Graduate Program in Arts and Cultural Management (Cultural Planning, 2009-Present)
- Instructor, Saint Mary’s University of Minnesota, Graduate Program in Arts and Cultural Management, Minneapolis, MN (Cultural Studies, Arts & Community Development, 2004-Present)
- Faculty, University of Massachusetts, Continuing Education/Arts Extension Service, Amherst, MA (Creative Economy, 2003-Present)
- Recent Guest Lectures: Allegheny College, Meadville, PA; Brown University, Providence, RI; University of Minnesota/Humphrey Institute, Cultural Leadership, Minneapolis, MN; University Of Massachusetts, Landscape Architecture and Regional Planning, Amherst, MA; University of Miami School of Architecture, Miami, FL; University of Minnesota, Department of Art, Minneapolis, MN; Macalester College, St. Paul, MN
**ORGANIZATIONAL FUNDING REVIEW**
- Kresge Foundation, Community Arts Initiative, Tucson, AZ, 2010
- Ford Foundation, Community Development and the Arts Initiative, 2003-2009
- Creative Capital Foundation, State Partnership Program, 2005
- Rockefeller Foundation, Partnerships Affirming Community Transformation, 2002-2003
- Jerome Foundation, Ongoing funding and policy review, 1994-2003
- Walter and Elise Haas Foundation, Creative Work Fund, San Francisco, 2000
- Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, 10-year Foundation policy review, 1998
- Lila Wallace Readers' Digest Fund, Exemplary Community Arts Centers, 1998
- Ohio Arts Council, site evaluations, policy and grant reviews, Columbus, OH, 1986-1989
- McKnight Foundation/Minneapolis Arts Commission, 1982-1985
National Endowment for the Arts, Review Panelist:
• Design Arts/Mayor’s Institute on City Design, 2010
• Visual Arts, 2009
• Multidisciplinary National Services, 2003
• Museums and Visual Arts Policy and Planning, 1995
• Visual Artists Organizations, 1993
• Advancement, 1993
• Presenting and Commissioning, 1990-1994
• Film and Video Screening, 1989
• Media Arts Centers, 1988
• Design Arts Program, 1983
• Regional Film/Video Fellowships, 1983
PUBLICATIONS/ARTICLES
Shaping a Creative Milieu: Creativity, Process, Pedagogy, Leadership, and Place, an interdisciplinary survey of research in relation to conditions and processes important in fostering creativity, Journal of Urban Culture Research, 2010.
Something Different Is Stirring: DIY Culture in Silicon Valley, an in-depth inventory and analysis of the formal cultural infrastructure of Silicon Valley revealed rapid changes in the Industrial Age models of cultural organization, Community Arts Network, May 2010.
Creative City Fever: The 2010 City, Culture and Society Conference, Munich, a report from a 2010 creative city conference where academics from Singapore, Tokyo, Auckland, Toronto, Rotterdam and other world-class cities explored vexing questions about creative-economy development, Community Arts Network, April 2010.
Compare/Contrast: Cities, regions, even entire nations, are pursuing the Creative Economy. What can we learn from Singapore, Glasgow, and Ogulin?, Architecture Boston, Vol. 12 No. 3, August 19, 2009.
There’s No Place Like Silicon Valley: An Emerging Cultural Ecosystem for the 21st Century, a Report on the Cultural Infrastructure of California’s Silicon Valley By Creative Community Builders for 1st Act Silicon Valley, July 2009.
The Creative Economy: Views from Abroad, thoughts on place, culture, creativity and economic livelihood from the 2008 Creative Clusters Conference in Glasgow, Scotland, Community Arts Network, January 2009.
Higher Ground: Informal Arts, Cultural Policy and the Evolving Role of Nonprofits. With the rise of the creative class, prosumers, Pro-ams and Net-Geners, are nonprofit cultural institutions outdated? Community Arts Network, July 2007.
Up from the Roots: Re-examining the Flow of Economic and Creative Capital, thoughts on connections between informal arts practices and grassroots economic development, Grantmakers in the Arts READER, Summer, 2006.
Culture as Community Connector, a survey of arts organizations leading community transformation, and of research evaluating the effectiveness of these practices, Progressive Planning, Fall 2005.
What’s Radical About Valuing Assets as a Strategy in Cultural Work, a description of how asset-based practices used by artists and cultural organizations relate to other community development practitioners, Community Arts Network, 2005.
Thinking Outside the Cubicle? Does the 501(c)(3) Box Stifle Creativity in the Dot-com Era? Examining Maribel Alvarez’ book, There’s Nothing Informal About It: Participatory Arts Within the Cultural Ecology of Silicon Valley, this article explores similarities between informal arts and high-tech cultural, and how conventional arts institutions are letting down audiences, Community Arts Network, 2006.
The State of Film: Massachusetts Media Arts Organizations Grow a Community of Practice and the Practice of Community, review of a foundation and nonprofit partnership to elevate the role of independent media arts as a force in the creative economy, commissioned by the LEF Foundation. National Alliance for Media Arts and Culture, San Francisco, CA, Spring 2005.
Urban Alchemy: In Search a Formula for the City of Tomorrow, a report on the Bruner/Loeb Symposium on Transforming Communities through the Arts, Chicago Cultural Center, November, 2003, Community Arts Network, January 2004.
Putting the Arts to Work in Neighborhoods: Creating Active Public Spaces, a survey of cultural organizations working to revitalize communities, and current research confirming their multiple impacts, Ford Foundation Reports, Spring 2004.
The Dialectic of Community Arts Practice and Globalization, or Is This Parade Going the Wrong Way? reflections on community-based arts practices in communities with changing demographics, Community Arts Network, June 2003.
Toward Asset-Based Community Cultural Development: A Journey Through the Disparate Worlds of Community Building, reflections on cross-over activities between professions and practices, Community Arts Network, April 2003.
RECENT PROFESSIONAL/COMMUNITY SERVICE
Board of Directors, Appalshop, Inc., Whitesburg, KY; strategic planning and operational policy for this major, regional, multi-disciplinary Appalachian cultural production center. (2004-present)
Board of Directors and Treasurer, Phillips Community TV, Minneapolis, MN; assist with program and management development with inner city youth leadership development organization. (2004-2010)
Elliot Park Neighborhood, Inc., Minneapolis, MN, (eastern edge of downtown), Board of Directors, Building Land Use and Housing Committee; task forces to review developer proposals for residential and mixed-use high-rise projects. (2004-2007)
Board of Directors and Chair, Jerome Foundation, St. Paul, MN; set policy and guided over $5 million in annual grantmaking; investment committee, provided oversight of more than $100 million in assets. Two terms as Board Chair. (1994-2003)
Board of Directors, VOICE in Phillips, a multi-ethnic organizing and funding group (Minneapolis, Ford and Mott Foundations) to employ asset-based community development practices and seed ABCD projects within the city’s poorest and most diverse neighborhood. (1999-2003)
AWARDS
• Leadership Initiatives in Neighborhoods, St. Paul Companies and the Amherst H. Wilder Foundation, 2002; including a sabbatical grant to travel and study innovative community development programs
• Knight Fellowship in Community Building, University of Miami School of Architecture, Miami, FL, 2002
• U.S. Bank/Sally Ordway Irvine Award for Artistic Initiative, St. Paul, MN, 1996
• Jerome Foundation Travel and Study Grant, St. Paul, MN, 1987, to spend six weeks researching contemporary arts centers in Western Europe
• George Stoney Award, National Federation of Local Cable Programmers (now Alliance for Community Media), Washington, D.C., 1982, annual award to an individual for contribution to the field of community television |
TESTED BY FIRE
Fired Materials
March 3, 2023
Salem, Massachusetts
Association for Preservation Technology
NORTHEAST CHAPTER
2023
Annual Meeting & Symposium
The Association of Preservation Technology Northeast Chapter (APTNE) is happy to present the 2023 APTNE Annual Meeting & Symposium, on Friday, March 3, 2023, with an in-person event held in Salem, MA, as well as a virtual program. The overarching theme of the 2023 APTNE Annual Meeting & Symposium is fired materials and will feature presentations from professionals, emerging practitioners, and local students.
Fired materials run the gamut from utilitarian clay sewer pipes and brick masonry, to ornate art tile and polychrome terra cotta. Their usage has allowed buildings, cities, and regions to grow rapidly or take on unique visual characteristics.
How have these materials evolved over time and how have our cities and towns evolved with them? What challenges are present when trying to restore or protect fired materials manufactured in a different time period with different processes and materials? Have some past restoration techniques evolved, while others have stood the test of time? What role do fired materials have in the evolution of fireproofing in buildings?
Tested by Fire: Fired Materials
The following are presentations on the topic of fired materials and the evolution of fireproofing in buildings.
Presentations must be tied to one of the following tracks:
1. History and evolution of fired materials- brick, ceramics, terra cotta, glass, singed heavy timber
2. Analysis of fired materials and evolving research
3. Challenges of matching historic fired materials in a changing economy and regulatory environment (glazes, limited manufacturing, aesthetics, etc.)
4. Cultural significance of fired materials in vernacular architecture
5. New interventions and revisiting previous restoration techniques
Schedule of Events
Thursday, March 2
4:00 PM - 5:00 PM Tour 1: Trolley Tour
Salem Trolley
Friday, March 3
8:00 AM - 9:00 AM Registration and Breakfast
First Floor
9:00 AM - 9:10 AM APTNE WELCOME ADDRESS
Outgoing APTNE President, Helena Currie, PE & Incoming APTNE President, Corey Spitzer
9:10 AM - 9:55 AM MORNING KEYNOTE PRESENTATION
How Masonry Will Save the World
Roy Ingraffia, AIA, FA-AIC, APT-RR, International Masonry Institute
9:55 AM - 10:20 AM Brick Masonry Gymnastics: Pushing the Structural Limits on Historic 17th through Mid-19th Century Chimney Masses
Elizabeth Acly, PE, APT-RR, Cirrus Structural Engineering
10:20 AM - 10:35 AM The Claypole Kils and Birth of the American Portland Cement Industry
10:35 AM - 10:45 AM Q&A
Michelle Dalhoff, RA, WJE Engineers & Architects
10:45 AM - 11:05 AM Coffee Break
11:05 AM - 11:20 AM Salem Prepares to Commemorate its Quadricentennial
Patricia Keleher, Salem Department of Planning and Community Development
11:20 AM - 11:45 AM Subway Tile: From Platform to Backsplash
Edward FitzGerald, Jablonski Building Conservation, Inc.
11:45 AM - 12:10 PM Structural Restoration and Renovation of Terra Cotta Materials
Jonathan Hernandez, PE, SEC, & Mark Beltramello, PE Gilans Murray Steficek
12:10 PM - 12:20 PM Q&A
Michelle Dalhoff, RA, WJE Engineers & Architects
12:20 PM - 12:30 PM CHAPTER HIGHLIGHTS
APTN Annual Board Meeting, The Library
12:30 PM - 2:00 PM Lunch, Second Floor
APTNE Annual Board Meeting, The Library
2:00 PM - 2:45 PM AFTERNOON KEYNOTE PRESENTATION
Guastavino Vaulting and the Art of Fireproofing
John Oschendorf, PhD, Massachusetts Institute of Technology
2:45 PM - 3:10 PM Preserving Gauged Brick Arches at Old South Meeting House, Boston
Ivan Myjer, Building and Monument Conservation
3:10 PM - 3:35 PM Splash Up! Repairing and Replicating Guastavino Tile at the Iconic Plymouth Rock Portico
Jack Glassman, AIA, LEED AP, National Park Service
3:35 PM - 3:50 PM Use of Rainscreen Cladding Building Systems to Promote the Rebuild of Historic Terra Cotta Assemblies
Joshua Jaskowiak, PE & Matthew Haberling, PE, WJE Engineers & Architects
3:50 PM - 4:00 PM Q&A
Jennifer Karamay, Jablonski Building Conservation
4:00 PM - 4:20 PM Coffee Break
4:20 PM - 4:45 PM Collar Joint Stabilization in Fired Clay Masonry Assemblies
John Wathne, PE, VoidSpan Technologies, LLC & Norman Weiss, FAIC, FAPT, FSA
4:45 PM - 5:10 PM Performance Testing of Materials to Repair Terra Cotta Glaze Spalls
Lauren DiCenzo, PE & Carolyn Seals, PE, Simpson Gumpertz & Heger Inc.
5:10 PM - 5:35 PM Traditional Chinese Roofing Tiles in Salem, MA
William Brandow & Clay Palazzo, AIA, LEED AP, John G. Waite Associates, Architects
5:35 PM - 5:45 PM Q&A
Jennifer Karamay, Jablonski Building Conservation
5:45 PM - 5:50 PM CLOSING REMARKS
APTNE President, Helena Currie, PE
6:00 PM - 8:00 PM Reception
Peabody Essex Museum/East India Hall
Saturday, March 4
All Day
Discounted Tickets to Peabody Essex Museum
10:00 AM - 12:00 PM Tour 2: House of the Seven Gables
Paul Wright, Director of Preservation
10:15 AM - 11:00 AM Tour 3: Specialized Tour of Yin Yu Tang House at the Peabody Essex Museum
William Brandow & Clay Palazzo, AIA, LEED AP, John G. Waite Associates, Architects
11:00 AM - 11:45 AM Tour 4: Historic Essex County Courthouse in Salem, MA
Ivan Myjer, Building and Monument Conservation
12:00 PM - 1:00 PM Lunch, Second Floor
APTNE Annual Board Meeting, The Library
12:45 PM - 1:00 PM Coffee Break
2:00 PM - 4:00 PM Decorative Wall Cladding Case Studies: Evolution of Materials and Systems to Promote the Rebuild of Historic Terra Cotta Assemblies
Joshua Jaskowiak, PE & Matthew Haberling, PE, WJE Engineers & Architects
4:00 PM - 4:15 PM Q&A
Jennifer Karamay, Jablonski Building Conservation
4:15 PM - 4:30 PM Performance Testing of Materials to Repair Terra Cotta Glaze Spalls
Lauren DiCenzo, PE & Carolyn Seals, PE, Simpson Gumpertz & Heger Inc.
4:30 PM - 4:45 PM Use of Rainscreen Cladding Building Systems to Promote the Rebuild of Historic Terra Cotta Assemblies
Joshua Jaskowiak, PE & Matthew Haberling, PE, WJE Engineers & Architects
4:45 PM - 5:00 PM Q&A
Jennifer Karamay, Jablonski Building Conservation
5:00 PM - 6:00 PM Reception
Peabody Essex Museum/East India Hall
6:00 PM - 8:00 PM Reception
Peabody Essex Museum/East India Hall
Additional events include:
- Accessibility Tour of Yin Yu Tang House at the Peabody Essex Museum
- Tourism Training for Tourism Professionals
Other highlights include:
- Historical tour of the Salem Maritime National Historic Site
- Guided tour of the Salem Trolley
- Walking tour of the Salem Maritime National Historic Site
For more information, visit www.aptne.org.
Originally founded as the APT New York Chapter in the mid-1980s, the organization was restructured in 2003 as the Association for Preservation Technology Northeast Chapter (APTNE) encompassing New England, New York State, and northern New Jersey. At present, we have over 300 active members.
APTNE is committed to serving this geographic community with regional and local preservation events and outreach. We conduct workshops, co-sponsor events with local and statewide preservation organizations, and sponsor symposia, including our annual meeting in early March. We support students interested in preservation by offering free student membership and discounted young professional membership and event admission, as well as annual scholarship opportunities.
Thank you!
As of March 3, 2023, four of our Directors are stepping off of the Board of Directors. We’d like to take the opportunity to thank each of them for their time and dedication to making APTNE excellent during their terms.
New incoming executive board
Who we are
2022-2023 Board Members
Helena Currie
President
Corey Spitzer
Vice President
Patricia S. Palmiere
Secretary
Jacqueline Bascetta
Treasurer
Alafia Akhtar
Mark Anderson
Scott Aquilina
Sloane Bullough
Adrienne Cali
Brigitte Cook
Michelle Dallhoff
Kevin Daly
Ken Follett
Jennifer Kearney
Charles Kramer
Ellen Lane
Connie Mugno
James Norberg
Jess Ouwerkerk
Stacey Thomas
Jill Verhosek
(Promoted April 30, 2022)
Please welcome our 4 new board members!
Who we are
2022-2023 Board Members
Connie Mugno
6 years of service
Mark Anderson
6 years of service
Scott Aquilina
3 years of service
Jill Verhosek
7 years of service
Benjamin Lueck
is from Rhode Island and works for RODE Architects as an Associate. With 18 years of industry experience focusing on historic preservation, adaptive reuse, and institutional clients within the higher education field, Amanda has been instrumental to RODE’s success not only with projects, as well as playing key role as mentor. She recently spearheaded the firm-wide initiative of signing on to the AIA 2030 Commitment and leads the Sustainability Committee, ensuring that all of the firm’s projects and internal operations meet established goals. Amanda studied at Iowa State University, where she obtained her Bachelor of Architecture degree. Prior to joining RODE, she was a Senior Associate at Goody Clancy. Amanda has been an active member of the Boston Preservation Alliance since 2014, where she participates on the Advocacy Committee and Awards Committee. Amanda has been involved in APT at both the international and regional level since 2011 as a member, participant, and presenter.
Amanda Sanders
is from Boston and works at RODE Architects as an Associate. With 18 years of industry experience focusing on historic preservation, adaptive reuse, and institutional clients within the higher education field, Amanda has been instrumental to RODE’s success not only with projects, as well as playing key role as mentor. She recently spearheaded the firm-wide initiative of signing on to the AIA 2030 Commitment and leads the Sustainability Committee, ensuring that all of the firm’s projects and internal operations meet established goals. Amanda studied at Iowa State University, where she obtained her Bachelor of Architecture degree. Prior to joining RODE, she was a Senior Associate at Goody Clancy. Amanda has been an active member of the Boston Preservation Alliance since 2014, where she participates on the Advocacy Committee and Awards Committee. Amanda has been involved in APT at both the international and regional level since 2011 as a member, participant, and presenter.
Pamela Clemens
is from Massachusetts and works for Goody Clancy where she is an Associate. She brings an expertise in sensitive renovations to historic structures, revitalizing buildings that communities will cherish for years to come. Her projects have ranged from restoration of the 1790 Akin House Museum, whose mission focuses on teaching local history to young students, to overhauling a 1970’s dormitory building into a vibrant, open place focused on community. She believes that historic buildings create a connection between past, present and future occupants strengthening a multi-generational community bond. To every project, she brings an excitement to understanding that community connection focuses on guiding the adaptation and preservation of an existing building as a means of accommodating present and future uses. She received her B.S./M.Arch from Roger Williams University.
Benjamin Lueck
is from Rhode Island and works for RODE Architects as an Associate. With 18 years of industry experience focusing on historic preservation, adaptive reuse, and institutional clients within the higher education field, Amanda has been instrumental to RODE’s success not only with projects, as well as playing key role as mentor. She recently spearheaded the firm-wide initiative of signing on to the AIA 2030 Commitment and leads the Sustainability Committee, ensuring that all of the firm’s projects and internal operations meet established goals. Amanda studied at Iowa State University, where she obtained her Bachelor of Architecture degree. Prior to joining RODE, she was a Senior Associate at Goody Clancy. Amanda has been an active member of the Boston Preservation Alliance since 2014, where she participates on the Advocacy Committee and Awards Committee. Amanda has been involved in APT at both the international and regional level since 2011 as a member, participant, and presenter.
Please welcome our 4 new board members!
Congratulations to APTNE’s 2023 Student Scholarship Recipients!
JAMES CHURCHILL
Columbia University, New York
APTNE is proud to announce that James Churchill is the 2023 Melissa Morrissey Scholarship Fund Recipient. James stands out as a highly active, engaged and accomplished “non-traditional” student member of APTNE. In the years since receiving his bachelor’s degree, James worked in various preservation-related positions and became actively involved in several APT Chapters. In the past year, James presented at APTI’s Annual Conference in Detroit and organized a tour of the “Lucy the Elephant” restoration project for the APT Delaware Valley Chapter. Currently working towards his Masters in Architecture in New York, James brings his wide range of professional and academic experiences to the Northeast Chapter. By continuing to broaden his academic knowledge, professional experiences, and preservation skillsets, he hopes to bring the multi-disciplinary preservation field closer together. James’ story emphasizes the importance of continuous learning and sharing professional experiences to propel the industry forward.
ANGELA FERNANDES
Cornell University, New York
APTNE is proud to announce that Angela Fernandes is the 2023 Jill Verhosek Scholarship Fund Recipient. Understanding the impact of climate change on historic districts and the integral role of preservation in mitigation planning, Angela collaborated with the Mayor’s Office of Climate and Environmental Justice to study climate resiliency strategies in disinvested neighborhoods throughout the state of New York. Through this experience and her academic coursework, Angela is experienced in a range of preservation tools for mapping and analysis that help develop targeted interventions to mitigate climate hazards, such as coastal flooding and heat surge. Her thesis aims to review existing regulations and guidelines related to climate adaptation and mitigation of historic districts, buildings and sites, within the context of preservation standards and principles, to propose context-driven policies that promote preservation as a critical climate mitigation tool. Angela’s passion for preservation and plan to make actionable change is an inspiration.
IN MEMORY OF JILL VERHOSEK
1977 – 2022
JILL THANH-PHUONG VERHOSEK was born June 21, 1977, in Ashtabula, Ohio, passed away in Boston on the evening of April 30, 2022, after being admitted to Beth Israel Hospital. Family and friends were by her side and she did not suffer.
An extraordinary preservation architect, a diehard Atlanta Braves fan, and a follower of comedian Kathleen Madigan, Jill began each day watching live cam videos of sea otters, because, as she said, the playful animals helped keep life in perspective and made her laugh.
Jill grew up in North Charleston, South Carolina, where she graduated from R. B. Stall High School, Class of ’95. She graduated Magna cum Laude with a Bachelor of Science in Design from Clemson University in 1999 and earned a Master of Science in Historic Preservation from the University of Pennsylvania in 2006. Her lifelong love of travel was a reflection of her insatiable curiosity for different cultures and places; it led her to explore the world, and its historic buildings, far and wide. She brought that same commitment and curiosity to her work as a historic preservationist. As a Senior Associate at Goody Clancy, a Boston design firm, Jill was an essential member of the firm’s preservation practice group and the technical advisor on their most prestigious and complex projects throughout the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic.
Jill was a strong, smart woman who many were lucky to call a friend and colleague. She is survived by her parents Larry and Lan Verhosek, her brother Bill and wife Rhoda Verhosek, her sister Lynne Verhosek and partner Linda Stoeckert, and her nephew and niece Edward and Dasha whom she adored.
As a long-time APTNE board member and chair of the APTNE Events Committee, she helped develop a robust events program within the organization, as well as spearheaded the development of our virtual programs beginning in 2019. She always aimed to bring our membership’s knowledge and experience to everyone seeking to learn.
The Jill Verhosek Scholarship fund was created and named in honor of our late friend, colleague, and APTNE Board Member. This fund will be used to support an annual scholarship for students and emerging professionals who are passionate about the field of preservation.
In APT, she found peers and friends in the diverse professions that celebrate and sustain heritage. APTNE is proud to share Jill’s profound impact on the preservation community and carry forward her legacy.
To donate to this fund, please go to our website or scan this QR code, which will bring you directly to the donation page.
THE PRESERVATION & RESTORATION FIELD, like so many other industries and areas of practice is at a unique crossroads. Issues that were once either ignored or passed off for others to address are now very much at the forefront and in the open for discussion. Technical and philosophical strategies for repair and preservation of our cultural resources cannot and should not be attempted without discussing how they impact and address social equity, skilled & fair labor practices, and sustainability. We, as practicing preservation professionals, have a very important role to play in people-based preservation as well as an obligation to tackle these critical issues.
The environmental issues of our generation were set in motion decades ago. And while we try and triage the immediate problems related to our unique professional field, we need to be laying the groundwork for our successors to tackle and manage the outcome of choices brought about by our own actions. The architectural community has the 2030 Challenge, structural engineers have the SE 2050 Challenge, where is the Preservation Challenge? More than any one group of professionals, we have the ability to alter the course of how we as a society use and reuse buildings while preserving our cultural heritage. We also understand the value of place and the significance of methodology, and the benefits of a multi-disciplinary approach to problem solving. We are problem solvers. So why have we not attempted to tackle this problem as a field? This should be our call to action.
ROY INGRAFFIA directs IMI’s marketing, industry development, research, and technical services programs nationwide. In his leadership role, Roy manages all aspects of day-to-day operations and long-term partnerships and initiatives. As an architectural conservator with technical experience in design and contracting capacities, his professional work has primarily focused on the preservation of historic masonry structures through research of traditional materials/methods and development of contemporary restoration techniques. He is an Associate of the American Institute of Architects (AIA) and a Professional Associate of the American Institute for Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works (AIC), and Recognized Professional of the Association for Preservation Technology International (APT). In addition to his work with IMI, Roy teaches the Masonry Conservation Seminar within the Graduate Program in Historic Preservation at the University of Pennsylvania.
This presentation will explore both challenges and opportunities for the future of our field and in particular how the masonry and tile industry is tackling some of these critical issues.
“THE ARCHITECTURAL
COMMUNITY HAS THE
2030 CHALLENGE,
STRUCTURAL ENGINEERS
HAVE THE SE 2050
CHALLENGE, WHERE
IS THE PRESERVATION
CHALLENGE?”
ROY INGRAFFIA
PRESENTED BY
How Masonry Will
Save the World
Presented By Roy Ingraffia, AIA, PA-AIC, APT-RP
BRICK MASONRY GYMNASTICS: PUSHING THE STRUCTURAL LIMITS ON HISTORIC 17TH THROUGH MID-19TH CENTURY CHIMNEY MASSES
Presented By Elizabeth Acly, PE, APT-RP
Elizabeth Acly, PE, APT-RP is a preservation structural engineer and principal at Cirrus Structural Engineering in Columbia, CT. She has over 20 years of experience investigating, analyzing, and restoring historic buildings. Ms. Acly founded Cirrus in 2010 around her passion for preserving historic, cultural and environmental resources. Ms. Acly and Cirrus specialize in structural engineering, building envelope engineering and construction history, emphasizing holistic assessment and treatments and supporting historic building stewardship throughout the northeast.
Ms. Acly holds a bachelor's degree in Civil Engineering from Bucknell University and a master's degree in Structural Engineering from Georgia Tech. Ms. Acly is a professionally licensed Structural Engineer in multiple states in the northeast and an APT Registered Professional. She currently sits on the Connecticut Historic Preservation Council and served on APTNE’s Board of Directors from 2006 to 2010.
THE COPLAY KILNS AND THE BIRTH OF THE AMERICAN PORTLAND CEMENT INDUSTRY
Presented By Preston Hull
THE COPLAY CEMENT COMPANY KILNS are monuments to the Lehigh Valley’s role as the birthplace of the United States cement industry. Coplay Cement was founded by David O. Saylor, who first proved that modern “portland” cement could be successfully manufactured in the United States instead of imported from Europe (and whose name adorns bags of portland to this day). The nine kilns, now standing in the middle of a community park, were once part of an entire complex of cement plants along the Lehigh River. Today, the kiln complex—an important symbol to the tiny borough of Coplay—is deteriorating dramatically. In particular, several large brick “blowouts” have prompted Lehigh County to fence the site of.
The Coplay kilns represent a transitional technology in the evolution of Portland cement manufacturing. Early cements were fired in intermittent “bottle” kilns similar to those used for many other fired materials. In contrast, the continuous rotary kiln has been emblematic of Portland cement manufacture since the early 20th century. But in the late 19th century, inventors experimented with a variety of kiln designs that sought to achieve efficient, continuous firing without the warmup and cooldown periods associated with traditional methods. The “Aalborg” kilns constructed in Coplay are the only known surviving examples of one such design that was constructed from Canada to China.
The presentation will examine the kilns’ history, from their invention in Denmark to the present day, and that history’s implication in the kilns’ current condition. The kilns have experienced dramatic changes in their use and environment since their first firing in 1895: originally enclosed within a four-story building, they were left exposed to the elements upon its demolition in 1950. In 1975, a greenhouse-like museum was constructed at the kilns’ base, which closed due to moisture issues in the 1990s. The kilns’ history highlights the special considerations involved in conserving industrial heritage sites—particularly of structural machines such as kilns.
Preston Hull has been an Architectural Conservator at the Philadelphia office of Building Conservation Associates, Inc. since 2016. He specializes in research in all forms—particularly in synthesizing field investigations and “building archaeology” with archival research. He has prepared Historic Structure Reports, including an 18th-century plantation house and a 19th-century tenant farmer house owned by the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center in Edgewater, Maryland; eight domestic outbuildings at Hampton National Historic Site in Towson, Maryland; and a lock tender’s house located along the former Schuylkill Canal in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania.
Before joining BCA, Mr. Hull worked on a range of projects, from a GIS-based survey of historic cowhouses in the Sharswood neighborhood of Philadelphia to comprehensive documentation of slate and cement industrial sites in the Lehigh Valley. Mr. Hull’s thesis work delved deeper into this industrial history, tracing the technological evolution and later deterioration of a complex of 19th-century cement kilns in Coplay, Pennsylvania.
A native of Gettysburg, Mr. Hull has a strong interest in preserving the built history of the Mid-Atlantic, with a particular focus on vernacular architecture and industrial sites. He is on the Board of Directors of the Association for Preservation Technology’s Delaware Valley Chapter (APT-DVC), and an instructor in the Historic Preservation program at Bucks County Community College.
While vernacular 17th, 18th and mid-19th century chimneys, fireboxes, and their architectural chimney breasts have received much focus in the architectural history and preservation spheres, the chimney masses concealed behind the walls that connect the visible architectural elements have not. These chimney masses are mostly concealed behind walls in finished spaces but are often exposed in basements and attics. These structures are almost completely utilitarian. Like other historic components, the form and construction of chimney masses evolved in concert with societal and building technology. This paper gives a glimpse behind the walls of 17th through mid-19th century vernacular architecture from the northeast.
As Salem prepares to commemorate its quadricentennial in 2026, the city is honoring its past 400+ years as it looks towards the future. The community’s rich history is woven throughout its physical fabric and its historic buildings chronicle Salem’s four centuries of growth and development.
Masonry, particularly fired brick, has been an integral construction material in Salem used for building foundations, exterior envelopes and chimneys, as well as for structures such as lighthouses and fortifications. In the early 20th century, fired masonry played a crucial role in the city’s rebuilding efforts after the Great Salem Fire of 1914 destroyed more than 1,300 structures and entire neighborhoods. Today, Salem’s brick buildings - ranging from Georgian and Federal era mansions on Chestnut Street and the Salem Common, to monumental civic and commercial buildings along the harbor and in the downtown, as well as early and mid-20th century Classical Revival apartment buildings in the fire rebuilding area - stand as visual reminders of Salem’s heritage.
The Salem Historical Commission, which oversees community wide preservation planning and regulatory design review in the city’s four locally designated historic districts, advocates for the preservation of these buildings through its newly updated design guidelines for brick repair and restoration, which includes guidance on replicating historic pointing techniques, mortar composition, and bond patterns as well as appropriate cleaning methods.
PATRICIA KELLEHER has served as the City of Salem’s Preservation Planner for the past seven years, providing guidance to the Salem Historical Commission on proposed building projects in Salem’s four local historic districts as well as preservation projects citywide. She has more than 25 years of experience in historic preservation planning.
Subway Tile: From Platform to Backsplash
Presented By Edward FitzGerald
Over the past decade, subway tile has seen a major resurgence in popularity in people's kitchens and bathrooms. But where did this 3-by-6-inch white tile come from? Popular legend says that it was invented for the first New York City subway stations. However, that is more lore than fact. Subway tile is a type of tile used in public bathing facilities in 1895, and the Tenement Act of 1901 required large cities to provide sanitary tile to public bathrooms. This tile stripped away artistic embossed textures and decorative glazes to provide a perfectly flat face and "sanitary" gloss white or ivory glaze that would be impervious against germs and easy to clean.
Capitalizing on the new craze for cleanliness, an art tile manufacturer, the American Encaustic Tiling Company (AET Co.), began to market a new "sanitary" tile with advertisements suggesting uses in hospitals, kitchens, public baths, and bathrooms. This tile stripped away artistic embossed textures and decorative glazes to provide a perfectly flat face and "sanitary" gloss white or ivory glaze that would be impervious against germs and easy to clean. Moreover, they offered a wide range of radiused trim shapes to eliminate 90-degree corners that could trap dirt and allow for continuous tile coverage of any surface. Furthermore, each tile's edges were perfectly square, allowing narrow, often "pencil line" thickness, allowing joints less susceptible to soiling.
When work began on New York's first subway in 1900, AET Co's sanitary tile features made it a seemingly perfect choice to line the stations' platforms. The gloss white glaze also ofered a way to brighten up the dimly lit stations. But it was not meant to be. Designers instead opted for tiles made of opaque white glass, restored examples of which can be seen at today's Bleecker Street and 53rd Street stations. However, that is more lore than fact. Subway tile is a type of tile used in public bathing facilities in 1895, and the Tenement Act of 1901 required flush toilets in all new buildings. New theories about germs and the origins of disease sparked a revolution in household hygiene and city sanitation. In 1849, New York City began constructing its first modern sewer system. The revolution in household hygiene and city sanitation led to the development of sanitary tile. This tile stripped away artistic embossed textures and decorative glazes to provide a perfectly flat face and "sanitary" gloss white or ivory glaze that would be impervious against germs and easy to clean.
Capitalizing on the new craze for cleanliness, an art tile manufacturer, the American Encaustic Tiling Company (AET Co.), began to market a new "sanitary" tile with advertisements suggesting uses in hospitals, kitchens, public baths, and bathrooms. This tile stripped away artistic embossed textures and decorative glazes to provide a perfectly flat face and "sanitary" gloss white or ivory glaze that would be impervious against germs and easy to clean.
This tile stripped away artistic embossed textures and decorative glazes to provide a perfectly flat face and "sanitary" gloss white or ivory glaze that would be impervious against germs and easy to clean. Capitalizing on the new craze for cleanliness, an art tile manufacturer, the American Encaustic Tiling Company (AET Co.), began to market a new "sanitary" tile with advertisements suggesting uses in hospitals, kitchens, public baths, and bathrooms. This tile stripped away artistic embossed textures and decorative glazes to provide a perfectly flat face and "sanitary" gloss white or ivory glaze that would be impervious against germs and easy to clean.
This tile stripped away artistic embossed textures and decorative glazes to provide a perfectly flat face and "sanitary" gloss white or ivory glaze that would be impervious against germs and easy to clean.
STRUCTURAL RESTORATION AND RENOVATION OF TERRACOTTA MATERIALS
Presented By Jonathan Hernandez, PE and Mark Beltramello, PE
LIKE MANY CITIES IN THE NORTHEAST, New York City has hundreds of buildings that were built for a purpose that is now outdated. In this presentation we will review some of our recent renovation case studies - each has original floors made of terracotta which create strong, lightweight, fire-resistant floors. Many historic buildings dating to the 1890s were constructed of terracotta arches which create strong, lightweight, fire-resistant floors. Hollow terracotta blocks are laid on cast iron columns and terracotta slabs supported on steel framing. These buildings were typically designed for industrial use with high live load capacities. Hollow terracotta blocks are laid on falsework either parallel, perpendicular, or a combination thereof to the floor beams, and are set using a key block placed at the center of the span. Terracotta arch floors can accommodate large live loads if properly cared for, but often, prior alterations have not been kind to this material - the arch blocks are damaged by running piping, or ductwork through the floors without properly supporting the tiles or removing large swaths and infilling with metal deck and concrete. As the need for industrial buildings located in the heart of the city declined, these buildings were converted into ce buildings. With the advent of centralized heating and air conditioning, it became necessary to upgrade the MEP infrastructure of the buildings to address modern requirements. The need for vertical shafts that reached the full height of the building required floor and wall penetrations through the existing terracotta floors. Many of these renovations damaged the appearance of the terracotta and compromised its structural integrity.
New openings for elevator shafts and interconnecting stairs also required large penetrations through the existing terracotta floors. Another question encountered in the modernization and renovation of these terracotta buildings was the capacity of the terracotta slabs to support the required ceilings, lights, ductwork, conduits, and other MEP equipment systems. We will discuss the methods and techniques used in the restoration of terracotta tiles both structurally and aesthetically. This includes the techniques we used in the addition of vertical shafts for elevators and raceways as well as communicating stairs. The testing methodology that was adopted to determine the in situ capacity of the terracotta will be presented.
“These buildings were typically designed for industrial use with high live load capacities.”
Jonathan C. Hernandez is a Professional Engineer and Partner at Gilsanz Murray Steiflack. He has designed new construction work as well as renovations, rehabilitations and feasibility studies, and has extensive experience working with building owners, developers, and architects to provide innovative and cost effective structural solutions for even the most difficult building challenges. Jonathan’s projects include the infrastructure upgrade of JP Morgan Chase Headquarters at 270 Park Avenue, the rehabilitation of the historic Sculpture Center in NY, renovation of a 2-story townhouse for the Artists Foundation, and infrastructure upgrades at Lenox Hill Hospital. Jonathan is Past-President of the Structural Engineers Association of New York (SEAoNY) and a past member of the Board of Directors of the National Council of Structural Engineers Associations (NCSEA). He is certified by the Structural Engineering Certification Board (SECB), and a member of the American Concrete Institute (ACI), CoreNet Global, The Architectural League of New York, the American Society of Civil Engineers (ASCE) and licensed in multiple states.
Mark Beltramello is an Associate with Gilsanz Murray Steiflack. He is a registered Professional Civil Engineer in California and is certified as a Special Inspector. He has worked on a variety of projects at GMS including retail, banks, townhouses, and interior fit-outs. His most recent projects include the redevelopment of the Eaton Hotel in Washington, D.C. and multiple projects in New York City including, the addition of five-stories onto an existing six-story factory building at 315 West 29th Street, the renovation of approximately 240,000 sf for a global financial firm’s offices at 225 Liberty Street, and the new Gensler offices in the Theater District. Mark is a member of ASCE, SEAoNY, ASAC, and the ACE Monitoring Program. Mark received his undergraduate in Civil Engineering from Bucknell University and his Masters in Structural Engineering from Lehigh University.
In the 1720’s, when the Old South Meeting House was being constructed in Boston, the best available brickmaking technology of the time produced hard fired bricks that were strong and durable, but very irregular in size and shape. These bricks were not square and did not have parallel tops and bottoms. In order to construct the type of brick arches with tight fitting brick voussoirs and very thin joints that were fashionable in England at the time, non-structural arches were constructed using soft fired bricks that were cut and shaped after the firing process was complete. These single-wythe decorative arches were placed in front of either wood lintels or structural arches with very wide joints made from the hard-fired wall bricks. The soft bricks that were used to create the decorative arches were called “gauged bricks” because they were cut to a precise shape. They were also referred to as “rubbers” because the shaping process was done with a coarse rubbing stone. To make the bricks workable, and to create a smooth presentation surface, very little ground fired clay (sgraffito) was added to the clay body used to make the gauged bricks.
Old South Meeting House is one of the few buildings located in England’s former North American colonies that retains a high percentage of its original “gauged” bricks. Low fired bricks are softer and more permeable than hard fired bricks and therefore deteriorate at a faster rate. Most of the gauged brick arches on surviving buildings of that period have been replaced with high fired bricks set in wide joints. The hard bricks and wide joints change the distinctive appearance of the original masonry. Where the original lightly set cut brick arches contrasted with the adjacent hard fired bricks walls, the replacement arches blended with the adjacent walls. Preserving the distinctive appearance of these decorative arches on the exterior of early 18th century brick buildings in the United States involves conserving the existing sound bricks and replacing the highly deteriorated bricks with ones that match the original. As the Georgian style of architecture which was initially prevalent in the American colonies, gave way to the Federal style, adopted by the new republic, the need for soft-fired bricks that could be shaped by hand ended. Currently, there are no brick yards in the United States that retains a high percentage of its original “gauged” bricks. Low fired bricks are softer and more permeable than hard fired bricks and therefore deteriorate at a faster rate. Most of the gauged brick arches on surviving buildings of that period have been replaced with high fired bricks set in wide joints. The hard bricks and wide joints change the distinctive appearance of the original masonry. Where the original lightly set cut brick arches contrasted with the adjacent hard fired bricks walls, the replacement arches blended with the adjacent walls.
Preserving the distinctive appearance of these decorative arches on the exterior of early 18th century brick buildings in the United States involves conserving the existing sound bricks and replacing the highly deteriorated bricks with ones that match the original. As the Georgian style of architecture which was initially prevalent in the American colonies, gave way to the Federal style, adopted by the new republic, the need for soft-fired bricks that could be shaped by hand ended. Currently, there are no brick yards in the United States (and only one in the United Kingdom) that manufacture soft fired bricks that can be shaped with rubbing stones.
This presentation will address the importance of preserving not only the distinct appearance of soft fired brick arches, but also the technological know-how and craftsmanship that went into producing them in the first decades of the 18th century. Revising a masonry craft tradition that had been abandoned roughly 275 years ago turned out not to be as difficult as it first seemed it would be. The key to the success of the project lay in giving skilled masons the time to experiment with unfamiliar materials and methods.
Old South Meeting House Completed Gauged Brick Arch with conserved original bricks and replacement bricks. Photo Credit: Ivan Myjer
Left: Old South Meeting House Original Gauged Brick Arch before Treatment. Right: Old South Meeting House Decorative single-wythe decorative arch made from conserved original bricks and replacement bricks. Photo Credit: Ivan Myjer
**John Oschendorf** is the Class of 1972 Professor of Engineering and Architecture at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He has been a MacArthur Fellow, director of the American Academy of Rome and founding director of the MIT Morgridge Academy for Design. He is the author of Guastavino Vaulting: The Art of Structural Tile (2010) and he served as lead curator of the exhibition Palaces for the People: Guastavino and America’s Great Public Spaces. Oschendorf trained in structural engineering at Cornell, Princeton, and the University of Cambridge.
John’s work merges the history of construction, preservation of historic structures and architectural design. Through historical studies, including his investigations into Guastavino tile structures, John works alongside his students and colleagues to prove the stability of complex architectural forms by developing structural analysis models to understand and preserve these intelligent designs of the past without detrimental alterations. His work draws upon lessons learned from historical forms to develop design tools derived out of graphic states that can be used to generate new architectural forms.
Presented by Ivan Myjer, is the owner and lead conservator of building and Monument Conservation, a firm that offers hands-on conservation and consulting services for the restoration and conservation of traditional masonry buildings, architectural sculpture and monuments, and grave markers. Prior to founding the firm, Ivan was the director of the SPNEA Conservation Center (currently Historic New England) and the Director of Restoration at the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York City. Ivan’s building assessment projects include studies of historic buildings such as The White House and the Alamo, while hands on conservation projects have ranged from the treatment of dinosaur footprints in the Connecticut River Valley to the stabilization of Plymouth Rock. Current projects include the conservation of sculptural reliefs completed by Fredric Bartholdi in 1878 located at the top of the tower of H. H. Richardson’s First Baptist Church in Boston. Ivan studied philosophy and religion at New College and after graduation trained in several conservation artists and stone workshops.
**Old South Meeting House Completed Gauged Brick Arch with conserved original bricks and replacement bricks.** Photo Credit: Ivan Myjer
**Left: Old South Meeting House Original Gauged Brick Arch before Treatment. Right: Old South Meeting House Decorative single-wythe decorative arch made from conserved original bricks and replacement bricks.** Photo Credit: Ivan Myjer
SPLATTER UP! REPAIRING AND REPLICATING GUASTAVINO TILE AT THE ICONIC PLYMOUTH ROCK PORTICO
Presented By Jack Glassman, AIA, LEED AP
IN 1921, THE PLYMOUTH, MASSACHUSETTS WATERFRONT was redeveloped as a promenade, and a neoclassical portico was erected over the famous Plymouth Rock to celebrate the Tercentenary of the Pilgrims’ arrival in 1620. The McKim, Mead and White design features a Guastavino barrel vault with domical ends, supported by granite columns surmounted by a neoclassical entablature. The Portico’s design and setting at the edge of Cape Cod Bay allows the tides to wash in and out and the structure is subjected to salt-air, coastal storms and cycles of wet-dry and freeze-thaw typical of the New England climate.
In 1999, maintenance staff at the (now) Massachusetts Department of Conservation and Recreation (DCR) discovered one of the Guastavino face tiles sitting on the plaza below. Discoloration, delamination and spalling of tiles continued over several subsequent seasons. In April 2005, the agency retained a team of experts led by Bargmann Hendrie + Archetype (BH+A) to evaluate the condition of the vaulting and recommend a course of action.
Reproductions of the original construction drawings depicted an embedded steel frame at the comice level; including I-beams turned sideways to laterally restrain the perimeter of the vaulting and stiffen the structure. The drawings included a “Guastavino Vault” label but did not delineate the critical connection between the steel frame and the masonry electrolyte.
In 2005, Robert Silman Associates facilitated pre-construction structural probes, and CorrPro Companies tested the electrical continuity. Three probes exposed steel framing in excellent condition, and the trial CP installation proved that an ICCP system could effectively protect the frame from future corrosion. Hands-on inspection of each tile within the portico during the restoration revealed more deterioration than anticipated; some “intact” tiles were in fact failing cohesively and several areas of structural tile were disintegrating. A substantial void beneath the steel beams was filled with Type “O” dry pack grout, scored to facilitate bonding of replacement tiles. A disconcerting vertical gap between the edges of the structural tile and the steel beam flanges was filled with fluid-injection grout to maintain continuous contact between the steel frame and the masonry electrolyte.
Nearly 50% of the herringbone face Guastavino tiles were removed. The exposures revealed a series of parallel cracks and isolated sections of “rotten” structural tile/grout laminations, whereby the mortar between tile layers was competent, but the tile was friable. A detailed structural tile removal and replacement sequence was designed to knit new and old at damaged areas and at the probes; new layers of tile were “tacked back” to avoid stacking tile, following a specific lapping sequence and making up for the original mortar thickness between tiles. Replacement face tiles and hand-scored red clay structural tiles were custom manufactured and installed as part of the restoration process.
The drawings included a “Guastavino Vault” label but did not delineate the critical connection between tile vault and the steel -- which was clearly playing a role in the damage and deterioration. As a Historical Architect for the National Park Service Interior Region 2, JACK GLASSMAN’S responsibilities include preparation of design and construction drawings, technical specifications and cost estimates. He also provides technical advice to managers of Gettysburg, Eisenhower, Colonial, Richmond, and other Parks and has served as a Contracting Officer’s Technical Representative. Jack’s current and recent repair and preservation projects include: Minute Man NHP leasing-program houses; the William Floyd Estate on Long Island, NY; the Custom House at Salem Maritime NHS; and Appomattox Manor outbuildings in Hopewell, Virginia.
Previously employed as the Director of Historic Preservation at Bargmann Hendrie + Archetype, Inc. (Boston, MA), Jack managed dozens of public-sector condition assessments, studies and design and engineering projects, guiding many of them from initial concepts through bidding and construction administration.
For ten years, Jack served as Chair of the Boston Society of Architects (BSA) Historic Resources Committee (HRC). Under his leadership, the HRC tracked current events involving historic resources, supported best practices in preservation, and hosted dozens of featured guest speakers.
USE OF RAINSCREEN CLADDING BUILDING SYSTEMS TO PROMOTE THE REBUILD OF HISTORIC TERRA COTTA ASSEMBLIES
Presented By Joshua Jaskowiak, PE, and Matthew Haberling, PE.
ARCHITECTURAL TERRA COTTA ASSEMBLIES have served as defining aspects of a variety of nineteenth and twentieth-century architectural styles and represent the creativity and variety displayed by historic fired clay materials. With contemporary rainscreen systems, terra cotta has seen a resurgence in today’s architectural community. However, when dealing with historic buildings, preservation and building heritage professionals are being increasingly tasked to assess heritage terra cotta assemblies as part of facade ordinance programs, condition assessments, and building maintenance plans for proactive building owners. In turn, these invaluable exercises can identify a variety of failure modes which require a range of repair methods from minor in-situ repairs to individual unit replacement to full multi-unit assembly replacement. This latter scenario, full unit replacement, can present significant logistical and financial impacts due to long fabrication lead times and the resulting costs associated with extended construction schedules. There are also significant costs involved with installing large and heavy terra cotta units in a traditional manner, which requires additional labor and equipment just to get the units into place. These factors can in turn lead building owners to consider alternative less historically appropriate materials that don’t have the same in-service track records.
These considerations led a team of WJE professionals in partnership with Central Building & Preservation L.P., a Chicago-based masonry preservation contractor, to develop a prototype terra cotta rainscreen cladding system as part of Boston Valley Terra Cotta’s annual Architectural Ceramics Detailing Series cornice assembly mock-up for pressed and extruded assemblies as a basis-of-design for a terra cotta cladding assembly. The WJE prototype is based on the concept of using extruded rainscreen units. These units are typically able to be fabricated significantly quicker than hand-pressed units and are ideal for repetitive assemblies (e.g. cornices, water tables, and faux-cladding units). The prototype features extruded, glazed units typically between 2-to-6 inches in depth supported on a modular rainscreen support frame.
The design was intended to represent two potential scenarios. First, an existing hand-pressed historic assembly with significant deterioration requiring replacement of entire elements but funds or budget is limited to allow for replication of the historic hand-pressed units. Second, an instance where a historic assembly was previously removed and project stakeholders wish to reconstruct the historic assembly and restore the historic appearance of the building. This concept can also be used as part of the facade systems within new construction. The application can provide greater flexibility to architects seeking to respond to the character and fabric of the surrounding built environment. The use of this prototype is not intended to replace careful in-kind replacement of existing units or an in-kind reconstruction of an existing assembly. During the charette, the design team acknowledged that the prototype system can be a tool in the overall balanced considerations of a design professional but is not applicable for all project scenarios.
During this presentation, the authors will discuss the design charette process, the collaboration with an experienced terra cotta masonry contractor, the construction of a full-scale mock-up, and participation in the 2022 ACAW. The authors will also discuss findings from ongoing in-house research evaluating the environmental performance of the prototypical rainscreen units. The presentation will conclude with the team’s lessons learned and a discussion of how this concept can be adapted to the toolbox of design professionals.
Since joining WJE, Janney, Etkin Associates, Inc. as a full-time associate in 2016, JOSH JASKOWIAK has gained experience in performing facade investigations, condition assessments of new and existing buildings, and structural failure investigations. His is now a Senior Associate and has worked on a variety of projects, including historic and existing facade rehabilitation, brick and stone mass-masonry, transitional, and veneer wall systems, wood-framed structures, and historic structural system analysis and retrofit. He has also been actively engaged in projects related to construction observation of new building envelope systems. Mr. Jaskowiak has previously been involved with the APT Preservation Engineering Technical Committee (PETC) Student Competition Planning Committee as a reviewer of written student submissions and as a volunteer.
MATTHEW HABERLING has extensive experience with forensic investigation of existing building envelope systems for historic and contemporary buildings. Previous projects include restoration services for stone, masonry, stucco, and curtain wall facades, as well a variety of fine-stone restoration and roofing. Mr. Haberling also has experience working on historic site projects involving restoration and waterproofing of traditional landscapes and historic stairways. He has worked on a range of projects from large institutional complexes to single-family residences; and has provided consulting services on the application of preservation principals to architects for facade and roof restoration. Mr. Haberling has been involved with projects which received awards from organizations such as the American Institute of Architects, National Trust for Historic Preservation, Preservation League of New York State, and New York Landmarks Conservancy. He has also lectured throughout the United States and Canada on the subjects of historic roofing, window restoration, and historic plaza and facade restoration.
Collar Joint Stabilization in Fired Clay Masonry Assemblies
Presented By John Wathne, PE and Norman Weiss, FAIC, FAPT, FSA
Fired Clay Masonry Units, consisting most commonly of brick, terra cotta, and structural clay tile, present a unique set of opportunities and challenges when it comes to their use in a masonry assembly and to the rehabilitation of that assembly. These units are most often smaller in size than other types of masonry units and therefore there tends to be a greater ratio of mortar-to-unit in clay masonry assemblies than assemblies that contain stone. Fired clay units are also often more absorbent and may be susceptible to moisture-related dimensional changes, depending upon their age. In this presentation we will primarily focus on mass masonry brick assemblies, but similar challenges exist for other fired masonry assemblies.
Bricks, when used in mass masonry, are typically laid in regular three-dimensional patterns, called “bond”. Bond affects not only the appearance, but the performance of the assembly, especially where multiple layers (wythes) of brick are needed to attain the dimensions of the assembly. In most bond patterns, the long dimensions of the bricks run parallel to the primary plane of the assembly with the wide dimension of the brick running perpendicular. The short dimension most typically runs vertically, with the majority of all units laid parallel to each other.
Structurally, the most critical joints are the bed joints, which support the primary loads within the assembly and are therefore always compressed. In most bond patterns, the bed joints separate, usually before there is any significant deterioration of the masonry assembly initiates. The brick wythes start to separate, usually before there is any significant deterioration of the bed joints, which are compressed under load, or of the head joints, which are restrained due to the interweaving of the bricks in the longitudinal horizontal direction.
If one can access the collar joint and stabilize it before significant separation occurs, then one can usually save the entire assembly. In most bond patterns, the long dimensions of the bricks run parallel to the primary plane of the assembly with the wide dimension of the brick running perpendicular.
“...”
AN ONGOING CHALLENGE IN TERRA COTTA RESTORATION is finding durable coatings for in-situ glaze spall repairs that can be field applied in a variety of environmental conditions. Unlike the original factory-fired glaze, field-applied coatings are subjected to a variety of substrate conditions, such as moisture, that can significantly affect the curing and long-term performance of the repair. We are often faced with repairing terra cotta below leaking water tables and similar features that cannot sufficiently dry over the course of a typical construction schedule due to the exceptionally slow drying rate of terra cotta. This complicates the repair options, as most coatings require a dry substrate at the time of application. The purpose of our testing was to determine which field-applied products, if any, could deliver satisfactory results when installed over a moisture-laden substrate, as is often required in practice. To investigate possible solutions, we tested a variety of coating technologies both from traditional preservation practices and alternative approaches implemented in other industries, such as flooring. Testing included sample pre-conditioning and storage conditions to simulate an initially wet wall allowed to dry and a continuously wet wall for a three-month test duration. We found that all systems cured without visible deficiencies when the wet terra cotta was allowed to dry after coating application. Our testing found only one system to be successful over a continuously wet substrate: a polyurethane paint over an epoxy-based primer. While further research is needed to determine the long-term performance attributes of epoxy-based primer systems for terra cotta repairs, this testing shows promise for use on limited applications when comprehensive drying of the substrate is not feasible and when used appropriately with other related repairs to optimize moisture protection.
**Performance Testing of Materials to Repair Terra Cotta Glaze Spalls**
**Presented By Lauren DiCenzo, PE and Carolyn Searls, PE**
**Lauren DiCenzo** is a Senior Consulting Engineer at Simpson Gumpertz & Heger Inc. (SGH) where she designs, investigates, and rehabilitates building enclosures to ensure building performance and longevity, with experience in both new construction and historic preservation projects. She values partnership and collaboration, and consults with architects, contractors, and building owners to deliver technically sound projects that maintain the architectural intent of the building enclosure. Her recent notable projects have involved restoring historic structures in the San Francisco Bay Area, including the Matson Building and the Bresnahan Building.
**Carolyn Searls** is a Senior Principal at Simpson Gumpertz & Heger Inc. (SGH) and has experience in investigation, design, and construction contract administration of building enclosure repairs on historic and contemporary structures throughout the United States. In her career, she has investigated more than 1,000 buildings and structures. Active through speaking engagements, project commissions, and published papers, Carolyn has been recognized as an expert in the field of preservation of masonry and concrete on historic buildings, in addition to her work in cladding and waterproofing systems on contemporary buildings.
**Traditional Chinese Roofing Tiles in Salem, Massachusetts**
**Presented By William Brandow and Clay Palazzo, AIA, LEED AP**
TWENTY YEARS AGO, Yin Yu Tang, an eighteenth-century Chinese merchant's house, was re-erected in Salem, Massachusetts, contributing to the Peabody Essex Museum’s extensive collections related to the China trade, and serving as a counterpoint to the eighteenth-century homes of shipping merchants in the museum’s collection. In the late 1890s, the house was painstakingly dismantled from the site where it was built in the Huizhou region of China. Once in America, the documentation, conservation, and re-rerection of orts were led by John G. Waite Associates, Architects in close association with the Brookfield Arts Foundation and the Peabody Essex Museum. The firm was tasked with reassembling the house as closely as possible to the condition of the home when last inhabited.
The salvaged historic building materials were reused in the re-erection of the building, including a significant quantity of architectural ceramics. The bricks used in the wall construction, the molded and carved decorative bricks that form the majority of the building’s external architectural embellishment, and the clay roof tiles are all fired materials. None of these materials are glazed; the gray fired-clay finish is left exposed in many locations. However, the common-brick walls are covered in a lime-based render to protect the porous bricks. It is in the building’s clay tile roof and parapet walls where fired ceramics are most prevalent. The tiles form the fields of the roofs, the ridges and valleys, and the copings on the decorative horsehead walls. It is in these locations that the building’s original materials are most exposed and most tested by the seaside climate of New England. In an effort to maintain authenticity, the original tiles were reused in all but their most susceptible, and least accessible locations. While the majority of the roof’s visible surface is made up of original tile, an innovative compound base tile was designed to form the drainage troughs between the more visible cover tiles. These larger compound tiles, which each represent four traditional tiles, were made to accommodate the weight of access planking for roof maintenance. This allows for regular replacement of the more delicate cover tiles.
While the new roofing system is more resilient than the original roofing, it is nearly identical in appearance and left an abundant attic stock of original roof tiles for replacement.
When the house was re-erected, materials made in the traditional way could still be sourced from China. For various reasons, that is no longer the case. With the need for additional roof tiles and decorative bricks for the horsehead parapet walls, a new source of materials, which both match the original appearance and meet the requirements of the building's northern marine climate, was required.
J. G. Waite Associates, Architects, has been working closely with Northern Roof Tiles in Canada and Dreadnought Tiles in the United Kingdom since early 2022 to produce tiles that match the original Chinese tiles, while meeting applicable testing standards for strength, absorption, and freeze/thaw cycling. This effort demonstrates the use of traditional materials in new ways to meet the conditions of a more demanding climate.
2022 YEAR-END REVIEW
HUDSON, NY
FEBRUARY 25, 2022
9AM-6PM
APTNE Annual Meeting and Symposium
NEW YORK CITY, NY
MAY 21, 2022
1PM-2PM
Gustavino Children’s Book & Tour
CONEY ISLAND, NY
AUGUST 19, 2022
7PM-10PM
Brooklyn Cyclones Game
VIRTUAL
SEPTEMBER 21, 2022
5PM-6PM
Mitigating Fire Risk: Codes, Obstacles, and Opportunities
NEW YORK CITY, NY
OCTOBER 21, 2022
3:30PM-6PM
Palace Theatre Restoration Hard Hat Tour
NEW YORK CITY, NY
DECEMBER 5, 2022
6:30PM-9:30PM
Winter Holiday Party in NYC
GREENWICH, CT
OCTOBER 1, 2022
1PM-3PM
Building Stone Walking Tour
SARATOGA SPRINGS, NY
OCTOBER 8, 2022
9AM-3PM
Saratoga Springs Race Track Tour
NEW YORK CITY, NY
DECEMBER 9, 2022
3PM-5PM
Student Outreach Scavenger Hunt
NEWTON, MA
APRIL 28, 2022
4PM-6PM
Grace Episcopal Church Hard Hat Tour
MAY 12, 2022
4PM-6PM
Grace Episcopal Church Hard Hat Tour: Student Edition
NEWTON, MA
APRIL 28, 2022
4PM-6PM
Grace Episcopal Church Hard Hat Tour: Student Edition
VIRTUAL
JUNE 8, 2022
5PM-6PM
Battle of the Cements: Portland Cement Repairs and Original Natural Cement Mortars
HASTINGS-ON-HUDSON, NY
SEPTEMBER 8, 2022
11AM-8PM
APTNE Annual Golf Outing at St. Andrews Gold Club
GREENWICH, CT
OCTOBER 1, 2022
1PM-3PM
Building Stone Walking Tour
SARATOGA SPRINGS, NY
OCTOBER 8, 2022
9AM-3PM
Saratoga Springs Race Track Tour
NEW YORK CITY, NY
DECEMBER 9, 2022
3PM-5PM
Student Outreach Scavenger Hunt
HUDSON, NY
FEBRUARY 25, 2022
9AM-6PM
APTNE Annual Meeting and Symposium
NEW YORK CITY, NY
MAY 21, 2022
1PM-2PM
Gustavino Children’s Book & Tour
CONEY ISLAND, NY
AUGUST 19, 2022
7PM-10PM
Brooklyn Cyclones Game
VIRTUAL
SEPTEMBER 21, 2022
5PM-6PM
Mitigating Fire Risk: Codes, Obstacles, and Opportunities
NEW YORK CITY, NY
OCTOBER 21, 2022
3:30PM-6PM
Palace Theatre Restoration Hard Hat Tour
NEW YORK CITY, NY
DECEMBER 5, 2022
6:30PM-9:30PM
Winter Holiday Party in NYC
GREENWICH, CT
OCTOBER 1, 2022
1PM-3PM
Building Stone Walking Tour
SARATOGA SPRINGS, NY
OCTOBER 8, 2022
9AM-3PM
Saratoga Springs Race Track Tour
NEW YORK CITY, NY
DECEMBER 9, 2022
3PM-5PM
Student Outreach Scavenger Hunt |
Cet article examine les représentations visuelles de la migration en s'inspirant sur un cas suédois, afin de réfléchir à des questions plus larges concernant la position du témoin, y compris celle du photographe et du spectateur distant, et à la manière dont les photos peuvent contribuer à la compréhension de l'expérience de la migration forcée. À travers une analyse interprétative de l'imagerie reconnue par le concours suédois de l'Image de l'Année, j'identifie des visualisations essentiellement empathiques selon les cinq positions de visibilité suggérées par Chouliaraki et Stolic. En utilisant un ensemble différent d'images, j'ai exploré en profondeur une famille sur une période de quatre ans comme un récit d'expériences vécues de migration forcée. En termes de méthodologie, cet essai débute dans le domaine du photojournalisme, mais suggère l'inclusion de formes et de genres visuels divers dans les matériaux empiriques.
To cite this article:
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.17742/IMAGE.TP.13.2.8
This essay explores visual representations of migration by drawing on a Swedish case to reflect on broader questions regarding the position of the witness, including the photographer and the distant spectator, and on how photographs may contribute to an understanding of the experience of forced migration. Through an interpretative analysis of imagery recognized by the Swedish Picture of the Year contest, I identified mostly empathetic visualizations, according to the five positions of visibility suggested by Chouliaraki and Stolic. Engaging a different set of imagery, I delved into an extended exploration of one family over a span of four years as a narrative of lived experiences of forced migration. Methodologically, this essay begins within the area of photojournalism, but suggests the inclusion of varied visual forms and genres in the empirical materials.
Cet essai examine les représentations visuelles de la migration en s’inspirant sur un cas suédois, afin de réfléchir à des questions plus larges concernant la position du témoin, y compris celle du photographe et du spectateur distant, et à la manière dont les photos peuvent contribuer à la compréhension de l’expérience de la migration forcée. À travers une analyse interprétative de l’imagerie reconnue par le concours suédois de l’Image de l’Année, j’identifie des visualisations essentiellement empathiques selon les cinq positions de visibilité suggérées par Chouliaraki et Stolic. En utilisant un ensemble différent d’images, j’ai exploré en profondeur une famille sur une période de quatre ans comme un récit d’expériences vécues de migration forcée. En termes de méthodologie, cet essai débute dans le domaine du photojournalisme, mais suggère l’inclusion de formes et de genres visuels divers dans les matériaux empiriques.
INTRODUCTION
"The pictures I didn’t take on the Sea of Death," reads the headline of an article written by a Swedish photojournalist covering a rescue operation in the Mediterranean Sea (Hoelstad). The text is accompanied by the sole image the photographer made that day, of a man and a young boy clinging to a piece of wood to stay afloat as the rescue boat approaches. In the article, the photojournalist shares her observations of men, women, and children in the water, and describes the crew attempting to bring the refugees to safety. The image-maker shares additional information: of a young girl who drowned and who was a close relative of the father and the boy she photographed, and of helping to administer CPR to another child who survived. Yet their main focus is the description of what an image might have shown had she taken it.
Over one million refugees crossed the Mediterranean hoping to reach the European Union during 2015, according to the UNHCR. The rescue operation described above took place in the fall of 2015, shortly after the death of Alan Kurdi, the young Syrian boy who perished while trying to cross the Mediterranean with his family. As is widely known, images of the Syrian boy’s lifeless body went viral, causing a debate about the ethical boundaries of photojournalism (e.g. Fehrenbach and Rodogno; Mortensen et al.). The images also contributed to policy debates about migration. The Kurdi imagery in particular became a symbol in the solidary movement “Refugees welcome” formed in various cities to support refugees as they arrived (Proitz). Thus, beyond the apparent news value of photographs from global conflicts and humanitarian crises, the images are instruments shaping public opinion, in this case about migration and about people forced to flee.
The photojournalist’s account inspired this essay by raising a series of questions: about how photographs contribute to our understanding of the experience of forced migration; about who has the right to photograph; and about the responsibilities of witnesses, including photographers and spectators at a geographical distance. These questions frame the focus of my inquiry in this paper, and I explore them...
by engaging with literature on visual media frames, witnessing and spectatorship, and by drawing on visual examples, specifically from Swedish photojournalism. Sweden received over 160,000 asylum applications during 2015, twice as many as the previous year, the increase due in part to the conflict in Syria. Until 2016, the country’s migration policy had been welcoming, in particular in 2014 when Sweden was the only country in the world to guarantee asylum to Syrian applicants. However, in 2016, a law was introduced to reduce the number of applications, purportedly for a more sustainable policy. My focus on Sweden as a case study, and as a node for global migration, brings larger issues about witnessing and agency as they relate to photography into view.
As part of this process, methodological questions on photojournalism and migration arise. Journalism research focusing on news photographs has identified recurring, frequently reductive frames of migration. A common empirical focus in visual framing research is on images in news stories selected as empirical materials (see Fahmy et al.). While these studies contribute knowledge about how imagery supports certain recurring media frames and tropes, there appears to be less of a focus in the literature on visual reportage and other visual forms. Furthermore, as Lilie Chouliaraki and Tijana Stolic discuss in their analysis of news photographs of refugees, a narrow methodological focus on binary positions—with the refugee visualized as either victim or threat—may risk overlooking ambiguities and alternative positions of visibility.
The interpretative analyses presented in the following pages focus on two interrelated sets of images, meant to serve as examples of photojournalistic practice, strategies, and visualizations. The first set of images were made between 2015 and 2017 and recognized by the Swedish Picture of the Year contest. I chose to analyze contest entries since images recognized by a jury of peers are indicative of professional discourses, norms, and ideals (e.g. Andén-Papadopoulos; Kedra and Sommier). I conducted a qualitative interpretative analysis in order to explore how the imagery visualized refugee migration, drawing on Chouliaraki and Stolic’s typology of visibility.
The second set of images are photographs and videos published in extended coverage about a family fleeing the war in Syria, specifically the family the photojournalist encountered during the rescue operation described above. News photographs frequently focus on moments of crisis. Here, I instead consider a series of articles about one family published between 2015 and 2019. The aim is to address an aspect of visualization I believe is not frequently included in journalism research about migration, that is, a person’s experience beyond the flight and arrival in the host country. Through a narrative analysis of imagery interacting with the texts, I explore how the extended coverage contributes to our understanding of the family’s experience.
The following section contains a targeted review of literature on visualizations of migration in the news media and writings in the field of visual studies, as well as writings on witnessing and agency. The subsequent section explains the empirical examples and methods of analysis. Next follows a presentation of the analyses, while in the concluding section I reflect on the ethics of photographing, the position of the photographer and the spectator as witnesses, and how images may contribute to spectators’ engagement and understanding of the experience of flight.
WITNESSING AND VISUALLY FRAMING MIGRATION
The photograph is the foremost tool for journalistic witnessing, particularly crucial in breaking news and crisis coverage (Zelizer). According to Stuart Allan, “The importance of bearing witness to what is transpiring in harrowing circumstances is a lynchpin in war and conflict reporting” (133).
A photojournalist is a witness on site who must be close to events to secure images (Bock). Their work is shaped by various factors—including the assignment—such as whether they work for a news organization or an NGO (Dencik and Allan). Furthermore, briefs or preferences expressed by editors may guide the shoot, such as a request for a certain type of image or visualization, which may preclude alternative vantage points based on what takes place on site (Bengtsson Lundin). Furthermore, freelance photographers in particular may
adapt their approach to themes, topics or aesthetic approaches that might yield publication opportunities (Láb and Štefaníková). Thus, the routines of media organizations and visual discourses, including those promoted by photo contests, contribute to shaping how photojournalists approach the assignment and the kind of pictures they make.
Another factor is previous coverage and established conventions for visualizing the topic, which the work of the photojournalist corresponds to and tends to reproduce. Research on media frames and representations of migration specifically has identified two recurring themes or tropes in news photographs of migration: the refugee as either victim or threat (see Bleiker et al.; Chouliaraki and Stolic). The figure of the refugee as victim may evoke empathy through scenes of massification, such as in refugee camps (Wright). However, while conveying a sense of urgency, such portrayals may risk reducing refugees to anonymous, passive, and distant bodies without agency (Hyndman, qtd. in Chouliaraki and Stolic, 1164). The trope of the migrant mother and child in need, for instance, is useful in journalistic narratives of polarization and conflict. Yet, while images of children may evoke compassion, the news media have been criticized for further exposing people in a vulnerable position. Research on migration coverage during 2015 specifically addresses some of these questions in analyses of the news media’s publications of images of Alan Kurdi (see Fehrenbach and Rodogno; Mortensen, Allan, and Peters; Mortensen and Trenz; Proitz).
The figure of the refugee as threat, meanwhile, may evoke fear and justify securitization discourses and policies (Chouliaraki and Stolic). This visual figure feeds into a journalistic narrative building on simplification, and is part of a discourse where migration is considered a threat—for instance to sovereignty or national or political ideology (Nair; Wolthers). While the male refugee is less frequently portrayed as a victim, the figure of the refugee as threat has been found to be predominantly male and frequently young (Kedra and Sommer; Musaró). Furthermore, the male refugee has been associated with terrorism in media coverage (Chouliaraki and Stolic). In addition, borders, which are frequently visualized in the coverage, are al-
so a prominent part of discourses of securitization (Chouliaraki and Georgiou; Kedra and Sommier; Nair).
Visual strategies, alternative frames, and the news photograph as an instrument for empathy have also been identified in studies focusing on media coverage of migration in the context of 2015. Chouliaraki and Stolic, in an analysis of photographs published in newspapers across Europe, found various positions of visibility, each encouraging different “public dispositions” to act (1172). While these authors found few examples of the welcoming position “hospitality,” they attribute this to the limitations of civil society. Furthermore, an analysis of entries to the global photojournalism contest World Press Photo identified an emergent rhetorical figure, that of the nurturing father (Kedra and Sommier). These authors identified a number of other rhetorical strategies and explored narrative in visual projects as an interaction between image-maker and migrants. An analysis of a photo reportage published on a mainstream news site, in another study, identified a visual language and an unusual story focus, yielding low news value yet a space to connect to the experience of migrants marooned in a no-man’s land (Nair).
The photojournalist’s work is also shaped by access, and by actors who control the setting and may set events in motion for the benefit of the camera (Bock; Sliwinski). In the Mediterranean region during the height of the migration flows of 2015, restrictions of access and the presence of a large number of photojournalists reportedly resulted in a saturation in media attention for those already in a vulnerable position and a certain lack of variety in the visualizations (Bengtsson Lundin). Furthermore, the presence of a photojournalist may help but may also put the people photographed at risk, an awareness expressed by image-makers in studies addressing the ethics of photographing (Linfield; Bengtsson Lundin). People in a vulnerable position are dependent on journalists’ personal and professional ethics enshrined in codes of conduct and practice. Yet, depending on the situation, they may not be in a position to decline to be photographed. Some photojournalists have articulated awareness of this power imbalance in the photographic situation, and may attempt to mitigate this, such as by asking for permission to photograph or framing the
image to cast the person in a respectful manner (Thomson; Bengtsson Lundin).
Furthermore, while the encounter between the photographic subject and image-maker is represented in the resulting image, unlike a reporter, a photojournalist seldom has the space to reflect upon it within the news format. However, some photojournalists today use social media, such as Instagram or Twitter, to post images and reflect about the topic or experience (Pantti), while others write articles about their experience. Thus, social media, as well as other venues for a personal form of storytelling and reflections, are resources some photojournalists draw upon in their work. The image-maker can also be personally affected, according to research finding that covering crises may have a traumatic impact (Bock; Linfield; Yaschur).
Witnessing and the civic role of the spectator have been explored by media studies and visual studies scholarship. Paul Frosh and Amit Pinchevski have expounded on the notion of a media witnessing that implicates both seeing and saying. John Peters, though not writing specifically about visual images, considers witnessing a civic act different from the act of seeing, which does not necessarily compel to acting on what one has seen. Ariella Azoulay suggests that photographs can offer a space for empathetic contemplation through the creation of a citizenry of photography. Sharon Sliwinski, in the book *Human Rights in Camera*, draws on the writings of Hannah Arendt and other scholars to examine the emergence of human rights as a juridical concept, and the role of the media and in particular photography in exposing human rights abuses. Based on a set of case studies from the 20th century, Sliwinski proposes that images as an “aesthetic meeting” may produce a community of spectators. She further argues that the act of photographing and viewing images are a constitutive part of investigations of human rights violations. However, “When world events capture distant spectators’ attention, what is starkly evident—and deeply important to reflect upon—is the great diversity of affective responses” (33).
A number of scholars have remarked on a tension between the public’s high expectations on photography and the transformative po-
potential of witnessing injustices, and at the same time a disappointment with the shortcoming of photographs to yield those results. Among them is Susie Linfield, who in *The Cruel Radiance: Photography and Political Violence*, an examination of the potential of photography to affect change, remarks: “...Seeing does not necessarily translate into believing, caring, or acting. That is the dialectic, and the failure, at the heart of the photograph of suffering” (33). To remedy this, Linfield proposes an ethics of showing on the part of image-maker, the news media and the public.
Sliwinski, in turn, recounts the experience of a photojournalist covering atrocities committed in the Balkans in the 1990s, believing that the images would provide proof leading to international intervention. This photographer later expressed disillusionment and doubts about his work’s ability to affect change (Sliwinski 119-122). Examining the international community’s failure to intervene in the atrocities in Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia and other human rights violations although evidence existed, Sliwinsky attributes this to the news media’s failure to cover the crises thoroughly and accurately, as well as a lack of political will. Furthermore, she draws on a number of scholars and survivors of atrocities, including Theodor Adorno, who, as cited by Sliwinski, critiques a misguided belief that injustices will not be repeated if the international community is aware of historical atrocities (136-138). Nevertheless, in the work of human rights, according to Sliwinski, the task of the spectator is to bear witness to that which cannot be put into words, “the differend,” attributed to Jean François Lyotard, in order to conduct the “attendant labor of finding idioms for them” (Sliwinski 33).
**EMPIRICAL MATERIALS AND METHODS OF ANALYSES**
In order to address how imagery recognized by the Swedish Picture of the Year contest visualized refugee migration, in terms of the positions of visibility, I selected entries on the topic of refugee migration that were nominated in *Årets Bild*, The Swedish Picture of the Year, the country’s leading photojournalism contest. I chose to study contest entries since images recognized by a jury of
peers are indicative of professional discourses, norms, and ideals (e.g. Andén-Papadopoulos; Kedra and Sommier). Furthermore, photojournalism contest imagery is widely circulated, thus potentially reaching a wide public (Kedra and Sommier).
I selected entries nominated in the 2016, 2017, and 2018 contests. The three consecutive years were selected to coincide with extensive migration into Sweden. A total of 15 entries on the topic of refugee migration were identified and included, among them ten single-image entries, four photo reportages, and one multimedia entry. The entries spanned different journalistic and photographic categories and genres, including domestic and international news, everyday life and reportage. I conducted a qualitative interpretative analysis of the selected imagery, drawing on Chouliaraki and Stolic’s typology of visibility: biological life, which refers to a state or situation where physical survival is at stake, empathy, threat, hospitality and self-reflexivity—each encouraging different “public dispositions” to act (1172). I share the view of these authors that the typologies identified are neither finite nor stable.
When exploring how extended coverage may contribute to our understanding of the experience of forced migration, I selected a nominated image in the contest that was part of a story that received attention in Sweden at the time, and followed the publication of an article written by a photojournalist taking part in the rescue operation in the Mediterranean that I mentioned in the opening section of this piece (Dagens Nyheter; Sveriges Radio P4 Sjuhärad). This image portrayed a Syrian father and son who had made their way to Sweden after being rescued by a coast guard boat sponsored by the media organization Schibstedt, the owner of the newspapers Svenska Dagbladet and Aftonbladet. The rescue operation was financed through a fundraising campaign by the two newspapers to benefit the Swedish Coast Guard, which contributed two vessels and volunteer crew (Östman). The project ran for about six months during 2015 and 2016 and saved nearly 2,000 lives (Jelmini). The initiative took place at a time when numerous refugees died as they attempted to make the Mediterranean crossing in overcrowded boats in order to
reach the European Union. The image recognized by the contest jury was made by a staff photographer of the Svenska Dagbladet newspaper who had been on assignment on board the ship. Later on, reconnecting with the family once they had made it to Sweden, this photojournalist photographed and made videos for additional stories about them, and also wrote about the experience. I conducted a narrative analysis of articles and other media forms published in Svenska Dagbladet between 2015 and 2019, with a particular focus on visual imagery. My aim was to construe a narrative of the family’s experience.
**SPACES OF EMPATHY**
While imagery corresponding to the position of biological life, according to the typology, may create a space for solidarity, there is arguably a more limited space for agency on the part of the person portrayed. This was also found in some of the examined imagery—such as in a photo reportage of unnamed people pictured in a refugee camp, and children pictured near drowning. Media portrayals of refugees have been criticized for taking them out of context through prevalent figures or tropes reducing them to “refugees” without a connection to place and without a past. According to this critique, readers learn little about the cause of the flight, or about the experience of those who flee. In the entries I examined, underlying causes as well as reception in the host country were part of some, though not all, visualizations and accompanying captions. Place was present in some entries, though refugees were also frequently shown separated from settings and place, such as in a series of photographs focusing on the journey. In another international news reportage entry, the visual story is sequenced to begin with the cause of flight—war—and conclude with journey’s end. This reportage visualizes the entire journey, and since there are different individuals and settings in each picture, I interpret the journey as an experience shared by all refugees seeking asylum in Europe. I have identified a range of positions in this series, from biological life and empathy to hospitality, an interpretation based on the editing of
the photo reportage where the narrative leads up to arrival in Sweden in the final frame.
Empathy was the most prevalent position found in the materials. This was particularly the case for images of children. This is not surprising, given that images of children, widely used in humanitarian photography, appeal to spectators’ desire to protect the innocent. Furthermore, photography is a tool for journalism to evoke strong emotion. However, children were a major part of the refugee story in 2015 since entire families migrated, crossing the sea and making their way across the continent, as was the case in Europe. The contest jury selected a number of images of children to represent the refugee story during the selected years, including the image selected as the top news photograph of the 2015. A more surprising finding was the empathetic portrayal of men. Maternal figures are frequently positioned to engender empathy in visualizations of refugees, according to the literature. Single images of men among the contest entries included a news photograph of a young man visually portrayed as a protagonist through placement as well as image composition. The young man is depicted carrying a baby while walking along a highway, while other refugees are seen behind him in the distance. Shot from a low vantage point, the young man towers above viewers. Yet, his gesture cradling the child evokes parental care more commonly seen in representations of mother figures. The protective father figure appeared in other imagery of families, including gestures of shielding children from injury or harm, echoing the findings of Kedra and Sommier who identified a nurturing father figure as an emerging rhetorical device. There were in fact fewer images of mother figures than fathers and young men in the examined materials from the Swedish photo contest. While this visual focus may be due to various factors, such as a family waiting to be reunited with female family members who are still in the country of origin, it nevertheless recurred in the examined materials.
The position of threat was not as common, perhaps a reflection of the empirical material and the contest aim to reward best-practice visualizations. I identified only one example of explicit threat: in one
of the few breaking-news images on the topic, showing a male asylum seeker being restrained after attacking the minister of migration during the minister’s visit to a hospital temporarily housing refugees. While the image and caption do not provide information about the reasons for the altercation, the scene nevertheless shows conflict, which is absent from other examined entries set in Sweden. A possibly latent threat, in turn, can be discerned in visualizations of refugees in transit or in a position of uncertainty, such as the news photograph of border police checking the papers of two young men on a train, the young men, seated, looking up at the police officers standing above them. The possible threat, as I interpret it, is suggested from the vantage point closely aligned with the police officers. In line with Chouliaraki and Stolic’s findings, a non-threatening position can be turned into threat, depending on the context in which images circulate and shifting discourses about migration.
Hospitality emerged as a position in different entries showing interactions between father and child from two different families awaiting asylum in Sweden. In one of them, an everyday-life category entry of a father and son fishing, their interaction is foregrounded in a documentary-mode image appearing to catch a slice of life unbeknownst to the photographic subjects. This image, which depicts a moment of bonding, will be further discussed in the following pages in connection with the *Svenska Dagbladet* coverage of the Syrian family. Everyday routines were also the focus of a reportage about a family residing in temporary housing at a camp site along with European migrants. Such everyday scenes provide points of connection. The photo reportage from the camp site shows adaption to life in the new country, although in a transitory setting intended for vacation trips rather than migration. This contradiction is foregrounded by the season. It is winter, a time when the camp site is closed to vacationers, yet the facility is kept open to rent space to migrants, a sign of a shortage of housing for refugees in the country.
While the reportage from the camp suggests a lack of hospitality, given the migrants’ apparent visual isolation from Swedish society, the content—including activities and socialization in the camp—and
the mood rather indicate that the image-maker intended to frame the story in a positive light. However, other contest entries can be read as critical of Sweden’s reception of the refugees, such as the news photograph showing families camping out in the snow at the point of entry,\textsuperscript{17} and the photo reportage of an immigration bureau office void of people, an anonymous setting for a first encounter with the host country.\textsuperscript{18} I interpret these visualizations as self-reflexive and offering a critical view of how refugees fare as they arrive in Sweden.
**ENCOUNTERING THE SWIRAKLY FAMILY**
A video posted on the *Svenska Dagbladet* news site, made by a staff photojournalist on assignment to cover a rescue operation of refugees in the Mediterranean, visualizes the experience of encountering death and being faced with the dilemma of whether or not to photograph the scene, an encounter discussed in the opening section of this essay (Hoelstad). The video focuses on the crew and their frustration, expressed in the soundtrack, at not being able to save everyone. A photograph the photojournalist had made previously, of a man and his son clinging to a board to stay afloat as they are about to be rescued, is inserted into the video. Through camera movement due to the rocking of the boat, the video evokes a feeling of chaos and confusion on the cramped deck.
The photojournalist first encountered the Syrian family the Swiraklys on the day of their rescue described above, as she took part in a fruitless attempt to save the life of a little girl, a cousin of the boy and the niece of the father of the family she would go on to cover in several stories. The photograph she made a few months later in Sweden, of the father and his son fishing in a tranquil lake, is a striking contrast. (The image, recognized by the Swedish photo contest, was discussed in the previous section.) The image was published as part of a photo reportage about the family (Fröberg and Hoelstad, 7 August 2016). Another image from this reportage made after the family’s arrival in Sweden shows the boy swimming in a lake. According to the caption, this is the moment when the boy overcomes his fear of water after the near-drowning experience.
The photojournalist and a reporter who also was on board the rescue vessel published additional stories about the family and their lives in Sweden during the next four years. The father and son are photographed living in a sparsely decorated apartment, communicating with the mother and the boy’s sister and older brother who are in Syria waiting for asylum permits and reunification in Sweden (Fröberg and Hoelstad, 3 April 2016; Fröberg, 25 February 2017). In another story, the photojournalist and reporter cover their arrival and reunification at the Stockholm airport (Fröberg and Treijs). Other reportages—consisting of text and photographs or video—show the boy starting school, and the father waiting to begin a Swedish course that will lead to chances of employment (Fröberg and Hoelstad, 4 November 2017; Treijs). The family is also shown reflecting on their experience (Fröberg and Hoelstad, 9 February 2019). In a video posted on the Svenska Dagbladet news site accompanying one of the stories, the father, seated in a studio against a dark backdrop and with a grave expression, narrates his family’s harrowing experience of flight (Fröberg and Hoelstad, 7 August 2016). He recalls the war and his son’s traumatic experience of the sea crossing. This is the most extensive testimony from a family member in the analyzed coverage. This testimony evokes Sliwinski’s notion that some experiences cannot be narrated. In the case of this father, it apparently took a year before he was ready to tell his story to the media.
A few years after their arrival in Sweden, the family appears to be in a sort of limbo in some images depicting social isolation and passivity. The family members are shown interacting with each other, yet with few other social contacts outside their home, except at the son’s school. The isolation may be due to the fact that the parents are not yet able to work or study, as explained in one of the articles, or it could be the result of the journalists’ presence and story focus. A certain formality is conveyed in some imagery—such as in an image showing family members waving from the balcony as the journalists arrive (Fröberg, 1 January 2016), a photograph filling a descriptive function in the story. In contrast, other images, interpretative of a mood or feeling, convey the relationship between members of the family. Thus, there are various genres or forms of photojournalism
in these stories, ranging from those that are visually driven to others more bound to the text and the topic of the story, each filling different functions in the reportages (Langton).
Told over time and in different media formats and genres, the coverage focuses on a family moving from the status of refugees to settling in the host country. Readers learn about their background and experiences, their reasons for fleeing, the trauma of flight, and the challenges of life in a new country. Such a personal focus on one family or person to represent a larger issue, in this case migration, is a common strategy in journalism, frequently used to personalize a complex issue. In light of the literature on media visualizations of migration, we may consider the strategy humanizing in that it gives a certain agency to the subjects of the story, such as in the aforementioned video testimony about the crossing of the Mediterranean. In contrast to the video and imagery from the rescue that directly visualize trauma, most other visualizations of the family made in Sweden have an everyday-life, non-dramatic focus. Emotions are however visualized in moments of celebration, such as the family’s reunification at the airport captured on video.
Another element of the narrative developing over time—visually as well as in the texts—is the journalists’ and, by extension, the newspaper’s support of the family’s striving to build a future in Sweden and their advocacy for them, such as participating in meetings with representatives of the Swedish Migration board. The interaction between journalists and family members are represented within visual imagery and in the text in various ways. It is foregrounded in the coverage of the boat rescue, as related by the photojournalist in her article, and in the video and photographs she made that day. Here, the photojournalist expresses the emotional impact the rescue experience had on her, recounting the impossibility of photographing and even accurately describing what she witnessed. This can be seen as an ethics of showing, following Linfield, and a witnessing where enunciation through writing makes journalism into a civic act (Peters).
Thus, emotion and connectedness are foregrounded in the various narratives, through a focus on family members’ perspectives and in the inclusion of the journalists, in particular the photographer and her bond with the family, such as in a description of her interaction with the boy. Furthermore, readers learn that the family who lost their daughter at sea names their newborn girl Malin, after the photographer, who took part of the effort to save their daughter (Fröberg and Hoelstad, 8 December 2016, Sveriges Radio P4 Gävleborg). Thus, the encounter and relationship between photojournalist and the family are an integral part of the narrative.
DISCUSSION: THE TASK OF THE WITNESS
My interpretative analysis of contest entries found various visualizations of refugees and their experience, including a focus on families and a nurturing father figure, in effect evading a stereotypical portrayal of migrants as distant, anonymous masses. The typology with five positions allowed for the identification of a broader range of visibility than the more commonly identified binaries in visual framing research, victim and threat. The most prevalent position found in my material was empathy, echoing the literature.
I believe there are a number of possible factors resulting in the prevalence of empathy in my materials rather than hospitality and self-reflexivity, which may invite identification and reflection and potentially foreground agency on the part of the subject. One factor could be the visual parameters and frames favored by the contest jury. Another could be the photojournalists’ choice of contest entries, catering to a prevailing trope, theme, or topic within the professional discourse. Yet another possibility is that assignments and media focus on crisis, conflict, and impact. When it comes to migration, media focus is frequently on crisis rather than structural issues or long-term processes. For instance, in 2015, the humanitarian situation in the Mediterranean called for media attention, and so did the movement of refugees through the continent as well as their arrival and reception in the host country. Each topic had high news value related to
humanitarian issues and asylum policy. However, the experience of people after the immediate crisis, once they have moved into housing, albeit temporary, doesn’t appear to be in the media’s focus as much. Another important factor is, of course, that there may be a lack of civic engagement on the part of the spectators, as Chouliaraki and Stolic suggest.
A subjective point of view was found in several contest entries, a departure from a distant and neutral position commonly associated with journalism. An important aspect of a photographer’s perspective lies in the choice of images or story to enter in a professional contest. A subjective approach and personal storytelling may be due to the contest policy, specifically that entries can include unpublished imagery. As a result, in the submission of entries in this contest, an image-maker can edit the story to make a certain argument. Furthermore, a recent subjective turn in photojournalism favors stories and images focusing on individuals and personalized stories (Nilsson 2020).
The recurring stories about the Swirakly family are shaped by the norms and routines of the news organization as much as by the journalists conducting the coverage. However, most images and videos published in these stories were demonstrably the result of collaboration and the consent of the family members to be photographed, filmed, and interviewed. Furthermore, in some entries, such as videos, family members speak about their experience, thus narrating in their own voices. This, in turn, may open space for agency and engagement with spectators, in particular since serial coverage potentially explores experiences or issues in depth.
Furthermore, while personal interaction between journalists and the people they cover challenges the professional code of neutrality and impartiality and is generally frowned upon in news coverage, such a connection is frequently foregrounded in reportages and interactive projects, such as those discussed here. I also found explicit examples of witnessing, on the part of the photojournalist and family members, such as the photojournalist’s reflecting on her decision not to photograph but rather to write what she saw, which I interpret as a
form of witnessing, following Peters. In that moment, the photojournalist expressed ambivalence about her professional role and wrestled with an ethics of showing (Linfield). And the father in the family narrated a traumatic experience, a form of witnessing that is personal and also communicates to a community of spectators (Sliwinski). What sets the analyzed stories published over time apart from the contest entries is a focus on everyday life—non-dramatic moments and relationships in mundane settings. Further research on photojournalism might look into such varied visual forms as well as forms of extended coverage over time. In this respect, the stories about the Swirakly family, although not analyzed here according to the typology, appear to offer a space for spectators to engage, through commitment to following the articles, but perhaps more as a fellow citizen than a witness of crisis.
The question of how photographs contribute to our understanding of the experience of forced migration must be discussed in specific context, as in the examples provided here. The work of photojournalists, which is the focus of this essay, is shaped by a number of factors, as discussed previously. Furthermore, a story may call for dramatic images showing the impact of an event, such as the plight of refugees attempting to cross the Mediterranean. As a result, images made and selected for publication may or may not portray people in a way that evokes empathy—and those people may or may not have agency or speak to their experience. These are some of the limitations of journalism and, by extension, photojournalism.
By sponsoring the rescue vessels in the Mediterranean with its own journalists on board, the Swedish newspaper also eschewed a position of neutrality. While my analyses focused primarily on visual images and practices, it is important to also draw attention to how news organizations shape the coverage. The news organization’s initiative can also be interpreted as support of a certain migration policy by foregrounding the plight of refugees. Thus, the newspaper and its owner took a humanitarian position, in effect aiding the refugees on humanitarian grounds. However, the boats also provided access to unique coverage. The participating newspapers ran stories where their photographers and reporters who had participated in the op-
eration recalled the horrors of seeing people drowned, yet satisfaction at being able to help (Bardell and Wiman). While this kind of testimony is frequently used in crisis reporting, it also foregrounds the intervention of journalists as agents of the story. As a result, while the sea rescue fulfills a humanitarian obligation to assist those at risk of drowning, the news coverage arguably risks placing people experiencing flight in the position of “deserving refugee.” The Swedish news organization, as sponsor of the operation, foregrounds its own empathy with the coverage, an effect found by Chouliaraki and Stolic, who found that the position of self-reflexivity tended to focus on the efforts of the benefactors. Elements of this position can also be found in the coverage of the Swirakly family, though more so in the text than in the images, showing the challenge of maintaining a focus on the protagonist and their agency when the storyteller is in focus.
Sliwinski and Linfield, in their respective work, discuss image-makers’ witnessing and their response to the experience as constitutive of the visualization. These authors also discuss photojournalists’ reflections on the boundaries, limitations, and potential of photography and their profession. From the perspective of a photojournalist, the challenge may be how to adequately capture and visualize the impact of atrocities or trauma. A spectator’s challenge, in turn, is to not turn away but to engage with the image. According to Sliwinski, “[...] such encounters with the incommensurable are encounters with the ground zero of history and politics itself (136)[...] But even angst demands to be communicated, indeed, perhaps especially this feeling, this brush up against the incommensurable, this aesthetic meeting with injustice that drives the world spectator to share the evaluation with others” (136-137). What follows is an expanded responsibility on the part of the public to engage critically with history, photographs, and the photojournalists doing the coverage, and to call for empathetic visual portrayals.
WORKS CITED
—. Årets Bild Sverige, AB, 2016.
NOTES
5. Nominated entries are those awarded either first, second, or third place in the contest. In the context of the contest, nominated entries are publicly circulated in the contest yearbook and in the annual exhibition showcasing the contest.
6. The Swedish Picture of the Year contest, founded in 1942, is open to members of the Swedish Press Photographer’s Club, PFK. Only professional photojournalists and photojournalism students may become members. A jury of peers, usually with one jury member from each of the Scandinavian countries, Norway, Denmark, and Sweden, meets to judge the entries. The selection process is based on a blind review of submissions.
7. In a previous study, I analyzed portraits of children experiencing forced migration. Those images are therefore excluded from this analysis, with one exception: an image made by photojournalist Malin Hoelstad, of a father and his son fishing, discussed here as a visualization of a father figure, and as part of extended coverage of one family. The image won 2nd place in the domestic everyday life singles category in the 2017 contest.
10. Specifically, the news photo of the year 2015 is a close-up of a child in repose set against a dark backdrop, eyes wide open. Kedra and Sommier, who analyzed this image and others in the series of images of children sleeping on the ground, in a forest, or on sidewalk, found that the image-maker uses the rhetorical figure of “oxymoron,” that is, two incompatible positions which, in turn, raise questions in viewers.
15. 2nd place, domestic everyday life singles 2017. Malin Hoelstad. I analyzed this image in a previous study (Nilsson 2020).
17. 2nd place, domestic news singles 2017. Photographer: Jessica Gow.
19. On the anniversary of the rescue operation, Aftonbladet was present when a rescued family, now residing in Sweden, met with crew members who had saved them (Nygren).
21. This tension has been pointed out by Chouliaraki, who notes that the position of self-reflexivity tends to focus on the efforts of the benefactors, an argument treated more extensively by Chouliaraki in The Ironic Spectator: Solidarity in the Age of Post-humanitarianism. Polity, 2013. |
LAWRENCE HEIGHTS PHASE 1 DISTRICT
PUBLIC ART PLAN
DATE: June 5, 2015
LAWRENCE HEIGHTS PHASE 1 DISTRICT
PUBLIC ART PLAN
Table of Contents
1.0 Introduction
1.1 Development Context
1.2 District Public Art Plan
1.3 Phase 1 District Public Art plan
1.4 Urban Design and Planning Context
1.5 Public Art Planning Framework
1.6 Principles of Public Art Program
2.0 Opportunity 1
2.1 Block 1A & Block 1B
2.2 Theme: Pronouncing an Entrance
2.3 Potential Locations for public art
2.4 The Greenway: Linear Park & Open Space
2.5 The Buildings
2.6 Site Specs
2.7 Material Opportunity
3.0 Opportunity 2
3.1 Block 1C
3.2 Theme: Connectivity
3.3 Potential Locations for public art
4.0 Implementation
4.1 Public Art Program Management
4.2 Public Art Consultant Scope
4.3 Artist Selection and Competition Process
5.0 Submission Requirements
6.0 Project budget
7.0 Promotion
8.0 Schedule
9.0 Amending Procedure
APPENDIX 1: Sample Public Artworks
APPENDIX 2: Development Design Consultants
APPENDIX 3: Heights Development Inc.
1.0 INTRODUCTION
The Lawrence Heights Phase 1 District Public Art Plan ("District Public Art Plan") provides a framework for the commissioning of public artworks and projects for the lands within Phase 1 of the Lawrence Heights Revitalization. This will involve the collaboration of artists and/or art teams with project design teams to create public artworks that are integrated, semi-integrated, or singular interventions. The Phase 1 district area includes lands located on both sides of the Allen Expressway bound by Ranee Avenue to the North, Flemington Road to the West, and Varna Drive to the East. The Southern boundary of Phase 1 is existing TCHC housing that will be redeveloped in the future.
1.1 DEVELOPMENT CONTEXT: THE LAWRENCE HEIGHTS REVITALIZATION PHASE 1
In Lawrence Heights, Toronto Community Housing Corporation ("TCHC") is currently taking on its largest Revitalization project, bringing new housing and amenities, as well as strengthening the relationships between residents and the surrounding community. Planning for the revitalization of Lawrence Heights started in 2008, and since then has gathered input from residents, Community Animators, and local organizations which has informed the Lawrence-Allen Revitalization Plan, the Lawrence-Allen Secondary Plan (approved by Toronto City Council in 2011), the Community Services and Facilities Strategy (2011), and the Social Development & Action Plan (2012).
Over the 20 year revitalization, 1208 existing rent-geared-to-income homes housing more than 3,500 residents will be replaced and an additional 4092 market condominium and townhouse units will be built in Lawrence Heights.
In 2013, Heights Development Inc. ("Heights") – a joint venture between Context & Metropia – was selected as TCH’s development partner for Phase 1 of the revitalization. Phase 1 will involve the demolition of the existing 233 rent-geared-to-income units administered by Toronto Community Housing and the comprehensive redevelopment of the Phase 1 lands on a realigned street network with 233 replacement rent-geared-to-income units, an additional 824 market residential units, and a 1.1 hectare public park. Phase 1 is expected to take up to 8 years to complete. Construction of the first buildings is targeted to start fall 2015. The Yorkdale Condominiums (1A on map), and Yorkdale Condominiums 2 (1B on map) will be the first two buildings constructed in Phase 1. The next components of Phase 1 include 175 market and 57 TCHC rental townhouses as well as a new public Park (1C on map 1).
1.2 DISTRICT PUBLIC ART PLAN
The site of Phase 1 was re-zoned by Toronto Community Housing in October of 2013 to allow for its re-development as part of the Lawrence Heights Revitalization. Based on the approved site specific zoning, funding for public art is based on the Percent for Public Art Program Guidelines for the market housing that is to be developed. The preparation of a District Public Art Plan responds to provisions of the Section 37 Agreement between TCHC and the City of Toronto dated October 8th, 2013. As the development partner of TCHC for Phase 1 of the Lawrence Heights Revitalization, Heights is responsible for the design and implementation of this District Public Art Plan.
The Lawrence-Allen Urban Design Guidelines first identified a series of potential sites for public art on both public and private owned land within the public realm of the broader Lawrence-Allen focus area. These sites were identified for meeting the criteria in terms of appropriateness with respect to pedestrian priority areas, landmark sites, view corridors and view termini. The Lawrence Heights Phase 1 District Public Art Plan expands on these potential sites identifying further site opportunities in the newly designed Phase 1 Area.
This District Public Art Plan proposes a framework for phased commissioning of two Public Artworks, implemented in line with the re-development time lines. The first commission will respond to opportunities in Block 1A and Block 1B, while the second commission will address opportunities in the remaining section of Phase 1, identified as Block 1C for the purposes of this report.
Each of the two commissions will follow the same artist selection and project implementation process, though these processes may take place years apart due to the phasing of development.
Within this District Public Art Plan you will find:
• An outline of the objectives and principles for the public art program in Lawrence Heights.
• Potential priority and secondary site opportunities for public art.
• A description of the proposed implementation process that includes:
1. A selection method to identify artists
2. A description of the role of the public art consultant
3. A description of the public art program management model
4. A preliminary estimate of the proposed budget based on estimated construction costs
1.3 PHASE 1 DISTRICT PUBLIC ART PLAN MAP
This District Public Art Plan identifies both priority and secondary locations with Public Art potential within each development block area, identified in map 3. Priority locations are sites with a high level of public accessibility, visibility, and offer opportunities for a variety of expressions for public art. Secondary sites have moderate levels of accessibility and visibility and represent suitable sites for public art. With this in mind artist(s) will be given the agency to select the site they intend to activate. Artist may activate one site or multiple sites. Locations marked with a star sit on public land.
MAP 3: PHASE 1 DISTRICT PUBLIC ART PLAN MAP
1.4 URBAN DESIGN AND PLANNING CONTEXT
The Lawrence Heights redevelopment project is part of a new wave of change taking place in Toronto, with the central suburbs assuming exciting new roles based on changing demands, and the absorption of new urban density. The result of redeploying increased density within a well-connected urban structure is the ability to generate new community energy and vitality within the public realm.
The quality of the public realm is vital in creating memorable community environments in which people want to live, work and play. This development proposal seeks to connect, activate and diversify the public realm as part of the provision for new market and rental housing.
The design of the public realm is central to the revitalization. Phase 1 of the project introduces new urban forms including mews, lanes, urban streets and blocks, and a linear park. Each is designed to reflect a new sensibility for the area that is fundamentally urban and social - geared towards enhanced physical & social connectivity, and flexibility, promoting mixed modes of transportation and wealth of choice for movement, and designed to include memorable spaces for the community to come together within a transformed public realm.
The revitalization of the Lawrence Heights community has been the focus of a comprehensive planning process over the last decade. Within the overall context of the City of Toronto’s Official Plan, numerous plans and studies have been undertaken. The following is a summary of the key guiding documents that have shaped the Phase 1 development:
**Lawrence-Allen Secondary Plan, 2012**
The Lawrence-Allen Secondary Plan, approved June 19, 2012 per OMB decision, identified the need for further elaboration on the public realm and accompanying design guidelines and strategies. Blocks 1A and 1B were called out as “special areas” requiring particular attention in the form of further elaborated guidelines.
**Lawrence-Allen Urban Design Guidelines, 2012**
The Urban Design Guidelines, issued on February 14, 2012, supplements the Secondary Plan by providing more detailed guidance for development.
**The Lawrence Heights Social Development Plan - 2012**
In 2012 the City of Toronto, Toronto Community Housing and the resident lead Social Development Plan Steering Committee co-authored *Sharing Our Community Together: Our Social Development & Action Plan for Lawrence Heights*. This plan will act as a road map for the neighborhood’s revitalized future.
**Lawrence-Allen Public Realm Master Plan, 2013 (Draft)**
This in-progress report provides a set of principles as considerations to each of the public realm components and also to the overall integrated public realm network. (Report in-progress - serves as a guiding document only)
1.5 PUBLIC ART PLANNING FRAMEWORK
The Lawrence Heights Phase 1 District Public Art Plan was prepared in response to provisions laid out within multiple planning documents including the Site-Specific Zoning By-law Amendment No. 1338-2013 and the Section 37 Agreement between TCHC and the City of Toronto dated October 8th, 2013.
Section 37 Provisions
As part of the City of Toronto’s Official Plan of the Ontario Planning Act, Section 37 Agreements determine what community benefits will be provided in return for increases in height and density associated with a particular development. Section 37 additionally mandates the development of a Public Art Plan. Schedule 2 - of Section 37 Provisions of By-Law 1338-2013 provides that: “(4) Prior to the issuance of the first above-grade building permit for the redevelopment of the Development Site, the owner shall: a) Obtain approval of a Public Art Plan carried out in compliance with the Percent for Public Art Program Guidelines for the construction of the proposed market residential units.”
Section 12 of the Section 37 Agreement sets out the basis upon which the required Public Art Plan shall be executed. Section 12.7 sets out three options for implementing the Public Art Program. Option 2 states “the Owner may commission Art works and collaborative Art works to the value of the Art Contribution and such works shall be located upon the Subject Lands or City-owned lands adjacent thereto in accordance with the provisions of this Article 12.”
Heights thus intends to commission art for its own lands and for city owned public parks within the district plan area for the benefit of the community, workers and visitors of Lawrence Heights and in accordance with City policy. The commissioning of Public Art will be undertaken in two phases to ensure the distribution of art throughout the site, while also ensuring that significant works can be commissioned. This plan includes provisions for Public Art Commissions, the first within Blocks 1A and 1B, and the second within Block 1C.
Official Plan
Further considerations have been incorporated into this District Public Art Plan, based on the Official Plan in regards to the role of Public Art. Section 3.1.4 of The Official Plan contains specific policies which describe the role which public art will play in City-building and the development of a vibrant built environment. The preamble to this section provides that: “Public art has broad appeal and can contribute to the identity and character of a place by telling a story about the site’s history. It creates a landmark and celebrates the cultural diversity and creativity of our communities.”
Lawrence-Allen Secondary Plan
Section 2.2.6 of the Lawrence-Allen Secondary Plan additionally sets forth specific objectives: “Public art in Lawrence-Allen will contribute to the character of the neighbourhood by enhancing the quality of public spaces and spaces that are publicly accessible and visible. Public art will facilitate expression of community heritage, community identity, cultural diversity, and community values of sustainability and connectivity, and other themes that will contribute to a sense of place. Opportunities for the local arts community and local artists to participate in the provision of public art will be encouraged.”
In response to these mandates, Heights intends to seek out and commission socially engaged artists and artist teams with proven track records and ongoing practices of engaging diverse communities.
1.6 PRINCIPLES FOR PUBLIC ART PROGRAM
Public art may take the form of integrated, semi-integrated or singular interventions. Additionally, the public art program will be administered based on following Lawrence Heights’ Principles for Public Art.
These include:
- **ARTISTIC OPPORTUNITY**: The project’s capacity to provide a unique opportunity for the artist to engage the public and the residents of the development.
- **ENGAGING THE PUBLIC REALM**: Engagement through the Arts.
- **PUBLIC PROFILE**: Promoting and building Toronto’s public profile at the national and international levels.
- **SITE SELECTION AND SPECIFICITY**: The project’s selection of appropriate site(s), and further responsiveness to the specific physical, environmental, and design context of the proposed site(s).
- **SITE ACTIVATION**: The dynamic activation of the site and consideration of interventions on a variety of scales.
- **HEIGHTENED SITE ACCESSIBILITY**: The project’s contribution visually and / or physically to the accessibility of the site.
- **COMMUNITY ENGAGEMENT**: Where appropriate within the Artist’s process, a meaningful engagement of community residents in the conception, fabrication, installation, and/or final artwork.
- **SOCIA LLY ENGAGED ARTISTIC PRACTICE**: The artist’s proven experience with a community engaged artistic practice. Consideration of past models and approaches, while reflecting on the international discourse on public art, social practice, tactical urbanism, and community building.
- **RESIDENT OPPORTUNITIES**: Where possible, the creation of employment and/or mentorship opportunities for residents.
- **SENSITIVITY TO CULTURAL HERITAGE**: Consideration of community heritage, community identity, cultural diversity, community values, and other themes that will contribute to a sense of place. Some of these themes have been well documented in the Lawrence Heights Social Development Plan (2012) and the Heritage Interpretation Plan (2015).
2.0 OPPORTUNITY 1
2.1 BLOCK 1A & 1B
The first opportunity for the commissioning of public art exists within Blocks 1A & 1B, as shown in maps 5 and 6. Blocks 1A & 1B are situated in the northwest corner of the Phase 1 development area of the larger Lawrence Heights Revitalization. The site is bounded by Ranee Avenue to the north, Flemington Road to the west, Varna to the east, and 2 new public streets to the south on either side of the Allen Expressway. Blocks 1A & 1B have a unique proximity to both Yorkdale Mall and the Yorkdale TTC subway station at Ranee.
2.2 THEME: PRONOUNCING AN ENTRANCE
At the northernmost sites of the new Lawrence Heights Development and the connection point to both Yorkdale Subway Station and Ranee Avenue, Blocks 1A & 1B represent an opportunity for public art that Pronounces the Entrance to the Community.
2.3 POTENTIAL LOCATIONS FOR PUBLIC ART
As identified in maps 5 & 6, one priority & two secondary locations for public art have been identified within each of Blocks 1A & 1B based on public accessibility, value as neighbourhood entranceways, pedestrian pathways, view corridors and view termini. High visibility locations shown in red on map 5.
Site A1 & A2 (PRIORITY): These zones encompass a public park east of Allen Road and a publicly accessible open space west of Allen Road, which represent significant additions to the public realm as well as new pedestrian pathways. In particular, a unique opportunity for integrated public art works exists at the north entrances of each park/Open Space along Ranee Avenue, where new retaining walls will be constructed parallel to the Allen Expressway in each park/Open Space. Site A1 sits on publicly accessible private space and site A2 sits on Public Park land.
Site B1 & B2 (SECONDARY): The corners of Flemington and Ranee Avenue as well as Varna and Ranee Avenue respectively represent entranceways to the west and east portions of the neighbourhood, with high visibility along Ranee avenue. Sites B1 and B2 sit on public land.
Site C1 & C2 (SECONDARY): At the termini of both the linear park and the Open Space and new private courtyards or “mews”, opportunities exists for integrated public art on and below the covered building overhangs.
2.4 THE GREENWAY: A LINEAR PARK AND OPEN SPACE
A highlight of the Lawrence Heights Secondary Plan is a Greenway that includes both public park and publicly accessible open space running parallel with the Allen Expressway on both sides. The project introduces a new identity for the Greenway to overcome its challenging, traffic-dominated context.
The initial 115m segments of the Greenway will signal the start of a new community green network. The northernmost section of the Greenway will set the stage for future phases of construction which, over time, will connect from Ranee to Lawrence as a continuous public pedestrian corridor. It represents a key link within the larger system of parks and open space for Phase 1 and will establish the design language for the future community Park. It plays a role as the northern terminus of the line to mark the end of the Greenway and slow movement as it intersects with Ranee Avenue and transit (Yorkdale subway station). A new retaining wall will be constructed at the entrance to each park on both Blocks along the Allen Expressway.
2.5 THE BUILDINGS
Block 1A and Block 1B have been designed with four active frontages, creating a diversity of opportunities for public artworks of varying scales and intensities.
2.6 SITE SPECS
MAP 7: STRUCTURE PLAN - BLOCK 1A & 1B
### 2.7 Material Opportunity: Salvaged Wood
During the construction of Phase 1, many trees within the development area will need to be removed to facilitate construction. It is Height’s vision that these trees be salvaged and utilized as material for the new urban design and, if applicable, public art. While it is not mandatory, Heights encourages artist teams to consider ways in which to reinterpret the milled timber from the existing mature trees as a component of the raw material for public art. This material can be used as part of the creative process, such as through wood molds, or as a material component of the final artwork. If wood is utilized in the final public artwork, the artist or team will be expected to identify how this wood will be treated to assure its long-term durability.
### Details on Salvaged Trees
The most appropriate tree species for reuse are the thornless honey locust, maples, ash, and any other hardwood species (which are ideal for many purposes including furniture). The honey locust in particular is ideal for wood elements within the linear parks, as this species has a natural resistance to rot.
3.0 OPPORTUNITY 2
3.1 BLOCK 1C
The second opportunity for the commissioning of public art exists within Block 1C as shown in map 8. This Block includes the northeast section of the Phase 1 development area of the larger Lawrence Heights Revitalization. Central to Block C is a new public park, a major addition to the public realm. This park represents an ideal centralized site for public art.
3.2 THEME: CONNECTIVITY
BLOCK 1C offers the opportunity for public art that emphasizes the new park as a gathering point and core connective tissue of the community.
3.3 POTENTIAL LOCATIONS FOR PUBLIC ART
One priority & three secondary locations for public art have been identified within Block 1C based on public accessibility, sight lines, gateways, and neighbourhood connections. All four proposed sites sit on public land, with sites A, B, and C within a new public park and site D located within the right of way. As such, the specific parameters of these opportunities will be clarified in consultation with the Parks Department, Transportation Services and Engineering and Construction Services as plans are developed for the new park and new roadworks. The public park is expected to be designed by the Parks Dept. This will be determined as the project progresses. Additionally, the aforementioned staff will be engaged as appropriate to undertake a technical review of public art concept proposals prior to the selection of the final public artwork(s) for these sites. The artist may engage only the priority site, and/or may choose to also engage secondary sites.
Site A (PRIORITY): Site A spans the entire northern street frontage of the new public park. This site has clear site lines along Street C, inviting residents from Varna to the West as well as neighbourhoods to the east into this new public amenity space.
Site B (SECONDARY): corner of Flemington Road and Street ‘C’ represents a key automobile and pedestrian termini, linking Lawrence Heights to bordering neighbourhoods to the east.
Site C (SECONDARY): Site C consists of the central area of the new public park, a major new gathering point.
Site D (SECONDARY): The corner of Varna Avenue and Street ‘C’ represents a key automobile and pedestrian termini, linking residents of the townhouses to the east with residents of Block 1B. It too has a clear view corridor to the new public park. This site is located on public land in the public ROW.
4.0 IMPLEMENTATION
4.1 Public Art Program Management
Heights will oversee the implementation of the public art program laid out in this District Public Art Plan, and will manage the project through the following process:
• PREPARE THE DISTRICT PUBLIC ART PLAN
Heights in consultation with stakeholders (Heights, TCH, City) has developed this District Public Art Plan.
• PRESENT DISTRICT PLAN TO TPAC
District Public Art Plan presented to Toronto Public Art Commission, Chief Planner, Executive Director, and City Council.
• PREPARE BLOCK PLAN AND PRESENT TO TPAC
In conjunction with the Site Plan Approval, a public art consultant will be hired who in consultation with Heights will develop detailed individual block plans for the identified public art opportunities. Public Art programs will be developed simultaneously with the emerging site plans reflecting the objectives of the approved District Public Art Plan. Detailed public art block plans, as further described in this plan, will be a condition of site plan approval.
• HOST COMPETITION
The Public Art Consultant will consult the Toronto Public Art Commission and appropriate city staff when drafting the competition brief for each commission. The Art Consultant will then implement the competition process.
• COORDINATE IMPLEMENTATION
Heights will coordinate with the selected artists and city staff to facilitate the smooth implementation and installation of the selected public artwork(s). The public art consultant will be available on contract to assist with this process on as needed basis.
• MAINTAIN COMMUNICATION WITH CITY
As Project Manager, Heights will maintain on-going communication with City staff (this may include staff from Parks Department, Engineering Services, Arts and Cultural Services, Transportation Services, and Urban Design)
NOTE: If Public Artwork is to be sited on Public Land, Public Art Terms of Reference will be developed and submitted to Stakeholders, including requisite City departments, for comment.
4.2 Public Art Consultant Scope
The art consultant will be an independent agent hired on contract by the developer to contribute to the implementation of both public opportunities outlined in this plan. The primary scope of work for the art consultant will be to promote and facilitate the artist selection and competition process, as well as acting as an advocate for the artists throughout this process with the intent of achieving the successful integration of art within the development project. The Public Art Consultant will be selected by Heights. As of June 5th a short list of 5 potential consultants have been identified and Heights has commenced an interview process to select the most appropriate candidate. A contract will be awarded to the successful candidate within 30 days of the approval of this District Public Art Plan.
The scope of work for the Public Art Consultant for each Public Art Opportunity, in chronological order, will be as follows:
- **PREPARE BLOCK PLAN:**
Upon approval of the site plan and site plan agreement, the art consultant in consultation with Heights will develop detailed individual block plans for the identified public art opportunities. Public Art programs will be developed simultaneously with the emerging site plans reflecting the objectives of the approved District Public Art Plan.
- **PREPARE COMPETITION BRIEF:** A competition brief will be written for each block plan for the purposes of promoting the public art opportunity. The brief will be vetted through a technical advisory committee of city staff brought together by the City of Toronto’s Urban Design Department, prior to its issuance to the public. This technical advisory committee should include staff from the Parks department, the Public Arts office, Right of Way, and potentially a private conservator.
- **PROMOTE THE OPPORTUNITY:** Promote the two public art opportunities to local and international artists and teams via online art forums such as Akimbo. This includes distributing the competition brief, as well as holding a local information session.
- **TARGET SOCIALLY ENGAGED ARTISTS:** Develop a list of at least 10 socially engaged public artists whose practices and past works fit well with this opportunity and context. The public art consultant will then target promotion to these artists and encourage their submissions. This should include artists who have the capacity to engage diverse communities and also develop permanent public artworks.
- **LIAISON WITH ARTISTS:** Throughout the competition process the public art consultant will liaison with interested artists. They will maintain clear and transparent lines of communication with all applicants throughout the competition process.
- **LIAISON WITH COMMUNITY:** The public art consultant will liaison with the TCH community animator team to gather resident feedback on the finalist proposals. This feedback will be summarized in text by the public art consultant and presented to the jury members.
- **SELECT FINALISTS:** Work with the Developer to select 5 finalists and liaison with each while they prepare and present detailed design concepts for the jury.
- **COORDINATE THE JURY:** As part of the competition process the public art consultant will coordinate the jury process.
• ARTIST CONTRACT: The Art Consultant shall develop an artist’s contract that is agreeable and signed by all relevant parties.
• CONSULTATION THROUGHOUT PROCESS: The Consultant shall be available throughout the project implementation for periodic review as needed.
4.3 Artist Selection and Competition Process
Heights, with the assistance of the chosen Public Art Consultant, will do an open call for proposals from artists and art teams via online art forums such as Akimbo and will subsequently prepare a competition brief. The brief will be vetted through the City of Toronto’s Urban Design Department prior to its issuance to the public. The developer will then select 5 finalists with priority going to artists with significant public art experience, each artist or artist team will be paid a fee of $3000 to prepare and present detailed design concepts to a jury. Prior to the final jury decision the 5 finalists design concepts will be presented to the TCH community animator team to gather resident feedback. This feedback will be summarized in text by the public art consultant and shared with the jury members.
The successful artist will work with the developer and design team to ensure that the art concept presents an integrated and connected feel with the design of the buildings, public realm and site. The winning entry must fall within the outlined budget and be easily maintained. A maintenance fund will be created by the developer. If the public art is installed on private land owned by the condominium corporation, the fund will be turned over to this legal entity.
Due to the fact that the proposed sites for Opportunity 1 fall both on public and private land, special attention will be made to this factor. The five finalists will be informed about this reality. If their proposed artworks fall both on public and private land, they will be asked to consider how this may affect maintenance. The selected artist will additionally be asked to work with the developer to address this challenge throughout implementation.
The public art work if on public lands will be donated to the City of Toronto’s Public Art and Monument Collection which is managed by Arts and Culture Services. For this reason, public art on public lands is subject to public accessibility and safety standards, including the City Accessibility Guidelines, City operational guidelines and standards including snow removal, maintenance and durability in our variable climate. Additionally, the public art must comply with The Material Selection Guidelines for Outdoor Artworks as well as the General Requirements for Donation to the City of Toronto’s Public Art and Monument Collection.
Prior to being issued to artists, the technical and maintenance sections of the Competition Brief will be reviewed by:
• Toronto Transportation Services regarding rights-of-way issues
• Toronto Engineering and Construction Services regarding utilities and construction issues
• Toronto Parks, Forestry and Recreation Division regarding public park issues
• Toronto Urban Design regarding urban design issues and public art objectives
• Toronto Arts & Culture Services, Economic Development and Culture regarding public art objectives.
Additionally, artist finalists will be asked to submit their proposals for technical review. The technical review will be undertaken by The Heights development team as well as representatives from:
• Transportation Services
• Engineering and Construction Services
• Parks, Forestry and Recreation’s Parks Division
• Arts & Culture Services, Economic Development and Culture
• Urban Design Division, City Planning
Arts & Culture Services, Economic Development and Culture will participate in an Ex-Officio capacity in the final selection process. Technical reviews of all public art components will also take place on an as needed basis as commissioned designs advance through construction documents. Finally, Heights maintains the right to veto the selected artist and redo the competition at its own expense.
Jury
The committee will be composed of one developer representative, one community representative, three art experts, including one expert from the local community (Ward 15). The jury members will be compensated $300 each for their participation and expertise.
1. [TBD] Developer: Heights
2. [TBD] Local Resident (TCH Animator) (area resident)
3. [TBD] Arts Expert who is a member of the LH Culture Advisory Group (Lives and or works in ward). If an eligible candidate cannot be found an alternate will be identified by the Arts Consultant.
4. [TBD] Arts Expert
5. [TBD] Arts Expert (Selected by Art Consultant)
Alternate (2nd resident rep, or arts expert) - Alternate will be included in the jury process, but will only be asked to vote if one of the other jury members is unable to complete their responsibilities due to unforeseen circumstances.
Note: Jurors for each jury will be identified as part of Block Plan
5.0 Artist Competition Submission Requirements
Round 1 - Expression of Interest
Please submit an application package in one PDF & a hard copy that includes:
1. Letter of interest (1 page)
2. Project concept description (1 page)
3. Past experience undertaking community engaged projects with diverse peoples. (1/2 page)
4. Fabrication process & material durability (1/2 page)
5. Initial concept sketches + Samples of past work (5-20)
Round 2 - Full Concept Proposal
(top 5 applicants from round 1 will received $3000 to prepare a detailed proposal)
1. Project concept description (1-3 pages)
2. Community engagement plan (1 page)
3. Fabrication process & material durability (1 page)
4. Proposed Production Time line
5. Proposed Budget
6. Projected long-term maintenance needs
7. Detailed renderings / sketches (2-5)
6.0 Project Budgets
Block 1A & 1B: $829,416 (Estimated requirement)
Block 1C: $479,970 (Estimated requirement)
Actual budget for public art will be based on final construction costs of the development -- 1% of the gross construction costs.
a) Site Allocation – Minimum 75% of budget. This includes the artist’s fee as well as the costs of fabrication, installation, and up to 5% for expenses related to community engagement within the artist or artist team’s artistic process. It too includes a 10% contingency fund, which if not used at time of completion of the public artwork, will be utilized to improve and or add to the artist’s project.
b) Administrative costs – up to 5% of budget. This includes project management costs including: progress reporting; artist assistance; mediation; coordination of work on site with contractors; and review of disbursements. It too includes costs associated with the competition process including travel fees for out-of-town artists, courier, telephone and general office expenses.
c) Art Consultant – up to 5% of budget. This includes 3% for primary Public Art Consultant scope, and 2% held for additional consultation as needed throughout the implementation process.
d) Resident engagement & community relations - up to 5% for community relations, promotion, documentation, and resident engagement activities that keep both residents of TCHC and the broader community connected to the public art program. If deemed a priority by Heights, the art consultant or the artist, this could include resident consultations, workshops, mentorships, and events. If the artist undertakes significant community engagement as part of their artistic process, a portion of these funds may at the discretion of Heights, be re-allocated from this budget line to support that activity.
e) Maintenance fund – 10% for maintenance must come with any art work donated to the City. For Artworks located on private land up to 10% for maintenance, subject to modification based on the final design(s).
The artist’s budget requirements must be supported with back-up documentation, i.e. quotes & estimates, where applicable. The following would be included in this budget:
- Design fee – includes dealer commission if applicable
- Material costs
- Fabrication costs
- Supervision of fabrication
- On-site labour costs related to installation
- Extraordinary equipment costs
- Cost of community engagement activities if it is part of his/her process
- Any necessary permits or testing costs
- Insurance costs
- Legal fees
- Applicable taxes
- Travel and delivery expenses during fabrication and installation
- Contingency fund (5% of fabrication cost)
### 7.0 Promotion
The Art Consultant will be responsible to promote the public art competition. As the public art program manager, context will work with the artist, to coordinate and manage all activity related to the promotion of the public art work, including press releases, unveiling ceremonies, proper accreditation and signage, and liaising with the media.
### 8.0 Schedule
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Event</th>
<th>Date</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Anticipate District Public Art Plan approval</td>
<td>Summer 2015</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>Opportunity 1</strong></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Block Plan Submission</td>
<td>Fall 2015</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Artist Competition</td>
<td>Winter 2016</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Installation</td>
<td>Spring 2018</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><strong>Opportunity 2</strong></td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Block Plan Submission</td>
<td>Spring 2017</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Artist Competition</td>
<td>Fall 2017</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Installation</td>
<td>Fall 2019</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
### 9.0 Amending Procedures
In the event that locations or budget allocations must be adjusted through changing circumstances in the future, Heights will prepare an amendment for the review and approval of the Toronto Public Art Commission and the Chief Planner and Executive Director. The amending procedure will apply if the block and road patterns for this development are altered in a significant way. This process is consistent with City practice on other projects.
APPENDIX 1: SAMPLE PUBLIC ARTWORKS
Public art can “pronounce an entrance” and welcome us to the public realm through eye catching monumental sculptures and or playfully designed integrated works that encourage interactivity. Note: The Following images are examples of such projects elsewhere, but not directly representative of the artists who may be considered for this public art program.
The use of surface treatment is another possible approach to the public art.
Artist lead community collaborative projects can result in powerful public art that reflects a community’s vision or foregrounds local cultural undercurrents. Projects associated with social practice, new genre public art, community art, and tactical urbanism are welcome as long as they result in permanent public art.
THEASTER GATES / “DORCHESTER PROJECTS” / CHICAGO
RICK LOW / “PROJECT ROW HOUSES” / HOUSTON
JEANNE VAN HEESWIJK + DENNIS KASPIRO / “FACE YOUR WORLD” / AMSTERDAM
PARK FICTION / HAMBURG
APPENDIX 2: DEVELOPMENT DESIGN CONSULTANTS
KPMB
KPMB Architects
KPMB was founded in 1987 by Bruce Kuwabara, Thomas Payne, Marianne McKenna and Shirley Blumberg. The firm has since earned hundreds of awards for architectural excellence including 14 Governor General’s Medals, Canada’s highest honour. In the last decade, KPMB has played a major role in the development of Toronto as an internationally recognized centre with projects for the Bell Lightbox for the Toronto International Film Festival, Canada’s National Ballet School, the Gardiner Museum, the Young Centre for Performing Arts and the Royal Conservatory TELUS Centre. KPMB has also contributed to projects across Canada including the Canadian Museum of Nature in Ottawa, Manitoba Hydro Place (LEED Platinum) in Winnipeg and the forthcoming Remai Modern Art Gallery of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon. KPMB is currently working on projects for Princeton University, Boston University, Northwestern University, the University of Pennsylvania, the Aga Khan Foundation of Canada and is part of the consortium to design and build the 2015 Pan American Games Athletes’ Village.
Page & Steele - Architects
The award winning firm Page+Steele was established in Toronto in 1926 and merged with IBI Group to form Page+Steele/IBIGroup Architects (P+S/IBI) in 2008. In recent years, P+S/IBI has become the pre-eminent Canadian firm engaged in the design of mixed-use developments, with the completion of some of the most prestigious residential and hotel projects across the country. A highly innovative design team complements the high level of service and technical expertise for which P+S/IBI is known, reflected in the more than 30 design awards received by the firm to date. P+S IBI has a proven record of creating landmark projects that withstand the test of time.
PUBLIC WORK
Public Work - Urban Design
PUBLIC WORK is an urban design and landscape architecture studio focused on one of the foremost public topics today—the intelligent evolution of the contemporary city. We aim to produce transformative works that invigorate the public realm, optimize and enhance the performance of urban and natural systems, and support public life by adding new layers of experience to the city. At the core of our practice is one question: How can every urban project—public or private—contribute to the quality of life and urban experience in the city.
APPENDIX 3: HEIGHTS: A JOINT VENTURE OF CONTEXT AND METROPIA
In a short period of time, Context has built a reputation for creating a consistently high caliber of buildings with distinct market appeal based on striking contemporary design. Context’s projects have consistently been awarded City of Toronto Urban Design Awards, and have been critically lauded as artful and efficient solutions to the urban design challenges of complex urban sites. All of Context’s projects have been well received by the market and have consistently appreciated in value while outperforming market norms due to their innovative suite lay-outs and unique appeal. Past projects include: the pioneering 20 Niagara, the new urbanism of Upper East Side townhouses, the adaptive re-use of a former George Brown College campus in Kensington Market Lofts, the innovative District Lofts, the contextual “main-street” Ideal Condominium, the mixed use MoZo condominium, the terraced luxury building Home on High Park, Radio City in conjunction with the National Ballet School of Canada, the renovation and sensitive addition to an iconic Toronto art deco building in Tip Top Lofts, the striking 45 storey Spire adjacent to St. James Cathedral, and the sensitive restoration of the Annex landmark The Loretto. Context has recently completed Market Wharf, a complex mixed use development south of St. Lawrence Market, and Library District Condominiums in the Railway Lands, overlooking historic Fort York.
Our communities offer a wide range of housing options with an emphasis on affordability and a responsibility to the environment.
Metropia’s founder, Howard Sokolowski, has a rich history in residential development. As cofounder and CEO of Tribute Communities for over 25 years, Howard led the development of more than 30,000 homes. One of the things Howard takes great pride in is working closely with the families and administrations that have a deep, vested interest in the outcome of the communities being developed. Under Howard’s leadership, Tribute won numerous community and development awards from J.D. Power, the Ontario Home Builders Association and Toronto’s Building Industry and Land Development Association (BILD) including Project of the Year, Community of the Year and Builder of the Year.
Partnering with Howard is Tony Moro, former President and CEO of Deltera/Tridel Builders. Tony brings with him over 35 years experience as Canada’s leading builder of condominium communities, during which time he developed over 40,000 condominium units. Under Tony’s leadership, Deltera/Tridel Builders won numerous awards. |
Eighteenth century techniques of classical improvisation on the violin: Pedagogy, practice and decline
Flavia Claudia Todea
Edith Cowan University
Follow this and additional works at: https://ro.ecu.edu.au/theses_hons
Part of the Music Performance Commons
Recommended Citation
This Thesis is posted at Research Online.
https://ro.ecu.edu.au/theses_hons/189
Edith Cowan University
Copyright Warning
You may print or download ONE copy of this document for the purpose of your own research or study.
The University does not authorize you to copy, communicate or otherwise make available electronically to any other person any copyright material contained on this site.
You are reminded of the following:
- Copyright owners are entitled to take legal action against persons who infringe their copyright.
- A reproduction of material that is protected by copyright may be a copyright infringement.
- A court may impose penalties and award damages in relation to offences and infringements relating to copyright material. Higher penalties may apply, and higher damages may be awarded, for offences and infringements involving the conversion of material into digital or electronic form.
Eighteenth Century Techniques of Classical Improvisation on the Violin: Pedagogy, Practice and Decline.
Flavia Claudia Todea
Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts
Edith Cowan University
This dissertation is submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Bachelor of Music Honours
2014
Copyright Declaration
I certify that this thesis does not, to the best of my knowledge and belief:
(i) incorporate without acknowledgment any material previously submitted for a degree or diploma in any institution of higher degree or diploma in any institution of higher education;
(ii) contain any material previously published or written by another person except where due reference is made in the text of this thesis;
(iii) contain any defamatory material;
(iv) contain any data that has not been collected in a manner consistent with ethics approval.
Signed: ___________________________ Date: ________________
This copy is the property of Edith Cowan University. However, the literary rights of the author must also be respected. If any passage from this thesis is quoted or closely paraphrased in a paper or written work prepared by the user, the source of the passage must be acknowledged in the work. If the user desires to publish a paper or written work containing passages copied or closely paraphrased from this thesis, which passages would in total constitute an infringing copy for the purpose of the Copyright Act, he or she must first obtain the written permission of the author to do so.
Abstract
The art of improvisation flourished in both instrumental and vocal music during the late seventeenth and throughout the eighteenth centuries. The violin techniques of improvisation taught in the eighteenth century (such as ornamentation of melody, decoration of fermatas, extemporization of cadenzas and creation of preludes) formed an integral part of instrumental pedagogy and performance practice at the time, which then declined significantly from the early nineteenth century onwards. It seems that this practice of improvisation has been neglected and its principles almost forgotten in the world of classical Western music today.
This paper makes an argument for the re-introduction of classical improvisation techniques into contemporary violin pedagogy. In order to do this, it firstly identifies what these techniques were, how they were taught, and how they were used at their peak, in the eighteenth century. Subsequently it accounts for the decline of improvisation at the turn of the nineteenth century, and justifies the importance and benefits of once again reviving this art-form.
Acknowledgements
Although many people have been instrumental in the completion of this dissertation, there is One in particular without Whom this paper would have been impossible – that is God. He has been with me faithfully and constantly at every step of this journey. It is to Him that I owe my deepest gratitude for His love, strength and guidance, and for the people that He has surrounded me with.
To Linda Barcan, thank you for giving your time, for sharing your expertise and for providing new perspectives when I found myself stuck. Thank you for being an encouragement and an inspiration. I am so fortunate to have had you as my supervisor.
To my family: thank you for your love, your support and your patience with me.
To the staff at the faculty, I am privileged to have studied under your instruction.
To my colleagues, thank you for keeping me on track.
# Contents
Copyright Declaration .................................................................................................................. 2
Abstract ........................................................................................................................................ 3
Acknowledgements ...................................................................................................................... 4
Index of Figures ........................................................................................................................... 6
Introduction .................................................................................................................................. 1
Chapter One. The Art of Improvisation on the Violin in the Eighteenth Century .......... 3
A word on the Treatises .............................................................................................................. 4
Chapter Two. Improvisation Techniques of the Eighteenth Century ......................... 8
The Techniques ......................................................................................................................... 8
Ornamentation of Melody ......................................................................................................... 9
Creation of Preludes .................................................................................................................. 14
Decoration of Fermatas and Extemporization of Cadenzas ......................................................... 14
Teaching and Application of Techniques .................................................................................. 15
Chapter Three. The Decline of Improvisation ................................................................. 20
Chapter Four. An Argument for the Re-Introduction of Improvisation into Contemporary Violin Pedagogy and Practice ................................................................. 26
Conclusion .................................................................................................................................. 30
Bibliography ............................................................................................................................... 32
Appendix ....................................................................................................................................... 35
Some of the most common ‘conventional stereotyped ornaments’ ............................... 35
Index of Figures
Figure 1 Part of an Adagio written by Tartini, taken from Cartier’s L’Art du Violon....... 12
Figure 2 *Adagio* from J.S. Bach’s Violin Sonata No. 1 in G minor ........................................ 13
Figure 3 *Mordente* ornament as shown in Geminiani’s violin treatise: *The Art of Playing on the Violin* (pg:26) .............................................................. 28
Introduction
“The spontaneous invention and shaping of music while it is being performed is as old as music itself.”¹ Yet this practice known as improvisation has been neglected and its principles almost forgotten in the world of classical Western music today. Derek Bailey goes so far as to say that “the world of classical music provides an unlikely setting for improvisation.” ² The art of improvisation flourished in both instrumental and vocal music during the late seventeenth and throughout the eighteenth centuries. This paper makes an argument for the re-introduction of classical improvisation techniques into contemporary violin pedagogy and performance. In order to do this, it firstly identifies what these techniques were, how they were taught and how they were practiced at their peak, in the eighteenth century. Subsequently it accounts for the decline of improvisation at the turn of the century, and reasons the importance and benefits of reviving improvisation in pedagogy and performance of contemporary classical violinists.
The greatest justification for this paper is expressed by Brockmann who, after years of experimenting in the area of improvisation, noted amongst many classical musicians the misguided belief that “improvisation seems to belong firmly to the realm of jazz.”³ But historical analysis shows that in fact “it is only within the last century or two that improvisation has faded from the classical arena.”⁴
⁴Ibid.
During the eighteenth century, in classical instrumental pedagogy, learning to improvise went hand in hand with learning to read music, and the art of improvisation was an important part of performance practice. As Karen Michelle Bergmann states in her research: “Improvisation has always been an important skill ... hundreds of years ago, prior to the appearance of the violin in its current form, players improvised cadenzas and ornamentation.” Yet, as Caroline Mia Lee observes, it seems that today “improvisation has become a lost art among string players.”
Another defence for this paper is that a paucity of both teaching resources and qualified teachers make learning to improvise difficult. The lack of secondary sources that Lee mentions validates the need for further exploration of this topic.
---
5 Karen Michelle Bergmann, "A Guide to Pedagogical Resources for Improvisation on Violin, Viola, Cello, and Bass" (The University of Georgia 2012), 1.
7 Ibid.
Chapter One
The Art of Improvisation on the Violin in the Eighteenth Century
During the course of the seventeenth century, the violin gained popularity in instrumental music, taking over from the gamba and the viol which had both been celebrated improvisation instruments. At this time many pedagogues began writing treatises in order to provide instructions on performance practice. Amidst these performance instructions, there are also guidelines on how, when and why one should improvise. From his examination of these treatises, Professor Robin Stowell gathered that “free improvisation by the performer, [was] practised for the most part by the Italian school” and took place in the form of “melodic ornamentation, cadenzas, preludes, or…independent extemporization.”
Although the roots of improvisation in Western music date back to the medieval era, improvisation on the violin flourished during the Baroque and Classical period. At first it was used as a means of ornamenting and creating variation on the melody, its task being “to adorn, decorate, and season.” Later, improvisation became a display of intellectual and technical ability in performance through the formation of preludes. However improvisation found its peak in the
---
8 Ferand, "Improvisation in Nine Centuries of Western Music", 15-16.
As well as an accomplished violinist, Robin Stowell is an expert in the field of performance practice. His contributions to this topic include the co-editing of the Cambridge Handbooks to the Historical Performance of Music, and acting as a member of both the Advisory Committee for the publication of the Complete Works of Francesco Geminiani. He participated as co-investigator in a collaborative AHRC-funded project ‘Nineteenth- and early twentieth-century annotated editions of string music: bibliographical problems, editorial content and implications for performance practice’. He continues to contribute to modules in organology, notation and editing, performance practice and ensemble performance for the undergraduate curriculum.
11 Ferand, "Improvisation in Nine Centuries of Western Music", 18.
cadenzas of the instrumental concertos from the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The eighteenth century encompasses elements from both Baroque and Classical styles of interpretation.
During the Baroque era, improvisation was employed through the ornamentation of melody and the embellishment of fermatas and cadences. These embellishments expanded until they became an entire cadenza and this practice continued into the Classical era. While the making of cadenzas flourished in concerto performances, the art of extemporizing preludes prospered in solo performances.
Amateurs and more experienced students obtained these improvisation techniques from their teachers, but since there was only one Giuseppe Tartini, one Leopold Mozart, one Francesco Galeazzi, many of these professionals took it upon themselves to write out treatises and methods which taught and explained these same techniques. Along with these, students were also encouraged to “listen to other virtuosi [in order] to build fine style” and to learn how to incorporate the embellishments into their own playing.
A word on the Treatises
The large number of instrumental treatises available from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries makes it impossible for one to cover their entire content in the course of a year, therefore, for the purpose of this dissertation, and at the recommendation of senior advisors, I have studied more closely the following treatises:
12 Brockmann, From Sight to Sound, 4.
13 Angelo Frascarelli, ”Elementi Teorico-Practici Di Musica’ by Francesco Galeazzi: An Annotated English Translation and Study of Volume I’ (Ph.D., The University of Rochester, Eastman School of Music, 1968), 41. [my brackets]
The Art of Playing on the Violin (1751) Francesco Saverio Geminiani (1687 – 1762)
This is one of the earliest violin treatises to “expand the advanced techniques of the professional violinist”\(^\text{14}\), which Geminiani had learnt from his teacher, the famous Arcangelo Corelli (1653 – 1713). Amongst these techniques, it also identifies fourteen ‘Ornaments of Expression’ and provides an explanation to “comprehend the Nature of each Element in particular.”\(^\text{15}\)
On playing the flute (1985) (first printed in German in 1752) Johann Joachim Quantz (1697 – 1773)
This treatise is widely regarded as being one of the best examples of studies dealing with ornamentation in eighteenth century.\(^\text{16}\) Although it was written specifically for flute, it can also be used by other instrumentalists. To the advantage of the violinist, there is an entire section dedicated to the duties of the accompanying violinist. Of all the treatises that I have so far encountered from this time, I have found this one to be the most detailed. Edward Reilly affirms in the Introduction that “subjects such as extempore embellishments, dynamics, cadenzas, and tempo are explored more fully than in any other treatise of the time.”\(^\text{17}\)
A Treatise on the Fundamental Principles of Violin Playing (1985) (first printed in German in 1756)
Leopold Mozart (1719 – 1787)
Leopold Mozart’s treatise continues to be a very useful pedagogical tool in violin performance even today. It begins with the most basic steps in violin practice and musicianship (i.e. how to hold the violin and bow and how to read music notation), and continues with the more difficult skills of technical execution. Similar to the other violin treatises, it explains many varieties
\(^{14}\) Ibid, 27.
of bowings, and particularly for this dissertation, it defines and illustrates various ornaments and improvised embellishments.
This treatise was written in particular for the keyboard, but its rules of composition, harmony and performance can be applied to other instruments as well. Its content covers embellishments, performance, thorough bass, accompaniment, and improvisation, with the first and last of these, being especially useful for this treatise.
*L’Art du Violon ou Collection choisie dans les Sonates des Ecoles Itallienne; Françoise et Allemande, Précédée d’un abrégé de principes pour cet Instrument* (1798) Jean-Baptiste Cartier (1765 – 1841)
[The Art of the Violin, or Collected Works Chosen from the Sonatas of the Italian, French and German Schools, Preceded by a Summary of Principles for this Instrument]
As the title suggests, Cartier’s treatise is firstly a compendium of principles specific to the violin (technique, bowing, embellishments, terminology, scales and double stops) and secondly, a collection of Italian, French and German works, which demonstrate these principles. This treatise is useful as it brings together, in one place, the principles of violin performance outlined in prior treatises (such as those of Mozart and Tartini). While other methods are generally specific to one musical style, the benefit of this one is that it provides examples from the three different national styles, allowing the reader to observe the differences between these.
*Elementi Teorico-Pratici Di Musica* (1817) Francesco Galeazzi (1758 – 1819)
Galeazzi received much of his musical education in the Italian style. His treatise is a comprehensive account of violin performance and pedagogy in the eighteenth century, which
contains detailed explanations of violin technique and pedagogical procedures. Particularly useful to this dissertation, is Galeazzi’s clear descriptions of various ornaments.
_The Art of the Violin (1991)_ (first printed in French in 1834) Pierre Marie François de Sales Baillot (1771 – 1842)
_The Art of the Violin_ is one of the later violin treatises and is used here almost as a secondary source. Its contextual information is a reflection of the prevailing attitudes amongst violin students and teachers in the eighteenth century. Unlike the other treatises, Baillot’s treatise also includes a section on the creation of preludes, specific to the violinist.
---
18 Frascarelli, “‘Elementi Teorico-Practici Di Musica’: An Annotated English Translation and Study”, iii.
Chapter Two
Improvisation Techniques of the Eighteenth Century
The Techniques
While the pianist can cover the greatest sum of notes through the use of both hands, and the singer can use the inflections of the voice like no other instrument, the violinist’s unique gift is their bow. Without this, all the brilliance of a solid left hand technique is of little use. Thus, it comes as no surprise that all of the violin treatises mentioned above provide clear instruction as to the manner in which the bow should be used. Through the bow stroke, “the notes receive their life, the Piano and Forte are expressed, the passions are aroused, and the melancholy is distinguished from the gay, the serious from the jocular, the sublime from the flattering, the modest from the bold.” Since the bow stroke can create such a wide range of articulations and express so many varied emotions, the use of the bow is an improvisation technique in its own right, whereby the performer is able to instinctively select the most suitable stroke “in order to give melodies or passages their proper character.” This technique is explained in terms of its divisions (location in the bow), its stroke (for example: staccato, martelé, spiccato, legato, bariolage) and its tone (crescendi, diminuendi, swells, speed and pressure).
It is with this in mind that we turn to the left hand and examine its improvisatory techniques through ornamentation, embellishing of fermatas and creation of preludes and cadenzas.
---
Ornamentation of Melody
By definition, these are embellishments added to the melody with the objective of enhancing expression. This category can be divided into two groups: the first covers the spontaneous melodic figures used to embellish an existing melody (also called ‘arbitrary ornaments’ or ‘extempore variations’), while the second comprises improvisation on the melody with “conventional stereotyped ornaments” (also called: ‘essential ornaments’). These conventional ornaments, termed agréments, include embellishments such as trills, mordents and appoggiaturas which were indicated through various signs in the music. Aside from agréments, there were also ‘embellishments more closely associated with free [improvised] ornamentation’, known as ornements. Some examples of these are the conduimento (meaning: to lead) where a part-scale run, beginning at a distance of a fifth or sixth proceeds the main note either ascending or descending. There is also the volata, (meaning: fly) where an entire scale of one or two octaves proceeds the main note as a rapid run to the top note. Both these examples are mentioned by Leopold Mozart and Francesco Galeazzi in their treatises. In the case of the former ornaments (the arbitrary ones), the performer’s role was to spontaneously construct them. In the case of the latter ornaments, the performer’s role was to firstly decode the signs, and then to give an improvisatory interpretation in terms of expression and rhythm, by shortening or extending note values and melodic figures, by breaking down multiple stops into arpeggios and through variations on articulation, phrasing and bowing. For the amateur
24 Ibid, 336. [my brackets]
26 Ibid, 225.
violinist, embellishments were often provided in small print by professionals, while works for virtuosi were written in a ‘bare’ format, leaving it up to the performer to elaborate.28
Stylistic differences existed across Europe, particularly between the French, the Italian and the German schools of ornamentation. By the middle of the eighteenth century, the French practise was to notate all ornaments into the music, leaving very little up to the performer. On the other hand, the Italian works were written in a ‘skeletal outline’, expecting that the performer would improvise around this with a mixture of essential and arbitrary ornaments.29 The Adagio of Giuseppe Tartini (1692 - 1770), provided in Cartier’s treatise, shows just how bare this skeletal outline was, in comparison to the elaborated performance (see Figure 1). As Quantz mentions, the French style was “modest … neat … easy to imitate … comprehensible … convenient for amateurs … [and did] not require much knowledge of harmony.”30 The Italian was “extravagant … bold and bizarre, and difficult in execution … [It] permits many additions of graces [or embellishments] and requires a seemly knowledge of harmony.”31 The German style also notated embellishments in full, but used them selectively, for the purpose of expression.32 To illustrate this, there is the well-known Adagio movement from Johann Sebastian Bach’s (1685 - 1750) first solo violin sonata in G minor which leaves no room for additional extemporization, but requires an improvisatory character in interpretation (see Figure 2). In following Bach’s example, Haydn and Mozart also notated melodies in full, allowing for just an ‘improvisatory style’, where the performer had some freedom with
29 Stowell, Violin Technique and Performance Practice, 340
30 Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 335 [my brackets]
31 Ibid. [my brackets]
regard to nuances, fingerings, bowings and musical character, and occasionally the liberty to improvise on the reprise.\textsuperscript{33}
Although these national differences existed across Europe, one consistency across all regions was the location of embellishments in music. These were most fruitful in repeated sections and slow movements\textsuperscript{34} which provided them with the necessary time and space. In fact, it was said that “a true musician may distinguish himself by the manner in which he plays the Adagio.”\textsuperscript{35} It was this movement that really proved a performer’s worth and status.
\textsuperscript{33} Stowell, \textit{Violin Technique and Performance Practice}, 338, 348.
\textsuperscript{34} Stowell, \textit{Violin Technique and Performance Practice}, 340.
\textsuperscript{35} Quantz, \textit{On Playing the Flute}, 162
Part of an *Adagio* written by Tartini. The top line depicts what was written by the composer, while the second line is the basso continuo part. All subsequent lines represent the florid embellishments which were customarily added in performance.
**ADAGIO de M' TARTINI.** Varie de plusieurs façons différentes, très utiles aux personnes qui veulent apprendre à faire des traits sous chaque note de l'Harmonie. On pourra remplir les lacunes qui se trouvent dans les variations par une des lignes au dessus et au dessous et par des traits arbitraires.
[Adagio by Mr Tartini. Varied in several different ways, very useful to persons wanting to learn to ornament every note of the harmony. One will be able to fill the gaps found in the variations with one of the lines above and below and with arbitrary ornaments.]
Figure 2 Adagio from J.S. Bach’s Violin Sonata No. 1 in G minor
The opening of the \textit{Adagio} from J.S. Bach’s first violin sonata, showing that all embellishments have been notated in full (either through notes or signs such as the trill). The performer’s freedom is limited to the interpretation (nuances, tempo, fingerings and bowings).
Creation of Preludes
Initially, the prelude and the fantasy were not incorporated into sections of other movements or works, but rather stood as movements in their own right. To differentiate between the two, Stowell defines the prelude as a “short improvisation played immediately before a formal performance”, which has the purpose of establishing for the listener the tonality and mood of the piece to come. The fantasy (or ‘improvised prelude’) on the other hand is concerned only with showcasing the ability of the performer. As Baillot states; “it is free in its pace [movement], in its forms, in its length.” However, the fantasy was chiefly a practice of keyboard instruments. The violin player was mainly concerned with the preludes which they learnt primarily through studying the written examples provided in violin treatises. From these examples we can conclude that, under violinists such as Corelli and Geminiani, the prelude maintained an introductory role, which changed as the era progressed. With composers such as J.S. Bach, the prelude expanded from being a short introduction, to becoming a movement of equal importance to the other movements in a work. The primary reason for this was the increase in the composition of preludes and decrease in their improvisation.
Decoration of Fermatas and Extemporization of Cadenzas
The improvisation of cadenzas constitutes another segment in this field of study which was arguably the largest improvisation platform for a violinist in the eighteenth century. In its miniature version, it is known as a ‘fermata’ which would appear in the middle or end of a slow movement, and at significant cadence points, with the intention of unexpectedly drawing the attention of the
36 Stowell, Violin Technique and Performance Practice, 354.
38 Stowell, Violin Technique and Performance Practice, 354.
Aside from length, the main difference between the fermata and cadenza was that the former could only be embellished with notes belonging to the chord sustained in the bass part while the latter was not bound by any sustained chords. The extemporization of cadenzas became famous amongst the Italians around the 1700s and was then imitated by the Germans, but the French preferred to avoid it. As Quantz skilfully describes, its role was “to surprise the listener unexpectedly once more at the end of the piece, and to leave behind a special impression in his heart.” While many different instructions are provided for creating a cadenza, one that I found particularly remarkable was that the “embellishments should not exceed the instrumental range observed by the composer.” In other words, out of respect for what the composer had already created, the performers should not try and out-do the composer, but should humbly contain themselves within the perimeters provided. Could we then assume that the lack of attention paid to this instruction by performers may have been one of the factors which prompted composers to write out the cadenzas themselves? As the era progressed, performers began turning the cadenza, which had been intended as a means of creating “tasteful expression”, into something that focused on a virtuosic display of technique.
Teaching and Application of Techniques
Across all forms of improvisation, the highest recommendation for learning these techniques was to have first-hand experience (i.e. from teacher to pupil). Additionally, each type of
---
39 Bach, Essay on the True Art of Playing Keyboard Instruments, 143. At the conclusion of chapter two, Bach’s treatise provide examples of possible embellishments of fermatas for students to study and imitate. 144 - 145
40 Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 194.
41 Ibid, 179.
42 Ibid, 180.
43 Brown, Performance Practice Music after 1600, 2, 279.
44 Stowell, Violin Technique and Performance Practice, 358.
Improvisation also required a varying degree of knowledge in musicianship. While on the one hand the French style of ornamentation could be executed without an in-depth understanding of harmony, on the other hand, the Italian style could only be properly executed once the student had acquired a well-grounded understanding of composition and harmony. As a result, improvisation through ornamentation began with solid instruction in musicianship (harmony, composition and through-bass), where students also learned various ornament patterns which they would apply in different keys. While applying these skills, the performer had to keep in mind that the objective of variations was to “make music pleasing and awaken our close attention”, to enhance the expressions in a piece and improve the composition. For this purpose, the variation should not obscure the melody, the mood of the ornaments should correspond to that of the melody, and if a theme is repeated, the variations should be different on the repeat.
With specific regards to the violinist, Galeazzi’s treatise advises that, only after establishing a firm right and left hand technique (with familiarity of the first, second and third positions), should students start learning ornamentation through the study of works such as Arcangelo Corelli’s Opus 5, which also provide examples of improvisation. Apart from studying their works, teachers also “encouraged… students to listen to performances by the great masters,” to learn improvisation by watching and listening to professionals perform, by imitating their examples and then continuing to pass on the skills learnt. A final factor which was not a necessity, but contributed to the
---
45 Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 163.
46 Ibid, 139.
Quantz voices a clear warning that “without an understanding of composition, success is impossible.”
47 Stowell, Violin Technique and Performance Practice, 338.
These principles are the common guidelines provided in many treatises and also summed up in Stowell’s book.
49 Stowell, Violin Technique and Performance Practice, 337.
50 Ibid.
development of the ability to play and improvise, was to receive an early education in music.
Although it is not an aspect specified in the treatises, Robin Moore justifies this below:
Virtually every well known improviser of ... Western classical music prior to the mid nineteenth century, began performing at an early age or was heavily exposed to music as a child. Typically, such musicians receive initial training in the home, through a relative or friend of the family ... Leopold [Mozart] acquired the majority of his musical education at an early age from performance and formal instruction in church groups. His son's musical education began even earlier...Not only was his older sister practicing the keyboard constantly in their small flat, but his father frequently met with other musicians there. Leopold gave violin and keyboard lessons at home.52
Accounts such as Charles Burney’s journal The Present State of Music in France and Italy bring to light the violin performers of the time and describe how improvisation was put into practice. Of Joachim Traversa we read that he “played a concerto in the Italian style very well: many parts with great delicacy, good tone, and facility of execution.”53 Alongside of him there were Gaetano Pugnani, Alexander Boucher, and the two rivals, Felice Giardini and Wilhelm Cramer, who both spent much of their time in England, where it was said that “Cramer’s playing was noted for its fire and conviction, while Giardini was famed for his beauty of tone and inventive embellishment.”54 Furthermore, an account from 1816 shows that improvisation was not limited to solo performances, but could also be used in ensemble where all parts, to a different degree, contributed to ornamenting.55 In this account Spohr criticizes an orchestral performance he had conducted in Rome, during which the players had ‘spoiled’ the performance with their unrestrained embellishments.
By the “Italian style” we assume Burney means the addition of embellishments and free improvisation as mentioned above.
55 Ferand, "Improvisation in Nine Centuries of Western Music", 14.
Spohr acknowledged that although he specifically prohibited the players from making any alterations to the printed music, ornamentation came as second nature to the Italians.\textsuperscript{56}
Similar to the variation on the melody, the creation of preludes required a solid knowledge of harmony and composition, and was learnt from teachers and written examples.\textsuperscript{57} In addition to this, a higher level of technical ability was expected of the performer. For the violinist, Baillot defines two types of preludes which both serve the role of preparation or introduction. The melodic prelude, consisting of several bars of graceful melody “tossed off brilliantly”, and the harmonic prelude, consisting of several bars of chords (broken or struck simultaneously). Before presenting a comprehensive set of examples for these forms of preludes, Baillot’s treatise affirms that: the violinist must only prelude when they have the leading part, the prelude should only occur before the first movement (and not in between other movements), and most importantly, the performer must take a moment of complete silence at the conclusion of the prelude.\textsuperscript{58}
Outside of this, there is little specific documentation for preluding on the violin in a non-introductory manner,\textsuperscript{59} but the principles provided by Bach in his treatise, later summarized by Nicholas Bochner, can be taken as reliable guidelines for violinists as well. Provided that the conditions of musicianship and technique are met, the ensuing steps are followed to create a prelude. Once the main key is established, a modulation to a related key occurs, followed by a chromatic modulation to a distant key. Subsequently there is a strong reinstatement of the main key through the use of the dominant pedal and lastly, the closing cadential section finishes the prelude.\textsuperscript{60}
\begin{flushleft}
\textsuperscript{56} “On the Rise and Progress of the Violin,” \textit{The Quarterly musical magazine and review} 3, no. 12 (1821).
\textsuperscript{57} Baillot, \textit{The Art of the Violin}, 329.
\textsuperscript{58} Ibid, 329-330.
\textsuperscript{59} Stowell, \textit{Violin Technique and Performance Practice}, 354.
\textsuperscript{60} Nicholas Bochner, "A Study of the Use of Improvisation in the Teaching of Classical Musicians," \textit{Resonate Magazine}, June 30 2010, 3.
\end{flushleft}
We come now to the decoration of fermatas and extemporization of cadenzas which were often grouped together in the eighteenth century, due to the difficulty of separating the extended decorated fermatas from the true cadenzas.\(^61\) Initially, there were only the principles of composition to provide guidance for creating a cadenza (for example, knowing how to resolve dissonances and intervals correctly, and knowing what harmonic progressions the cadenza should be built on),\(^62\) but as this skill developed, a standard format emerged. An energetic flourish or a theme from the movement would open the cadenza, followed by a reflective section, which could use other material from the movement. In the next part, technical virtuosity would be displayed through sequences and modulations, before the transition to the closing cadential trill on the dominant.\(^63\) Alongside this format, performers were also taught to keep the cadenza in the same mood as the rest of the piece, to keep away from too many repetitions of phrases, to abstain from unrelated modulations and, of course, to stay within their technical limitations. Students were encouraged to learn this form of improvisation aurally, by hearing “many able people [play]”\(^64\), and also by memorizing and imitating the written models left by pedagogues.\(^65\)
\(^{61}\) Stowell, *Violin Technique and Performance Practice*, 359.
\(^{63}\) Stowell, *Violin Technique and Performance Practice*, 359.
\(^{64}\) Quantz, *On Playing the Flute*, 181-184, 186.
\(^{65}\) Stowell, *Violin Technique and Performance Practice*, 359.
In its tenth chapter, the treatise of Leopold Mozart discusses in detail (with illustrated examples) the subject of trills in cadenzas advising the proper use of the short trill, the ‘preparatory’ trill, the slow, medium, rapid and accelerating trill and the long trill. Baillot’s treatise reserves twenty nine pages which explain ten types of cadenzas and provide written examples of each type for students to study and imitate.
Chapter Three
The Decline of Improvisation
In the eighteenth century, improvisation, through improvised embellishment of solo parts and later of cadenzas, continued to experience widespread popularity as it prospered in instrumental and even in vocal music.\textsuperscript{66} Concerts were filled with surprise, suspense and bravura, as audience and performers alike shared in the role of music making, through listening or actively participating.\textsuperscript{67}
Why is it then that at the turn of the century this art form, which was previously an essential part of musicianship in Western music, began to decline?\textsuperscript{68} The most acknowledged reason for this decline is the increase in notation of music (i.e. composers writing out the composition in full). This began with the changing relationship between composer and performer, leading composers to notate the embellishments and cadenzas which had been previously improvised (at first in part, and later in full).\textsuperscript{69} During the early stages of improvisation, the composer and performer were often the same person, and the way in which a piece was performed was deemed more important than the composition. Yet, in the eighteenth century, composer and performer became separate individuals.\textsuperscript{70}
\textsuperscript{66} Ferand, "Improvisation in Nine Centuries of Western Music", 14.
\textsuperscript{67}Guildhall School of Music and Drama, "Classical Improvisation & Creative Performance," Guildhall School, 2014, [accessed: November 04 2014]
http://www.gsmd.ac.uk/youth_adult_learning/music_summer_school/classical_improvisation创意_performance/.
\textsuperscript{68} Bailey, "Part Two; Baroque, Organ, Part Three; Rock, Audience", 29 – 30.
\textsuperscript{69} Brockmann, From Sight to Sound, 4.
\textsuperscript{70} Ferand, "Improvisation in Nine Centuries of Western Music", 5, 14.
Both David Dolan and Derek Bailey lament this decline, stating that today, improvisation in classical music is primarily limited to organ music where practical inventiveness is always required by its role in church services.
When the composer is the performer, they did not need to write down everything – a sketch was sufficient to jog their memory as to what their intentions were while at the same time allow for spontaneous creativity within the parameters of those intentions. The ‘composition’ served as a reminder of the intended mood, character or tempo.
This “divorcing of composition from performance”\textsuperscript{71}, as John Rink terms it, resulted in the composer’s role dominating the performer’s, since the music expressed the composer’s intentions, not the performer’s. The performer was therefore the servant of the music.
The effects of social change caused by industrialism in the nineteenth century, were also felt in the music scene where the old practice of patronage musicians gave way to the rise of conservatoire culture. These newly established conservatoires across Europe encouraged the growing popularity of technical virtuosity.\textsuperscript{72} As a result, the purpose of improvisation departed from its original intention of adding affect to the composition and improving it without obstructing or taking away from the melody,\textsuperscript{73} to such an extent that the excesses of ornamentation and the prolonged cadenzas often made the music unrecognizable. Such was the case with Gioachino Rossini (1792 – 1868) who, upon hearing a highly ornate interpretation of the famous aria from his opera “The Barber of Seville”, “Una voce poco fa”, remarked: “very nice, my dear, and who wrote the piece you have just performed?”\textsuperscript{74} These excesses became the highlight of performances and thus defeated the purpose of improvisation. Instead of the intended “musicianship and tasteful expression”,\textsuperscript{75} there was a rising “desire for brilliance and virtuosity over simplicity.”\textsuperscript{76}
These reasons provide a brief overview of the factors acknowledged today in literature and amongst musicians for the decline of improvisation. However, there remain some less or even unacknowledged factors which are worth noting. One of these was the decline of improvisation as resulting from a lack of “studying old music”\textsuperscript{77} (i.e. the great masters of composition and
\textsuperscript{71} Nettl Bruno et al., “Improvisation,” in Grove Music Online.
\textsuperscript{73} Stowell, Violin Technique and Performance Practice, 338.
\textsuperscript{75} Stowell, Violin Technique and Performance Practice, 358.
\textsuperscript{76} Bruno et al., “Improvisation.”
\textsuperscript{77} Baillot, The Art of the Violin, 287.
performance), which Baillot laments in his treatise. C.P.E. Bach also noted that beginners and amateurs wanted the satisfaction of improvising but “no longer [had] enough time and patience to practice especially assiduously.” It appears then, that students were no longer willing to commit to the practice and extensive study of old music, which was an essential part of learning improvisation. Due to the decrease in knowledge and skill in the teaching and practicing of improvisation, by the early nineteenth century Baillot reveals that it was an accepted truth that composers needed to define (in notation) the elements which were previously improvised.
In spite of improvisation being such a considerable part of violin pedagogy and performance in the eighteenth century, by the nineteenth century it was fading away. Robin Moore explains that due to the appearance of conservatory education and the change from the ‘patronage musician to the middle class performer’ (from professional instrumentalist to the everyday amateur), notated music became more important for pedagogy and performance. The middle classes were not only part of the growing concert audience, but they also had ready access to the notated music and treatises of the day. Although this allowed individuals to learn an instrument on their own, it meant that professional musicians became more cautious in their compositions. They began writing out all the ornamentations to eliminate the risk of those not skilled enough to interpret the score improvisationally.
The eighteenth century was a flourishing time for music treatises, since they provided a way for a teacher to reach the pupil without actually being present. As we would expect, one of the topics frequently discussed in the treatises was that of embellishing and creating cadenzas. As I reflect on my findings, I find it peculiar that while today we long for performances which embrace authentic
---
78 Ferand, "Improvisation in Nine Centuries of Western Music", 20.
80 Moore, "The Decline of Improvisation in Western Art Music", 71-72.
improvisation in this style of the eighteenth century, during the eighteenth century itself, when this art of improvisation was practiced, performers were frequently warned against excessive improvisation. Many pedagogues stated that it would be better not to make any arbitrary contributions, than to make them too frequently, in the wrong manner, or at the wrong time. While the treatises provided many examples and clear explanations to be studied, in one way or another, most (if not all) pedagogues warned against excesses and the improper use of ornamentation.
It is supposed by many that a real good taste cannot possibly be acquired by any rules of art; it being a peculiar gift of nature, indulged only to those who have naturally a good ear: and as most flatter themselves to have this perfection, hence it happens that he who sings or plays, thinks of nothing so much as to make continually some favourite passages or graces, believing that by this means he shall be thought to be a good performer, not perceiving that playing in good taste doth not consist of frequent passages, but in expressing with strength and delicacy the intention of the composer.\textsuperscript{81}
An ornament introduced at the wrong time or badly performed spoils the finest phrases and shows the player’s bad taste … The imagination invents \textit{ornemens}, while good taste concerns itself with their variety … Taste allows them, selects them and must often exclude them…they must above all be used only at suitable moments.\textsuperscript{82}
A well-written melody, which is already sufficiently pleasing in itself, must never be varied, unless you believe it can be improved.\textsuperscript{83}
The prelude and the cadenza … must concern themselves with responding appropriately to its call, for once the artist has undertaken them, they become for him one more hidden danger or one more cause for triumph; if he has the misfortune not to succeed, others are less indulgent since they know that he could have avoided taking the chance in the first place.\textsuperscript{84}
I propose then that these constant warnings may have also contributed to the decline of improvisation because the amateurs and students who read the treatises became reluctant to attempt ornamentation (let alone preludes or cadenzas) for fear of misuse and misinterpretation.
\textsuperscript{81} Geminiani, \textit{The Art of Playing on the Violin}, 6.
\textsuperscript{82} Stowell, \textit{Violin Technique and Performance Practice}, 347-348.
\textsuperscript{83} Quantz, \textit{On Playing the Flute}, 139.
\textsuperscript{84} Baillot, \textit{The Art of the Violin}, 331.
Robin Moore posits an interesting concept of improvisation as a language, which is in essence only understood by those who study and implement it. The rise of a dramatic style in music called for more dramatic melodic expression, where the instrument must imitate the precise articulations of voice and speech. For this purpose, composers turned to signs and notation in order to indicate every inflection and expression. This practice led to a broadening of the musical audience which affected improvisation because they spoke different musical languages; some more musically versed in the vocabulary of improvisation than others. The language of improvisation excluded those who did not understand it, therefore it became notated so that clear conventions, forms and structures could be followed and understood. The downfall of this was that while notated music still carried charm and dramatic effect, it lost its expressiveness and spontaneity.
In keeping with the idea of music as language, Bill Dobbins constructs an interesting analogy of improvisation: just as the ability to learn and speak a language grows from stage to stage, so does the ability to learn and play music. In speaking we learn firstly to distinguish words and phrases, and secondly, through imitation and basic reading, we acquire an elementary vocabulary. Thirdly, we grow in our reading ability and thus we expand our vocabulary and begin to apply it in conversation. Lastly, language becomes an instinctive, spontaneous and subconscious process of thought, feeling and physical movement. In music, through our aural exposure, we learn first to distinguish common melodic and rhythmic patterns. Secondly, we gain the ability to imitate what we hear, and the basic skills of notation and music reading. The third level is to take the learnt principles of composition and performance and apply them to our own performance. Finally, from
---
85 Moore, "The Decline of Improvisation in Western Art Music", 63-66.
86 Baillot, The Art of the Violin, 287.
87 Baillot, The Art of the Violin, 287.
this emerges the capacity to subconsciously and spontaneously create the music – in other words: improvisation. Unfortunately, I must agree with Dobbins that:
music education too often ends when this second stage has reached an advanced level of development, where the student can read, memorize, or otherwise re-create music of considerable technical difficulty. Reading music … is of little ultimate creative value if it does not lead to a capacity for spontaneous musical expression.88
Galeazzi himself implies that improvisation is not for the novice instrumentalist, in fact his treatise suggests that only from the fourth year of study onwards would “compositions of the most excellent composers…counterpoint [and] sight-reading develop a talented student beyond a “mere instrumentalist”,”89 with the latter two skills being “especially helpful in improvisation and ornamentation.”90 Yet, this should not hinder the student from reaching this stage, but perhaps serve to remind them that the other levels must be attained beforehand.
90 Ibid, 41.
Chapter Four
An Argument for the Re-Introduction of Improvisation into Contemporary Violin Pedagogy and Practice
The re-introduction of classical improvisatory techniques of the eighteenth century into contemporary instrumental pedagogy and practice is not only beneficial but also important, as improvisation provides a unique way of understanding music which cannot be assimilated through other means.\textsuperscript{91}
The benefits of improvisation can be seen in its impact on both the musicianship and the technique of the performer. As a result of the lack of importance given to improvisation\textsuperscript{92} when studying performance practice, musical styles such as the Classical and the Baroque are “poorly understood by young musicians. [Improvisation] provides a unique and valuable technique for examining, and properly understanding, the features of a musical style.”\textsuperscript{93} It then follows that the re-introduction of this unique technique (namely, improvisation) would develop a clearer musical comprehension of style and genre in performers. Evidence of this has already emerged from Dr. David Dolan’s course at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama (Interpretation through Improvisation), where all classical students must study improvisation for two years. Dolan encourages improvisation as it requires a much higher level of active listening and involvement from the musician, and it also develops their “ability to make creative use of knowledge in real time.”\textsuperscript{94} Critic Greg Sandow observed these effects while visiting one of Dolan’s improvisation classes, where students were learning to listen and play simultaneously (playing in response to what
\textsuperscript{91} Lee Higgins and Roger Mantle, "Improvisation as Ability, Culture, and Experience," \textit{Music Educators Journal} 100, no. 2 (2013), 38.
\textsuperscript{92} David Beckstead, "Improvisation: Thinking and Playing Music", 69.
\textsuperscript{93} Bochner, "A Study of the Use of Improvisation in the Teaching of Classical Musicians", 2. [my brackets]
they heard). This course at the Guildhall School has shown that teaching and practicing improvisation develops a greater harmonic awareness and a deeper understanding of style and structure which results in a more historically authentic performance.
Furthermore, evidence of the effectiveness of improvisation in the past is found in the remarks which compare J.S. Bach’s organ compositions with his improvisations. The former are undeniably “full of expression and devotion, solemnity, and dignity” however “his unpremeditated organ playing... is said to have been still more devout, solemn, dignified, and sublime.” It follows then, that improvisation where “nothing [is] lost in the process of writing down but everything [comes] directly to life out of [the] imagination”, results in a more emotive and expressive performance.
In terms of technical benefits, I propose that improvisation would have a positive impact on developing the abilities of the violinist in the areas of execution (whereby the student is able to play at higher degrees of difficulty), agility (whereby the student is able to think and react quickly) and expression (whereby the student is able to respond with greater sensitivity to music). Thinking back
---
Greg Sandow reports the following:
I was invited to watch some improvisation classes, and was fascinated by what I saw... I watched a viola student improvise with a faculty pianist, David Dolan, who’s the principal improvisation teacher. This was fairly simple stuff — the violist played long notes, following the harmony David improvised. At one point, David asked the violist to listen to the piano, and tap whenever he heard a change in harmony. The violist couldn’t do it! So David suggested he put down his instrument. And then the violist had no trouble hearing. Seemed to me that holding the instrument actually got in the way of this musician’s listening! … when he held his viola, he expected to be reading music from his music stand. Listening, evidently, became a separate activity, as he more or less unconsciously encountered music.
Dr. David Dolan is an experienced pedagogue in the area of classical improvisation, and the Head of the Centre for Creative Performance and Classical Improvisation at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. In addition to this, he is an accomplished concert pianist who incorporates classical improvisation in his concerts through improvising cadenzas and extemporizing fantasies.
97 Ferand, "Improvisation in Nine Centuries of Western Music", 20.
98 Ibid. [my brackets]
on Dobbin’s concept of improvisation as a higher level in musical language, it follows that to embellish improvisationally is more difficult than to execute what is notated, because the performer must have a memory bank filled with techniques always ready to be used. Hypothetically, the violinist would firstly become familiar with the art of ornamenting, and of embellishing cadences, and thus develop their ability to execute them with greater ease even in notated music. For example, if one can execute a trill, a turn, or an arpeggiated run spontaneously, then, in notated music (where the player is aware of what is coming next and has time to prepare it) these skills become much easier. Secondly, through continual practice and experience, the violin player increases their agility and trains their ear to sensitivity, as they begin to recognize which techniques serve the purpose of expression best, and where. For instance, by experimenting with a mordente (see Figure 3) in different contexts (a slow or fast movement; a minor or major section; a particular time signature or a specific mood), the violinist becomes aware that it cannot be played in the same manner in all contexts. As Geminiani explains in his treatise: “if it be perform’d with strength, and continued long, it expresses fury, anger, resolution, etc. If it be play’d less strong and shorter, it expresses mirth, satisfaction, etc. But if you play if quite soft, and swell the note, it may then denote horror, fear, grief, lamentation, etc. By making it short and swelling the note gently, it may express affection and pleasure.” If such a wide palate of emotions is possible from a single ornament, are we then not missing out on so much more through our seeming indifference towards improvisation?
Figure 3 Mordente ornament as shown in Geminiani’s violin treatise: The Art of Playing on the Violin (pg:26)
---
The growing interest in this field, amongst classical musicians and scholars\(^\text{100}\) is a good indication that the re-introduction of improvisation techniques into violin pedagogy and practice would be well received. Progress in this regard has already begun at an academic level in places such as, the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London which has created the Centre for Classical Improvisation and Creative Performance\(^\text{101}\) and the Australian National Academy of Music were Professor David Dolan runs a course on classical improvisation applied to performance.\(^\text{102}\) Outside of these, there are also individuals who are involved in bringing back this artform: violinist Rupert Guenther,\(^\text{103}\) cellist Nicholas Bocher and pianist Robert Levin. The growing interest, combined with the progress already made and the success recorded,\(^\text{104}\) serve as landmarks which may pave the way to the re-introduction of improvisation techniques into classical violin pedagogy and practice. However, in order to measure and determine the success of such an endeavour, I would propose further investigation through a longitudinal study using student subjects, whereby the eighteenth century techniques of classical improvisation on the violin would be taught over a period of time and observations would be made as to their impact on the student’s technique and musicianship. This could form the basis of a Masters or PhD dissertation.
\(^\text{102}\) Guildhall School of Music and Drama, “David Dolan Bmusic Ma PhD”.
\(^\text{103}\) Bochner, “A Study of the Use of Improvisation in the Teaching of Classical Musicians”, 11.
\(^\text{104}\) Students, scholars and performers have given their approval of the improvisation program devised at Guildhall School in London and also implemented in Australia. Past graduates such as Patrick Leresche acknowledge their participation in the program, Nicholas Bocher (another graduate of the program) was awarded a Churchill Fellowship to further his studies of improvisation in pedagogy, in order to then implement the skills learnt in his position as a teacher and performer.
Conclusion
Every … study that confines itself exclusively to the practical and theoretical sources that have come down to us in writing or print, without taking into account the improvisational element in living musical practice, must of necessity present an incomplete, indeed a distorted picture. For there is scarcely a single field in music that has remained unaffected by improvisation, scarcely a musical technique or form of composition that did not originate in improvisatory performance or was not essentially influenced by it.\textsuperscript{105}
Ernst Ferand, a foremost scholar in the area of improvisation, reminds us that it has been an integral part of instrumental pedagogy and performance practice, in spite of its diminution from the classical arena over the past two centuries. This art of improvisation was passed down from teacher to pupil and taught visually, through the close study of written examples, and audibly, through the listening and imitating of skilled performers. Yet, in spite of its popularity in the eighteenth century, improvisation began to decline in the nineteenth century due to an increase in the notation of music. This increase in notation resulted from the separation of the composer’s and performer’s roles, from the rise of conservatoire education and from the changing purpose of improvisation. Initially, improvisation was a means of gracefully adding affect without obscuring the melody. However, as it developed, it became a show of technical brilliance.
Aside from these accepted explanations for the decline, there are also some factors which are less known. These include the decrease in knowledge and skills due to deficiencies in the study and teaching of improvisation, and the broadening of the music audience that made improvisation a foreign language to some. Furthermore, I suggest that another possible reason for this decline were the frequent warnings of pedagogues against excessive ornamentation, which could have made musicians hesitant about improvising. Or, perhaps the rise in printed and notated music caused
\textsuperscript{105}Ferand, "Improvisation in Nine Centuries of Western Music", 5.
instrumentalists to become complacent and take the easy route of reading music, rather than go further into creatively, and freely inventing music.
In response to this decline, this paper has made an argument for the re-introduction of classical improvisation techniques into contemporary violin pedagogy by highlighting their importance and benefits. The effectiveness of improvisation in the past is found in the technical and emotional freedom experienced by the performers who practiced it, while the significance of improvisation in the present continues to be demonstrated in the deeper understanding of music that it provides. Thus I put forward that should these techniques once again became part of the tuition of classical violinists, they would produce a freer performer, armed with greater musical and technical abilities, in execution, in agility and in expressiveness.
106 Ferand, "Improvisation in Nine Centuries of Western Music", 20.
Bibliography
http://www.artsjournal.com/sandow/2011/05/london_revelations_2.html.
University, Cardiff. "Professor Robin Stowell." *Cardiff University School of Music*. June 10 2014.
http://www.cardiff.ac.uk/music/contactsandpeople/profiles/stowell.html.
Appendix
Some of the most common ‘conventional stereotyped ornaments’
(Quantz refers to them in his treatise as: ‘arbitrary’ and ‘essential’, while in the French school they were known as *ornements* and *agréments du chant*.)
For the compilation of this Appendix I have consulted the following sources: Geminiani (p.6 – 8, 26); Quantz (chapters 8 and 9, p.91 – 108); Galeazzi (several passages); Leopold Mozart (chapters 9 and 10); Cartier (p.4 – 7); Baillot (chapter 10, p.121 – 144); Stowell (chapter 13, p.308 – 336).
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Technique</th>
<th>Illustration</th>
<th>Comments</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Appoggiatura</td>
<td></td>
<td>Variations of this include the: light appoggiatura (a third below the main note), a double appoggiatura, rhythmic appoggiatura (executed faster than the melodic one), anticipation and separassione (used as variations on the melody to add grace without obscuring the melody).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Port de Voix</td>
<td></td>
<td>Where there is a skip between two notes, the first is shortened and the second anticipated in order to create tender expression. However, any glissandi must be avoided.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Trill</td>
<td></td>
<td>The player should decide on: The preparation (start the trill on the note indicated, the note above or the note below), the oscillation (number of oscillations), and the ending (preparing the next note by ending the trill on it).</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>The Brise or Mordent</td>
<td></td>
<td>The Brise is a trill without an ending.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Double Trill</td>
<td></td>
<td>Alternation of two adjacent notes, in double stops.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Closed trill</td>
<td></td>
<td>A trill ‘closed’ between a double stop. For all trills, in the Allegro they should be brilliant in character while in the Adagio the trills must be gentle and smooth.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Turn</td>
<td></td>
<td>Generally consists of three or four notes in a minor or diminished third. The turn Creates a pleasing effect and add charm. In faster tempi, the turn is executed quicker to mark the rhythm.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table> |
Designing for Experience: An Approach to Human-centered I
Jodi L. Forlizzi
Designing for Experience: An Approach to Human-centered I
Jodi L. Forlizzi
Submitted to the Department of Design, College of Fine Arts, Carnegie Mellon University, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Design in Interaction Design
May 1997
Designing for Experience:
An Approach to Human-centered Design
Jodi L. Forlizzi
Submitted to the Department of Design,
College of Fine Arts, Carnegie Mellon University,
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
Master of Design in Interaction Design
Abstract
My thesis attempts to understand experience as it is relevant to interaction design. Based on the work of John Dewey, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, and Richard Carlson, I identify two types of experience in user–product interactions: satisfying experiences and rich experiences. A satisfying experience is a process–driven act that is performed in a successful manner. A rich experience has a sense of immersive continuity and interaction, which may be made up of a series of satisfying experiences.
Based on this definition, I identify a set of design principles with which to create products that evoke rich experiences. These principles are intended to encourage designers to think about how to create user–product interactions that suggest values and communicate meanings that enrich the quality of life. Narrative plays a key role in these design principles. Our series of life experiences form a narrative; the values that designers impart in an object form a narrative which is elaborated by a user to satisfy his specific needs. The interaction between an individual and a product is a juxtaposition of narratives. A rich user–product interaction forms a narrative that meshes with the series of experiences that make up one’s life story. It evokes an experience which becomes one of the extended experiences that shape our lives.
CONTENTS
I. Introduction 6
II. What is Experience? 10
John Dewey: Having an Experience
Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi: The meaning of products
Richard Carlson: Experienced Cognition
III. A Theory of User–product Experience 23
IV. User-centered Design and Experience 24
Donald Norman and the design of everyday things
Lucy Suchman: Plans and situated actions
Philip Kotler: Design of values through communication
V. Narrative, Design and Experience 30
VI. Recommendations for Design for Experience 34
VII. Conclusion 39
References 40
For my family, friends, and colleagues
I. Introduction
My friend was born and raised in the country in Italy and emigrated to the United States as an adult. He continued the agrarian habits of his youth by starting a small landscaping business. Looking at his tool shed, I am impressed to see that he has created tools in response to his needs and the opportunities of his working environment.
For example, he has modified a hoe whose angle was too sharp by carving a curved tree limb to replace the handle with one with a less drastic angle. He told me that this modified hoe resembles a tool he used as a boy. He added bumpers to the inside of long handled pruners to protect his knuckles when cutting thick branches. He’s woven wire supports through rakes to make them more rigid and more effective.
He has also created and modified tools inside the home, reflecting what he learned at his job as a suit presser in a clothing factory. He fashioned a wire support to lift the cord of the iron out of the way, long before it became a standard feature on domestic irons. He also built a pressing table to press suits at home, fashioned after the pressing machine he used at work.
This resourceful man modifies the design of a product to increase its usability specifically for him. He is able to increase his productivity by altering available products to mimic products he used successfully in the past. He also customizes products to perform tasks in an efficient and satisfying way. This man has created unique solutions to his problems with products — problems that, in the case of the iron, were latent needs of a larger group of users.
This story is an example of a subjective user–product interaction. I have noticed these types of interactions anecdotally in observing how people interact with products, in my own interactions with products, and most importantly, as a designer who crafts the interactions between people and products. In the case of the gardening and ironing tools, the products were modified to make the experience of using the product not only efficient, but desirable. Professor Dan Boyarski summed it up well when he...
said, “Research in cognitive psychology determines how products become useful and usable. But design addresses how the use of a product becomes desirable.”\(^1\) The design of a product should yield not only a usable product, but an interaction which is a satisfying, if not a rich experience. When I use the term rich experience, I mean an experience that has a positive and pleasing value for the user, allowing him to perceive beauty in the product and its use. A rich experience can be composed of groups of smaller tasks or activities. For example, the experience of horseback riding consists of a number of smaller tasks: preparing the saddle, placing it on the horse, and leading the animal out of the stable. Some designers have called these smaller tasks transactions, or process-driven acts that are component parts of a larger experience.\(^2\) These tasks, when completed in an efficient manner, are satisfying experiences, which build to a rich and enduring experience. For example, the rich experience of camping in the mountains is comprised of several smaller activities: navigating to the chosen spot, using well-constructed hiking shoes; pitching the tent for shelter, which is hopefully a task of minimal effort resulting in a sturdy structure; and surrounding oneself with the amenities needed for a safe and comfortable experience on the mountain — devices to prepare food and purify water. Although these individual activities are work in and of themselves, they become satisfying experiences that contribute to the rich and enduring experience of camping.
How can products yield satisfying and rich experiences for individuals when they are designed for market segments of similar users? Only after my friend had modified his gardening tools in a very personal way did they work satisfactorily for him. Mediated by tools he created himself, gardening became a rich and enduring experience.
While marketing research shapes the design of products to satisfy the needs of specific markets, designers cannot ignore the subjectivity of product use. In the case of design that is poor or unclear, individual inter-
---
\(^1\)Daniel Boyarski, personal communication.
actions with products can be dreadful, resulting in injury and even death. Is this to say that all product experience is subjective and design need answer only to the individual? I believe that good design can answer the paradox of designing for both individual and common experiences by providing the “raw materials” for experience that pertain to the values of both individuals and user groups.
In my personal experience as an artist and a designer, I have tried to create meaningful experiences through user–product interactions. I have always been fascinated by the subjectivity of experience. For example, it has been clearly illustrated to our research group studying moving, or kinetic, typography, an expressive form of communication enabled by time–based digital media.3 We noticed that when looking at animated sentences, people bestow a subjective meaning on the text that is displayed. In such a situation, readers invent a story, based on their own prior experience, through the communication of the message. Although commonly understood by the act of reading, the experience of the reader allows for a personal and emotional meaning to unfold. Past experience is recalled, situated in the present, and a new experience is created.
While these instances center around the communication of a message with dynamic text, products can be understood in a similar sense. A product communicates to the user through its situation in an environment. Effective design of the interaction between people and products should provide individuals with a successful, satisfying, and even rich, experience. Well–designed products can maintain a sensitivity towards individual experience while affording members of a user group a common experience. The designer, or team of designers, must understand the needs, tasks and environments of the people for whom the product is designed.4 Attempts at designing for the individual are evidenced by modular ergonomic chairs which conform to our bodies and by software plug–ins that allow us to customize our computer applications. Experience is a
4Lauralee Alben, “Quality of Experience,” interactions, Summer 1996.
topic that is often discussed, but designing for individual experience, where a user is a unique member of a larger market segment with similar needs, is a relatively new idea that merits discussion.
The challenge of this thesis is to suggest how designers may shape user–product interactions to create rich experiences for both individuals and groups. Good design, shaped by an understanding of users and how they experience products, can answer this task. In order to do this, designers must understand experience and narrative. Experience can be broadly defined as the series of conscious events that make up an individual’s life. Narrative, the formal representation of this series of events, and storytelling, the informal recounting of these events, are valuable tools for designers. Since design is a social, collaborative activity, communication with users and other members of the design team is essential. Communicating with and understanding users is facilitated through the use of narrative and storytelling.
The second section of this thesis explores the theme of experience through the work of John Dewey, a philosopher; Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a social psychologist; and Richard Carlson, a cognitive scientist. This choice of readings enables the comparison and contrast of different views of the fundamental aspects of experience, and the activities of experiencing and specifying information about the self.
In the third section, A Theory of User–product Experience, I define two types of user–product experiences: satisfying and rich. A satisfying experience is a goal–driven act that is performed in a successful manner. A rich experience is continuous and allows for interaction between internal information and information in the environment. It may be comprised of a number of smaller activities which are in and of themselves satisfying experiences.
In the fourth section, I explore existing approaches to user–centered design, to understand the approach to experience that user–centered design principles offer. I briefly examine the work of cognitive psychologist Donald Norman, an important figure in the short history of user–centered
human–computer interaction design; Lucy Suchman, an anthropologist who argues that the situation of use is important in user–centered design; and Philip Kotler, a marketing expert who has recognized the importance of defining human needs and values through product development. This study of these user–centered design and marketing principles provides readers with a better understanding of how satisfying experiences are evoked by useful, usable products, how these experiences may differ for individuals rather than user groups, and how groups of experiences combine to form a rich experience.
In the fifth section, Narrative, Design and Experience, I elaborate on narrative as a natural approach to understanding how to design rich user–product interactions. Both narrative and design are communicative activities; both involve the testing of values in the form of stories or products. The testing of values involves a user referencing his past experiences and continually forming new ones.
In the final section, I discuss some principles for designing for experience, and provide some examples of products that evoke rich experience. I hope that designers will use these principles to better understand how to create products that evoke rich and satisfying experiences for both individuals and user groups. Narrative plays a key role in these principles. Our series of life experiences form a narrative; the values that designers impart in an object form a narrative which is elaborated by a user to satisfy his specific needs. The interaction between a user and a product is a juxtaposition of narratives. A rich user–product interaction forms a new narrative that meshes with the series of experiences that make up one’s life story. It evokes an experience which becomes one of the extended experiences that shape our lives.
II. What is experience?
To design for rich experience, we must know what an experience is and how it comes to be. Designers need to understand how interpretation takes place when people interact with products. How do people make sense and meaning of the world? How is the intent of a person shaped by
an interaction, and how does the subjective interpretation of the interaction become an experience? Historically, literature and the fine arts have placed value on interpretation, the act of conceiving and making meaning in the light of individual beliefs. Interpretation has an equally important place in design and day-to-day interaction with objects. The philosopher John Dewey believed that the continuity of aesthetic experiences can be found in everyday surroundings. He felt that a person’s interaction with an expressive object, carried to the full, yields an experience, a narrative which is unique to both the maker and the perceiver of the expressive object.
**John Dewey: Having an Experience**
Dewey proposed a theory of aesthetics which sought to recover the continuity of aesthetic experience with the normal processes of living. He believed that life has been compartmentalized into areas for business, religion, morals, politics and art, and that people moved mechanically through these compartments of life, rather than relishing each and every event. In daily life, Dewey said, we do not really see, hear or touch; these activities are shaped by the course of completing tasks. Rarely does the eye perceive instead of sense; rarely is passion aroused from our surroundings. Since daily life devalues senses and experience, Dewey proposes “going back to experience of the common or mill run of things to discover the aesthetic quality such experience possesses.” To understand experience, and to discover how aesthetic experiences occur, we must look at everyday life, not just works of art in a museum.
Dewey describes the essential conditions of life which determine the nature of normal experience. Living creatures exist in an environment with which they constantly interact. Experience is created through the interaction of an organism with its environment. The conditions of life carried to the full lead ultimately to communication: “Nature and man interacting with each other yield experience, the result, sign and reward of that interaction of organism and environment, which, when carried to the full, is
---
6 Ibid, p. 11.
the transformation of interaction into communication.”7
However, the process of change shapes the flow of experience into an experience. All of life is a succession of loss and recovery of temporary equilibria, want and fulfillment, doing and not doing. Changes over time bear a new state of harmonious balance. When an organism returns to stability, after having passed through a phase of disruption, Dewey feels the conditions for an experience are in place. A starting point and an ending point define an experience, which is shaped by an aesthetic rhythm, and a unity of action, feeling, and meaning. We have an experience when “the material experienced runs its course to fulfillment.” Experience in the degree to which it is an experience is heightened vitality. It signals alert and active commerce with the world. An experience is whole; it has a beginning and a sense of closure. A piece of work is finished; a situation, such as a dinner party, is rounded out so that its close is consummate and not an abrupt end. There is a single quality that pervades the experience in spite of the variation of its parts. There are pauses and places of rest, but they serve to give rhythm to the quality of the whole.
Experiences have common aspects, no matter how they are formed. Every experience is the result of an interaction between a live creature and some aspect of the world. An experience has pattern and structure, because it is doing and undergoing in a harmonious relationship. The action and its consequence are joined, and unified by emotion. Regardless of the materials that bring form to an experience, it “has a satisfying emotional quality,” since “emotion is the moving and cementing force. It selects what is congruous and dyes what is selected with its color, thereby giving qualitative unity to materials externally disparate and dissimilar.”8
According to Dewey, an “impulsion” — the movement of an organism as a whole — is the beginning of a complete experience. The impulsion identifies a need which can only be satisfied through interactions with the environment. Interactions do not occur freely, but encounter obstacles.
7Ibid, p. 22.
8Ibid, p. 42.
which must be converted into favorable purpose. This allows the flow of experience to be shaped by intent and purpose. Intent allows for checking and reflection on prior experiences as new ones are brought to life. Dewey views an impulsion as the catalyst that converts an activity into an act of expression, which is carried by a medium, whether it be a sound, something in nature, or a man-made object.
Dewey uses the cry of a baby as an example. Initially, the cry is just an utterance. Then the baby begins to understand the effect that his cries have on people who surround him. He learns that crying on purpose will get him the things he needs, like food and a clean diaper. The consequences of doing are incorporated as the meaning of subsequent cries because the relationship between doing and undergoing are perceived. With intent, the baby can turn his utterances into meaningful, expressive communication, much like a painter can turn pigment into a means of expressing imaginative experience.
The baby’s cry is an expression that yields action and result. When the expressive act is embodied in an object, such as a painting or a piece of pottery, how is the act of expression understood? Dewey says that there is a difference between something that is expressive (an expression) and something that is not (a statement). Statements are general; like a highway billboard, they merely point us to an experience. An expression does not generalize; rather, it has a personal and unique meaning. It is an experience. When something is expressed, excitement and arousal result, stirring up emotions and past experiences. Dewey believes that the act of experience allows emotions to become conscious.
An expressive object and the expression of its maker are organically connected. Like wine that has been pressed from grapes, an expressive object is created from the action of making and the intention of the maker. Dewey states that this meaning is subjective for both the maker and the perceiver of the object: the maker has his personal intent, and the perceiver has unique channels of response that have been molded by former experiences.
Since expressive objects communicate through situation in an environment, they have a language, in spite of their intrinsic medium. Dewey says the language results from “what logicians call a triadic relation. There is the speaker, the thing said, and the one spoken to. The external object, the product of art, is the connecting link between artist and audience.”
Both maker and perceiver of the expressive object interact with it in a personal way. The interaction and resulting interpretation are active events, in which something new and not previously existant in a person’s experience is created.
Products are expressive objects that have been shaped for special uses. These objects are crafted from materials that are arranged in a purposeful, whole relationship. When a designed object not only performs a task but evokes an immediate and vital experience, Dewey says that the product is not merely useful but aesthetic. Design means adding both purpose and arrangement to material in the world. To understand how to design a product, one needs to know the purpose the object is intended to serve and how its various parts fit that purpose. The result of good design is an object which unifies shape and function, allows for personal and useful interaction, and arouses an emotion which unifies a satisfying experience.
Dewey finds the potential for experience and aesthetics to be present all around us. Through a process of action and reflection in an environment, individuals are active creators of experience. Impulsions signal the initial stage of the experience, and shape it with intent. Intent allows for a connection to past experiences and a giving of life to them. Emotion shapes the experience and gives it qualitative unity. When a product evokes an experience, the design and substance of the product falls away, and all that is evident is its form. The form of an experience is determined by a medium. Whether it is a baby’s cry, a dinner in a fine restaurant, or a poem or painting, an expressive object bestows on the maker and perceiver an experience. It is a communicative activity which is characterized by a richness of action, feeling and meaning.
---
9Ibid, p. 106.
10Ibid, p. 108.
Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi: The meaning of products
John Dewey views experience and interaction as active pastimes. An interaction between a person and an object occurs because the object is the result of an expressive activity of the maker, an arranging of materials for an intended purpose.
With this in mind, my study of experience shifts from the activity of interaction to the object in the interaction. How does a product or work of art shape a person’s intent and allow for an experience to take place? Is a person changed as a result of that experience? In the words of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, “To understand what people are and what they might become, one must understand what goes on between people and things.” Only a personal involvement with an artifact will enable it to convey meanings and experience for its owner. This is the thesis of Csikszentmihalyi’s research, a social psychologist who determined how and why people attach meanings to certain things.
What Dewey calls an experience is similar to what Csikszentmihalyi calls a transaction. The transaction consists of two parts: cultivation, the active formation of meanings, and flow, resulting energy from the activity between person and product. While Dewey’s experience stresses the activity of the interaction between an organism and an environment, Csikszentmihalyi’s transaction stresses the person and the things surrounding the activity. A communicative process involving the thing as a sign unfolds, resulting in more knowledge and meaning for the person.
For example, Csikszentmihalyi would describe a baby’s cry as something that specifies information about the self. The cry begins as a sensory experience, and coalesces into a particular pattern. As dim awareness is transformed into consciousness, the infant learns to connect the activity of crying with the satisfaction of needs. By attending to his intentions, the child discovers and strengthens the self, the source of wants from which his intentions occurred. He sees the power of the self to affect the environment.
Csikszentmihalyi defines a person as an aware being, in control of his existence and able to direct it towards purposeful activity. A person attends to and experiences something because it suits his goals and strengthens his sense of self. Concrete goals are symbolized by meaningful objects in a person’s life. Goals motivate the process of interpretation known as cultivation, but cultivation is limited by the capacities of human attention. In addition to personal goals, people must attend to maintaining the interactions of a social system. In an ideal social system, people's goals will be synchronous.
Csikszentmihalyi defines a thing as any bit of information that has a recognizable identity in consciousness. A thing is a sign standing for something else that is intimately related to a person’s character and past experience. For example, a king’s crown represents the principles for which he stands. Often, man–made things (products) play a double role in consciousness; they owe their existence to the attention and the intention of the maker and owe their interpretation to the subjective experience of the user. By actively appreciating an object, the owner joins in the act of creation, and it is this active effort, rather than the creator’s effort, that makes an artifact important in a person’s life. This is similar to Dewey’s belief that an expressive object is created from the intention of the maker and the act of making. No one part — the making or the perceiving — is complete in and of itself.
The process of attaching meaning is a communicative act involving the thing as a sign. It is easy to understand how a wedding ring or a crucifix functions as a sign. Csikszentmihalyi believes that products are signs in the same way, because of the many meanings that they contain, on personal, cultural and social levels: “The objects people use, despite their incredible diversity and sometimes contradictory usage, appear to be the signs on a blueprint that represent the relation of man to himself, to his fellows, and to the universe.”12 For example, a television set is a utilitarian product that a person could certainly live without. However, a large television, marketed as an “entertainment center,” can be a status symbol in the home, a means of
12Ibid, p. 38.
obtaining information, and a pastime that the average American spends a significant amount of time attending to. As a sign, the television has levels of personal, social, and cultural significance.
Meaning is interpreted in the context of an individual’s past experience. Emotion plays a part in the interpretation, much as emotion is the unifying element of Dewey’s experience. A thing often symbolizes emotion, like the joy symbolized by a trophy sitting on a mantel. The trophy is a symbol of the experience of winning, and it makes the owner feel joy to behold it. In this way, the trophy symbolizes joy — the emotion communicated as the result of an experience.
Things also symbolize the essence of a group or culture. This is a common realization of anthropological research. In almost every culture, objects are chosen to represent the power of the bearer. In today’s society, high-tech anodized aluminum bicycles and well-designed sports cars are, for many, desirable possessions. Vast amounts of money are spent on advertising campaigns that portray the status and power that owning such objects will bring us.
Csikszentmihalyi identifies two modalities within personal, social and cultural interpretation. Products that act as symbols of the self differentiate, or stress the unique qualities of the owner in his social context. Products may also integrate, or represent dimensions of similarity between the owner and others of similar, ethnic origin, religion, or lifestyle. We see a peculiar relationship between individual and group. Things develop individual meaning, but also integrate us in the shared meaning of culture. According to Csikszentmihalyi, attempts to reconcile the dichotomy of differentiation and integration are seen in behaviors such as gift-giving and bartering. Shared objects expand or restrict a person’s thoughts and actions, sometimes forming a bridge between one person and another.
New products change the way people organize and experience their lives, first individually, then on social and cultural levels. Consider how products such as television, birth control pills, and rollerblades have changed soci-
Objects affect what a person can do either by expanding or restricting action, thought, and experience. Through shaping actions, behaviors, and values, meaningful objects direct goals and shape life stories. Goals, though flexible and easily modified, shift with age towards objects and meanings that convey the continuity of a person’s experiences and preserve one’s past self. Goals shift from personal needs in childhood to social interaction in adulthood, articulating values and relationships that have been formed with others. The objects that best symbolize our goals are given meaning. These objects store and order experiences, which can be recalled in the form of stories during future interactions with the object. Special objects such as photographs and mementos personify qualities of other people, keeping the series of experiences that become a life story vividly alive. These experiences pervade life and culture.
Like Dewey, Csikszentmihalyi agrees that an aesthetic experience is a potential result of an interaction between a person and a product. When situated in a context, something aesthetically complete can arise from an interaction between a person and an object. These aesthetic qualities “are neither mental or physical, subjective or objective, but belong to specific situations or contexts and form consummations of transactions between the organism and the environment.” Csikszentmihalyi suggests that we conceive of aesthetic experiences as a way that we learn to become objective, in the sense of coming to recognize the pervasive qualities of the environment. The merging of action and awareness yields an enjoyable experience and a state of heightened perception in the environment.
How can Csikszentmihalyi’s work be of use to designers, the conceivers and makers of products? Csikszentmihalyi believes that good design is a visual statement that maximizes the life goals of the people in a certain culture, drawing on a shared symbolic expression for the ordering of such goals. The more universal the language of a designed product, the more
---
14Ibid, p. 177.
likely the design is to be judged as good across time and cultures. Products that become popular help shape and define a culture, as we have seen. However, successful and widely accepted products often begin as the feelings of a small minority struggling to formulate its experience in terms of an unfamiliar symbol. One’s first experience of a thing is subjective and unique. Csikszentmihalyi feels that people create a private set of references among products that they use, products that are able “to provide tangible, enduring, and vitalized signs that can communicate the continuity of one’s experiences, relationships, and values.”\(^{16}\)
Csikszentmihalyi’s work allows that products create subjective meaning and experience for individuals and shared meanings for groups and cultures. He informs us about personal, social, and cultural values, and the modes of integration and differentiation. His research shows that the meanings that objects take on for individuals changes as we become older. As babies and children, we order the diverse information of the world in a personal way, then in a social way, and finally in a cosmic way. People take a designed object and redefine it for themselves, varying the meanings over the course of many transactions, changing in response to increasing age, emerging goals, and situations of use. It is not the design of an object that makes it special, but what a person does with it — the interaction — that makes it special. A well–designed object must have the capacity to offer interaction, express deep human needs, and form relationships. Well–designed objects are the catalysts for interaction and experience, speaking of values that are accepted across time and cultures, enabling shared expression and common goals among members of a community of use.
The challenge to create well–designed objects with values that are judged good by individuals and various cultures is a complex one. How can it be done for tools like hearing aids, educational materials that work with complex amounts of information, or software that entertains 9–11 year old girls? Artifacts designed for any of the above scenarios are designed for
specific contexts and audiences. For the values of these products to speak across communities and cultures, basic assumptions must be made about an audience. A simple guideline might be to assume that each person is intelligent, curious, and perceptive, as well as intuitive, emotional and unique. One can also assume that all people experience conscious mental states and that although subjective, these mental states result in a series of experiences that dynamically changes each person and shapes his life story. For this reason, it is beneficial for designers to understand how consciousness and learning are experienced by the individual. I will turn to the field of experienced cognition for further insight.
**Richard Carlson: Experienced Cognition**
Cognitive science has made many attempts to define the roles of experience, consciousness, and learning in human beings. Richard Carlson, a cognitive scientist, has introduced the theory of experienced cognition, which defines the roles of consciousness and learning as experienced by the individual. Consciousness is defined as primary awareness or the fundamental experience of a self experiencing and acting in an environment. Central to the notion of consciousness is subjectivity; to be conscious is to have a unique point of view.
Carlson’s work is based on the theories of J.J. Gibson, who originated an ecological view of perception. Gibson argued that perception is the direct guidance of action in an environment and that objects in a person’s environment are *affordances* that allow for action. In Gibson’s view, perception always accompanies and guides action, and the concept of agency, or self as cause, is central to primary awareness.
Carlson’s theory is based on the cospecification hypothesis, where “the central feature of consciousness is that an experiencing self and experienced objects are cospecified in arrays of available information.” For
---
20Richard Carlson, *Experienced Cognition*.
20
Carlson, everyday experience is comprised of goal-directed activity in an information–rich environment. Information in this sense does not mean words or pictures, but any patterning in the energy that allows the senses to perceive. The environment is perceived by exploration and resampling of continually available information. A person’s activity, driven by intent and the need to accomplish a goal, changes his viewpoint, over time, from which the environment is perceived. A state of self–awareness gives a person unique control over what he experiences, by continually linking activities with changing goals.
Much of our experience involves the routine use of well–earned cognitive skills. Conscious activity is the experiencing self controlling the flow of mental states. Cognitive skills, such as mental arithmetic, rule–based puzzles, and physics problems embody knowledge and are often the focus of study of cognitive scientists. Problems that test these skills are alike in that they involve the manipulation of symbols — letters, numbers and words. However, when skills are situated in the context in which they happen, rather than in a laboratory, they can become a blend of both conscious and cognitive. The task of brewing morning coffee is perhaps more conscious than cognitive, since it is fluent and well–learned. But should we happen to put the coffee in the refrigerator and the milk on the stove burner, we are startled into a cognitive state. These kinds of tasks involving products used in a conscious rather than cognitive manner are important studies for designers. Observing a product which is situated in the context of use and affords an interaction which becomes fluent over time may suggest that the information that the product and its interaction offers is a good match for what is in the person’s experience. Interactions with products that change in fluency with practice change the affordances of the products to the user, affecting his role of consciousness, and changing the opportunities for experience.
Some acts of consciousness — symbolic awareness (reading and simple math), perceptual–enactive awareness, and emotional awareness — happen continuously. Perceptual–enactive awareness is awareness supported by information in the environment and by our activities, rather than by
a mental representation. Perceptual–enactive states, formed on the condition of satisfaction, can fail to be satisfied. For instance, I might believe that there is pizza in the refrigerator for dinner, and plan my activities on the basis of that belief, finding later that my belief was false. Similar behavior happens with products. I believe the VCR will record my favorite show, but, in fact, it recorded snow. The belief in my mind functions in virtue of the actual thing, in my inability to interact with a product in the way that the designer has conceived of.
Emotional awareness consists of arousal that affects the rate at which a person specifies information about his environment. Carlson states, “Just as a visual point of view determines the aspectual shape of visual experiences — the ‘angle’ we have on the objects we see — emotionality determines the aspectual shape of cognitive contents.”21 Emotion serves to make our point of view more subjective. Mood is a long–term, less–emotional experience that changes self–specific information over longer time spans. Intense emotion makes our point of view more subjective. For example, if you are feeling angry and sitting in your office, you are likely to feel provoked more readily by what goes on around you. Emotion also helps control our activity, especially when we form intentions and make decisions. This view of emotion is in contrast to Dewey’s, who views emotion as a binding and unifying element of an experience; states of experience colored by a similar emotional state may form an experience.
Experienced cognition allows us to recognize the continuity of consciousness in all aspects of experience. The cospecification hypothesis realizes that the series of conscious mental states we experience becomes the extended experience that constitutes our life story. When there is compatibility between information that specifies the self, and that which specifies the environment, we have rich experience. Understanding experienced cognition — how people are conscious, how they build cognitive skill, and how their emotional states affect what they experience — can help interaction designers to provide better products with which to craft experience.
21Ibid, Ch. 6.
Many authors have discussed the fundamental aspects of experience. I have summarized three different approaches: Dewey’s theory of aesthetics, Csikszentmihalyi’s research in the social sciences, and Carlson’s theory and research in experienced cognition. Based on these perspectives, I propose a theory of user–product experience and discuss how interaction designers can create products that evoke rich experiences.
III. A theory of user–product experience
How do interactions with products evoke rich and satisfying experiences? I suggest that a satisfying experience is evoked by a product that performs a task in a way that the user responds to favorably. A light switch gives a clear indication of how to manipulate it to fill the room with light. The button at the gate to the parking garage sinks under my finger when I press it and issues a ticket as the gate opens and allows me to enter. Since these kinds of products and related tasks may be encountered repetitively by the user, functionality of the product is a key factor in generating a satisfying experience.
I suggest that a rich experience is one that has a sense of immersive continuity and allows for interaction between internal information and the environment. A rich experience can be made up of a series of satisfying experiences. The gardening tools discussed earlier performed in a satisfactory manner that gave way to a rich experience. To enjoy the rich experience of horseback riding, one must saddle the horse (all buckles and straps on the saddle must be in order) and lead the horse from the stable (suggesting a door that is wide enough to accommodate the horse). A rich experience has a sense of continuity that surrounds the user; the individual aspects of a satisfying experience blend and become one. A woman cited the act of bathing her baby as a rich experience. Soap, bathtub, and towel performed their tasks, combining to form the totality of experience of the bath and the interaction between mother and child.
A rich experience may be the result of an interaction with a product that not only performs a task in a satisfactory manner, but has a high symbolic profile. A doorknob created from ornate crystal might suggest some-
thing about what a person will experience as he turns the knob and enters the room. The door knob is part of an interaction that generates a rich experience. The user looks at information in his environment (the doorknob) and matches it to subjective information (his past experience of doors and doorknobs), synthesizing and creating a new experience, situated in the present.
A designer cannot really craft an experience, but can only provide the raw materials as values through which interaction and experience take place. From objects and situations, the user creates a set of experiences that becomes a narrative. While a well–designed product should make objective and subjective conditions equal, designers should allow and expect that the raw materials they provide can and will be used in unimagined ways. As we have seen, the subjective view of the user and the amount of information he takes in varies through his changing point of view in the environment and affects the experience that is evoked.
**IV. User–centered design and experience**
The relatively short history of user–centered design has offered designers information on crafting interactions with products. In the introduction to *User Centered System Design: New Perspectives on Human–Computer Interaction*, the authors suggested that designers adapt artifacts to their users and environments: “The computer can be viewed from the experience of the user, a view that changes considerably with the task, the person, the design of the system.”
Norman and Draper were some of the first researchers to propose the idea of considering the user as central in the design process. There have been diverse approaches to user–centered design. Founded in sociology, psychology and anthropology, they attempt to understand the user, to affect values and beliefs of the user, and to study interactions between users and products in context.
Although these approaches come from the fields of psychology, anthropology, and sociology, the kind of experience they allude to is a satisfying, rather than a rich one. These design principles conceive largely of a prod-
---
uct as filling a niche or completing a task, rather than providing raw material from which a rich experience is built. I will examine these approaches briefly.
**Donald Norman and the design of everyday things**
Donald Norman, a cognitive and experimental psychologist, has proposed in his book *The Design of Everyday Things* design principles based on perception, cognition, and problem-solving. People accomplishing tasks and people cooperating with machines guide his design principles. They are best viewed as describing the cognitive behavior of a user group, rather than an individual.
In summary, Norman’s principles state that well-designed products should have visible cues to tell people how to use them, should have a good mapping between parts and what each part actually does (for example, knobs on the stove are in the same position as the burners), and should provide feedback continuously as a result of an interaction with a user. Feedback is given through *affordances*, the cues of what a product affords its user through human interaction. These design principles rely on environmental information, but interactions with products are a combination of “what is in the world” and “what is in the head.” Norman acknowledges that users work under constraints — physical, logical, and cultural — which give them a unique perspective on product use. He urges designers to take advantage of physical constraints in the environment to allow users to rely less on cognitive processes.
Norman believes that when we rely on personal experience to achieve our goal rather than the logical deduction of cognitive processes, mistakes occur. This happens because what the user encounters does not really match anything in his experience, even though he might believe that it does.
When experiences with products rely on information in the environment, rather than subjective information, they are successful and satisfying. This is what Norman calls the design of everyday things — of VCRs that can be programmed, of dashboards of cars that can be operated with
ease. These are experiences that are crafted with cognitive processes in mind, predicting reliable results over larger groups of users.
**Lucy Suchman: Plans and situated actions**
Lucy Suchman, an anthropologist and social scientist, proposes an alternative approach to human-computer interaction. Like Norman, she is concerned with getting things to work right, but looks at the individual situated in a context of use to achieve a satisfying experience.
In *Plans and Situated Actions: The problem of human machine communication*, Suchman explores the relation of knowledge and action to the particular circumstances in which knowing and acting occur. She describes interactions between people and products as planned, purposeful actions that are situated, meaning that they take place in the context of concrete circumstances. Cognitive science tells us that plans are located in a person’s head, defining the behavior that the user will take to accomplish a goal. Suchman argues that these internal plans are modified by a person’s material and social circumstances and are shaped by the accomplishment of action. Hence, plans become dynamic through a user’s interaction with a machine in a specific situation.
Suchman sees language as a central resource in situated actions. Conversation allows for joint action through participants’ continuous interactions in an alternating sequence of action and response. Conversation also accommodates unforeseeable circumstances as they arise, locates and remedies the troubles in communication, and maintains control over the turns and direction of subject matter. Suchman draws a comparison between the nature of conversation and the relevance of action in human–computer interaction. Just as a conversation is conditional in that what one person says will generate a range of responses from another, so is the relevance of action in human–computer interaction.
Suchman suggests that the user model, a preconceived representation of the user, should be replaced with observation of the user situated in an environment of use. This “real–time user modeling” recommends the following design strategies: diagnosis based on differential modeling, which
Designing for Experience:
An Approach to Human–Centered Design
takes the actions of a novice user into account as well as an expert user; detection of diagnostic inconsistencies, which provides for the likelihood of misdiagnosis and repair; and effective trouble usage, which makes errors accessible to the user so that they can learn from them.\textsuperscript{23}
Designing for trouble means that the designer uses the wider social setting in which a product is embedded as a resource to remedy troubles that individuals have in understanding a product. For example, if there is more than one understanding that will produce the same action, detecting an individual action does not necessarily mean that the understanding is at hand. If a skill can manifest itself in any number of actions, the absence of an individual action does not mean the absence of the skill. Interactions with the environment of a product help designers to provide enough product actions to remedy inconsistencies in human behavior.
Suchman sees the experience of product use in terms of the individual. She realizes that a person’s life story, as well as the context in which a product is situated, shapes an individual’s expectations about a product. Although her design principles allow that there is a fundamental difference between people and machines, the experience that the human–machine interaction generates is a satisfying rather than a rich one. However, Suchman’s ideas move towards regarding a person in the interaction as an intelligent, communicative being, rather than a system component with faulty memory and limited attention span. In this way, her work is a step towards understanding a rich experience. Her work has become a framework for other HCI research which moves closer to the actual practices and behaviors of people, and the higher level behaviors and values that are important to them.
I have briefly reviewed two seminal approaches in the history of user–centered design. These approaches to user–centered design describe what I call satisfying experience, rather than providing the raw materials for rich experience. Early user–centered design principles conceived of people as another component in the system diagram, a homogeneous component
\textsuperscript{23}Lucy Suchman, Plans and Situated Actions: The problem of human machine communication (Boston, MA: Cambridge)
that behaved in a predictable way. Suchman’s work was among the earli-
est research that recognized the user as an individual, rather than a sys-
tem component. Conceiving of the user in this manner initiated robust
research on interaction design principles, resulting in criteria such as
those presented by *interactions* magazine in 1996 on the quality of expe-
rience.24
However, several aspects of marketing research have also considered
people as agents who hold unique values and beliefs. This may be sur-
prising to designers, who have traditionally viewed marketing as some-
thing that distances designers from the audience. George Nelson, in his
essay *Ends and Means*, elaborates: “It is not often that a designer finds
himself in a position free from pressures... he is subject to budgets,
technical limitations, marketing problems, [and] conflicting demands
from many people.”25 User–centered design allows a satisfying experi-
ence to take place through interaction with a product. Social marketing
allows communication to occur about a product — creating context,
expectations, feelings, and values about its use, and evoking a change
in behavior that is an immersive, often rich, experience. Social marketing
describes the use of a product in a way to advance change behavior of
individuals and groups.
**Philip Kotler: Design of values through communication**
Social marketing uses products or activities to advance social behaviors
or causes: the Trojan Man character positions condoms as acceptable
purchases for women, to prevent pregnancy and sexually transmitted dis-
ease; an Australian traffic safety campaign instilled the ethical values of
driving responsibly on television viewers.26 Social marketing integrates
planning, communication, marketing skills, and approaches to social
change to maximize users’ responses. Communication, often about how
a product is used, is the means for changing behavior.
26Jorge Frascara, “Communications for Change: Strategies and Difficulties,” *Design Issues*, 12, No. 3 (Autumn
Social marketing programs are structured around the needs of particular segments of a particular audience. A “target population” is defined by unifying characteristics, including age, social class, and income; psychological profiles, such as values and beliefs; and behavioral characteristics, such as buying and decision-making habits. However, group characteristics begin at the level of the individual, first through beliefs, then attitudes and values. A belief is a conscious or unconscious proposition inferred from what a person says or does. An attitude is an organization of beliefs around an object or situation, and a value is a type of belief centrally located in a personal system of behavior.
Kotler recognizes that individuals have selective attention, in that they do not notice everything; selective distortion, in that they hear only what they want to hear; and selective recall, in that they can only retain a small part of a message in memory. When communication takes place, the current image held by the individual is replaced by the desired image of the communicated message. Kotler’s communications model shows change taking place on three levels: cognitive, affective and finally, behavioral. At the cognitive level, a user of a socially marketed product gets a new image in his head; at the affective level, the user’s attitude is changed, and at the behavioral level, the user will act differently.
A product has a strong potential to change the beliefs, attitudes, and values of its users. The audience is persuaded to adopt a belief demonstrated or suggested through the product. The purpose of this persuasion may accomplish one of several goals: it may induce the audience to take action, it may educate the audience, or it may exhibit values to the audience for approval or disapproval. When a product satisfies a need no other product does, or satisfies a need that is currently not being addressed, it becomes a desirable product that is adopted first by individuals, then by social and cultural groups, changing and becoming an integral part of daily life.
Kotler’s communications model suggests that the experience evoked by socially marketed products is often both satisfying and rich. New products are designed and marketed to exceed user expectations and change beliefs. Users are immersed in a process whereby a carefully designed product changes their current behavior to a new and better one. Products like birth control pills and nicotine patches change beliefs and values centered around a way of life. Something more happens after a product “does its job” — values are affected through gradual change. The product may even take on a symbolic meaning. For example, a plastic recycling bin becomes a symbol of the attempt to save the earth’s resources.
Early user–centered design principles have made some contributions to understanding how products evoke satisfying experiences. Norman’s design of everyday things, Suchman’s situated activity theory, and Kotler’s social marketing theory employ differing social science disciplines to bring knowledge to the product development process. User-centered design principles help detect and resolve problems in how products are conceived and made. In deciding on the placement of features, widgets, and buttons, tasks are performed efficiently, resulting in a satisfying experience of product use. The application of marketing principles gives insight to the career of products — how they will be positioned and advertised, possessed, used, and enjoyed. However, it is the responsibility of the interaction designer to conceive of the user as an active participant in interaction, and to determine the qualities of products that provide the raw materials for rich experience. To assist in this process, I suggest that designers explore storytelling and narrative, natural ways for people to communicate.
V. Narrative, Design and Experience
This section of my thesis explores storytelling, the recounting of life’s events by one person to another, and narrative, the formal representation of such a series of events. Storytelling is a natural way of communicating; it has been put to use in the design process to evaluate and understand the user.29 However, I suggest that narrative plays a larger part in the
design process. Beyond serving as a communicative tool in interviews between users and designers and in scenarios between clients and designers, narrative can be understood as a formal representation of both a user’s and a product’s life.
Although unnamed as such, the formal representation of narrative is apparent in the writings on experience. Carlson believes that a series of extended experiences form a “stream of consciousness” that make up our life story. Czikszentmihalyi believes that objects which create meaning and experience for the self become an important part of our life history. Dewey states that expressive objects which evoke experiences have their own language, which is unique to both the maker and the perceiver of the object. In these narrative situations, the individual is both the subject and the object of his own discourse. Ideas and images privately addressed to the individual make meaning and evoke experience. Rhetorician Kenneth Burke believes: “A man can be his own audience, insofar as he, even in his secret thoughts, cultivates certain ideas or images for the effect he hopes they may have on him.”
Much as our series of conscious experiences form an extended life experience, or narrative, which we recount in bits and pieces to others as stories, a product is also a narrative, a formal representation of values and beliefs of the designers who created it. When the primary goal of a product is rich experience, its design exhibits, through expression and formal qualities, particular values for the audience to consider. The product narrative references and tests the user’s existing beliefs and past experiences through a deeply engaging communicative process. Often, the story takes on a particular aesthetic. It is directed to a specific audience holding particular cultural beliefs, understandings, and experiences.
How is the narrative of a product transformed into a rich experience for the individual? The designer strives to make a rich experience tangible through the giving of form. George Nelson views design as a social activity, where the exploration of a design should be carried out with truth and
emotional intensity. If an experience results from an organism interacting with its environment, Nelson sees design as mediating the activity, for Nelson believes that good design achieves unity or wholeness in a balanced relation to its environment. The series of decisions made during the design process provide the product with a narrative. Users shape their series of life experiences to form a narrative. In a user–product interaction, these narratives are juxtaposed, creating a tension where values are tested and experience takes place.
Roger Schank, Director of the Institute of Learning Sciences at Northwestern University, explores narrative in the book *Tell Me a Story.* For Schank, narrative and storytelling function in numerous ways in helping people order, communicate, and remember experiences.
According to Schank, when we tell a story, we condense experience into a gist, or a distilled memory structure. Gists are rich with information; they contain information about the goals attained and the lessons learned from an experience. When someone chooses to tell a story, he elaborates on the gist, adding details to make the story concrete and pertinent to the listener.
The way a gist is elaborated is subjective. Through the communication of a story, both the listener and the speaker come to simplify and abstract a complex experience. If a listener is open and curious about an experience, or if the story does not fit with his existing knowledge structure, hearing a relevant story can help him learn. This process of communication and discovery allows both storyteller and listener to come to new realizations. Through the juxtaposition of stories, a tension may be created that allows for reasoning and change to take place. Walter Fisher, who views humans as storytelling creatures, concurs: “the world as we know it is a set of stories that must be chosen among in order for us to live life in a continual process of re-creation.”
33Walter Fisher, *Human Communication as Narration: Toward a Philosophy of Reason, Value and Action* (University of
A product has similar communicative properties. Depending on the individual, its narrative tells the user a different story of use. My friend’s tools not only recalled his experiences as a boy in Italy; he used one tool to do a number of jobs. The hoe he designed was used both to turn soil and lift sod off the lawn. One product can communicate to two users very differently. My accountant likes the hard line a mechanical pencil offers him; I dislike that line quality when I am writing and drawing. Products can communicate to users in new ways when they are open and curious about interacting with them. Often, this is how “advanced” features are discovered by users in software programs.
When the narrative of product use and the series of experiences that form one’s life story mesh compatibly, rich experience is the result. Through a juxtaposition of narratives of product design and product use, both designer and user can gain new insights about interactions with products. Storytelling makes the experience of users explicit, and in turn, better user–product interactions can be designed.
The conjunction of stories allows us to communicate naturally. We assume similarity and build bridges over different communities, cultures, and areas of knowledge. The process of storytelling is an instrument for making meaning that dominates life, from bedtime stories to testimonies in courts of law. Fisher defines narrative as a means for recounting or accounting for human choice and action. Recounting takes the form of history, biography, or autobiography. Accounting for takes the form of theoretical explanation or argument. Recounting and accounting for constitute the stories we tell ourselves and each other to order our experience. Stories are rhetorical in the sense that they are composed and presented to influence beliefs and actions. The storyteller believes that his themes can be accepted as the true and right way of conceiving of a matter. When a designer is the storyteller, these themes are expressed through the form of a product.
Designers and researchers have realized the usefulness of storytelling. Thomas Erickson of Apple Computer has recognized storytelling as an integral part of the design process. Rick Robinson of E-lab recognizes the
use of storytelling as a process of evaluation and making meaning: “...how well does something tell the story it is expected to tell? Can people tell better stories with the new artifacts than with the old ones? Do the kinds of... narratives they create with artifacts enable them to have a more complex understanding of the world?”34 Stories, while informative or phatic, are warrants for accepting the advice that they communicate. The basis for telling a story is bound to a value. We discern if the value is appropriate to the nature of our decision or belief that the story concerns, and consider the effects of adhering to the value in regard to our concept of self and our relationship to others and society.
The formal representation of narrative is useful when designing for individual experience, since individuals judge a story on personal criteria for belief and action. Stories appeal to various senses simultaneously: reason and emotion, intellect and imagination, fact and value. What a product offers to a user is a narrative. It allows a user to maintain, test, or transform his values. Product narratives are elaborated specifically by each user, for each situation and context; the same product communicates differently to each user. New ways of using the product are also discovered.
VI. Recommendations for design for experience
This section of my thesis lists some principles for design for experience, and illustrate them with examples. These principles are not prescriptive or process–oriented, but are statements to assist with thinking about and conducting the design process. By no means comprehensive, these principles are intended to encourage designers to think about how user–product interactions test values, make meanings, and enrich the quality of life.
Every user–product interaction is an experience. However, certain products have a rich experience as the primary communication goal — maintaining, testing, or changing values. The design of these products attempt to persuade the audience to adopt a belief or value suggested through the product. I call this display of values the
“raw materials” that a product offers for a user to consider.
Designing for rich experience:
means that designers understand the user as an intelligent, unique, perceptive, curious and emotive being. Users have subjective, frequently-changing points of view. Users enhance the information that defines them as individuals when they interact with products.
means that a user–product interaction is an activity where the values a product offers are carefully considered.
bestows an ethical responsibility on designers in the choice of values a product displays, and the type of interaction it offers.
relies on the use of narrative to understand the user and the context of use, and to conceive of the product and how it might be used.
A product that evokes a rich experience
reflects the wisdom of user–centered design principles; that is, all the repetitive tasks involved in using the product are done in a satisfying way, so that these tasks are minimized in the creation of a rich experience.
meshes information about the self and the environment of use compatibly; an enhanced self is the result. Subjective and objective conditions are equal. Objective conditions cover a wide range — what is done by the product and the way that it is done, and the social environment in which it is engaged.
I first choose a teapot as an example of a product which is designed for experience. A teapot’s function is simple, but the product has a high symbolic profile. In using teapots, meanings are formed on a number of individual and cultural levels that groups of people share. I have a “London Bus” teapot that recalls fond memories of London; the British and the Japanese have sets of culturally accepted behaviors centered around the brewing and drinking of tea. Individual and cultural meanings surrounding
a teapot can also serve to differentiate or integrate a person among his peers. I have a whole collection of teapots and pitchers which I enjoy displaying in my home. Often visitors ask me where I found them or what I know about them. I provide the explanation in the form of a story that I make concrete for the listener at the time. An acquaintance of mine can perform a Japanese tea ceremony; this might serve to integrate him into the Japanese culture.
The form that a teapot takes expresses something about the status of its environment. One would probably not expect to see a fine china teapot like a Meissen in a working class British home. A teapot we would see in such a home might be thick, coarse china, chipped and worn, with a grimy tea cozy. Yet it performs its teaholding function in a satisfactory way and offers an afternoon ritual to the members of its home. The design of the teapot, while affording the function of brewing and pouring tea, does much more. Its form and expression serve as a gist for a whole series of experiences. The teapot becomes raw material with which a user can interact, specify information about himself, and evoke a unique, rich experience. In the commonplace exists the potential for a rich experience.
A teapot is one of a number of long–existing eating objects which are usually imbued with meaning. It is fairly easy to see how the form and expression of the teapot suggest aesthetic and social values which become meaningful when a user interacts with and experiences a product.
Social values are also suggested in products where the communication of a message is the goal, such as posters and web sites. Colors magazine is a controversial magazine founded by the clothing company Benetton, which bears a slogan on the cover which reads “A Magazine for the Rest of the World.” Rather than a traditional magazine which features the work of different writers, Colors is like a series of textbooks on different themes — AIDS, unemployment, and wealth. Much of the communication is delivered through images; the existing text is published in a multilingual format — Spanish and German, or English and French.
The purpose of *Colors* is to display a belief for the reader to experience. The formal devices of the magazine allow for a deeper engagement by the individual: the harsh graininess of documentary photojournalism, placing the viewer as a voyeur in a culture in which he is unfamiliar. The viewer becomes an active participant in the testing of values and the creation of experience. At an individual level, he is forced to think, comparing the experiences of his culture with those of other cultures, and synthesizing them to form a new experience. On a social or cultural level, he may act to change his behavior and the way in which he influences others. As a result of interacting with the product, the series of experiences that forms his life story is changed.
New or breakthrough products also test values. Whether a product is adopted or ignored is a statement of whether users accept or reject the values it suggests. In–line skates are an example of a breakthrough product which has become widely popular and has spawned the production of numerous other products such as safety equipment and accessories related to the activity of in–line skating. In–line skates allow users to perform a familiar activity in a new way. With practice, the use of the product becomes more fluent, resulting in unimagined uses such as traversing stairs and performing stunts. Innovative products such as in–line skates, beepers, and cell phones undergo continuous transformations, resulting in newer, more powerful, and more usable products. Consumers accept the ones that have agreeable values and ignore the ones that do not. New products enable users to change their behavior in appealing ways. As the use of a product becomes fluent, new product features may be discovered and integrated into existing product designs. In extreme cases, new industries may unfold.
We have seen what kinds of rich experience are evoked by these products. Teapots are long–extant products imbued with meaning; communication pieces such as *Colors* magazine force readers to challenge their thinking and their experience of life as they know it; breakthrough products such as rollerblades offer ways to experience life in new and previously unconceived ways. How is meaning attached to digital products...
such as software games, CD ROMs, and products with interfaces, where both the designer and the user may be immersed in creating and using a product that is entirely new? Digital media is in its infancy and designers have had little practice in designing users’ interactions with it. The market currently bears as many poorly–designed digital products as well-designed ones. When a user interacts with a poorly–designed digital product, and cannot use it successfully, he will not have a satisfying, much less a rich, experience. The components of the product must be learnable and usable, to provide the raw materials for a rich experience.
Software games such as You Don’t Know Jack (Berkeley Systems) and The Neverhood (Dreamworks Interactive) are examples of digital products that offer rich experiences. Although the content of the game is preprogrammed, it is presented to the user in a highly responsive, almost unpredictable manner. The design of navigational and interface elements is well structured and logical, so that the repetitive tasks involved in using the software are done in a satisfying manner. As a result, the user is immersed in an experience to which he gradually gives in. The result is a rich, expressive, emotional experience.
Another kind of digital media product which successfully provides the raw materials for rich experience is motion graphics, which are becoming more and more popular in film, television and advertising. The addition of time and motion to traditional typographic forms such as font, style, color and size allows for a message to be conveyed in an expressive, emotional way.
The film title for the Hitchcock film North by Northwest, designed by Saul Bass in 1959, is an example of a motion graphics piece that offers engaging interaction. Animated movement is used to achieve a range of psychological and emotional effects unobtainable with static typographic forms. More recent works in the same genre include film titles for Mission Impossible and Seven, done by the firm R/GA studios. In the Mission Impossible title, letters rush across the screen, creating a tension that suggests an impending explosion. The Seven titles give the viewer a sense of uneasiness, of something that is psychologically askew.
Although these examples evoke a rich experience for the viewer, little is understood about how this type of experience happens. I reason that the motion of the typographic forms is compelling to the viewer because it suggests a value with which we can all identify — the value of human life. A rich range of experiences can be achieved by varying the combination of typographic forms. A viewer may experience a character, a motion innate to a living thing, or an emotion. The past experience and culture of the viewer influence the reading of the message and the personal meaning that is made of it. An emotional, co-communicative process results from the interaction.
To develop my principles for designing for experience, I have created a personal essay using time–based digital media. In its finished form, I hope this essay will stand as an example of these principles in action, offering a narrative that is adaptable to many different individuals. In addition, I hope this work builds on the work of other interaction designers, by adding another narrative to the series of user–product interactions and experiences. The challenge for interaction designers is to offer richer ways for people to evoke experience.
VII. Conclusion
In this thesis, I have attempted to understand experience as it is relevant to interaction design. Based on reading and theory, I identify two types of experience in user–product interactions: satisfying experiences and rich experiences.
Based on this definition, I have described some principles for designing for experience. These principles are based on my explorations in my work as an interaction designer. Rather than prescriptive rules or methods, these principles are intended to encourage designers to think about how to create user–product interactions that suggest values and communicate meanings that enrich the quality of life.
I have begun to initially develop these principles through my own experimental designs during my graduate study. It is important to further develop these ideas through application of these principles to real–world prod-
uct design. Ultimately, I hope that my principles will exist and grow through their use by other interaction designers, evidenced by products that offer new and better ways of life.
References
Boyarski, D. Personal communication, Carnegie Mellon University, 1996.
Erickson, T. “Design as Storytelling.” *interactions*, July/August 1996.
Ford, S., Forlizzi, J., Ishizaki, S. Personal communication, 1996.
|
Architecture as Ornament: Louis Sullivan's Late Work
By Michael O’Brien
It would be hard to assert that one can understand an entire building by looking at a part so small as a piece of ornament, but after constructing through drawing, a number of these pieces of ornament, and doing the same for Sullivan’s late commissions, I believe that it can now be asserted that Sullivan was designing buildings that were architectural ornament at a large scale. Sullivan’s belief in his own creative will, fueled by the power of nature, learned from the lectures of Asa Grey, the poetry of Whitman, the drama of Richard Wagner’s music Nietzsche’s “Übermensch,” Goethe’s “Urpflanze” and his utopian ideal of Chicago seems to have been the key to the visceral power of his architectural ornamental that can only be described as fantastic and a career achievement. But Sullivan went farther than the design of ornament according to the formal methods documented his last publication, “A System of Architectural Ornament according to Man’s Powers.” Most of his last series of architectural commissions show evidence that he was attempting to construct whole buildings according to the same formal methods used in making the ornament. This paper will present an overview of Sullivan’s principles of ornament and the primary ornament types he employed across his fifty-year career, and will focus on the medallion type of ornament and its role in the development of Sullivan’s commissions following his break from Dankmar Adler in 1895 and its pivotal role during his last period of practice, 1907-1919 in transforming inert buildings into vibrant containers of human energy.
Introduction
The role of nature in architectural ornament has been actively questioned since architectural surfaces were used by Egyptians to record history. If we accept Alois Riegl’s analysis, the change from accurate depiction to artistic interpretation of botanical species occurred as early as the Egyptian Middle Kingdom, 2040 B.C. Riegl bases this assertion on the presence of droplet-elements added to the historically recognized volute-calyx form of the Lotus ornament. He proposes that the droplet additions are an artistic rather than representational response to a judgement made by the artist that the filling the space was more important than accurately representing the Lotus.
Gottfried Semper had offered material as the underlying driver of ornamental form which Riegl countered with an example (of several materialist refutations) of a prow ornament from a Maori canoe. The paired spiral ornament was produced using the chip-carving method, making the form and method not “natural” to each
---
https://doi.org/10.30958/aja.6-2-1
doi=10.30958/aja.6-2-1
other in wood. In place of material and technique, Riegl proposes that the will and ingenuity of the artist drives the adaptation of natural forms to the specific design context in order to construct ornamental form solving the visual problems of field filling and asymmetry while maintaining visual unity.
The premise of the artist as the origin for form in ornamental design is implicit in the title of Sullivan’s 1924 publication “A System of Architectural Ornament According with a Philosophy of Man’s Powers”. In Sullivan’s view, “Man’s Powers” were the ability to perceive and transform the inorganic into the organic, to sympathize, to “enter into communion with living and lifeless things.” To see stone, iron or clay transformed into organic form was the same as seeing the building transformed into a living organism for Sullivan, and his ornament was the key to presenting this organism to all who entered.
“A System of Architectural Ornament According with a Philosophy of Man’s Powers” was Sullivan’s only graphic essay explaining the principles and processes underlying what is held by many in architecture and material culture to be the most significant development in architectural ornament ever achieved. “A System” is Sullivan’s only written instruction for how to transform lifeless matter into forms of life. In “A System” Sullivan suggests only two references to the reader, “Gray’s School and Field Book of Botany” (1857) by Asa Gray and Edmund Wilson’s (1896) “The Cell in Development and Heredity”. Sullivan cites Asa Gray in the context of his education in Moses Woolson’s classes at the English high school. In “The Autobiography of an Idea” Sullivan recalls “After recess came nature study with open book. Chief among them Gray’s ‘School and Field Book of Botany’ - Louis’s playground; then came a closing lecture by the Master.”
Sullivan continues, “It was in the nature studies, and in these closing lectures, particularly those in which he dwelt upon the great out-of-doors, and upon the glories of English literature, that the deep enthusiasms of the man’s nature came forth undisguised and unrestrained, rising often to the heights of impassioned eloquence, and beauteous awakening imagery. In a sense, Moses Woolson’s school room partook of the nature of a university - quite impressively so when Professor Asa Gray of Harvard came occasionally to talk botany to the boys.”
Moses Woolson and Asa Gray are two of the three teachers Sullivan mentions favorably in “An Autobiography.” Clearly these teachers were instrumental in engaging Sullivan’s intuitive love of nature. This paper proposes Asa Gray’s textbook “Gray’s School and Field Book of Botany,” published in 1857, was an enduring source of insight and artistic inspiration for Sullivan, extending deep into Sullivan’s career and directly informing his medallion type ornament.
Gray was a professor of natural history at Harvard from 1842 to 1873 and the leading American Botanist. His life work, “The Flora of North America” was published in 1838. Gray was one of the leading American advocates for Darwin’s
---
5. Ibid, 166.
theory of natural selection, and is credited with doing more to unify North American taxonometric knowledge than any other naturalist.
“Gray’s School and Field Book of Botany” is an introductory text on the subject of Botany and is structured as a series of thirty-four lessons. The lessons proceed from the general context of Botany within the larger field of Natural History, through basic growth stages of plants from seeds to buds, branches and into the morphology of roots, and leaves. Unlike the representational basis of books like Ruprich-Roberts and Owen Jones, Gray’s Botany sought to present the inner structures and inner workings of plants, from rootlet to sepal, not simply appearances but analysis of stages of growth, associated structure and reproduction. Gray’s book is simply illustrated with line-art engravings of both pictorial and analytical diagrams pertaining to the subject under discussion. This relative simplicity is appropriate to the clinical approach to flora and stands in contrast to the stylized fully-rendered illustrations in other publications thought to be critical sources for Sullivan’s ornament such as “Flore Ornamentale” by Victor Ruprich-Robert, or “The Grammar of Ornament” by Owen Jones. By comparison, the other text referenced by Sullivan in “A System”, Edmund Wilson’s book, has few illustrations and is written for the advanced student of cellular biology and genetics.
One wonders what Sullivan saw in these books. Asa Gray’s book would have been a long-standing companion, familiar since his attendance at English High School. This familiarity makes Gray’s book a more likely influence for Sullivan during the formation of his thoughts and execution of major commissions than Wilson’s book (1896), which wouldn’t be published for another thirty-nine years. Though Wilson’s lectures, the basis for his book, were first publicly presented in 1892, his books 1896 publication date places it after the Auditorium, Stock Exchange, Wainwright and Guaranty buildings were completed. This publication date rules out “The Cell in Development and Heredity” as a key source for the origin of Sullivan’s ornament, leaving it perhaps as an affirmation of the inter-relationship between inorganic, geometric forms with strict axis and perimeter rules, and the organic, which during cell division become geometric. Perhaps this is what Sullivan is alluding to when he writes on Plate 5 of “A System”, “The Advanced Student who wishes to investigate the power that antedates the seed-germ (which in reality is a sort of embryo) is referred to that remarkable work by Professor Wilson “The Cell in Development and Heredity”.”
Sullivan’s Ornamental Form Types
Sullivan employed a limited set of ornamental forms across his almost-fifty years of practice. This can be attributed largely to the limited number of locational conditions presented by design and building practices between 1883 and 1924. These conditions are generally described as:
• The incremental articulation of a line.
• Punctuation of a either the beginning or end of a line.
• The construction of a frame.
• The construction of a surface.
• The punctuation of a point on a surface.
Given this limited set of design conditions, Sullivan employed three basic forms of ornament (Figure 1):
• The Medallion or geometrically (biaxially symmetric) structured type (Figure 1).
• The “Urpflanze” proto-plant or Root-Stem-Bloom, an axially structured type? (Figure 2).
• The Still-life type or “Arabesque” as Riegl calls it, a space-filling type (Figure 3).
 (Left to Right) Medallion Type, Urpflanze Type, and Arabesque Type Ornament
Source: Author.
The medallion type is characterized by its symmetrical rotation about a center. After 1888 this seems to be Sullivan’s view of the plant in plan view, the same view Riegl refers to as frontal view. The medallion type seems to mature during the auditorium theatre, and is present as the spiraling leaf ceiling panel found in the main lobby, the panel also used by Frank Lloyd Wright as the in the corners of the living room ceiling at his Oak Park house in 1888.
---
7. Sullivan, *The Autobiography of an Idea*, 1956, 207. Sullivan himself describes this form-type as a building-as-ornament proposition in this passage from “The Tall Building Artistically Considered” addressing the tripartite composition of the tall building: “They quote the suitable flower with its bunch of leaves at the earth, its long graceful stem, carrying the gorgeous single flower. They point to the pine-tree, its massy roots, its lithe, uninterrupted trunk, its tuft of green high in the air. Thus, they say, should be the design of the tall office building: again in three parts vertically.”
The root-stem-bloom or axially organized type, is characterized by the relation of the ornament parts to a vertical axis and is often botanically accurate with root mass at the bottom, stem structure in the middle, and bloom structure(s) in the upper portion. This is similar to the “primal plant” or “Urpflanze” proposed by Goethe\(^8\) (Figure 3). These root-stem-bloom or axially organized ornaments often articulate anatomical components from botanical sources. The articulation of root, stem and bloom structures makes this ornament, Sullivan’s view of the plant in elevation view, referred to by Riegl as the profile view. These ornaments originate with the root structures and the cotyledon or “seed germ” as Sullivan called it in “A System.” Leaf, bud, and axillary bloom structures are arranged on either side of the stem/axis and a terminal bloom is frequently placed at the upper terminus of the axis. This ornament type does not appear to play a role in the conversion of ornamental structure to architectural works for Sullivan who’s
---
works seem more focused on the medallion type later in his life, Frank Lloyd Wright however, seems to exploit this ornamental type as the basis for many of his “Prairie” houses from 1909 until his “Usonian” houses of the 1920’s.
(Figure 4).
Figure 3. (Left) Goethe’s “Urpflanze” Proto-Plant Sullivan, (Right) Jeweler’s Root-Stem-Bloom
Source: (Left) Wikimedia Commons (Right) Author.
Figure 4. (Left) Frank Lloyd Wright’s Bradley House (1900) Plan (Right)
Sullivan, Sullivan’s Merchants National Bank, Grinnell
Source: Author.
The still-life type is characterized by carefully composed writhing organic elements structured by their enclosing frame. The term “still life” has been used in painting to describe an arrangement of objects since the 15\textsuperscript{th} century BCE. Like the still life in painting, which emerged as a recognized genre in the 17\textsuperscript{th} century,
---
Sullivan’s still life is carefully composed arrangement of natural objects/ motifs. Riegl’s term for this is “The Arabesque” and explanation of the development of the vegetal tendril in early Islamic art offers important insight into this most complex of Sullivan’s ornamental forms. Riegl proposes that the development from representational sculpture to artistic interpretation of nature occurs at the moment that the line is employed to describe the edges of the sculpture. He proposes this is the moment of birth for the line, and from this point forward, the line becomes the primary problem-solving tool of the artist constructing ornament. The complex overlay of tendril, leaf, and bud forms in Sullivan’s still-life ornament serves to carry the eye across the surface, rising, falling, pausing, moving counter to the primary direction often until our eyes return to the point of entry. Examples of these still-life floral arrangements can be seen throughout Sullivan’s projects beginning as early as 1882 in the Hammond Library gable ornament. The still-life is frequently found in places where the irregular surface spaces required ornamental development. Some examples would be, in console shaped brackets (Figure 5) concealing asymmetrical gussets, lunettes, chimney panels and spandrels. The still-life may have been the ornament most frequently designed by Sullivan himself as the more-simple medallion and root-stem-bloom types can be substantially constructed with mechanical means and don’t seem to require the consummate judgement of rhythm, line, balance and tension required by the still-life.
Figure 5. The Still-Life Type, the Arabesque
Source: Author.
The still-life is one ornamental form that Sullivan may not have entrusted even to the accomplished Frank Lloyd Wright in his role as Sullivan’s apprentice. Perhaps the only apprentice to approach Sullivan’s genius with the still-life is George Elmslie. Even with Elmslie’s accomplished skills, the still-life ornament attributed to him by Paul Sprague often favor the powerful tendril, overcoming the other elements and not achieving the delicate movement, pause, counterpoint and balance present in the still-life ornament designed by Sullivan’s own hand.
The medallion and root-stem-bloom ornament types were used as both isolated figural ornaments, and in parallel patterns articulating mass edges such as cornices, arch intrados, and stringcourses.
A Closer Consideration of Sullivan’s Medallion Ornament Type
Because Sullivan’s medallion-type ornament seems to play an essential role in the translation of scale from object to the building scale in Wright’s and also in Sullivan’s later works, this section will consider the type in greater detail.
The medallion ornament type is distinguished from the root-stem-bloom and still-life types by a strong visual reinforcement of the center and elements rotated about that center in a radial arrangement resulting in biaxial symmetry.
The medallion form type of ornament is the example used by Sullivan uses to present the morphological development of ornament in “A System of Architectural Ornament.” The circle, square, octagon, hexagon, pentagon and triangle are presented, as Sullivan has termed, the “containers of energy” - flower pots into which the seed germ (cotyledon) is placed at the very center. The seed develops according to its laws of plant morphology (as described by Asa Grey), but the seeds growth follows along the lines of the major and minor axis of the container’s geometry, with the axis acting as a geometric trellis. As the organic energy grows along the axis, it breaches the container’s perimeter at the point where the axis crosses the perimeter. At the site of this breach, the organic energy (implicitly contained in the geometric container) bursts outward, depositing itself on the surface of the geometric container as vegetal efflorescence (Figure 6).
In labeling this explosion of energy ‘efflorescence’ - that which is within, deposited on the surface, Sullivan proposes, without words, that the inert, or crystalline nature of geometric forms contain within them great quantities of a vital organic energy. Not a fractal similarity where a square contains the energy of more small squares, but contains the opposite. Geometry, rationality contains the organic, the emotional.
These organic bursts of efflorescence are described by Sullivan as sub-centers of energy. These sub-centers effectively bind the concentric overlays of geometry together weaving over and under each geometric layer and ultimately reaching beyond the ornamental frame to bind the ornamental element to its background.
In “A System” Sullivan also refers the reader to “Grays School and Field book of Botany”\textsuperscript{14} by Asa Gray, as his definitive source for scientific information on plant physiology and growth morphology. Gray provides a morphological explanation of the anatomy of various types of plants and flowers following the stages of growth. Sullivan’s ornament seems to depend upon a few key anatomical parts, the seed germ with its nourishing cotyledon leaves, the stem, with its
\textsuperscript{14} A. Gray and A. Gray, Gray’s School and Field Book of Botany: Consisting of “Lessons in Botany,” and “Field, Forest and Garden Botany” (New York: Ivison, Blakeman, Taylor & Co., 1874).
terminal and axillary buds, and the calyx or flower cup below the bloom and the corolla, or the bloom itself.
Gray illustrates these anatomical parts in plan, section, and elevation views. Upon close review Sullivan’s (1891) Schiller theatre proscenium medallion, the “Star Pod” reveals five to six concentric forms originating in the medallion center.
The first (1) is an undulating line of varying thickness that closely follows the radially arranged seed pods. This undulating line overlaps a hexagon (2) and is raised a very slight amount above it. The undulating line is unusual in that it is made up of broad areas of undeveloped surface similar to the next three concentric elements (3,4,5). The lack of surface articulation, the close mapping of the undulations with the seed pods, and the additional concentric layers possess a striking similarity to Gray’s illustration of a Linden calyx from figure 223 on page 109 the radial arrangement of the seed pods around the central axis (placenta) is also similar to the cutaway of a St. John’s Wort calyx shown in figure 256 on page 118 of Gray’s text. Grays figure 256 shows this radial arrangement in a partial cut-away that confirms this is a plan view cut through a calyx. The undulating lines are the enclosing tube of the calyx surrounding the seeds. A similar relation between undulating line and seeds arrayed around an axis can be observed by making a horizontal cut in a green or bell pepper (Figure 7).
Gray also presents the spiral as nature’s way of packing leaves within buds, vernation. The paired and single spirals are presented using Carl Linneaus’s original figures 153, 154, 155 on page 76. The spiral in the context of vernation within buds is a strong symbol of potential energy during the unfolding of the leaf upon the bud’s opening and is often used by Sullivan in the early period to energize the ornament. In the second and third period medallion types, the spiral becomes a secondary and tertiary concern as the integration with geometry stabilizes many of the ornamental compositions. In what I am calling the “still life” and “root-stem-bloom” ornament types, the spiral is frequently used near the perimeter and ends of lines to continue the impression of energized growth.
Figure 7. (Left) Asa Gray’s Illustration of the Seed Pod Cut Horizontally, (Right) Sullivan’s Schiller/Garrick Theater “Star Pod” Ornament
Source: (Left) Figure 223 from Asa Grays 1880 publication “Grays School and Field Book of Botany” (Right) Author.
The close correspondence of ornamental parts with plant anatomy suggest that the increasing naturalism cited by Sprague was due in some part to Sullivan’s close reading of Asa Gray’s 1880 publication “Gray’s School and Field Book of Botany.”
**Energizing Strategies**
Conceptually, one might consider Sullivan’s medallion-type to be very similar to the classical rosette as an ornamental form. In Early works, such as the Halstad Flats, (1884) Sullivan employs the lotus flower as a singular element and as a definition of the geometric center of a larger ornamental field. This more visually “static” medallion falls out of use in Sullivan’s medallions by the mid-1880’s. From the mid-1880’s on, Sullivan seems to be exploring various approaches to increase the visual energy of the medallion. I categorize these approaches as follows:
- Energized emanations
- Spiral rotation
- Wind Swept
- The Pulsar
- Ready-to-burst
Each approach seems to have been favored by Sullivan for various lengths of time. Perhaps this is an indication of his satisfaction with the success of the energizing strategy, or of its potential for development. The number of medallion-type artifacts available for study in either as physical or photographic form is small enough that these categories cannot be considered the full extent of Sullivan’s approaches.
**Energized Emanations**
The chimney panel from the 1884 Reuben Rubel residence (Figure 8) combines two forms of tendrils to enforce the energized center of the panel. The uppermost layer of tendrils emanate in sinuous curves across the major spiral below. This is one of the only examples of an energized tendril emanating from the center used by Sullivan. The tendril itself is un-natural in appearance, originating from an impossibly narrow taper on the surface of the low-domical form at panel center, then contorting through seven undulations and terminating with a narrow taper very similar to the tendril’s origin. This “narrow origin to narrow terminus” may have been seen by Sullivan as an unsatisfactory signifier of the reservoir of energy at the panel’s center.
Wind Swept
As if the base spiral, corner spirals and emanating tendrils in the Rueben panel were not enough, Sullivan adds a field of wind-swept palmette-leaves at the bottom of the panel that confirm this is an elevation-view of the energy-center. These leaves sweep up and towards the center of the major spiral but originate at the bottom of the panel, competing with the center itself as the source of energy. Like the previously discussed approach, the wind-swept energizing approach appears to have been short-lived in Sullivan’s work.
Spiral Rotation
In this early period, 1873 - 1890 Sullivan employs the spiral as a form of vernation in an effort to infuse life into the ornament by suggesting the spiral’s uncoiling. From 1890 through 1905 the spiral becomes a minor structure, used to fill small areas. Geometric elements dominate the medallion structure during this
period. This is interesting as the circle, square, octagon and hexagon are forms that have a strong sense of visual stability, inherently lacking the dynamism of the spiral.
The Rubel house is characteristic of the early period of Sullivan’s ornament in that the spiral is a frequent subject of the ornament. Beneath the emanating tendrils discussed above lies a large spiral, articulated with a series of spirally concentric segments. In nature, one might find this form common to the fiddleneck fern, so named for its similarity of appearance when emerging from the ground to the neck of a violin. The spiral presents the appearance of potential energy, just as a coiled spring does. The Rubel panel has four symmetrically arranged spirals spinning out from beneath the center spiral bringing energy to the corners of the panel, and a tension to the static masonry elements framing the panel edges. The spiral structures in the 1886 Eda Holzheimer ceiling escutcheon (Figure 9) are more deeply integrated into the structure of the whole than the Rubel panel. This may be related to this escutcheon having been designed to be viewed from below, rather than from the side. The fixture held the escutcheon center, and the four corner spirals spin off from a tendril that attaches itself, not quite tangent to the center. Each corner spiral has a pair of smaller serpent-like tendrils on its surface, emanating from the corner spiral’s center itself. Filling between the corner spirals on the orthogonal axis of the escutcheon are spiral palmettes whose origins are unclear. They seem to emerge from the plaster ceiling itself, between a tangle of minor tendrils filling the field between corner spiral and center; whatever their origin is, three segments of these spiral palmettes terminate emphatically in spherical objects. Overall, the similarity in size between the center, the spirals falling at the corners and those falling on the orthogonal centerlines of the escutcheon eliminate the chance for a simple hierarchical reading of the escutcheon. The overall impression is a dense mass of energy generally originating at the point (the leak) where the light fixture pierces the plaster ceiling, an approach to efflorescence not seen again until the design of the Farmers and Merchants Bank at Owatonna twenty-one years later.
Figure 9. (Left) Edith Holzheimer Ceiling Escutcheon (Right) Farmers and Merchants Lightolier Escutcheon
Source: Author.
The spiral structure appears again in the door panel for the 1885 Samuel Stern Residence. Like the panel at the Rubel Residence, this is intended to be seen in elevation. In this door panel, the spiral is not apparent as a form, rather it appears as a structure in the left-hand bud overlap on the leaves. Were it not for these volute-shaped bud structures, the leaves located on and favoring the diagonal axis would propose a static composition. Below the leaves and emanating directly from the lotus flower in the center are frond structures that meet the flower off-axis to suggest another spiral direction. The significance of this door panel lies in its being the earliest example of Sullivan employing a spiral structure without making the spiral fiddleneck fern.
The surviving physical and photographic record of Sullivan’s ornament suggests that Sullivan seldom used the spiral as a major ornamental subject following their role Auditorium Theatre as ceiling panels. These panels were intended to be viewed from below and like the Holzheimer ceiling escutcheon are likely to have been escutcheons for light fixtures meant to be viewed from below. The spiral is clearly presented by sweeping tendrils and leaf-structures from the tangent of the center out away from the center to unfurl at the corners of the panel. This approach to bringing the energy from the center to the corner, then ending it with unfurled leaves is the most successful of the spiral medallion series as it presents energy and reinforces the center with a single tendril developed in high relief, and with great detail that assists one’s eye in travel from the corner edges around the spiral to the center. The orthogonal centerline/edge intersections are present, but with low relief, thin tendrils, clearly conceding the stability of the panel to the center to corner spiral. The panel is bordered with stable orthogonal cruciform shapes visual stabilizers of the edge which are frequently overlaid by both the low-relief spirals and leaf elements from the high-relief tendrils. Thus, the resolution of the tension between the stability of the square panel, and the dynamism of the spiral is further decided in favor of the spiral.
It is interesting to note the context of the disappearance of the spiral as a primary figure in Sullivan’s approach to energizing the appearance of the medallion-type ornament. The completion of the Auditorium building in 1889 seems to mark a significant decline, virtual disappearance, of the primary spiral in Sullivan’s ornament. The spiral did not re-emerge again until 1907 in the office annex for the Farmers and Merchants Bank in Owatonna Minnesota. This was George Elmslie’s last project with Sullivan, and in letters to the Bank’s owner, Carl Bennett, Elmslie clearly stated his primary role in the design of the bank and its details. If this late re-appearance of the spiral is credited to Elmslie one could conclude that the disappearance of the spiral from the “ornament record” after the Auditorium reflects some disappointment or some perceived shortcoming of the spiral by Sullivan to adequately reflect the energy within a building.
The Pulsar
In the 1890 Getty Tomb (Figure 10), Sullivan stretches a fabric of octagons across the face of the tomb, providing a scalar measuring unit to preserve the whole. The octagon is present as a geometric container. Within its perimeter, lines of spheres extend along the orthogonal and diagonal axis from the center to the octagons eight flat sides. The spheres diminish in dimension from center to edge, reinforced at the center with a solid mass and increased depth of the relief. The scale change in the diameter of the spheres provides a diminishing incremental scale for our eyes reading of the distance between center and perimeter. The scale increment makes the overall perception a series of concentric pulses emanating from the center. These pulses end at a low-relief inner bordering octagon inscribed within the high relief perimeter of the octagon. The only dynamism in this ornament is found in this concentric pulsing from center to edge.
The Pulsar and the Analytical Plan
During this same time period (1892-1895) anatomical elements and structures themselves appear as the symbol of nature’s dynamism in medallion-form ornament from the St. Nicholas Hotel, Schiller Theatre, and Guaranty Building. Asa Gray’s text seems to be an important source during this period, as neither Ruprich-Robert, Owen Jones, or Christopher Dresser penetrates the surface appearance of their plant subjects to reveal the anatomical structure of the plant.
Gray’s text goes so far as to title lesson 13 as “The plan of the flower” and proceeds to illustrate the seed pod much as an architect might, cutting plans-horizontal sections through the seed pod to present the relationship of the seed clusters to the central axis and to the surrounding enclosure of the pod (calyx) itself.
The previously discussed Schiller Theatre Proscenium ornament, (Figure 7) referred to as the “Star Pod” is a prime example and is perhaps the most literal
reference to the plant cut in an architects plan view. If Gray’s Botany is
discounted, this clinical dissection of a seed pod seems to be an unprecedented
ornamental subject. More importantly, is this act of presenting what was within the
plant, not its outward appearance an affirmation of a principle that values what is
within, equally with the outward appearance of things? Critics of Jordy’s stature approached this question, but made their critique expecting the substance “within” to be the constructive means of the building. Their critique adequately identifies the shortcomings of such an approach based on false pilasters, exterior columns disappearing as they approached the earth, etc. But if the “within” was the collected energy of the spirit of the building filled with people then the outward appearance would be more focused on presenting this energy rather than the constructive means of the building. The analytical plan of the plant, as ornament seems to be completely unique to Sullivan, and may be the key to the parallel between his ornament and buildings.
“The Cell in Development and Heredity” by Edmund Wilson, 1896 was the only other book recommended by Sullivan in “A System of Architectural Ornament.” Wilson’s book was considered the standard text for its time in the rapidly emerging field of cellular biology. But beyond the facts and principles related to cell development and genetics, what was Sullivan’s interest here? Certainly, this microscopic scale of nature was not easily observed by Sullivan, though the confirmation of an internal intelligence held at the cellular level in chromosomes must have been interesting to Sullivan. But what does Wilson contribute to form, structure, and order, Sullivan’s core questions?
I propose that the geometric clarity that emerges during cellular division as illustrated by Wilson is one such contribution. The fusion of the geometric and the organic is only possible at that moment when the organic submits to a geometric order, during cellular mitosis. Conceptually, this may have been equal to the “rule having no exception” stated by Sullivan’s mathematics tutor in Paris, Monsieur Clopet dramatically recalled by Sullivan in “An Autobiography of an Idea.”
Wilson’s diagram of the protoplasmic cell-connections, circular nuclei embedded in the center of hexagons in a matrix held together by “fine bridges” that connect the nuclei to nuclei is a compelling prospect as a source for Sullivan’s ornament (Figure 11).
Had Wilson’s book been published prior to 1896, one would be tempted to propose that Sullivan had been inspired by this diagram in making the hexagonal pulsar-network across the surfaces of the Getty Tomb. It would even be tempting to consider that somehow Sullivan had heard Wilson’s lectures in 1892 perhaps accompanied by sketches or diagrams and been inspired to the Getty ornament.
20. Ibid, 249.
The facts do not allow for such speculation however, as the Getty tomb predates even Wilson’s lectures by two years.
Wilson’s book and illustrations must have been a strong affirmation in Sullivan’s rule-having-no-exception, the inter-relationship between the organic and inorganic (being the symmetries that occur during cellular division) for him to have cited it in “A System” but there is no evidence in his ornament to support its role as precedent.
![Figure 11. (Left) Edmund Wilson, Cell Development and Heredity (Right) Stained Glass Soffit Pattern, Stock Exchange Trading Room by Sullivan
Source: (Left) Edmund Wilson's 1896 Cell Development and Heredity (Right) Author.]
Ready-to-Burst
Discovery of the correspondence between biaxial symmetry during cellular division and his own observations of nature’s process for ripening and releasing seeds from spent flowers seems to merge in the next set of Sullivan’s medallion-type ornament dating between 1890 and 1893.
In the “Curve of the Arch: The Story of Louis Sullivan’s Owatonna Bank” Author Larry Millett noted “His best buildings seem almost to pulsate as the ornament dances along the surface, bringing the block to life. And yet the ornament is always contained within the larger framework of his buildings. This quality of barely contained energy, which Sullivan described as “mobile serenity,” is the hallmark of his ornamental style.”
In this passage, Millett describes the purpose of the ready-to-burst approach to energizing medallion type ornament, to barely contain energy as though it would burst out of its terra-cotta and iron container into a burst of efflorescent growth at any moment.
Beginning with the medallion from the elevator enclosure at the Chicago Stock Exchange (1890) (Figure 12), one can observe that the vegetal elements of the ornament project from its surface in a roughly circular field. These projecting elements fill arc sections between the perimeter circle and the inner square
providing the impression that the circle is actually spherical and is pushing through and around the square. To emphasize the immanence of the sphere’s bursting, Sullivan restates the square, this time rotating it within the inner square. Within the rotated square is an element defining a circular field. Arcs tracing oval shapes fill the circular field are oriented along the primary (orthogonal) axis of the circle. The effect is suggestive of a sphere, emerging from the inner square, a sphere, ripe with seeds that is beginning to crack (oval shapes) to release its seeds. In this process of being deformed, the square is transformed from the inorganic form of the crystal to an organic membrane on the verge of rupture by an irrepressible life force behind it. This form, (the square, deformed to the brink of rupture by the life-force) found as both a square-origin and a rectangular-origin is, as Millett suggests, a representation of the linking of the organic and inorganic.23
Figure 12. Portion of the Elevator Surround, Stock Exchange
Source: Author.
23. Ibid, 82.
The ornament from the corner columns of the Meyer Building (1893) similar deformed square element in the major ornament. This ornament is actually a partial sphere projecting from the surface of the square vegetal field. The sphere is cracked open like a ripe seed pod along the lines of arcs forming overlapping squares with corners extended into spurs (or Wilsons “fine-bridges”) making what Sprague has called these deformed squares, “shield-like” forms. The spurs can be seen two ways, one, as strong points of attachment for the square that is being distorted by a force behind it, trying to push through the center of the square, so the spurs are merely corners distorted by the strong force behind the square. Another possible reading is that the square is growing on the center axis, and is itself reaching with its corners to ultimately cover the organic elements of the ornament. The arcs made between a fibroblast cell’s anchor points are very similar to the curved lines used to suggest spherical shapes in drawings.24
The idea that the building was alive, producing buds, seeds in pods ready to burst required Sullivan to “enter into communion with living and lifeless things.”25 This belief, stated by Sullivan in “A System” is the next step forward from the anthropometric treatment of the facade at the Auditorium.
Methodology: Comparative and Figural Analysis
After drawing the plans and sections of the following case study projects, chosen for their identical banking typology these Sullivan designed commissions, dating from 1907 to 1914 Sullivan’s last set of commissions, a geometric and axial analysis was conducted to find correspondences with the generative principles of ornamental design articulated by Louis Sullivan in his 1924 publication “A System of Architectural Ornament According with a Philosophy of Man’s Powers.
Mapping those correspondences with color upon plans and sections revealed both a relationship to the “Plate 1 Development of the Blank Block” from “A System” and to the primal plant in frontal view, the Urpflanze or Root-Stem-Bloom structure employed by Sullivan from his earliest to his latest works.
Numerous publications authored by Sullivan himself, architectural critics and architectural historians informed the likelihood of correspondences which have been heretofore undocumented in the Sullivan literature.
Rules for the Medallion-Type, Plate 1, A System of Architectural Ornament according with a Philosophy of Man’s Powers
It is the thesis of this paper that Plate 1 of “A System” is the closest exemplar of Sullivan’s process for the conversion of ornament into building. Plate 1 graphically describes eleven steps to transform a square “blank block” into a fully
developed ornament. These steps are not described by Sullivan in the text or captions, but will be generalized here to aid in the analysis of the building plans. Sullivan’s steps proceed to develop both the organism and the supporting axial trellis’s guiding its growth. The trellis development proceeds from the perimeter toward the center, while the organism develops from the center toward the perimeter. Sullivan shows eleven steps towards the completion of the medallion. Completion appears to be a state of balance between articulation of the supporting geometric trellis, and the organisms’ full utilization of the same.
The development of the square to a fully effloresced ornament is generalized as follows (Figure 13):
Step 1: The blank square block.
Step 2: A concentric square is developed at the perimeter.
Step 3: The primary (orthogonal) and secondary (diagonal) axis appear and distort a second concentric square with an inflection at the primary axis intersection, tapering toward the center.
Step 4: A third concentric square, very close to the second is developed, the space between the second and third concentric square is depressed slightly as to “float” this third square.
Step 5: This third concentric square is anchored to the corners of the second by lines extending from the corners (forming squares themselves) to the inside perimeter of the second square.
Step 6: A rotated square is developed, with sufficient dimension as to have the four corners extend slightly under the axial distortions developed in Step 3.
Step 7: The perimeter of the third concentric square is raised so that the corner lines developed in Step 5 extend fully around this third concentric square. Another rotated square appears, slightly smaller and on the surface of the rotated square developed in Step 6.
Step 8: Diagonal axis are developed by a “bow-tie” element which is effectively a rectangular membrane, pinned at the corners, and pushed with a spherical object from behind, a variant on the “stressed” square membrane in the “ready-to-burst” medallion type. The “bow-tie” is positioned between the raised perimeter of the third concentric square and the lower rotated square developed in Step 6. The “bow-tie” is connected back towards the center with a line.
Step 9: A fourth concentric square is developed. It is positioned between the first and second concentric squares developed in Step 1 and 2. This square is effectively a pair of thin lines, anchored at the corners with square holes. The border around the third concentric square developed in step 7 is raised, and the inside edge of the second concentric square are stepped deeper into the base block.
Step 10: A circle is developed, subtracting mass from the second rotated square. The axial distortions developed in Step 3 are raised above the surface of the raised perimeter of the third concentric square and above the surface of both rotated squares. The effect is to make these axial distortions the “clasps” that hold the third concentric and both rotated squares to the surface while the
tapering-toward-center form of these distortions focuses one’s eye on the center circle. A border of square holes is developed in the width of the fourth concentric square developed in Step 9.
Step 11: This step is captioned by Sullivan “No. 11 represents No. 10 developed with increasing freedom, but still largely in the mechanical mode. Beginning Appearance of the imaginative Element.” (punctuation added).
Step 11 can be generally described as infilling and elaborating the void spaces between the concentric and rotated squares. The border of square holes in the fourth concentric square described in Step 10 disappears, and is replaced by the fourth concentric square developing as a frame profile, raised above the surface of all the elements, including the blank block from Step 1. The corner developments are a miniature whole ornament with two concentric squares, a central circle subtraction, diagonal “bow-tie” elements oriented with their long axis parallel to the diagonal and acting as the clasps holding all the geometries together. The center is developed as four oval shapes arranged in a cruciform with their long axis parallel to the primary (orthogonal) axis of the larger whole.
Figure 13. Illustration of Steps 1 through 11, Plate 1 of “A System”
Source: Author.
To study the building as ornament speculation, Sullivan’s eleven-step process has been simplified to the following:
Step 1: Establish the base block, the primary geometric container as the exterior perimeter of the dominant building mass. Draw the primary (orthogonal) and secondary (diagonal) axis.
Step 2: Overlay the secondary and tertiary concentric geometric containers. As defined by the building mass, teller wickets, light fixtures, skylights or other architectural elements.
Step 3: Where the primary (orthogonal) axis intersects the geometric containers (primary, secondary, or tertiary) identify the architectural elements holding the place of efflorescent bursts. These may be ornamental wickets, vaults, entry portals, murals, art glass windows or skylights.
Step 4: Where the secondary (diagonal) axis intersects the geometric containers (primary, secondary, or tertiary) identify the programmatic elements holding the place of efflorescent bursts. These may be the president’s office, the men’s exchange office, the women’s exchange office, the book vault, safe deposit booths, secure stairs to lower levels.
Building as Ornament: Three Case Studies
Considering the methods and morphological stages described in Plate 1 of “A System” one can propose a rational/mechanical development of Sullivan’s ornament, and thus a foothold for developing a building plan and section according to similar morphology. Consider, for purposes of this proposition, the development of the plans and sections for three commissions from Sullivan’s late period: The National Farmers Bank at Owatonna Minnesota, completed in 1907, The Merchants National Bank in Grinnell, Iowa, completed in 1914, and the Farmers and Merchants Union Bank in Columbus, Wisconsin completed in 1919.
While these case studies are all of the same typology, the rural bank, and are all rectangular or square in planform, the plan form is not given by the site in the case of the National Farmers bank, as a small office space was also constructed on the site, but site geometry was a primary factor in the plan form of The Merchants National Bank, and the Farmers and Merchants Union Bank, where lot size and geometry constrained Sullivan’s choice of footprint.
Similarly, the rural bank as a typology did not impose a plan form per se upon Sullivan. The functional needs for the rural bank, teller line, vault, lobby and officers’ spaces were the same as in most small town banks, but Sullivan’s deployment and treatment of these functions was not limited by established typological norms.
The plan geometries themselves, while being reducible to similar subdivisions and unitized proportions as those seen in J.N.L. Durand’s “Précis of the lectures on architecture”26 have been developed by Sullivan with his unique attention to both the geometry of the primary enclosure and the development of sub-geometrical elements within, in both plan and section. An approach to geometries uniquely applied by Sullivan and his assistants.
A more exhaustive analysis could include all of Sullivan’s commissions. Indeed, Jordy’s diagrams of the primary facades of the high rises and banks tempt a speculation that at some point in time, Sullivan perceived the two scenarios for the building as an organism.27 In one scenario, the base of the building is considered to be a planter, the seed-germ is planted at the center of the planter, just below the surface, and the building above is considered the stem and blossom growing through a trellis-framework of steel columns and beams. In this scenario the first two floors, as the planter are filled with fine roots, delicate ornament, while the upper stories are made up of more coarse stems, shoots, leaves, buds and seeds (columns, spandrels and cornice).
In scenario two, Sullivan proposes that the basement is the planter and the seed germ is planted below grade. The stems emerge, climb to their maximum height and have a more uniform scale of surface refinement. The buildings constructed by Sullivan in scenario two are more fully integrated, have less contrast in scale, form, material, and color between the bottom and the top. Jordy
comes close to making similar speculation, but stops short, perhaps a victim of his own expectations for Sullivan’s work.
A preliminary grouping of buildings in each scenario may be:
Scenario One buildings:
Schlesinger-Mayer
Guaranty
Van Allen Store
Peoples Savings & Loan
National Farmers Bank
Peoples Savings Bank
Farmers and Merchants Union Bank
Gage Group
Bayard
Union Trust
Meyer Building
Getty Tomb
Scenario Two buildings:
Wainwright
HomeBuilding Association
Merchants National Bank
In each scenario, the upper portion of the building represents a life-force emerging from the seed-germ planted somewhere below as explained by Sullivan in “The Tall Building Artistically Considered.”
Case #1: Farmers and Merchants National Bank, Owatonna, Minnesota 1907
The sixty-eight-foot square footprint of the outside dimension of the primary banking mass of the bank provides a “blank block” point of beginning for the plan (Figure 14). It is important to note that the actual site dimension is greater along Broadway, almost one hundred and thirty feet, so the sixty-eight-foot square dimension can be understood as an intentional act on the part of Sullivan and conceivably, his longtime associate, George Elmslie. Variations in wall thickness between the exterior walls facing the street and the party walls make an initial disruption in the formal clarity of the plan-as-ornament. Two additional rectilinear, almost within square, (18 to 20 inches) geometric containers of energy are developed concentric to and within the primary container, the building enclosure. The secondary container is the main banking room. It corresponds to the space defined by the walls of the farmers exchange, women’s banking room, savings department teller’s enclosure and bank officer’s desks.
The tertiary container, within the main banking room is the space defined by the art-glass skylight. It defines the center of the main banking room and can be considered to be the efflorescent burst occurring when the vertical axis intersects the building envelope.
The Primary (orthogonal) axis center on the sixty-eight-foot exterior dimension. Major architectural elements are located at the points of intersection between the axis and the primary, secondary, and tertiary geometric containers. The burst of efflorescence that occurs at the site of an axial rupture of, what in Plate 4 of “A System,” Sullivan called a container of energy is developed as four
great arches. The arches falling on the intersection between the horizontal and vertical axis at the party walls contain murals, while those falling on the intersection between the axis and street-fronting walls contain art-glass windows. The walls of the primary enclosure are recessed slightly within a larger edge frame, separating one wall from the other. The arches are further developed with an additional stepped chamfer, which magnifies the architectural presence of the arch in the wall.
Where primary axis ruptures the secondary enclosure, the perimeter of the main banking space, with organic energy growing from the center outward, efflorescent bursts can be found in the form of the heavily ornamented tellers’ wickets and vault enclosure and as the heavily ornamented entry portal.
In this, most of his other buildings, the diagonal axis plays a secondary role organizing functions, not quite as important as those falling on primary axis, vault, main banking space, and entry, but more important than those occurring in the annex and basement level. In this bank, those functions falling at the street-front adjacent to the entrance are almost square in form. The functions falling on the diagonals may be indicators of stage of developmental accomplishment and problems faced by Sullivan (or Elmlie) as they continued the development of building as ornament. In the National Farmers Bank, the pragmatics of spatial function are seldom sacrificed by the architects in favor of achieving formal clarity. A notable exception to the prosaic role of the diagonal axis in this building can be found where the diagonal intersects the square skylight. At the site where the diagonal axis intersects the tertiary container of energy described by the skylight, four cast-iron electroliers burst down from the ceiling plane. A wisp of plater ornament is found at the site of each electrolier’s penetration of the ceiling, a clear indication that the architect’s considered the building’s fabric to be filled with organic energy, waiting to burst forth.
In Plate 1 of “A System,” (Figure 13) Sullivan begins with the container of energy, develops a trellis made from orthogonal and diagonal axis, then plants the seed germ. If the sixty-eight-foot square planform is the container of energy, and if the seed is planted in the plan center, where is the seed germ in section?
Figure 15. Farmers and Merchants Bank Section Showing the Center (Seed Germ) Located at the Horizon between the Pragmatic (Lower) Banking Functions and the Ideal (Upper) Ornamented Volume
Source: Author.
The bank is forty-nine feet high overall, if we draw a square, aligned with the cornice top, we find the horizontal centerline of the square falls precisely at the top of the green terra-cotta band that is the cornice for the president’s office and the upward limit, the horizon, for all of the banking floor functions, and the is the elevation where Sullivan, or more likely Elmslie planted the seed germ (Figure 15). This horizon recognized the formal rules of the sixty-eight-foot square plan, but not the essential act of the bank, the transaction, the moment when the customers trust was extended to the teller by passing their hard-earned money to the teller across the countertop deal plate.
Case #2: Peoples Savings Bank, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, 1911
The building is a rectangle 90 feet long and 56 feet wide. It appears that the program required filling most of the available lot length and width, perhaps an initial limitation of Sullivan’s choices for the formal clarity of the perimeter geometry.
This ungainly 1:1.6 site-driven building footprint may have provoked Sullivan’s development of the geometric containers from center to perimeter, rather than the perimeter to center approach used at the Farmers and Merchants Bank in Owatonna. This difference of approach was detected after numerous attempts to construct diagonals, squares, collections of squares from the perimeter rectangle and find consequential alignments with edges of spaces, major architectural elements, and major functional elements.
The primary elements of this building are its distinctive four chimney-pier elements and setback clerestory mass. In the plan, the chimney-piers carry through
the main banking floor and define the corners of the main banking space. The vault falls on the center axis between the chimney piers and the entry portal falls on the opposite end of the axis. Three ornamented light fixtures also fall on the central axis (Figure 16).
The concentric rectangular spaces defined by the inside and outside edges of the masonry chimney-piers (as is the case with Frank Lloyd Wright’s use of masonry piers) are considered the primary and secondary geometric containers respectively. This conclusion is supported by the correspondence of the setback mass of the art-glass clerestory above. Given this, the location of the vault and entry portal can be considered as efflorescent bursts occurring where the axis ruptures the primary and secondary geometric containers.
Three ornamented columns fall on either side of the central axis making four equal spaces between the chimney-piers. Two additional columns fall just inside the entry portal and support an ornamented drop beam that traces the ceiling line of the higher art-glass clerestory above. Three ornamented light fixtures fall on these column lines where they cross the central axis.
The chimney piers themselves are efflorescent bursts from the rupture of the innermost geometric container by the diagonal axis. While the rupture of the secondary geometric container falling at the back-face of the piers produces the square spaces on either side of the vault, the safety deposit desks and the book-vault/stair. At the building front, flanking the entry portal, the square-space efflorescent bursts are the men’s and women’s exchange spaces.
Source: Author.
Because most of the main floor architectural elements fall upon or are located in response to the central axis, vault, lights, check stands, entry portal, column and chimney-piers, this main floor plan is more strongly related to the root-stem-bloom ornament (frontal view of the primal flower/Urpflanze) type. In this formulation, the root is identified with the men’s and women’s exchange rooms, the stem with the entry portal, columns, light fixtures and clerestory, and the bloom with the
vault. These correspondences of elements to axis, do not explain the exterior massing decisions made by Sullivan. The extreme verticality of the chimney-piers and visually clumsy proportion between the setback art-glass clerestory and the habitable base of the bank are not explained by the root-stem-bloom axis.
An extended speculation would be that this root-stem-bloom structure is simply the base layer, the operational/pragmatic layer and that the four corner piers are so strongly stated with the setback clerestory because this upper, uninhabitable space is an additional layer. If true it would be, similar to the upper portion of the Farmers and Merchants Bank, a more ideal zone where the formal clarity of the elements is unimpeded by pragmatic functions. If this is the case, these small bank commissions would have a stronger link to the lineage of the Schlesinger - Meyer and Gage Building with their root-bound flower pots as the first floors, and their foliage developing unhindered on their steel trellises. The center, the place where the seed germ is planted in Plate 1 of “A System,” of a square between the corners of the chimney piers, aligned with the top of the ceiling falls at the base of the teller wicket, at countertop height. (Figure 17) The distinction between this bank at Cedar Rapids and the Bank at Owatonna is that the height where the seed germ is planted at Cedar Rapids falls precisely at the height of the deal plate, the countertop where the exchange between the customer and teller takes place. A functional center, not a formal center.
Figure 17. Section through Peoples Savings Bank, Showing Square Geometry Bound by Inner Faces of Piers and Ceiling, and Center Falling on the “Deal Plate” or Place of Exchange with the Bank Tellers
Case #3: The Merchants National Bank (1914)
This building is approximately 40 feet wide at main facade by 72 feet long by 35 feet tall. The public banking space between tellers is 15 feet wide by 34 feet
long by 24 feet tall. From basement floor to roof is almost 44 feet. The skylight itself is 45 feet long and 13 feet wide.
The Merchants National Bank in Grinnell, Iowa is similar to the Farmers and Merchants Bank in Owatonna, and the Peoples Savings Bank in Cedar Rapids in that it is a one-story-plus-basement building. Like these other banks, the Merchants National Banks main banking space is a double height space. As one enters the space, the main architectural elements are the ornamented cornice flanked by two piers with terra-cotta planters at the safe deposit teller and vault, the art-glass skylight, the art-glass window on the right side and six suspended electric lightoliers, three on each side of the skylight. Within the public banking space, the circular window over the entry portal, the clock in an ornamental ceramic surround, and the projecting entry portal itself are the major architectural elements.
Figure 18. Peoples Savings Bank, Developed according to the Axis/Container Approach Used by Sullivan in Plate 1 of “A System”
Source: Author’s diagram overlay on the Peoples Savings Bank Plan presented in the authors copy of the western architect v.23 1916.
Like the Peoples Savings Bank, major architectural elements are arranged along the long axis extending from the entry portal to the vault. The cross axis is only presented by the art-glass windows facing the side street. The piers with terra-cotta planters flanking the ornamented vault cornice reinforce the termination of the public banking space. One can see the structure of this axis and termination being a root-stem-bloom form-type with the entry portal again playing the role of the efflorescent burst as root, the public banking space articulated by both the art-glass skylight and the six suspended lightoliers as the stem, and the ornamented cornice-pier combination as the efflorescent burst at the end of the interior axis as the bloom. Where this axis punctures the perimeter, the exterior entry ornament stands as a major deposit of efflorescence on the surface of the exterior container of energy. The diagonal axis holds four corner spaces that are secondary or supporting spaces to banking activity. The upper left diagonal efflorescence is a toilet. The upper right is a stair from the bookkeeper’s space to the basement, the
lower left diagonal efflorescence is the women’s room, and the lower right diagonal efflorescence is the directors and consulting room (Figure 18).
All three of these case study banks considered to this point both make strong distinctions between what has been called the “zone of the pragmatic” where people inhabit the space and what has been called the “zone of the ideal,” located above this inhabited functional space populated with architectural elements such as light fixtures, skylights, and murals all located according to Sullivan’s principles as described in Plate 1 of “A System” The Merchants National Bank (1914) is different in that the distinction between the upper and lower zone is not readily apparent on the exterior. Unlike the bank in Cedar Rapids, that makes the distinction with a significant massing articulation, or the bank in Owatonna that makes the distinction with a color, texture, scale, and material change, The Merchants National Bank only distinguishes the upper from the lower zone with the window head at the director’s office and the window sill of the art glass window facing the side street. Because of this one could consider the design more unified than the previous examples.
Were it not for the strong articulation of an interior cornice at approximately nine feet above the banking floor one could assert Sullivan is making a new proposition about the whole-ness of the Merchants National Bank. Testing the section to find the height of the seed-germ above the floor one finds there is no corresponding square aligning with the ceiling height as there was in the Cedar Rapids bank. The extreme length of the skylight seems to disrupt the interior ordering of both the formal logic of the section and insofar as the skylight corners extend one panel beyond the location of the lightoliers, it disrupts the formal structure of the zone of the ideal as well.
The two squares that can be made in the section between the edges of the underside of the art-glass and the surface of the floor overlap an equal amount as the two larger squares that can be drawn by extending forty-five-degree diagonals from the building enclosure towards the center. That these squares below the skylight appear to have no other architectural consequence makes them insignificant at best, and at worst they weaken the formal structure of the whole.
Forty-five-degree diagonal lines extended from the corners of the building perimeter align with the corners of the skylight. Extended to the perimeter wall, these diagonals intersect at the centerline of the overall building perimeter. If the suspended lightoliers had fallen at the corners of the art-glass skylight, they might have been considered efflorescent bursts of the seed germ growing from the center of the skylight along the diagonal axis of the skylight. As the six lightoliers fall slightly within the length of the skylight they must be considered either markers of another structure, or more likely indicators of the pragmatic necessity to distribute electric light equally across the banking room. If this is the case, it would stand as a corruption of the zone of the ideal and as such, might serve to further strengthen the assertion by Morrison, Andrews and Jordy who cite a reduction of Sullivan’s powers during this time period.
Results
These observations on Sullivan’s medallion-type of ornament revealed a partial set of the strategies being used to infuse inert material with an irrepressible life-force. The role of analytical representations of botanical anatomy by Gray has shown that “plan” “section” and “elevation” were not terms simply reserved for design and construction of buildings, but could be applied to living organisms in order to better understand the complex inner workings of things we know primarily by their exterior appearance. The incorporation of geometrical forms and gridlines into Sullivan’s terra-cotta herbarium gave, or was, a set of miniatures that allowed him to develop the relationship between the rational means of building and the celebration of the energy expended in service of a larger enterprise by the people within. These low-risk experiments began to expand in scale in the Wainwright and Guaranty buildings as expressions of vertical growth and internal vitality, not as expressions of the skeletal means of construction. The tall buildings designed by Sullivan were simply planters with a cage of vertical, horizontal and diagonal trellis supports within.
But ultimately, how important was it that the buildings conform to the formal methods used by Sullivan to develop ornament? Did the buildings have to meet the rule with a level of precision that may have compromised convenient use of the bank?
These three brief studies of the Farmers and Merchants Bank, the Peoples Savings Bank, and the Merchants National Bank have provided the opportunity to speculate that Sullivan was indeed following the principles for ornament described in “A System” when he designing the plan and section for these buildings. These studies have also made it possible to speculate, that like the burst of efflorescence at the entrance to the Merchants National Bank, Sullivan may have been working with the principle of layers as found in the ornament. A mediating layer in plan or section made up the difference between dimensional needs for specialized activity or the limitations imposed by lot proportion and more idealized proportions for the “containers of energy” that were typically arranged as concentric forms originating in the public banking space. These mediation layers seem to be always separated vertically from an upper zone of the section by a defined interior cornice line or horizon that was frequently emphasized on the buildings’ exterior with massing or material changes or the alignment of window heads and sills. In this way the whole of the public banking floor could be considered, in section, to be a mediating element of the ornament whose purpose is to meet the program and prepare the ground for the seed-germ. The horizon where the seed germ was planted seems to vary, and this may be the key weakness of the “building-as-ornament” proposition.
It seems clear that Sullivan (or equally likely, Elmslie) distinguished between the lower and upper space in the Farmers and Merchants Bank on the basis of the formal geometric aspects of the building. (68-foot square plan, 34-foot upper zone,
29. Ibid, 208.
half the cube) It also seems clear that at the Peoples Savings Bank, Sullivan positioned the interior horizon at the deal plate - plane of exchange between teller and customer, but the exterior massing suggests the upper zone only encompasses the clerestory. In both these banks, the presence of the murals, idealized representations of the countryside and the values promoted by the banks (orderliness, industriousness, tranquility) and the relatively few functional expectations for the upper zone supports the speculation that these upper portions of the space were the place of the ideal, while the banking spaces below the horizon of the interior cornice lines were places for more pragmatic concerns. The combination of these two zones as an integrated whole would seem to epitomize Sullivan’s declared ultimate goal of architecture, the fusion of opposites through the interplay of organic and inorganic elements.
It seems clear that as long as Sullivan could consider the building envelope and the perimeter of the public space as inorganic containers of energy, and that at each axial puncture of a container a burst of vegetal ornament could be made, he could build ornament at the scale of building.
But the break with principle at the Merchants National Bank weakens this argument. It seems that had the skylight been one panel shorter at each end, the light fixtures would have taken their logical place as bursts of efflorescence at the end of the diagonal axis extending through the skylight corners. But they don’t. Was this an error, compromise or was Sullivan just enjoying the ornament without the baggage of perfecting the whole?
These observations categorized the development of Sullivan’s approach to expressing what he called “LIFE”30 in the medallion-type of ornament as the spiral, energized emanations, wind-swept, the pulsar and ready-to-burst. These observations conclude with the role played by the ready-to-burst approach to the medallion-type and the root-stem-bloom form type in some of his later projects.
These three case-study projects succeed in mapping functions and architectural elements as major and minor bursts of efflorescence according to the principles of development articulated by Sullivan in Plate One of “A System.” But ultimately Sullivan was unable to fully translate the organic element of his ornament to the scale of building. This and the relatively modest scale of his last commissions prevented even the full development of formal clarity in the inorganic elements when scaled-up to the building as a whole. In the struggle between the inorganic and the simply pragmatic, the pragmatic governed, often to the detriment of the clarity of the whole building scheme.
Conclusions
Still, Sullivan’s efforts to “enter into communion” with and express the life within his buildings designed between 1890 and 1922 remain as critical examples of, as Sprague describes, an architecture both rational and vital.31 His work remains as the prototype of “building-as-organism” that underpinned the most
significant revolution in space and form in American Architecture to date, the Prairie Houses of Frank Lloyd Wright.\footnote{O’Brien, “Learning from Lost Wages: The Necessity of Design Research…A Historical Account of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Search for Voice,” ARCC 2019 Poster.}
**Bibliography**
von Goethe, J. W. *Versuch die Metamorphose der Pflanzen zu Erklären* [Attempt to Explain the Metamorphosis of the Plants.] Gotha: Ettinger, 1790. |
5-2018
Layout and Animation Development for the Animated Short *Making Friends*
Daniel Edward Raitz
*Clemson University*, deraitz@gmail.com
Follow this and additional works at: https://tigerprints.clemson.edu/all_theses
Recommended Citation
https://tigerprints.clemson.edu/all_theses/2876
This Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by the Theses at TigerPrints. It has been accepted for inclusion in All Theses by an authorized administrator of TigerPrints. For more information, please contact kokeefe@clemson.edu.
Abstract
Cinema is the result of crafting an illusion, an acknowledgement of character and art that works to convey meaning to its viewer. The audience recognizes the work to be fiction but still interprets meaning through abstraction. Animation is a cultivation of this applied abstraction to the art of film. As the evolution of traditional art transformed itself from realism into abstraction, animation picked up the torch and pushed the movement onward. Radically changed in the early and mid 1900 by Walt Disney Production, Warner Bros., and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer; animation styles shifted to emphasize characters over abstraction, character being any object that possesses ethos, pathos, and a touch of logos. Inspired by and building on ideas of an earlier and simple 2d production, the animated short, Making Friends, implements specific film techniques and animation techniques based on the study of great filmmakers and their methods. The visual narrative that is strengthened by the fusion of these two driving forces. Adapting widely appealing shots from several established directors, the recreation of the story, Making Friends, told through a new medium and enhanced layout, creates a captivating story for viewers to enjoy, while conveying fundamental human themes in a compact form.
Artistic Statement
As an artist it is important to know and to measure one’s own growth in artistic ability. Animation is a transformative and demonstrative medium of story telling and has the ability to capture the measurement of growth I seek. My hope is to use story telling as a device to draw the attention of the viewer internally and to address one’s own prejudices as I have over my years of growth as a person. People have the terrible ability to be quick to judge, projecting fear and hate toward individuals just like themselves. My hope is to use animation as a device to present difference and demonstrate the evils of prejudice. Making Friends was originally a 2D short I created in 2012. With limited tools, knowledge, and skill, I was not happy with my telling of the story. Today I recreate this short with the knowledge and skills I have gained. The short focuses primarily on character animation and camera layout, with shots influenced by the suspense and anticipation Steven Spielberg depicts in his film, Jurassic Park, with the pacing and visceral action of director Quentin Tarantino, as well as the heart warming storytelling and spirit of Miyazaki films. The objective is to let the camera and the two characters, a robot and a dinosaur, tell a story of making new friends in a harsh situation. The short is a demonstration of thinking without recourse, forgiveness, and re-evaluating one’s motivation. While one of our characters succumbs to their own nature, our jealous and enraged robot, the other shows optimism and forgiveness in qualities exuded by man’s best friend, dogs. Animation and character influence comes from one of my favorite animated films of all time, Toy Story. The choice to move the short from 2D to 3D comes from my personal attachment to the ability for a camera in 3D space to create suspense and motivation for the viewer, acting as the unseen observer. The short directs the attention of the viewer internally, to convey that sometimes human nature makes us quick to judge and act; to make the best of situations in which we feel rejected or saddened as we should seek to understand the bigger picture.
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this project to my family, to whom which none of my being here or my bright future would be possible. To my little brother Dylan Raitz, who I deeply regret will never get to see my success but never doubted how far I would go.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my committee members, Professor David Donar and Professor Tony Penna, for guiding my creative process in my time here at Clemson. From making animated shorts of dancing politicians to creating a rock concert light show, their methods of teaching have always captured the fun and creative side of their studies. I would like to thank my committee chair, Dr Eric Patterson, who first put me on the path into Digital Production Arts. Without his initial guidance I would have never found my way to Clemson University. My experiences here at Clemson have only fueled my desire to entertain and create, while their teachings have sharpened my skills and knowledge of the career path I am set to take.
I would also like to thank my dear friends of the Digital Production Arts lab, who without my sanity surely would have snapped. My colleagues have helped me cultivate my art and without seeing their work and own drive, I might not have pushed myself as far as I have. Collaboration is the essence of film making and animation and I am honored to have worked with them.
I would like to thank Pallavi, without whom I would not have survived my final year as well as I have. Thank you for cheering me on when I thought less of myself than I deserve.
# Table of Contents
Title Page ......................................................... i
Abstract ......................................................... ii
Artistic Statement ........................................... iii
Dedication ....................................................... iv
Acknowledgments ............................................. v
List of Figures .................................................. vii
1 Cinema ......................................................... 1
1.1 The Art of the Camera ................................ 2
1.2 Animation ............................................. 7
2 Narrative Design ............................................. 12
2.1 Story ............................................... 12
2.2 Characters .......................................... 13
2.3 Story through Camera and Animation ............... 22
3 Production Process .......................................... 40
3.1 Pre-Vis .............................................. 41
3.2 Modeling ............................................ 42
3.3 Rigging .............................................. 45
3.4 Layout .............................................. 47
3.5 Animation .......................................... 48
4 Results and Conclusions ................................... 50
Appendices ...................................................... 52
Bibliography ................................................... 58
## List of Figures
1.1 *Come Along, Do!* (1898) exhibiting the example of both continuity editing and wide angle establishing shot method of early narrative filmmaking ........................................... 3
1.2 *His Gal Friday* (1940) shows the subjects each hold a specific position in the frame relative to each other and it is not disturbed from shot to shot ........................................... 4
1.3 This shot from the film, *2001: A Space Odyssey* (1968), demonstrates the points of interest along the rule of third guide lines ............................................................. 5
1.4 *Cabinet of Dr Caligari* left its mark in cinema for its unique mise-en-scene and use of high key lighting ........................................................................................................... 6
1.5 Scene from *Jurassic Park* in which the victims and camera are chased by the massive and terrifying Tyrannosaurus Rex ............................................................................. 7
1.6 A still from *Steamboat Willie*, second sound and animation synced film, Disney’s first major success ............................................................................................................. 9
1.7 The first commercial color film, *Silly Symphonies: Flowers and Trees* .................. 9
1.8 *Luxo Jr.*, the first major success for computer graphics driven animation ............... 11
1.9 This shot from the animated film, *The Incredibles*, demonstrates the matching of a camera in 3d space and using basic cinema principles to drive the camera work ........ 11
2.1 The differences between two lions to convey distinct external characterization ........ 14
2.2 The influences for the original design of Friendbot .................................................. 15
2.3 Original design featured in the 2012 version ................................................................ 15
2.4 The influences for the new design of Friendbot3000 ................................................. 16
2.5 Facial features to convey emotion of the Iron Giant were studied for implementation of Friendbots face .............................................................................................. 16
2.6 Friendbot300 derives from many influences but stems from the idea of a toy best friend 17
2.7 Final design of Friendbot3000 found in the animated short .................................... 17
2.8 Reptar, the original Dino’s inspiration ...................................................................... 18
2.9 Dino design in the original short .............................................................................. 19
2.10 The influences for the redesign of Dogosaur .............................................................. 20
2.11 Dogosaur is a mix of cute and cuddly as well as toothy and deadly ......................... 21
2.12 Final implementation of Dogosaur ........................................................................... 21
2.13 Shot 1 and 2’s introduction to character and environment ...................................... 22
2.14 The shot from the original of Friendbot looking past the camera, no additional animation in the shot ......................................................................................... 23
2.15 Shot 4 framing and animation .................................................................................. 24
2.16 Shot 5, a slow push in on the dino as the focal point of Friendbot ....................... 25
2.17 How the camera was handled in the original short, it pans across passing the dinosaur and then snaps back just before he exits frame for a comedic effect ............. 26
2.18 Friendbot’s original cut to anger, which was juxtaposed with his external thought bubble of dino and the scientist becoming friends, the original shorts source of Friendbot’s feelings of rejection .............................................................. 27
2.19 the start on the static camera leaves the same mood as shot 4 with similar framing but the camera cuts in for an extreme close up to then show the swift change in Friendbot’s emotions .................................................. 28
2.20 A snap zoom can help assert focus and gives a visually stunning impact compared to just a cut ................................................................. 29
2.21 Stills from Toy Story that match some of the expressive characteristics and framing from Making Friends ................................................ 30
2.22 The snap zoom’s execution from shot 7 in Making Friends .................. 31
2.23 A still from Jurassic Park demonstrating a frame within a frame within a chase sequence using the chasers legs ........................................ 32
2.24 Stills from shot 8 that exhibit the attempted recreation of the shot from Jurassic Park 32
2.25 The breakdown of the animation in shot 9 ........................................ 33
2.26 Shot 10’s punch animation landing directly into the camera as Dogosaurus PoV . 34
2.27 Shot 11 the results of Friendbot’s punch .......................................... 34
2.28 A breakdown of shot symmetry starting and ending the punch sequence in Making Friends .......................................................... 35
2.29 Shot 12, the defeat of Dogosaur .................................................... 36
2.30 Original take on the action sequence from the original short .................. 37
2.31 A still from Jurassic Park showing the source of inspiration for the final framing of shot 13 in Making Friends ......................................... 38
2.32 Breakdown of shot 13, leading to the climax of the short ...................... 39
3.1 A page from the first thumbnailed storyboards, the start of the process for mapping the animated short ................................................. 41
3.2 Demonstrating the blocking and polishing process of Friendbot3000 ........... 43
3.3 Demonstrating the blocking and polishing process of Friendbot3000 ........... 43
3.4 Demonstrating how smoothed algorithm works on the mesh .................... 43
3.5 Maya Orthographic view as well as displaying a mesh ready for duplication across axis x and z ................................................. 44
3.6 Demonstrating the modeling process taken with the torso ....................... 44
3.7 Demonstration of painting skin weights to specify deformations during animation . 46
3.8 Controllers and Joints aligned without the mesh present ....................... 46
3.9 Demonstrating the use of composition to draw the eye to the subject in early layout stages ................................................. 47
3.10 Showing the camera in the Maya file amongst the animation in shot 7 ...... 48
3.11 The graph editor displays the keyframes, the black dots, along with the interpolations, the lines ................................................. 49
3.12 Demonstration using controllers to pose the arm ................................ 49
Chapter 1
Cinema
Cinema is one of the grandest and widely consumed arts of the modern era as well as being one of the youngest. Not many art forms can be easily accessed and enjoyed from the comfort of one’s own home nor are as socially common as gathering friends for a night at the movie theater. The art of filmmaking has only been in existence since the late 19th century and has undergone a massive amount of change in that time. Capturing images on film at a rapid speed in order to create the illusion of motion was such a strange concept that audiences did not know how to react properly to what was being witnessed on screen. It was such a novel idea that the concept of using it as a story telling mechanism did not come into play until the technology had already been around for more than a decade. The narratives of these times are drastically different from modern film, much like the start of Egyptian sculptures, they were flat and symmetric in the beginning, the films took on aspects of flat space, wide angle, and one shot basis. Into the evolutions of Hellenistic and Greek sculpture, taking on dynamic poses and the struggle of man, cinema too adapted to a level beyond what its creators could imagine. A large contributing factor to this was technology and the camera itself. Early models were bulky and could not be moved easily once set up. As the technology advanced, so did the art. This itself is the ultimate culmination of the idea of animation; as technology advanced so did the art form of animation, up to the point of now, where it is possible to create animation with the skills and knowledge of a handful of programs. [1]
1.1 The Art of the Camera
Cinematography is the essence of film as an art. Staging, framing, depth, balance, it is simply the presentation of an image, but it is how one presents that space to the viewer that is important. The intricate rules may make the art form seem technical, but the representation of the narrative in a frame is one of the most expressive aspects of a film as art. The adaptation of this branch of art has undergone a rigorous evolution that has captivated the world. The art of the camera is subliminal, with most viewers barely recognizing the framing and movement of each shot, if the cinematography is done correctly. Bad cinematography is starkly apparent to the viewer. Effective technique has been developed by generations of cinematographers and directors who have created a foundation for modern cinema to rest upon. [1]
One of the first concepts to narrative filmmaking that developed just before the cusp of the 20th century and revolutionized film was the idea of continuity. Continuity editing is broken into two basic rules, temporal continuity and spatial continuity. Temporal continuity is the concept of a sequence remaining in a constant chronological pace, meaning actions are unlikely to repeat in separate shots but also connect continuously. Spatial continuity requires objects in frame to remain in the assumed third dimensional space they were designated in the first shot they were represented; in context, a character, if established on the right of an object should only be shown on the right of that object unless a change stems from the camera moving. The first film to hold to this style of editing and narrative filmmaking is Come Along, Dol!, a silent film crafted in 1898 by director Robert W. Paul. The prior stated camera set up is also exhibited in this short film featured in figure 1.1 demonstrating the wide shot encompassing both subjects. [12]
Soon camera technology started giving the ability to innovate more unique and narrative driven shots. The camera became mobile, and the artists and directors working on the film could take the camera to different parts on set and frame the characters uniquely to the action on stage. The wide establishing shot was still relevant for creating a sense of space, but then framing gave directors artistic freedom. Having the ability to frame a subject created a new plethora of new artistic cinema. This moved away from traditional theatre staging and allowed the camera to be a better silent observer. If a character was given something in one shot, the film could then cut to a closer shot allowing the actor to act to the gift more personally and display it for the audience. Framing an individual certainly is not a arbitrary task in narrative filmmaking, it requires a sense of purpose. The example given demonstrates a purpose, the character is given something, and the audience expect some sort of reaction so revealing the character’s face in a medium to medium close-up is anticipated. Alfred Hitchcock was one of the masters at framing his films. He had a clear rule on how objects and subjects should be framed. He believed objects should have their relative size in any given frame match their weight in the story of that scene. While this rule applies throughout his films, it also echoes throughout modern cinema today. [2]
As film techniques progressed, more rules for camera work were developed by directors and became the working formula for camera work. A more common rule that is not as noted by audience members included was the 180-degree rule. The concept is simple enough, once a shot was estab-
lished with subjects, an imaginary line was drawn across the ground where the camera should not cross. The rule helps keep subjects on the same side of the frame from all future angles if the rule is followed. Keeping characters in the correct sides of the frame lends itself to spatial continuity. It is jarring and confusing to audiences when a character is seen on the right of the frame and to another subject, and then in the next shot seen on the opposite. Without the character physically walking to a different spot in the frame of a continuous shot, the audience will find the subjects movement abrupt. If the rule is followed the viewer should almost never notice, if it is broken the viewer will certainly notice. This continues to reinforce the camera as the silent observer that makes the art subtle to the audience. Figure 1.2 demonstrates the cross cutting of shots using the 180-degree rule.
Figure 1.2: *His Gal Friday* (1940) shows the subjects each hold a specific position in the frame relative to each other and it is not disturbed from shot to shot
Framing is also important for guiding the viewer’s eyes to where they need to go. It is much easier in a scene for the viewer to look at what is intended to look at when it is larger on the screen. If a character’s subtle facial expression is important, cut to a close up to let the character’s face dominate the screen. This is not the only way to guide the viewer’s eye, but it is an effective spoon feeding method. Composition is the dominate point in focusing the viewers attention. It is a combination of many rules, including the rule of thirds and golden ratio. Rule of thirds has dominated film composition since almost its birth as it was a guiding force in photography, the father of cinema. Plainly stated the rule of thirds divides the camera frame into a grid of nine equal rectangles, each line placed one third of the way across the frame vertically and horizontally. Figure 1.3 conveys the idea here, along with the concept of balancing a frame. While the rule of thirds is a good guide line
for framing a shot, it should not override the balance of a shot. If a character is featured towards one side of the frame balancing is more important that placing the character on the thirds. Placing a character closer to the center for balance is completely ordinary and done regularly, the importance is to give the character room for direction. [4]
Figure 1.3: This shot from the film, *2001: A Space Odyssey* (1968), demonstrates the points of interest along the rule of third guide lines
Composition evolved in the early twentieth century as narrative filmmaking moved into its own medium of art. As mentioned, most staging done in early narrative film was much like a theatre stage. Characters faced towards the camera with flat backdrops with basic framing. Where composition was an imitation of other mediums, it soon created its own need for new artistic vision. A notable movement towards this direction was the German Expressionism movement of the 1920s. With the films, *The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari* (1920), *Nosferatu* (1922), *Metropolis* (1927), new boundaries were pushed. Not only was the staging taken differently but the mise-en-scene of shots were pushed to an extreme as they broke away from flat backdrops. Mise-en-scene is a French expression meaning "visual theme" used to describe the design of the set or background as well as the composition itself. The movement also established the use of lighting as a tool for composition similar to framing. Lighting helps mold the frame further into guiding the eyes and constructing the scene’s mood and balance. These elements are easily seen in figure 1.4, making the film one of the most notorious of the movement. While the movement did not last long, it left an everlasting mark on cinema that would help continue it along, with one of the largest takeaways being the evolution
of composition that became a technique for conveying meaning and visual delight. [11]
Figure 1.4: *Cabinet of Dr Caligari* left its mark in cinema for its unique mise-en-scene and use of high key lighting
Remainder are still plenty of rules to examine, the last basic tool to explain is the motivation to move the camera. A camera that moves without motivation undercuts its own story-telling mechanism. Sometimes this is done on purpose, like in Michael Bay movies. Bay uses it to disorient the viewer and constantly keep a moving pace of the action. However, it also undercuts moments he could use the movement of the camera to create more impact or an exciting moment for the audience. A director or cinematographer must ask themselves why does the camera need to move for the chosen shot, what does it add to the story or telling of it? Just like lighting contrast, movement contrast can add to a film’s story. If the camera is locked in every shot prior to a move, the moving shot will stand out more to the viewer and create stark contrast from that shot to its prior shots. A movement can make a statement that enhances the flavor of a shot and the feelings of the viewers. If one character is chasing the other, the camera can follow the chaser, thereby making the camera also chase the victim. The opposite is true as well, if the camera is with the subject being chased but keeps the chaser in its view, the camera is then being chased. This technique can create a unique subtext to the film that viewers may not notice but certainly feel. *Jurassic Park* (1993) set a precedence for integrating CG vfx in shots. In a particular scene, the film pulls off a chase scene much like the one described when characters in a car must run from a rampaging and hungry computer generated Tyrannosaurus Rex. Figure 1.5 is a screen shot from this scene. The
camera stays with the jeep throughout the scene to make the viewer feel like the chased victim as the lumbering giant chases them down the path. This entire sequence mixed CG vfx and animatronics near seamlessly to captivate the audience as they themselves feel chased. [10]
Figure 1.5: Scene from *Jurassic Park* in which the victims and camera are chased by the massive and terrifying Tyrannosaurus Rex
With the basics understood, framing, staging, continuity, 180-degree rule, and motivation for movement, a technical look can be had at the foundation to creating a film. Many viewers understand these techniques without actually knowing them, as regular viewers of film will know when these rules are broken because of our innately developed sense of space and time. Implementation of these and the clever use of either following or bending them is what great cinematographers and directors do. The art of cinema is truly crafted when an individual or group understands the elements and nuances of telling a story through film, and the conglomerate force of filmmaking is pushed to beyond the realm of what has been done before. Films forged new intricacies as technology allowed and a similar pattern was also set in the development of animation over the 20th century.
1.2 Animation
Animation is a reflection of film that has broken free of the naturalistic template and convention. If cinema is a body then animation could be best described as the shadow it casts, a
rendering of reality with near unexplainable proportions and feats all while maintaining an illusion of life. While animation was technically developed earlier than cinema with a couple of inventions like the magic lantern and thaumatrope arriving in the 1800s giving the illusion of motion, the peak of animation would not arrive until film gave it a new medium. The process of projecting images on celluloid at a high speed to convey motion was the key take away for animation from early film, to portray the illusion of life. This would not be the only thing animation would take away from film; the two would feed into one another for the next century and continue growing and pushing each other further than they had ever been imagined. [6]
Walt Disney was a pioneer of innovation for animation, not for being the first to create an anthropomorphic character animation, but for progressing the art and reaching broad commercial success. Much like the process of filmmaking, projects needed to be marketable to continue, and Disney’s second studio was able to do just that. Character animation was given new life as viewers enjoyed the antics of the famous mouse, Mickey Mouse, making music in *Steamboat Willie* (1928), beginning the Golden Age of Animation. This era included not only a plethora of characters and a synchronization of sound and animation, something never done before. Disney found out a key process in the making of an animation to be recording sound prior to animation as he suffered much difficulty syncing the music to the animation, which became the standard after his revelation. It brought color to animation as well, with the cartoon series that came after Walt Disney’s new direction of sound and animation, Silly Symphonies. These events would influence the developing animation pipeline that would be forged over the coming years. [7]
Figure 1.6: A still from *Steamboat Willie*, second sound and animation synced film, Disney’s first major success
Figure 1.7: The first commercial color film, *Silly Symphonies: Flowers and Trees*
The development of a production pipeline is crucial to the speed at which animation is created. A streamlined guide to creating all the characters, poses, backgrounds, and shots, would need to be created in order to best follow the visual development and planned narrative. When everything costs money in a production, leaving little to chance was the goal of animation studios. A pipeline involves all the macro and micro facets of pre-production art, like visual design, character development, storyboards, layout, voice recordings and song recordings, leading into production which heavily relied on the animators, finally into ink and painting, compositing, and additional sound. Disney’s ability to create the first forms of these pipelines led to the studio's success and the creation of other animation studios like Warner Bros, and ultimately the process animation would take in modern day. [3]
Animation has always adopted properties of traditional cinema as it grew and adapted. First it focused on character with gags and unrealistic antics. It then added new layers of setting, backdrop, and traditional layout, giving a place for these characters to act. Finally as the development of computer graphics enabled animation to forge into the 3d world, no longer was the illusion of depth dependent primarily on environment artists, the art of the camera could be more easily and powerfully applied to the world of animation.
Pixar Animation Studios would mirror the success of Disney Animation’s *Steamboat Willie* with their CG animated short *Luxo Jr.*. Demonstrating the power of computer animations, John Lasseter became a hero for showing the lamp character who won the hearts of everyone attending SIGGRAPH in 1986. Just as Mickey became the icon for Disney, Luxo became the mascot for Pixar. Paralleling Disney’s choice to experiment with animated shorts, like *Flowers and Trees* and *The Old Mill* (1937), before taking on a full feature film, Disney’s *Snow white and the Seven Dwarfs* (1937), Pixar would go on to produce several shorts before its attempt at a feature length movie, developing the tools and strategies needed to create a great feature film. [10]
Teaming up with Disney Pixar produced the first ever fully computer graphics generated animation, *Toy Story* (1995). This film established that CG films were possible and could captivate audiences. 3D space was no longer an illusion and could be used just like live action to tell a compelling story with characters as wonky and weird as they come from the animation side. It was the ultimate cross over and gave life to a new wave of cinema. The familiarity of 3D space and ages of camera work cultivated into one of the strongest forms of expressive film art. Soon other CG animation studios would crop up and add to the growing art as it paved its way to modern day. DreamWorks Animation studios, Blue Sky Studios, and the now popular Illumination Studios, all came to the table to join Disney and Pixar in the plethora of entertainment that 3D animation has become. [10]
Chapter 2
Narrative Design
Story is the basis of all film and is of the utmost importance. The narrative of Making Friends is an original concept of the author. The characters, while extravagant to the world of the viewer, are based around two simple character archetypes: a boy and a dog, translated into a robot and a dinosaur. The concept of the story is broken down into a classical story arc with elements of setup, conflict, climax, resolution that almost all film follows.
2.1 Story
The setup is dedicated to the robot and his emotional void that he exhibits externally. Simply put our robot is jilted from his expulsion as a child’s best friend. The robot laments over their relationship though a series of pictures that help the viewer digest the exposition. The setup portion of the story is a challenging part as the child character is only seen though the series of photos and must establish a working relationship with the one character seen thus far. The series of four photos show the growing separation between the two characters, while also conveying the child’s love for dinosaurs through his unrelenting attachment to a stuffed dinosaur figure seen in every photo. Ultimately this division of the child’s affection results in the conclusion of the robot characters state of current being.
The conflict of the story arises as the robot peers off into the distance to fixate on a far off character that resembles the dinosaur toy the child held in all four photos. This creates a link not only for the robot but for the viewer, to target the robot’s new found jealousy into abundant rage.
The robot’s saddened visage evaporates into anger as he charges at the dinosaur without caution, and eventually when the dinosaur acknowledges the robot’s approach, he is met with the robot’s fist. Celebrating his victory for only a brief moment the robot plunges through pride into fear and shock as the dinosaur gets back up and now seeks vengeance. This rise of conflict is chosen as the center piece to this animation as the most time and work were put into this area to create an exciting conflict to solidify the attention of the audience, the process is described in a later section.
Now that the dinosaur knows the robot is a threat, the climax begins as he retaliates with action. The robot loses all composure of confidence as the dinosaur now approaches with malicious intent. The Dinosaur charges and knocks the robot on his back, as the robot brings his arms up to defend himself the dinosaur bites down on his arm and pulls it right out, stepping back and whipping it from side to side, much like a dog with a toy.
With his arm removed the robot bolts up to keep his attention on the dinosaur who now locks eyes with him again. The dinosaur drops the arm as he inches closer, but instead of a second attack the dinosaur opens his mouth and licks the robot across his face while wagging his tail. The robot comes into slow consideration of his situation and realizes he has made himself a new friend.
2.2 Characters
The characters of a film are of the highest importance in regards to the interaction of the viewer and the art. They give the emotional connection needed to create an engaging and compelling storyline. The characters are who the audience roots for, to overcome their challenges, to go to the brink of everything they stand for and return, or at least when the story has a happy ending. Characters must typically fulfill their own arcs, grow to what the situation demands in order to achieve what they desire. The audience thrives off the satisfaction of the character obtaining their desire. This concept holds true in almost all cinema, from Dorthy and Todo overcoming the grip of the Wicked Witch in *The Wizard of Oz* (1939), to Martin Brody’s want to stop a vicious man eating shark in *Jaws* (1975), and even to the desire of John McClane to take down and kill Hans Gruber in *Die Hard* (1988). The characters wants must become clear to the audience and drive to the story. [9]
The recognizable goals must be involved into the characters appeal. In the art form of film, very little is left to chance. If a character must appeal as a rugged and independent character, they
would not be dressed as a depended well groomed character. The quality and appeal of character is sought after even more so in animation, the character must look the part of its ethos. The essence of this characterization is pushed by artists to a grand scale. The characters will manifest the attributes into their form, greater pushing their own personality into the physical embodiment of their character. The advantage of this not only plays a part in younger audience’s understanding a characters role externally but allows the artist to add finesse to a character not always obtainable in a live action film. Figure 1.2 highlights the difference between two lions from the Disney movie *The Lion King*(1994) and how their external aesthetics lend to their characterization. [5]
(a) Mufasa is larger with a large rounded mane, conveying aesthetics of a leader
(b) Scar is thinner with a slicker fine haired mane, conveying aesthetics of a villain
2.2.1 Robot: Friendbot3000
The robot character, nicknamed Friendbot300, is a combination of many different references. The main purpose of his appearance is to give the viewer a human like character to interface with. His emotions and desires are immediately surfaced from the beginning of the short by his humanly recognizable features. His design style is appealing due to the nature of his form. His basic shapes comprise of cylinders and spheres giving him a soft roundness to almost every feature of his body. His eyes are large and round with a jaw that already curves up into a smile by default. These features add to his appearance as a friendly character. The story behind the character is he a robot produced to become friends, hence the name itself, Friendbot3000. The tag to his name, 3000, is a throw back to the older science fiction movies, as if he is a product in a series of Friendbots.
His original asthetics are based on older blocky robots from 1950s and 1960s sci-fi movies, like the images in figure 2.2. This design was meant to be stiff and rigid but holding a vintage feel
as this version of the robot was created by a mad scientist. The shape and stiffness worked for the original short as it lacked heavily in animation talent, but needed to be reworked for the new version of the short. A need for a neck, posable arms and legs that were more closely related to human anatomy, and a soft body gut for spine movement was taken into consideration in the redesign for the new Friendbot
Figure 2.2: The influences for the original design of Friendbot
Figure 2.3: Original design featured in the 2012 version
A challenge to creating the character was how to get his face to read clear emotion as his task was to convey sadness, anger, and happiness. His large eyes would need softbody eyelids since the eyes are the first read of most characters, this would be his primary way of displaying his ethos. To back follow up and reinforce they eyelids was the slightly soft jaw of Friendbot. His simple curve gave him a conceived smile by design but needed to remain a little movable to allow reinforcement. If his eyes were reading one emotion but his jaw still curled in a smile, it could be confusing for audiences; therefore a flexible jaw was needed, but it had to maintain the illusion of being a hard bodied jaw.
(a) A cute robot from a Nickelodeon show, Invader Zim, heavily influenced the design of the new Friendbot
(b) Game art found that helped create a cute aesthetic for the body of Friendbot
(c) Brad Bird’s Iron Giant was the first template for the redesign, his widened shoulder frame lent to the shoulder pauldrons on the current Friendbot
Figure 2.4: The influences for the new design of Friendbot3000
Figure 2.5: Facial features to convey emotion of the Iron Giant were studied for implementation of Friendbots face
Figure 2.6: Friendbot300 derives from many influences but stems from the idea of a toy best friend
Figure 2.7: Final design of Friendbot3000 found in the animated short
His characterization was based off of both Woody and Buzz lightyear from *Toy Story*. In the film, Woody undergoes fits of jealousy and rage as he is replaced by the new toy, Buzz Lightyear. Woody is comfortable being the best friend of Andy in the film and feels dejected when removed.
from that position, dejected enough to commit acts of violence. Buzz on the other hand has much of his character pulled from his back story, being a space cadet, he faces forces with a bravado and unnerve. Ultimately he does not exactly think before he acts and finds himself in precarious situations due to this. Friendbot is a bold and daring while slightly absent minded like Buzz but jealous and spiteful and longing for companionship like Woody.
2.2.2 Dinosaur: Dogasaurus Rex
The dinosaur, given the name Dogasaurus, is a primal character based off of a dog. Neither speaking nor interacting in a way that is human like, his actions are portrayed by his enormous head and eyes to convey emotion and character. His original design stems from a character from a childhood show, Rugrats, where the kids praise a cartoon star called Reptar, featured in figure 2.8, who in turn is based off of Godzilla. Reptar was too fierce, however, and needed more cute features for the original short. The original Dogosaurus would have short appendages and lack the show of any teeth or claws, that is until he retaliates the assault from Friendbot.
Figure 2.8: Reptar, the original Dino’s inspiration
For the new design, a desire to make Dogosaur even cuter was the driving force in his redesign. Instead of conveying the idea of the dinosaur being any sort of an adult, the design was heavily put on creating a young child-like dinosaur. An immediate choice down this path was to make the head his largest and most predominate shape. Inspired by characters like Agumon from the Digimon series, Chomper from "Land Before Time II: The Great Valley Adventure," and Tyrunt from the Pokemon series, Dogosaur needed a heavy and defined shape to his head. Chompers visual aesthetic played the largest role in influencing his squared off snout and large eyes, while Agumon and Tyrunt informed proportions of body to head.
In terms of characterization Dogosaur is more closely related to Pluto from the mickey mouse series, an expressive companion without the need for dialogue. Pluto’s typical antics are influenced by another characters actions, as Pluto rarely gives off any disposition other than friendly and aloof. This matches the character of Dogosaur as he is not threatened or provoked until he is attacked by Friendbot.
(a) Digimon monster Agumon, one of the main characters to the first installment of the series
(b) Tyrunt, a pokemon, was a supreme choice in designing a young and cute Tyrannosaurus Rex
(c) Chomper heavily guided the shape and design of the face for Dogosaur
Figure 2.10: The influences for the redesign of Dogosaur
Figure 2.11: Dogosaur is a mix of cute and cuddly as well as toothy and deadly
Figure 2.12: Final implementation of Dogosaur
2.3 Story through Camera and Animation
As described, the camera is as much a story teller as the characters. Specific camera techniques help create the feelings the viewer will imply on the scene. Motivation for movement and framing, as well as following good film conventions, is one of the largest dictators of camera work. Action must drive the scene first and foremost, this includes the action of the camera itself. Broken down into three acts, the camera and its pacing is apparent in its different emphasis in each corresponding part.
Act one comprises of the setup as described, this setting up of detail is given to the viewer in a series of stills displaying the robot in single centered frames that stages him facing a direction for movement to the right in shot one and two. Shot one tilts down to expose environment, driving this movement to reveal the character from the title set in the sky. Once the frame is found on the extreme long shot of the robot, the camera goes back to static at the correct mark to let the frame have its own driving composition. The shot holds long enough to allow the viewer to digest the scenery and identify the character, both elements saturated with information. The environment informs the nature of the set, the character is out in the wilderness; the character informs his state of nature and his contrast in the environment, being a mechanical creature in an organic world. The shot intention is to only exist for these purposes and end, the crucial part of the pacing. The following shot is still as it lets the robot come to a stop in frame as he is now the only subject necessary to driving the plot further. The shot’s importance is now to give characterization to the robot, which is reflected in the framing of the character in a medium shot. The frame also leaves space to the right to match the characters direction from the last shot. His posture and pose now dominate the frame as the main informant to the shot for the viewer, contrasted from the last shot which was dominated by environment.
Figure 2.13: Shot 1 and 2’s introduction to character and environment
Act two highlights the conflict of the short. With the combination of animation and layout, the series of shots stands out on its own as an exciting sequence of confrontation. This sequence begins with shot four, with Friendbot’s attention pulled away from the device that holds his fond memories of him with the boy who was his friend, a straight on shot was chosen to ode back to the original format of the film and give clear view for the character to express himself. Friendbot looks past the camera and squints to visibly show he is straining himself to look at something. This is a visible queue to the audience that what he sees is not directly in front of him. Figure 2.14 and 2.15 shows the representation of the same shots from both the original and the new version of the short.
Figure 2.14: The shot from the original of Friendbot looking past the camera, no additional animation in the shot
(a) First frame from shot 4, with Friendbot looking down at the device shown in the previous shot
(b) Friendbot looks up and notices something off in the distance
(c) Friendbot squints to look at a distant figure or object
Figure 2.15: Shot 4 framing and animation
The film then cuts to a point of view shot with eyeline match. This shot, while containing none of the subject from the last shot, uses basic film language that the viewer subconsciously understands. Eyeline match is an editing technique best characterized from Sergei Eisenstein montage and juxtaposition style that explains that when a character is notably looking at something off screen, the next shot will reveal what it is they are looking at, regardless of spatial continuity. So it is understood by the viewer that the dinosaur featured in this shot is the subject of the robots gaze. In the original short, Friendbot’s gaze follows the horizon for a bit before notably locking on to the dinosaur. This was mainly due to the lack of eye animation in the original character from the prior shot; however, in this updated version, the animation demonstrates Friendbot’s clear eye line and therefore this search is unnecessary. Instead a slight focal length is used to keep the shot from feeling too static and to reinforce the robots focus, as the dinosaur obliviously sniffs the road. This is the first introduction to the dinosaur in the short, aside from the toy the boy holds. In order to convey the dog and primal nature of the dinosaur character, he is seen engaged in sniffing a section of the road. Much like a dog on a walk who decides a particular spot is of great interest. Figures 2.16 and 2.17 demonstrate the difference in the two shots.
Figure 2.16: Shot 5, a slow push in on the dino as the focal point of Friendbot
Figure 2.17: How the camera was handled in the original short, it pans across passing the dinosaur and then snaps back just before he exits frame for a comedic effect.
Now for the cut back to the robot for his reaction, again expected by the audience with the classic use of an eyeline match. This shot matches shot 4 that started this sequence, as if the camera is just simply looking back to Friendbot after seeing what he sees. The mood quickly changes for this shot, Friendbot reacts by a little snap of his neck to be upright, the motivation being his distasteful reaction to the presence of the dinosaur. Quickly it devolves into rage, his eye lids moving to form an angry shape and the camera snaps in to an extreme close up of his eyes to emphasis this. The motivation for this move is the stark change in Friendbot’s mood from sad to anger; the camera representing the sudden change. The original short handled this much differently as it evoked images of a thought bubble to represent his internal thoughts and then snaps back to the robot with angry red eyes. The camera move is a more artful way of representing the swift change as it conjures a physical manifestation of the change as well as not coming off as a basic camera cut as done in the original. Figures 2.18 and 2.19 show the representation of these shots in the shorts.
Figure 2.18: Friendbot’s original cut to anger, which was juxtaposed with his external thought bubble of dino and the scientist becoming friends, the original shorts source of Friendbot’s feelings of rejection
(a) The cut back to Friendbot, maintaining continuity as he in a pose similar to when he was last seen
Figure 2.19: the start on the static camera leaves the same mood as shot 4 with similar framing but the camera cuts in for an extreme close up to then show the swift change in Friendbot’s emotions
(b) Friendbots quick evolution into anger and extreme close up on his eyes
Shot 7 is the first shot that starts the action of the sequence and is animated to have a bit of a hand held feel, which can help the viewer feel even more like the spectator to the action. Starting with a close up on Dogosaur, who is still seen engrossed in sniffing the path, this feels slightly discontinued from the last as the viewer is expecting action from Friendbot based on his sudden change in disposition. This lingering anticipation is actually part of the ploy for the shot, for within a second, Dogosaur moves to the right of frame revealing a moving figure in the background. The Camera quickly snaps in to focus on the figure, who is none other than Friendbot charging at
Dogosaur. The snap zoom, a signature technique found in Tarantino films, is a quick focal change and shift in framing while feeling fluid and natural. Tarantino’s inspiration for this kind of shot stems from genre of westerns, where extreme close ups define a character’s motive and demonstrate to the audience the inner thinking of a character. Figure 2.20 demonstrates a snap zoom in the film *Django Unchained*.
(a) Initial framing of the shot, subject is in the thirds on frame right
(b) as the subject turns, the camera moves framing in anticipation
(c) as the subject finishes his turnaround the camera snaps in, framing is not perfect, gives natural feel
(d) final frame finds subject in center frame, close up allows the reading of subject's emotion
Figure 2.20: A snap zoom can help assert focus and gives a visually stunning impact compared to just a cut
The framing of this shot was originally built off of a shot from *Toy Story*, in a scene where Woody is angry at Buzz, still jilted from his rejection from Andy, and turns to attack. Figure 2.21 demonstrates the use of anticipation as Woody spins around in rage and then cuts to a medium shot of Buzz with Woody charging at him in the background. By adding a snap zoom we add a little bit more focus on Friendbot’s angry charge by letting him dominate the shot but maintain the lack of awareness from our foreground character. This was achieved by a framing adjustment to allow Dogosaur to fill most of the frame and then reveal Friendbot in his frenzied charge. Figure 2.22 shows the final framing of the shot from *Making Friends*.
(a) Woody spins around and shows a face of pure rage, similar to the shot 6 from in *Making Friends*.
(b) Framing is set similar to shot 7 but begins tighter and leaves Friendbot’s reveal till about 30 frames into the shot.
Figure 2.21: Stills from *Toy Story* that match some of the expressive characteristics and framing from *Making Friends*.
The pacing is important to maintain during this action sequence, so few shots are longer than 60 frames. The next cut to shot 8 is from underneath Friendbot’s feet as he races forward towards Dogosaur. The choice to have the camera underfoot is an homage to a specific chase shot from *Jurassic Park*. This camera move is zeroing in on Dogosaur with Friendbot, feeling the anticipation of the closing gap. Figure 2.23 demonstrates the original shot from *Jurassic Park*. Framing within a frame is a common practice in film, it heightens the focus and draws the viewers eyes. The legs of the raptor in this scene frame the boy as he chases him through the kitchen. Shot 8 of *Making Friends* is an attempt to recreate this using Friendbot’s legs to frame Dogosaur. Figure 2.24 shows the frames from the short.
Figure 2.23: A still from *Jurassic Park* demonstrating a frame within a frame within a chase sequence using the chasers legs
(a) The start of shot 8 which frames the Dogosaur using Friendbot’s legs
(b) Near the end of the shot as Friendbot makes his hasty approach
Figure 2.24: Stills from shot 8 that exhibit the attempted recreation of the shot from *Jurassic Park*
As if almost cutting away from the narrative itself, the shot 9 is a still shot with a mostly empty frame with Dogosaur near the bottom, will sniffing the ground. It is at this point Dogosaur finally notices the approaching threat and lifts his head to see his possible assailant. An additional beat is given here to allow the dinosaur to tilt his head to the side much like a dog to convey his confused nature. This moment is to exude the gentle nature of Dogosaur and his calm demeanor. This shot is 80 frames and contrasts the quick cuts from the action to better convey the characterization of Dogosaur. Most creatures when approached by anything at the pace Friendbot is setting has a primal instinct to run, but this calm moment from Dogosaur represents to the audience the misjudged anger toward Dogosaur by serving as contrast from the rest of the shots and the contrast in animation action. Figure 2.25 shows the poses from Dogosaur in this shot.
(a) First frame of the shot, leaving lots of headroom for Dogosaur
(b) Dogosaur now looks directly past the camera at the assumed space of Friendbot
(c) After a beat, Dogosaur tilts his head in curiosity, demonstrating his calm and curious nature
Figure 2.25: The breakdown of the animation in shot 9
After teasing the closing gap, shot 10 finishes this running action sequence but cutting to a point of view of Dogosaur, with Friendbot reeling back for the punch. Within moments Friendbot launches himself at Dogosaur and rails the frame with his punch. This cut back to a point of view mimics the sequence of shots earlier from Friendbot’s pov, creating symmetry to the scene. Even after the punch in shot 10, the next shot frames just like 9 and shows Dogosaur taking the punch and falling off frame. This symmetry helps shift the viewers emotional attachment from Friendbot to Dogosaur as he becomes the victim of hate. Allowing the viewers to identify with both characters is the key to creating the ending of this short, knowing that neither truly has malicious towards the other. Shot 11 finishes with Dogosaur taking Friendbot’s punch and collapsing down towards the bottom of the frame. Figures 2.26 and 2.27 show these shots while figure 2.28 demonstrates the symmetry of the point of view sequences.
- (a) Dogosaur’s PoV revealing Friendbot reeling back for an attack
- (b) Final frame of the shot with the frame being filled with Friendbot’s fist
- (a) Starts with similar framing from shot 9
- (b) Dogosaur receiving Friendbot’s punch
Figure 2.26: Shot 10’s punch animation landing directly into the camera as Dogosaurus PoV
Figure 2.27: Shot 11 the results of Friendbot’s punch
Figure 2.28: A breakdown of shot symmetry starting and ending the punch sequence in *Making Friends*
To finish our Act 2, shot 12 is an empty frame near the ground that drops Dogosaur into the frame still reeling from the punch. Dogosaur hits the ground bounces once and lands flat, with some light overlapping action to help enunciate the fall. The tongue settles down as Dogosaur lays defeated, unmoving. This ends the entirety of the action as it is the final result Friendbot set out to do, defeat the symbol of his rejection. Figure 2.29 is a demonstrates the animation of the shot.
(a) An empty frame gives the audience the anticipation of something entering
(b) Dogosuar falling into frame from the force of the punch
(c) Dogosaur, defeated, lays in the frame unmoving
Figure 2.29: Shot 12, the defeat of Dogosaur
The original take of this moment from the first short is a much different approach as the sequence of action only consists of three shots, Friendbot’s charge, the punch, and Dogosaur’s reaction. The extension and addition of shots, not only creates a more exciting action sequence with a better pay off, but creates better anticipation in the viewer. Figure 2.30 demonstrates the original take on the sequence.
(a) Friendbot’s charge
(b) Friendbot’s punch
(c) Dogosaur’s reaction
Figure 2.30: Original take on the action sequence from the original short
The final shot of Act 2 that sets up the climax of the short, is a shot designed after another shot from *Jurassic park*. Friendbot now stand proud over his defeat of Dogosaur, looking down in victory. His taste of satisfaction quickly sours as his eyes quickly pop open and the camera dolly’s backwards giving room for Dogosaur’s foot to enter frame right and slam down in defiant retaliation. The camera even shakes a bit on the impact of the massive orange leg dominating the right side of the frame. This is to emphasis the anger now in Dogosaur’s character without actually showing his face. It is important that Dogosaur’s actions speak for his emotions in this scene as the camera holds allowing Friendbot to react to his reinvigorated foe. Friendbot’s head keeps moving up, as if sizing up his opponent for the first time, and all bravado is quickly lost as he blinks twice and arms go limp. Friendbot’s animation reinforces his swift change in mood and the intimidation factor from Dogosaur’s now angry disposition. Figure 2.31 demonstrates the similarity and inspiratoin of the framing of this shot from *Jurassic Park*, while figure 2.32 breaks down the camera motion and animation of the scene.
Figure 2.31: A still from *Jurassic Park* showing the source of inspiration for the final framing of shot 13 in *Making Friends*
(a) The shot starts with Friendbot in frame standing over his 'defeated' foe
(b) Friendbot’s face and disposition quickly change, motivating the camera’s move
(c) The camera backs up to reveal Dogosaur’s leg stomping down in defiance
(d) Friendbot loses all bravado and his arms go limp as he succumbs to fear
Figure 2.32: Breakdown of shot 13, leading to the climax of the short
Chapter 3
Production Process
The production process for an animation is much like that of live action. From the pre-production phase of storyboards, concept art, location scouting, into production of filming, which includes capturing audio, lighting, staging, and camera, following into post production of compositing and editing and additional audio. The advantage to animation, which adds to the excessiveness of the art, is the ability to create anything for the animation needed. Storyboards and concept art are still important to the preproduction but rather than location scouting, additional concept art for environment is needed. During production the lighting, staging, camera movement and placement are done in separate stages. First the characters and environmental models must be created for the rest of the process. Surfacing and rigging are usually done in tandem as the layout process begins with the staging of characters, environmental placement, as well as camera techniques; Animation for advanced staging and character animation; all wrapped up into lighting for final renders before post production. Compositing editing and audio follow suit in post production much like a live action. The breakdown of the actual production process creates extensive hours of work for artists and techs as the process must be meticulous and correct before sending off renders. This process is the key to animation and its the same processed used for the making of Making Friends. The process is detailed here from the beginnings to the end of the production in the following sections which mirror the stages of production.
3.1 Pre-Vis
The heart of the story and development of the actual production is almost all laid out here in Pre-visualization. Storyboards and character designs are brought to life by artists, as well as the varying environment concepts that will contain the adventures or misadventures of the characters. Characters undergo vigorous changes as the vision and identity of them are found. *Making Friends* followed the traditional process of starting in 2D sketches and boards to create a map for the production. The fact that this short was a pre-existing concept in 2D helped guide this process. The foundations of the story had been laid, the original artistic style of environmental and character contrast was present, as well as the initial character design and inspiration were all found in the original short. The next task was transferring this all to 3D animation. The characters received special treatment, as well as the environment as stated in prior chapters.
The largest task was the story telling of the camera in 3D as it was to take a completely different approach from the original. Many of the original shots were kept and transferred to the boards as the sentiment of the original shots were still very present in the new short. There was also a lot of room to had for improvement of the shots.
3.2 Modeling
Characters do not exist in 3D animation until they are created using a complex method of mapping vertices in 3D space. Luckily technology has advanced far enough to create an easier and fun process for doing this rather than the daunting process it sounds like. Autodesk Maya is the power house of this animation’s production process, and modeling starts here. Both characters were modeled using a method called box modeling. Box modeling starts with exactly as expected a box, referred to as a cube in 3D space. The robot character is comprised of several different parts that almost all started as a cube. Once a cube is placed in 3D space it is then edited using a variety of tools in Maya’s toolkit to better form the shape. The more elaborate parts of the model are the torso and fingers. The torso is a single mesh with two hard body pieces, the chest plate and the hips, connected together by a soft mesh to allow flexibility in the spine. The technique used for this was blocking out the sections with cubes and then combining and merging vertices much like grafting. To keep symmetry the mesh was cut in half vertically along the center, then cut again into a quarter. Once the model was set correctly in this portion it could then be duplicated across an axis, combined and merged. The process was then repeated to create the entirety of the torso.
Blocking the entire model is essential to capturing the correct size and proportions to model from the reference. Just like in life drawing, gestures are important to start with so proportions line up on the detail pass. Figure 3.2 shows the evolution of the blocking and detail process as the model evolved. Image a is the absolute blocking of parts and shapes through box modeling. Important shapes such as the jaw and eyes needed to be placed for relative sizing based off the reference. Friendbot3000 is meant to be cute, therefore his eyes and jaw needed special attention during the process to maintain the factors that lend themselves to his cuteness factor. The correct ratio of the eyes and the jaw were not met until the third image shown in figure 3.3, which was when the eyes were decided to be elongated and asymmetrical. The jaw also needed to flow in silhouette with the general shape of the rest of the head as it was too wide in the first few iterations. Finally a roundness quality was brought back into the primary shape of the head that allowed for smoother edges and a dropped back on the top of the head, these choices gave him a more recognizable and distinct face needed for the emotional connection he was set to play for the viewers.
Figure 3.2: Demonstrating the blocking and polishing process of Friendbot3000
Figure 3.3: Demonstrating the blocking and polishing process of Friendbot3000
Figure 3.4: Demonstrating how smoothed algorithm works on the mesh
Figure 3.5: Maya Orthographic view as well as displaying a mesh ready for duplication across axis x and z.
(a) unsmoothed box model blocked
(b) vertex merged with upper torso
(c) vertex merged with all parts
Figure 3.6: Demonstrating the modeling process taken with the torso
Smoothing is another portion that was important to the model process. Smooth mesh is when Maya subdivides the mesh on an iteration set by the user. For the model of the robot who
was created with a low number of polygon faces to avoid unneeded intricacy. Maya has a smoothing method that adds more subdivisions to the mesh and averages their position based on the relative location of nearby vertices. This was absolutely necessary for the models as it adds finer detail on curves and corners for the characters which ties to establishing character traits. Examples of this smoothing can be found in figures 3.2, 3.3, and 3.4
3.3 Rigging
Following the model creation comes the hard task of rigging the model. Rigging is a system of creating vectors within the model known as joints. These joins allow the mesh to be deformed for animation in ways the character should be deformed. Each joint is binded to the mesh with skin weights. Skin weights is a binding of vertices to the joint and how much that join influences the deformation of those vertices. Friendbot3000’s rig was simple in design, as it was a standard human bipedal figure. His model, comprised of multiple mesh pieces rather than a single mesh and being a mostly hard body creature, made the process of binding of his vertices to joints easier compared to his dinosaur companion, who is mostly one soft body mesh. Vertices can have multiple joints influencing them as needed on soft body meshes to deform correctly. In the instance of Friendbot300 simply flooding the single mesh to the joint with a single influence was the most effective method for his skin binding.
The next task is constraining controllers to the joints inside the mesh to allow the rig to be animated. The joins have specific values in order to keep the integrity of the model during animation, so the animating the controllers allow the animator more freedom without damaging the joints. The values can be set back to zero in order to put the model back into the bind pose. Doing this on the joints would put the joints back at the center of origin, destroying the mesh.
(a) The hard chassis of the upper torso was a large area with an influence of one joint. (b) Middle torso received 2 separate joints to influence smaller areas for better flexibility. (c) The hips mirrored the chest as it needed to stay the same shape.
Figure 3.7: Demonstration of painting skin weights to specify deformations during animation.
Figure 3.8: Controllers and Joints aligned without the mesh present.
3.4 Layout
Layout was a unique and welcoming challenge, as the basis for this project was converting a 2D short to 3D. With the change of the story of cutting down the exposition we now had to establish the characters surroundings and feelings within the first few shots. Creating a sense of space where Friendbot3000 would be small and feeling insignificant in his massive environment, this was achieved by using an extreme long shot. The first shot not only needs to establish setting and character but it also needs to draw the eye of the viewer to the subject. Below is the first layout render from the short, lacking color can make everything meld together but an important take away was how composition of the shapes led the eye.
Most of the camera’s in the short lack a rig, so they are simply animated with group nodes or on the object themselves. Aim constraints are sometimes created in order to keep the camera on a specific object during a move. In order to best frame the action, cameras are placed and animated first with proxy geometry before being handed off to the animation files where the animator will animate and pose with the view of the camera in mind.
3.5 Animation
Animation is more than simply the change over time, it is the style and flair of a character to convey emotion and appeal. Timing out the action and making sure intentions, motivations, and reaction are clear is the most vital essence to animation. After a rig is built the animator can add key frames, that is to say specific key poses on specific frames, to the controllers in order to manipulate the character. Maya automatically interpolates the motion between key frames using tangent functions. A user can change and manipulate these tangents to better form the action. There are many practices when entering animation but the route taken for this short is by blocking out the poses needed and finding the timing of them, then manipulating the tangents in the graph editor to find the correct motion and timing the artist was looking for. This iterative process can taking many hours and a bulk of the time is spent manipulating and re-timing the animation of each shot. Reviewing and understanding the masters of animation is key to pulling of great work. So applying the 12 principles of animation is absolutely necessary when going through the artistic process that is animation. The principles of animation were a guiding factor to Disney Animation’s success. They include core fundamentals to timing and movement such as squash and stretch, anticipation, staging, overlapping action and arc. The principles help establish the illusion of life with establishing weight and spacing as well as the exaggerated effect of character animation on screen.
Figure 3.11: The graph editor displays the keyframes, the black dots, along with the interpolations, the lines
(a) The pose of the arm when controllers have zero manipulation to them
(b) The pose of the arm after the controllers have been manipulated
Figure 3.12: Demonstration using controllers to pose the arm
Chapter 4
Results and Conclusions
The remake of Making Friends was an extensive and exciting process. Seeing the development of my original concept rehashed into a 3D animated short with new skills and objectives gave me the challenge and satisfaction I sought. Working on a short with a strong vision for its look and execution has yielded a developed sense of spacing, timing, and framing of a narrative that only practice can give. Reworking the concept and characters came across very successfully in my belief. The reuse of assets for environment worked well to convey space and environment through layout, and the strong sense of character and story telling communicated the desired themes.
One of the challenging elements was developing storyboards for strong layout. While many of the shots from the storyboards made it to the final cut, a better understanding of space and depth in the storyboarding phase would strengthen conveying the narrative. Translating a 2D short into a 3D was a creative challenge, and I had hoped to keep more of the elements from the original short’s intention in the film. Although not all were kept, many of the elements that I found to be appealing in the first short came across with great success in the second. The connection with the character’s emotions, the blend of simple but appealing characters in a similar environment, and the mending of future tech (represented by the robot) and the past (the dinosaur) came together well, and it has been well received. One of the enjoyable parts of the production process was creating the homage shots that fueled the action of my sequences. Copying the techniques of great artists but using them forming my own story not only yielded exciting material but taught me that techniques are applied through individual expressionism best when a strong sense of passion is applied to the art.
I do believe this short is a testament of my growth as a filmmaker and artist, as my under-
standing of camera has improved by leagues in animation, as well as my understanding of animated
timing and story beats. I look forward to completing the short to submit for screening at film
festivals as well as developing these skills on my future projects in the industry.
Appendices
Storyboards
Making Friends
Page 1
Start on sun, fading away
(sound might be existing)
Tilt down to show Robot
walking around in Pirates' zone
(minor cues can be introduced to help maintain story)
Robot holds up
picture device
Making Friends
Page 2
Cut
Picture Device shows Robot
and boy happy. Boy holding Dino toy
Next image shows
Boy holding Dino toy lovingly
Boy excited. Points to dinosaur
Articulating dinosaur sounds
Boy waving good bye to
Robot
Making Friends
Page 3
Follow up to Robot as he looks at lost image
Cut back to picture desire
Put at Robot
Robot looks back he sees dinosaur zoom
Back to Robot big sad
Page 4
Robot face twists
Into anger zoom out
Eyes turn red with anger
Course zooms out on Robot focus into angry dash
Silhouette as Robot dashes to give who is absent
Making Friends
Page 5
Camera under robot's feet as he charges in following.
Drool at Drool as robot nears him. Punch him in the face.
? Drool licks head into frame and looks between robot and floor.
Fist comes almost all the way into camera.
Page 6
Cut to close up of robot as Drool gets under position.
Drool falls flat on the floor.
Low shot of ground as Drool stretches.
DroolKing floor.
Making Friends
Page 7
Robot stands over in victory.
Robot becomes widely shocked.
Over the shoulder down.
Dino gets up and runs.
From Robot and dino.
Camera starts pan to right.
Making Friends
Page 8
Dino goes in to bite robot arm.
Dino clamps and tug a war for arm.
Extremes close up on arm socket.
Arm pops out and the two parts go off screen.
Making Friends
Robot falls down missing his arm.
Looks back at camera.
Robot looks at missing arm.
Dino looks back excited and wagging tail. Dog likes.
Making Friends
Dino places arm down gently and waits in anticipation.
Robot starts smiling and colors change to blue again.
Fade to Black.
Bibliography
|
Summary Title: 235 Hamilton Ave: Upgrade Historic Inventory From Category 3 to Category 2
Title: Adoption of a Record of Land Use Action Approving a Change to the Local Historic Resources Inventory Classification for 235 Hamilton Avenue (Cardinal Hotel) From a Category 3 (Contributing Building) to a Category 2 (Major Building) Historic Resource. The Historic Resources Board Recommends Adoption of the Record of Land Use Action. Approval of This Historic Designation is Exempt From the California Environmental Quality Act (CEQA) in Accordance With Section 15301 of the CEQA Guidelines
From: City Manager
Lead Department: Planning and Development Services
Recommendation
Staff recommends that Council reclassify 235 Hamilton Avenue, the Cardinal Hotel, originally constructed in 1924, from a Palo Alto Historic Inventory Category 3 Resource (‘Contributing Building’) to a Category 2 Resource (‘Major Building’) as recommended by the Historic Resources Board (HRB).
Executive Summary
This report and Record of Land Use Action (Attachment A) provide background and support the HRB’s recommendation to upgrade the Cardinal Hotel’s Historic Inventory classification from Category 3 (‘Contributing Building’) to Category 2 (‘Major Building’). The building is located within the Ramona Street National Historic District and Commercial Downtown and provides ground floor retail spaces, as well as 59 hotel rooms. The HRB recommended the classification upgrade on May 14, 2020.
Over the years, the Cardinal Hotel was upgraded for adaptive, modern uses and general maintenance. Yet the hotel is individually eligible for listing in the California Register of Historical Resources (CRHR) under Criteria 1 and 3. The building, designed by William H. Weeks,
was previously found significant as a contributing building within a National Register historic district. The building is additionally significant for its role as a commercial hotel developed to anchor the commercial corridor on Ramona Street that was only just taking shape in 1924. The building was the first to be completed as part of the larger work by the Palo Alto Development Company, and the Cardinal Hotel became an important social and recreational space for Palo Alto in addition to providing commercial uses.
**Background/Discussion**
The hotel was first evaluated and added to the local historic inventory in May of 1978 as a Category 3 resource. The inventory form was later updated on March 4, 1985 (Attachment B), when the property was deemed a contributing building to the National Register Ramona Street Architectural District (Attachment C).
Palo Alto Municipal Code (PAMC) Chapter 16.49 defines a Category 3 contributing building as:
“a good local example of architectural styles and which relate to the character of a neighborhood grouping in scale, materials, proportion or other factors. A contributing building may have had extensive or permanent changes made to the original design, such as inappropriate additions, extensive removal of architectural details, or wooden facades resurfaced in asbestos or stucco.”
PAMC 16.49 defines a Category 2 major building as:
“any building or group of buildings of major regional importance, meritorious works of the best architects or an outstanding example of an architectural style or the stylistic development of architecture in the state or region. A major building may have some exterior modifications, but the original character is retained.”
**Evaluation and Upgrade Request**
The property owner contacted staff in August 2019 to alert staff to a potential façade upgrade, and desire to preserve historic features. Staff received funds from the owner to have the City's historic consultant prepare a historic resource evaluation (HRE), completed in October 2019. The HRE was sought to help define the historic features and explore the building's eligibility for the CRHR. The owner noted interest in the possibility of reclassifying the local inventory category and various benefits of a Category 2 designation. Benefits include floor area bonus following rehabilitation, which may be transferred off site to offset the costs of rehabilitation. The owner has not filed an Architectural Review (AR) application for the rehabilitation work. The owner is working now to submit a building permit for seismic rehabilitation work.
The attached record of land use action provides additional background information.
**HRB Recommendations**
On May 14, 2020, the HRB reviewed the historic resources evaluation (Attachment B), staff report\(^1\) and received presentations. Meeting minutes are attached to this report (Attachment C).
**Local Inventory Category Upgrade**
The HRB confirmed elevating the building’s local inventory historic category from 3 to 2 was appropriate. Some members supported consideration of the building as an exceptional building eligible for local inventory category 1. The HRB also encouraged the building’s owners to consider a further request at a future date to change from a Category 2 to a Category 1.\(^2\)
The HRB report included the original Historic Inventory form reflecting the Category 3 status as well as the recent Historic Resource Evaluation. The HRB recommended the class upgrade with no requirement for rehabilitation. The HRB action affirming this recommendation for upgrade to a Category 2 ‘Major Building’ is documented in the draft excerpt HRB meeting minutes from May 14, 2020.
**California Register Eligibility**
The City’s October 2019 independent report found the building is eligible for CRHR listing under two of the four criteria:
- **Criterion 1 (Events): Resources that are associated with events that have made a significant contribution to the broad patterns of local or regional history, or the cultural heritage of California or the United States.** The property meets Criterion 1. For its role in the development of Palo Alto and the University South neighborhood, the building is significant. The building is also significant as the work of a prolific California architect, William H. Weeks, and is an important early project in the career of Birge Clark, Palo Alto’s most important architect.
- **Criterion 3 (Architecture): Resources that embody the distinctive characteristics of a type, period, region, or method of construction, or represent the work of a master, or possess high artistic values.** For the importance of its architects, as well as its refined Italian Renaissance Revival façade and Arts and Crafts interior, the Cardinal Hotel is significant under Criterion 3.
---
\(^1\) HRB staff report dated May 14, 2020 viewable here: [https://www.cityofpaloalto.org/civicax/filebank/documents/76588](https://www.cityofpaloalto.org/civicax/filebank/documents/76588)
\(^2\) PAMC 16.49 defines a Category 1 Exceptional building as “any building or group of buildings of preeminent national or state importance, meritorious work of the best architects or an outstanding example of the stylistic development of architecture in the United States. An exceptional building has had either no exterior modifications or such minor ones that the overall appearance of the building is in its original character.”
The HRB was supportive of the report’s conclusions, as reflected in the meeting minutes.
**Ramona Street Architectural District**
The building and construction of the Ramona Street Architectural District was carried out by designer Pedro de Lemos, a prominent regional designer, and Birge Clark and William H. Weeks, well-known local architects. The district was central in the 1920s and 30s expansion of Palo Alto’s downtown commercial district and its location addressed concerns that the town center was growing too laterally along University.
The Ramona Street Architectural District contains eight National Register District contributing buildings. The Cardinal Hotel is one of two Inventory Category 3 buildings in the district. The district also has two Category 1 buildings, three Category 2 buildings, and one Category 4 building. The eight buildings were built between 1924 and 1938.
The Inventory Category 1 resources in the district are both Pedro de Lemos’ buildings – the building at 520 Ramona, originally built in 1925 but modified significantly over time, and 533 Ramona (the NOLA restaurant building). The addresses of buildings in the district and associated Inventory category numbers are as follows:
- 235 Hamilton Category 3
- 267 Hamilton Category 3
- 520, 522, 524, 526 Ramona Category 1
- 528-530 Ramona Category 2
- 533-539 Ramona Category 1
- 532, 534-536 Ramona Category 2
- 538-542 Ramona Category 2
- 541-545 Ramona Category 4
The City’s the local inventory reflects a total of 89 Category 1 resources, 266 Category 2 resources, 237 Category 3 resources, and 281 Category 4 resources, citywide.
**Architectural Review**
Any façade restoration or rehabilitation improvements would be subject to Architectural Review (AR) with HRB review and recommendation to ensure compliance with the Secretary of the Interior’s Standards. The owner intends to remodel several rooms on the second and third floors. The remodel would reduce the total number of guestrooms by a count of ten. The project intent is to preserve the exterior to the maximum extent possible, to not take away from the architectural style and aesthetics of the original design. This would be done in conjunction with a voluntary seismic upgrade to remove the deficiencies called out in a
structural report and engineer’s assessment. The owner intends to utilize the California Historic Building Code in preparation of the seismic analysis and building permit submittal.
Policy Implications
Following Council reclassification of the building as a Category 2 building, the property owner intends to proceed with a seismic rehabilitation project. After the project is completed the owner may seek a floor area bonus and later, the applicant may pursue historic rehabilitation. Bonus floor area is transferrable to a non-historic building in the Downtown, and the PAMC sets forth processes to document any such transfer. The owner may instead submit an Architectural Review application to use the bonus floor area on site. Modification of the building exterior with bonus floor area would be subject to review for compliance with Secretary of the Interior’s Standards during AR application review process.
Resource Impact
Any project utilizing bonus floor area on site would include review by the Historic Resources Board and Architectural Review Board. The owner would pay the appropriate processing fees in effect at that time, as defined in the Municipal Fee Schedule.
Stakeholder Engagement
The HRB members have been the key community partners during the process to reach this point.
Environmental Review
Reclassification of a historic building to a higher category of resource is exempt from CEQA review under California Environmental Quality Act and CEQA Guidelines per Section 21065.
Attachments:
Attachment A: Record of Land Use Action (RLUA) for Upgrade to Category 2 Resource
Attachment B: Historic Resource Memorandum October 2019
Attachment C: HRB Draft Excerpt Minutes 5-14-20
On June 22, 2020, the Council ______ the property owner’s request to reclassify the commercial building (Cardinal Hotel) at 235 Hamilton Avenue from a Category 3 to a Category 2 historic resource on the City’s Historic Resources Inventory, making the following findings, determination and declarations:
SECTION 1. Background. The City Council of the City of Palo Alto (“City Council”) finds, determines, and declares as follows:
A. In August 2019, the property owner met staff to discuss a façade remodel and explore the possibility of reclassifying the building related to a rehabilitation proposal. With the owner’s request and funding, staff obtained a historic resource evaluation from the City’s consultant, Page and Turnbull, which supported the classification upgrade and described the building’s eligibility for individual listing on the California Register under Criterion 1 and criterion 3.
B. On May 14, 2020, the HRB received a staff report (ID #11087) and conducted a public hearing and concurred with the evaluation regarding the building’s eligibility for upgrade from local inventory historic category 3 to category 2.
SECTION 2. Environmental Review. This project is exempt from the provisions of the California Environmental Quality Act (CEQA), per Section 15301.
SECTION 3. Designation Findings.
A. The following criteria, as specified in Municipal Code Section 16.49.040 (b), shall be used as criteria for designating historic structures/sites to the historic inventory:
1. The structure or site is identified with the lives of historic people or with important events in the city, state or nation;
2. The structure or site is particularly representative of an architectural style or way of life important to the city, state or nation;
3. The structure or site is an example of a type of building which was once common, but is now rare;
4. The structure or site is connected with a business or use which was once common, but is now rare;
5. The architect or building was important;
6. The structure or site contains elements demonstrating outstanding attention to architectural design, detail, materials or craftsmanship.
The building at 235 Hamilton Avenue met many of the above criteria when it was first listed on Palo Alto’s Inventory. With its inclusion in the National Register Ramona District, and the 2019 assessment, the building’s status as a historic resource has improved.
B. The definition of Category 2 in Municipal Code Section 16.49.020 (b) must be met to allow the upgrade to the structure’s category designation: Category 2 Definition: "Major building" means any building or group of buildings of major regional importance, meritorious works of the best architects or an outstanding example of an architectural style or the stylistic development of architecture in the state or region. A major building may have some exterior modifications, but the original character is retained.
The building at 235 Hamilton Avenue meets the Palo Alto Inventory Category 2 definition, as per the HRB’s determination.
C. California Register of Historical Resources listing: The structure appears eligible for listing on the California Register of Historical Resources, under two of the four criteria. The property’s eligibility under Criteria 1 and 3 is described in the report prepared by Page and Turnbull, October 2019 (Attached to ID #11087).
SECTION 5. Category Upgrade Approved. The City Council approves the property owner’s request for re-designation of 235 Hamilton Avenue to a Category 2 historic resource on the City’s Historic Resources Inventory.
PASSED:
AYES:
NOES:
ABSENT:
ABSTENTIONS:
ATTEST: APPROVED:
__________________________________ ______________________________
City Clerk Director of Planning and
Development Services
APPROVED AS TO FORM:
__________________________________
Senior Asst. City Attorney
Direct Link to Attachment B: Historic Resource Memorandum:
https://www.cityofpaloalto.org/civicax/filebank/documents/77215
Call to Order/Roll Call
Present: Chair Bower, Vice Chair Shepherd, Board Member Makinen, Board Member Pease, Board Member Wimmer, Board Member Bernstein
Absent: Board Member Kohler
Action Items
2. PUBLIC HEARING/QUASI-JUDICIAL. Cardinal Hotel, 235 Hamilton Avenue [20PLN-00024]: Request for Historic Designation Reclassification, from a Local Historic Resource Category 3 to a Category 2, of the Cardinal Hotel located within the National Register of Historic Places’ Ramona Street Architectural District. Environmental Assessment: No project under California Environmental Quality Act and CEQA Guideline per Section 21065. Zone District: CD-C (GF)(P) – Downtown Commercial with Ground Floor and Pedestrian Shopping Combined District. For more information contact Amy French, amy.french@cityofpaloalto.org.
Chair Bower: We can then move to Agenda item number two, which is... Wait a minute, 235 Hamilton, Cardinal Hotel. So, let me read the official description. This is a public hearing/quasi-judicial. The Cardinal Hotel at 235 Hamilton Avenue, which is 20PLN-00024. It is a request for Historic Designation Reclassification from a Local Historic Resource Category 3 to a Category 2 of the Cardinal Hotel located within the National Register of Historic Places’ Ramona Street Architectural District. Environmental Assessment: there is no project under California Environmental Quality Act and CEQA Guidelines per Section 21065. The zoning district is CD-C (GF)(P) – Down Commercial with Ground Floor and Pedestrian Shopping Combined District. For more information you can contact Amy French at amy.french@cityofpaloalto.org.
Ms. French: Thank you David.
Chair Bower: Let me start before you begin, Amy. Are there any disclosures from Board Members? I will start by saying that I have visited the hotel many times, but not recently. Anyone else have any disclosures? I’m not seeing anybody. Oh, Michael.
Board Member Makinen: We had a tour of the hotel by the project people sometime in March I think it was. We went through the hotel site. Excuse me, that was the other hotel. Cancel that.
Chair Bower: Martin, I see your light.
Board Member Bernstein: Yes. Thank you, Chair Bower. So, I’ve been in the hotel. I’ve been given a tour of the hotel and I personally have given tours of the hotel. That’s my disclosure. Thank you.
Chair Bower: Alright. I’m seeing other people shaking their heads no. So, Amy, why don’t you begin with the Staff Report.
Ms. French: Okay. Well today we are, it’s hotel day. We’ve got two hotels, the first being the Cardinal Hotel. This is Item Two. The hotel was built in 1924 and it is History Inventory Category 3 on our local inventory. It was put there is 1978 as a Category 3. Then in 1985 it was put as a Contributing Resource to the National District. That’s when the National District at Ramona was put into that category. The Cardinal Hotel is the first building that was built in the Ramona Street District and per the Historic Resource Evaluation prepared by Page & Turnbull in the fall of 2019, it is eligible as an Individual Resource under Criterion 1 and Criterion 3. It is designed by William Weeks in the Italian Renaissance Revival Style. Birge Clark was the supervising architect and it has been largely unaltered since 1944. It is just, with its existing Category, eligible for using the California Historical Building Code and energy standards, as well as Historic Preservation incentives in the City’s Zoning Code. It is a Seismic Category II Building and alternations based on the seismic issues have been in discussion so far, but there is no application submitted. The Cardinal Hotel is in, and I’ll say what these are, Commercial Downtown Ground-Floor Pedestrian Zone. That enables a building such as this with a 283 FAR to apply for historic bonus for use on site up to the 3 to 1, but the applicant has not indicated interest so far, and that the applicant has indicated interest in potentially transferring bonus floor area off the site following rehabilitation. So, this is in our code, Palo Alto Municipal Code Section 18.18.070 that allows the applicant to perform rehabilitation for both historic and seismic reasons and go through a process on that. But only the Council can approve on-site use of such bonuses, again, only up to the 3 to 1 FAR. The Cardinal Hotel, the reason it is eligible for California Register Individual Listing is for its role in Palo Alto’s commercial development and its distinctive characteristics of a type, period or method of construction. These are considered significant. It also meets all seven of the aspects of integrity as noted. The Cardinal Hotel has some alterations to date. The ground floor commercial spaces, storefront doors and display windows, upper floor windows were replaced with original fenestration openings. The intact features include the ground floor bulkheads, windows and transoms, the window rhythms and all original decorative façade details. The hotel lobby is special. It has craftsmanship from the American Arts and Crafts Movement in the 1920s and you can see there are still the retained flooring, ceiling, fireplace and other items still intact. A stairway was clearly added at some point later, on the right there. So, we’re looking to make the findings for the upgrade inventory classification on the City’s inventory, the reasons being it’s the first commercial anchor for the Ramona Street Historic District. It’s meritorious work of the architect and his supervising architect. It retains many character-defining features, all sever integrity aspects and the original character is intact. Our consultant, Page & Turnbull, who is also a participant are watching the presentation today has determined that it exceeds the criterion set for Category 3 buildings, and more appropriately classified as a Local Inventory Category 2. So, this is tentatively on the Council agenda consent for June 22. I’ll leave that slide up and turn it over to the applicant, who has images to share. Abha, are you participating?
Abha Nehru: Yeah. Good morning. Yes, I wanted to have the screen... Vinh you want to...
Mr. Nguyen: I (not understood) Amy screen shared, so you can share your screen now. If you are unable to, I can also project it for you.
Ms. Nehru: Okay, alright. Let me check and then I will start. I will keep my video off because my internet here can be spotty, so thanks for understanding. Good morning Chair Bower, Vice Chair Shepherd, good morning to all board Members. I am Abha Nehru and I work with Carrasco and Associates. I would like to first thank Amy and the City staff for their research and work on this project. I would also like to thank the Board and staff for working through the pandemic and for organizing this on-line hearing. We all really appreciate that. To start with, I would like to introduce Stephanie Wansek. She is the general manager of the Cardinal Hotel and is representing the owners. Vinh, could you unmute her? She just has a few lines that she would like to say.
Mr. Nguyen: Sure. Could you say, which name again?
Ms. Nehru: Stephanie Wansek. Stephanie, could you raise your hand?
Mr. Nguyen: Okay, I have unmuted you, but you have to unmute yourself as well.
Stephanie Wansek: Yes, good morning. Are people able to hear me?
Chair Bower: Yes.
Ms. Wansek: Good morning everyone. Thank you for your time again to echo Abha. I just wanted to read a few words. It has been my pleasure to manage the Cardinal Hotel for the past twenty years. During its proud history since 1924 the Cardinal Hotel has listed countless visitors to downtown Palo Alto. We proudly know the Cardinal to be a significant historic node since it was built. It was built to bring commercial development to Hamilton Street. It also became the scene of local community gatherings and dance events. The Cardinal Hotel continues its 95-year-old tradition to offer travelers visiting Palo Alto on business or leisure an experience noteworthy of remembrance. Global and domestic travelers visiting Palo Alto, Stanford and the San Francisco Bay Area experience the 1920s Revival Period while at the same time being part of today’s Palo Alto. Guests who visit the Cardinal are constantly impressed with the thoughtful preservation of the hotel and the authentic experience of their stay. The Dahl Family has owned this historic hotel since 1944 and have through the generations continued to preserve and celebrate its history. We look forward to hearing your feedback today regarding our proposal. Thank you.
Chair Bower: Abha, do you want to continue?
Ms. Nehra: Yes, I can continue, thanks. So, on behalf of the Cardinal Hotel ownership we are requesting that the Cardinal Hotel be designated as a Category 2 building in the Palo Alto Historic Inventory listing. It is currently listed as a Category 3 building. So, it’s a visual landmark anchored on the corner of Hamilton and Ramona. It is currently part of the Ramona Street Architectural District. It was built in 1924, designed in an Italian Renaissance Revival style by the prolific California architect William H. Weeks in collaboration with Birge Clark. It was the first hotel of its kind and the builders spared no expense to make the Cardinal Hotel the last word in hotel buildings at that time. The image on the right shows how the Cardinal Hotel is anchoring the Ramona Street Architectural District at the corner of Hamilton and Ramona. I’ll just walk you through the existing and the 1924 plans to show that not much has been altered over the years. This is the basement plan. The basement they were primarily using it for storage, housekeeping, mechanical and utility rooms were there. At one time there was also a dance floor in the basement. Not much has changed since then except for the fact that there is no dancing happening there. We still have our utilities, server rooms and storage in the basement. This is the current basement plan from 2020. This slide shows the first-floor plan drawing from 1924. We just outlined the lobby and the main entrances from Ramona and Hamilton which was part of the main hotel reception and still is. Surrounding ground floor spaces are all retail and they were designed as retail earlier and they still are retail now. The shaded areas show the retail portions. We have an alley on the side, on the southwest side. The main entry being from Hamilton and the second entry is from Ramona side. The legend here shows a few changes that have happened over the years, and these primarily are glazing doors or windows that have been replaced or repaired over time. The second and third floor plans are the guest floors, and this is a u-shape on the second and third floors around the light well. The interior guest rooms get this light and air from this rectangular lightwell and it will be more clear on the next image. These rooms and these floors, both second and third floor have not been modified or altered over the years. There has not been much change except for upgrade to bathrooms, styles and plumbing. So, I’ll just breeze past these slides. These were just to show you that the second and third floor plans have remained intact. This is a roof plan, not much change, same as before. This is an elevation drawing of Hamilton Avenue from 1924 and the next image would show how this building looks like today, 2020 elevation. The notations here show that along Hamilton the windows and glazing have been changed or repaired over time. There has been some added signage and fabric awnings, but the building primarily looks the same as it did in 1924. The next slide will show a Ramona drawing. Similarly, only the windows and glazing along this façade have changed over time. The windows on the second and third floors have been replaced, but within the opening fenestration. This is the Ramona Street elevation from 2020. We have noted what has changed. There has been the addition of a neon sign which wasn’t there in 1924, but we think it was still added around later in the 1920s because we see that in images from 1930 onwards. These are rare elevations. The only changes we see again are replacement windows which are
noted here. This is the west alley elevation. Again, just the modification to windows, window replacement on the second and third guest floors and glazing replacement at the first-floor corner here where we have the Base Gallery right now. So, I just have a few more images to share with you. The hotel opened in December, but the formal opening of the hotel was on December 13. This was an article in San Jose Mercury (not understood) at the time announcing the grand opening of the hotel. This is how the building looked from the southeast corner from 1924 and if I take a black and white image now today, it would almost look the same. This is a view, southeast view from 2020. There has been some addition of a neon sign and the flag posts are not there any longer. The building looks the same. This is the Hamilton façade today. Here, this image shows the material palate of stucco, terra-cotta, wrought iron and we have clay tile at the top edge. There were shields designed in the spandrel panels between windows and this is typical along Hamilton and Ramona façade. Horizontal (not understood) reminiscent of those times was used to separate the first floor from the two upper levels. This is the main Hamilton entry. It has spiraled classical Corinthian columns at Hamilton entrance and a metal marquee over this entrance and it is similar at the Ramona entrance. You can also see the stained-glass transom window at the corner there next to the pilaster. The next image shows how the hotel lobby looked in 1924 and the hotel interior again has primarily stayed intact. If I were to take this image as a black and white image today, I probably would not be able to make out the difference, except that there was a stair added at some point, which goes to the mezzanine level. The last few images. This is the main stair; the left image shows the main stair from 1924 and we took the main stair image as a black and white for 2020. The difference being only that today's picture is a little sharper. My last slide, I just want to conclude that the Cardinal Hotel was the first building constructed to attract commercial development on Hamilton and Ramona Streets. It was followed by other contributing buildings that became part of the Ramona Street Architectural District. The character-defining features of the building are substantially retained. It represents distinctive characteristics of style, period and workmanship. The collaboration of William Weeks and Birge Clark shaped the path for the other buildings that followed in this district. Lastly and most importantly, the owners wish to preserve this history for the future generations. Thank you for your time and I will mute myself now and answer any questions that you may have.
Chair Bower: Okay. So, at this point thank you very much for that presentation. It's a beautiful building and it is remarkable how much of the original historic fabric is still there. I'd like to take, at this point, to have Board Members ask questions, just questions. We'll have a discussion after that. Any Board Members have questions? I'm going to start by calling on people, just to make it simpler. Christian, any questions?
Board Member Pease: Not at this time.
Chair Bower: Okay, Debbie?
Vice Chair Shephard: No, thank you.
Chair Bower: Okay. Mike?
Board Member Makinen: No questions.
Chair Bower: Okay. Margaret?
Board Member Wimmer: Yeah, I don’t know if this is an appropriate question for this part of the meeting, but I’m just wondering why you, have you considered moving it to a Category 1? I just was, I think it's great that you're moving the category to a greater significance. I just was wondering why 2 and not go for a Category 1? Just out of curiosity.
Ms. Nehra: I think we asked Page & Turnbull to review this building. At that time the methodology and the criteria they used, they thought it would fit the Category 2 instead of Category 1. That it would not meet the criteria set by the HRB Board. So, they made that call, and maybe Christina can address that. She is here attending the meeting.
Chair Bower: Christina, can you respond if you want.
Board Member Wimmer: I was just to interject. I mean, the difference between the Category 1 and Category 2, the Category 1 is an exceptional building, a Category 2 is a major building. I mean, because this building hasn’t had a lot of alterations, it’s largely intact, it keeps its character. I mean, for me it’s kind of an exceptional building, so I just, I’m just thinking since you’re going through this effort to move it up. Maybe just the Category 1 would oblige you to things that you don’t want to be obligated to. Because in that sense, you could become a national level recognized building, which I think, I mean I would be in support of that just because I think it’s such a landmark.
Ms. French: So, Vinh, Christina is on the attendee side, so she needs to be unmuted.
Christina (no last name): Hi, can you hear me?
Chair Bower: Yes.
Christina: I’m actually, so I wasn’t the author of the Historic Resource Evaluation and I did review it but I didn’t see that we opined about category level. We were evaluating for the California Register, so I’m not sure if this was a separate conversation that my colleague had perhaps with Amy. Amy might have more information about that, but I don’t actually have anything to contribute about this. I’m sorry.
Chair Bower: Okay. Amy, you have a comment.
Ms. French: Yeah. I didn’t recall a conversation suggesting that Category 2 is the appropriate category. I mean, we have our Palo Alto Municipal Code, Chapter 16.49 that has, you know, the findings or the categories and, yes, exceptional building is one of them, Category 1. As a comparison, the President Hotel is also a Category 2, not a Category 1. We’re seeing that later today. I think because there are rehabilitation features that could happen on this building, then the question would be, after those happened is it then eligible for Category 1. That would be a kind of a question that I would have. You know, Category 1, how many Category 1 buildings do we have in Palo Alto. That’s a question I have and what differentiates them from the Category 2s and I don’t have an answer.
Chair Bower: Okay. So, I’d like to suggest that for today, let’s just consider the change from Category 3 to Category 2, but I’m very interested in Margaret’s suggestion and it would be worth having another, looking at this issue at a different meeting. Not that the applicant needs to come, but we as a Board could look at the definitions, look at the list of buildings that are Category 1 and Category 2, and then maybe think about changing the designation at that meeting. But for today, let’s just focus on this change from 3 to 2.
Board Member Wimmer: I just wanted to say one last thing. The Board has discussed that at length before, but we’ve never made any changes to the Categories 1 through 4. We were considering saying historic, nonhistoric, just having one category. I mean, I still think that there is, having 4 categories is good and I think we should maybe have a workshop to take a look at the definitions.
Chair Bower: Okay, great. Thanks Margaret. Martin, do you have any questions?
Board Member Bernstein: Yes. Am I unmuted?
Chair Bower: You are.
Board Member Bernstein: My question would be to the owner or owner representative, has the owner or owner representative considered raising it to Category 1?
Ms. Nehru: We had not considered it but we can look into it. We would have to talk with the owners.
Chair Bower: Is that a no.
Ms. Nehru: No, I'm, I haven't talked to them and this didn't come up at our meetings at all, so...
Chair Bower: I understand. I'm not saying you are not interested in it. I'm just verifying that you hadn't considered it. That's all. So, everybody has spoken. I have a couple of questions about, just detail questions. Do you happen to know the age of that stair, when that stairway in the lobby was installed? Do you have any idea when that came?
Ms. Nehru: No, off the top of my head I do not, but it has been there now for a long time. Maybe Stephanie, the manager of the hotel knows when it was put in.
Chair Bower: I'm asking because if it's over fifty years, it then becomes significant fabric. I think it's over fifty years because I remember it there when I was in high school. So...
Ms. Nehru: Let me meanwhile check with her if she knows this.
Chair Bower: It's just something to consider. It's not really part of this. The next question I have is, I noticed that the building has extraordinary symmetry in its architecture and that the awnings for Osteria, a favorite restaurant of mine, really obscures those upper windows. I'm assuming those windows are still there. Is that the case? I think they are.
Ms. Nehru: Yes, that's correct. They are still there. We peeked inside to check.
Chair Bower: So, I'm wondering if at some point in the future you might consider removing that awning which obscures that important symmetric design. It's half of that Hamilton façade on the first floor, and that maybe there would be another opportunity for signage. Osteria has been there a very long time. It's clearly recognizable and known in the community. I hope it remains there in this difficult time. But it's something I'm just suggesting that at a further or future date might consider unmasking the windows.
Ms. Nehru: Thanks for that comment and yes, we are looking at that.
Chair Bower: Okay, great. Thank you. Those are all my questions. I guess if there are no further Board Member questions, I'll bring this back to the Board for discussion. We will need to create a motion to move this forward and vote on it. So, what we're being asked to do is to recommend that the building be reclassified from a Contributing Building Category 3 to a Major Building Category 2 resource on the History Inventory. So, comments or discussion by Board Members? Let's see, I started with Christian last time. Let me start with Martin this time, since you were at the end. Martin, any discussion?
Board Member Bernstein: Not at this point.
Chair Bower: Okay. How do we go through, Margaret, I guess you are up next. Any discussion?
Board Member Wimmer: Yes. I mean, I'm just going to go back to my original comment about I think this is an exceptional building. I think it's the cornerstone of the Ramona Street District. I think that Palo Alto doesn't have a lot of Category 1 buildings. I think this is an opportunity for us to have, it's an exceptional building. And I don't know strategically if Category 2 gives them more or Category 1 limits them what they can do in the future, but I mean, I'm in support of it being moved up. I would also be in support or encourage them to investigate becoming a Category 1. I mean, we, that could be a feather in Palo Alto's cap, having more historic buildings. I think this is a perfect, it's almost 100 years old, right. It was built in 1924. We're four years away from it being a 100-year-old building. I think it's time for Palo Alto to recognize that and to celebrate that and I think it's an exceptional building. I would encourage the applicant to not settle for Category 2, because I clearly think it's a candidate for a Category 1.
Chair Bower: That’s a good point, Margaret. I think that for today’s consideration we need to stay with the move from 3 to 2, because I think, as I just mentioned, there is, I think there is further investigation before we do that. I’m in support of looking at that and doing that.
Board Member Wimmer: But if we have a motion and we all agree to move it up to a 2, I mean, is this just lost then, or is there... Can we just, I guess when we craft our motion, we can encourage them to investigate a Category 1 in our motion, I guess.
Chair Bower: Amy, do you have a comment on that?
Ms. French: I would just say, you know, let’s stay the course as you suggested a Category 2. That gets them into the floor area bonus territory where they can, you know, hopefully get some benefit to make some additional improvements to the building that would bring it into further compliance at the storefront level, because they’re interested in doing some of those things. And then we can return with whatever they plan to do with the building, be it seismic or historic rehab at the storefront level, and have that discussion again. And if they want to delay going to Council with the upgrade to have those conversations, we can certainly do that. But I wouldn’t want to delay them because we do have a tentative date of June 22 for this category.
Chair Bower: Sure. I think my feeling is that before we move up to Category 1, we would need to look at the awning and some other minor architectural changes that would make a difference. So, I think it’s up to the applicant if they want to postpone it, we can certainly figure out a way to put this back on our agenda to move it up to a Category 1. I don’t see that the action we take today will preclude another hearing to change the category again from 2 to 1. (crosstalk)
Ms. French: David, can I just say before you take a vote that we need to make sure the public is invited to comment if there is anyone to comment on this item. Did we get any requests?
Chair Bower: Oh, thank you. I had that on my list after the Board discussion. So, Vinh, you can look and see if anyone, any public member would like to speak, if they could use the raise your hand feature. After we have this discussion, we will have those comments. So, Debbie, do you have any comments or discussion?
Vice Chair Shepherd: No, I don’t at this time.
Chair Bower: Okay. Mike, how about you?
Board Member Makinen: I pretty much agree with Margaret’s comments that we should look further at a Category 1. I think the motion should contain some wording that the Board strongly recommends further consideration for a higher upgrade or Category 1. I think that should be in the motion.
Chair Bower: Okay. Christian, any discussion?
Board Member Pease: I agree with Mike’s suggestion.
Chair Bower: Okay, I can’t see Martin, but Martin, do you have any further comments?
Board Member Bernstein: No further comment.
Chair Bower: Okay, Vinh, do we have any members of the public who would like to speak to us on this item?
Mr. Nguyen: Yes, we do. We have one raised hand from John. If there is anyone else who wants to speak on this item, please raise your hand now. The raise hand button is at the bottom of your Zoom
screen. If you’re calling in from a phone, you can raise your hand by pressing *9. John, I will unmute you now so you can speak.
John: Thank you Vinh. Can you hear me?
Chair Bower: Yes. Welcome John.
John: Thank you Chair Bower and HRB. Thank you, guys, for looking at this. I’m a big fan and a big supporter of the Cardinal Hotel. I’m so grateful that, like many other owners, but like the Thoits family, the Dahls have just been great caretakers of this asset for so many decades and I applaud and support their application today to move to a Category 2. I understand ya’lls interest and support of even going to a 1. It is a fantastic asset for the downtown. I just want to point out that these kinds of moves and such have lots of implications and issues and costs that the owners need to figure out and to not do anything that’s going to tie their hands, you know, especially in today's economy and COVID-19 and they’re a hotel and all of these things. You know, I would hope, and I don’t know exactly what I’m speaking to. Amy would be the guru, but really, I would just hope ya’ll would approve this so it opens up their avenue for some financing vehicles to help them continue to maintain and analyze projects to enhance the building in the years to come. I just want to voice a very strong level of support. The Thoits family owns buildings across the street as well as throughout the downtown, and it was fun by the way, to see in the historic analysis some of the Thoits family members mentioned for their contributions and activities on neighboring buildings there on Ramona. Oh, I don’t know, 100 years ago. But anyway, I think it’s fantastic and I applaud Stephanie as their manager on the asset to undertake this and explore it, because it’s a great step toward preserving our downtown. I thank ya’ll there and hope you vote yes. Thanks.
Chair Bower: Thank John for sharing and spending time with us today. Of we have no further public comments Vinh?
Mr. Nguyen: Chair Bower, that concludes the public comments for this item.
Chair Bower: Okay, well, let’s move on to crafting a motion. I don’t think it has to be complicated. Anyone want to step up to that. Wow, don’t raise your hands all at once.
**MOTION**
Chair Bower: Well, I can start and then you can tell me, you can let me know if there are things I’m missing. I would say that I move that we recommend that the Council reclassify the building from a Category 3 to a Category 2 building on the Palo Alto Historic Resource Inventory and would encourage the building’s owners to consider a further request at a future date to change from a Category 2 to a Category 1, but that is not contingent on this particular approval. How’s that Amy? Do you think that’s clear?
Ms. French: Yes, I think that works. Certainly, you know, I hear the motion and I think there is something we can do to take a look at the Ramona District and see, you know, how many of those buildings are Category 1 versus Category 2 individually, and I can get a report back to the HRB to help the Board with their deliberation for next steps, if the applicant wishes to go with Category 1.
Chair Bower: I want to be very clear for the minutes, in the minutes that it’s an encouragement to change from Category 2 to Category 1. It is not a requirement and is not, I don’t want the owners to feel like they are being pushed to do something they are uncomfortable with. Because as John just mentioned, there are many implications of changing categories. Okay. Do I have a second?
Board Member Makinen: I’ll second it.
Chair Bower: Okay, Mike, your second. Is there any further discussion or are we ready to vote? I don’t see any further discussion so I’ll just go right down the line and ask people to vote yes in favor or no, not in favor. Christian?
Board Member Pease: Yes.
Chair Bower: Okay. Mike?
Board Member Makinen: Yes.
Chair Bower: Debbie?
Vice Chair Shepherd: Yes.
Chair Bower: Margaret?
Board Member Wimmer: Yes.
Chair Bower: Martin?
Board Member Bernstein: Yes.
Chair Bower: Okay, and I’m also a yes so that’s a unanimous six votes for changing this.
**MOTION PASSED WITH A VOTE OF 6-0.**
Chair Bower: I want to thank all the people who have participated in this, staff and of course, the applicants and the applicant’s consultants. It was a very thorough review and when you see me looking down, I’m actually looking on my iPad at the very long 100-page reports. I’m not reading my phone. But it helps to be able to see that. I can’t do that on my computer. Okay, thank you for that. Thank you for all who have participated. |
Architecture as the art of creating human-friendly places, Lublin public space
Agnieszka Chęć-Małyszek
Department of Architecture and Urban Planning; Lublin University of Technology;
ul. Nadbystrzycka 40, 20-618 Lublin, Poland;
a.chec-malyszek@pollub.pl
0000-0001-6004-0635
Abstract: The public space of a city plays a special role in the life of every human being, as it meets basic and at the same time most important needs related to safety and comfort of life. It is a combination of an idea and a technique, which for centuries has reflected the changes taking place in people’s social and cultural life. While the city is a multi-layered structure with a clearly separated private and public zone, creating mutual relations between the buildings. Camillo Sitte saw the city urban spaces as a work of art, które should be designed in such a way that the inhabitants feel safe and happy, as it is not just a show-off of technical skill, but an artistic undertaking [1]. The art of designing architecture does not exist for itself, but is created for the target audience. It provides a harmony that satisfies human needs and guarantees survival. It is an important factor influencing the development of an individual through the organization of a social living space. Urban spaces are primarily people and their needs that change over time. The first part of the article is devoted to the role of public spaces and the idea of the city as a work of art. The second part, in turn, is an attempt to define architecture as a kind of fine arts, taking into account the role it plays in the social life of Lublin’s residents. The article is an attempts to emphasize the importance of architecture in designing a human-friendly environment as an art design that meets social expectations with the use of selected examples urban space of the city of Lublin.
Keywords: architecture, art, work of art, public space, urban space
1. Introduction
One of the definitions describing architecture is the art of shaping space [2]. Creative design means creating space and creating an original and unique work of art. The architect, by observing nature, develops his sensitivity to the surrounding space, becoming a creative designer. The space created by him becomes an area of new quality, a meeting place, which often combines painting, sculpture and architecture. He/she creates a new area that is accessible and friendly to people.
Architecture is a combination of ideas and technical possibilities, as well as satisfaction of basic human needs, which result from the changes taking place in social and cultural life. It
has a very important social function, as it satisfies humans physically, mentally and spiritually, guaranteeing their harmonious functioning in the environment [3]. Contemporary and past products of architecture have a direct influence on man. The space organized by the architect provides people not only with shelter, but also satisfies them emotionally and mentally.
Architecture has a communicational function that the designer (artist) uses to realize her vision as well as satisfies his dreams and desires, where the image serves as a link between the architect and the recipient, between the architectural object and culture. It is shaped under the influence of two components: cultural and physical. They allow for the distinction between the figurative-architectural form and the user-construction form. The image of an architectural object through signs, codes and culture is transferred from the realm of everyday reality to cultural space, where the architectural form is incorporated into the sphere of culture. It is the physical form of one’s fantasy and a mirror which reflects people’s minds. It gives form and shape to what does not exist yet, and it lasts even after people’s death [4].
Today’s architecture uses the latest technologies and solutions, created with respect for people and the surrounding nature. It is the most complete and the richest domain, constituting one coherent organism, which stimulates one to think, just like art does. Nowadays, many people are looking for architecture that can cope with the biological, sensual and motoric life of a human being. More and more often architectural projects create a close relationship with the environment, nature or climate as it has been the case with Japanese architects for centuries.
Architecture defines a certain area, gives them functions, defines meaning, creates cities and villages. It changes the environment, people and their moods. It sanctifies places, constitutes the structural framework of reality, arranges space, closes or opens buildings. Architecture makes the world visible, can have a therapeutic, but also destructive power. It creates borders between public and private space. It is the peak of human creativity, as evidenced by many contemporary buildings. Architecture has gone beyond its existing, easily definable boundaries. Architects are no longer just designers, but cultural agents, pioneers of new ideas, making it possible for people to change from one way of life to another. Architecture can write its own stories [5].
The article discusses the importance of selected public spaces and stresses their role in the social life of Lublin residents. It presents examples of friendly urban spaces that enable people to satisfy not only their basic needs, but also those of a higher order, such as the need for self-realization, acceptance, and inspiration. They are spaces that inspire action and stimulate creativity. The article also analyses literature related to the city and its multidimensional character. On the basis of the proposed examples and own observations from Lublin, the role of architecture as an art fulfilling social expectations and increasing the comfort of social life is shown.
### 2. Architecture – space – happiness – significance
In the history of architecture there was no shortage of such periods in which rationalistic elements prevailed over arithmetic elements and vice versa. It often happened that the high level of technical skills of an architect was far from what was necessary to satisfy basic psychological needs of a human being.
Since the beginning of history, man has been involved in the construction of buildings and the organization of the surrounding space. With time, humans began to give their works more and more interesting spatial shapes, which satisfied the need for beauty, harmony and aesthetics.
For years, scholars have been wondering what architecture really is and what kind of creative activity it manifests itself in. History shows that due to the specific nature of the subject matter and the impact on man, there were difficulties in qualifying it into any field of art. In ancient times architecture included such skills as astronomy, astrology, construction of sundials or machine construction, but with time its activity and function was limited only to the design of goods for human use [6].
Over the centuries, the definition of architecture (gr.arcitèkton – builder) has undergone many changes, which were related to what and to whom the architectural art was to serve. The most characteristic for those times was the definition contained in the Great French Encyclopaedia, which reads as follows: the architecture is rich in its own soil, provides so much material, that it is clearly distinguishable from other arts, it covers issues so unique and specific only to itself, that it should be presented separately and remain within the limits of its own domain [7, p. 27].
The majority of the theorists of those times unanimously expressed the view that architecture was supposed to serve man above all and cannot be useless. It should meet the social needs of citizens, remaining in close connection with tradition and contemporary conditions in which it is created.
The 19th century marked out a new field of activity in art, thus separating it from reality and transferring it into the sphere of romantic tendencies. It contributed to turning to the rapidly developing technology in the field of construction, which was the main means of implementing the architect’s idea. The division that emerged between architecture and new technology contributed to the search for a new concept for it. John Ruskin (1819-1900), wrote that architecture is nothing more, than an ornament added to a building, George Gilbert Scott (1811-1878): architecture unlike an ordinary building is the decoration of the structure a Edwin Lutyens, (1869-1944) architecture begins where, its function ende [6, p. 23].
The beginning of the 20th century saw a more formalistic definition of architecture as the art of constructing and organizing space expressed through construction [8]. The best-known definition proposed by Le Corbusier is: architecture is a wise, coordinated play of solids in light [9, p. 27]. After World War II, a more profound understanding of architecture as an art resulting from form and shape, called the art of shaping space, began to emerge.
The changes that took place in the 19th and 20th centuries in the field of technology in construction were so fascinating that they contributed to the lack of attention to the functional and aesthetic values of buildings. The beauty of the buildings was neglected. Therefore, people began to seek contact with ancient art and monuments of architecture, in which he found undeniably the beauty of the talent of artists and their works. With time, new architectural forms began to unify, often becoming monotonous and boring. Newly built houses and cities became identical and template, devoid of charm and individual beauty, to which man did not like to return. The quality of mental health of the human being was no longer cared for in favour of modern technology and unlimited possibility of comfortable life. The pursuit of technological perfection has pushed the natural needs of man to the margin, thus destroying the sense of order, peace and harmony. Despite the shaping of the reality of the early years, there was a group of architects who were able to use both new technological achievements and the needs of the community.
Today, it is no longer necessary to prove that man demands from architectural design, in addition to the rational benefits of safety, to ensure him/her positive emotional and spiritual experiences. The materials used for architectural projects have a direct impact on human health,
affect all people's senses and enable their healthy development. It is the art of architecture design that is able to meet social expectations, because it has the ability to shape the environment, which is guided by the laws of aesthetics and the rules governing beauty.
Architecture can be considered as a kind of utility art, which creates and divides space, at the same time meeting social expectations, ensuring comfort and safety of life. Marco Frascari has classified it in the category of non-utilitarian art, which satisfies the primordial human need for shelter, by combining materials in such a way as to give them an individual meaning [5].
The concept of architecture consists of two inseparable and mutually complementary elements, such as art and talettes, expressed in the form of architectural realization. An architectural work is defined as any three-dimensional element within a space that is created with the use of the necessary knowledge and talent. It deals with the organization of spatial elements and allows to consolidate the architect’s idea, constituting a more perfect form of art meeting social expectations.
Art, which is a cultural expression, plays a key role here, as the architect’s main task is to create and search for beauty on the basis of familiar rules, principles and available materials. The essence of architecture is not only what the creator herself considers beautiful, but above all the creation of what is expected of her by the community to which belongs [6].
Over the last few decades, the essence of the architect’s activities in shaping space and organizing an environment favourable to man has increased significantly and consciously. Through proper selection of proportions and shapes, logical arrangement, and applicable rules, it has become an art, which has been called architecture for many years. This kind of creative activity often uses knowledge from various scientific disciplines depending on the type and scope of undertaken activities. Architecture is therefore an artistic discipline that organizes and shapes space for human needs, an art whose primary goal is to arouse admiration in the way no other discipline can. It can create timeless works of art that provide shelter and improve the quality of life.
Architecture is the art of building a community that engages both the creator and the recipient. It stands out from all other fields of art in that it presents what is useful to man and constitutes the basis for his existence in the world. It is characterized by a richness of form, which includes a combination of practical and spiritual satisfaction, making it a unique kind of art that fulfills human dreams. Contemporary architecture gives the environment and its inhabitants an identity. It exerts a positive influence on the observer during direct confrontation with the object, surprising him positively. The environment designed in this way is favourable to social life and is a subject of care and understanding for the human being [10].
With regard to the space created by architecture, the most important thing is to focus the senses on positive stimuli and sensory experiences. Architecture is considered to be the art of creating space through specific applications visible to the eyes, which are the basic tool for perceiving buildings with the senses. Touch allows a human to understand the world around him and has great therapeutic potential. Through touch, man experiences the world around him/her and the space in which he moves. Happiness for man is a space that has a natural and unforced positive effect on human senses and body [11].
3. Architecture and art
Over the centuries, many masters of architecture have created their own definitions, which talked about the values of architecture and art, attributed to them at the time of their formulation. Many attempts have been made to determine which manifestations of human
activity should be classified as art, which as architecture, and which criteria should be used to define them.
Władysław Tatarkiewicz, when formulating the definition of art, claimed that it is a conscious and not instinctive skill, which is used to produce things according to the rules prevailing in a given epoch. It involves reconstructing things, constructing forms, and expressing experiences in a way to delight, move, or shake the viewer [12]. Roland Fréart de Chambray wrote that: \textit{Art is an infinite thing, which develops and evolves continuously. It adapts to the disposition of centuries and nations, which have different judgements and define beauty, each in their own way} [13, p. 13].
Czesław Przybylski defined architecture as \textit{art that seeks to create works of art that evoke a familiar shudder in the recipients, by which we recognize that we are faced with a real work of art} [14, p. 28]. Similarly, Le Corbusier talked about the state of mind that allows the observer to admire architecture, creating the world of art [9]. Architecture is therefore an art of building, a science enriched with knowledge from various fields, which is used to create unique works of art.
Throughout the various epochs, the division of the definition of art has changed many times, and it was only in the middle of the 18\textsuperscript{th} century that Charles Betteux used the term \textit{fine art} for the first time. The above mentioned formulations are an extremely important element in the deliberations on the concept of architecture, as the art of shaping space in the aspect of the existence of the concept of the theory of architectural art. This theory contributed to the fact that architecture was recognized as a field of art which created a new, urban landscape. It began to be perceived not only as a building material, but also as one of the forms of art responsible for creating space for people.
Architecture is an art in the full sense of the word, it is a mathematical order, fulfilled harmony, which is based on the proportions of all its components [15]. Two prominent philosophers, G.W.F. Hegel (1770-1831) and G.Lukács (1885-1971), believed that architecture expands the basic type of house according to the basic criterion of beauty. A house is a man-made and man-serving man building [16]. Architecture is a real space in which human life takes place, so it is different from a typical drawing or painting space [17]. It is closely connected with art, since it shapes social space by means of artistic forms of expression, where its main aim is to design for people.
The art of architectural design is a reflection of the individual moods and tensions of the creator, expressed in the original shape and form. It often results from the natural predispositions of the designer, which allow to realize the imaginary spatial form in the real world [6]. Every creator lives in the world of imagination, which is the spatial imagination of an architect. An architectural work can be considered good if it simultaneously responds to social needs in economic, functional and structural terms.
Architecture is a form of visual art that differs from sculpture, graphics, painting and photography in that it is not able to reproduce with such detail and truthfulness the visual images created by the real world. It also cannot give such a clear and comprehensive idea of forms or colours that exist in nature. Architecture is also very different from construction, because only a building that delights with its beauty, form, rhythm and proportions can be considered a true work of art of architecture [18].
\footnote{States that as a result of the extensive influence of French culture in the 17\textsuperscript{th} and 18\textsuperscript{th} centuries, the concept of fine arts was accepted by Anglo Saxon theorists as meaning a philosophical entity, to such an extent that it has been widely forgotten that, in France itself, the profession of architect had been completely separate from Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture until they were forced to merge after the French Revolution.}
The art of architectural design is generally considered to be everything that came into being in its real spatial shape and serves a specific purpose. The process of creating this work of art begins with an idea that requires, above all, an extraordinary creative effort and commitment of the designer-artist. What counts here is the whole creative process, and not just the final result itself, considered an architectural work [6]. Therefore, it is difficult to imagine that a project (drawing) being an element of art could be created without a concept and without imagining it, at least in the most general outline, in the creative process.
The art of architectural design consists of three basic stages, such as: an idea created in the imagination of the creator, a drawing design and its realization (i.e. execution in accordance with the design in nature). This process is very similar to the creation of a painting work of art. The painter, before starting to make a painting, imagines creating a project, creates a sketch and finally realises and presents the work. The creative act allows the artist to express his/her own idea through drawing to the very existence of the work itself. Edward Warder Rannels argues that architecture should be studied as a form of art, a material realization of concepts and artistic goals, as in the case of other forms of art such as sculpture and painting, and even poetry and music [19].
Creating a painting by an artist is similar to architectural design, as when painting an image, the artist starts with composition and adds further elements, such as colour or light, which determine its territory. From the circle, the architect, while designing, starts from the functional arrangement, light or the form of a solid presented by means of a drawing, ending with the realization in space. Architects, like artists, with their work present a separate creative attitude, through which they mark their presence in the designed work. The painted image becomes meaningful when it comes into contact with the viewer, and similarly, architecture begins to exist when the user starts to benefit from it, and only then the designer’s vision is fulfilled.
Architecture is one of those fields of creativity that have always served man and the whole community. The form in which this process takes place is often influenced by the inner inspiration of the author, who is aware of all economic and social conditions. The creator of an architectural work has always been and will always be a person who is a part of society closely related to his environment. He is able to feel intentions and needs, takes into account his habits and contributes to the individual intellectual development of a person. He has the ability (gift) of spatial imagination, thanks to which he creates works that meet the expectations of the community in which he functions. During the creative design process, the architect takes into account not only the immediate environment in which the work is to be executed, but also all topographical, climatic, functional, structural, economic and social conditions. Like a painter painting a picture who gradually covers his canvas with paint, the architect fills the empty space with architectural content. He uses the means of expression characteristic of the artist, such as composition, light, texture, dynamism and the functional arrangement that forms the basis of the composition, triggering the same creative processes. Skillful use of current technological and constructional solutions by the architect allows him/her to realize an idea that integrates art with technology.
Architecture is an art that has a permanent and direct impact on the human environment. It enters all forms of social life, influencing culture, psyche and customs, where every decision made by an architect can have an impact on decades of social life. An architectural work is an inseparable element of social life, which influences its further development. People are the main users of architectural objects, which reflect their economic, political or social needs. It is visible in various forms, such as the organization of space, urban areas, places of work or
leisure. Therefore, regardless of whether it is a sports, work or leisure centre, these facilities are designed to meet human needs in such a way that the user likes them visually and enjoys spending time in them [20].
Contemporary creative architectural design includes not only objects, but also the whole environment, as well as the very relationship of the work with the recipient, which is man [21]. It includes interactions with the user where the architectural work is closely related to art, and has integrative and mutually stimulating properties.
Almost from the very beginning of the art of design, architects have worked with artists both on building projects and on the interior design itself. Today, the artist increasingly plays an important role in the design process, where together with the architect, he/she creates unique works such as Serpentine Pavillon (2007) in London or FAT Architecture for Alain de Botton’s Living Architecture [22].
Observing the current work of architects, it can be said that for some time now, it has focused mainly on the humanization of architecture. This has resulted in a greater understanding of architecture and its subservient role in social life. Architectural art took on the right meaning in the search for beauty, the pursuit of harmony, proper proportions, justified plastic shape, in other words, everything that can and should bring aesthetic satisfaction. One of the manifestations of these tendencies among contemporary architects is the presentation of their visions in the form of a plastic model, which is an inseparable element of a project drawn up on paper.
In the art of design (...) ideas do not have to be complicated and most of them are successful because they are simple and functional [20].
4. Architecture for people and urban/public space
Architecture itself does not really exist as a stand alone concept, because it is always in some kind of environment called architectural space. Therefore, the very environment in which the object will be created is important. When creating new spaces, the architect must first of all take care of the sustainable development of the space, because he/she is responsible for the possibility of its being used by future generations.
Camillo Sitte wrote about the importance of urban spaces for man, who believed that beautiful architectural spaces have a positive impact on man [1,p.8]. Jan Gehl, on the other hand, stressed that architecture should respond to social needs and provide a sense of happiness [23]. The influence and significance of architectural spaces on people was the focus of great modernists, such as Le Corbusier and Frank Lloyd Right, who aimed for maximum functionality and comfort, meeting social expectations – providing happiness [24]. Le Corbusier raised the issue of anticipating and responding to the needs of individuals [25]. Jane Jacobs presented the city streets as the quintessence of social life, which provided security and successful social life [26]. The city is not only supposed to be beautiful but also friendly to people, it should satisfy aspirations and the need to establish social contacts [27]. Raymon Unwin believed that architectural projects should provide the greatest possible comfort for residents and improve their lives [28]. Kevin A. Lynch made a breakthrough in the heritage of urban planning by exploring how individuals move around the urban landscape, how they perceive it, and what impact the urban environment will have on them [29]. Christian de Portzamparc saw architecture not only as a professional discipline, but as a social responsibility [30].
The public space of the city, as Camillo Sitte wrote, is: a living element of cultural development, [1, p. 17] where the elements that make it up should be human-friendly in order
to satisfy the people’s needs for mental and physical comfort of life, by establishing social contacts [1, p. 23].
In a public space, a person should find what is conducive to his/her well-being, inner balance and leads to closer social ties. These are factors that strengthen the sense of social dignity, where a friendly environment fosters an attitude of respect towards the users of a given space. This is closely related to accessibility, lack of physical barriers, sense of identity and security. Public space has an impact not only on the quality of life but also on social relations, which can be described as social dignity of life [31].
In her article on dignity in public spaces, Nora Jacobson highlights a number of important issues. Attractive urban spaces are those that meet the need for self-confidence, peace, trust and solidarity that allow users to count on each other’s support. The author also emphasizes the important role of beauty and peace of the environment, as a feature that strengthens the sense of human dignity [20]. In this context, the art of designing local spaces takes on two important meanings. On the one hand, its value is influenced by the material form, i.e. the existing architecture, its shape in the form of furniture, equipment, sculptures, monuments and other symbolic elements. On the other hand, the well-being of the users depends on the motivations in which a person, in a formal or informal way, is guided in the creation of relations between the users.
The city is a spatial and social structure in which people live, work, play, use different services, gain education, enjoy entertainment, and experience culture. Nowadays, already at the design stage, more and more attention is paid to ensure that each component functions properly and is used in the most effective way. The concept of a friendly city, which is sustainable, healthy, safe and more accessible, is becoming increasingly common. Cities that not only satisfy basic human needs but also inspire and stimulate human creativity.
Architectural forms used in space, serve as elements of terrain, where greenery and water are components of urban and architectural space. They positively influence the perception of the city landscape. Thanks to their characteristic features, they become important landmarks on the mental map of the city. They can be orientation points, contact points, or places that stand out for their unique identity and original, non-standard appearance [32]. It is not art to erect monuments, but the real art is to shape a large space in a sustainable, functional and environmentally friendly way. The beauty of architecture is the whole of spatial activities, not a single object detached from the rest.
Architectural work, is a permanent element of the human environment, which regulates the way of life and existence. Architecture has an indirect impact on human life because of the place of residence in the city or housing estate, as well as the building or apartment. Currently, the most important issue for the architect is to design spaces that ensure above all mental health and comfort of social life. Architecture is responsible for the art of shaping space for the benefit of all mankind.
The basic task of architecture is to design the building and its proper adaptation for the potential user and to provide him/her with a visual aesthetic appearance. Vitruvius, thousands of years ago, said that, durability, usability and beauty must be taken into account during construction process [33]. Contemporary architect has a difficult task, because he has to decide himself what and how to design a building in order to encourage the recipient and meet his/her expectations. Architecture has one more very important task, namely to organize the human space in the perspective of the building and the whole city.
Architecture itself does not exist, but it is always in some kind of environment, that is, it creates an architectural space which is not only a spatial structure, but above all, it is created by people and their changing needs.
5. The value of city space and human beings
Nowadays, many towns and cities are dominated by the expansion of modern urban and architectural solutions, creating a uniform structure. To meet the expectations and needs of residents, architects more and more often create places where urban space regains its human dimension, co-creates and enriches the cultural heritage of a given area. The realization of the architects’ vision serves to improve the living conditions of the inhabitants by creating new spaces for recreation, meetings, having fun, and resting. Increasingly, unused urban areas are being transformed, making them more accessible and attractive for the users themselves.
Contemporary cities are often difficult to move around due to the lack of important landmarks, which adversely affects the sense of security and psychological comfort of a person. A large part of people spend their free time more and more often in impersonal shopping malls, which replace traditional shopping habits existing for centuries in city spaces. The interiors of shopping malls, in fact, are a substitute for a human-friendly space, as they do not have the appropriate, powerful enough to make life buzz in them [27]. Manuel Castells believes that time and space are being transformed by modern information technology. Modern society is organized around a space that is based on flows of capital, information, technology, images, sounds and symbols. In this space, time is deformed and physical space disappears [34].
For Manuel Castells, it was clear that everything that generates power, money or information is linked to the exchange of network impulses. For him, one type of power is to create and control cultural codes, that is, ways of thinking about ourselves and the world around us. At the same time, he claimed that the abundance of information makes us stop in the consumption phase [35]. In his paradigm on information technology, Manuel Castells pointed out the ubiquitous influence of new technologies on all human activities, which would serve to revitalise local communities (rebuilding civil society) and encourage greater political participation [34], p.10-15.
According to Castells, alongside the use of digital social networks, it is important for social movements to create new public space. To this end, social movements can occupy urban space and buildings of symbolic significance, as such spaces create a community that opens up public space for a debate [36].
Nowadays, society is dominated by haste, which affects the whole of human life and the finalization of man. Sociologists are recording more and more dissatisfaction with life, and the constant chase does not allow us to enjoy everyday life. Paul Virilio believed that the increasing speed of life raises a factor that broadens the scope of human power on the one hand and violates human rights by concealing violence on the other. He believed that every new device brings about a form of disaster. As a representative of a post-modern paradigm of thinking, he was convinced that reality had become out of control, no longer being possible to be understood in any way [37].
Nowadays, it is becoming increasingly easy for modern people to gain various pleasures, and this is largely due to the technical devices that shorten our work. And although it would seem that we should have more time for ourselves, there is still not enough of it. That is why it is so important to create spaces where people can stop, at least for a moment in the city centre, to enjoy nature, the surrounding environment and relax.
In his book *The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces*, published in 1980, W.H. White described the close relationship between the quality of urban space and social activity, proving that even small changes and improvements can significantly enhance the quality of life of the inhabitants of the Mishmen [38].
We live in a consumer society today, which significantly affects all aspects of our lives. Due to increasing consumption, people are becoming a commodity in the consumer and labour markets [39]. The constant rush that accompanies man does not give him the opportunity to think about using his free time, which in turn leads to internal emptiness.
The dynamic development of new technologies has led not only to changes in the way of thinking but also in behaviour in physical space. Nowadays we live in a population of people who think and react differently, as well as have a different way of understanding the world and the space around them [40]. Contemporary urban space increasingly encourages the user to both rest and play. It is a form of human activity that makes the user happier and is so important in times of consumerism.
In the centres of large European cities, people often feel good, as the streets and squares are picturesquely woven into the urban landscape. It is believed that well-designed spaces are the ones that we see and remember, the ones we are happy to return to and have a nice memory of. All this is due to the visual value of a given place, which is not only a source of comfort, but at the same time constitutes a psychological abatement for the inhabitants.
People are also observers of the public spaces around them. They accept the material reality in which they live with its values, building an emotional connection with the surrounding space. As user-inhabitants, they adapt their reactions to their surroundings, while tourists (visitors) contemplate a given space by means of subjective experiences, creating an image of a given place, which they use to recreate images and emotions connected with it from memory.
In the rush of everyday life, very often the inhabitants do not have time to use the available spaces or even admire them. Increasingly, urban life (congestion, noise, etc.) is associated with a number of stressful factors that lead to exhaustion and fatigue. However, it turns out that such spaces are very much needed because they have a positive impact on the user and determine their behavior. Making these spaces accessible to the public provides the residents with the opportunity to recover from everyday stress, stimulates positive reactions and above all allows them to relax. Often such zones bind different areas of the city together, providing a background for development or stimulating social activity. Thus, the spaces proposed below positively determine the behaviour of the residents and their reactions, and contribute to rebuilding an emotional connection with their immediate surroundings.
*After all, the space surrounding a human being should be a kind of work of art, because it can influence his or her mental state, giving him or her peace and joy, stimulating his or her comprehensive development* [41, p. 21]. This type of space is, therefore, not only a source of emotional experience, but also a stimulus for positive impressions, which increase the feeling of security in inner-city areas. The most important value of these spaces, which are part of the city landscape, is their legibility and ease of movement.
On the basis of own observations and analysis, a characterisation of selected examples of urban spaces under the account of openness, interest, accessibility, comfort and influence on the development of civil society was conducted (Tab.1). The analysis was conducted on selected spaces of the city of Lublin as such, such as: Saski Garden (Fig. 1), Plac Litewski Square (Fig. 2) and the Krakowskie Przedmieście Street promenade (Fig. 3). These spaces have been designed to serve their residents in visual, aesthetic and social terms. Each of these
spaces is subject to personal evaluation by its users, who appreciate its advantages resulting from direct contact with the environment. The most important function they perform for both residents and visitors (tourists) is to provide opportunities to establish social contacts.
Tab.1. Table illustrating the evaluation criteria for the selected public spaces
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Public space</th>
<th>Is it open to everybody?</th>
<th>Does it have something interesting for everybody?</th>
<th>Can it attract people from all the town?</th>
<th>Does it have framework for city development?</th>
<th>Is it life-friendly area?</th>
<th>Can it help to develop a citizen life?</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Saski Garden</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+/-</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Litewski Square</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Krakowskie Przedmieście Street</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+/-</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+/-</td>
<td>+</td>
<td>+</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Fig. 1. The Saski Garden in Lublin, author’s photograph, 2019
Fig 2. Litewski Square in Lublin, author’s photograph, 2019
The Saski Garden (Fig. 1) was established in 1837 on the initiative of Ignacy Lubowiecki, President of the Lubelskie Voivodeship Commission, according to the design of engineer Feliks Bieczyński. The idea of its creation was to build a public park for a wealthy social group of Lublin. When designing the space, the architect wanted to refer to the existing Czartoryski Park in Puławy, which became his inspiration. The original garden was located on Lubartowska Street, on the Czechówka River, but because of the distance from the Old Town, a new location was chosen, which once belonged to the Dominican Order in Wieniawa. The name Saski Garden itself was taken from the Warsaw garden thanks to the residents of Lublin, who believed that the park at that time was as beautiful as the one in the capital city [42].
The first step towards the renovation of the garden was taken in the mid-nineties on behalf of the Municipal Economy Department of the Office. After the renovation, the garden became more accessible for the community of Lublin and visitors. In 2012, the area was again thoroughly rebuilt to please its residents. Currently, the garden is divided into sectors, where you can walk through beautiful alleys filled with colorful vegetation. You can relax here on a bench near a pond or visit a playground equipped with modern and colorful equipment that attracts parents with children for long hours. We can find here a bird cage, a sundial, a gazebo and a concert shell where cultural events take place. There are also a few preserving elements of art in the form of sculptures, monuments or artefacts of small architecture, which create a unique and legible structure of the park he objects placed in different locations, are charac-
characteristic landmarks, at which you can stop at least for a moment. They give a unique identity to a given place and create characteristic points of tension, impressions, sensations and emotions.
The SASKI Garden is an ideal place to take a break from the daily hustle and bustle of the city, which makes it very popular not only among Lublin residents but also visitors. This area is a special place, which is the space of generally accessible recreational interior. Additionally, it has many surprising and architecturally interesting solutions created for the needs and with the thought of its inhabitants in mind. The friendly space created by the garden allows to slow down the pace, creates an enclave of peace and continuity, allows to maintain social contacts, anchors the man in history and culture, providing a sense of bliss. Here we can find spaces for different age groups of people, activating also young people and children. It is a peculiar social space. The park is an attraction through specially designed greenery, which only provides isolation from the street noise, but will provide shelter on hot days. It consists of multi-threaded forms of colorful vegetation, which provide a play of light and shadow introducing a mysterious atmosphere. The area of the garden is a place where the inhabitants of the city enter into relations with other people, at the same time reading the meaning coded in space. The area of the park is accessible to all people, enabling confrontation with the users of the city, where people want to meet, act and feel the joy of being there.
Litewski Square was established in the 1820s and was originally called Drilling Square, being intended for military parades (Fig. 2). Nowadays, it is located in the former suburb of Krakow. The area used to be located between the main trade route of the city and the road running along the Świętokrzyskie estate in the direction of the Wieniawa district [43]. Currently, the square is located outside the compact buildings of Krakowskie Przedmieście and has the shape of a triangle. Since 1839 it has been called Litewski Square. It includes a monument to the 3rd of May Constitution, a monument to Marshal Józef Piłsudski, and a tomb of an unknown soldier.
Litewski Square is one of the most important places on the map of Lublin. It often plays a representative role because of the most important celebrations and national holidays that take place there. In 2017, its thorough revitalization was completed, which contributed to even greater interest in it. It is regularly used as a place of meetings and interesting cultural events, becoming a perfect meeting place for families with children, looking for a moment of rest. Since its revitalisation, Litewski Square has become even more important for the residents of Lublin. There is a music-playing, illuminated fountain in the central part of the square, a string of fountains along the new part of the promenade next to the building of the Polish Post Office, and modern and colourful child’s facilities, such as swings and slides, that attract whole families. The modernised so-called Lublin’s living room has been rebuilt both for its inhabitants and tourists to allow spending a pleasant time here. The new space has gained an interesting layout of paths, green squares and modern elements of art, becoming beautiful and above all, useful place for residents. This area brings together many generations into one place. It is one of the important points characteristic for the city of Lublin, which allows people to calm down, relax, and sometimes make new friends.
Another of the main places of this type in Lublin is Krakowskie Przedmieście Street (Fig. 3), which in a natural way is an important space for city dwellers, both in terms of usefulness and visual aspects. The name Krakowskie Przedmieście used to mean not only a street, but in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance the whole district, opposite the Krakow Gate, around the route leading to Krakow, was defined in this way. In 1575 there was a fire in which most of the medieval buildings, both the suburbs, burned down. The reconstructed house on Krakowskie Przedmieście Street was already bricked up, which made the city an important centre for the nobility of the time. In 1657, affected by war damage with the Swedes, Lublin fell into decline. Krakowskie Przedmieście ceased to be a representative street and turned into an ordinary utility district. The fall of the street lasted until the partitions, although during the reign of Stanislaw August Poniatowski (the Krakowska Gate was then renovated). In the years 1815-1918 Lublin was ruined by wars, where only the Municipal Office introduced the city from a deep crisis within a dozen or so years, and expanded and modernized it. In the interwar period, Krakowskie Przedmieście was the city’s main and most representative street and has become, after Ogród Saski [the Saxon Garden], the favourite walking place for Lublin residents to this day [44]. Of particular attraction for the residents are downtown streets with traffic off, like part of Krakowskigo Przedmieście Street, where all its width is available for pedestrians. In favourable climatic conditions, restaurateurs put tables and chairs outside, decorate them with flowers or colourful cushions, giving them a warm and cosy character. They are a perfect space for various cultural events, meetings, shows, and performances of different nature and content. The more functions they perform, the more important these spaces are. The square
is a place to meet with friends, go for shopping, walks and participate in cultural events. The multifunctionality of these spaces should be seen as an important feature that proves the quality of public spaces created for people.
Two types of urban public spaces, such as parks and city squares, play a very important role/function in fulfilling citizens’ needs. These spaces are accessible, inclusive, and enable social relations to be carried out, offering a variety of activities such as walking or cycling. When analysing the multifunctionality of public spaces, attention should be paid to the location of commercial spaces within them, which undoubtedly increases the importance of the spaces used [45].
The art of building space should be beauty in its broadest sense. When we talk about the beauty of contemporary architecture, we mean the whole environment that surrounds it. It is these spaces that are closest to man, because it is in them that people are brought up and learn of aesthetics and beauty of architecture. The environment creates awareness and, depending on what it looks like, it shapes the aesthetic sensitivity of people in it. Inhabiting a given environment, a person often gets used to particular places, which often means accepting both their advantages and disadvantages. Therefore, the space in which we are brought up is of great importance because it is this space that shapes our sense of beauty and aesthetics of the surrounding space.
The examples of public spaces presented above are not only of utilitarian but also of emotional importance for the residents of Lublin. It is in their area that various activities of both individual and social character are carried out. In this context, their quality, accessibility, and functionality are important. Friendly spaces are areas in which individuals carry out various activities giving the rhythm of life to its inhabitants are those that are often used to implement activities of a civic or political nature. The modern city provides a stable basis for people to take up new challenges, i.e. to actively spend their free time in friendly spaces. Cyclical old age fairs, food fairs taking place in the very centre of the Old Town, are conducive to building social bonds with simultaneous trade exchange. All these elements testify to the character of a given city and are important identification points not only for its inhabitants but also for tourists.
The image of contemporary architecture of many cities is an event between architecture and its user, which reveals the essence of the place. In its opinion, the basic one is to adapt to the requirements of contemporary man. The way of experiencing this event is fully dependent on its expectations of the space in which it is located, used, where it becomes its most important part. Public space arranges public, collective life and enables closer interpersonal contacts, which releases positive emotions, which are often missing in everyday life.
Friendly and accessible architecture is both for architects and people. The first one is characterized by the desire to surprise the viewer with a novelty by using new technology, scale, form or texture. The second focuses on creating friendly spaces in which people can feel safe and good. The search for novelty and innovation will always be more attractive than tedious “creation”, but the demand for human and environmentally friendly architecture is greater and more desirable than for shocking constructions.
The public spaces presented above are meeting places that have grown almost to become social ‘institutions’, so important that life cannot be imagined without them. They are a guarantee of urbanity and social coexistence. They emphasise the relationship between man and space, which leads to emotional bonds and gives them a sense of security. Parks, green areas or streets with traffic off, are often a source of physical activity that is so necessary for the
emotional and mental health of society, and also a lifesaver for the city. An important feature of all these newly created and reconstructed urban spaces is to adapt to changes in society and nature in such a way as to meet social needs and expectations. Nowadays, for architects, it is no longer the primary objective to shock people with more and more complex projects, but to serve people and their needs. The currently emerging projects-solutions are adapted to constantly changing social, economic and environmental conditions. These urban spaces that are being rebuilt are adopted in such a way as to keep up with the constant changes and thus meet social expectations.
5. Conclusions
Nowadays, every city creates a complex organism which is supposed to satisfy all human needs and conditions. Shaping the structure of the city space requires cooperation between specialists and experts in various fields, so that a well-functioning, vibrant, healthy and friendly organism can be created. Individual city spaces should create a synergetic system which, above all, will be conducive to living in ever-changing conditions. It is often said that the work of a designer-architect ends when a given building is put into use, but only then does the architecture begin to fulfil its social function, that is its most important function for which it was created. It directly influences the shaping of human behaviour and provides support in everyday life and the urban environment. One of the key factors that enables urban spaces to meet expectations is the willingness and frequency of visiting and spending time with loved ones and family in these spaces.
Over the years, the awareness of design and the perception of the social role of the architect have changed. Currently-designed buildings do not lose their message and do not constitute only an impersonal spatial form. They have gained a new dimension of art based on designing in accordance with the environment. Designers follow current trends in art and architecture and choose what is modern, practical and friendly to people and their surroundings. They are often beautiful, designed with a sense of taste and care for the natural environment. For an architect, people’s needs and their mental, social and aesthetic condition, have become the primary goal.
Contemporary architecture is free of any limitations, it represents what is here and now by means of an astonishing variety of forms and shapes. The inseparable relationship between art and architecture allows us to create extraordinary objects, almost without limitations, whose functionality and care for people are in harmony with nature.
Aesthetic, functional and attractive creative design has become the architect’s overriding goal. Buildings are created in such a way that the user enjoys his place of work or residence so that he can come back to it willingly and find it enjoyable to stay inside.
On the basis of the presented examples, it can be concluded that most of the works of contemporary architecture and urban planning are favorable to man and the surrounding environment. Architects create projects for and with people in mind, while meeting their needs, expectations and dreams. Useful design for the community is a difficult task that requires emotional intelligence, maturity and commitment from an architect. Every designed object is a brick in this complex machine, which is a city. It is buildings such as flats, shops, workplaces, meetings and recreation places that satisfy people spiritually, mentally and visually, changing the whole of social life.
Contemporary architecture, instead of dwellings or workplaces, creates living spaces that offer diverse lifestyles, where in different parts of the city, work, study, and recreation
take place as close as possible to each other. This is a very important part of social, cultural and economic life, which focuses on the needs of people creating places to live. Recipients of architectural spaces are very diverse, therefore they are treated as an important element of integration in the city where the identity of the place results from the community and the people who create it.
Architecture creates a given space, places where people have grown up and are usually the most lasting memory for them. More and more often people need this kind of rest, during which they would shade themselves physically and mentally from everything. Then they look for places from where they can rest comfortably and remain the owners of the area for a while, which gives them a sense of security. Public space is treated as a place for meetings, communication and dialogue between people. Parks, streets or squares are places that are known to establish and maintain contact with other people. Nowadays, architects not only design the city, but also give it a function by introducing various types of chase (e.g. benches, tables, hammocks, swings), which encourages inhabitants to spend their free time there.
It seems that today, more than ever, public space has to compete with the virtual world, with spending time on the Internet or with social life in social media. That is why it is so important to create spaces that provide people with a sense of happiness, becoming an oasis of peace, tranquillity and the joy of everyday life.
References
Architecture as the art of creating human-friendly places, Lublin public space
|
The Modern Landscape Architecture of the Université de Montréal Campus
Nicole Valois
The original French version of this article was published in Cahiers de géographie du Québec, Volume 56, No. 158, September 2012.
Translation by Nancy Dunton.
Introduction
The landscape of the Université de Montréal campus, because of the way it is sited on the north flank of Mount Royal, is unique. The tower of the main building, situated on the mountain’s summit and surrounded by greenery, is one of the iconographic images of Montreal, imprinted on the minds of Montrealers and visitors alike. Undoubtedly because of the prestige that it evokes, the institution regularly uses this image for promotional purposes, as a way of signalling its status as one of the great research universities of Canada.¹ Representing the university by promoting the main pavilion and its presence on Mount Royal does, however, push other components of the campus to the background. Buildings and landscape elements built at other times, because of their architectural quality and their ability to represent the evolution of architecture and landscape architecture in Quebec, have themselves a great deal of value (Cameron et al. 2008 and 2010). Therefore, from all the projects that have left their mark on the campus, certain ones deserve particular attention, most notably the open spaces that date from the 1960s.
There have been several publications about the architecture and the history of the campus, including Bizier (1993) and Gournay (1990), but until now no study has looked exclusively at the composition of exterior spaces - and this despite the fact that these spaces were the object of particular attention in the 1960s as the major components of the campus expansion. The reasons for this shortcoming are many. In the first place, there is very little documentation of exterior spaces in Canada apart from professional journals. This perhaps falls under the larger heading of how little we know about the profession of landscape architecture itself which contributed to the creation of these spaces. Secondly, as is the case for most large residential and institutional ensembles, it is difficult to separate the architectural elements from the open spaces of the campus that they form part of. The oldest are, moreover, the work of exclusively one designer. Nevertheless, Cameron et al. (2008 and 2010) have demonstrated that they can be looked at as separate entities, particularly those built in the 1960s. This view holds true when looking at the work of La Haye et associés, a renowned firm of urban planners who contributed to shaping today’s campus where the open spaces are components of the overall design, equal in
¹ The tower of the Cormier building represents, according to certain authors, the freeing of the francophone intellectual community from the religious hegemony present in Quebec in that era and the desire to occupy the north flank of the mountain in direct opposition to McGill University on the southern slope (Gournay 1990).
importance to the buildings, the roads and the wooded areas. The spaces surrounding the buildings of this period were, for the most part, designed independently of the buildings; consequently, their documentation lends itself readily to analysis.
This article looks at the open spaces of the modern era on the campus. By presenting the planning principles which guided their design as well as the context in which the master plan was devised (consolidation of the various disciplines, expansion of the campus and its sector, modifications to Quebec’s education system), this article will attempt to demonstrate that:
- the open spaces of the campus were part of an emerging American movement of campus planning and of urban planning and landscape architecture in Quebec;
- the open spaces are evidence of an aesthetic of the landscape architecture of open spaces of this period;
- the open spaces and the master plan were a means of inscribing the campus in its territory.
We will equally look at both the flaws and the qualities of the work that was done, most notably the importance accorded to the car and to traffic systems that created contradictions between the vision and the reality.
This article will not paint a complete portrait of this part of the campus history because it is intended to look principally at the master plan and at open spaces and not at the architecture, for example. It contends that, among the characteristic traits of the campus, the open spaces that derive from the master plan of the modern period have both historic and aesthetic value that deserve attention.
### Documentation
For this article, in addition to the publications on the history of the Université de Montréal and other North American campuses, we examined the two reports by Jean-Claude La Haye dating from 1964 and 1968 which together constitute the master plan and the project to extend the campus – principally the parts dealing with open spaces. For a complete understanding of the two reports, we also examined the Jean-Claude La Haye archive at the Service des archives et de gestion des documents de l’UQÀM, more precisely, the part of lot 63P1 that includes the master plans for the Université de Montréal. Those parts of this collection that deal with specific projects were excluded.
---
2 The term “open space” in this article means all exterior spaces of the Université de Montréal campus: squares, parks, wooded areas, paths, pedestrian network, spaces both for rest and for assembly, as well as the roads. This was the term used in both the 1964 and 1968 master plans for the Université de Montréal campus and by the City of Montreal administration from the middle of the 20th century until at least 1992. For more detailed information on this subject, see Landry (1992).
3 The content of this article follows on the work of Cameron, Déom and Valois compiled in two publications on the architectural and landscape values of the main campus. See Cameron et al. (2008 and 2010). It also draws from the author’s presentation as part of the conferences associated with the exhibition Modernisme menacé at the Faculté de l’aménagement in February 2011.
4 In fact, the master plan includes two reports and plans. The reasons for this are discussed later in this article.
Modern campuses and the transformation of education in the 1960s
Throughout America as elsewhere in the western world, the post-war years were marked by major social, economic and cultural transformations that had consequences for teaching and for the planning of universities. Richard Dober, a Harvard graduate, was one of the first to establish planning principles, at exactly the same time as Université de Montréal was planning its expansion. In his book *Campus Planning* (Dober 1963), Dober explains the correlation between increasing population, economic growth, urban expansion and the creation of institutions and infrastructure that are the embodiment of the ideals of liberty, democracy, of better living and better habitation. The wealth of a country, according to Dober, is not measured by the number of its inhabitants, its capital and its wealth but rather by its capacity to produce and to set itself apart by its scientific advancements. As well, the technological advances of other countries pushed western countries to raise the level of learning and to relook at the system of higher education, including its accessibility which had until then been reserved for a certain élite of society.
At the beginning of the 1960s, Canada and the United States found themselves in the same situation. The university and college clientele was growing rapidly, forcing planners and those in charge of educational establishments to rethink both educational programmes and the spaces dedicated to them (Turner 1984). These needs quickly collided with the lack of space on campus, but also made very clear the lack of long term planning tools and techniques. In the United States, for example, one-third of all universities had no long term development planning. And yet, the size of their needs demands planning to ensure long term coherence between a vision, physical attributes and finances. Dober’s work (1963) demonstrates the complex conditions that planning has to work within and suggests assembling functions into modules to allow the university to adapt to changes. The physical aspect of the campus is not the only reality in planning, according to him. Planning draws from aspects as varied as financial management, the choice of vision and the role of the university with respect to society. An inventory of existing spaces and educational programmes and an analysis of both immediate and future needs are essential to proper operation. What seems very evident to us today was, however, very far from evident in this era. Then, drawings prepared for construction aimed at an architectural ideal that responded to the needs of the moment. It meant that from this point on, planning needed to think about structures that were flexible and adaptable to change, a major challenge in terms of design and of management, but feasible because of the new planning tools that were becoming available to planners.
While its demographic and ideological situation was the same as the rest of North America at the beginning of the 1960s, Quebec was living through some very particular social changes which had an impact on the universities. The fields of education, culture and health previously controlled by the Catholic Church, were now firmly in the hands of the State. The complete restructuring by the State, described as state socialism, also led to the creation of many financial institutions and to one of the most ambitious projects in Quebec, the nationalization of electricity. By taking control of one of its greatest resources, Quebec provided itself with the means to undertake the social programs which would modernize society and raise the level of education to that demanded by the scientific and technological revolution that was underway.
At the same time, the government was revising the province’s entire educational system so as to make education accessible to all. To do this - and conscious of the ever-mounting number of
students - the province established the 1963 Royal Commission of Inquiry on Education in the Province of Quebec, which led to the Parent Report (1965-1966). Following a long consultation throughout the province, the government responded to the report’s recommendations and made education accessible to all, created new educational institutions and established the Ministry of Education. At the Université de Montréal, one of the consequences of this movement was the repatriation of programs previously administered by religious communities, most notably the cours classique and specialized schools. This was the case, for example, for the education of pre-school and primary school teachers as well as for nursing. To integrate these new programs, many new buildings were built while others were purchased from the religious communities, particularly the Pavillon Marie-Victorin, the Pavillon Marguerite d’Youville and the buildings of the Faculté de musique and the Faculté de l’aménagement.
The evolution of the use of open spaces on the Université de Montréal campus
Each phase of development of the Université de Montréal campus is the result of much larger socio-economic movements that shaped its physical appearance. While each phase includes landscape, those developed in the 1960s stand out because of the progressive thinking about open spaces as well as the extent of the campus expansion at the time.
The first important landscape plans were part of the first phase of development, as the main building designed by Ernest Cormier was built on the mountain starting in 1923, distancing itself from the turbulence of the city.5
The courtyard of the main building defined by a circle of greenery, the east-west axis of car traffic, the wooden staircase linking what is now boulevard Édouard-Montpetit to the main building as well as the wooded areas were all part of the first open spaces. Aside from the natural areas, these are all spaces designed to “accompany”, either in a utilitarian way or as representation (figure 1)
This aerial view of the main building by Ernest Cormier shows how the symmetrical composition accentuates the main courtyard. Date of photo: July 25, 1948.
*Source: Service de la gestion des documents et des archives, Université de Montréal, Fonds du Service des archives (D0036) 1FP1973. Photograph Surveys Limited.*
The composition changes radically between 1960 and 1968 with the second phase of development when, in an effort to respond to the increase in population and the integration of
5 After an interruption, the construction of the main building was completed in 1943. The École Polytechnique building was built in 1958-1960, the Résidence A Pavilion in 1956 and the J.-A.-DeSève cultural centre in 1956, each accompanied by a landscape plan.
new programs, many new buildings were built. New asphalt roads, the spaces between buildings, the pedestrian network both inside and outside as well as the woods all constitute open spaces. The construction of the chemin de la Rampe as the principal access to the university gives automobile access precedence and changes the image of the campus radically (figure 2). This importance accorded to the car is a reflection both of the increased dependence on the automobile that marked this period throughout North America and of an increased desire to integrate the campus into the city. New roadways and new open spaces are built between buildings to facilitate pedestrian access (figure 3). Among the significant projects built at this time, one finds the Place de la Laurentienne whose geometrical composition and use of hexagonal forms, exposed aggregate pavers, wood timbers and natural stone all illustrate the trends of this era.
The period from 1995 to today, characterised by the addition of many buildings in the field of the sciences, generated new landscapes, reinforcing the links between open spaces and responding to the stylistic trends of the time. A case in point is the terraced space in front of the Marcelle-Coutu and Jean-Coutu pavilions whose form, use of concrete and steel and vegetation are representative of contemporary landscape architecture. The open spaces dating from the previous era conceived by the La Haye firm remain largely untouched during this period.
In this sequence of development, the 1960s and 1970s are particularly important because it is then that today’s physical features first appear and the reflection on open spaces starts. One of
---
6 During this period, the Louis-Colin Garage, the Résidence C, the Samuel-Bronfman and Liliane de Stewart pavilions were all built. Buildings such as those for the Faculté de musique, the Salle Claude-Champagne and the Faculté de l’aménagement were all bought during this time.
7 The master plan by Ouellet, Boisvert et Paré (1995) directed this last phase of campus expansion.
the important actors of this period is Jean-Claude La Haye who, at the head of the firm of Jean-Claude La Haye et associés, accompanied the university in the planning and construction of its campus. His multidisciplinary approach was a boon to planning, at the very time when urban planning and landscape architecture were rapidly on the rise in Quebec.
**Context of the 1960s campus construction**
**The rise of the planning disciplines**
Landscape architecture and urban planning are young professions in Canada; the expansion of the Université de Montréal campus coincides with the period of their growth. Until the middle of the last century, urban design and planning were marginal practices in Quebec (Boisvert 2003). Education programs were non-existent and those who practised these professions were educated either in the United States or Europe. However, as Marsan notes (1974), there had been processes in place since the 19th century that were intended to give the city a certain spatial order. Also, for reasons of hygiene, many projects were undertaken in Montreal to provide the population with potable water, roadway infrastructure and parks. While it is true that in the 20th century specific projects such as the Town of Mount Royal and the Cité tricentenaire were built according to a plan, it was not the large-scale urban design that we know today (Ibid.). It was only in 1944 that the City of Montreal proposed a first urban plan, although it has never been recognized as such. (Ibid.).
Before the middle of the last century, Montreal and other large cities in general had few means at their disposal to direct the development of their territory, and the universities even fewer. Learning how to plan took place at both universities and cities at practically the same time. Also, several key events in urban planning coincide with the accelerated development of the Université de Montréal campus. The Institut d’urbanisme of the Université de Montréal was created in 1961; the Association des urbanistes du Québec was founded in 1963 and the law outlining planning, in whose creation La Haye had participated, in 1968.
Equally, at this time, the practice of landscape architecture took off. Founded in the United States at the end of the 19th century by Frederick law Olmsted, designer of Montreal’s Mount Royal Park, the profession appeared in Canada in the middle of the 19th century when English horticulturalists and gardeners were invited to design cemeteries in Ontario and Quebec. The practice of the profession diversified with the creation of public and institutional gardens, but it was only at the beginning of the 20th century that Frederick Gage Todd, originally from England, and Charles Ernest Woolverton from Ontario use the title of landscape architect for the first time in Canada (Fife et al. 2012). Over time, the profession organized itself across the country: in 1934, the Canadian Society of Landscape Architects and Town Planners was founded and the first landscape architecture program was launched in Guelph in 1964, followed closely by Toronto, Winnipeg, Vancouver and Montreal. The real growth of the profession happened in the mid-20th century with major projects such as Expo 67, the centennial of Confederation and the
---
8 Frederic Law Olmsted was the first American to use the title landscape architect in 1858, on the plans for Central Park. In 1899, the American Society of Landscape Architects was founded and courses in landscape architecture were offered at the Harvard School of Design.
9 Todd was responsible for planning the Town of Mount Royal, Beaver Lake in Mount Royal Park and the Stations of the Cross at St. Joseph’s Oratory.
construction of the St. Lawrence Seaway (Paine 1998). In Montreal, the landscape architecture program created in 1968 became autonomous in 1978 as the École d'architecture de paysage of the Faculté de l’aménagement. The Institut d’urbanisme having been already integrated into the faculty, one could reasonably assume that links were made between the two professions at the time of the campus expansion, a project that called on the expertise of many disciplines.
**Urban planning at the City of Montreal**
The idea of creating a system of open spaces at the Université de Montréal was preceded by a plan conceived some twenty years earlier by the City of Montreal as part of the first master plan for the city. This plan demonstrates that urban planning and landscape architecture – while still both relatively young professions – were interrelated from the end of the Second World War onwards.
Having created the City Planning Department in 1941, the City of Montreal issued its *Plan Directeur de Montréal : urbanisation de Montréal*. The importance accorded in this plan to open spaces as a means of linking significant places and of creating a better environment to live in is one of its most striking features. There is a drawing on the plan that shows a continuous green network linking green spaces, the riverbanks, the Miron quarry, Mount Royal and greenbelts as sites of future housing projects. Rue Rachel is shown as an important green link, uniting Parc Maisonneuve with Mount Royal. This green link is explained as a reflection of social life and the importance of closely linking open spaces, public buildings, parks and schools (City of Montreal 1944).
The importance accorded to green spaces is also evident in the *Plan Directeur de Montréal : espaces libres*, published in 1955 by the City Planning Department of the City of Montreal. This document analysed needs based on both territorial and population growth and recommended an equitable sharing of playgrounds, sports fields and other community spaces. During this period, more precisely in 1953, the City of Montreal hired André Lafontaine, the first landscape architect to work for the City. (Cormier 1990).
Urban planning and landscape architecture in the post-war years were presented by the City of Montreal as being inextricably linked. The 1944 plan advanced the idea later put forward by La Haye et associés to create a system of open spaces linked one to another and endorsed to a certain extent the firm’s approach to planning the campus, aimed at creating both informal meeting places and greenery for the benefit of campus users.
**Jean-Claude La Haye**
Among the very few urban planners active in this period, Jean-Claude La Haye, the head of the firm La Haye et associés and designer of the campus, stands out as a leader. Through his work and his teaching, his practice was based on a vision of the easing of the barriers between urban planning, architecture and landscape architecture. Born in 1923 in Kapuskasing in northern Ontario and educated in City Planning at Harvard University, Jean-Claude La Haye started his career in the Ministère des affaires municipales where his job was to work on the first amendments to the *Lois sur les cités et villes* (Tellier-Cohen 2003). He was among those responsible for the creation of the Institut d’urbanisme de l’Université de Montréal, where he taught for three years, and of the *Corporation professionnelle des urbanistes du Québec*, where he was founding president and held office until 1968 (Tellier-Cohen 2003). Author of many master plans, he had a long career punctuated by numerous contributions to the government as
a consultant. He was head of the planning committee charged with commenting on the plan for Quebec City’s Parliament Hill, vice-president and president par interim of the Commission de la capitale nationale and president of the Commission des biens culturels from 1978 to 1980. One of his most important contributions was his involvement in the Commission provincial d’urbanisme, better known as the Commission La Haye, of which he was president in 1963 (La Haye1968b). The proposal to provide the government with a policy on urban development that would allow it to legislate on this development generated a series of laws, until the creation of the Loi sur l’aménagement et l’urbanisme in 1979.
The professional achievements of the firms he created were many. In addition to the campus of the Université de Montréal, these firms were responsible for the plan for the enhancement of the Mirabel region, as well as the master plan for Saint-Foy and its downtown. Jean-Claude La Haye’s perspective on urban design can be summed up by the following quote from an interview: “I think that we have to succeed in satisfying all of a man’s needs in life inside a neighbourhood, that microcosm of society at large” (Tellier-Cohen 2003, 10). He founded the first multidisciplinary office about 1965 just as the first report and plans for the Université de Montréal had been submitted.
The 1960s expansion of the campus and the master plan
The transformation of the education system, the rise of the planning disciplines including urban design as a means of controlling development in Quebec, both coincided with the major period of growth of Université de Montréal at the beginning of the 1960s. A favourable economy and unprecedented demographic growth fostered the spatial expansion necessary to welcome new programs and students. Between 1955 and 1965, the workforce tripled, operating budgets increased by a factor of six and research budgets by a factor of ten (Archives UQAM-1). Faculties were created and departments multiplied. To respond to the demand for higher education, those in charge felt the need for guidance in spatial development and looked for a plan that would be flexible and that would adapt to future needs. The Université de Montréal, in line with other major American and Canadian universities affected by the same phenomena, called for a master plan.
Jean-Claude La Haye, having learned of the project, offered his services to the university in a letter addressed to the rector, Mgr. Irené Lussier. He asserted his experience and his multidisciplinary approach, citing the members of his team composed of the architects Jean Ouellet and Victor Lambert, the landscape architect Douglas Harper and the surveyor Raymond Archambault (Archives UQAM-2). An expansion project, he wrote, presupposed the establishment of a plan d’ensemble. He pointed out his experience, referring to the project for the Université de Sherbrooke campus that he was then working on. Several months later, he was awarded the contract and at the beginning of 1961, the program of work was sketched out. The plans were deposited at the Université de Montréal at the end of 1963, followed in March 1964 by the Rapport d’accompagnement du plan général d’aménagement de l’Université de Montréal (La Haye 1964). Several months later, Gilles Gratton, engineer and director of the buildings and grounds service for Université de Montréal, announced the work to be carried out. Amongst the projects were the construction of a building for the maintenance service, a building for classrooms, student residences, the Winter Stadium, access roads, the access ramp as well as connections to public utilities. Effectively, it had taken less than four years to plan the
development of the campus of the modern era, one of the most significant in the university’s history.
Following the deposit of these plans and of the report, and after a first phase of construction, a second plan was drawn up in 1968. The existence of this second plan, presented in a report entitled *Université de Montréal : le deuxième plan directeur*, may seem strange as the plan actually re-presents some part of the content of the first and construction of much of it was well advanced in 1968. In fact, it is the result of criticism by the City of certain imprecisions in the first plan.\(^\text{10}\) The university, it said, “would commit formally to respecting it” and, moreover, it would have “the force of regulation, conforming to the new clauses of the Charter of Montreal” (Archives UQAM-3).\(^\text{11}\) In response to these comments, the second master plan was drawn up, both more extensive and more detailed. The number of drawings tripled and the analysis was more developed, particularly with respect to the availability of land and its capacity to absorb. The awareness of the urban context was strongly expressed by the intention to have a campus at an “urban scale” with an “aesthetic unity”, and to conserve the qualities of the mountain.
More specifically, the report went deeper into the principles concerning open spaces, circulation, parking and a unified architectural aesthetic by re-evaluating needs and by drawing more precise plans of the land available. As well, the idea of a “spine” along which all the functions are connected became a vision of development that could adjust according to need. The open spaces would play an important role and the pedestrian network would become in this way a major component, similar to circulation and the underground network for which the *Comité consultative d’architecture* for the university had formally requested a study.\(^\text{12}\)
The master plan’s vision of open spaces
The specific vision of open spaces was very explicit in the 1964 report – an entire chapter was devoted to it – but the same content appears again in the 1968 report.\(^\text{13}\) Entitled *Organisation des espaces libres*, the chapter defined the basic concepts and showed how the open spaces would provide the means to unify the campus and integrate it to the city.
\(^{10}\) In fact, the Service d’urbanisme’s report dated February 1967 describes the plan as imprecise - “without a programme” - and that it is difficult to form an opinion on it. (Archives UQAM-3). It focuses on the initial proposals made by the City and certain flaws in the La Haye plan, most notably the lack of links between the campus and the neighbourhood. Indeed, this last aspect constitutes “a new conclusion” in the 1964 report whereas the 1968 report proposes that the “campus expansion” be integrated into the city.
\(^{11}\) The modification to article 612 of the Charter of the City of Montreal in 1965 stipulated that, to obtain a permit to construct a major project, the owner had to submit a *plan d’ensemble* to the Service d’urbanisme. This, according to many sources, is the foreunner of the *Programme particulier d’urbanisme* that we know today.
\(^{12}\) In effect, it asked that “the possibility of a covered or interior circulation network between buildings or groups of buildings” be studied.
\(^{13}\) The content of the chapter on open spaces in the 1964 report is spread over different chapters in the 1968 report. Note that the expression “open spaces” refers to the “student space and pedestrian network” on the drawing.
The intent was that the new campus distinguish itself from the original one by Cormier; the extent of the need for space and for infrastructure would make this possible. The general vision expressed is best summed up as a desire to create a more urban campus which would enhance the natural features of the site using an internal system that would include open spaces. This system would allow for distribution of programs and equipment along a pedestrian and automobile network fitted out with open spaces and linked to the city. The connection to the city would appear both literally and figuratively, linking the chemin de la Rampe and the chemin de la Polytechnique to city streets and opening access to the campus to neighbouring communities.
A unified system of spaces
La Haye and his team believed in the social and functional virtues of open spaces. Great importance was attached to the network made up of these and to their integration into the internal pedestrian and automobile network, in one unified system. On the other hand, these open spaces were presented as punctuation in the system, stops and transitions between buildings and meeting places that distribute and link the different functions.
Open spaces are not the residual elements from development; they have a positive value and functions to fulfill: extending the natural character of the mountain, transition with the urban surroundings, places to walk and to relax, sports grounds, meeting places. (La Haye 1968a, 17)
To create a network at the heart of the campus that would facilitate meetings and exchanges, “(…) distribute functions around a hub of activity which would force encounters and exchanges of ideas”, that is the aspiration (Ibid., 5).
The functions of open spaces
In the report, the importance accorded to the idea of function is notable for the vocabulary used to describe open spaces. The terms “transition”, “meeting place”, “gathering places” designate spaces very precisely. As well, transition areas include the park space around the actual metro entry; meeting and resting places are on the periphery of streets while gathering places include spaces around buildings and traffic lanes. Some spaces serve several functions:
The exterior space of a building has a function that is complementary to that of the interior space. It adds a positive value by providing circulation, welcome, meeting and waiting spaces or for integration of nature. (La Haye 1968a, 42)
Place de la Laurentienne, the roof of the Louis-Colin garage, the courtyard of the main building by Cormier as well as the areas enclosed by the wings of the building all embody this principle of multi-functionalism. These are spaces for meeting, circulation and encounter, clearly identified as such from the beginning and continuing to fill that role today (figure 4). Varying the positions of the benches in front of the Roger-Gaudry pavilion wings, for example, encourages meetings of small groups of people in an area heavily used by those making use of the nearby moving ramp (figures 5 and 6).
Natural features
The campus is rich in natural features and their integration into the design of open spaces would have allowed them to be enhanced. The “profile” created by the new buildings had to adapt to the mountain, in conformance with the City’s bylaw. As well, the report studied the height of buildings very carefully and the interest of “the natural elements of the campus” is highlighted as well as the necessity to preserve the wooded areas.
The objective [...] would be the construction of a general profile comprised of a harmonious integration of buildings and green spaces or woods that does not disfigure the mountain. (La Haye 1968a, 28)
[...] the principal objectives of the control of development [...] are principally the preservation of the profile and of the natural character of the mountain, the principal picturesque element of the metropolis. (Ibid.)
The preservation of the undergrowth by the planning of paths was part of the plan in the sense that “its enhancement and its regeneration are considerations which demand particular attention in the creation of the campus.” (La Haye 1964, 30). We will see elsewhere in this article that many of the paths through the wooded areas are still functioning, notably those that are below the main pavilion. The inventory of wooded areas on the illustration entitled Les espaces verts naturels et aménagés showing the dominant species (oak, maple, ash and locust), their general state and size attests to the interest in natural elements.
The role of vegetation in planning
Vegetation plays the role of accenting the natural character of the mountain, of assuring harmonious transitions and of softening the banks of the roadways after construction. Thus the chemin de la Rampe follows the topography of the mountain and on the edges of the roads, shrubs are arrayed along the embankment. The retaining walls along this road and behind the main pavilion, designed by the artist Jean-Noël Poliquin, include caissons in prefabricated concrete that act as planters: while meeting structural needs, the modular assembly provides a play of light and shadow which softens the effect of the significant change of level in front of the main pavilion (figures 7 and 8). The impact of the walls erected for the needs of construction was reduced by planting. Today, these walls are still very present but the plants are no longer there and the stairway has been condemned, whereas elsewhere much of the vegetation is still present.
Figure 7
Detail of section of retaining wall showing its inventiveness, both structurally and architecturally.
Source: Université de Montréal – Plan d’ensemble [entre 1960 et 1980]. Université du Québec à Montréal. Service des archives et de gestion des documents. Fonds d’archives Jean-Claude-La-Haye, 63P1/734 (27.00)
Figure 8
The photo shows the original retaining wall designed by the artist Jean-Noël Poliquin and its relationship to the slope of the mountain and to the roadways. Part of it still exists today.
Source: Université de Montréal – Plan d’ensemble [entre 1960 et 1980]. Université du Québec à Montréal. Service des archives et de gestion des documents. Fonds d’archives Jean-Claude-La-Haye, 63P1/734 (27.00)
The integration of the campus into the city
Throughout its history, the relationship between the campus and the city around it is tied to the development of the sector, but it is difficult at this stage of our research to determine which drove which. However, it is clear that at the beginning the university wanted a campus that was calm, far from the hustle and bustle of the city, and that the 1960s plans were intended to respond to the City’s desire to have a campus that was more integrated into the city. The choice of site, as we have seen, was a direct consequence of the administration’s desire to remove the campus from the city. The north flank of the mountain not having been much developed, and Côte-des-Neiges not having been much touched by Montreal’s development were therefore factors in choosing a site that would give the campus a rural character. Following the first stage of development, in the mid-1950s, the sector started to transform. The campus participated in this change with its expansion project and became an urban campus regardless of the fact that access and roadways were on the university’s property. Construction of residential towers and reconfiguration of the intersection of chemin Côte-des-Neiges and rue Queen Mary at the beginning of the 1960s, as well as the purchase of the adjoining streets by the university to build the social sciences pavilions meant the complete disappearance of the former village core and a major modification to the city’s fabric at the university’s perimeter (Garcia and Garcia 2006). La Haye recognized that, by building what he intended, the Cormier campus would start to transform at the same rate as the densification of the adjoining neighbourhood: “[it is] today at the geographic centre of metropolitan development” (La Haye 1968a, 24). The urban planner went so far as to suggest zoning changes for boulevard Édouard-Montpetit that would permit the operation of stores to serve the university community, a suggestion that was never carried out.14 The centrality of the campus, one can then reasonably deduce, is certainly because of its geographic position within the city. However, it also makes sense when looking at the development all around as well as the university’s own expansion. In a certain way, this quote on the centrality of the university presumes that the campus already was part of a spatial and social urban dynamic. The variety and accessibility of the spaces bordering boulevard Édouard-Montpetit, the access roads connected to the city’s network and the enhancement of the natural character of the mountain all make the argument that the integration of the campus into the city is, in fact, a reality. A very particular attention has been paid to the siting of buildings and green spaces so that they contribute to the ambience of the neighbourhood and align with the profile of the mountain. The siting of cultural and sports functions along boulevard Édouard-Montpetit is part of this intention as they attract the people who live close by. However, this integration has not, according to some, been a complete success in the sense that the university has not seized the opportunities that have presented themselves since its expansion. For these people, the campus remains closed on itself.15
While, for some, the campus is not completely integrated into the city, its modern urban character is very present in the design of its open spaces, including its internal road network.
14 Jean-Claude Marsan reiterates this in his proposal to densify the campus in many articles, notably the one published in Forum (Marsan 2009).
15 On this subject see the article by Jacques Trudel (2011) in which he points out the autonomy of the university in terms of development, a fact which has prevented true integration of the campus into the city. It should be noted that the author participated in discussions between the City and the university in the 1960s, when he was an urban planner working in the Service d’urbanisme of the City of Montreal.
The chemin de la Rampe, built in 1965, evokes this image and is a key element of the design of this period. It winds its way upward from boulevard Édouard-Montpetit to the main building, opening views towards the city, recalling American parkways whose routes were drawn according to rules about views of the landscape (figure 9). This system, while connected to the city network, was however accessible only to users on campus until gatehouses were abandoned in favour of automatic barriers. This gesture restored at least the part of the east-west road from rue Decelles and boulevard Édouard-Montpetit to public use.
Figure 9
The access ramp leading to the main building was one of the first projects carried out in the second phase of development of the campus. Conceived as a parkway, it received the Highway Beautiful Award from the Canadian Good Roads Association in 1970. It still exists today.
*Source: Université de Montréal – Plan d’ensemble [entre 1960 et 1980]. Université du Québec à Montréal. Service des archives et de gestion des documents. Fonds d’archives Jean-Claude-La-Haye, 63P1/734 (27.00)*
An ideal vision and the use of open spaces
The master plan reports for the campus outline a vision of open spaces by putting forward the idea of a convivial campus that benefits from its natural features as well as an urban campus that functions as a system. The plans which accompany the master plan make this vision concrete in a drawing that shows a system of internal pedestrian network, roadway and meeting spaces that became the basis of what was actually built. However, if one looks at how open spaces are presented on the drawings, one notices some disparities between the vision as it was written and the transposition of those spaces both as drawn and as built (figures 10,11,12).
Figure 10
The 1968 plan by La Haye et associés of pedestrian circulation shows the superimposition of autonomous network systems. The legend also shows that the places for students and the exterior pedestrian network form part of the same system.
*Source: Université de Montréal – Plan d’ensemble [entre 1960 et 1980]. Université du Québec à Montréal. Service des archives et de gestion des documents. Fonds d’archives Jean-Claude-La-Haye, Scan 6 (27.00)*
The 1968 plan by La Haye et associés of vehicular circulation shows a very studied organization of roadways for vehicle traffic.
Source: Université de Montréal – Plan d’ensemble [entre 1960 et 1980]. Université du Québec à Montréal. Service des archives et de gestion des documents. Fonds d’archives Jean-Claude-La-Haye, Scan 3 (27.00)
The 1968 plan by La Haye et associés of green spaces shows that a large area was to be landscaped. The furniture proposed is shown here in the strip underneath the plan, allowing us to date its design. There are still many examples of this furniture to be found on the campus.
The plan titled Le projet – les circulations de piétons illustrates very well the concept of open spaces, however the accent is on a system. The campus access as shown is without any hierarchy via the underground network rather than from the street. In effect, according to the arrows on the plan, access to the campus is from three pavilions (HEC, Jean-Brillant and J.-A. De Sève), two garages (Louis-Colin and the Stade d’hiver) and via the moving ramp. Moreover, the system of “students’ square and exterior pedestrian network”, represented in pale grey on
16 The drawing referred to is sheet 20A/32. An earlier drawing, 20/32 was produced but on this one, access, the moving ramp, and the topography do not appear.
the plan, includes as many residual spaces as true open spaces. The plan includes very few indications as to how street crossings are treated while certain paths and places extend to the sidewalks and pedestrian access from the street are not recognized as entries to the campus.
Moreover, the sheet bearing the title *Le projet – les circulations de véhicules* shows an east-west road situated at the southern limit of the campus extending into the Saint-Jean-Baptiste woods (figure 11). This road proved to be an important solution to the problem of better integrating the campus to the city by replacing the road which crossed the campus, passing in front of the main building to connect to boulevard Mont-Royal. Because this was not feasible and with the agreement of the City, only the western part was realized (the chemin de Polytechnique) putting an end to a larger vision of integration of campus to city.
It is notable that the stone signage posts mark principally the automobile entries to campus, while the one which indicates the pedestrian entry from avenue Jean-Brillant is far from the centre of the normal traffic flow (figures 13 and 14). However, the signage pillars and the gatehouses of the “standard equipment” on the drawing titled *Le projet – les espaces verts* (figure 12) seem destined to play an important role in marking the entries.
*Figure 13*
The signage posts along avenue Louis-Colin indicate pedestrian access towards the upper campus.
*Source: Université de Montréal – Plan d’ensemble [entre 1960 et 1980]. Université du Québec à Montréal. Service des archives et de gestion des documents. Fonds d’archives Jean-Claude-La-Haye, 63P1/734 (27.00)*
*Figure 14*
The signage posts situated at the entrance to the Louis-Colin garage - rather than at the entry to Place de la Laurentienne to the right – show the importance accorded to indirect access to the campus.
The intention to separate the pedestrian and vehicular functions, both inside and outside, to create a unified system, may have made the task more difficult. The plans which we mentioned speak to the desire to modernize the campus in the image of the major cities and to respond to the objectives of the *Comité consultative de l’Université* to “establish a spine […] that all the different components of the campus can hook onto […]” (Archives UQAM-4).
[…] like those ancient cities in which the squares and the streets belong to the crowds and to the pedestrians, we see appearing […] distinct networks
making the different urban functions easily accessible to pedestrians, their true users. (La Haye 1968a, 44)
Each of the networks responds to the objectives according to its own logic with its strengths and its weaknesses. The underground network, for example, was presented as a “major component” which would “allow the realization of the principal objectives of the planning study” (Archives UQAM-5). Despite the absence of clear links with the exterior network, some of the underground network’s qualities merit examination. The aesthetic harmonization with the architecture, the lighting which “humanized” it as well as the design of the visual piercings and the presence of the rock do give it an experiential quality. The climactic conditions and the difficult topography justified the construction of the underground network, as did the 1960s trend of “inhabiting” the underground. In effect, Place Ville Marie’s construction – completed only a short time before – launched the underground network that now characterizes Montreal.
Today’s campus underground network, like the other components we will discuss later, displays interesting details such as the works of art, carefully constructed wood lath ceilings and rock walls reflecting the geomorphology of the mountain.
Reading the master plan reports, one observes a wealth of ideas on open spaces but the plans themselves show a disparity between the intentions and the space planning. One has to ask whether the number of plans required to express the vision of “a network that would link the functions and integrate into the city” goes against the idea of “creating organic links between the diverse functions of the campus and to make the whole of the campus lively and integrated to the city” (La Haye 1964, 17). The idea of “the whole” is difficult to discern by looking at the plans, as much of the pedestrian and vehicular circulation systems is dispersed over many drawings. The pedestrian network appears on one plan, while the green spaces and vehicles are on another. Moreover, the open spaces in question shown on the plan entitled Le projet – les circulations piétonnes are simply filled-in spaces between buildings with no nuances shown. In terms of representation, this is far from being a coherent route of places linked one to another. Despite a very clear text, one senses a paradox: the separation of functions (separating pedestrians from automobiles, the interior circuit from the exterior circuit) versus the creation of an “organic whole”.
**The Vincent Massey competition: an illustration of a convivial campus**
The master plan for the campus submitted to the Vincent Massey Award competition for urban planning is without doubt the best illustration of the idealism of La Haye and his team (figure 15). Dominated by a playful vision of open spaces, the competition documents stand apart from all the others which we have discussed – starting with the graphic design, full of people and greenery. While the 1968 plans give the appearance of being technical drawings, the graphics of the competition drawings are jarringly different with their exuberance and their playfulness. Part of a larger green ensemble, each exterior space is illustrated and named: Place des HEC, Place du Droit, Place des Sciences Sociales, Terrasse des Résidences, Belvédère etc. Whether deliberate or not, the emphasis on open spaces and on users coincides with the original intentions as well as with the competition objectives. The Vincent Massey Award for urban planning aimed at honouring projects which demonstrated “excellence at the level of the urban environment” to the benefit of citizens (Gosselin-Geoffrion 1975). The awards stressed projects which had an impact on citizens. The graphic design also responded to these objectives, reflecting the era’s graphic trends in planning, with people and lines on the drawings superimposed on handwriting - all enriching the representation. It is to be noted that, to all
appearances, the Vincent Massey Award for urban design was only awarded twice, once in 1971 and again in 1975.\(^\text{17}\) The master plan for the campus did not win the award but the competition submission is significant because it demonstrates a form of idealisation of the campus that was perhaps retained by the designers. One could speculate that this competition, set outside of contractual constraints, allowed the designers to put forward an ideal of the Université de Montréal campus in a period when great social importance was attached to the user in public space.
**Figure 15**
On this site plan, one can see the names given to public spaces.
**The current state of the spaces**
The implication of La Haye et associés in the expansion of the campus went beyond planning as the firm would go on to design a number of the open spaces – many still in use today – and was involved in the work as a whole. The result is an aesthetic and urban unity, certain characteristics of which (textured concrete, for example) appear elsewhere in the city. La Haye wanted to control many aspects of the work: “the [proposed] site plans would not create insoluble problems for the architects who would eventually be given the task of drawing up the architectural plans” (Archives UQAM-6). The acceptance of recommendations for construction was assured by a committee, the Comité consultative d’architecture de l’Université de Montréal, of which Jean-Claude La Haye was a member. The exterior work was overseen by his firm as a series of independent mandates which allowed him to carry out his vision.\(^\text{18}\)
\(^{17}\) Amongst the projects recognized in 1975 were the Jardins Prince-Arthur in Montreal, the Promenade des Gouverneurs in Quebec and Campbell Square in Scarborough.
\(^{18}\) The firm was effectively responsible for most of the work carried out at this period. The site plans for open spaces which were consulted for this article are in the archives of the Direction des immeubles de l’Université de Montréal.
Amongst many different projects, it is worth emphasizing the roof and areas surrounding the Louis-Colin garage, the social sciences buildings, the sports pavilion, the residences and Place de la Laurentienne. He collaborated with the engineering firms responsible for the roadways, the lighting and other aspects as well as participating in the design of the urban furniture, lighting and signage. This significant implication in every stage of the project was possible due to professional collaborations such as those with the architect Jean Ouellet, landscape architects Douglas Harper and Serge Coitoux, engineers Lorrain, Tourigny, Dubuc and Gérin-Lajoie and the firm E.R. Chagnon Ltée. It is a direct consequence of the convictions of Jean-Claude La Haye, for whom the planning of the ensemble of the campus preceded and accompanied architectural and landscape architecture projects on the campus.
The contributions of professionals from different disciplines, however, produced a largely homogeneous aesthetic. The built forms in landscape architecture (the low walls, the concrete surfaces and the retaining walls) are all similarly assembled and textured: textured concrete, exposed aggregate concrete, raw concrete etc. As in other Montreal projects of the era, the aesthetic properties of concrete in architecture were enhanced and experimentation was very evident in exterior spaces. A list of the more remarkable uses includes the areas around the Maximilien-Caron pavilion and the space between the stadium and the Centre d'éducation physique et des sports de l'Université de Montréal (Cepsum), well conserved and recently renovated in the spirit of the original (figures 16 and 17). The use of wood and textured concrete, the use of angular forms and the articulation of the stairway on the slope – all are typical of the period. One could say the same of the low walls made up of timbers, identical to those found around the Jean-Brillant and Lionel-Groulx pavilions. In addition, the repeating motif of the hexagon appears at times in tree wells, at times in pavers in many different places such as the space in front of the Thérèse-Casgrain pavilion and Place de la Laurentienne, just as it does elsewhere in Montreal. These examples of the use of materials and forms are representative of the practice of landscape architecture of this period (figures 18 and 19).
Figure 16
The areas to the south of the Maximilien-Caron pavilion have conserved their authenticity, evident here in the concrete benches, the low walls, and the slabs of exposed aggregate concrete.
Photo: Denis Farley, 2010.
Figure 17
The passage between the Cepsum and the Stade d’hiver has retained the initial spirit of La Haye et associé’s work.
Photo: Denis Farley 2010.
Douglas Harper was one of the founders of the École d’architecture de paysage at Université de Montréal.
The use of textured concrete is very evident in the work of La Haye et associés in the 1960s. This passageway alongside the Samuel-Bronfman pavilion is an example.
Source: Université de Montréal – Plan d’ensemble [entre 1960 et 1980]. Université du Québec à Montréal. Service des archives et de gestion des documents. Fonds d’archives Jean-Claude-La-Haye, 63P1/734 (27.00)
This present-day view of the passage alongside the Samuel-Bronfman pavilion shows how this authenticity has been conserved.
Photo: Nicole Valois, 2011
Some work has not been properly conserved and some was not well executed, but there is much that merits attention. Place de la Laurentienne is probably the most worthy, if one judges it by its architectural and historic value (Cameron et al. 2008). The buildings and the square form a homogeneous ensemble and are a testament to the aesthetics of public spaces of the 1960s with their angular forms and their use of exposed aggregates and textures (figures 20 and 21). The square’s deteriorated state and the disappearance of part of it with the construction of the Lettres et sciences humaines library will pose important challenges, however, when the time comes to renovate this ensemble.
Figure 20
Place de la Laurentienne is one of the most significant works from this period. It represents well the principle of a gathering place for the university community, strongly tied to the architectural composition of the buildings around it.
Figure 21
Present-day Place de la Laurentienne whose appearance remains unchanged.
Photo Nicole Valois, 2011
Among the other interesting details, it is worth considering the “standard equipment”, part of which is shown in detail on the drawing entitled Le projet - les espaces verts. The gatehouses, the lighting, the flower beds, the benches, the garbage cans, the signage posts are all part of the aesthetics of this period and part of a vision of the ensemble of the La Haye team. The attention paid to the furniture and furnishings, combined with the indications as to which spaces to develop, reflect once more the multidisciplinary approach so dear to Jean-Claude La Haye.
Unfortunately, some of the other landscaped areas of this period are in very poor condition. Problems generated by subsequent construction and material deterioration due to neglect – because much of this work is built into steeply-sloped areas subject to erosion – mean that some areas are in a critical state and for some, demolition seems inevitable. The time has come to evaluate what merits being conserved versus what merits being restored, replaced or corrected by looking at the state of the places while considering their significance as testament of a savoir-faire in planning and landscape design which was born in Quebec in the 1960s.
Conclusion
This period of time when the campus moved towards modernity and the first landscape architecture projects truly took form was an important one in the history of the campus and its neighbourhood and for the planning professions. It must be remembered that the Université de Montréal was one of the first institutions to establish itself on the north flanks of the mountain in such a definitive fashion. The tower of the main building, a reference point in the city, marked its territory. The presence of the campus affected the development of the city just as the impetus to modernize was affecting Montreal. Projects in the 1960s included roadways, paths and squares whose aesthetic features expressed this move to modernism as did the spirit of the network of open spaces, seen as a way of unifying both the physical spaces and the people who use them.
The long term planning of the campus by the La Haye firm was part of an emerging practice in planning techniques that helped create many campuses in North America. The intensity of this movement had the effect of positioning the campus as a typology in landscape architecture, part of the corpus of the history of modern architecture in North America (Treib 2003). The Université de Montréal certainly belongs to this typology as do other Canadian campuses such as Université Laval, University of Waterloo and University of Guelph.
The first landscape projects on the campus of Université de Montréal appeared at exactly the moment when landscape architecture and urban planning were establishing themselves in Quebec and when the practice of both began to be taught at the Faculté de l’aménagement. The contribution of many disciplines, requiring a planning process that pulls them all together as the case of the campus shows, is entirely within the collaborative spirit of the Faculté de l’aménagement. As an individual, La Haye was a founding member of this movement, both in teaching and in practice. The master plan for the campus which he oversaw was a planning tool which forged links between the physical components of a place so as to create a great, singular and functional space – right down to the slightest detail. That this important part of the campus was developed during this highly prolific period by a designer who was a pioneer in urban design, who was engaged in the recognition of the profession and the development of Quebec, should be emphasised.
The other side of the coin is the legacy of a campus strongly shaped by the importance of the car, typical for the period. Some of the work contradicts the vision of great ease of movement advocated by the master plans, so much so that it is difficult to walk everywhere safely. Continuous transformation and the lack of maintenance are also very real problems which the University must address in the spirit of enhancing the campus’ built heritage and maintaining the principles that define the character of the site.
A campus is often compared to a microcosm of the city, evolving at the whim of changes in society and in which the passage of time refers to stylistic and functional trends, as well as to maintenance priorities and financial means. Despite the very evident aging of the exterior work of this prosperous period of the campus (without discussing the buildings) the idea of revamping them in a context of under-funding might seem to be a low priority, particularly when a new campus will soon provide an expansion to the existing one. Nevertheless, the university will undertake major redevelopment of the area around the main building in the years to come.20
---
20 It would appear that this project is, as of now, at the preliminary stage, the University having launched a call for proposals to professionals for feasibility studies in spring 2012.
The conservation of the significant elements from this period whose planned and systemic vision is a first in the University’s history, could be part of the renewal process – all the more important considering how few examples of this period exist in Montreal and how poorly documented they are. The projects that the City of Montreal is collaborating in, such as the Parc du Troisième sommet and the Chemin de ceinture, do not seem to include this consideration for the moment. However, there is room to hope that the increased public access will allow the campus to be more closely tied to the city. In summary, the projects both current and planned offer the possibility to create a true campus and to bring its image up to date, an image created at the impetus of La Haye et associés and based on a network of open spaces in the extraordinary natural context that is the mountain.
Bibliography
Archives UQAM - 1. Service des archives et de gestion des documents, fonds d'archives Jean-Claude-La-Haye, 63P1/728. "L'Université aujourd'hui et demain". Brochure produced by the Université de Montréal as part of the fiftieth anniversary campaign. Montreal, April 1967.
Cameron, Christina, Claudine Déom, and Nicole Valois 2008. L'étude des valeurs patrimoniales du campus principal de l'Université de Montréal. Montreal: Canada Research Chair on Built Heritage.
Cameron, Christina, Claudine Déom, and Nicole Valois. 2010. *Le patrimoine architectural et paysager de l'Université de Montréal.* Montreal: Presses de l'Université de Montréal.
|
Many villagers pursue a better life in cities nowadays due to urbanism in China, leaving their village home with farmland and seniors. Tourism is a double-edged sword. It salvages these villages economically but ignores the value of tradition and crafts. To protect and promote village traditions and financially benefit local people, architecture can establish a theme where people learn about craft-making and celebrate craft-related tradition. A craft-focused cultural center can be a first step towards rejuvenating the villages. It can also elevate the significance of crafts as intellectual property. This thesis will focus on how architecture treated as a craft can interpret the spirit of craftsmanship, encourage learning through hands and practice and eventually celebrate authentic Yellow River basin village life and northern Chinese traditional architecture.
HANDMADE | CHINESE VILLAGE CULTURE AND CRAFTS IN DAKOU, CHINA
by
Boyu Li
Thesis submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of the University of Maryland, College Park, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Architecture 2017
Advisory Committee:
Professor, Steven Hurtt, Chair
Professor, Brian P. Kelly
Assistant Professor, Ming Hu
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this to my mom. She has been the lighthouse of my career and life ever since childhood. Without your help, none of this could have happened.
In addition, I would like to thank my husband for being a strong backbone and help polishing my language all three years of graduate school.
Finally, I would like to thank all my colleagues and classmates for our comradery that support me throughout the thesis process.
Acknowledgement
For their mentorship, motivation and critics:
Steven Hurtt
Brian Kelly
Ming Hu
For their patience, conversation and help:
Chris Reyes
Karen Kim
Greg Goldstein
Maryssa Timberlake
Marcus James
Michael Sisson
# Table of Contents
Dedication ........................................................................................................................................ ii
Acknowledgement .............................................................................................................................. iii
Table of Contents ................................................................................................................................ iv
List of Figures ...................................................................................................................................... vi
Chapter 1. Social and culture crisis in China ................................................................................... 1
Vanishing of the traditional village ......................................................................................... 1
The loss of traditional craftsmanship and architecture form ............................................... 2
An authentic experience of village life ..................................................................................... 3
Design Thesis: redesign, reclaim and rejuvenate ................................................................. 4
Chapter 2. Hequ-Dakou Region ....................................................................................................... 7
History ......................................................................................................................................... 7
River fronts ................................................................................................................................ 11
Floodplain, mountains and climates ....................................................................................... 13
A juxtaposition of settlements, Pastoral V.S. Urban ............................................................... 15
Varieties of landscape and their tourism value ........................................................................ 16
Summary and site design strategies ......................................................................................... 18
Chinese village layout ............................................................................................................... 27
Chapter 3. Program Analysis ......................................................................................................... 29
Collections of crafts and their studio requirements ............................................................... 29
Program Components ............................................................................................................... 37
Chapter 4. Case study .................................................................................................................... 42
Vernacular Architecture: Courtyard ...................................................................................... 42
Program precedents: .................................................................................................................. 45
Chapter 5. Schematic Design ......................................................................................................... 53
Design strategies ......................................................................................................................... 53
SWOT Analysis ........................................................................................................................... 55
Building mass .............................................................................................................................. 58
Construction and tectonic .......................................................................................................... 59
Design options ............................................................................................................................ 63
Chapter 6. Proposed Design ............................................................................................................ 69
List of Figures
Figure 1. Map of northern China indicating as the white on the map (Source: China’s old Dwelling by Ronald G Knapp) ................................................................. 6
Figure 2. Hequ and other villages across the Yellow River in historical record ........... 7
Figure 3. Dakou-Hequ site context comparison ......................................................... 9
Figure 4. Map of the site at the border among Shaanxi, Inner Mongolia and Shanxi and the zoom in view below ................................................................. 11
Figure 5. Ferry port outside of Dakou village............................................................ 11
Figure 6. Villagers traveling from utilitarian ferry ports ......................................... 12
Figure 7. Xikou port, Dragon temple ...................................................................... 12
Figure 8. Xikou port urban plaza .......................................................................... 13
Figure 9. Local climate date, diagrams from top to bottom are: average temperature (Celsius), average max and min temperature (Celsius), and average precipitation (millimeter) ......................................................... 14
Figure 10. Site analysis – the relationship between built environment and natural landscape .................................................................................................. 15
Figure 11. Attractions and destinations around the site ............................................. 17
Figure 12. Site Choice ............................................................................................. 20
Figure 13. Site Plan of Dakou Village ...................................................................... 21
Figure 14. Approaches to the sites and potential gateway to the facility site .......... 23
Figure 15. Gateway in Hequ and Dakou ................................................................. 25
Figure 16. Site options for facility design. The two choices are both facing the river, with similar topography ................................................................. 26
Figure 17. Diagram series showing the hypothetical village form reason and determinant .................................................................................................... 28
Figure 18. a throw wheel pottery-making scene (source: http://m.91ddcc.com/t/66405) 29
Figure 19. Pottery Making process in Torpedo Factory Art Center, and required spaces 31
Figure 20. Paper making process and require spaces and proposed studio size ... 33
Figure 21. Heasoon’s studio showing process of textile design and proposed space... 35
Figure 22. Culinary Studio, kitchen and food process room size proposal ............. 37
Figure 23. Program diagram of the proposed facility .............................................. 38
Figure 24. Program space flow chart, showing independent and overlapping spaces (source: author) .................................................................................. 39
Figure 25. Program proposal based on seasons ....................................................... 40
Figure 26. Proposed program floor area .................................................................. 41
Figure 27. a Dakou village courtyard house showing the function and the overall layout of the court ................................................................. 42
Figure 28. Basic courtyard form in northern China .................................................. 43
Figure 29. Cuan di xia village in Men Tou Gou, Beijing ......................................... 44
Figure 30. Terrace courtyard layout and hierarchy based on topography ............ 44
Figure 31. Sub terrain houses in Shanxi and Inner Mongolia on Losses Plateau .... 45
Figure 32. Torpedo Factory Art Center (source: author) .................................................. 46
Figure 33. Haystack Mountain School of Crafts analysis (source: diagram a. is an original copy from Progressive Architecture, Jan 1994, 19. Other diagrams above come from the author) ................................................................................................................. 48
Figure 34. Haystack's entrance analysis ........................................................................... 49
Figure 35. Glen Echo Pottery Studio in yurt and comparison to Inner Mongolian vernacular yurts ................................................................. 50
Figure 36. MacDowell Colony Studio building texture collage ....................................... 52
Figure 37. "Acropolis" scheme .......................................................................................... 54
Figure 38. Public Private two building scheme ................................................................. 54
Figure 39. Sparse scheme ................................................................................................. 55
Figure 40. SWOT analysis of three schemes .................................................................... 56
Figure 41. Proposed sparse layout with red indicating future proposed buildings .......... 58
Figure 42. Proposed sparse layout blend into context ...................................................... 58
Figure 43. Courtyard scenario........................................................................................... 59
Figure 44. Traditional and contemporary door frame details ........................................... 60
Figure 45. Traditional Door and window frames .............................................................. 61
Figure 46. an adaptive masonry wall using tamped earth and hidden steel structure...... 61
Figure 47. Dougong structure, traditional wood balancing system-connecting wall and roof ........................................................................................................................................... 62
Figure 48. Typology catalog. Local landscape, varieties of traditional building orders and roof types ......................................................................................................................................... 63
Figure 49. Scheme 2. Center approach ............................................................................. 64
Figure 50. Scheme 1. Off center approach ....................................................................... 64
Figure 51. Scheme selection and front elevation .............................................................. 65
Figure 52. Final schematic design of hybrid of scheme 1 and 2 ....................................... 66
Figure 53. Village center section ...................................................................................... 66
Figure 54. Scheme 2, Angled ........................................................................................... 67
Figure 55. Scheme1. Orthogonal ..................................................................................... 67
Figure 56. Schematic visitor center cross section ............................................................. 67
Figure 57. Visitor center courtyard cross section ............................................................. 67
Figure 58. Dimension of typical courtyard houses and its spatial quality ........................ 68
Figure 59. Proposed Site Plan ........................................................................................... 69
Figure 60. Site Section ...................................................................................................... 69
Figure 61. Aerial Perspective from the hilltop ................................................................. 70
Figure 62. Building form diagram - courtyard form and its adaptive forms .................... 71
Figure 63. Visitor Center Floor Plan ............................................................................... 72
Figure 64 Studio Plan ........................................................................................................ 73
Figure 65 Studio Site Plan ................................................................................................. 73
Figure 66. Village Center Floor Plan ............................................................................... 74
Figure 67. Visitor Center Vignettes .................................................................................. 75
Figure 68. Visitor center vignettes continue ..................................................................... 75
Figure 69. Studio vignettes ............................................................................................... 75
Figure 70. Village center and textile studio vignettes.......................................................... 76
Figure 71. Visitor center building section and exploded axonometric .............................. 76
Figure 72. Paper studio and Pottery studio wall section-elevation..................................... 77
Figure 73. Village Center wall section elevation featuring wood pergola ......................... 77
Figure 74. Pergola Structure axonometric diagram ........................................................... 77
Chapter 1. Social and culture crisis in China
Vanishing of the traditional village
Globalization and urbanism has brought opportunities attracting village Chinese moving out of rural areas in search of a prosperous and new life. Similar to other countries’ experience in the early 20th century, the mainstream of the society became modernism and pragmatism. The further open policy to boost economy growth after 1984 open-door policy further reinforces the booming of urbanization and cities, starting the sharp contrasts between cities and villages.
However similarly to other post-modernized countries, China has realized that a lot of its traditional values and culture is vanishing and deconstructing through a series of modernization movements. One of the most significant change is the vanishing traditional villages and their heritage embedded.
“Traditionally, Chinese culture has always been based on the rural societies,” said the famous writer and scholar Feng Jicai. “Once the village disappears, the culture will pass into oblivion too.”
In 2000, there were 3.7 million villages in China. The number dropped to 2.6 million by 2010. Villages are vanishing as a speed of 80-100 per day in China. The major reason for the vanishing villages is that many villagers and peasants are moving
---
3 Ian Johnson, “In China, ‘Once the Villages Are Gone, the Culture Is Gone’” New York Times February 1st 2014, A1
4 Johnson, “In China, ‘Once the Villages Are Gone, the Culture Is Gone’”, A1
out of countryside, pursuing a prosperous life in cities. For the first time in history, the urban population exceeded the rural population in China in 2011.\(^5\)
The vanishing of villages and decreasing population of villagers makes the ideology grown out of farmland deteriorate. Unfortunately, the arbitrary understanding of traditional culture in village as “uncivilized and negative” becomes the common idea by the majorities of the society in China.\(^6\) The Chinese spirit, rooted in the village, was once popular and romantic through literature and art. In the modern society, however, it is struggling, barely surviving.
*The loss of traditional craftsmanship and architecture form*
The direct consequence of vanishing traditional villages is the disappearing of tradition, artisan skills and indigenous living style. The category of traditional is not limited to folk art and non-physical heritages, but also the practice of traditional Chinese architecture. Chinese scholars have identified many causes, yet the two major factors are the single-minded economic growth and social structure changes.
The Chinese government’s single-minded dedication to GDP growth has deeply affect the social and cultural development of the country. The direct result is the stagnation and even retardation of social and cultural developments, such as folk arts, traditional crafts and architecture. The focuses on urbanization also lead to lacking infrastructure and information outside the countryside. This may also lead to the rise of
---
vulgar and materialized style, leaving worse impression on village tradition. \(^7\) Also due to the high demand of commodities, the mentor-mentee module of craftmaking does not fit the mass requirement of industrialism.
Architecturally, the courtyard house simply reinforce this social structure based off family. Courtyard house, Chinese the most common dwelling type, is an ensemble of several freestanding structure with a shared outdoor space called yuanzi, a courtyard. All family live around the courtyard with a clear order and hierarchy from the eldest to the youngest. The courtyard was the spatial core and was a gathering place of the family. However, with the rapid change of social structure and rise of cities, courtyard houses are dying together with the old town fabric, as well as the activities used to happen in a courtyard. Craft itself in contemporary society has become merely a symbol or a memory, but the true craft-making tradition as a celebration and learning process and family activities is disappearing.
An authentic experience of village life
One of the most obvious phenomena is the construction of “villa” houses, an imported form of architecture from Italy and other western culture. However, any architecture form leaving the origin needs to be critically studied and carefully adopted to another culture, since the modernism of the city have made local folks lose the ability to judge and build their unique value, i.e the tradition.\(^8\)
---
\(^8\) Xia Zhao 赵霞, “Chuan Tong Xiang Cun Wen Hua de Zh Xi Wei Ji yu Jia Zhi Chong Jian [On the Order Changes and Value Reconstruction of Rural Culture]”
The limit of a tourism driven industry is its temporary yet not sustainable. For well-preserved villages, they can package the entire village as a museum for tourists and scholars to continue the study. However, this format simply transform the attraction of a village as a commodity to sell, yet not fundamentally solve the cultural and economic crisis of a village, let alone the small number of existing preserved villages. In order to save a village, one must study essential beauty of a village and its inhabitant’s lifestyles. The village needs to sustain through a kind of product rooted in the tradition and heritage, not merely a static architecture and museum.
*Design Thesis: redesign, reclaim and rejuvenate*
This thesis will investigate one of the typical villages, struggling with those social and physical changes. On one hand, it is pointless to stop the technology from improving people’s living quality. The design needs to help locals and villages to set up a positive attitude towards technology and its convenience. On the other hand, the tradition and the culture that used to be a part of the villages need to continue and pass along to the next generation. This thesis questions is the paradox by Paul Ricoeur, which is “how to become modern and to return to sources, how to revive an old dormant civilization and take part in universal civilization.” The challenge of the thesis is to find a balance that can salvage the village and save the tradition without compromising necessary technology and modernism.
---
10 Paul Ricoeur, “Universal Civilization and National Cultures” (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1965) 276-7
The Japanese graphic artist Kenya Hara used the word “redesign” in his book *Designing the design*. He stated the power of rethinking fundamental elements of Japanese culture after the World War II culture crisis and how that design theory get to reform the design and creative industry in Japan. Hara’s theory is one of the approaches to this question, starting from identifying the essence of the culture, in his case is the Japanese tradition, such as lifestyles and daily objects. This design thesis is to use the traditional crafts, and the local people’s living style to redesign the unique and poetic countryside. Studying the strength and attraction of the essential beauty of the countryside may bring the life back, and regenerate a confidence to the villager and countryside development.
In response to this critical situation of villages and regional architecture vanishing in China, the project will address the balance of both economical and spiritual remedies through reconfiguring the Chinese traditional courtyard form. The study of courtyard form will provide one kind of authentic reminiscent of Chinese traditional architecture. Besides, having the primary program as craft learning workshops and production studios could also reclaim the beauty of the traditional craft making. Ultimately, this redesign-reclaim-rejuvenate proposal may have adopted as part of the plan to salvage many ordinary villages in China. It provides a certain economic assistance to the local peasants, while maintaining the inspiring core.
This thesis will mostly research the northern Chinese courtyard and dwelling architecture typology. In the contemporary Chinese cultural context, northern China
---
region includes “the northeast, the region straddling the Great Wall, the Loess Plateau, and the north China Plain.”\textsuperscript{12} These region’s dynamic geography and culture immersion throughout history have enriched this courtyard architecture language.
Figure 1. Map of northern China indicating as the white on the map (Source: China’s old Dwelling by Ronald G Knapp)
Chapter 2. Hequ-Dakou Region
History
Before the rise of railway and high-speed train system, Hequ was a significant trade center and port connecting the upper stream of the Yellow River in Shanxi Province. Across from Hequ Shanxi, the land rises up becoming Mongolia Plateau. The higher altitude and latitude provides a better environment for grazing, creating the nomadic culture of Mongolia. Lacking essential necessities and commodities, Mongols aggressively harassed and robbed Chinese frontier provinces, one of which is Shanxi. To protect frontier villages from constant harassment and robbery, Chinese built the Great Wall Yellow river, creating a double defense system against the north border of China since 200 BC.
Figure 2. Hequ and other villages across the Yellow River in historical record
(Source: Hequ Xian Zhi Vol 1, Towns, territory and geography, from Creative Commons)
---
13 Chunxiao, Cao et el. He qu xian zhi Vol 1-6 [河曲縣志: 6 卷], 1830.
Hequ-Dakou area is the critical intersection of the two cultures. Its development stimulated the expansion of agriculture, the interaction of two ethnic groups, and eventually the commercial culture. The western and northern Shanxi Province is mostly fragmented mountains and arid climate in Shanxi, a typical Losse Plateau geography. The lack of flatland limits the cultivating land. Frequent floods and droughts made many people in Shanxi leave their home and try to escape across the Great Wall to Mongolia. Since 1644, under the Manchu rule, Han people started to move to Mongolia across the Great Wall and the Yellow river to cultivate and develop settlements. The open policy solved the food crisis, and further stabilized the relationship with nomadic people. Meanwhile, the increasing demand for Chinese crafts, tea, crops and other produce from Mongolia and Russia boosted the bilateral trade path called “Xikou”. The given name of Xikou means the west port of China; started the westward walking trade route connecting across Mongolia Plateau, and further to Russia. The route was active since late 17th century until modern China.
14 Huanfang Wang and Wuyu Bao, 王换芳，包乌云 “Zou Xi Kou Yi Min Yun Dong De Chengyin Ji Dui Meng Han Guan Xi de Yin Xiang” [The historical reason of Xikou migration and its impact to Han-Mongolian’s bilateral relationship] 走西口移民运动的成因及对蒙汉关系的影响, Journal of Enshi Technical College [恩施职业技术学院学报] Vol. 27(2015), 41
15 Qingping Liu, 刘青平, “Xi Kou Wen Hua Yu Qu Yu Jing Ji Fa Zhan” [Xikou Culture and Regional Economic Development] 西口文化与区域经济发展, Journal of Shanxi University 35 (2012), 92
Although it seems that agriculture is the primary industry in Dakou-Hequ region currently, it used to be the heart of cross-continent trade center. The traditional river cruise and land-commerce routes have been declining since the booming of railway system and air-travel. “Xikou” culture, a regional economic format connecting farmers and nomads, is one of the disappeared traditional commercial systems.\(^\text{17}\) The current Hequ town preserved the symbolic part of the Xikou ferry port, a dragon temple. Ferry service from Xikou is primarily for tourists during peak season. Across from the river, facing Hequ is stripe of farming unions based on families. Those unions managed the 386 acres of farmland along the Yellow river. Dakou village is one of farming union. Locals take ferry off the Dakou port, 1-mile northeaster of the village to Hequ town center to
shop, sell and visit. This local port was first recorded in local history record around 17th century. Unfortunately, the historical port was destroyed during Japan-China war in mid-20th century. The closest town is 40 minutes’ drive away, called Longkou. Figure 2.2-2.4 show the locals
It is only 3 miles from Dakou to the border of Inner Mongolia (Meng)-ShaanXi (Shan) through road and Yellow River as the border of Inner Mongolia-Shanxi (Jin). The unique location and unique landscape has made fame of the town and therefore locals name this region, as place where “roster crowing across three provinces”.
Figure 4. Map of the site at the border among Shaanxi, Inner Mongolia and Shanxi and the zoom in view below
River fronts
To across the river getting Hequ, villagers take ferry from either the upper north entrance of the Dakou village, across from the Temple, or through Dazhan village ferry. The ferryboat can take up to two cars. Even though Xikou port still function as a ferry, it comes less commercial and more serve for the recreational and leisure purposes, especially during local events and holidays. The location of the utilitarian ferry on the edge of the strengthen the cultural significance of the Xikou historical ferry.
Figure 5. Ferry port outside of Dakou village
Figure 6. Villagers traveling from utilitarian ferry ports
(Credit to user cll16 on Panoramio, Google Earth)
Figure 7. Xikou port, Dragon temple
Floodplain, mountains and climates
The floodplain created by the power of Longkou gorge becomes the flourish and reliable farmland of Dakou villager. Figure 2.5 farm – in relationship to the floodplain shows that the majority of Hequ’s suburb and Dakou village use floodplain to grow crops. Sitting at the intersection of Mongolia and Losse Plateau gives Dakou a relatively stable and suitable climate for agriculture development. Dakou has a continental temperate climate. Winters are long, dry, and cold, summers short and hot. Most of the rainfall happens in July, August and September with average rainfall 450 mm (17.7 in). Compared to many other agricultural settlements further in the north of Inner Mongolia, Dakou has a short frost-free period with about 150 days. It allows growing varieties of produces, such as watermelons, yams, wild apples and cotton, besides common economic produce like sorghum, hemp, potatoes and millet.
Figure 9. Local climate data, diagrams from top to bottom are: average temperature (Celsius), average max and min temperature (Celsius), and average precipitation (millimeter)
(source: http://www.levoyageur.net/weather-city-HEQU.html)
A juxtaposition of settlements, Pastoral V.S. Urban
Figure 10. Site analysis – the relationship between built environment and natural landscape
This set of site analysis diagram shows the close the three layers of natural landscape: the river, farmlands and mountains. The landscape creates the unique form of urban fabric. Hequ and Dakou has completely different river front, which ignores the early history of the commercial development and interaction. The juxtaposition of two type of built environments also explains the disappearing of the vernacular architecture and its culture. The pastoral landscape in Dakou represents the vernacular and traditional philosophy between human and nature. On the other hand, Hequ is transforming the landscape towards modernism, revealing less about the nature but more about infrastructure and convenience. It is the critical comparison of the two places, as it represents a gradual evolution of urbanism. therefore, it is necessary to represent the changes from one side the river to another to visitors and people.
*Varieties of landscape and their tourism value*
This region because of its rough landscape and hill topography has attract many tourists. Figure 2.10 below shows the relative distance of each of the attractions to Dakou and the ways of approach. In general, Dakou is the gateway from Shanxi and other southern province to many Inner Mongolia attractions to many attractions in the Jin-Meng-Shan region and therefore draws in visitors and users of the proposed building.
Loess
“Deposition is clearly and widely recorded in North China. During the Middle Pleistocene the most common type of deposit consisted of red slop-wash clays and thick red loamy alluvium... The material time was a fine loamy silt laid by wind and known as huangtu (yellow earth) or loess.”\textsuperscript{18}
Danxia landform
It refers to various landscapes found in southeast, southwest and northwest China that "consist of a red bed characterized by steep cliffs". It is a unique type of petrographic geomorphology found in China. Danxia landform is formed from red-colored sandstones and conglomerates of largely Cretaceous age.\textsuperscript{19}
\textsuperscript{18} Tuan, China, 15
\textsuperscript{19} "Danxia Landform of China", whc.unesco.org. Retrieved 2009-12-16
Coal mine
Shan-Jin-Meng region has a vast amount of both deep and shallow underground coalmines. It is the most important industry for this area of China. People who choose to visit the area by car are particularly interested in visiting several coalmines.
Hydropower plants of Longkou
This recently constructed hydro-power plant is located 20 miles north of Dakou village. Its hydro-power relies on the flashy volume of water coming from the Mongolia Plateau entering the narrow Longkou gorge. Longkou gorge together with the power plant attracts a lot of seasonal tourists during summer and fall.
Ming Dynasty Great Wall
Many of the citadels still stand along the mountain range north of Dakou village.
Kenghis Khan’s Mausoleum
The only well documented mausoleum hosting memorial events annually to memory Kenghis Khan, the spiritual hero of Mongolians. The mausoleum is located 200 km away from the Hequ-Dakou site, 4 hours via road traffic.
Summary and site design strategies
It is clear that the site sits on the border of two interdependent cultures that have both taken hundreds of years to form. However, many daily activities from Dakou and Hequ are embedded with the existing geographical situation and similar culture background. The challenge for the design is to how to introduce this bilateral condition and develop visitor’s awareness of the form of the culture. One of the possible method is
to reveal and fully engage with the activities that would remind the history. Because of the complex composition of the site and its surrounding, it is necessary to incorporate a sequence of activities to give introduction of the place making decision later about the building in Dakou.
1. Reclaim the ferry culture
Because of the significance of Xikou ferry and being the symbol of exchange between two culture and provinces, it is necessary to bring the people to the site of the thesis design with Xikou ferry as their departure point. The fully exposure to the long scroll of scenic landscape of Losse plateau is the first step of the journey. The width of the river between Xikou ferries to the potential drop off ferry at Dakou is 0.64 miles, which takes 10 mins to across the river through low-power ferry boat. Having three ferries also help to separate vehicular ferry transportation and pedestrians. Ideally, Xikou ferry will carry the majority of people without cars and the current commercial ferry outside of Hequ city core will carry visitors who prefer to across the river with their cars.
2. Embrace the agriculture activities
Farmland along the river not only provide abundant food and economic resources, but also have a significant educational impact for the visitors. The farmland also plays an important role connecting the riverfront to the settlements. The long linear strips of farmland division indicates the simple but effective settlement pattern that connects the mountain and river perpendicularly. The wisdom of using floodplain to cultivate yet settle against the edge of floodplain follows the fundamental site selection in natural condition. To respect this tradition and pattern, the building will be located together as
other dwellings against the mountain bottom facing the farmland, river and Hequ across from the river.
3. Utilize the regional feature of landscape, resources and other tourism destination for potential visitors
Various tourism from all direction and different kinds of visitors brings a huge potential for Dakou village as part of the regional tourism network. However, most of the scenic attraction, relics and natural features won’t hold tourist’s overnights. To hold the amount of tourism through a long process of activity and village experience can help stabilize the seasonal tourism in the region. The program chapter will future analysis the potential activities happening in the region to enrich people’s visiting experience.
Figure 12. Site Choice
Site selection considering the linkage to the ferry
As we can see from the figure 2.9, river, farmland and the mountain landscape forms a close correlation. The proposal of the facility will highlight the influence of the landscape to building design and daylit the relationship through a sequential arrival path. In addition, the site selection area creates a dialogue could also create a distance dialogue between Dakou and Hequ, forming a vernacular landmark as Xikou port.
Immediate site analysis
This is a zoom-in site plan basemap zooming into the select area on Figure 2.11. Red building indicates cultural/public building. In the drawing, the red one on the left is a temple, and the further right is an elementary school. Almost all the buildings built on site is above altitude 3002 ft, which is the boundary of the floodplain. However,
based on the location of the two existing cultural/public building, it seems logic to place the site to a higher location. It provides a clear visual message to visitors and locals.
Figure 14. Approaches to the sites and potential gateway to the facility site
Gateway
The diagram above shows the two possible approach via either ferry or road. The only two methods to get to the site. The gateway highlights area that both approach will potentially pass to enter the site. Gateway is very critical in rural area like Dakou. Gateway architecture is a very important feature in Chinese tradition. However, Dakou village does not have specific gateway. All the agricultural unions along the river has no gateway, instead only signs. On the other side, Hequ still preserve some of the old gateway entering the old town. Although it is adequate to indicate entering a place through signs like the figure ____ shows, the current design of all the village signs does
not work as an architectural structural. Again, it is because the dominate road traffic in the area.
Figure 15. Gateway in Hequ and Dakou
Site options
Figure 16. Site options for facility design. The two choices are both facing the river, with similar topography.
Currently, the two location shown in the diagram has the same footprint, 30,000 sq ft. The differences of the two location is their distance to the village and topographical location. Although they are both on the hill, the slope of two sites are about the same. It means the construction of the building may use the same technique and typology as reference.
The two locations are about 800-1000 ft. apart, within 5 minutes’ walk. Another approach to the site design is design two facility based on public vs. private relationship. Location #2 in the diagram in this case would serve as a public segment of the overall
program, while location 1, higher on the site could serve as a rather private and monastic place for artists and researchers.
**Chinese village layout**
There are two major category of shape and layout of Chinese villages: nucleated and dispersed. Density of population and the geographical condition both determine which category a village belongs. In Dakou-Hequ region, villages are mostly along the river against the mountains, creating a “elongated” or “linear” (daizhuang) regional layout. Further looking at the traditional Chinese dwelling habitat, a linear village is most likely to stretch east-west direction so settlements are built with north south orientation can maximize natural ventilation and better solar gain. Looking at each of the villages along the river, it looks more dispersed.
In order to understand the landform and the relationship of the village layout, it is necessary to study the relationship between built environment and landscape. This series diagram below represent an analytical approach to understand the potential reason for Dakou’s layout. The hypothesis is that the selection of each settled dwelling and groups of houses depends on the availability of ground water, through signs of vegetation groing. From the ecological standpoint, it is reasonable to conclude that the early settlers chose places to build where they can find reliable water resources so they can have stable agricultural and domestic activities.
Figure 17. Diagram series showing the hypothetical village form reason and determinant
Chapter 3. Program Analysis
Collections of crafts and their studio requirements
Pottery
Figure 18. a throw wheel pottery-making scene (source: http://m.91ddcc.com/t/66405)
Clay is one of the major side product of coalmine. Shanxi province also has a very long history making pottery and ceramic product. Depending on the format of teaching and artist’s habit of working, pottery studio can vary a lot based on the making process. However, in general, it requires equipment such as throwing machine, slab roller and kilns.
Pottery studio will be equipped with both hand sculpting space and throwing machine space. The firing space can be either included in the studio, or a separate area. Usually in the modern craft school, potters use gas kiln, and electric kiln. When firing a large number of pottery at one time, artists also uses traditional firing such as wood firing
or furnace firing. In total, a pottery studio needs minimal from 700-1200 sq ft space, depending on the type of pottery making process.
Besides firing equipment, the studio requires a lot of storage space for raw material, pottery art pieces before and after firing. Before glazing and final firing, the pottery usually needs to be placed in a moist and shaded area to prevent deformation.
The diagram below shows a site visit in Torpedo Factory Art Center. Susan Cohen is one of the resident potters at the art center. She occupied mostly a 12 x 10 space for hand sculpting and light amount of wheel throwing through a portable pedal operating wheel machine to the right. She mentioned that this studio is shared by four potters, and the size of the work space is quite common and even in Torpedo Factory Art Center.
Northern China uses hemp as the primary material for making paper. It is widely grown along the wetland along the river and. Some farmer grow then to sell on the market. Artists will cook the hemp with limestone powder to soften the fiber. The
cooked fiber will place in spinning wheel machine with a lot of water to form a suspension state. Artist then will use different size of molds and deckles to string the slurry liquid, transport to wet felt blanket and further press and dehydrate. A complete thin layer of damp paper will be lay flat on a dry clean surface to be either air dry or heat dry.
Every year lunar calendar July 15th, people in Hequ-Dakou will place paper lantern on the Yellow River to memory their ancestors and pasted relatives who went across the river to pursue better life. Paper lantern becomes a major crafts used in local events and celebration.
The paper studio includes a paper making space and a classroom for paper artifacts making. As we can see from figure 3.3, Papermaking requires a lot of use of water and cooking. In PAAC paper making studio, the space uses a standard warehouse space with a big sink and floor drainage. The working space is around the sink. During a
four-person workshop, the space is 95% utilized, while most of the occasion only 2-3 people using the space. The space will have a 32 ft long wall to implement big sinks and stove area to process raw material. The classroom will have large flat shelf storage spaces to store different type of paper, and hanging wall surface for tools. Totally, the paper studio requires around 1000-1300 sq ft space. In paac paper making studio, the artists mostly use portable water, having no recycle water equipment. In the proposed paper making studio, a water recycle and filtration system can be introduced to maximize the water use, as Dakou-Hequ has limit amount of underground water for domestic use. River water according to Greg, the paper making instructor, is also a good and ancient water resource for paper making.
Textile artwork
Tiger toy is a common handmade toy by the elder generation to pass on to the young generation. They are usually made of stitched colorful clothes and stuffed with local crops such as beans and barley. The harvests produce stuffed artificial art piece also carry best wishes for a prosperous year in the future.
Figure 21. Heasoon’s studio showing process of textile design and proposed space
Heasoon is a textile Chemist and designer. She works as a freelance as well as resident artist at Torbedo Factory art school. She presented her studio space at home to
demonstrate common machines and other space organizers she used as an artist.
According to her experience working over 20 years on textile design, a textile studio needs a good daylight and ventilation design. The daylight helps to evaluate fabric color better. The looming process could generate a lot of micro dust particle, thus requiring ventilation frequently. In addition, when working on yarn in a dry space, it may generate static electricity.
Textile art studio requires spaces for both floor loom, table loom and large storage spaces of yarn, fabric and tools. Besides traditional loom, the studio also includes a felt making space.
Fermented food
As previously introduced, this region has prolonged winter that does not allow harvesting crops and produce. Fermentation is a primary way to preserve fresh vegetable and it is still popular regionally and is a feature part of local food. Food area preserved in a jar with ingredients and spices to let bacterial break down. Besides fermented vegetable, broomcorn based alcohol and barley based black vinegar are also nationally famous. All these food-processing techniques passed along with other regional culture. The skills of transforming seasonally available food resources to a long-lasted form also shows the wisdom of local people to live sustainably and adaptively.
The cooking studio will utilize a part of the kitchen and storage room to demonstrate fermenting process. To make people aware of the daily cooking, the kitchen will use a large amount of glazing space to allow people to see through.
Program Components
The program of the purposed facility will include two major components: a craft school and a culture center. The craft school will teach, mentor and practice four local crafts, such as pottery, textile product, paper artifacts and food. The culture center will include most of the public activates, offices for administration and help organize tours. The interaction of the two components will be a part where all users get together and form a closed loop of village experience.
A series of craftmaking experiences will act as a connection between the village and the craft school, such as hosting exhibitions and celebration during Chinese holidays. The separation of the school and culture center helps to maintain a part of the facility profitable, and at the same time preserve a private and monastic environment to immerse and produce. The purpose of having both a culture center and craft school is to integrate tourism with continuing studies of crafts. Finally, artists and researchers such as professors on sabbatical leave could use a private suite to conduct intensive research and production.
The season is very unbalanced in the Dakou-Hequ area, which means not all activities can be year-round. The diagram below shows the frequency of each program throughout in four season. Bringing artists as residents in the village will help to maintain the function as a craft-making center; it will also allow a quiet and productive mode for the artists in the off-peak season with fewer tourist’s distractions.
Based on the required space for each studio, the total space for the program is about 10,518 sq. ft. The floor area is based on the condition of having only one artist retreat suit. In the program date chart, a suite includes a bathroom, parlour, kitchenette and artist bedroom, total 300 sq. ft. If the retreat suite is more than 1, it means the total
floor area will be 10218 plus the number of retreat suites.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Proposed Program Data</th>
<th>Name</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Area</td>
<td>Name</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>41 SF</td>
<td>Bath</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>68 SF</td>
<td>Parlour</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>87 SF</td>
<td>kitchenette</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>107 SF</td>
<td>Artist bedroom</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>150 SF</td>
<td>Restroom</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>150 SF</td>
<td>Restroom</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>150 SF</td>
<td>Storage</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>150 SF</td>
<td>Storage</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>181 SF</td>
<td>Artist studio</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>284 SF</td>
<td>Loom room</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>328 SF</td>
<td>Canning/Fermenting</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>330 SF</td>
<td>Mechanical</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>606 SF</td>
<td>Paper Making</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>722 SF</td>
<td>Paper craft studio</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>884 SF</td>
<td>Textile Studio</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1114 SF</td>
<td>Culinary Class/Studio</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1210 SF</td>
<td>Lobby/Entry/Library</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1211 SF</td>
<td>Dining</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1299 SF</td>
<td>Pottery Studio</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>1447 SF</td>
<td>Gallery/Shop</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10518 SF</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Figure 26. Proposed program floor area
Chapter 4. Case study
Vernacular Architecture: Courtyard
Courtyard form is the most common and versatile housing typology in China.
Figure 27 is one of the local examples of a courtyard house. Its broad definition means a dwelling with enclosed outdoor space, yuanzi. Chinese people consider the courtyard is the place where human and landscape get along and creates a harmony. The yard takes about 40% of the total area of a courtyard dwelling. This is also a place where family getting together, practicing domestic activities and socializing with guests. This picture below shows how Dakou local people utilize the courtyard.
Figure 27. a Dakou village courtyard house showing the function and the overall layout of the court.
Vernacular courtyard house designed by ordinary people is less decorative and more utilitarian. If courtyard by loose definition means an enclosed space, there are 4 types of courtyard houses widely built in northern China. The diagram below shows the four types.
Figure 28. Basic courtyard form in northern China
To create a large space, people would expand the courtyard through expanding the four basic form shown as Figure 28. The most common case is the combination of commercial and residential space by merchants through a series of courtyard sequence. The two example below are located in rural area of Beijing, sharing the fundamental same building types.
Figure 29. Cuan di xia village in Men Tou Gou, Beijing
If the site has considerable topographical change, the courtyard usually will place the most significant and private place, such as unmarried daughter’s room or master bedroom on the highest level. It provides layers of thresholds, protecting privacy.
Shanxi is a very hilly province, making it challenging to have a horizontal expanding courtyard house. The most common solution for the topography yet maintaining the courtyard form is to create a stepping terrace.
Figure 30. Terrace courtyard layout and hierarchy based on topography
Figure 31. Sub terrain houses in Shanxi and Inner Mongolia on Losses Plateau
When the courtyard houses are built upon the hills with very steep topography. The formal form of terrace is no longer feasible. The losses plateau area along the yellow river basin has very fragile landform. The sub terrain house, or cave houses are built against the hill to make use of the topography and thick layer of losses. This form is the best for this climate as it is very dry, keeping the losses stable and durable. The use of earth as the structure and wall also provides a good balance of heating and cooling due to the high heat capacity of earth and soil.
Program precedents:
The case studies and diagrams below help to understand how creative art space is organized, promoted and designed in various location and different cultural background.
**Torpedo Factory Art School**
Program: Art gallery, craft school and museum
Site: Alexandria, VA, USA
Site and building area: 30000 sq ft
Torpedo Factory Art School is associated with City of Alexandria, Office of Art.
It is a local crafts and artists enclave with 78 artists’ studios, Art league school,
exhibitions and craft shops. It is an adaptive reuse building out of a torpedo factory. The building creates a three-story vertical atria and corridors spaces for all users to circulate. Studios, classrooms and all other programs are along the periphery of the building, maximizing the daylight through windows. First floor of the building is comprising of 10 studios, mostly ceramics and textile art, with each of them shared by 4-8 artists depending on the disciplines. Each studio is both a shop, and store displaying artifacts as a gallery. Each studio run by resident artists with a fixed schedule. The Art League School and a few artist studios, mostly painting and jewelry arts reserves second floor space with a common shared corridor. Third floor space is for an archaeology research institute and its museum, mostly private offices and classrooms.
Takeaway: The building shows how three different spaces can be organized and connected by architecturally adapt an old form, in this case a torpedo factory.
Haystack School of Crafts
Program: Craft school
Site: Deer Isle, ME, USA
Haystack school is located 30 miles from the main continent, in upper northeastern Maine. The school stretch downslope from the top of the hill overlooking the Ocean. The school marks its promenade through a long stairway connecting 5 levels of different zones, either workshops or dorms. The biggest public gathering space is on the second highest zone, enclosed by two workshop buildings. All the building use local wood as major material and minimized the interior decoration. Each building has a shed roof profile, oriented due south to allow for both views from the south and quiet daylight through northern clerestory.
This craft school is a good example of how sites respond its unique landscape and landform. The building reflects local construction and materials creating a natural textile experience of the school, as its mission. The site design also makes use of the topography and shaded woods to separates the public zones from private dorms. To define a place, which is different from the rest of the wood, the architect designed a shaded threshold as the gate entering the school, separating the natural and designed landscape.
Figure 33. Haystack Mountain School of Crafts analysis (source: diagram a. is an original copy from Progressive Architecture, Jan 1994, 19. Other diagrams above come from the author)
Glen Echo Park
Program: amusement park, artist’s enclave
Site: Washington, D.C, USA
Glen Echo Park was once an amusement park, as the destination of first capital cable car routes. The park was initially a place for Chautauqua retreat. After the close of the amusement park, it became part of the U.S national park service. Currently Glen Echo park offers art and culture courses through the Montgomery County park system, providing spaces and facilities for cultural and recreational activities.\(^{20}\)
One of the take away is how Glen Echo Park maintains its cultural and recreational purpose through using the platform of the national park network. It runs as a normal park-keeping visitors and at the same time provide educational and cultural
\(^{20}\) Glen Echo Park History “Fun is where you find it” https://www.nps.gov/glee/index.htm
opportunities for the neighborhoods. Unlike other art center, Glen Echo scatters most of the studios in the park, allowing people to stop by each studio yurts as they walking around in the park.
Unlike other craft school being responsive to the local tradition, Glen Echo adopted several yurts and transform them into art classrooms. The figure shows how a pottery studio embed firing kiln in the structure of a yurt. The yurt building typology comes from Mongolia, a nomadic country. It is a possibility to introduce yurt in the building design because of the Mongolian influence in Dakou area.
Figure 35. Glen Echo Pottery Studio in yurt and comparison to Inner Mongolia vernacular yurts
Macdowell colony
Program: Artists enclave, inspiration hub
Site: Peterborough, NH, USA
Macdowell Colony was originally private house of American composer Edward MacDowell and Marian MacDowell, his wife. Edward found himself being productive and full of inspiration in the countryside of Peterborough, New Hampshire. Later he invited his artists who share the same creative experience in the colony. It is the first American artist colony in the U.S. 21
MacDowell colony provides unique production environments for all kinds of artists, such as painters, musicians, writers as well as architects. 32 studios scattered in the states all have different look to allow artist to pick the right textile experience for their creative work. To further immerse in the location, lunch for everyone is prepared by local villagers and delivered to their studio. Dinner is offered in common dining area to encourage artists to share, talk and social.
Take away: MacDowell Colony provides a great example of using local materials to maximize the textile experience of each studio. Common materials used widely in the campus are shingles, rough large pebble stone, and wood sidings. Also the engagement between artists and locals through food delivery service is a very unique format. It preserves the artists’ privacy and production mode, yet interactive and full of charm.
21 MacDowll Freedom to Create, “History of MacDowell Colony” http://www.macdowellcolony.org/about-FAQ.html
Figure 36. MacDowell Colony Studio building texture collage
Chapter 5. Schematic Design
Design strategies
The schematic design is to test the integration of site design and tectonic aspects of proposed buildings. The proposed project program has both public and private spaces. The public section is to encourage tourists or public with no prior living experience in rural area to interact, learn and gain a different perspective of vernacular living tradition. At the same time, the public space could potentially become a gathering space and public amenity for the villagers to use and adapt in the future. The private section is to create spaces to encourage practice craft making and continue some craft-making tradition from the region and pass along to scholars, craftsmen and the young generation.
According to the project program purpose and social interaction, there are two fundamental different approach, an architectural approach and an urban design approach. The architecture approach focuses on the transition among different spaces to fulfill public and private needs. The urban design strategy on the other hand has to deal with the spatial relationship between proposed building and its compatibility with the existing pattern and environment.
Regardless of the strategies, the proposed program will be a public building in relation to the ordinary dwellings of villagers. The placing of a public building in Chinese traditional village vary depending on the layout of the village. A dispersed village along river levee or against the mountain tend to build their public building on either the interaction of paths or a topographical top.\(^{22}\)
Figure 37. "Acropolis" scheme
Figure 38. Public Private two building scheme
Figure 39. Sparse scheme
*SWOT Analysis*
To find the optimized scheme to achieve the goal of integrating the people and the village. Figure 40 below shows the comparison study based on SWOT strategies.
The first scheme “Acropolis/hilltop” scheme places the building on the higher elevation, geographically dominate and separate from the rest of the village. This design will have the opportunity to utilize the highpoint location creating a visual attraction, yet losing the goal of interacting with the village.
Second scheme “School-tourism” scheme reduces the construction difficulty and create a two-point destination. The new construction will have a distinct architectural language and massing compared to the rest of the context of the village. Yet it will create a smaller impact than the first one and minimal interrupt the local people’s life.
The third scheme “Sparse” scheme aims to mix the proposed studio and program buildings with the existing village fabric. Each of the building is at a certain location where potential public space can be generated in the future for people to gather and share information. The challenge is yet to find and design a traffic path that can connect the dots and make the whole program a unity whole. Another challenge for this scheme is to deal with the resource management shared by the village and the studio and craft facility.
All three scheme shows a great amount of opportunities for the program as well as villages. Referring back to the project objective of creating the interactive learning environment, the sparse scheme mixing the new and old buildings is helpful to merge the proposed program into the vernacular living life style of the village.
During a conversation with Prof. Hurtt, thesis chair of this project, he addresses an interesting topic and observation about the degree of open attitude towards outside culture and visitors. As he mentioned, a lot of culture is sensitive to influence and outside people to tour the space and observe the daily life of villagers. For some culture, it is equivalent to a zoo experience, where animal as objects being watched and potentially becoming entertainment matters. Referring back to the social and cultural background of the site, people settling at the area have had experience of merging, adapting and evolving the frontier culture. Because of the open attitude and the welcoming character of local people, it will be positive feedback through the interaction between the outside people and villagers.
To address the challenge of connecting the sparsely arranged new building, it is necessary to study the organic organization of the village dwellings as well. This is the key to further test the feasibility of the sparse scheme. Figure 41 and 42 show how existing footpath created by local people’s daily walk organizes the sparse scheme. Other than utilizing the existing footpath, the program can also introduce a campus car system for accessibility purpose.
Figure 41. Proposed sparse layout with red indicating future proposed buildings
Figure 42. Proposed sparse layout blend into context
Building mass
Courtyard is a very versatile yet unique building typology. As described on Chapter 3 about vernacular architecture, this building typology is usually a bundle of three or four independent simple bar houses organized to create an open enclosure communal space called courtyard. Depending on the size and the function, the dimension
of each house range from 3 bay to 5 bay up to 7 or 9 bay in rare cases. Figure 43 shows a common scenario that one approaches a courtyard space
---
**Construction and tectonic**
Chinese vernacular dwellings is rather diverse based on the owner’s status, the availability of local materials and the tradition of certain building construction techniques. In northern China, the most common construction would be *tailiang* Framing Structure\(^{23}\)
Besides framing system, some dwellings also uses solid wall system or shear wall system to adapt cold climate.\(^{24}\) Common materials used in solid wall system are tamped wall or *hangtu*\(^{25}\), sundried brick and fired brick. In Dakou region, these materials are all quite common except for *tailiang* framing structure. It is due to the environment that has
\(^{23}\) Knapp, *Chinese Dwelling*, 79.
no big trees as building materials. Some places will simplify the tailiang structure to beam and flat roof to reduce the amount of wood they need to consume. Figure 44 and 45 shows the common wall and door details based on different wall construction methods.
Figure 44. Traditional and contemporary door frame details
Figure 45. Traditional Door and window frames
Figure 46. an adaptive masonry wall using tamped earth and hidden steel structure
Dougong is a unique architecture structure and design elements used to connect roof and wall or framing structure. Dougong uses a series of balancing technique to transfer the roof load to the ground, to minimize seismic load during earthquake. However, this building component rarely exists in vernacular dwellings in Shanxi region and it relates to typology associate with higher social status such as temple buildings and imperial buildings. As figure 48 shows, most of vernacular architecture uses the first five type of roofs where dougong is seldom used. However, the bottom three roofs commonly use dougong to support the massive roof structure.
Design options
The design problem largely focuses on the degree of vernacular and high classical. Traditional Chinese architecture is a very broad definition that involves mainly three class and its corresponding building format: ordinary people (low status dwelling), scholar and aristocrats (landscape, high profile dwelling courtyard) and finally imperial family (temple and palace). The architecture complexity and the degree of crafts upgrade as the class goes up.
Further, during the design process, the program is divided to several different buildings to echo the sparse scheme. There are mainly four group of buildings: dwelling for artists, village center, visitor center and studios. Because of the versatility of
courtyard and its transformation, the design focuses on village and visitor center due to its complexity.
Village Center
Figure 50. Scheme 1. Off center approach
Figure 49. Scheme 2. Center approach
Figure 51. Scheme selection and front elevation
Figure 52. Final schematic design of hybrid of scheme 1 and 2
Figure 53. Village center section
Visitor Center
Figure 54. Scheme 2, Angled
Figure 55. Scheme 1. Orthogonal
Figure 56. Schematic visitor center cross section
Figure 57. Visitor center courtyard cross section
Figure 58. Dimension of typical courtyard houses and its spatial quality
Chapter 6. Proposed Design
Site
Figure 59. Proposed Site Plan
Figure 60. Site Section
Figure 61. Aerial Perspective from the hilltop
The final proposed site design aims to blend the new program into the overall Dakou village layout. As people approaching the village, they experience the village at the same time the new proposed according to its elevation. The overall layout of the village also follows *fengshui* ideology as the existing villages was built.
Visitor center is located at the southeast corner of the villager, at the intersection of primary road and the drainage dike for the farmland. Mobile vehicles will utilize the existing road in the village. Visitors will utilize the footpath of the village to get around. People will experience different programs at different elevations. At 12 feet above river bank is the visitor center. Between 23-30 feet where domestic activities happening, locates the paper and pottery studio. Finally, at 48 feet above river bank is the village center, overlooking the village and serving as a new primary public space for the locals.
Figure 62. Building form diagram - courtyard form and its adaptive forms
The building design follows adaptation of a simple courtyard housing typology. Visitor center is designed to have horizontal aggregating form to present a larger building profile as the first destination of the craft center in Dakou. Studios space is a simple one courtyard form, with the studio as primary structure and storage or gallery spaces as secondary. Finally, the village center is designed to be vertically aggregate because of the site condition.
Visitor Center
The visitor center is a double courtyard form aggregating horizontally. The first arrival courtyard serves as an arrival space featuring event room, administration and small gallery. Entering to the second courtyard is the local cuisine and banquet hall, featuring the cooking studio and a vinegar-making warehouse. The courtyard connected through ramps and stairs to create a corner entering sequence.
Both studio courtyards have its entrance off center from the axis of main structure. It follows the traditional layout of a courtyard house but featuring a rather modern adaptation of wall structure and window details.
Figure 66. Village Center Floor Plan
Village center is a compound of a communal courtyard shared by the local people and a textile courtyard connected by a pergola structure. The pergola structure adopts the *dougong* detail and stage vernacular building form to highlight a certain kind of architectural elements that remind people the essence of traditional architecture.
**Vignettes**
Figure 67. Visitor Center Vignettes
Figure 68. Visitor center vignettes continue
Figure 69. Studio vignettes
Figure 70. Village center and textile studio vignettes
**Tectonics**
**Visitor Center Wall section**
Figure 71. Visitor center building section and exploded axonometric
**Studio Wall Section**
Figure 72. Paper studio and Pottery studio wall section-elevation
Village center wall section and pergola
Figure 73. Village Center wall section elevation featuring wood pergola
Figure 74. Pergola Structure axonometric diagram
Chapter 7. Conclusion
This thesis synthesizes craft, vernacular culture and architecture into a model where multiple groups of people can engage themselves in northern Chinese tradition and craft-making in Dakou. Through making a craft at the facility to learn about the tradition and further understand the celebration ritual, people can have a different understanding of the tradition. At the same time, this model also expresses the power of embracing tradition to rejuvenate a village that struggles with population loss and shift of industry. The project uses a series of architecture techniques both construction and design to present a multiple scales of vernacular life from craft making, building design and finally the village layout. The cross-scaled design approach is to present wide varieties of personal experience that telling the participants the beauty and possible future of traditional crafts and architecture.
The thesis also critic the current situation of tourism in terms of its limits of representing the traditional architecture and vernacular culture. On one hand, tourism is inevitably the new and more socio-ecologically conscious choice for any villages like Dakou due to the environmental constrain and industrialism impact. On the other hand, tourism bringing economic growth at the same time input a new cultural attitude, which could challenge people’s perception about tradition. This is a critical situation, but also an opportunity for vernacular culture.
Architecturally, the thesis project approaches to the critical condition through careful study, analysis and design of both regional and local culture and vernacular architecture language. This process helps to optimize the authenticity experience and also bring up an interesting dialogue between modernism and tradition. Some elements of the
design exactly replicate traditional architecture, such as wood window frame, roof tile and the detail of a vault window and doorframe of the banquet hall. Some architectural details are purposely designed to remind participants a certain kind of architectural language in high-classical architecture, such as the pergola mimicking the *dougong* structure. Finally, there are certain places and details designed to pose a hybrid architecture that opens to the participant to critic, appreciate, or improve. Ultimately, the framework of designing the facility using different design approaches is to provide multiple choices to the villagers to reconsider the beauty and meaning of tradition in Dakou. The extension of the project is how architecture language can continue the living tradition of villages. The answer is rather an open end as long as villagers find it encouraging and educational.
Bibliography
Glen Echo Park History “Fun is where you find it” https://www.nps.gov/glec/index.htm
Jiang, Wei and Li Qiang Qiang “Of feelings and Lives On the design of MaCha Village Center” Architectural Journal, 571-23 April, 2015.
Johnson, Ian, “In China, ‘Once the Villages Are Gone, the Culture Is Gone’” New York Times, February 1st 2014
Lo, Kai-Yin, Puay-peng Ho, and Yuxiang Li. *Gu cheng jin xi: Zhongguo min jian sheng huo fang shi*. Xianggang: Yong ming tang, 1999
MacDowll Freedom to Create, “History of MacDowell Colony”
http://www.macdowellcolony.org/about-FAQ.html
Wang, Huanfang and Bao, Wuyu 王换芳, 包乌云 “Zou Xi Kou Yi Min Yun Dong De Chengyin Ji Dui Meng Han Guan Xi de Yin Xiang “[The historical reason of Xikou migration and its impact to Han-Mongolian’s bilateral relationship] 走西口移民运动的成因及对蒙汉关系的影响, *Journal of Enshi Technical College* [恩施职业技术学院学报] Vol. 27:41. 2015
|
In Praise of Ambiguity: Musical Subtlety and Merleau-Ponty
Tiger C. Roholt
Montclair State University, tiger.roholt@montclair.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.risd.edu/liberalarts_contempaesthetics
Part of the Aesthetics Commons
Recommended Citation
Available at: https://digitalcommons.risd.edu/liberalarts_contempaesthetics/vol11/iss1/19
This Article is brought to you for free and open access by the Liberal Arts Division at DigitalCommons@RISD. It has been accepted for inclusion in Contemporary Aesthetics (Journal Archive) by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@RISD. For more information, please contact mpompeli@risd.edu.
In Praise of Ambiguity: Musical Subtlety and Merleau-Ponty
Tiger C. Roholt
Abstract
When a jazz, rock, or hip-hop drummer strikes certain notes in each measure slightly late, instead of hearing the degree to which those notes are late, we typically hear the effects of those variations; namely, a groove, the "feel" of a rhythm. Slight variations of pitch function similarly. In this essay, I argue that certain analytic theorists go astray due to their preoccupation with the variations themselves. By invoking Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s insights into subtle visual perceptions, and his notion of perceptual indeterminacy, I avoid an account of musical subtlety suggested by Daniel Dennett that is too coarse-grained, as well as the bleak conclusion that certain musical subtleties are ineffable, Diana Raffman's view. I conclude that elements of music that are perceived ambiguously can perform a positive function in such aesthetic experiences: they can mediate or foster emergent qualities; moreover, they must be perceived in this way to do so.
Key words
aesthetic experience, Paul Cézanne, Daniel Dennett, expressive variation, groove, indeterminacy, ineffability, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, musical nuance, musical subtlety, phenomenology, Diana Raffman, rhythm
1. Introduction
The active nature of aesthetic experience is emphasized by R. G. Collingwood, Roman Ingarden, John Dewey, to name a few. One way in which aesthetic experiences are active is that they are exploratory. For instance, in order to apprehend one feature of a painting or musical performance, you may need to direct your attention to other features. A rock music critic may write, "The rhythm of this track has an intriguing, frantic quality; in order to hear this, listen to the way the bass guitar repeatedly races ahead of the drums." This may be followed by advice about what not to attend to: "This frantic quality is difficult to hear; if you focus too much on the keyboard and voices, you may fail to hear it." Aesthetic experiences are often active at least in the sense that we can, and often must, look and listen to different features of an artwork.
Here are three of the questions that drive this essay: What are the effects of perceptual attention upon what we perceive in music? Does a given feature affect other features differently when we attend—or do not attend—to that feature? In cases in which certain features are responsible for emergent qualities, does perceptual attention upon those responsible features affect this emergence? I explore questions such as these through examples of musical nuances (a.k.a. "expressive variations"), such as a slightly raised F-sharp or a slightly early eighth note, and emergent qualities, such as a harmonic brightness or a groove. Although I focus upon music, I believe that some of what I say can be applied to similar perceptual circumstances in visual art; indeed, I will
draw upon examinations of visual perception and visual art.
It is a common methodological starting point in continental phenomenology to focus upon the phenomena under consideration as they show up in ordinary experience. The alternative, according to phenomenologists, is to allow one method of investigation or another to illegitimately put its imprint upon the subject matter in the early stages of an investigation. In ordinary experiences of musical subtleties, we hear the effects of musicians’ minute manipulations of pitch and timing rather than the manipulations themselves (musicians perform such variations, in fact, for the purpose of our hearing such effects). For example, a singer may sing a certain note slightly high; we hear the effect of that variation, a “brightened” harmony (say), rather than hearing the degree to which the note is raised. In ordinary experiences of musical subtleties, we hear the effects of musicians’ minute manipulations of pitch and timing rather than the manipulations themselves (musicians perform such variations, in fact, for the purpose of our hearing such effects). For example, a singer may sing a certain note slightly high; we hear the effect of that variation, a “brightened” harmony (say), rather than hearing the degree to which the note is raised. A jazz, rock, or hip-hop drummer may strike certain notes in each measure slightly late; we hear the effect of these manipulations, a groove (the "feel" of a rhythm), rather than hearing the precise degree to which the notes are late. Of course, with practice, one can hear (detect) these slight variations themselves, but this is not a typical way to listen.
In investigating musical subtleties, many psychologists, music theorists, and philosophers focus on the slight variations themselves, often upon our abilities to detect or to discriminate between them. In contrast to this, in order to offer an account of the musical subtleties we typically hear, the effects of slight variations, I draw upon Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s insights into subtle visual perceptions, such as his use of the figure-ground structure of perception and his notion of perceptual indeterminacy. I aim to avoid an account of musical subtleties that is too coarse-grained (which would emerge from an approach suggested by Daniel Dennett), as well as to avoid the bleak conclusion that certain musical subtleties are ineffable (Diana Raffman's conclusion); Dennett’s and Raffman’s views ultimately result from focusing upon the variations themselves rather than their effects. Although these terms and relations must be clarified below, I will claim that elements of music indeterminately perceived perform a positive function insofar as they mediate emergent qualities; they only do this as indeterminate, i.e., when they are preserved as ambiguous in perception.
2. Daniel Dennett’s E-string
Daniel Dennett has suggested that some perceptions which, at first, seem ineffable turn out not to be once they are analyzed effectively. In his "Quining Qualia,"[1] he considers the sound of a guitar’s low, open E-string, through a three-step thought experiment. He begins by asking us to imagine simply plucking the string. The sound seems rich, ineffable and unanalyzable. His method, reasonably enough, is to attempt to break-up the sound into parts. Thus, next, we are asked to play the string’s harmonic (by placing a finger lightly on the twelfth fret while plucking). Upon hearing this harmonic, “Suddenly a new sound is heard: 'purer' somehow and of course an octave higher.”[2] According to Dennett, we have now isolated one of the original sound’s seemingly ineffable characteristics, the harmonic overtones. Finally, Dennett
believes that when we listen to the open E again, after hearing the harmonic, we will be able to clearly perceive the overtones of the sound, which will render the composite sound that much less ineffable: "On a third open plucking one can hear, with surprising distinctness, the harmonic overtone that was isolated in the second plucking. The homogeneity and ineffability of the first experience is gone, replaced by a duality as 'directly apprehensible' and clearly describable as that of any chord." [3]
The analysis Dennett leads us through is misleading: rather than simply clarifying the original perception, his instructions lead us to a different perception. Dennett himself describes the third perception as being different (in the third perception the overtones are more distinct). He does not seem to realize that in the different steps of his experiment we are listening to the E-string in different ways—and when we do, a change in the structure of the perception occurs. Invoking the early Gestalt psychologists, in his Phenomenology of Perception,[4] Merleau-Ponty maintains that in order to correctly describe perceptions we must describe them in terms of the figure-ground structure (the figure consists of the area to which one attends; the ground consists of the other portions of the visual field): "a figure against a background is the most basic sensible given we can have. . . . The perceptual 'something' is always in the middle of some other thing" (PoP, p. 4).
Merleau-Ponty explores the relationship between perceptual attention and perceptual structure by considering a Necker Cube (figure 1). Regarding the labeled cube, he writes, "When I focus upon the face ABCD of the cube, this does not mean simply that I make it enter into a state of being clearly seen, but also that I make it count as a figure, and as closer to me than the other face; in short, I organize the cube" (PoP, p. 275).
Focusing upon different parts of the cube changes the structure of the perception. Failing to describe that structure accurately leads to a misdescription of the perception. These structural changes also affect other aspects of a perception: in this case, what we take to be the figure determines whether we see the cube as from below or above. We wouldn't say that these different perceptions of the cube are the same.
Returning to Dennett, he believes that the third perception of the E-string is similar enough to the first perception that the third is simply a clarification the first; this is his mistake. He doesn't seem to realize that focusing upon different features of the stimulus changes the structure of what we perceive. In the first hearing of the E-string, the overtones were not the focus of attention (this is the typical perception, in the sense mentioned in my introduction); however, hot on the heels of the isolated perception of the harmonic (the second hearing), in the third hearing, the overtones are the focus, they are the figure. Thus, Dennett's analysis does not merely clarify the first perception; rather, the analysis results in a different perception; it generates a different perceptual structure in which the overtones become the figure. He does not render
the first perception effable. The third perception can be described as clearer than the first but that is not all that distinguishes it from the first.
The important point for our purposes is that the perceptions are different, and this difference can be fruitfully characterized in terms of different ways of perceiving the E-string sound, a different perceptual structure. What Dennett takes himself to be doing is clarifying an aspect of the experience (the overtones), which have been there all along. And he assumes that there is no difference between an experience in which the overtones remain unnoticed and the experience in which they are noticed. We will see that when more specifiable effects of such subtleties are involved, in actual music, this seemingly minor difference between experiences becomes crucial.
3. Subtleties of pitch and duration
An instrumentalist or vocalist may perform certain notes that are slightly high or slightly low; two such notes may be accurately categorized as A-sharps while one is slightly higher than the other (but not high enough to be categorized in terms of the next highest pitch concept). Regarding duration, a drummer, vocalist, or pianist, may perform slightly early or late notes. Like the pitch examples, this earliness or lateness is not characterizable by means of music-theoretic concepts, such as eighth note, sixteenth note, or dotted sixteenth note. Two notes exhibiting a timing subtlety may be accurately categorized as eighth notes while one is performed slightly later. Diana Raffman calls these subtleties "musical nuances"; psychologists and music theorists prefer "expressive variations."
Importantly, philosophers, psychologists, and music theorists who examine these musical subtleties typically do so by characterizing them in the figure role (this is not to take the typical musical experience to be the target of investigation). We can see that this is the case by recalling that focusing upon a pitch or duration places it in the figure role; it is common in the relevant articles on music perception to find subjects being asked to attend to pitches or durations in order to report on which variations they are able to detect, or to discriminate between. For example, in Eric F. Clarke's "The Perception of Expressive Timing in Music," he writes, "The experiments reported in this paper are an attempt to investigate the ability of listeners to detect small-scale timing changes, similar to those in expressive performance, in various kinds of musical sequence." Raffman adopts this orientation by following such research:
In hearing these nuances, we are hearing differences within—that is, more fine-grained than—the C-pitch [chromatic pitch] and C-interval (chromatic interval) categories. Each C-pitch category subsumes many discriminably different pitches, just as each "determinable" color category subsumes many different "determinate" shades; there are many A-naturals and many B-flats, just as there are many reds and many blues. Under laboratory conditions of minimal uncertainty, the human ear can discriminate anywhere from 20 to 300 pitches to
Raffman uses pitch terms with subscripts to denote specific pitches; this also indicates that she is characterizing variations as occupying the figure role: a slightly high F-sharp is an "F-sharp(2)," "F-sharp(4)," and so on. She claims that such terms accurately characterize these subtleties; the terms "serve perfectly well for enunciating the [representational] content in question." Construing nuances in the figure role sets the stage for her resulting observation that nuances are ineffable. Once these subtleties are conceived as in the figure role, this leads to the observation that our capacities of discrimination outstrip our capacities of conceptualization. Just as we can discriminate or detect many more color shades than we can conceptualize, so too, we can discriminate many more pitches than we can conceptualize. According to Raffman, fine-grained pitches are ineffable insofar as we cannot conceptualize them.
4. Pitch and duration subtleties in the figure-ground structure
So far, we have seen that Dennett believes that our subtle perceptions can be clarified conceptually, so they are perfectly effable; we've considered the mistakes in his approach. Raffman believes that discrimination outstrips conceptualization, and this leads to ineffability. And as I have indicated, like Dennett, Raffman does not take the import of the figure-ground structure into consideration. The question to consider now is this: what is the figure and what is the ground in a perception of a slightly high pitch? In order to take the next step, I want to very briefly consider my criticism of Raffman, from my "Musical Musical Nuance."
In that essay, I criticize Raffman by highlighting her descriptions of perceptions of musical nuances. Although I don't put it this way in that essay, perceptions of nuances in the figure role are her explananda. Without appealing to the starting point common in phenomenology (describing the phenomena under consideration as they show up in ordinary experience), I argue in that essay that the target of an investigation into these musical subtleties should not be the slightly high pitches themselves but rather certain effects of those pitches. And I am not referring to the effects standardly mentioned by Raffman, music theorists, and psychologists writing on such subtleties, namely, that a performer employs a pitch nuance in order to lead a listener to hear the musical structure as he, the performer, hears it. Rather, I am referring to nonstructural effects. In that essay, I consider a quotation uncharacteristic of Raffman's book in which she mentions a nonstructural effect—the "brightening" of an interval (she subsequently downplays this and other nonstructural effects):
Many fine-grained differences in interval width—indeed the most interesting and important ones, for our purposes—are fully intended expressive features, as when a flutist ever so slightly raises ("sharpens") an F-sharp sustained over a D-natural across a modulation from b minor to D major. . . . The flutist's objective is to widen ("brighten") the major third between D-natural
and F-sharp, thereby emphasizing and strengthening the new key of D major.[12]
I suggest in that essay that one reason to prioritize nonstructural effects is that they constitute one set of reasons that musicians perform slight variations to begin with. A musician strives to perform a slightly high A-natural (say) because it has an effect in the music, and one kind of effect is nonstructural, such as a "brightening." I go on to develop one piece of the puzzle for rendering such effects effable: we can employ indirect description, metaphor, and comparisons to characterize such effects. [13]
Now, the figure-ground structure is useful in clarifying subtleties of pitch and timing because it enables us to further clarify these subtleties, which, importantly, further preempts the ineffability conclusion. In order to begin to see why, it will be instructive to consider Raffman's example in terms of Dennett's three-step analysis. In an initial, typical perception, the figure is the "brightening" (analogous to the initial, vague E-string sound); the slightly high pitch is in the background (analogous to the E-string's overtones). In the second perception, we need a way to imagine focusing our attention toward the slightly high pitch (recall that Dennett accomplished this by plucking the harmonic). Imagine that we are at a rehearsal, and could isolate the flute by simply walking toward the flutist. Upon clearly hearing the flute's slightly high F-sharp, that pitch becomes the figure. We are hearing the pitch as slightly high, so let's follow Raffman and name it, call it an "F-sharp(3)." In the third perception, we return to our original position in space, and hear the music altogether. However, having been highlighted, the high F-sharp is still the figure. Clearly, this is a different structure from the first perception; it is a different perception; it sounds different.
Here is the question I have been working up to: how should these initial perceptions be described? Is there a way to describe the slightly raised F-sharp while it is in the background, in the first, typical hearing? If it is correct that musicians often perform such subtleties for the very purpose of generating effects such as a "brightening," then it stands to reason that a salient kind of musical perception would be structured so as to hear the "brightening" as the figure. If the F-sharp is in the background in that sort of perception, then in order to get clearer about such musical subtleties, we had better find a way of describing it.
5. Merleau-Ponty on perceptual indeterminacy
I want to work up to offering a characterization of the background features as perceptually indeterminate, in Merleau-Ponty's sense. We should begin by noting that, along with Edmund Husserl, Merleau-Ponty maintains that when I see a house (say) I see it as a three-dimensional object, even though my perception is perspectival. However, whereas Husserl holds that I hypothesize the parts of the house that I do not see, such as the back of the house, Merleau-Ponty maintains that I actually experience the sides of the house that are not determinately presented to me in perception. Here, I am following Sean D. Kelly's account of the distinction between these philosophers on this notion of "object
transcendence."[14] Kelly writes, "Merleau-Ponty ... thinks that my current visual experience contains something that is itself an indeterminate presentation of the back [-side of the house]."[15] In Merleau-Ponty's words, "The region surrounding the visual field is not easy to describe, but what is certain is that it is neither black nor grey. There occurs here an indeterminate vision, a vision of I do not know what, and, to take the extreme case, what is behind my back is not without some element of visual presence" (PoP, p. 6).[16]
Merleau-Ponty's notion of indeterminacy does not have to do only with that which is hidden. In fact, as Kelly writes, "The canonical kind of indeterminate visual presence, for Merleau-Ponty, is the visual presence of the background against which a figure appears. The background, insofar as it is experienced as a background, is visually present to a subject even though it makes no determinate contribution to his experience."[17] Kelly argues that the indeterminacy of a background feature (say, the relative brightness of a light) consists in its normative effect; "the experience of the lighting context is essentially normative; I see how the lighting should change in order for me to see the color better."[18] I will not follow Kelly to this normative claim; rather, I focus on the positive effects of indeterminate features vis-à-vis related emergent perceptual qualities, and I will draw support directly from Merleau-Ponty's texts, beginning with this important claim: "We must recognize the indeterminate as a positive phenomenon. Quality appears within this atmosphere" (PoP, p. 7). Notice that while Dennett does not acknowledge the difference between the way features show up in the background versus how they show up as objects of attention, Merleau-Ponty is focused on just this distinction.
Consider what Merleau-Ponty says about the Müller-Lyer lines (figure 2). The horizontal lines are, of course, the same length, but they appear to be different lengths in the Müller-Lyer context. Merleau-Ponty claims that the horizontal lines are indeterminate in a normal perception of the illusion. Now, if we focus on each of the horizontal lines, so as to extract them from their context (ushering them into the figure role), then we can see that the two lines are actually equal in length; Merleau-Ponty takes this to be an unnatural way to view the illusion. If we perceive the illusion normally, by not scrutinizing the horizontal lines, the horizontal lines do not look equal. Interestingly, Merleau-Ponty says that they also do not look unequal. In addition to the ordinary distinction between looking equal and unequal, he is suggesting a third option. He says the lines look different. This third option will turn out to be perceptual indeterminacy.
Figure 2: Müller-Lyer lines
Describing the way these horizontal lines look in a typical perception of the illusion is to describe them neither as equal nor unequal. A perceived horizontal line in isolation (when it is the object of attention, the figure) possesses characteristics that a perceived line in this context does not (that is, with the addition of auxiliary lines, when it is not in the figure role). Therefore, in describing such an indeterminate perceptual
feature, we will be mistaken if we characterize it as having the kind of determinate specificity that can ground qualities such as sameness or difference in length. If we take determinate length to be a characteristic of these lines in this context (even determinate unequal length), we mischaracterize them. This is what Merleau-Ponty is getting at when he writes, "The lines in Müller-Lyer's illusion cease to be equal without thereby becoming 'unequal'—they become 'different'" (PoP, p. 11).
With regard to length, then, the Müller-Lyer lines are perceived as ambiguous. What I want to emphasize is that this perceptual ambiguity is a perceptual-interpretive resting place; the ambiguity is preserved. By allowing the lines to remain ambiguous in perception, the illusion is generated. Contributing to, or fostering, the illusion is the positive influence of the indeterminate features that Merleau-Ponty is referring to. We ought to allow such indeterminate features to have this positive influence without seeking to render them determinate. Such indeterminate features are not ambiguities to be clarified; indeed, if our goal is to correctly describe such an experience, we must not give a description of these features as clarified. We must not clarify indeterminate features because this would mischaracterize their role in the experience.
What I have been driving at is that the examples of musical subtleties I have mentioned are analogous to the Müller-Lyer lines: the overtones in Dennett's first perception of the E-string are fruitfully described as indeterminate in Merleau-Ponty's sense. They made a positive contribution to the E-string sound, and they made this contribution as ambiguous. In an ordinary perception of the E-string their ambiguity is preserved. Dennett treats this ambiguity as a kind of summoning (in Plato's sense [19]); Dennett sought to clarify the overtones, and as we have seen, the overtones became the figure; they became determinate in subsequent perceptions.
Dennett's approach covers over a distinction between perceptions that becomes crucial in aesthetic experience. To see why, consider the example of the "brightening" that is brought on by the slightly raised F-sharp. I want to suggest that the F-sharp is perceptually indeterminate in an ordinary perception of this subtlety. Mull over this question: when one focuses upon the flute's raised F-sharp (noting that it is slightly high)—in that precise moment—does the quality of "brightening" emerge in experience? If this example is sufficiently analogous to the Müller-Lyer lines, then the "brightening" will not arise unless the F-sharp is perceived as indeterminate, preserved as ambiguous; one cannot hear the F-sharp as an "F-sharp(5)" (say) and hear the "brightening" at the same exact moment.[20]
My claim does not rely upon an analogy to the Müller-Lyer illusion alone; Merleau-Ponty makes this point more generally: some elements of a perception perform a function as indeterminate background features that they would not perform were they to be perceived as the figure, determinately. Consider another example raised by Merleau-Ponty that concerns the perceptual effect of the reflection on
human eyes. (Merleau-Ponty is ultimately making a point about perceiving actual human eyes, but he makes the point by referring to techniques of painting.)
It took centuries of painting before the reflections upon the eye were seen, without which the painting remains lifeless and blind, as in the paintings by primitive peoples. The reflection is not seen for itself, since it was able to go unnoticed for so long, and yet it has its function in perception, since its mere absence is enough to remove the life and the expression from objects and from faces. (PoP, p. 322)
The perceptual effect of the reflection on the eye is to give the face life and expression. What Merleau-Ponty says next is based upon the idea that there are different ways of perceiving this reflection. "The reflection is only seen out of the corner of the eye. It is not presented as an aim of our perception; it is the auxiliary or the mediator of our perception. It is not itself seen, but makes the rest be seen" (PoP, pp. 322-323). The idea is that we can perceive an eye-reflection either as a figure (an object of attention: "an aim of our perception") or as in the background ("out of the corner of the eye"). The reflection makes an important contribution to our perception of life and expression in a face; namely, it mediates that perception; seeing an eye-reflection indeterminately fosters our perception of the life and expression in a face.
Importantly, the reflection—as well as other background features such as lighting—would not have the effects they do were they not perceived indeterminately: "Lighting and reflection only play their role if they fade into the background as discreet intermediaries, and if they direct our gaze rather than arresting it" (PoP, 323, emphasis in original).
6. Subtleties of duration: groove
Consider another musical example, a musical subtlety of duration. Ringo Starr's manner of playing various rhythmic patterns in early Beatles' recordings, such as "All My Lovin'," makes the rhythms "feel" as though they "lean" forward or "push." This forward-leaning quality of his performances is one kind of groove (which, generally speaking, is the "feel" of a rhythm). In contrast, the grooves of Led Zeppelin's John Bonham tend to "lean backward"; for example, the groove on "Blackdog" is backward-leaning. The way these drum performances sound—the "feel" around which the other musical elements coalesce—is not merely a matter of the rhythmic patterns. Of the elements that contribute to Ringo's grooves, timing nuances are the most crucial; Ringo strikes certain notes slightly early; similarly, by striking certain notes slightly late, John Bonham makes the rhythm "feel" as though it is leaning backward. Leaving these particular examples behind, consider a particular kind of rhythmic pattern, a swing.
The ride cymbal element of a swing rhythm is shown in figure 3. In performing a swing so that it feels as though it leans backward, a drummer strikes certain eighth notes late; the notes that are struck late are represented in figure 4 with arrows. This backward-leaning groove is extremely common in jazz; for example, in the Count Basie Band's drummer Sonny Payne's performance on "Fly Me to the Moon (in Other
Now, consider the perception in which the backward-leaning quality of the groove is the figure; this is an ordinary experience. Drummers play these notes slightly late primarily so that other musicians and listeners experience this rhythmic "feel," not primarily so that other musicians and listeners notice that this strike is slightly later than the ordinary eighth note, and so on. On the grounds outlined above in relation to pitch, I want to suggest that the slightly late eighth notes that generate the backward-leaning groove are not perceived determinately in that experience. In an ordinary perception, they do not show up in a way such that they could accurately be described as "eighth note(-3)" or "eighth note(-5)." Rather, their specific duration is not perceived. In the moment during which one focuses upon the late eighth notes, when they become the figure, in that precise moment, the backward-leaning quality drops out of the experience. This claim rests not only upon an analogy to Merleau-Ponty's account of the Müller-Lyer lines but also his description and general claims about the perception of background features discussed above, such as reflections, lighting, and so on.
It may help to consider a visual analog. In his *Cézanne: A Study of His Development*, Roger Fry discusses one of Paul Cézanne's portraits of his wife, "Madame Cézanne in a Red Dress" (1888-1890). Fry mentions three aspects of the painting. First, the portrait is boldly symmetrical; the model is facing forward, nearly centered, her arms are at her sides, the chair is rigidly rectangular, and so on. But second, Fry emphasizes that, in spite of the straightforward, symmetrical design, the painting possesses a certain "vitality . . . the palpitation of life." I believe that such a vital quality, an emergent Gestalt quality, is analogous to a musical groove. Third, Fry seems to understand this vitality as being due to the slight variations of various elements of the painting.
Cézanne has instinctively corrected this [plain symmetry of design] in his detailed treatment. Everywhere this symmetry is modified by deformations: the body leans slightly to one side, and the perpendicular of the dado behind becomes drawn into the movement . . . . The strongly marked edge of the dado seen in perspective affords by its emphasis the counterpoise to these uniform movements. Finally, as though not to break anywhere this general play of slight variations, this dado does not even keep a continuous line, but appears as though refracted where it passes behind the chair.
Fry notes that the out of kilter dado was no mistake. Indeed, two additional portraits of Cézanne's wife, which Fry does not mention, also include an out of kilter dado / baseboard:
"Madame Cézanne in a Yellow Chair" (1888-1890) and "Madame Cézanne with Green Hat" (1891-1892). In all three of these paintings, an edge of the room's dado / baseboard passes behind the chair but is out of kilter; the edge that we see emerging from one side of the chair does not line up with the edge emerging from the other side. I want to suggest that the out of kilter edges are analogous to the early or late eighth notes of a groove. "Madame Cézanne with Green Hat" possesses not only a vital quality but also a quality of movement. I am suggesting that, in all three of these paintings, the out of kilter edges mediate or foster emergent qualities of vitality or movement.
The relevant question for us to ask is whether, in the precise moments during which one scrutinizes the out of kilter elements, one perceives the quality of movement or vitality. By analogy to the examples above, such as the reflections in eyes, my claim is that we do not perceive the movement or vitality; we only experience these emergent qualities in the moments in which we allow the out of kilter elements to remain in the background as indeterminate elements, preserving their ambiguity in perception so that they can function to mediate the emergence of the quality of movement or vitality. Characterizing such elements as indeterminate in Merleau-Ponty's sense is an effective way of describing them while they are in the perceptual background. This conclusion can also serve as a practical suggestion regarding active aesthetic experience: one effective way to attempt to perceive emergent qualities such as a groove, a harmonic brightening, or a visual quality of vitality or movement, is to allow the background, contributing elements to remain ambiguous in perception.
7. Conclusion
I have claimed that describing perceptual experiences of musical subtleties by characterizing all of the relevant elements as they show up when they are objects of attention (as occupying the figure role) leads to inaccurate descriptions. The background features of some musical subtleties—for example, a slightly high F-sharp, late eighth notes, or an E-String's overtones—are typically not determinately perceived. Support for these claims is drawn from my criticism of Dennett's analysis, claims about what is typical in musical experiences, as well as analogies to claims Merleau-Ponty makes about certain visual experiences. I have claimed that a promising option is to characterize background features as indeterminate in Merleau-Ponty's sense; such features perform a positive function, according to Merleau-Ponty, insofar as they mediate emergent qualities; I suggest that grooves, brightened harmonies, and so on, are examples of such emergent qualities. Performing this positive function requires that these features be preserved as ambiguous in perception.
Support for this last claim rests on Merleau-Ponty's claims about the Müller-Lyer lines as well as background features such as lighting and reflection.
A benefit of adopting my suggestions is that we can avoid descriptions of musical subtleties that are too coarse-grained, which fail to capture differences among perceptions (like Dennett's), while also avoiding the conclusion that such
subtleties are ineffable (Raffman's claim). Regarding the latter, first, as I suggested in "Musical Musical Nuance," we can render subtleties effable by (1) describing nonstructural effects of slight variations of pitch or duration (such as a "brightened" chord) via metaphor and comparison. And as I have argued above, we can make further progress by (2) describing the perceptions in terms of the figure-ground structure, where the effects occupy the figure role, and slightly high pitches (etc.) are a part of the background; and (3) by clarifying how the background features show up and function in experience in terms of Merleau-Ponty's understanding of perceptual indeterminacy and their mediating function.\[28\]
Tiger C. Roholt
tiger.roholt@montclair.edu
Tiger Roholt is Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Montclair State University. His research focuses on philosophy of art, philosophy of music, and phenomenology. He is currently writing, *Groove: A Phenomenology of Rhythmic Nuance* (Bloomsbury).
Published on June 3, 2013.
Endnotes
[2] Ibid., pp. 243-244.
[3] Ibid., p. 244.
[8] Ibid., p. 140.
[9] "Do not misunderstand: certainly we could coin (type-identify) names for the N-pitches-names like, say, 'A-natural(1)', 'A-natural(12)', 'B-flat(10)', and so forth—just as we could coin names for all the determinate shades we can see. But for want of the requisite schemas in long-term
memory, we would not be able to apply those names 'by ear'. In this respect the nuances are known ineffably as, as I shall say, nuance ineffable" (Ibid., p. 88). For more on Raffman's ineffability claim, see my, "Musical Musical Nuance," The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 68 (2010), 1-10.
[10] In her book, Raffman criticizes Dennett on other grounds: for not acknowledging that we can discriminate more finely than we can conceptualize.
[13] By comparisons, I mean that we can point out, for example, that this "brightening" is brighter than the "brightening" on that recording.
[16] Kelly draws upon a portion of this quotation; I am adopting Kelly's adjustment to the translation; see pp. 80-81 of his "Seeing Things in Merleau-Ponty." The visual field includes objects of attention as well as the background; Merleau-Ponty's conception of the perceptual background is obviously quite broad.
[17] Ibid., p. 82, emphasis in original.
[18] Loc. cit., emphasis in original.
[19] For Plato, ambiguous perceptions are "summoners;" that is, unclear perceptions, he writes, "summon the understanding to look into them" (Plato, Republic, trans. G. M. A. Grube and C. D. C. Reeve [Hackett, 1992], 523a); they are unclear perceptions of what Plato would call sensible particulars, which draw us toward knowledge of the Forms. From this perspective, these properties are seen negatively, merely as calling out to be clarified.
[20] Eric F. Clarke seems to recognize something like this while not noticing the implications for his project: "Auditory events, or more specifically musical events, are inherently multi-dimensional, and. . .although they may be theoretically, and even empirically, decomposable into unitary components, this may destroy or conceal emergent properties of the whole event" (Clarke, “The Perception of Expressive Timing in Music,” p. 3, emphasis added).
www.metmuseum.org/Collections/search-the-collections/110000309 (accessed 27 April 2013)
[25] Ibid., p. 68.
www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/62371 (accessed 27 April 2013)
[28] I would like to thank those who made helpful suggestions following presentations of earlier versions of this paper—especially at the 2012 meeting of the Royal Musical Association Music and Philosophy Study Group (London, Kings College) and at the Bucknell University Philosophy Colloquium (2012). For thought-provoking discussions about these issues, I want to thank Hanne Appelqvist, Chris Bartel, David Clowney, Lydia Goehr, Ted Gracyk, Sean Kelly, Jerrold Levinson, Margaret Moore, Jonathan Neufeld, and Jill Rosenberg. |
SELECTING FINGERING FOR PERFORMING MOZART’S PIANO MUSIC
By
©2016
CONGCONG CHAI
Submitted to the graduate degree program in School of Music and the Graduate Faculty of the University of Kansas in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Musical Arts.
________________________
Chairperson: Jack Winerock
________________________
Scott McBride Smith
________________________
Steven Spooner
________________________
Scott B Murphy
________________________
Alfred Tat-Kei Ho
Date Defended: 08/23/2016
The Dissertation Committee for Congcong Chai
certifies that this is the approved version of the following dissertation:
SELECTING FINGERING FOR PERFORMING MOZART’S PIANO MUSIC
Chairperson: Jack Winerock
Date approved: 08/23/2016
The purpose of finger selection for composers and musicians has changed since the 18th century due to many factors. In order to understand how fingering selection can serve a composer’s musical intention, this paper concentrates on the study of historical treatises and performance practice, the development of the aesthetic of music, the development of the keyboard instrument, and the anatomy of the hand. In the second half of this paper, I experiment with various fingering ideas in Mozart’s Fantasy in D minor, K. 397 and Piano Sonata in B flat major, K. 333. The result of this experimentation led to the discovery that once pianists liberate their minds to accept new fingering options, they will broaden their musical abilities, both physically and intellectually. However, the fingering study needs further research on more musical examples from the 18th and 19th century.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 Introduction........................................................................................................... 1
Chapter 2 Precondition – background knowledge about Music in 18th century .............. 2
General 18th century articulation..........................................................................................4
Edition..................................................................................................................................5
Historical performance practice ..........................................................................................6
Back to the musical taste in 18th century ...........................................................................9
Chapter 3 Fingering..............................................................................................................11
Reason and significance to study fingering .........................................................................11
Mechanical relationship between five fingers .................................................................12
Characters of each finger ..................................................................................................13
Original fingering markings from composer ....................................................................13
Fingerings from editor .......................................................................................................14
Basic fingering rules ...........................................................................................................15
Historical fingering rules ...................................................................................................16
Aesthetic difference of fingering between the past and in the modern time ......................19
Chapter 4 Selecting fingerings on Mozart’s Fantasy in D minor ......................................20
Chapter 5 Selecting fingerings on Mozart’s Piano Sonata in B flat major K. 333 ..........27
Chapter 6 Conclusion...........................................................................................................36
Bibliography........................................................................................................................38
Chapter 1 Introduction
The original inspiration for this paper was Malcom Bilson’s DVD, “Knowing the Score.” While watching the DVD, I realized there are many important musical elements beyond the notes. Historical treatises as well as harpsichord and fortepiano fingering instructions aroused my interest. Why does the modern pianist no longer play scales with only the second, third, and fourth finger? Did the development of the modern piano change the way we perform 18th-century music? Would 18th-century fingering help us to get closer to Mozart’s original musical intention?
While writing this paper, I noticed my fingering selection matched the fingering rules of C. P. E Bach, Beethoven, and Chopin. They believed fingering decisions should be based on musical intentions and musical elements such as slurs, accents, dynamics, articulation, and harmony. Through studying the writings of late18th- and early 19th-century musicians, I have discovered useful fingering suggestions. I have applied these ideas to two piano pieces by Mozart: Fantasy in D minor and Piano Sonata in B flat major, K. 333.
In order to be able to select a better fingering, I believe it would be necessary to study the musical aesthetics of the 18th century. This would include the development of keyboard instrument, performance practice of the time, and individual composers’ preferences.
The musical intention which is argued in this paper is for an approach to Mozart's music that believes that considering all the elements of the treatises will lead to a satisfying understanding and performance of Mozart's music. I recognize that each musician will come up with his/her own answer. In the long run this will lead to a more variety of solutions for all of us to share and learn from.
This paper will argue that studying the performance practice at the time as suggested in contemporary treatises will help us to a better understanding of a composer like Mozart’s
musical ideas. Although each musician will come up with his/her own solution, a process that emphasizes performance practice will lead both to a more rooted performance as we as variety of solutions for all of us to share and learn from.
This paper discusses finger selection based on musical intention and interpretation. The study will not discuss fingerings for sight-reading or for purpose of memorization. Research has indicated that when pianists sight-read music, they use fingering that is automatic and not the result of study and analysis.
This paper will mainly focus on Mozart’s piano music, as well as drawing on the ideas of composers in the 18th century for additional insight. Not only for the full variety of articulation and fast changing expression in his music, but also the relatively simpler compositional technique which allows pianists to liberate their mind when choosing fingerings.
This project will discuss fingering under the circumstance that fingers are not isolated. As Seymour Fink said, “Fingers are not isolated units, but rather, integrally connected parts of a larger playing mechanism that begins at least as far back as the shoulder girdle.”¹ Fingering can only be discussed when all the joints from fingertip to at least the shoulder are all connected organically. The palm, wrist, elbow and even the shoulder will naturally follow the movements fingers provide.
Chapter 2 Precondition – background knowledge about Music in 18th century
In the 18th century, music was understood as a reflection as a human language. This is in contrast to music in the Romantic period which emphasized long line and singing quality.
Whether writing IN Sturm and Drang, *empfindsamkeit*, or Galant style, 18th century musicians paid more attention to shorter phrases, articulations, accents, note relationships under a slur, length of a note with a staccato or dash, etc. They were interested on imitating other instruments’ sound on a keyboard. This trend influenced 18th century piano makers who aimed to build compound instruments with various types of music stops. Thus, composers developed the musical language within the framework of the possibilities a fortepiano or harpsichord of the period could provide, but they created music beyond the limitation of the period instruments.
Mozart never imagined his music would be performed in a modern concert hall for thousands of people. He wrote for the pianoforte assuming the performance would be in a relatively small space. The fortepianos he used and favored included Walter, Stein, and Spath. These instruments could create a clearer texture; for example, playing alberti bass on a modern piano should be voiced carefully and softer in order to avoid covering the melody. This would not be a concern on fortepiano. Another advantage that belongs to the fortepiano is the tone, which cannot last long. The short lasting tone necessitated 18th century pianists to develop finger pedal technique to produce better legato. This technique was useful in assuring legato in accompanimental passages and highlighting dissonances in appogiaturas, as well as showing harmony and providing resonance where the performer thought appropriate. Another important difference between fortepiano and modern instrument is the gradations of tone qualities in the fortepiano’s different registers.
Generally speaking, Mozart’s fortepiano had a thinner soundboard, lighter stringing, light hammers, and light dampers. The black keys are shorter, spans between the keys are narrower, the distance from surface of a key to the key bed is also shorter, and the escapement system is less complex so it demands less finger energy than a modern piano does. The tone is bright, thin,
and delicate with more resonance. The treble is more percussive, and the bass is less blurred compared to the modern Steinway.
**General 18th century articulation**
Johann Joachim Quantz, in his *On Playing the Flute*, explained his understanding of the meaning of 18th century articulations:
“Flattery, melancholy, and tenderness are expressed by slurred and close intervals, gaiety and boldness by brief articulated notes, or those forming distant leaps, as well as by figures in which dots appear regularly after the second note. Dotted and sustained notes express the serious and the pathetic; … The passions may be perceived from the dissonances. These are not all the same; they always produce a variety of different effects…”
Quantz’s explanation is considerably artistic and imaginative. On the other hand, modern pianist Paul Badura-Skoda described 18th century articulations in a more practical way. He particularly argued with other pianists who play Mozart’s music with almost everything legato. He said “Mozart’s music, as other 18th century music, is derived from speech.”
Badura-Skoda generally divided Mozart’s articulations into six categories: slur, portato, staccato, accent, rests and absence of signs.
For slurs, he suggested a delayed releasing finger technique to enhance the legato. With this overlapping touch, the hammering effect from moving to another note would be covered by the previous note, which is still slightly sustained on the keyboard. He distinguished the
---
differences between portato and staccato, as well as strokes and dots. He believed it is extremely important to hold notes in various required lengths in order to express the musical spirit. He stated that it was common in the 18th century, when a note is non-legato or detached, the articulation signs are absent. An exception was when it functioned as an instruction to continue the previous articulation. Finally, he mentioned rests, as an articulation as well, are to call for change of breath.
There will be more discussions of articulations when talking about 18th century performance practice later in this paper.
Edition
There is no agreement among performers and scholars regarding the best edition to use for Mozart’s piano works. I like the Neue Mozart Ausgabe published Barenreiter-Verlag, right after the World War II. It aimed to achieve as close as possible to Mozart’s original intentions, by gathering the best-known scholars working on this huge project. However, this edition was completed while a large amount of Mozart’s manuscripts were still missing. This inevitably caused the inaccuracies to reach Mozart’s music text and intention. Published after Neue Mozart Ausgabe, the two Henle and Wiener Urtext editions were able to take advantage of the reappearance of those missing manuscripts which were found in University Jagellonian Library of Krakow, Poland. The Wiener Urtext edition is especially interesting because it includes extensive fingering suggestions. Rather than using this edition at the start of studying one of Mozart’s Sonatas, I prefer to select fingering myself based on my study of the sources as I understand them and apply it to the music. I suggest the pianist make an initial decision and then consult other editions with fingering suggestions.
In this paper, all the Mozart’s musical examples are based on the *Neue Mozart Ausgabe*.
**Historical performance practice**
In order to understand the 18th century performance practices, I studied writings by C.P.E. Bach, Marpurg, Turk, Czerny, Clementi, Leopold Mozart and Hummel. Although these composers are somewhat contemporary, they have some different opinions as to the best way to play keyboard instruments and we must always keep in mind the differences between harpsichord, clavichord, fortepiano, and all the interesting experiments that try to combine characteristics of one with another. For example, the book from C. P. E. Bach discusses keyboard performance practice in a more general way, while Marpurg seems to focus mainly on harpsichord. Even though both Clementi and Hummel played fortepiano, their ideas of performance practice may vary contradict because their approach of playing fortepiano were very different. This chapter will briefly describe the general common performance practices on which they agree, as well as ideas on which they have different opinions.
Almost all of them agree that notes under a slur should be played legato. The first note under a slur should be slightly emphasized, but not accented. The last note under a slur should be relatively shorter and lighter. Turk, in his *Klavierschule*, says “The end of a phrase is rendered more noticeable by gently lifting the finger from the key and by touching the first note of the following phrase with rather more strength.”4 C.P.E.Bach agrees on playing legato for slurs. He adds that “In figures of two or four such notes the first and third are emphasized slightly more than the second and fourth, but in such a way that it is scarcely noticeable.”5 Turk also
---
mentioned that this scarcely noticeable emphasis that it should be “less forceful” and “be sensed rather than heard”.6 Interestingly, Leopold Mozart prefers a stressed first note under a slur and states the remainder should be played “smoothly and more and more quietly”.7
Most of the 18th century musicians who I consulted felt that the finger should be lifted before the next is played.8 However, they cannot make an agreement of precisely when to lift the finger.9 C.P.E. Bach wrote in his book: “Notes which are neither staccato nor legato nor sostenuto are held for half their value unless the word Ten. is placed above them, in which case they have to be sustained.”10 However, most of the other scholars believe staccato should be held for the half value, but not for ordinary touch. Marpurg says “In contrast to legato and staccato there is the ordinary manner of playing in which the finger is lifted from the key just before the following note is played. This ordinary manner of playing, since it is always taken for granted, is never marked.”11 Obviously Marpurg expects to hold the ordinary touch much longer than C.P.E. Bach. Turk supports Marpurg’s opinion that “the finger should be lifted shortly before the written value of the note requires it. Where single notes are supposed to be held for their full value they have to be marked ten. or tenuto.”12 However, Czerny, writing in the early 19th century, holds a completely different opinion that he believes the ordinary manner is to play as legato as possible “When nothing is placed over the notes, and they are not separated by rests, they are, in compliance with a general rule, always to be played in a smoothly connected manner;
---
8 In general, the non-legato or detached touch is considered as the ordinary touch in the 18th century.
for the legato style is the rule, and the staccato the exception…”
It is understandable that Czerny combines ordinary touching and legato playing, since he was influenced partially by Beethoven, who preferred to play as close as possible to the keyboard and reduce changing the hand positions. Clementi, another musician, had a similar idea to Czerny that he wrote in his *Art of Playing the Piano Forte* that “The best general rule is to keep down the keys of the instrument the full length of every note….”
The treatises also discuss staccato dots, strokes, dotted rhythms. Again, even though most of them agree the staccato should be hold half value of the note, other opinions indicate that the staccato needs to be shorter than half value. Most believe that the dot and dash share the same meaning as staccato; there is a thought that dashes should be relatively shorter. Clementi states that dots are less pronounced staccatos, compared to dashes. In short, there is no one treatise that gives a perfect answer of historical performance practice; modern pianists need a comprehensive study while keeping an open mind. However, pianists should aware the two separate streams between C. P. E. Bach, Turk and Czerny, Clementi. This argument of the aesthetic of piano playing influenced later composers. Just as there are varying musical ideas between composers such as C. P. E Bach and J. C. Bach and their followers, so there are different stream and traditions deriving both from musical ideas as well as the various differences between those who prefer harpsichord, clavichord, or fortepiano.
An interesting thing would be worthwhile to illustrate is the finger pedal these treatises describe. Badura-Skoda generally indicates that the slurs over broken chords imply the notes
---
under the slurs should be held through to the end of the slur, disregarding the original note value.\textsuperscript{15} Turk says more specifically, that “Two notes may be kept down by the fingers in broken chords accompaniment.”
The last thing about performance practice I would like to share is from Hummel. He explains the notes with both staccatos and slurs should be gently detached by fingers, and each of them receive “\textit{a certain increasing degree of emphasis}”.\textsuperscript{16}
The historical references mentioned above should be helpful to pianists selecting fingering for the 18\textsuperscript{th} century keyboard music. The approach should be to find fingering that helps explaining the musical intention of the composer while avoiding fingering that a contrary to the performance practice instruction of the period.
\textbf{Back to the musical taste in 18\textsuperscript{th} century}
Mozart’s music has been described as “Great simplicity or simple greatness”.\textsuperscript{17} Though Beethoven told Czerny that Mozart played in a “clipped style”, Mozart himself states that legato playing should “flow like oil”.\textsuperscript{18} Quantz explains that: “each note must be sounded with its true intonation, as beautiful as possible, must be easy and flowing, light and shadow must be constantly maintained, must be expressive, must be able to judge the nature of the passion that each idea contains.”\textsuperscript{19}
\textsuperscript{15}Thurston Dart, \textit{The Interpretation of Music} (London: Hutchinson's University Library, 1963), 99.
\textsuperscript{16}Johann Nepomuk Hummel, \textit{A Complete Theoretical and Practical Course of Instructions on the Art of Playing the Piano Forte: Commencing with the Simplest Elementary Principles and including Every Information Requisite to the Most Finished Style of Performance} (London: T. Boosey, 1829), 66.
\textsuperscript{18}Ibid.
Many musicians feel the modern piano, compared to 18th century fortepiano, is too full for Mozart’s music. Considering the larger soundboard, heavier stringing, hammers and dampers, the pianist needs more energy to produce a sound on a modern piano. Another issue is that the modern piano produces a longer lasting sound than fortepiano. The uniform tone quality in all registers presents a great challenge to contemporary pianists playing piano music composed for fortepiano.
In order to produce “Mozart’s sound” on a modern piano, Paul Badura-Skoda seems to follow the 18th century treatises which suggested “pliable wrist follow the play of the fingers, quite free to take part, keep the whole body free of tension, relaxed, shoulders free of strain, relaxed neck muscles”.
He further states that “Without elasticity, one’s tone will not carry. An excessively hard touch gives the impression of a certain brutality, which is quite out of place in Mozart.”
He believes a “relaxed singing tone” is necessary, while non-legato tones could be produced by curved fingers with sparkling touch like little hammers. Badura-Skoda also mentions the resonance created by modern pianos and modern concert halls. He suggests pianists, when playing Mozart on modern piano, play non-legato for legato scales, especially in low register. For certain cases, depending on the acoustic of the hall, it would be necessary to play staccato for non-legato notes.
Suggestions from other scholars include “playing non-legato or finger staccato for quick semi-quaver running movements”, “it is better to concentrates on finger, wrist and forearm, rather than the whole arm and body, in order to simulate the harpsichord and fortepiano’s translucence”. One important opinion, which I agree with completely, warns modern pianists to
---
21 Ibid.
22 Ibid.
avoid the tendency to “soften up” the whole interpretation when playing music by Haydn, Clementi and Mozart. Both harpsichord and fortepiano have the internal strength and directness of attack which is hard to be represented, especially when playing soft on modern piano. 23
Chapter 3 Fingering
Reason and significance to study fingering
There are always many possible fingering options if we consider a note in isolation. Optimal fingering solutions are best achieved by looking at physical and musical context. The palm, wrist, forearm and elbow need to be particularly flowing and follow the movements directed by the fingers; one should also understand as much about the musical style, background, and interpretation as we have discussed in the previous chapter. Roskell, in his book, explains his idea that the most obvious or most simple fingering is not always the best for achieving a particular subtlety of phrasing or expression. 24 Most pianists are trained to find the fingering that will allow the easiest performance of a passage. Under this concept, the fingering is not necessarily focused at reaching the composer’s original intention. Some editions would rather remove the original fingering markings by the composer, because those fingerings don’t “make sense” on modern piano playing. Howard Schott says “What is important for the modern performer… is to recognize what the earlier types of fingering were intended to achieve and then produce the same effects with more modern fingerings.” 25
23 Peter Cooper, Style in Piano Playing (London: Calder, 1975), 32.
**Mechanical relationship between five fingers**
In order to find the fingering which achieves both comfortable playing as well as the composer’s musical intention, pianists must be aware of the physical structure from the fingers to the hands to the forearms and to the back.
The extensor tendon of fingers is located on the back of the hand and controls the extension and independence of the fingers. The extensor tendon originates from the elbow and passes through the wrist, where it divides into several main strands. The thumb, which has its own extensor tendinum, is obviously separated from the other fingers, and therefore is very independent. The fifth finger, although interconnected with the fourth finger, also has its own tendinum and thus is relatively independent. Besides, both the thumb and the fifth finger are at the end of the hand and therefore their strength can be compensated by forearm assisted by rotation. The second finger, has its independent strand of tendinum without interconnection to others. Hence, the second finger is independently extensible, and be named as “index”. The independence of finger three, four and five is limited by the juncturae tendinum. However, the third finger is relatively independent since it is in line with one of the main strands of the tendinum, and the fifth finger also has its independency as mentioned above. As a result, finger four is the finger whose independent extension is most limited by the juncturae tendinum. Although pianists have devoted numerous practice to increase the independence of the fourth finger, no one can completely conquer this physiological limitation.
---
Characteristics of each finger
Similar to the various colors and characteristics composers render on different keys, fingers could also be illustrated with their own characters. Generally pianists agree the thumb can produce a “French Horn” sound, while the fifth finger can present the sound penetrative, second finger, as called as index finger, is the most dexterous finger.
It would be interesting to share Chopin’s view here. He believes the index finger is the strongest, while the middle finger is both strong and fit cantabile playing. He thinks the thumb has horizontal agility and the lateral movement provides the thumb being able to replace other fingers in many cases. For the fourth finger, he uses the word “sensitive” to describe. Pianists should consider the physical characteristics of each of the five fingers when evaluating artistic demands.
Original fingering markings from composer
Some pianists may feel that the original fingering markings from the composer might not be suitable on the modern piano. However, it would help greatly in understanding and carrying out the composer’s intention through studying the fingering directly from the composer. To have the composer’s fingering suggestions, fingering rules in contemporary treatises are also important and can be used along with the composer’s suggested fingerings.
It does not mean pianists nowadays have to follow exactly the fingering markings from an original composer. It is more important to find out why the fingerings are there. The original
---
fingering can be understood as instructions for certain musical demands, or it is a way to indicate the composer’s desired effect.
One famous example is the opening of the first movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata Opus. 111. Beethoven did not instruct how to play the big octave leap. However, starting the piece with a diminished 7th chord suggests a traumatic or at least unstable mood, which is better explained by a risky rather than easy fingering. For me, it suggests life’s hard struggle. Although it is more challenging to guarantee the right notes, the riskier performance by one hand feels closer to the dramatic character. Though the technical difficulty is increased, the musical intention is clearly revealed as well. Plus, the technical difficulty forces the upper body get involved more in this transportational movement, so visual effects in some way helps the listener to reach the composer’s illustration as well.
On the other hand, there are pianists argue that the performer could achieve the same effect that the composer desired by using different or even better methods of fingerings that does not take into account performance practice of the period and/or does not consider using the composer’s fingering suggestions. One modern pianist interview said “not doing the composer’s fingering, (because) I am probably more likely to realize his intention than if I stick to the notation.”
Fingerings from editor
When editing fingering, editors sometimes provide their own opinion additionally for various purposes. Schenker follows Beethoven’s fingering ideas when adding his fingering on Beethoven’s sonata, in which the ideas place on musical intention rather than technical
---
demands. Other editors who are pianists, such as Schnabel, Badura-Skoda, Schiff, or many others, also provide their opinions of fingering bases on their researches and performance experiences. However, it is noteworthy that several editions which marked as “Urtext” in the market actually contain more or less additional markings which are not from the original manuscripts.
Basic fingering rules
Generally, there are several basic fingering rules proposed from the 18th century and they are still counted as common rules when selecting fingering today. These rules include but are not limit to the weak-finger rule, stretch rule, position-change-count rule, four-on-black rule, short-finger-on-black rule, and short-finger-on black rule.
Weak-finger rule, as the name suggests, is to avoid using weak fingers to play as often as the stronger ones. The thumb, fourth and fifth are considered “weak” in different levels as we discussed in the previous section on anatomy. Stretch rule means avoiding stretching as much as possible, no matter what size of the hand a pianist has. In the book An Ergonomic Model of Keyboard Fingering for Melodic Fragments, scholars marked numbers to indicate the level of stretching, then calculate the marked numbers to derive a final score for each group of fingering in order to find the most comfortable fingering. Position-change-count rule is that to change hand position as less as possible. This rule probably is from Czerny, who follows Beethoven’s idea of staying close to the keyboard and not changing position that much. Avoiding placing the thumb,
---
fourth finger, and fifth finger on black key rules are understandable. Playing the fourth finger on a black key is an additional difficulty, especially when the third finger is on a white key. Scholars mention the pass from non-thumb on white key to thumb on black key is the most difficult case.
**Historical fingering rules**
As studying the historical articulation rules and performance practice, it would be helpful for today’s pianist to select better fingering if they study comprehensively the fingering rules in the music history. It can be a huge project to find out the reasons how those historical fingering rules formed, and how were the rules related to the period instrument – harpsichord, clavichord and fortepiano. However, the priority of studying historical fingering is to understand that fingering rules had changed and developed from generation to generation, and it will keep changing today and in the future. Once the pianists accept this concept, they would not see fingering as a fixed instruction written on the music, but rather an additional method of approach to the composers’ music.
Prior to Bach, the tendency was to use primarily the middle three fingers. J.S. Bach was innovative in using five fingers more equally and closer to the keyboard. He centralized the thumb as the principle finger. C.P.E. Bach followed his father’s idea, and developed this hand position concept by adding the cross-over and cross-under possibilities. C. P. E. suggested multiple fingering options for one passage: each fingering providing different thoughts of pattern grouping. For example, when playing the C major scale with the right hand, he suggests
---
12312345, 12341234, and 12343434. This idea makes great flexibility through creating different groupings by different fingering design. On the other hand, C. P. E. Bach selects strong fingers for accented notes, and apparently the unaccented notes with relatively weaker fingers.
Beethoven was influenced by C. P. E. Bach’s fingering innovations. As mentioned above, he preferred a playing style in which the fingers stay closer to the keyboard in order to play the notes more connected. Beethoven seems to prefer more use of legato and less staccato and detached playing than his predecessors. When he wants a passage to be played detached, he will indicate that in the music.
Scholars who study Beethoven’s music feel that the fingerings are indicated to express a specific musical intention. For example, in a running passage, he marked the same finger for the last four notes before the high point of the phrase. This fingering forces the performer to play and arrive at the high point through detached articulation. There are three advantages in using this fingering. First, the detached playing makes the sound more articulated, which enhances the arrival to the climax. Second, the detached playing lifts the hand up, and when the hand comes down with arm support, it increases the power of the sound production. Third, it takes more time to repeat the same finger in a running passage and this timing highlights the dramatic approach to the climax.
Beethoven marked fingerings to achieve his particular compositional idea and sound. By using and studying his original fingering, we are trying to understand the clues of his musical thinking in addition to the dynamic, timing, and articulation markings. Even if we decide to not
33 Examples can be found in his sonata Op. 7, 4th movement, mm141-142;
use the composer’s fingering, I think it is important at least try all the suggestions that the composer indicates.
Czerny is influenced by Beethoven to keep the hand position close to the keyboard and prefer hand crossing rather than arm lifting. He seeks comfortable fingerings which provide maximum velocity and virtuosity. He also centralized hand position to the thumb as did Beethoven, while restricting three to cross over four. He allows the pianist to change fingering on a holding note in order to keep the whole phrase legato. He suggests not using the same finger on consecutive keys. In short, Czerny’s fingering rules are not focused primarily on finding the musical meaning of the notes. He focused more on adjusting fingerings to fit the developing virtuosic direction of the 19th century style. Beethoven was in many ways a transitional composer and the reader will have to decide for himself whether to follow Beethoven’s more classical suggestions or Czerny’s prescription which looks forward more to 19th century pianism.
As mentioned above, Chopin believed the fingers have their own different characters. Thus, he marks many fingerings which are unsystematic. Many pianists find these fingering surprising. Two typical examples would be that he frequently crosses the thumb under the fifth finger and he repeated one finger on multiple notes, perhaps a throwback to earlier practices. This would make sense since Chopin felt much closer to Bach and Mozart than to someone like Beethoven.
Other notable fingering rules could be found from Kullak and Schenker. Kullak encourages performers to select fingering based on their technical approach. He believes the fingering selection would be largely different between a pianist who prefers to use wrist movements a lot and a pianist who tend to keep the wrist still. Schenker recommends fingering selection based on harmonic changes.
Aesthetic difference of fingering between the past and in the modern time
Musicians will have different priorities when selecting fingering. The biggest difference between the historical and modern views is that modern fingering is aiming for velocity and virtuosity, while the historical fingering cares more about phrasing and articulation. It might be impossibly challenging to select a fingering, which is satisfying both in explaining the composer’s intention as well as physically the most comfortable. Physical ease cannot be ignored as making a fingering decision. However, it seems that most master pianists tend to emphasize musical interpretation when choosing fingerings.35
The experiment in An Ergonomic Model of Keyboard Fingering for Melodic Fragments shows pianists make fingering decisions at different stages when learning a new piece. Most pianists would start to read the notes with standard fingerings which have been unconsciously implanted through their training. In fact, they admit that the standard fingering makes them comfortable when facing performance stress or memorization challenges. Fewer pianists in the experiment prefer articulation study before identifying the fingering. One participant additionally remarked that “the organization of the music implicit in a fingering is for the player's conceptualization, not the listener's.”36
There are a few more thoughts regarding the evolution of the piano and piano technique since the late 18th century that I would like to share before discussing my approach to Mozart’s Fantasy and Piano Sonata:
36 Ibid.
1. Since the black keys on the modern piano become longer, and spans between the keys become wider, several fingering rules are no longer suitable including the thumb-on-black rule and short-finger-on-black rule.
2. The same fingering in different registers might have various effects depending on the level of twisting the wrist of the hand has. For example, 345 of right hand on low register would definitely better than 123.
3. Slower tempo provides more opportunities for fingering experiments.
4. Changes of hand position would be more desirable in detached playing.
5. When the accents are needed, using strong fingers would help.
6. Same fingering on parallel passages is always helpful. But it might potentially increase the memory confusion.\(^{37}\)
---
**Chapter 4 Selecting fingerings on Mozart’s Fantasy in D minor**
---
Example 1: Fantasy in D minor, K. 397, m. 20-22
---
In the D minor Fantasy, from measure 20, a new dramatic passage enters without musical transition. As Example 1 indicates, the new idea starts with a repeated E natural note and gradually adds chromatic descending scales both in the middle voice and bass octaves. This phrase arrives on the great dissonance at measure 22, which resolves on the second beat in the same measure. My fingering suggestion here is using the third finger of the right hand to start the phrase, keeping the same finger on E natural even though the inner voice joins at the end of measure 20. The advantage for keeping the same fingering on this repeated motive is to maintain an absolute same tone quality which fits the striking thrilling musical character. As you can see, in the fingering suggestion from Badura-Skoda, he changes fingering when the inner voice enters. After that, the repeated E natural note is played by the fifth finger, while the line of inner voice is phrased by thumb and index finger in order to create a more horizontal motion. Mozart clearly indicates that all three voices – top repeated notes, inner chromatic scales, and left hand octave should be played without legato. The fifth finger that Badura-Skoda suggests is weak and less on the passion and drama of this passage. The fingering I suggest, particularly the third finger on the repeated note and the repeated thumb on the inner voice, enables the performer to play this passage with utmost intensity.
In measure 22, I choose 323432 on the right hand, while Badura-Skoda prefers 5(4)34543. My reason is to avoid use fourth finger as extensively as possible, especially when playing 32\textsuperscript{nd} notes. Plus, the dynamic here is a rapid diminuendo after the phrase arrives at the most dissonant diminish moment on the downbeat of measure 22. It would be much easier to control the tone and dynamic when using 23432 rather than 34543.
Example 2, Fantasy in D minor, K. 397, m. 27
In Example 2, the left hand chromatic ascending thirds first appears in measures 26 and 27. In the example, I marked my fingering in red, contrary to the blue fingering I believe is used more commonly. The significant difference is on the second beat, notes D and F, that I choose 24 instead 35, though 35 would make the following patterns easier to play with less hand position changing. The reason I prefer to use 24 here is the priority of keeping one single line from the first third, A and C, which I use 35. To me, 35 on D and F is giving a feeling that this phrase is divided to two parts which both generate on 35 fingering. On the other hand, my fingering 13-24 avoids using the third finger immediately as 13-35 does.
In Example 3, the red fingering marking is my personal preference, while the blue one is from Badura-Skoda’s edition. Technically, it would be easier to alternate the left and right hands in this cadenza-like running passage, especially the ascending passage after the bottom note is reached. Crossing hand technique seems to be a better solution. In the example, the fingering in blue suggests to use left hand on the first note of each group of descending pattern, and suggests cross hand playing for the ascending arpeggio. However, cross hand, to me, looks too virtuosic, and deliberately entertaining audiences visually. In my opinion, frequent changing of hands here is losing the musical intensity that contains the internal tension, determination and an indomitable spirit when going straight forward.
When the Fantasy moves on to the Allegretto chapter, slurs are marked more frequently, and are marked differently. Here, in example 4, I intended to choose one fingering pattern and fit on various slur marking in the whole Allegretto section. It is obvious that the fingering in red is not using fingers as smoothly as the blue one. Placing the fourth finger on the last notes from measure 55 and 56 would force a hand lifting gesture that helps the performer to explain the slur easier. At the same time, the lifting movement also enhances slightly arm weight on the next note, which is on the downbeat. In short, by changing the fingering from 3 to 4, both the articulation and the rhythm are assisted. However, the pianist should be aware that the wrist movement is important in assisting the suggested fingering. Otherwise it would be tense to play an interval of a third with 5-4.
In Example 5, the same consideration directs to the fingering in red rather than the one in blue. When playing a technically easier piece such as this Fantasy in D minor by Mozart, there would be more possible fingering options to consider, while keep the smooth playing. Here, I choose the fingering in red which is 1&2, because placing thumb on the downbeat would enhance the strong beat, and would also avoid to use thumb on black key as what historical performance practices suggested. Also, by finishing the slur with index finger, it increases the distance from the last note under the slur to the next phrase, which forces a lift again. If we choose to use thumb on the last note under the slur, it would be pretty easy to connect to the next note by stretching the hand slightly.
Example 6 is the last phrase of this Fantasy. Mozart places the Allegretto theme in \textit{pp} dynamic on the middle register after a \textit{fermata} and immediately follows the same theme with \textit{f} dynamic one octave higher, with different accompaniment, rhythm and articulation. As you can see, the last statement from measure 102 abandons the detailed slur markings, as well as the appoggiatura on the downbeat of measure 103. The more open spaced left hand accompaniment gives a grander effect at the same time. All these changes explains Mozart’s idea here: to provide a vigorous and honored ending. In this case, I believe it is less important to provide the details of the two slurs in measures 102 and 103. Instead, in order to fit the music intention, placing every single notes as clear as possible would be more effective. Thus I choose 1-5-3-1-5-3 because the third finger is stronger than the fourth and insures that all notes are strong.
As we have discussed above, Turk suggests that “Two notes may be kept down by the fingers in broken chords accompaniment.” I believe the case here, left hand in Example 7, fits the instruction from Turk, which means a pianist should use finger pedaling technique on at least the first two notes while playing left hand accompaniment. Here, a pianist might tend to start with fourth finger on measure 2, since the pattern in measure 2 is one degree higher than the pattern in previous measure. However, starting the left hand pattern with fourth finger would make hand position more stretch, if pianist hold the first two notes. By using the fifth finger on the first note of each pattern, it provides the maximum space for the rest of the fingers.
In Example 8, in order to interpret the slur in a comfortable way, one must lift up on the second notes under all the slurs here. The blue fingering in the example helps force the pianist to lift up between the slurs, while keeping a natural hand position. However, the 3243, fingering which marked in red in the example, might be another solution to consider. First, it forces the lifting as the blue one does. Second, it places the third finger on the downbeat and the fourth finger on the second beat and help us understand that the downbeat is stronger than the second beat.
As indicated by example 9, I choose the index finger on the third beat at measure 34 (in red color), a note which also has a stroke marking on it. Though it would be more common to place thumb on it as a comfortable and smooth result, I noticed it would be very difficult to lift up at the end of the previous slur if connects it with the thumb on the third beat in tempo. Again, the repeated index finger not only helps to illustrate the articulation, but also enhances the third beat with extra arm weight from lifting, especially when there is a stroke marking on it.
Contrasting to my fingering, the fingering edited by Robert Levin in *Wiener Urtext*\(^{38}\), which is marked in black, focuses on smooth playing but not articulation. The fingering is not helping the performer to represent the articulation idea, but encouraging a more connected playing between slurs and the stroke note.
---
Example 10 is another example of changing fingerings in repeated patterns. The reason I choose not to keep using 232 on the left hand is the harmony changes in the third pattern, which is the downbeat in measure 44. Compared to the other three patterns, the third one is diminish 7 of vi in F major, which is much more dissonance and surprising. I choose to start the other three patterns with index finger, but the third pattern with third finger, in order to enhance the diminished color with a stronger finger.
In Example 11, the fingering choose in measure 125 and 126 is mainly for the consideration of slur articulation and the legato on ascending chromatic scales. There would be enough time for a pianist to start the chromatic scale with the index finger, even though the index finger has been be used at the end of previous slur. The advantage for using index finger rather
than the thumb on the first note of chromatic scale is to avoid starting the scale with a sense of accent from the thumb, as well as a forced lifting from B flat to A between the measures. Finally, because of the lyrical and singing music atmosphere here, I choose 231231234, but not 131231312, for the chromatic scale in order to make the phrase feel more legato.
Example 12: Piano Sonata in B flat major, K. 333, second movement, m. 20-21
Example 12 is a good example to illustrate my fingering preference on repeating notes. When the repeated notes have a clear direction moving forward, I would recommend alternated fingering as long as there is no technical conflict. In this example, the worst idea is to keep using thumb and fifth finger from the first repeated chord because the fingering is not helping musical intention at all. By using 15-15-25-25, it would be uncomfortably outstretched when playing F and E flat; it helps the increasing music tension toward to the B flat chord on next downbeat, through an increased physical tension. Another solution would be 15-25-15-25 which is marked in blue in the example. It provides a strong phrase direction moving toward the next measure with less enhancements on each beat.
Example 13 is another repeated note fingering example could be found in the development section of the second movement. Here the music shifts from E flat major to F minor. After a long ostinato from measure 35 to measure 41, it finally resolved at A flat major. I tend to use one finger on almost all the repeated notes in the bass line, to provide an uncertain, mysterious atmosphere. The fourth finger would be a good solution here, because it is not as strong as the third, not as lyrical and sensitive as the index. The thumb and fifth finger would also be inappropriate because they are either too strong or too weak. I prefer to stop repeating the fourth finger at measure 40, when there is a slur, which is right before the arrival note – the V43 – on the next measure downbeat. I use repeated fingering in the right hand at measure 40 until the last note. In this way, both hands move their position from a vertical repeated lifting movement to a contrary motion toward to each other. This physical movement at some point helps the pianist to sense the musical direction unconsciously.
At measure 48 and 49 of the same movement, in Example 14, the first repeated chord pattern belongs to the end of previous phrase, but the same notes repeated one octave higher are used to lead the music back to the main theme later. In this case, the two patterns function differently, though the harmony and articulation are exactly the same. I would suggest the pianist to use different fingerings according to his/her preference. For example, if one prefers the next phrase with higher internal tension to transition the music back to main theme, he could use an alternate fingering on this repeated chord pattern, such as 15-14-13-12 on right hand and 51-41-31-21 on left hand, while the previous pattern keeps repeated fingers such as 13 on right hand and 14 on left hand. However, it would be possible do the opposite fingering selection if one interprets the first pattern with a stronger direction to the last note, in order to finish the phrase with a stronger, more emotional ending. In contrast, the second pattern could keep a repeated fingering so the musical direction is temporarily saved until the descending scale leads to the main theme later. In short, I would say fingering selection could always be flexible and individualized, once the pianist come up with his understanding of the music and composer’s original intention.
As we discussed above, multiple fingering solutions are possible depending on your understanding of the composer’s intention. The motive at the beginning of the third movement repeats again and again in this rondo movement. The performer must decide if the theme should always return with the same articulation or with other possibilities. It would be interesting to try several fingering ideas that would facilitate changing interpretations of the theme. Both fingerings in blue and red explain the articulation accurately, while the blue one provides a more comfortable wrist movement. But the blue one increase the possibility to make accent on the last beat accidentally. The blue fingering keeps a pianist’s wrist moving, and provides a more comfortable move toward the next measure. The fingering in black is an idea that creates fresh and even surprising effect. It courageously places thumb on repeated black keys in order to produce a contrasting character after the tender second movement finishes.
This running chromatic scale, in Example 16, is in the middle of the third movement. By considering the whole movement’s character, I tend to interpret almost all the transitions in a linear way, so there would be a better contrast every time when the main theme returns. Under this idea, I try to avoid using the most common fingering for chromatic scales – 2123131231312. I believe this standard fingering uses the thumb too many times, which provides a brilliant sound and allows pianist to play the scale fast. I have tried two other fingerings, which I marked on the example with blue and red colors. The red one is my favorite because it has only one thumb throughout the whole scale. It largely avoids making an accent accidentally by thumb during the scale. In fact, it is inspired by Chopin’s etude No.2 in Op. 10. The fingering marked in black is from Wiener Urtext which is interestingly combined the standard fingering and the fingering I marked in blue.\(^{39}\) It provides richer variety that the first
---
half of the chromatic scale runs brilliant then it tends to be more lyrical in the second half so the music connects to the main theme nicely.
Example 17: Piano Sonata in B flat major, K. 333, third movement, m. 171-172
As I have mentioned earlier in this paper, the fourth finger tends to be the weakest finger as its independent extension is most limited by the juncurae tendinum. Though the fingering marked in blue keeps a very nice hand position for each pattern, it is still considered risky, for too many fourth finger within running notes, especially it would be placed on black key in the first pattern.
Chapter 6 Conclusion
This paper concentrates on new ways to select fingerings. To better understand how fingering selection can serve the composer’s musical intention, I studied schools of treatises and
performance practices in the 18th century, the anatomy of the hand, the development of the keyboard instrument, and the development of the aesthetic of music. I experimented with two works by Mozart. I found that it is initially uncomfortable to employ fingers that are not from the “standard” fingerings. However, through adding more “self-invented” fingering to the two Mozart pieces, my fingers gradually accepted the new fingerings. The reason pianists tend to use conservative fingering for performance and memorization is because they only know the “standard” fingering. Once pianists liberate their minds to experiment with new fingerings, they will broaden their musical abilities, both physically and intellectually. However, this experimentation of finger selection is only tested on Mozart’s piano music. It requires further study and research on music by other composers which have more complex voicing and thicker texture.
|
Efficient and Accessible InDesign Practices Most Designers Don’t Use
Presenter: Colleen Gratzer
6:17 – STC Atlanta
Got it? Okay, all right, you guys. So if you put those your questions in the chat, we'll take care of them at the end. So here is Colleen Kratzer, and she is a 20 year veteran of accessibility. She's award winning. She has a her in design accessibility training. She's in that for the U. Department of the Interior, Creative Pro and Design, Adobe's and Accessibility Summit she's got a podcast, Design Domination and owns Gratzer Graphics through which she provides design and accessibility services to non profits, creative firms, and developers as well.
7:02 – STC Atlanta
So she is also a member of the IAAP which is the international association of accessibility professionals she has a certification from w three c and website accessibility as well so without further ado here is Colleen Gratzer for our in design um accessibility tips tonight thank you so much Colleen will you take it away.
8:00 – Colleen Gratzer
And today we have some interesting talk not just about accessibility, but actually one of my favorite accessibility topics, which is in design. And so today I'm to get into efficient and accessible in design practices that most designers or in designers don't use. And that's either because they don't know about them, they don't understand why you would use them, or they think that they might take more time. And you're already pressed for time, right? So learning something new is going to take longer.
8:38 – Colleen Gratzer
Well, I see these features being underused all the time, even by designers and in design users with 20 years of experience. And listen, no offense there. I mean, that's like me with Photoshop, okay. I wanna help you become more efficient in in design, but also help you understand how these practices can actually help with accessibility. And actually if you do any EPUB work, these will help with that too, because clean files are also clean files are important for not only accessibility but for Epps And so right now I'd love to know like in the chat, like how would you rate your in design skills, like are you beginner, are you intermediate, or are you advanced?
9:20 – Colleen Gratzer
I'd love to see what you have to say. I have a ton to cover today. Before we dive in, I just want you to know that you're in the right
place. If you are looking to work more efficiently and in design, you're looking to maybe get started with in design and PDF accessibility, and maybe you also want to find out how accessibility can help you with your work. So you will learn what accessibility means when it comes to documents and why it's important and then common myths and misconceptions about accessibility and also how accessibility helps you, not just the end user.
10:00 - Colleen Gratzer
And then also efficient and accessible in design practices that will save you time and help you make your documents more accessible. Even though I'm gonna cover in design practices that are good, whether or not you're doing any accessibility work, I'll start by explaining what accessibility means when it comes to documents. And in the chat again, I'd love to hear where are you now with document accessibility? Have you maybe just heard of it? Are you just getting started with it or are you doing it already?
10:36 - Colleen Gratzer
Unfortunately, most documents are not accessible, and an accessible document is one that allows people with different types of disabilities to access and understand the content, and the accessibility of a document relates to not just the visual design but also the technical setup. And here are some examples of how accessible documents are beneficial. So we've got sited use are able to read all the content regardless of having a visual disability you know that they might have, such as low vision.
11:20 - Colleen Gratzer
You know, when you don't consider accessibility, you might end up with hard to read text. It might be hard to read for people with and without a visual disability, such as this orange text on white or this white text on orange. Accessibility also means that all sited users can also understand the content, even if they have a visual disability. And you might be wondering, well, what, how is that different than reading it? Well, people with a form of color blindness would have trouble understanding this pie chart because instead of seeing green, blue, yellow and red, might actually see blue, brown, pink and tan, or blue, brown, olive green and tan, or blue, yellow.
12:08 - Colleen Gratzer
And olive green or blue, yellow, olive green and brown, so it's hard to tell the pieces of the pie from each other. Someone with color blindness might not be able to understand the chart because they see two colors that are indistinguishable from each other. Now accessibility for documents also means that sited keyboard users, those are people that use the keyboard instead of a mouse or with a mouse that they can navigate through the document. A keyboard user might be someone with multiple sclerosis, a lost limb or a broken arm or a hand.
12:52 – Colleen Gratzer
Because not all disabilities are permanent and they're not all from birth. I've actually been recovering from a broken hand for the past month and many work and general everyday activities have been quite a challenge for me, so I've been living that 1st hand. Accessibility also means that blind users can understand and navigate the content in a document and that they get the content in the correct order, as opposed to, say, some body text after a heading being read 1st or the 2nd column of text being read before the 1st column.
13:29 – Colleen Gratzer
You know, because what cited users see on a page is not necessarily the order that users of a screen reader or other assistive technology that they're going to get and accessibility is important because one billion people in the world have a disability and that's about fifteen percent of the population now in the united states it's estimated to be as high as about twenty to twenty five percent of people and this might surprise you, but all those people without a disability benefit from accessibility too, You know, I see a whole lot of white text on yellow backgrounds or white text on a light blue background, and I find that that hard to read and I don't have a visual disability.
14:12 – Colleen Gratzer
But here's another example When I rented an apartment many years ago, it was wheelchair accessible and I didn't need that, but that just happened to be the only apartment that they had available. And I actually loved it because it had extra wide doorways, which is great, especially for me because I'm super clumsy and I'm always bumping my shoulders and elbows on doorways. And it had this really large bedroom closet and a big bathroom, right? So while accessibility is essential for some people, it actually provides added benefit to other people too.
14:45 – Colleen Gratzer
Now a lot of people when they hear the word accessibility, they shrug it off or they have misconceptions about it and hey, I get it because when I 1st heard about accessibility seven years ago. Like it didn't have the same amount of attention that it has today, and I didn't know what it meant or what it was, and I certainly didn't think that it applied to my work at all. So I just want to dispel some of the common myths and objections that many people have when it comes to accessibility And one misconception that a lot of people have is that accessibility is ugly.
15:19 – Colleen Gratzer
I think that they think that like hyperlinks are going to have to be Microsoft Word blue and underlined or something, you know. And of course there are poor designs out there, but they aren't ugly because they're accessible. And like I said, most documents are not even
accessible. But an untrained individual cannot tell if a document is accessible by just looking at the visual appearance. Most people don't notice good design or accessibility, but they'll definitely notice bad design.
15:51 – Colleen Gratzer
Accessibility actually results in a better design and a better experience for all users. Now here are some accessible documents that my company has designed. I don't think that you would say that these were ugly, you know. You might also think that accessible ability will limit your creativity, that you won't be able to use certain colors or use certain typefaces, or that your designs will need to be bland or simple, or even that your layouts will have to be simple. But I've actually found that accessibility makes you a better problem solver, and that's really what a designer's job is, right?
16:28 – Colleen Gratzer
It's problem solving and communication. So I have found that you really think outside of the box and you find better and more effective ways to design or to lay out a document. You might also think that accessibility means using only dark colors or that you have to limit your choice of colors. And I've heard this a lot from other designers and in design users, but I've also heard this a lot from clients. And in fact I actually once had a client who sent me their color palette and unbeknown to me, they had 1st omitted their lighter colors assuming they wouldn't be accessible, and they didn't find this out until later when the client was asking about why the design was so dark.
17:10 – Colleen Gratzer
So it's important to understand that no color is inaccessible. It's always how colors are used together. And these accessible designs also don't use only dark colors. And in fact, if you were to use only dark colors, it would result in hard to read content that is inaccessible to many people with or without a visual disability. You absolutely do not have to sacrifice the design for accessibility. It is possible to create accessible, user friendly and beautiful documents, and you'll even become a better, more efficient in design user and designer in the process.
17:57 – Colleen Gratzer
Something else that I hear from people quite a bit is that accessibility is difficult. Well, learning new software can be difficult, learning how to build a website can be difficult, and really anything can feel difficult when it's new to you, right? I mean accessibility is very technical, but it's really an extension of the expertise that you already have with document layout and using in design. And it also isn't difficult if you understand the software really well and you use it properly.
And then if you have a comprehensive process like what I teach in my accessible PDF instrument design course, like something step by step. Another misconception is that passing a checker means a document is accessible. So let's say you check a document with the Acrobat accessibility checker or even another automated checker and let's say it passes, well, that doesn't mean that your document is accessible, and that's because automated checkers cannot detect all accessibility issues.
They can really only check for about maybe 30% of potential accessibility issues, and the majority of issues have to be checked for by a person, they have to be checked for through manual inspection. And accessibility isn't just about blind users and people who use wheelchairs, it's also about sighted people with a visual disability. It's also about people with a motor or a cognitive, learning, neurological or other type of disability. You might wanna actually get into accessibility for selfish reasons.
1st Let's look at how accessibility actually helps you in your workflow, because there are so many ways. Accessibility gives your work more value so what happens is that your documents reach a wider audience not just about eighty percent of users right because remember that twenty to twenty five percent of people in the us with a disability so you're actually reaching a wider audience. And accessibility makes for a more efficient process far more efficient process because you're using in design properly to start right and you're using the built in functionality in the software and if you're a designer, accessibility makes you a better designer.
It deepens your design expertise. It also gives you confidence. I mean, if you're not that confident about your design or your color choices, or you're sick of fighting design wars with clients or coworkers, then accessibility gives you the ammo to justify your design decisions, you know, and personal opinions about colors won't matter. Now i've had my own business since two thousand three and I will tell you of all of the things that i've ever done to help my business which has been quite a lot of things the number one way that I helped my business was with accessibility it completely transformed my business I was always busy and made good money but I was not always doing the work that I loved and I was taking on anything and everything And then I lost out on potential work that I did want from new clients, and it was usually because they gave the job to someone else who had more expertise in a certain industry, or they were more specialized, or my price was too low or it was too high, right?
It's like the Three Bears, Like it was never just right. As a designer, there was a ton of competition and how I thought I was setting myself apart wasn't working and so my business was not gaining any traction. So I ended up losing a lot of confidence and some clients didn't take me seriously enough as an expert, like they would call me that to my face, but I didn't feel like I was the expert, right? And so my business felt really stuck and I was really fed up. And then it's funny because the tables totally turned when I got into accessibility by accident in twenty sixteen and what I saw was that I eliminated ninety nine percent of my competition I win almost every project the work comes to me even from clients from all over the world which is crazy I charge more and I'm more confident and I get more respect.
And the other thing I noticed was that my design decision stopped getting questioned, no more knit picking. And so I became so much more confident even when talking with clients in the sales process, which I absolutely hated before. So I went from being a small fish in a big pond full of designers to a big fish in a small pond. Okay, that's me in the middle there. Like I said, accessibility has been an absolute game changer for my business and for my confidence, but I love helping others with this too.
But the other thing is that there are so few people that do accessibility and then there are fewer that actually do it properly. Okay, so let's dive into some efficient and accessible in design practices and these are going to save you time and they're going to make the layout process especially accessible. Layout process a a lot easier And I also want to mention that the more that you know in in design, the easier it is to incorporate accessibility into your layout process. Now there's more to do for accessibility than to know in design, but really understanding in design just makes that so much easier.
So let's start with paragraph styles. I know so many in design users hate to use paragraph styles because you have to take the time to create them. But on longer or more complex documents, or for accessible documents, using paragraphs styles is absolutely crucial. Using paragraphs styles means you have faster styling, right? So you can style text with the click of a paragraph style instead of selecting all the text and then styling it and then you have that document wide control over the text like when text has paragraph styles applied.
If you ever make a change. Change the font or the color or anything
else at the paragraph level. That will all be done instantly. Okay, then you'll also end up with consistent styling throughout your document. And then the styles also make table styling easier. I mean table styling can be a pain. And then paragraph styles are also necessary when you use text variables or create a table of contents. They're also also useful for you to do a search by paragraph style, and you can also easily replace a style with another style if you need to.
24:51 - Colleen Gratzer
Search and replace You can go to Edit, Find and Change and then select a paragraph style in the Find and Format area, and then you just select a paragraph style to replace it with if you wanna do that. And then you do find and change, and so this will give you a lot of control over the styling. Since the biggest objection that I hear from in design users about not using paragraph styles is the time it takes to create them, I have my counterargument ready, and that is to set the default paragraph styles.
25:40 - Colleen Gratzer
Now, if you're not doing this, this might blow your mind. I love this. Okay, So this means that these styles are going to be there every single time you create a new document. Okay, So that'll save you tons of time, even if you're going to change up the colors and the fonts or any other attributes on the style, right? Because every time you create a new document, these are gonna be there. So you're not gonna have to create the styles all over again and you can just delete any that you don't use, right?
26:04 - Colleen Gratzer
You just all you have to do is go in and style them instead of create them all the default Paragraph styles that I use include body text with an indent, body text without an indent. I've got three levels of headings bulleted lists, a numbered list, a block, quote, footnote, and end Notte style table headers and data cells, a table of content style. And then I also have a style for queries for any questions that I have for clients, which makes it easier to go and find them if I wanna search through the document and see if I've them all.
26:43 - Colleen Gratzer
Let's look at let's look at how to set up these default styles. So it's crucial to make sure that no documents are open. Okay, that's key. And then you just go to the Paragraph styles fly out menu and you'll select new paragraph and you're naming the style, so give it a name. Then you can make any adjustments such as the font or the indented or the space before after. And then you can have a new heading style that is based on or where you just change the font and the size and then add the space before and after.
27:38 - Colleen Gratzer
And then even get rid of the 1st line in then if you don't want that because you don't need that on a heading of course, right? So you can also add a little bit of space after if you want that. So you have your body tech style and then you have your heading style. And you set them up to how, you know, in most cases you would want them to be just change those attributes. And you can call it whatever, just whatever is gonna be clear for you. And then you can create a sub heads dial. So what is called subhead and then you can go in there and you can change the font, change the weight, change the size.
28:20 - Colleen Gratzer
Remove the 1st line indent and then add some space before. And you can also just reorder the styles too, you can put them in order of the most frequently used on top if you want, or you can even sort them alphabetically. If you were to create a new document and then fill the primary text frame with the placeholder text, it's going to get styled as whatever was last highlighted. So in that case it was basic paragraph. Well, we can apply the body text style by highlighting it and then if we want that to be the default.
28:56 - Colleen Gratzer
We just keep it highlighted. So you see, when you go to create the new document and fill with placeholder text, it's using whatever was last highlighted there. In this case. Let's try with the heading one just to demonstrate. So creating a new document filled with the placeholder text and you see now it's styling everything with the heading style because that was the one that was last highlighted. So the default paragraph styles save you time not only in creating them every time you have a document, but also in formatting the text.
29:30 - Colleen Gratzer
If most of a document is going to use, let's say, the body text style and you highlight that style before you create a new document, then your text will get styled with that, then you have less styling to do of the other things like the head ins. Now, like I said. You could reorder the style or you can sort by name from the fly out menu there, and you can even group them into folders. You can call them whatever you want. So you could have a folder that's just for headings and then just drag all your headings down into the headings And you know, a lot of times with accessible in design files, you can find yourself with so many styles and having folders can really help.
30:21 - Colleen Gratzer
I mean, I create them for headings, I'll create them for list styles, all kinds of different things. Now, what's even better, what helps you leverage paragraph styles is the based on feature, and this makes things so much more efficient. Makes for even faster styling, because when you change a style that is based on another, it affects that one too, unless you've gone and made a manual adjustment to that same particular attribute in that paragraph style, right? So that could be
the difference between changing one or two styles versus 15 or 20 or more in your document.
31:06 - Colleen Gratzer
Let's take a look at that. Let's say we've got this h one style and h two style. That is based on this H one. So this H one is bold and it's 18 points, and this H two is based on the H one. As you can see there. This style will have all the same attributes other than what you change, so we're just gonna change the font size to be 15 instead of 18. You can also change the size of the color or something else. So if we create a new document and add some text, we can apply the heading styles to each one. So here is heading one and then here is heading two.
31:57 - Colleen Gratzer
And then if we go into the heading one, let's make a change like the color, change it to blue. You'll see that heading two also inherited that blue. As well. So it didn't stay black, it changed to blue. Let's say we want to change something to the base, that means we want to change it back to the base. We could reset to base. So if we want to start over then we can do that, so it's still based on that original style, but we can reset everything in this style. And so let's say we want to add a rule.
32:39 - Colleen Gratzer
Below the heading and change the offset on that. We can do that and you'll see again we did that to the H one and it affects the H two and then you can adjust the spacing. And again, all of that is being affected in the H two as well. So any other styles that you have that are based on that particular parent style, that in this case the H one, it's all, it's gonna make those changes unless you've overridden them. Space before and after seems to be an underutilized feature in design too. I see a lot of designers well, and clients adding in extra paragraph marks to add space in between paragraphs, right?
33:23 - Colleen Gratzer
And oftentimes the designer will leave them in. But these added characters, these added paragraph marks can actually cause problems for users of assistive technology, and they can cause confusion for screen reader users who might think that they're actually missing content from hearing and empty paragraphs. So the benefits are that using space after or even space before that, they negate the need to add any additional characters into the layout to add the spacing. And so that means you don't have to go checking for issues if text reflows either, like if a hard return ever ends up appearing at the top of a page.
34:02 - Colleen Gratzer
When you use paragraph marks to add space between paragraphs, like I said, you're adding the character into the layout, so that means. That
you have to go and check for them like at the start of a page and remove them, so you don't have that extra space that you don't want there. Well, that's really time consuming. And then, you know, If text reflows, you have to check all over again and you don't want to do all of that, right? If you remove them, which you can just do via a fine and replace and then you just add the space before the heading instead of space after the paragraph.
34:43 - Colleen Gratzer
Then you're not adding any extra characters into the layout and like I said, you can just do a search and replace, get rid of those extra paragraph marks. You actually end up with a much cleaner layout, and as I mentioned earlier, a clean layout is essential for accessibility. It's also essential for EPUBS as well. Another huge time saving feature in the paragraph styles is the Keep options feature. And this is awesome, and you're probably going to hear me say that lots of these are awesome because I don't, I have so many favorites.
35:23 - Colleen Gratzer
But you have so many options to choose from With keep options, you can select keep with previous to keep with the previous paragraphs. You might want to do that if you have a list and you wanna keep the list with the paragraph before it. You can keep text with the next x number of lines so you could keep all lines in the paragraph together. Like for a heading, right? You never want to split a heading across a column or a page or whatever. I mean across pages or spreads and so you can keep all lines together.
35:54 - Colleen Gratzer
Then you can also and set it to all lines and paragraphs they don't break, but so that's perfect. Paddings like I said, but you can also have keep lines together and then do at start and a paragraph where you set it to, let's say two and two or you can adjust that to whatever. Maybe you want three in three so that you never have like one line of text at the bottom of a page and then one at the start of the next page, right? So you can always split it so there's a sufficient number of lines at the end of the paragraph or start in the next paragraph, like where, where it breaks.
36:31 - Colleen Gratzer
The benefits to this are that it negates the need to add any breaks or any paragraph marks for spacing like hard returns, cause you you don't wanna like add breaks in to get text to flow like to the next column or to the next frame or the next page etc. Right? Because if text reflows then things You have to go and remove those marks, right? So if you don't have those extra characters in there and you just use the style with the keep options, then that's when the text reflows. Things will just adjust automatically.
37:08 - Colleen Gratzer
You don't have to go and check and remove them. Here is an example, let's say the key options for the body text. Let's say we have them as keep lines together and then start to end two right? And then in H one though the keep options we wan to keep with the next three lines of the next paragraphs, and we want to keep all of the lines together, all the lines in the paragraphs, because we don't want the headings to ever break. Right? Because we don't want to end up with this, we don't want to end up with a heading at the bottom of the page, or we don't want a heading in like one line of text, right?
37:49 - Colleen Gratzer
So that's why we set it to three. So we would only end up with a situation where there's only three lines of text there or it, it's gonna move to the next page or column. Now you can also choose where to start a paragraph, so instead of adding hard returns or any kind of column or page, break characters. To get the text where you want it to go, you can just use the key options for this. This particular style, right? So we could add this extra paragraph and it's again adding characters into the layout, right?
38:28 - Colleen Gratzer
So the alternative would be Well, let's take a look at this. Like you can have a frame break, column break, like I mentioned any of these break characters or what I'm referring to, right? So the alternative would be to use the keep options on the style. So in this case, with the chapter title, we can adjust the keep options to keep the lines together. All the lines and paragraphs, they all stay together and we can start it in the next frame or on the next page, any of those options. So in this particular layout, it would always need to start on the next page.
39:11 - Colleen Gratzer
And you can set it to the next odd page or even page. So you have a lot of different options there. And so this one here is a different heading, you know, You can adjust the size of a text frame, you could give it text wrap, you know, if you wanna have an exact amount of space, say below it, you know, But who wants to be adjusting text frames all the time when you can automatically set the text to start there automatically, right? So let's say the 1st paragraph is always gonna start in the next frame, so we can set the key option to start in the next frame and it's always going to start wherever that frame is.
39:52 - Colleen Gratzer
So if you have if you have your margin set for that and you have your text frame there, it's always start in that next frame with a style set like that, right? So this Fabulous again. It's less checking of your work and having to go adjust things and I'm all about that. If that example doesn't convince you to use keep options, let's look at another really cool use case here. I'm totally geek out over this,
okay, so let's say you have a bunch of items of really short text and you wanna thread them to their own individual frames, like in this case, all right, so they're all threaded together, well.
40:34 – Colleen Gratzer
There is a lot of different ways you could do this. You could adjust the insect spacing of all the text frames, right? But then some words might not fit at all in their own frame. You could add hard returns. To get the items to go to the next frame, right? But we're adding characters into the content. And also Vert it is no longer vertically centered because it's counting that paragraph mark. And that's a lot of work. And then what if the size the frames later change, right? So we could just go into the keep options and set them to be keep lines together, all lines in paragraph and then go to the next frame.
41:11 – Colleen Gratzer
Right, So you just create a style for this text with the keep your options set and then you're done. The next time saving feature is paragraph rules. Paragraph rules are awesome because they negate the need to add rules manually and I see that all the time. And then when text reflows, you end up having to go move the rule, right? Well here you don't have to check for that, you don't have to go back and move anything because they'll reflow with the text because they're just part of that styling, right?
41:48 – Colleen Gratzer
Let's take a look at that. And there's so many options that we have here with paragraph rules like above and below, so many options. So let's take a look at this heading level two here and we'll turn on the paragraph rules. So we'll turn on below and then change the color to orange. And we can change the offset. Space it out a bit. We can change the weight, we can change the type, so it can be dotted, it could be striped. Wavy Lots of options and some of them you are gonna have to bump up the weight in order to see the effects.
42:31 – Colleen Gratzer
And then you can change it so that the rule goes the width of the column or the text, but you can also change the left or right intent on it. Like if you wanted to have it bleed off the page so it doesn't have to stay within the boundaries of the text frame. It can actually go all the way off the page if you want it. And it's still, it's still just have tax free flows, it's just gonna stay with that. It's adding those, obviously because those are styled with the same paragraph, even though is no text there.
43:10 – Colleen Gratzer
Okay, Now another under utilized feature is paragraph shading and this has a lot of cool uses. Okay, this negates the need at any separate frame of color. You want a sidebar with the background color. This is your man, right? You get many of the same effects by using this on the
style. So again, let's say you have a side bar and the text reflows, you know, you're gonna have to go back and move that side bar. I can't tell you how many times I've had to do that in the past. You always, then you have to go back and figure out where did it go again and go back and look at the original copy or look at a previous proof, where was this sidebar?
43:54 – Colleen Gratzer
No more, don't have to do that. Now here is another cool use case for this, so you could use this if you wanted to have. Backgrounds on your headings. You can come in and set the color, you can set the tent of it, you can set the corner radius. And the shape for the corner and the offsets, think of your offset, offsets, like padding, you can change them up so that they're different and they don't all have to be the same. Then you can also change them to like where they're going to like the top edge and the bottom edge are going to be and if they're going to be the width of the text or if they're going to be the width of the column that they're in.
44:52 – Colleen Gratzer
So you have a lot of different options here. You can also make it so. That they, the background clips to the frame so you don't have it going out into the margin if you don't want it to or not printing or exporting. Look at these Different edges We have here lots of different edges, curves, square. Some of them are kind of kooky, some of them are kind of like eighties pixel video game looking. But you have lots of different options here and you can change them up so you have a square edge and then you could have Semi, I don't know what, that almost like an octagon edge, rounded edge.
45:40 – Colleen Gratzer
And you can get some really cool effects if you spend some time here. You can do some really cool things with this. I mean, like here's an arrow. But there is a lot of different ways that you can use this. Especially with being able to do this with four different corners. So you could have sayings like a capsule or a pill shape, an arrow shape, just a rectangular shape, so many different things. So that's something that's really fun to play around with. And again, like when you go to, when that Heading If it ever moves in the layout, all those effects just stay with it, they're just part of the style.
46:22 – Colleen Gratzer
Another effect that I see overlooked a lot is the underline, and I know, underlines, but you can actually do some really neat things with these. Okay, so they negate the need to add a separate frame for coloring, right? And there's no issues. Again if the text reflows, but you could use this. In an interesting way, and you don't have to use underlines just for hyperlinks. So you can create and if you create on, so you create on the paragraph style, then it's gonna apply to the whole paragraph, but you can also do it to the character style.
46:55 – Colleen Gratzer
So you turn the underline on. Let's say we're gonna give it an orange and we can bump up the weight and then we can just change the offset a bit and now it's like we have It's almost like using the paragraph shading again. We have a background to that text. Paragraph border is another one. This is really cool. Lots of fun things we can do here and you know. Again, this negates the need to add any separate frame with a border. And then when text reflores, it all stays together. So let's take a look at this.
47:49 – Colleen Gratzer
Okay, so in this heading style will turn on the paragraph border. You know, just like with these other ones, you can change up if, if you wanted to apply evenly to or equally to all of the different corners or not, and you can change the style. So the difference between the border and the shading is that this is just gonna be a border and shading fills up everything in the background. You can change the hint, you can change the offset of it, which again is like padding on The background or on the border in the background can change up the cap points on it.
48:29 – Colleen Gratzer
And the corner sizing, so similar things, similar attributes to the paragraph shading, but it just doesn't fill in the background, it's only gonna give you the border. Move ahead. You can use this in conjunction the paragraph shading so you can have them both turned on so you could have a border and the shading in different colors. So if you need to have a border that's one color and the shading to be another, you could do it that way. Or if you just want something to look like it's half filled up, you could do it like that too.
49:08 – Colleen Gratzer
So using both of them. Another feature that I love is span columns, which you can do single columns, or it can span columns, or you can split columns. This means that you don't have to create additional text frames, and again there is no issue if the text reflows because you're not having all these separate frames and you're having to put in breaks like column breaks or frame breaks. So take a look at an example here. We have a one column frame with a heading at the top and then two columns of text.
49:52 – Colleen Gratzer
Okay, great, but we can get away with having all of this. In just one column, so let's cut that out, Pull that two column frame up, and then paste that one column heading back in. Now we'll just go into that heading style. And then go to span columns. Span all columns. And now it's going all the way across. So even though it's a two column text frame, It's on, it's spanning the columns and then you can just add some space after. Give the same effect, right? Produces the same
effect. And if, let's say, you have to add a page in there at some point in the layout, you don't have to, it's not going to like reflow and you have to go back and move things around.
50:49 - Colleen Gratzer
Nested dials are awesome, and I don't know if you know Jason Hoppy, but when I had him on my Design Domination podcast to talk about our favorite in design features, he called nested dials delicious. And they're awesome, okay, So they result in really fast styling and less manual styling with character styles, right? So these are great for a table of contents. So let's say you have a table of content style and you wanna have. The title be bold. You could set it to be up to the tab character, which is typically what's used in the table of contents, right?
51:30 - Colleen Gratzer
You could create another nested style. If you want the dots to be a certain color, let's say. We could say up to or through tab character and then let's say you want the page numbers to be another style. Well, let's go and create a new character style for that one since we didn't have one already for that. And we'll make them script, let's say. Designate the font for that and then apply that there you go. So you've got three different nested styles here that you can apply a one click of a paragraph style E, Z, Pz.
52:16 - Colleen Gratzer
I mentioned earlier that paragraph styles are necessary for creating a table of contents and a lot of in design users are resistant to this usually because you have to use styles in the 1st place and they're not using them. But it also takes too long to set up the Tc, they think, but it actually can take a few attempts to get it how you just want it, but it will save you time and headache. And it also means that the table of contents will be interactive in the digital version, which means it'll be clickable and it generates the proper accessibility tags.
52:45 - Colleen Gratzer
So we'll take a look at this. Benefits are that there is such little room for error because manually creating a table of contents That relies on you copying and pasting them right and making sure that everything is included. That should be you could miss something, you could leave something out, you could miss type page number, and if you've ever had to remove or add pages in the layout process or a page moves because you had to add a blank page, let's say, you know, you'll have to remember.
53:13 - Colleen Gratzer
To go back to the Table of Contents and make the change yourself. And then if a, if an entry of the Table of Contents changes, you'll have to remember to go back and fix it, the Table of Contents too, right?
So you're changing things in a couple different places, but when you build it with the built in functionality, you're ending up with that clickable TOC and it's getting tagged properly, but it's also creating less work for you. And also creates bookmarks and you can also have multiple tables of contents.
53:49 - Colleen Gratzer
So take a look at that. I got a I've got a Tc heading style here. Set to automatic there and then a Tc text style also set to automatic for the proper tags. So because a lot of times you might have multiple table of content styles, like one for the heading like a section and then one, for like the general entry with the page number, you can You know, create as many as you need to, many you wanna have. Sometimes you might have like another level of text, like a level one and a level two. So you just set all those however you want them to look.
54:42 - Colleen Gratzer
This is why I like to have them in the default so that they're already there and then I can just change up how they look. And then go into layout Table of Content Styles and then you put the name, the title for your Table of Contents, whatever you wanted to be called Table of Contents Contents. And then you pick the style you want to use for the heading. So the Table of Contents heading. Then in the right side you just add over the styles that you want to add to the Table of Content. So Typically these are gonna be like heading level to right, they are gonna be some sub heads, so you just move them over to the left.
55:22 - Colleen Gratzer
And then you can pick what level they should be at. So you might have main sub heads being a level one and then your next subhead. Like in this case in age three that would be a level two and then you can also designate the style that you want to use for each one so this one h two is gonna be the headings and I wanna have the page number after the entry and I want there to be a tab between that. But then say for the H three, I'm use the Tc text style. It's going to be It's gonna have the page number after the entry again like the other one, so you can change if you wanna have the page number or not and where you wanna put it before or after the text and what level these are going to.
56:14 - Colleen Gratzer
Be set at. Okay, so how do these practices actually help with accessibility? Well, number one is that again, there aren't any additional elements to address for accessibility purposes. Number two is we're not adding any extraneous or unnecessary characters into the content, right? And then we're also ending up with a clickable, properly tagged table of contents. Now there is so much more to learn about accessibility, of course, and in this presentation I only touched on the surface.
If you are interested in digging deeper into document accessibility with InDesign and PDF, then be sure to grab my free guide, Essential in Design and PDF Accessibility Tools, because it includes a list of my favorite time-saving InDesign and PDF accessibility tools, and I think you'll find these really helpful, but you also get some addition. Accessibility tips in some emails as well and you can get that at creative dash booth dot com slash s TC. If you are ready to start creating accessible PDFs from InDesign and would like my help, my accessible PDFs from InDesign course will get you up to speed quickly, and I'm offering your group a special limited time offer just for being here today.
What I include in the course is I share my comprehensive plain English step by step process that makes it easy and efficient to create accessible documents from InDesign so that you know exactly what to do and what to check for and you know what to do and when in the process and you're confident knowing that your documents are accessible and user-friendly because that is key and you'll get eight hours of video training thirty five handouts to help you with what you just learned and you get a test project that you can submit and get my feedback on to see how well you did, and then you also get access to a Facebook group, although support is also provided inside the Coors platform as well.
Now there are seven modules understanding accessibility, structure and workflow, color and contrast, text elements, images, interactive elements, and then testing and the final PDF work. Because InDesign will get you most of the way there, but it cannot do everything, so there's always work to do in the PDF. You'll also get a seven-page in design and PDF accessibility checklist, so you'll save hours trying to figure out what to do with your next accessible InDesign document.
And you get to put your skills into practice right away with that sample project. So you can use, you can use this and implement what you learn with the checklist and go through the entire process and then you submit it for feedback and I'll give you feedback. On that and what you did well and what needs work you can go through the course in as quickly as two days. Some people go through it faster. Some people wanna take their time and that's fine too. After that, you'll know that you're Cre, you'll know that you're creating documents that are truly accessible, and you'll save time because you're not piecing together information from multiple sources and googling and guessing, and you'll be using best practices, and you'll be more efficient in your workflow.
But you'll also make a difference with your work, you'll get more respect, you'll stand out from other designers that are doing this and or not doing this rather, and you'll charge more for your work, or you'll increase your employability or job security. If that isn't enough I also have some exclusive bonuses just for your group and these are available when you enroll before September nineteenth bonus number one is fifty dollars off with code s STC, and if any of you know me I don't know how many of you do know me, but if you know me, you know I never offer discounts on anything.
1:00:24 - Colleen Gratzer
Bonus number two is an extra six months of support in the private course Facebook group, but you can also post questions inside the course platform as well. And you get an extra six months of support. So you get twelve months total and then bonus. Number three is a one on one coaching call with me. We can talk about your designs, we can talk about a technical layout issue you might have or something else. And again, these bonuses expire September 19. So I'll put the link in the chat to both of these, to the free guide and to the course.
1:00:59 - Colleen Gratzer
Okay, so I know I've got a little bit uh, to, to the edge here with the time, but I could rant all day about this, sorry, okay, so does anybody have any questions? Let me just check the chat here.
1:01:15 - STC Atlanta
I didn't see any questions. Anyone have anything? I'd like to go back over or review or.
1:01:21 - Colleen Gratzer
There are no questions. I don't think it's ever happened.
1:01:29 - STC Atlanta
So thank you for your journals offer that is again available until September the 19th.
1:01:29 - Colleen Gratzer
Let me check.
1:01:36 - STC Atlanta
We'll have that. I'll put that on the website as well. So if you guys don't pick it up here, we'll pick it up there. If we.
1:01:43 - Colleen Gratzer
Okay, so we have an advanced beginner,
Awesome.
1:01:49 – STC Atlanta
Well, we're right at time, so if no one has any questions, I'll go ahead and end it. I'll make sure that the, transcription, and other information comes out to everybody here shortly, within the week, and Colleen, thank you so much. I think that a lot of this I'll have to review separately to, to pull all that in U. I'm still new within design, but I am glad to know how to go into it with, accessibility in mind. I know that it's, it's very much. Just three fifteen hundred times more challenging if you do it after the fact than if you did it going in so I'm glad to see that these are things that that are easy to pick up.
1:02:24 – Colleen Gratzer
Yes, yes. And if and if anybody has any questions later that you think of later, because I mean, that happens and it might be like drinking from the fire hose right now, that's fine. Then you could just, you could just email me. I'll put my email in the chat real quick. colleen at creative hyphen boost dot com. So um, yeah, so if you think of something later that's fine, just send me over an email and I'll get back to you. So I hope this was helpful.
1:02:55 – STC Atlanta
I think so.
1:02:56 – Colleen Gratzer
I hope you picked up some new tricks.
1:02:56 – STC Atlanta
I think, I think a lot of people may be in technical writing, but in design is the mode for a lot of deliverables and I think even though a lot this may have lean towards design,
1:03:05 – Colleen Gratzer
Got.
1:03:08 – STC Atlanta
I think it's something that as accessibility comes to the forefront and and it is, it's coming slowly, maybe quietly, but there are a lot of legal cases that are out there that are going to move businesses to be more aware.
1:03:18 – Colleen Gratzer
Yes.
1:03:21 – STC Atlanta
So I, my thought in bringing this information to STC Atlanta was to, to go ahead and get in front of it rather than waiting for it to come to us.
Hm oh,
because as as you create your deliverables to be aware you may not,
always the best way. Yep.
as you said, with any checker, maybe 30 percentage and manually it
does take time, but I think now it's a time to start building those
skills and building that awareness. So thank you Colleen for getting
us.
Yeah, and, and even, even technical writers, not designers, as long as
you're using in design, you can still benefit from all this. And the
other thing too is that you might end up working on a file that a
designer laid out, but then you'll be able to format things and style
things properly. That'll be conducive for accessibility,
and that's, and that's. The other thing is that you may come in behind
someone. And they did exactly. The design work or it is something that
you have to remediate and house.
yes.
My theory is that as accessibility becomes more and more a concern,
that's going to happen, you know, the year Your role, you're titled as
a technical writer or a content creator or Ux writer,
Am.
You're probably gonna have to get in front of something that's already
out there and remediate that.
mm Hmm.
So my hope is that we can have these kinds of conversations and
presentations that get us,
1:04:32 – Colleen Gratzer
mm Hmm.
1:04:36 – STC Atlanta
get us a little ready for it, because I'm sure that's going to happen. All right, you guys, if that's it, no questions, we Colleen thank you again, I'm so glad that and I hope everything heals well, and I'm so glad that we could finally get on your schedule. If you guys have any questions,
1:04:53 – Colleen Gratzer
Thank.
1:04:54 – STC Atlanta
the email is there or you can email me or reach out on Slack and we'll get you an answer.
1:05:00 – Colleen Gratzer
All right, thanks so much.
1:05:01 – STC Atlanta
All right, thank you guys, have a good night, everyone.
1:05:03 – Colleen Gratzer
Thank you. |
Original Research Article
Patterns Transition: A Comparative Analysis of Changing the Open Spaces in Houses of Tabriz*
Minou Gherebagnou1**, Ghasem Motalebi2, Saman Saba3
1. Associate Professor, Faculty of Architecture and Urbanism, Tabriz Islamic Art University, Iran.
2. Associate Professor, College of Fine Arts, University of Tehran, Iran.
3. Ph.D. Student in Islamic Architecture, Faculty of Architecture and Urbanism, Tabriz Islamic Art University, Iran.
Abstract
Problem statement: Accelerated physical developments in the last century have led to the inefficiency of contemporary residential open spaces in Tabriz. However, in the realm of Iranian culture, especially in Tabriz, residential open spaces, have formed their patterns over time. The qualitative study of such embodiments can reveal the remaining capacities to address and resolve the challenges.
Research objective: This study investigates the patterns of open spaces in Tabriz houses over the times, intending to deepen the architects’ understanding of recent accelerated changes and to identify a meaningful relationship between them. Besides, the study tries to present an appropriate method for this kind of researches.
Research method: This research is qualitative with an interpretive approach and data-driven method. First, by reviewing the relationship between the concept of pattern and other influential components, a theoretical configuration for integrated analysis is explained by the QCA method. Then the data collected from the samples are organized and put into this configuration and finally, the findings are discussed.
Conclusion: In the qualitative analysis of consecutive categories of Tabriz houses (historical, middle and contemporary), there are three modes for the transition of identified conceptual patterns: Continuous (emergence as before), change of position (continuity of emergence but in different forms) and total change (elimination or replacement in the relationship between man and the environment). According to the analysis, the change in the combination of constraints in the outcome with environmental concepts has led to a change in how the patterns emerge and thus, transition. An overall assessment of this transition also reveals that environmental concepts derived from conceptual patterns have undergone fewer changes than they appear to be (sub-patterns) and making the place in the open spaces of houses in Tabriz, despite the precipitous external changes, has a relatively stable essence and is slowly evolving.
Keywords: Conceptual Pattern, Pattern Transition, Open Space, QCA method, Tabriz Houses.
* This article is extracted from Saman Saba’s Ph.D. thesis entitled “Role of Human Values in Assessment of Place Creating Processes in Residential Open spaces, Case study of Tabriz” which is done under supervision of Dr. Minou Gherebagnou and Dr. Ghasem Motalebi at the Faculty of Architecture and Urbanism, Tabriz Islamic art University in 2020.
** Corresponding author: +98914111940, m.gherebagnou@tabriziau.ac.ir
Introduction
The hasty alteration in physical environments in the current century, which have been accompanied by the transition from the past architectural patterns, is a significant phenomenon in identifying the relationships and procedures ahead for all stakeholders in this field. Therefore, deepening the knowledge of this field is indispensable in solving the forward environmental challenges. This phenomenon is even more critical in developing cities such as Tabriz, which have remarkable traditions in the architecture of human settlements because this process practically leads to the confrontation of global and local patterns. The most evident and fundamental example of this transition must be sought in houses. While the house has a direct connection to the most private areas of human life, it is also continuously influenced by social, economic and political processes in the age of globalization. A general overview can clearly show that the most influential part of the house in such a situation was the open spaces. What, as a “problem” can be the starting point of this research, is the uncertainty and inefficiency of contemporary open spaces and their transformation into “leftover” spaces between buildings and passages, putting masses only based on urban criteria and staying away from the meaningful place formation process. This is while, in the realm of Iranian culture, residential open spaces have evolved as part of the architecture and urban planning traditions and have developed their patterns. Tabriz, a historic city in a developing country that has experienced major physical growth of the housing sector in recent years in parallel with economic development, is an appropriate context for studying such this phenomenon. Locating the adequate range of historical and contemporary houses in this city can provide a complete image of the transition of open space patterns. Accordingly, the main question in this study can be considered as follows:
What patterns have open spaces in houses of Tabriz had from the Qajar era to the present, how can these patterns be identified and with what modality has the transition of patterns occurred in the time?
Answering this question begins with demystifying the concept of pattern. In such a way that will be able to correlate with the idea of time meaningfully. Then, by examining and organizing the data collected from the samples in the form of sub-pattern and conceptual patterns, an attempt is made to provide a comparative analytical analysis of the evolution of patterns in the open space of houses in Tabriz according to presenting a configuration based on theoretical argumentation.
The method of this research is qualitative with an interpretive approach and a data-driven method. In analyzing the qualitative data in this research, a kind of coding has been used that facilitates the description and, by using concepts and categories, moves in the direction of analyzing and creating the theory (Strauss & Corbin, 1990, 101). In this study, this was done through the integrated analysis of the reduced data from samples by the QCA method. Eventually, they are categorized under the headings of “environmental concepts” and compared and discussed.
Pattern and the concept of Transition
“Transition” is defined as the movement, development, or evolution from one form, phase, or style to another one and from this perspective, it is a substantial concept in pattern studies. Because although awareness of the pattern as a tool for conceptualizing and predominating it in designing the environment, can take on a rigid nature, it is also essential to apprehend the hidden dynamics in the arrangement of the built environment to discover what is happening in the environment premiere. The concept of transition was first proposed by the architect and urban planner Doxiadis (1968, 23-40) in describing contemporary architecture. He considers today’s architecture as the result of a transition period that follows the progression of its era. The architecture of this era is evolving much faster than before and although in the previous century the problem of architecture was to confront the past and freedom in creation,
now the main challenge is to get caught up in a period of transition. The dominance of the concept of transition over architectural evolution has led to generating styles at any time and place. Therefore the border between “style” and “fashion” is severely diminished (ibid.). In such an atmosphere, architects design “showcase” buildings to pretense in the media, while these works represent a small part of what is being built today (Salingaros, 1999). On the other hand, the people mostly incline to traditions that are not created by architects but by time. Thus, the amount of change requires architecture to be new but also to have been affected by its background a lot (Doxiadis, 1968, 28). In such an interpretation, the role of the “agency” becomes momentous and it distinguishes today’s architecture from the pre-existing architecture based on traditions that have emerged from [social] structures. The agency that is not entirely free and is affected by the “inertia” of the environment. Because man’s perception of the environment builds around himself depends on his culture (Grütter, 1987, 53). Therefore, human decision-making in shaping the environment is not a completely free choice, but in “interaction” with the structures and its appearance should be sought in the patterns. The patterns in the tradition have strong cultural roots (Doxiadis, 1968, 28). In contrast, the stylistic rules of contemporary architecture, with their extreme reliance on innovation, are the anti-pattern. Besides, just because of the novelty, against the traditional patterns (with the mask of new trends), they use the natural renovation process of pattern language, to destroy it. On the other hand, Patterns have evolved through synergy in a dynamic balance of coexistence and competition (Salingaros, 2000). Thus, the acceleration of evolution, in the age of transition, has severely distorted the structure-agency interaction, in the selection and renovation of patterns. Therefore, to explain the correct operation of the pattern, it should be briefly stated: The pattern must be in line with the past and also must be different from it. The concept of pattern in architecture should be explained by considering both aspects; otherwise, it cannot be relied upon in the analysis. The weakness of pattern-based approaches should also be found in the lack of simultaneous attention to these propositions in the continuous rethinking of the concept of pattern.
**Pattern and relationship**
The word Pattern (Shayanmehr, 1998, 79) is equivalent to idea, shape, model, template, design, manner and example in Persian. (Bridjanian, 1994, 419) and accordingly, the pattern has been used to refer to behavioral qualities, ideal role models, or to explain cultural principles (Gould & Kolb, 1965, 91). On the one hand, the pattern originates from an environment with comparable value, including educational and methodological values. on the other hand, the pattern can be applied in designing complex environments or adapting to new changes (Voigt & Swatman, 2006). That is why the function of the pattern can be considered as an attempt to simplify and understand the reality by arranging the elements and entering an order in them (Tavassoli, 1990, 142) and understanding complex relationships, which either have a subjective dimension or have appeared objective. Such perception has changed in various sciences and patterns based on popular conception have evolved into theoretical and abstract patterns (ibid., 144) and there has been a gradual shift from material patterns to formal patterns. The material model shows a complicated system in a more straightforward way that must have its complex characteristics and includes two main types. The first is the mechanical (non-organic) pattern that became popular after the Age of Enlightenment. The second is the Organic Pattern, which is similar to a living organism like a human body5. However, Formal patterns are the relatively simple institutional and logical structure, mentally provided and have structural features in the original real system (Shayanmehr, 1998, 86). In this pattern, the problem restructures reality in mind through abstraction and representation by signs and concepts (Tavassoli, 1990, 146). Accordingly, all
parts of the world (physical, biological and social) evolve according to similar principles (Turner & Beeghley, 1991, 29) and in the meantime, by emphasizing the element of similarity, the pattern provides a clearer understanding of the correlation between reality and the mind (Tavassoli, 1990, 30). The most famous example of the development of formal patterns in architecture can be considered in the theories of Christopher Alexander. In his view, each pattern describes a problem that is repeated and expresses the depth of the problem in such a way that the result can be applied many times without repeating the same path (Alexander, 1979, xv). According to Alexander, Ishikawa, Silverstein, Jacobson, Fikidahl-King and Angel (1977, 22), what is created by design must act in the creation of a continuous structure of the generality of its around. From this point of view, the pattern is both an interpretation and a prescription that contributes to creating a sense of place in the built environment (Alexander, 1987, 278). The value of such a pattern in architecture is the non-direct connection to specific types of buildings and addressing structural components with infinite composite capability (Salingaros, 1999). In this view, the use of pattern languages is organized, resulting from two different needs, first to understand and control a complex system, second as a design tool for functional and structural coherence (Salingaros, 2000). However, the use of the pattern in the views of Alexander and his associates has also been widely criticized (Dovey, 1990). Moreover, with the development of the concept of pattern in architecture, various methods for computer-aided design have been proposed, such as Shape grammar (Duarte, 2014), Genetic algorithms (Chu, 2006), Swarm intelligence (Hoar, Penner, & Jacob, 2002), L-system (Lindenmayer, 1968), Cellular automata (Wolfram, 2002) and other similar cases (Ozdemir & Ozdemir, 2018). That are shape-based understanding of patterns and their relationships. From this perspective, they cannot be completely related to the purposes and content of the architectural place, because they are the result of a kind of extreme “Rule-based formalism”, the outcome of the “Syntactic knowledge encoding” of architectural designs. (Cagdas, 1996). The prevalence of such an approach will practically lead to the severance of the relationship between form and content in understanding and recreating architecture. There is also the weakness based on formalism in Iranian studies in this field and most of the analysis about the evolution of Iranian houses is based on the introverted-extroverted duality and with the focus on the dominant pattern of changing the central courtyard to the side courtyard (See Haeri Mazandarani, 2009; Saraei, 2012, Aghalatifi & Hojjat, 2019). However, the important point in all these approaches is paying attention to the relationship of patterns in the form of language or algorithm. Because each complex system has a hierarchical structure in which different processes occur at different scales or levels (Mesarouie, Macko & Takahara, 1970, 34). Accordingly, any perceived weakness of the patterns can be considered the result of the lack of understanding in their compound language (Salingaros, 2000). Therefore, in this study, “conceptual patterns” have been proposed to understand the content of architecture that is placed in a deeper layer than the “Sub-level” pattern (which are directly touched in the environment). In this way, the content of the connection between the patterns is established in a conceptual way that precedes the formal nature of the patterns. The human-environment relationship should also be considered as the content in the study of the historical evolution and not a formal one. From this perspective, the built environmental concepts are the studied content. On the other hand, while many are trying to study the evolution of architecture by using external factors such as globalization, economies, politics, etc. on an urban scale (Rao, 2007; Schneider-Sliwa, 2006; Shakur, 2005; Shepotylo, 2012), seems to encounter with this evolution, the internal analysis of architecture based on the behavior and agency of the user (instead of formal analysis) is necessary to create a more humane vision.
Patterns in the conceptual level
Conceptual patterns are related to the relationships between phenomena (Chen, 1993). In recognizing the pattern, the objectives can be divided into two types: Recognition of rigid and objective cases (such as recognizing visual and auditory patterns) and recognition of abstract relationships (i.e. conceptual recognition). A set of patterns studied in recognizing a conventional pattern is identified by some common features. Similarly, a collection of conceptual patterns is determined by some common conceptual features (ibid.). In other words, conceptual patterns are a more abstract state than the perceived Sub-patterns. They have been obtained from the similarities and relationships of Sub-patterns in each category. In this way, the organization and the integration of guiding knowledge and principles in the conceptual pattern are formed in relatively specific terms (Cornell, 2014). But before searching for a more profound conceptual level, the nature of Sub-patterns, how they emerge and their examples in the body of architecture must be determined. Sub-level patterns are patterns that can be seen in early observations and evaluations and describe a single feature of space or its events. In other words, these patterns are patterns that can be seen in early observations and evaluations and describe a single feature of space or its events. They represent large cultural groups and their differences in cultures. Informal space is also a specific dimension that forms an essential part of the culture (ibid.) and it refers to the human who is always moving in space. Rapaport (1982, 88-96) also compliments his theories similar to Hall’s opinion on the division of space types. Similarly, in a residential open space, three categories of Sub-level patterns will be recognizable: fixed, semi-fixed and moving, which appear respectively in physical, physical-behavioral and behavioral order (Fig. 1).
Integrated pattern analysis
Analyzing the evolution of patterns requires a method that can integrate the collected data into a comparative framework based on a theoretical structure. Integrated analysis occurs when data elements and analysis strategies are combined during the study to achieve synergy between them in achieving a common theoretical goal (Bazeley, 2009, 432). This integration is done using different but complementary resources and in the process of forming results (Bazeley & Kemp, 2012). QCA techniques, as a kind of integrated analysis, are performed in a two-dimensional matrix; in one dimension, the variables and the other aspect the case studies concerning complementary approaches. These matrices, such as “macro-comparative” and “Small-N”, can provide a systematic comparison of cases with the help of tools and take advantage of cases and use “configuration” (Rihoux & Ragin, 2009, 31). These configuration-based comparative analysis techniques are “case-oriented” and deal with a limited number of complex cases. Each case is considered as a combination of properties, an integrated whole that should not be lost or obscured during the analysis and therefore reinforces a comprehensive view (ibid., 33). In the process of comparative analysis with configuration, the researcher is engaged in a dialogue between the relevant cases and theories. The choice of variables
(conditions and results) for the analysis must be theoretically conscious. Thus, according to various theories, QCA is in the general realm of medium-range theorizing (Smelser & Baltes, 2001, 15641-15647). Therefore, it has been very suitable for examining architectural examples. It is possible to combine aspects of structure and agency with that and reach a general historical perspective or medium-range theorizing. In the integrated analysis, different parts of the analysis are put together with a theory-based configuration.
Theoretical configuration of analysis
Theoretical configuration for the pattern transition analyst should be based on the human decision-making and environmental intervention system as the primary driver of such a process. In its intervention in the environment, man seeks conceptual ideals and in this way, it also faces limitations due to the facilities provided by the environment. Based on this, it can be said that conceptual patterns are the resultant of understood ideas and limitations. Accordingly, the manifestation of human agency in shaping the environment can be analyzed concerning the following three factors that form the integrated analytical configuration (Fig. 2).
- Conceptual patterns: are the data obtained from sampling and based on what has been said, in the integrated analysis, they are represented as short statements.
- Constraints: by creating a framework for human access to objective and subjective possibilities and situations in decision making and consequently his interventions in the environment, affects human agency in the application of social structures in shaping space and from this perspective, it is an essential factor in interpreting the action taken concerning the environment. Lawson (2005, 92) in describing a model for design issues, discusses the similar thing and assumes four fundamental, practical, formal and symbolic roles for it, that affect the producers of the design issue (customer-user-designer-legislator) in both internal and external domains. In the present study, by summarizing the producers of the design issue in the agent, i.e. man, the Constraints have been more considered in the external domain and the internal domain has been less considered in this analysis due to the functional similarity in the samples.
- Environmental concept: Concepts are the fundamental units of thought (Sartori, 1984) that one of their main functions is to connect the mind to the world. So, having a concept is about providing a way to think about something. Concepts are also used to formulate complex beliefs, desires, plans and other complex thoughts and judgments. Therefore, they play a fundamental role in explaining cognitive processes such as classification, induction inference, causal reasoning and decision-making. (Weiskopf, 2013). Thus, on the one hand, they are related to patterns and on the other hand, they are the product of decision criteria. Concepts are the free creations of human reason and their basic nature involves going beyond the level of perceptions (Blumer, 1931; Stremke & Koh, 2011). From this point of view, they are different from the conceptual patterns, which, depending on the nature of the pattern, are “limited” to perceptible objects. Thus, it can be said that concepts play the role of ideals that determine the orientation of conceptual patterns despite Constraints. Although the concepts of the unit are thought out, such units as atoms are not separable. In any concept, elements or parts of them are known as concepts in turn. The set of these elements varies from person to person and at different times in one
person. This set (variable and indefinite) is called the purpose or Intension of a concept (Marradi, 2012). In the present study, this intention of concepts is related to the decision-making process and intervention in the built environment. Therefore, the concepts of the built environment will be found as the result of the integrated analysis at this stage and will be interpreted with a complete abstraction of the perceived objects.
**Case study, sampling and initial data**
The open spaces in the houses of Tabriz have changed a lot over time, but in general, it has two types of internal and external (Keynejad & Shirazi, 2010, 17). Following the evolution of these spaces, it can be seen that many historical houses had both. In the Pahlavi era, the external courtyards were gradually dominated. By the transition to the contemporary era, with the diminishing of the spatial features of the courtyards in the pervasive apartment houses, they have become very different spaces from the past. The selection of samples in this study should make this evolution of patterns in Tabriz researchable and, at the same time, have sufficient information richness. Besides, the number of samples should be proportional to the capacity of qualitative analysis. Therefore, the samples were selected in two stages. The method in the first step is “purposive sampling”, which type is “sensitive case”. With an overview of the houses in Tabriz, three significant categories have been identified in terms of the objectives of this study. Assuming the Constitutional Revolution and the developments that led to the fall of the Qajar dynasty as a turning point in major social, political and physical changes in Tabriz, a group of examples will be the result of the traditional architecture of this city and belongs to the Qajar period and early Pahlavi. The second category has been built since the middle of the Pahlavi period and open spaces still have a strong presence in houses, but the organization of open and closed spaces is not necessarily based on the traditional pattern. The third category of contemporary Tabriz houses, being dominated by the official urban regulations and following very strong economic relations, are built in the type of apartments. In this study, these three categories of samples are named as historical, middle and contemporary houses, respectively. Initially, 4, 3, 2 and 1 samples were collected from each category, respectively, to the theoretical saturation of the samples in terms of observable patterns (Fig. 3).
In the next step, after ten samples, four samples from each category were selected with the criterion of introducing the category and used for integrated analysis. The main method of data collection is the direct and inactive observation, to complete the information in the middle samples, the structured interview method with the user. Besides, in contemporary samples, the semi-structured interview with the builder is used as the backup method. The patterns are extracted from the collected data in two steps. First, Sub-patterns are derived from existing data and then conceptual patterns that are more abstract, are explained through the identification of relationships and kinship of Sub-patterns. The way these patterns are represented at the Sub-level is important in the quality of data.
analysis and reduction. Because any attempt to quantify a pattern in a structure causes the content of the information to be considered, including two separate variables: first, the actual information and its presentation and second, how to organize this data (Salingaros, 1999). By examining the Available terms, two types of “morphological” and “textual” representations can be used for patterns (Asadpour, Faizi, Mozaaffar, Behzadfar 2015).
Thus, in the representation of patterns at the Sub-level, due to the facilitation of data understanding and more in-depth analysis, the combined method, including morphological representation by an ideogram, is used alongside textual representation. Then the conceptual patterns that are more abstract are derived from the juxtaposition of Sub-patterns in a meaningful combination. To represent these patterns, just textual representation is recognized adequate and to make it easier to refer to these patterns in the next step of the analysis; abbreviated letters are defined for each. Middle samples are the first step in extracting patterns due to the richness of the patterns both in the physical part (due to the yard with significant area and complexity) and in the behavioral part (due to the constant presence of residents) and the other two categories are studied comparing with that. Patterns taken from contemporary and middle samples are summarized in Table 1 due to the similarity of the data collecting method. The first line shows the morphological representation of Sub-patterns. The second line, which includes the combination of several Sub-patterns, is related to the conceptual pattern.
In the historical samples of Tabriz houses, due to there is no access to the original inhabitants of the house, it is not possible to capture semi-fixed and moving patterns directly. Therefore, in this category, conceptual models have been obtained in comparative-physical comparison with two other categories of samples. In such a comparison, we encounter five status of patterns: Quite similar patterns in three categories, similar conceptual patterns but the result of completely different Sub-patterns in historical samples, altered conceptual patterns (relative similarity) and finally Conceptual patterns are entirely specific to historical samples. These statuses are summarized in Table 2, with a difference from the previous table, the rows of Sub-patterns are briefed, with just patterns that are new in historical samples. In this way, a set of conceptual patterns for historical examples is also formulated.
**Pattern analysis**
In the integrated analysis of samples by the QCA method, the obtained data in the previous step that were summarized to the conceptual patterns, by being placed next to other components, will be in an integrated analysis as part of the data analysis process. The main elements of integrated analysis, including conceptual patterns (as central data), constraints and environmental concepts (preliminary results of the analysis) as well as the theoretical configuration of the analysis have already been described, integrated into Tables 3 and 4. Abbreviations are used to display the patterns and the filled cells in the table indicate the lack of a suitable pattern in the structure of the comparative table.
**Discussion and conclusion**
This study, in examining the evolution of patterns, with a critical approach to totally visual analysis of patterns, scales and relationships, brings up the need for a conceptual study of patterns. In this way, it also introduces a humanistic and deterrent view of the extreme role of architects in shaping the built environment. This research also tries to consider human’s (user’s) decisions from the perspective of his ideals, which lead to the interventions and the formation of the environment. With such a view in the qualitative analysis of three categories of samples of Tabriz that are placed in a time course, it can be seen that the combination of environmental concepts (the deepest layer of analysis), compared to what is in appearance (i.e. Sub-pattern), have
Table 1. Sub and conceptual patterns in middle and contemporary samples. Source: authors.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Conceptual patterns</th>
<th>Sub patterns</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td>Collective Space (CS)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td>Free Movement & Presence (FMP)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td>Revealing Natural Process (RNP)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td>Dominance in Perspective (DP)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td>User Aimed (Need & Authority) (UA)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td>Sign & Ornamentation Language (SOL)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td>Plant Breeding (PB)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8</td>
<td>Avoiding Raw Nature (ARN)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9</td>
<td>Individual & Social Properties (ISP)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10</td>
<td>Symmetry & Focus (SF)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>11</td>
<td>Preservation & Maintenance (PM)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12</td>
<td>Natural Form of Plant (NFP)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>13</td>
<td>Formation of Natural Elements (FNE)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>14</td>
<td>Time Attention (TA)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>15</td>
<td>Privacy & Introverted (PI)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>16</td>
<td>Individual & Social Environment Hierarchy (ISH)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>17</td>
<td>Soft Area (SA)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>18</td>
<td>Domination of Man Geometry (DMG)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>19</td>
<td>Climatic Function (CF)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>20</td>
<td>Continuing Context & Path (CCP)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>21</td>
<td>Pattern & Similarity (PS)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>22</td>
<td>Live Elements in Space (LES)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>23</td>
<td>Green Area Centrality (GAC)</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Table 2. Sub and conceptual patterns in historical samples. Source: authors.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Pattern category</th>
<th>Conceptual patterns</th>
<th>Sub patterns</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td>Natural Form of Plant (NFP)</td>
<td><img src="image1.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Plant Breeding (PB)</td>
<td><img src="image2.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Soft Area (SA)</td>
<td><img src="image3.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Free Movement & Presence (FMP)</td>
<td><img src="image4.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Collective Space (CS)</td>
<td><img src="image5.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Revealing Natural Process (RNP)</td>
<td><img src="image6.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Dominance in Perspective (DP)</td>
<td><img src="image7.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Avoiding Raw Nature (ARN)</td>
<td><img src="image8.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Climatic Function (CF)</td>
<td><img src="image9.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Domination of Man Geometry (DMG)</td>
<td><img src="image10.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Formation of Natural Elements (FNE)</td>
<td><img src="image11.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Time Attention (TA)</td>
<td><img src="image12.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Symmetry & Focus (SF)</td>
<td><img src="image13.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Individual & Social Environment Hierarchy (ISH)</td>
<td><img src="image14.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Green Area Centrality (GAC)</td>
<td><img src="image15.jpg" alt="Image" /></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
- Fewer changes. In lesser proportion, the conceptual patterns although have changed but these changes are small and they are despite the vast changes that occurred in the sub-level. Such a phenomenon
Table 3. Integrated Analysis of Representative Samples. Source: authors
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Representative Samples</th>
<th>Conceptual patterns (as the result of environmental decisions)</th>
<th>Constraints</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Behnam’s house</td>
<td>FNE - ARN</td>
<td>ISH</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Qadaki’s house</td>
<td>RNP - CF</td>
<td>GAC</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Koozeh-Kanani’s house</td>
<td>NFP - CF</td>
<td>GAC</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Mojahedi’s house</td>
<td>NFP - CF</td>
<td>GAC</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Taleghani crossroads</td>
<td>SA - TA</td>
<td>GAC - PB</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Sahand alley house</td>
<td>NFP - CF</td>
<td>SA - TA</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Farhang alley house</td>
<td>NFP - CF</td>
<td>SA - TA</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Rushdieh house</td>
<td>NFP - CF</td>
<td>SA - PB</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Mandana alley house</td>
<td>NFP - CF</td>
<td>SA-RNP</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Mandana alley house</td>
<td>NFP - CF</td>
<td>SA - PB</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Shahrivar Street house</td>
<td>CT - NFP</td>
<td>SA - RNP</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Beilan-koooh house</td>
<td>NFP - CF</td>
<td>GAC</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Row number of Environmental concepts: 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Dimensions of Man-Environment: Nature, Society, Background, Origin
- Urban fabric
- Building technique
- Climatic conditions
- Floor restriction
- Access restriction
- Form restrictions
- Urban Criteria
- Economy
- Car Traffic
- Housing Trading
suggests that despite major changes, making the place (which is more conceptual than space) has relatively a stable structure or contents over time in societies such as Tabriz, which despite the rapid changes of the present era, can change slowly. Therefore, the evolution of the conceptual level (environmental concepts and conceptual patterns) will be much slower than the Sub-level. Thus, the evolution of architectural patterns in the open space of houses in Tabriz should be sought more in changing constraints. This is because changing constraints on the results of environmental concepts have led to physical changes. top-down urbanization, one-aspect economic vision, the priority of car movement and housing commercialization have replaced urban fabric dynamics, covert traditions in building technology and the priority of coordination with climatic conditions. Based on this, three statuses can be identified for the evolution of conceptual patterns: continuous, change of position and total change (See Table 4).
In the status of continuous, conceptual patterns emerge in the open spaces in the same way as in the past, or at least with a slight change in the Sub-level pattern, they continue to be present in the open space of houses. In the status of change of position, due to the change in the composition of the constraints, the conceptual pattern no longer has the opportunity to appear in open space and emerges with other Sub-patterns in other available residential or non-residential spaces. In the status of total change, conceptual patterns have generally been removed from human relation with the environment and this removing may be accompanied by an alternative to another pattern. Such changes, while small, pave the way for cultural change and change of values. The relationship between these three statuses and the dimensions of human relationships with the environment (environmental concepts and conceptual patterns) is also significant. The predominant state in the dimension of origin is Total change, while in nature we are faced with a change of position. There is also relative stability in the background and society. The above formulation of the evolution of the patterns introduces new necessities in future research in this field that although the general overview of the qualitative analysis in the present study reveals new contexts, it does not provide an opportunity to study them in detail and should be examined in separate studies.
**Endnotes**
1. The interpretive approach to social Research has been introduced by “Norman Blaikie”, which is a combination of hermeneutics, phenomenology, ethnomethodology, ethnography, data theory, and biography, in which each study has its own emphasis in the aspect of research objectives, research logic, data collection, analysis methods (Blaikie, 2017, 313).
2. Qualitative Comparative Analysis
3. Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary
4. Constantinos A. Doxiadis
5. Spencer founded the doctrine of organisms in sociology. The division
of societies based on organic and mechanical by Durkheim is similar.
6. Small-N is an alternative research method that involves sequential observations of single people or small groups before, during, and after a period of intervention.
10. Ideogram is a graphic symbol that displays an idea and can replace a group of letters that are part together based on spoken sounds.
11. The roots of this type of quadruple division can also be found in the opinions of various thinkers such as Muhammad Iqbal (1970, 48), Motahhari (1999, 233-70), and Allameh Jafari (1999, 12). The difference is that in this study, instead of the four element of gods’ history’ society’ nature, the expressions of origin’ background’ society’ nature are used to convey a more general meaning.
12. Environmental concepts have already been studied in another part of another study on open spaces in traditional Iranian houses, which bears many similarities in the findings of this section. This indicates a conceptual connection both in the temporal dimension (the evolution of the patterns desired in this research) and in the geographical dimension of a civilizational range (intended in the previous research).
Reference list
• Saraei, M. H. (2012) From houses to housing as a model of urban residential development from family collections (neighborhoods) to apartment blocks. Urban Research and Planning, 10(3), 23-42
COPYRIGHTS
Copyright for this article is retained by the author(s), with publication rights granted to the Bagh-e Nazar Journal. This is an open-access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution License (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). |
The Loosening Role of Polyphony: Texture and Formal Functions in Mozart’s “Haydn” Quartets
Olga Ellen Bakulina
Volume 32, Number 1-2, 2012
URI: https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1018577ar
DOI: https://doi.org/10.7202/1018577ar
Article abstract
This essay demonstrates that texture can act as a form-defining factor by focusing on one specific textural type: imitative polyphony. Mozart’s six quartets dedicated to Haydn illustrate this claim. Building on William Caplin’s form-functional theory and his distinction between tight-knit and loose organization, imitative texture is shown to serve two purposes: as a loosening device, and as a means of textural and phrase-structural contrast. To deepen our understanding of polyphony’s formal and expressive roles, two new concepts are proposed: contrast pair and imitative presentation. The contrast-pair principle is then explored in select Viennese quartets by Mozart’s contemporaries.
THE LOOSENING ROLE OF POLYPHONY:
TEXTURE AND FORMAL FUNCTIONS
IN MOZART’S “HAYDN” QUARTETS
Olga (Ellen) Bakulina
INTRODUCTION
Mozart wrote the six quartets dedicated to Joseph Haydn (K. 387, 421, 428, 458, 464, and 465) from 1782 through early 1785, shortly after Mozart had become particularly interested in counterpoint. This interest was prompted by his involvement in 1782 with the music of both J. S. Bach and G. F. Handel, when Mozart attended Baron van Swieten’s Sunday afternoon gatherings devoted to the music of these composers. Mozart arranged some of J. S. Bach’s fugues for string ensembles and started to write fugues himself—for example, the Fugue in C minor for two pianos, K. 426 (Küster 1996, 133). The six “Haydn” quartets, published by Artaria in 1785 as op. 10, are the first works of this genre to be composed after this “revolution … in his creative activity” (Alfred Einstein, quoted by Stanley Sadie 1964, 23). In this essay, I explore the role of counterpoint, for which my preferred term is polyphony, and the interaction between polyphony and formal structure in these quartets. I show that polyphony acts as a destabilizing force that contributes to the distinction between tight-knit (stable) and loose (unstable) formal categories.
Contrapuntal writing had already had prominence in the genre of the string quartet before Mozart. In general, the fugue retained its importance in the conservative late eighteenth-century Austria, as opposed to other European lands, where fugal writing had gone out of vogue. Haydn’s opus 20, for example, contains fugal finales (in nos. 2, 5, and 6). Other contemporary composers, such as I. Holzbauer, M. Monn, C. Ordonez, and G. C. Wagenseil, wrote
1 In the words of Stanley Sadie (1964, 23) Mozart’s exposure to fugues gave him “a spell of interest in writing contrapuntally.” Indeed, Warren Kirkendale (1979, 162) speaks about this time in Mozart’s life as “the fugue years.”
2 Though the terms polyphony and counterpoint are often used interchangeably, I prefer polyphony for a textural type. Their difference lies in the difference between part and voice. The distinction between parts and voices is analogous to William Rothstein’s distinction between notes and tones (1991, 293–5). Polyphony is the relationship between parts, which are literal lines written in the score and performed by different instruments or human voices. By contrast, counterpoint, especially in Schenkerian theory, is the relationship between voices, which are abstract theoretical constructs (for instance, the structural upper voice). Therefore, polyphony is a category of texture, while counterpoint is not.
3 Alfred Einstein ([1945] 1962, 175–77) discusses in some detail the influence of Haydn’s fugue-finales in op. 20 on Mozart’s quartets K. 168–73. According to him, this influence was at first somewhat unsatisfactory in Mozart’s works and reached truly individual creative results only in his “Haydn” quartets.
fugues in both quartets and other chamber works, as well as orchestral pieces.\footnote{In eighteenth-century Vienna, the fugue was important not only compositionally, but also theoretically (Fux’s Gradus was published there in 1725). See Kirkendale (1979) on the social and compositional role of fugue in Viennese music of the time. As both Sadie (1964, 24) and Kirkendale (1979, 163) note, however, complete fugues differ substantially from fugues (or fugatos) included in sonata movements. One finds the latter in K. 387/i, to be analyzed in this essay. Reginald Barrett-Ayres (1974, 122–26) emphasizes the connections between fugues by composers of the time.} The eighteenth-century theorist H. C. Koch even argues that “a strict quartet must be in the fugal style” (Mara Parker 2002, 21).\footnote{Edward Klorman (2013, 28) emphasizes that Koch’s main idea is not so much fugal style itself, but rather the dominance of textural exchange. This broadening of the textural norm in the quartet, however, includes textures other than polyphony, since in some cases the parts exchange the leading role quite rarely, such as every few measures.} However, in the works of Mozart’s contemporaries, some of which will be analyzed at the end of this paper, movements that are not fully fledged fugues are more often homophonic than polyphonic. Parker (183), who calls the polyphonic quality of quartets a \textit{debate}, notes that, contrary to a widespread belief, debates are rather rare in the eighteenth-century quartet literature. Furthermore, even when composers do employ polyphony, its role rarely approaches the structural significance it has in Mozart’s works. The uniqueness of Mozart’s imitative writing lies in the specific kind of interaction he uses between quasi-fugal polyphonic devices and non-fugal forms, such as sonata form, large ternary, and other standardized formal types of the time.
The importance of texture in Classical chamber music, and in the string quartet in particular, has been so widely recognized that one can hardly find a mention of a chamber genre without at least a tangential remark about texture. Several recent studies contribute significantly to the topic of texture in the late eighteenth-century quartets.\footnote{See Maud Alice Trimmer (1981); Mara Parker (2002); and Dean Sutcliffe (2003). All three works concentrate specifically on texture in quartets. Janet Levy 1982 is a more general study of texture and is not confined to any particular stylistic era. Ben Duane’s (2012) and Edward Klorman’s (2013) dissertations engage in analysis of texture in eighteenth-century quartets.} Although some of these studies relate form to texture, this association has not yet been scrutinized to the degree it deserves. For instance, little has been done to propose any clearly defined and consistently found \textit{structural role} that texture can play along with other musical dimensions such as harmony, tonal design, or rhythm.\footnote{A work that proposes a structural function of texture is Wallace Berry (1976). He devotes a separate section to the role of texture in form: “Texture … is of course an essential element by which thematic statement is rendered distinctive and expressive” (236). His analytical remarks show how changes of texture (density, type, etc.) delineate formal boundaries. Though he recognizes the structural importance of texture, in this section he carefully avoids any examples from common-practice music, with the exception of a quintet by Brahms.} Within the remarkably animated discussion of form in the last couple of decades, texture has certainly played an implicit role, though it has not assumed major significance. In particular, texture influences such notions as Caplin’s (1998) evaded cadence, the accompanimental overlap, and premature dominant arrival, James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy’s (2006) medial caesura, and William Rothstein’s (1989) lead-in.\footnote{See Olga Bakulina (2010, 20–21) for more on textural significance of these concepts.}
Example 1. Types of polyphonic quartets and their potential for contributing to loose formal structures.
(a) Non-imitative polyphony: W. A. Mozart, String Quartet in B-flat Major, K. 458/iv, mm. 17–24
(b) Overlapping imitative polyphony: String Quartet in G Major, K. 387/i, mm. 10–13
(c) Non-overlapping imitative polyphony: String Quartet in G Major, K. 387/i, mm. 5–8
The purpose of the present article is to propose that texture does have a structural function as related to form. Relying on Caplin’s theory of formal functions, I use his concept of looser formal structure—formal destabilization—to show that the texture of imitative polyphony is a strong indicator of formal loosening. Metrical conflicts created by imitations are among the strongest means of such a loosening. Therefore polyphonic texture most often appears in formal areas that normally require loose structure—that is, the medial formal functions. Moreover, polyphony helps to create contrast between two formal sections that display similar motivic material but differ in formal organization and texture. Such pairs of formal sections are termed contrast pairs. They may be found at one level of form-functional hierarchy (simple pairs) or at multiple levels simultaneously (embedded pairs). The notion of contrast pair helps us to examine the formal logic and expressive force of Mozart’s pieces; in many instances, the most polyphonically dense passages are also the ones that possess the highest rhetorical intensity and indeed serve as a climax, whether local or global (for the entire movement).
This study focuses on formal areas other than the development section of the sonata form, because the use of imitation in non-developmental areas is less predictable than in developmental. The core section of a Mozart development is very often imitative, whereas in other formal regions, such as the exposition, imitative polyphony can occur at various points. This relative unpredictability is precisely our concern. I finish by exploring the contrast-pair principle in select Viennese quartets by Mozart’s contemporaries: Carl Dittersdorf, Joseph Haydn, and Johann Baptist Vanhal. In all of the examples, including those
---
9 Loose formal structure (Caplin’s term) is the destabilization or weakening of tightly knit formal types such as period or sentence. The main characteristics of loose form are modulation, sequence, chromaticism, asymmetrical grouping structure, and non-conventional formal types. See Caplin (2009).
10 Medial functions include the transition and subordinate themes among the theme functions, as well as the continuation and contrasting middle (and also sometimes consequent) among the phrase functions. See Caplin (1998) for a fuller explanation of this classification.
11 This refers to all the instrumental genres in which Mozart worked, not only the string quartets.
by Mozart, I concentrate on movements that are not fugues but are written in one of the standard Classical formal types and only include fugal or other polyphonic elements. Though Caplin’s theory serves as the conceptual basis for this study, I will refer at times to concepts from Hepokoski and Darcy’s sonata theory, to compare different analytical possibilities of the same musical excerpts.
My purpose is to explore the relationship between texture and form, and not texture as an isolated notion. Therefore, rather than propose a detailed typology of textures, I will give only a general definition of polyphony and its several broad categories crucial for a study to form–texture relationships. Figure 1 summarizes these categories. By polyphony, as distinguished from homophony, I understand a texture with more than one line of melodic individuality and structural independence. This independence consists of the line’s rhythmic, melodic-directional, phrase-structural, or metric profile contrasting with other simultaneous lines at any given stretch of time. Polyphony is further classified as imitative and non-imitative. Imitative polyphony may be either overlapping, where each following voice enters before the previous voice has finished playing the melody that is imitated, or non-overlapping, in which one voice comes in with a melody upon the end of this melody in another voice. Example 1 provides instances of the three types of texture relevant to the following analytical examples. Example 1a shows two textural strands, upper and lower, featuring different motivic content; 1b has a melody imitated by the two violins and shifted in time; and 1c features a short motive imitated twice without a temporal overlap. It is the imitative subcategory that primarily concerns us here.
**Form–texture relationship: Texture and formal processes**
Let us now see how various textural types relate to formal structure. I first consider the distinction between tight-knit and loose types of formal organization. I then show that imitative polyphony serves as one of the factors responsible for loose organization through the mediation of grouping structure and hypermeter.
The concept of tight-knit and loose formal structure, which originated in the theories of Arnold Schoenberg and Erwin Ratz, has received considerable development in Caplin’s functional theory. The concept concerns formal processes rather than formal types and refers to phrase-structural instability, asymmetry, and unconventional grouping. On the distinction between formal types and formal processes, see Caplin (1998, 9; 2009, 30–34).
12 Though the individuality of a melodic line is often a matter of individual judgment, one can broadly understand it as certain independence of a melody from others sounded at the same time. Brent Auerbach (2008, 278) offers to see such independence as “a function of listener attention span.”
13 Schoenberg (1967) introduces his notions of fest (tight) and locker (looser) formal structures in his *Fundamentals of Musical Composition*; these notions were further developed by Ratz (1973).
organization. The key aspects that indicate loose form are modulation, sequence, chromaticism, asymmetrical grouping structure, and non-conventional formal types. Although not incorporated in table 1, Caplin (1998, 75) also mentions various textural devices, particularly imitation, as one of the loosening factors of the contrasting middle of a small ternary. However, polyphonic texture, especially overlapping imitations and certain contrapuntal devices, such as canonic sequence, is a powerful organizational force that promotes loose structure.
Table 1. Table of Musical Aspects That Contribute to Tight-knit and Loose Organization
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th></th>
<th>Tight-knit</th>
<th>Loose</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Home key, prolongation of tonic, diatonic harmony, strong cadence (PAC),</td>
<td>Distant keys and modulation, sequences, chromatic harmony, cadential</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>symmetrical grouping structure, uniformity of motivic material, thematic</td>
<td>evasion or absence of cadence, asymmetrical grouping structure, diversity of motivic material, non-conventional formal types</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>conventionality (period or, slightly less tight-knit, sentence)</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Based on Caplin (2009, 38)
Table 1 illustrates that grouping structure is a primary factor used to distinguish between tight-knit and loose formal organization. Caplin (1998, 9) defines grouping structure as “a hierarchical arrangement of discrete, perceptually significant time spans … [E]ach group … can be identified most neutrally in terms of its measure length.” At the smallest hierarchical level—that is, the phrase level—the groups are melodic and harmonic passages with a perceptible beginning and end. To establish the beginning and ending point between groups, one needs a more or less clearly articulated boundary between the two. This boundary can be a caesura of some kind, such as a longer note value or a rest. As Ratz (1973) explains, simultaneous rest points are essential for homophonic texture. But caesuras are not the only defining aspect here; a boundary can be heard, for example, when a phrase is immediately repeated, in which case a group is perceived as “the next one” as soon as a repetition has started. Using the terms of Fred Lerdahl and Ray Jackendoff (1983), who theorize grouping structure in a very detailed way, grouping preference rule (GPR) 6 is at work here: the similarity, or parallelism, between two or more melodic segments renders these segments two separate groups.
Example 2a provides an illustration of a clearly pronounced grouping structure. In this melody, one can easily comprehend the first two measures as one
---
15 Ratz (1973, 44) says, “For homophonic writing, it is characteristic to have … caesuras achieved through half and authentic cadences (where all the voices cadence simultaneously and in the same manner at the end of each section, in contrast with polyphony where such a cadence happens in principle only at the end of a piece)” (translation mine). Here he refers to caesuras as cadences, but it is possible to understand caesura in a broader way and on various hierarchical levels, from the smallest phrase level to the largest sections of a movement.
16 It seems relevant here to allude to a term proposed by Koch in his Versuch, written at about the same time as Mozart’s “Haydn” quartets: Ruhepunkt des Geistes. By this, Koch means a perceived, but not literally present, rest or caesura between two adjacent phrases, a kind of perceptual pause, without any notated pause in the actual music (Koch [1782–93] 1983, 1).
17 The exact definition of GPR 6 reads: “Where two or more segments of the music can be construed as parallel, they preferably form parallel parts of groups” (Lerdahl and Jackendoff 1983, 51).
group and the second two as another group, with the syncopation slightly shifting the beginning of the second group (which would normally start on the downbeat of m. 3). Let us now imagine this melody hypothetically in a homophonic texture, resembling that of a piano piece, as in example 2b. Although the added voice does not exactly coincide rhythmically with the principal voice, its rhythm gives no new grouping details and so remains in the structural purview of the soprano line. However, the added voice does provide some new information, namely harmony, that can affect our perception of the line’s grouping structure: The linear 5–6 motion and the resulting sequence, in which the model is one bar long, adds a one-bar-group “feeling” to the two-bar grouping of the melody.
The grouping is always more challenging in imitative vs. homophonic textures, as a result of the temporal conflicts between imitative parts. If, for example, one adds another part that plays the previously examined melody shifted in time by one measure (example 2c), the two parts enter in conflicting temporal relations: the second violin groups mm. 2 and 3, with the expectation that measures 4 and 5 will also be grouped together, while the first violin has the opposite grouping—mm. 1 and 2, then mm. 3 and 4. Each part has its most active segment at the time when the other part finds itself at rest. As a result, the phrase boundary in one part conflicts with that in the other; in other words, the beginning of a group is found at different temporal points in two different voices. It is certainly possible to hear one of the two imitative voices—for example, the du—as defining the grouping of the passage and the other voice as subordinate: the same refers to the hypermetrical conflict between the two voices, to be addressed below. Nonetheless, the grouping conflict resulting from the imitation is always perceptible and produces a loose formal situation.
Finally, in the actual passage in Mozart’s quartet (example 2d), one finds two additional parts set against the ones we have been considering. These additional voices further obfuscate the grouping structure because there are no caesuras and their quasi-imitative relationship. Moreover, the four voices providing full harmonies, the grouping conflicts of the two-bar units in individual melodies enter into an even more complex relationship with the one-bar sequential structure of the harmonic progression.
Another instance of conflicting grouping structure in a two-voice combination is found in the canonic sequence in example 3. Again, two parts, the violins, each contain a two-bar grouping structure and conflict with each other as a result of the temporal shift of the imitative combination. This instance is also further complicated by harmonic structure—the descending-fifth sequence—in which each harmony takes one measure and thus suggests a one-bar grouping structure against the conflicting two-bar grouping of the top voices. Moreover, the harmonic progression alone contributes to the loose character of the passage since, according to Caplin, sequences are a primary loosening technique (see table 1).18
In addition to a grouping conflict, we also find a hypermetric conflict in the two-voice imitative examples (examples 2c and 3). If, for instance, we adopt a beginning-accented hypermetrical pattern at the two-measure level in each voice in example 2c, we will hear mm. 1 and 3 as accented in the dux, while the comes has the opposite accentuation—mm. 2 and 4.19 An end-accented hypermetrical version of the two-measure motive (second measures of the group as a hyper-downbeat) gives the opposite result: now the odd measures are accented
---
18 Unlike all my other examples, this is a development section, and thus the passage is formally loose.
19 Danuta Mirka (2009, 189) discusses this metrical conflict as a displacement dissonance, which she calls imitations “per thesin et arsin,” adopting the terms introduced by the eighteenth-century theorist Wilhelm Marpurg.
by the *comes.* Using Joel Lester’s distinction between various metric levels (Lester 1986), we can speak of this conflict being produced at the level of the dotted half notes: the upper part groups these notes beginning in m. 1, while the lower part begins in m. 2.
In listening to passages similar to the ones just examined, one’s perception of grouping and metre may rely on different musical attributes. For instance, one may hear the two imitative voices as the source of temporal conflicts, thus implying that the two possess equal importance in creating the grouping structure of the passage. Alternatively, one can also hear the *dux,* as determining the grouping structure, while the other voices, being “led” by the first, are metrically subordinate to it. Another possible approach is to rely on the hypermetre created by the harmonic motion and not by any individual voices.
Perhaps the best description of elusive sense of temporal conflicts in imitations arises in *shadow metre,* a term coined by Frank Samarotto (1999) and subsequently developed by Rothstein (1995). Shadow metre is a metrical pattern different from, and heard at the same time with, the dominant pattern. According to Rothstein (1995, 167), “a shadow meter is a secondary meter formed by a series of regularly recurring accents, when those accents do not coincide with the prevailing meter (or hypermeter).” In the case of examples 2c, the violin is metrically dominant and the viola provides an alternative simultaneous metrical pattern—a shadow metre. The same happens in example 3, where the leading metrical role belongs to the first violin, by virtue of its temporal primacy, and the shadow metre is found in the second violin. In both examples, the shadow metre might be called more specifically an imitative shadow.
To briefly summarize, imitative polyphony contributes to loosening formal structure, and the relationship between texture and form is mediated by
---
20 *Hyperdownbeat,* Jonathan Kramer’s term, denotes an accented timepoint within a hypermeasure. Put differently, it is a measure that functions as a downbeat at a hypermetrical level (Kramer 1988, 86).
21 It should be noted that, in non-imitative polyphony, hypermetrical conflicts are generally less aurally significant than in imitative. Many examples can be found in the slow movements of Mozart’s quartets, where a dominating melodic line is supplemented with other melodies that conform to the metrical profile of the main line.
22 To rely on the hypermetre created by the harmonic structure, as opposed to the individual parts, would be the preferred approach of most Schenkerian analysts.
23 Of course, the part that enters first is not absolutely always hypermetrically strong. Other factors can determine hypermetrical strength of a beat, but in the majority of cases, the *dux* is indeed placed at a hypermetrically strong moment.
grouping structure and hyper-metre. To associate the concept of tight-knit/knit-loose form with musical expression, imitative polyphony signals instability and often actively participates in the building of a climax. I will now turn to specific examples of how Mozart uses the loosening potential of polyphonic texture in his “Haydn” quartets.
**Texture and Formal Functions: Polyphony as a Means of Contrast**
Both of the imitative passages examined so far appear in medial formal regions: example 2d is the continuation of a subordinate theme; and example 3 is a development section. In fact, Mozart uses imitative texture in medial formal regions quite frequently. Thus, from the form-functional viewpoint, imitative polyphony behaves the same way as do other loosening techniques that, according to Caplin (1998, 17), characterize medial functionality at various hierarchical levels, such as continuations (at the phrase level), transitions (at the thematic level), and developments (at the full-movement level). Sometimes one finds imitative texture in concluding regions, especially at the theme level—in the subordinate theme. Conversely, the initial function, stable and tight-knit by definition, rarely contains polyphonic elements.
A close reading of the quartets shows that, with regard to motivic content, polyphonic medial regions almost always employ previously stated material. As opposed to the first statement, tight-knit, homophonic, and belonging to an initial function, the second statement is normally looser and polyphonic and belongs to a medial formal function. I will refer to such pairs of motivic statements as *contrast pairs*. Table 2 provides the scheme of a contrast pair. Thus, motivic return usually produces imitative polyphony; and vice versa, imitations signal a motivic return. An important aspect of a contrast pair is the thematic initiation of the first (stable) component.
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Material</th>
<th>Formal Functionality</th>
<th>Internal Formal Organization</th>
<th>Texture</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>First statement</td>
<td>Initial</td>
<td>Tight-knit</td>
<td>Homophonic</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Second statement</td>
<td>Medial or concluding</td>
<td>Loose</td>
<td>Polyphonic</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Certainly this representation of the contrast-pair principle is very schematic; not every pair exhibits the same degree of absolutely discrete formal and textural types. Rather, this is an abstract model to which some specific examples conform in greater degree than others. The stronger the formal and
---
24 As I will show later in this study, the use of imitative polyphony in medial formal regions is not limited to Mozart’s output; it is quite typical for many of his contemporaries’ music.
25 Caplin (1998, 17) categorizes the subordinate theme as the concluding function within the entire sonata exposition, where the main theme is the initial function and the transition is the medial.
26 The imitative presentation, a polyphonic initial section, to be defined below, is an exception to this rule.
textural opposition between the constituents of a pair, the more these components express the abstract contrast-pair principle.
The main theme and the transition of the quartet K. 387/i (example 4) exemplify a typical contrast pair. The main theme, the hybrid type 3, begins with a four-measure compound basic idea (c.b.i.), presented in a chordal texture in which the first violin is the leading part. The main theme represents a normative tight-knit theme type; the deceptive cadence represents a small departure from a tight-knit model. The transition, in contrast, is more sophisticated and unstable. It restates the basic idea of the main theme in the second violin, while the first violin imitates the melody at the one-measure time interval, creating an overlapping imitation. The result is an imitative presentation, a polyphonic subtype of the presentation function. A loose situation is thus immediately created and strongly sets the transition in opposition to the stable and tight-knit main theme. The following continuation phrase augments the instability by featuring a canonic sequence in mm. 13–14, a fragmentation process, and harmonic instability (note the chromatic line in imitation in m. 16–20). All this activity produces remarkable intensification, which resolves at the half cadence in m. 20.
This first example shows an imitative formal region, the transition, which restates thematic material previously introduced homophonically. Let us classify this type of a contrast pair as a simple, theme-level contrast pair; the term simple distinguishes it from the “embedded” type, to be discussed in the following example. One finds simple main-theme/transition pairs very often in the quartets; most of the examples include imitative presentation in the second member of a contrast pair.
Before proceeding with the next analysis, a pause is appropriate to define an imitative presentation. Essentially, the term denotes a polyphonic type of the presentation function in sentential designs. As defined by Caplin (1998, 35), a presentation phrase consists of a two-bar basic idea and its immediate repetition, often with harmonic and/or melodic modifications. In the quartets explored here, many repetitions are achieved by placing the same idea in different parts, with an overlap between subsequent voices. The defining feature of an imitative presentation is the absence of a clearly perceived boundary between the basic idea and its repetition. The formal organization of an imitative presentation is always looser than that of a usual presentation. An imitative presentation is among the more effective loosening devices in the quartets, and therefore appears only in those regions that are usually unstable in their formal
---
27 To economize space, I will refer to movement numbers by a slash and a roman numeral after the Köchel number; so, for example, K. 387/i signifies “first movement of the quartet K. 387.”
28 Hybrids are tight-knit formal types that combine the traits of period and sentence. For the classification of hybrids, see Caplin (1998, 59–63).
29 This presentation can also be viewed as an expanded basic idea (b.i.): the b.i. in mm. 11–12 expanded through the imitation in mm. 12–13. However, I prefer the imitative presentation view, since this presentation type is common for transitions and frequently serves for various metric and formal deviations such as extensions and compressions, while a compressed b.i. occurs much less often and is rather an exception in the quartets.
organization—transition and subordinate theme. I will show more imitative presentations in the analyses to be presented below (see examples 5, 6, and 8).
Returning to the analytical examination of contrast pairs, in K. 465/i (the so-called Dissonance Quartet), example 5 offers another theme-level contrast pair. The main theme, organized as a compound period, consists of two sentences, the second of which is extended. The texture is a classic instance of homophony. The formal, textural, and metrical stability of this theme is juxtaposed with the much more destabilized transition (mm. 45ff). The latter builds an imitative presentation based on the main theme material. The basic idea is imitated by all the parts in the ascending order, from the cello to the first violin, and all of them “flow into” the continuation, also densely polyphonic, without any caesura.30
This example, however, shows a more complex structure than do all the previous examples. If we consider the cello part beginning in m. 31 a countermelody
30 Klorman (2013, 212) calls this imitative entry of all the parts a “module of patterned activity,” which, in his view, is an example of Lerdahl and Jackendoff’s MPR 5d (pattern of articulation).
to the first violin, and thus a polyphonic element, we are faced with a lower-level contrast pair within the main theme, between the completely homophonic antecedent and the slightly more polyphonically developed consequent. In this case, this quartet presents an *embedded contrast pair*—one that operates at the phrase level and at the theme level simultaneously. Figure 2 summarizes this structure.
Having examined some theme-level contrast pairs, I now turn to groups of three thematic units, built on the same principle of textural and form-functional contrast. Such groups are found in the so-called monothematic movements, those in which the main and subordinate themes share the same material.Interestingly, the pair comprising main-theme/subordinate-theme almost never occurs alone in the “Haydn” quartets: the two themes are always mediated by another section, the transition. This yields three formal sections following each other and employing the same material; that material is given a progressively looser embodiment with each new occurrence.
Example 6, K. 464/iv, is one of such instances. Although the main theme contains some polyphonic attributes (the two violins in the continuation phrase), they do not contribute to any instability of formal structure. The theme exhibits a compound, sixteen-measure sentence with no phrase-structural, harmonic, or other loosening elements. In contrast, the transition shows more signs of loose structure. Although its presentation (mm. 17–24) preserves the symmetrical, eight-measure stricture, it contains imitations of the basic idea in the second violin and viola, thus acquiring some elements of an imitative presentation. The following continuation brings three different canonic sequences that blur the metric grid almost to the point of losing a sense of downbeat. The presentation and the continuation thus form a phrase-level contrast pair embedded within the large-scale contrast group of the themes. The subordinate theme also assumes a loose character: it starts with an imitative presentation of five (!) bars, which is immediately repeated, and further destabilizes the
---
31 Strictly speaking, the transition, according to Caplin (1998), is not a “theme”; only the main and subordinate regions receive the theme status. But since the transition occupies the medial position between the initial main theme and the concluding subordinate, the function of the transition is “interthematic”: at the theme level, as opposed to the phrase level.
32 One of the most recent commentaries on this movement is Ivanovitch 2010. Ivanovitch explores the recursive elements—elements of repetition—in the generally goal-oriented motion of sonata form. He contends that the remarkable motivic economy of the movement, its mono-thematicism, contributes to its recursive nature.
33 In Hepokoski and Darcy’s terms, the MC in m. 39 is somewhat problematic: only the upper part has a true caesura, while the other parts continue to play past this moment. In case one does not hear m. 39 as an MC, m. 40 does not launch the S, and the exposition if continuous. On continuous exposition, see Hepokoski and Darcy (2006, 51–64).
Example 6. Mozart, String Quartet in A Major, K. 464/iv, main theme, transition, and subordinate theme (cont’d on next page).
music by intense fragmentation (one-bar segments in the melody). Figure 3 summarizes this contrast group at both the phrase and the theme level.
The contrast groups discussed so far feature a main theme as their first, stable constituent, largely because the main theme is normally the most tightly-knit theme in a sonata exposition. I will now show several less typical instances where the first theme of a subordinate theme group fulfills the function of the stable constituent of a pair; the second theme develops the material and loosens the structure of the first. In all of these instances, the first subordinate theme introduces new material, rather than borrowing it from previous sections; the situation supports the idea of thematic initiation being essential for constructing a contrast pair.
K. 464/i (example 7) presents such a contrast pair within the subordinate group. The first theme of the group (mm. 37–44), an eight-measure hybrid type 4 (c.b.i. plus consequent), seems almost too simple both formally and texturally. The second subordinate theme (mm. 45–61) restates the original basic idea in the second violin, but now it serves as a basis for an imitative presentation. Although the second violin dominates melodically and metrically, its conflict with the first violin nonetheless produces some destabilization in comparison with the preceding theme. This destabilization is heightened in the continuation phrase. The time interval of imitation continuously decreases in the three upper parts, until the passage finally reaches the cadential phrase (m. 58). In this passage, extraordinarily, the 3/4 metre breaks down almost completely (only the slurring in the first violin continues to support the notated 3/4 metre). The chain of suspensions in the second violin and viola suggests articulation; the same is true of the sequential pattern in the first violin.
The unmediated juxtaposition of the two themes enhances their structural and
---
34 In some sense, the subordinate theme restores stability by introducing imitations at the time interval of a full measure, which provides more metrical clarity than the transition does, especially in its continuation phrase.
35 Contrast pairs formed by two subordinate themes fall under the category of “theme and expanded variant” in Hepokoski and Darcy’s terms. In this type of the S, the strategy is to “launch S as a simple parallel period, sentence, or other brief, closed structure … and then to submit it to florid, expanded version” (Hepokoski and Darcy 2006, 129). This technique, as they acknowledge, is especially typical for Mozart.
36 This continuation is analyzed in example 6d to show the grouping-structure conflicts produced by imitative texture.
37 Thanks to Edward Klorman for bringing to my attention, in a private conversation, this metrically unusual quality of the passage.
rhetorical contrast.\textsuperscript{38} A similar situation—two subordinate themes creating a contrast pair—occurs in K. 428/iv, not shown here: in this instance, the second constituent (subordinate theme 2) displays non-imitative polyphony and thus is considerably more stable in phrase structure and metre.
As any definition based on strict conceptual distinctions, the definition of contrast-pair is somewhat rigid, as opposed to the flexibility of actual musical practice. The following two examples may be viewed as testing the boundary of the definition. In them, at least one aspect of the contrast-pair principle, presented in table 2, is absent or weakened. Nonetheless, these instances offer a useful way to explain two sections sharing the same motivic material.
K. 428/i, example 8, exhibits two such sections: the transition and the subordinate theme. The transition (mm. 12–23), in its continuation phrase, introduces a motive that initially does not attract attention, the descending motive in the first violin, mm. 20–22. Following the half cadence in m. 24, the subordinate theme employs the same motive to build an imitative presentation (mm. 24–8).\textsuperscript{39} The transition features a thin, generally homophonic texture, although a short non-imitative dialogue takes place among the upper parts.
\textsuperscript{38} By two themes, I mean the first and second constituents of the subordinate group, not two different motivic entities.
\textsuperscript{39} In Hepokosky and Darcy’s terms, m. 24 is not a subordinate theme yet. Rather, this exposition displays a trimodular block: m. 24 does not offer an MC and thus does not usher in the S; then a V:PAC MC comes in m. 40, whereupon the S is launched. Caplin (1998, 274n16) views this exposition
Intersections
The texture of the imitative presentation contrasts with the preceding music and emphasizes the subordinate theme as substantially richer in both metre and phrase structure. The rest of this theme develops the descending motive imitatively until well into the cadential phrase (m. 36). I see this pair as exceptional, primarily because the first constituent, the transition, by definition neither tight-knit nor stable, normally destabilizes the structure and heightens the expressive force of the music. Therefore the opposition tight-knit/loose is lacking in this pair (although the textural contrast of homophony/polyphony is present).
A final example draws from the famous fugal finale to the quartet K. 387; the fugal setting makes it even more unusual. The movement is in sonata form, in which each of the major thematic groups is built as a fugal exposition as having a non-modulating transition (mm. 12–24), since no subsequent event offers an HC or dominant arrival required to end the transition; in my own analysis, I prefer this reading.
Example 8. Mozart, String Quartet in E-flat Major, K. 428/i, transition and subordinate theme
Hepokoski and Darcy (2006, 139) give this movement as an example of the “learned-style S.” While this is true, they do not mention that the P is also in the learned style, i.e., fugal. It is this rela-
The main theme (example 9a) includes four entries of a four-note subject; the transition uses imitative texture as well, but does not create any standard polyphonic form; and the subordinate theme (mm. 52–91, example 9b) returns to the fugal principle—however, this time it is a double fugue, which starts with a new subject (mm. 52–70) and later brings back the subject of the main theme.\footnote{Using Schubert and Neidhöfer’s definition, this is the third type of double fugue, the type that first displays only one subject, then introduces another one late in the piece (Schubert and Neidhöfer (2003)).}
Example 9. Mozart, String Quartet in G Major, K. 387/iv
tionship of the two themes that makes the movement particularly ingenuous. Mirka (2009) discusses this movement in relation to tactus and topic.
The two themes, therefore, share the same material—the subject of the main theme.
This motivic relatedness of the two themes allows us to view them as a contrast pair, although, in the absence of conventional Classical formal types, we must rely on other formal criteria derived from fugal form. Compared to a single-subject fugue, a double fugue is a more contrapuntally complex and a less predictable formal type, in the same way that a loosely organized Classical theme is more complex and less predictable than a tight-knit one. The use of fugal passages in a sonata movement like this one offers us a rare opportunity to compare two different kinds of musical logic—Baroque and Classical. Just as in a Baroque fugue, Mozart writes his fugal subjects for future contrapuntal possibilities, but these possibilities are realized at important formal junctures that highlight the formal principles of late eighteenth-century music.
THE CONTRAST-PAIR PRINCIPLE: BEYOND MOZART
The period during which Mozart composed his “Haydn” quartets witnessed a florescence in string quartet writing. In the remaining portion of this article, I will examine some of the quartets written in Vienna roughly at the same time by Dittersdorf, Haydn, and Vanhal. In their works that I will discuss, though polyphonic texture is often significant, its structural function differs from that in Mozart, although Haydn gradually progressed towards more consistent use of polyphony similar to Mozart’s.
With the exception of Haydn’s later quartets, contrast pairs are rather rare in the works of these three composers. Imitative polyphony retains its form-functional significance—that is, it usually comes in medial formal regions—but usually lacks motivic importance, so significant for Mozart. Motivic return rarely produces imitative polyphony, and vice versa: imitations rarely signal motivic return.
These points are especially apparent in two scenarios: when previously used material comes back without polyphony and when polyphony is used without motivic restatement. Haydn’s quartet op. 20, no. 3/iii (example 10), illustrates the first circumstance. Here, the main theme features a melody in the first violin, the lower parts providing harmonic support. The theme ends with an IAC in m. 8, followed by a repetition of the same material. While initially one might perceive this as the consequent of a potential sixteen-measure period, it soon moves away from the home key and proves to be a transition. With their shared material, the two sections—the main theme and the transition—provide
---
2006, 162).
42 Parker (2002) is one of the few scholars who have analyzed the quartets of Mozart’s contemporaries; her approach, however, is decidedly non-analytical with regard to form. I have chosen these three composers and not others because of the close connections between them. Haydn, Dittersdorf, Mozart, and Vanhal performed quartets together in the mid-1780s (Parker 2002, 43–44).
43 Haydn’s increasing use of polyphony has been noted before (Parker 2002, 279), but I wish to show that it is not only a matter of amount of polyphony, but rather the specific method of using polyphony that distinguished Haydn’s later quartets from his earlier ones. After Mozart’s “Haydn” quartets had been written, Haydn himself (starting with op. 50) began to employ the contrast-pair principle more consistently than he did before.
perfect conditions for building a contrast pair at the thematic level. And yet, Haydn uses none of the textural devices that would produce such a pair: the transition begins with the same chordal texture that was used previously, with no polyphonic elements. The continuation phrase of the transition (m. 13ff) changes the relationship between voices: the cello now becomes the leading part, but once again no ensuing polyphony appears. In this example, Haydn is evidently interested in processes other than motivic restatements with contrasting textures, the principal feature of a contrast pair.
---
44 Had Haydn written a contrast pair at the theme level, main-theme/transition, the example would have been very similar to Mozart’s K. 387/i, shown in example 4.
An analogous design appears in other composers’ works. For instance, the main theme from the first movement of Vanhal’s Quartet in G Major (example 11), main theme, displays a sixteen-measure compound sentence, where the continuation (mm. 9–16) features a scalar motive in the first violin related to the line of the upper parts in the c.b.i. These two phrases, the initial (presentation) and the medial (continuation), share the scalar motive and, therefore,
create ideal conditions for a phrase-level contrast pair. Vanhal, however, does not avail himself of the opportunity: both phrases contain homophonic textures. The gaps between the motive statements in the subordinate theme (mm. 9 and 11) provide imitative opportunities of the same motive in another part, but are left almost “blank,” with minimal chordal filling. The texture type throughout the main theme as a whole is what Parker terms a lecture; note that this texture continues in the codettas of the theme (mm. 17–22) and in the subsequent transition. Although the first violin is now joined by the second, there is no imitative texture. In fact, in Vanhal’s output of quartets, imitative or other polyphonic textures are rather rare in general. Vanhal’s Quartet in C Major (example 12) provides a comparable illustration with example 11. The main theme is homophonic and formally tight-knit: it exemplifies the hybrid 1 type (antecedent plus continuation). In the subordinate theme (12b, mm. 30 and 34), the first violin restates a motive from the continuation of the main theme (12a) without altering its homophonic texture. Both themes therefore are also instances of Parker’s lecture, with the lower parts providing modest accompaniment. Thus, the example shows an opportunity for a contrast pair, but the composer does not avail himself of this opportunity.
The second category of weak contrast pairs finds the use of imitative texture outside of motivic restatements. The majority of such cases occur in formal areas in which polyphonic textures are normative, such as medial or concluding regions at either phrase or theme level. To illustrate, consider Dittersdorf’s Quartet in D Major, no. 1/i (example 13a). Here, since the second subordinate theme begins with a canonic sequence, this c.b.i. resembles an imitative presentation. After the IAC, a continuation follows with more canonic activity. All these polyphonic phrases use new material (see example 13b). One might intuit two potential contrast pairs here. For instance, the opening of this theme could have restated the material from the main theme and so create a pair main-theme/subordinate-theme—that is, a theme-level pair. Further, one might imagine the continuation of example 13a borrowing the material from the presentation and thus building a phrase-level pair presentation/continuation. Yet Dittersdorf uses new material in both cases. Instead of creating contrast pairs, his compositional purpose might be to provide an impression of freshness and ingenuity by giving a new theme of a lively character produced by imitative texture. The technique of polyphonic motivic restatement, however, is totally absent here.
According to Parker (2002, 57), lecture is a type of texture in which the first violin dominates melodically.
Parker (2002, 184–87) gives a list of “debate” quartets—those where polyphonic texture dominates. Vanhal’s quartets are nearly absent there (only three of his works appear in this list). Conversely, in her list of “lecture” quartets (78–83), those where the texture is homophonic, Vanhal appears ten times.
For Hepokoski and Darcy, this would not be a second subordinate theme (a term they do not use, in fact), but the only subordinate theme, since the cadence in m. 43 is the first and only option for an MC.
Other examples of imitative passages based on new motivic material: Dittersdorf, the slow movement Quartet no. 1 (where the contrasting middle contains an imitative section); Quartet no. 5 in
---
45 According to Parker (2002, 57), lecture is a type of texture in which the first violin dominates melodically.
46 Parker (2002, 184–87) gives a list of “debate” quartets—those where polyphonic texture dominates. Vanhal’s quartets are nearly absent there (only three of his works appear in this list). Conversely, in her list of “lecture” quartets (78–83), those where the texture is homophonic, Vanhal appears ten times.
47 For Hepokoski and Darcy, this would not be a second subordinate theme (a term they do not use, in fact), but the only subordinate theme, since the cadence in m. 43 is the first and only option for an MC.
48 Other examples of imitative passages based on new motivic material: Dittersdorf, the slow movement Quartet no. 1 (where the contrasting middle contains an imitative section); Quartet no. 5 in
Example 12. Vanhal, String Quartet in A Major/i, main theme and subordinate theme
a) Second subordinate theme
Example 13. C. Dittersdorf, String Quartet No. 1 in D Major/i
b) Main theme (opening)
Despite the relatively weak interest in contrast-pair logic in the examples shown above, one nevertheless finds some instances in the works of Mozart’s contemporaries. Naturally, some cases exhibit the principle more rigorously than others. In Dittersdorf’s Quartet in B-flat Major, no. 2/i (example 14), one can perceive (albeit with some strain) a theme-level contrast pair (main-theme/transition). The main theme, with its strict homophonic, introduces the b.i. material, with its prominent ascending sixth, in the first violin. The transition, elided with the main theme, begins with a canonic sequence, in which the second violin leads; formally, one interprets an imitative presentation followed by a continuation. As always, the canonic sequence produces a grouping and hypermetrical conflict between the two upper voices. This conflict significantly adds to the instability of the transition, when compared with the homophonic and hypermetrically stable main theme. The melodic proximity of the two themes, however, is equivocal and rests more on rhythmic than motivic similarity. Both themes feature passages with a prominent sixteenth-note motive (which begins with a tied note). But the main theme’s opening ascending ascending sixth is practically absent in the transition, except for m. 8, second violin, where the motive is found slightly below the surface (the first and third note of the measure). In sum, example 14 approximates the ideal contrast pair, but lacks an unequivocal motivic restatement.
Haydn’s op. 33, often described as the principal inspiration for Mozart’s “Haydn” quartets, contains relatively few contrast pairs; imitative textures, though sometimes present, do not dominate in these works. Op. 33, no. 2/i (example 15) contains another main-theme/transition pair. This example is somewhat similar to the previous one, by Dittersdorf, in that the main theme, in a small ternary form, is tight-knit, homophonic, and generally very stable.
As always, an imitative grouping conflict produces a metrical conflict. The second violin accentuates even-numbered measures, and the first violin accentuates odd-numbered measures. This hypermetric structure is based on the attacks on the downbeats of odd-numbered measures in the second violin (MPR 3 in Lerdahl and Jackendoff 1983) and an absence of an attack on the downbeat of even-numbered measures. The first violin offers the opposite accentuation. The harmony, with stable tonic chords in mm. 8, 10, and 12, supports the dux’s even-strong hypermeter (MPR 9).
I use the word surface in a Schenkerian sense here. Surface—the literal content of an instrumental part—is contrasted with deeper levels of structure. In other words, if one reduces the second note of the second violin part in m. 8, one gets the motive in its original form, as in m. 1.
Dittersdorf’s opinion of Mozart’s quartets is of interest. Dittersdorf considered Mozart’s works too complex, a statement directly related to their dense polyphonic quality. See Klorman (2013, 62) for more on this topic. As we see in this and other examples, however, Dittersdorf’s own music is also not completely devoid of polyphony. Dittersdorf himself published only six quartets (1789), as opposed the other composers examined here, all of whom wrote many more works in this genre.
In this analysis, a real measure equals ½ notated measures. This interpretation is corroborated by the cadences that fall in the mid-measure, such as the first PAC, a situation that usually signals a “compound meter” (see Caplin 2011). I must mention that, in Hepokoski and Darcy’s terms (2006, 52), this is a continuous exposition: shortly after the end of my example 15, a PAC occurs with no MC.
The first violin leads. The transition (m. 13), though it does not repeat the main-theme material exactly, is motivically related to it. In addition to the first violin, other parts imitate the cadential motive of the preceding theme, thus briefly enlivening the texture. Although no significant metrical conflicts occur, the imitations still create a textural contrast with the preceding theme. What is absent from this movement, however, is an embedded contrast pair. Haydn could have used polyphony earlier, perhaps in the recapitulation on the main afterwards. In Caplin’s terms (1998, 111–15), this exposition exhibits a fusion of the transition and subordinate theme, where the HC in m. 14 ends the transition and is then reinterpreted as an internal HC of the subordinate theme.
theme (mm. 9–12), thus providing a phrase-level pair. In conjunction with a theme-level pair, an embedded pair would result: exposition/recapitulation at the phrase level (within the small ternary) and main-theme/transition at the theme level.
Op. 33, no. 6/i (example 16) presents another contrast pair. Here, a homophonic main theme (16a) introduces motives that are subsequently used in a considerably looser subordinate theme (16b) in the form of an imitative presentation. The pair differs from most of the Mozart examples in that the imitative presentation does not use the initial motive of the main theme, but rather the one from m. 5 (itself derived from the opening gesture). The motivic process is thus somewhat more complicated than in Mozart’s normative contrast pairs.
Haydn’s quartets written after Mozart’s “Haydn” quartets, explored earlier in this article, display much more rigorous use of imitative polyphony and the contrast pair principle and may well be a direct result of Mozart’s influence. It has been often noted that Haydn and Mozart exerted mutual influence, which is apparent in chamber music and especially the quartets. It is not surprising, therefore, that Haydn’s op. 50 (1787), his first set of quartets written after the appearance of Mozart’s set, should feature elements characteristic of the younger composer.
To analyze the entire op. 50 is beyond the scope of this article. Suffice it to say that Haydn uses polyphonic textures much more systematically than he does in his earlier quartets. This fact, combined with the rigorous monothematicism of this opus, gives us several illustrations of contrast groups. One of these instances, a theme-level contrast group, is found in op. 50, no. 6/i (example 17). The main theme begins with a phrase (mm. 1–4) that could serve as a cadence (specifically, the non-tonic opening and the strong V-I progression); the first violin, with its descending motive, dominates the texture. The phrase is followed by an expanded sentence (mm. 5–16). The transition begins with the main theme’s opening descending motive, this time without a trace of cadential character but instead structured as an imitative presentation (mm. 16–19). The subordinate theme (m. 26) opens with the same material once again,
---
54 Einstein (1962, 181) says that Mozart learnt from Haydn “as a master form master.” Barrett-Ayres (1974, 377) writes, “Haydn and Mozart learnt from each other without giving a single lesson.” See Mark Evan Bonds (1993) for a detailed discussion of stylistic, motivic, and other similarities between Haydn’s and Mozart’s quartets.
55 Barrett-Ayres (1974, 203) even entitles the chapter on op. 50 “Monothematicism.”
a) Main theme and transition
Example 17 (a). Haydn, String Quartet in D Major, op. 50, no. 6/i
though the motive is now slightly changed (the first interval is ascending, rather than descending second), and another imitative presentation results. In sum, this is a contrast group made up of three components, each component being more destabilized than the previous: the transition due to imitative texture, and the subordinate theme due to both its imitative nature and the dominant harmony, prolonged until m. 30. The technique is remarkably similar to that in Mozart’s K. 464/iv (see example 6).\(^5\)
As Parker has noted, with regard to texture, “Haydn and Mozart seem to have arrived at certain approaches within close chronological proximity … the genre [of the string quartet] moved smoothly from a first-violin dominated texture to a four-part conversation” (Parker 2002, 279). Her terms “conversation” and “debate” generally refer to what I call polyphony. She then warns against transferring this view to the quartets of other contemporaneous composers. Indeed, as I have shown, not every quartet composer of the time employs polyphony as much as Haydn and Mozart do; and even when polyphony occurs, contrast groups do not necessarily result. It seems that Mozart was first to explore the contrast-pair principle systematically in his “Haydn” quartets (1785), and that the composer’s influence on Haydn is apparent by the consistent use of the technique in his very next quartet opus (op. 50, 1787). It is interesting that, for example, Dittersdorf, who was involved in composing and performing quartets at the same time and place, in his Six Quartets from (some of which have been analyzed above) was not so much influenced by Mozart’s contrast-pair principle. It is true, however, that contrast pairs are only one aspect of the endless richness of compositional techniques employed by the
---
\(^5\) A significant difference, however, is that Mozart’s subordinate theme in K. 464/i is harmonically stable (it is supported by the local tonic of E major), while Haydn’s subordinate theme is harmonically destabilized.
\(^5\) “The student is thus presented with fairly convincing evidence that the genre [in the music of Haydn and Mozart] moved smoothly from a first-violin dominated texture to a four-part conversation. Many then transfer these generalizations to the quartets of all eighteenth-century composers … In the process, those works that do not conform are marginalized” (Parker 2002, 279).
eighteenth-century Viennese masters and that the currents of influence among them worked in many different ways, only some of which pertain to texture.
**Conclusion**
Among the textural categories generally accepted pertaining to the music of Mozart and his time—homophony, imitative polyphony, and non-imitative polyphony—imitative polyphony has the highest potential to engender loose formal structures. This compositional possibility results from the grouping and hypermetrical conflicts created by imitative texture. As a result of its loosening ability, imitative texture occurs mostly in medial formal regions at both the phrase and the theme level of formal hierarchy, though imitations are not necessarily restricted to these regions. To connect formal and textural questions with motivic content, we have examined some contrast groups—groups of at least two sections based on shared motivic material and contrasted with each other in formal functionality, formal organization, and texture.
This study does not include all the pairs in the “Haydn” quartets that share motivic material or all the polyphonic activity in these quartets. I paid little attention, for example, to one quartet that displays a fascinating wealth of polyphony and, perhaps as a consequence, a very dramatic character—K. 421, the only minor-mode piece in the entire set. Rather, I have concentrated on select examples with the purpose of investigating the logic of form–texture relationship that has a broader application in Mozart’s oeuvre. Although significant, Mozart does not use polyphony ubiquitously in these quartets. Rather, certain form-functional preferences lie behind his choice for the placement of polyphonically active sections. To a considerable degree, these preferences seem to be Mozart’s original contribution to the compositional techniques of the time, for it appears that not many examples of contrast pairs occur in the contemporaneous quartets.
The investigation of polyphony and form allow us approach some theoretical questions that are difficult to examine otherwise. One such question is the link between form-functional theory and motivic analysis. As explicitly stated by Caplin (1998, 4), a functional theory of form does not rely on motivic content of music and depends instead on harmony. Traditionally, however, many theories of musical form have strongly relied on motivic analysis, especially those of the nineteenth century. Furthermore, the notion of motivische Arbeit has been of great significance for the analysis of tonal music in general. Therefore, it seems appropriate to associate these two contrasting approaches to from, the harmony-centred and the motivic-centred. The notion of contrast pair provides one possible relationship. It suggests that the formal function
---
58 In fact, Scott Burnham (2002) characterizes thematic content as the primary concern and the defining feature of the nineteenth-century German theories of form. With regard to nineteenth-century theorists, see Momigny’s analysis of Mozart’s quartet K. 421 (1803–6).
59 Though the reliance on thematic material in the twentieth century significantly decreased, it still continues to play a role, as in the work of Charles Rosen (1988 and 1997).
of beginning fulfils not just harmonically and phrase-structurally expressed formal initiation, as Caplin asserts, but also motivic initiation.
A possible challenge for any study of texture and its structural function may lie in the difficulty of objective criteria for categories of texture. Imitations excluded, deciding whether a passage is homophonic, polyphonic, or a mixture of both is often a matter of subjective judgment, largely because texture remains one of the least defined musical dimensions in terms of its distinct types. Using Leonard Meyer’s (1998) differentiation between syntactic musical parameters (those able to display functionally different categories) and statistical ones (those that rely on “amount” rather than on classification), we can situate texture among the statistical parameters. It is more difficult to submit texture to strict categorization, as compared to, say, pitch structure, whereby every single combination (chord) can be related to some harmonic category and a potential tonal function, or to metre, which disposes of many discrete time signatures. Nonetheless, the structural role of imitative polyphony proposed here provides some insight into how texture interacts with form in Mozart’s quartets. An awareness of this role enhances our perception of both the large-scale structure and compositional details of these pieces and enriches our experience of this formidably complex music.60
Works Cited
60 I am very grateful to William Caplin, Edward Klorman, William Rothstein, René Rusch, and two anonymous readers for their valuable advice in the earlier stages of this essay.
ABSTRACT
This essay demonstrates that texture can act as a form-defining factor by focusing on one specific textural type: imitative polyphony. Mozart’s six quartets dedicated to Haydn illustrate this claim. Building on William Caplin’s form-functional theory and his distinction between tight-knit and loose organization, imitative texture is shown to serve two purposes: as a loosening device, and as a means of textural and phrase-structural contrast. To deepen our understanding of polyphony’s formal and expressive roles, two new concepts are proposed: *contrast pair* and *imitative presentation*. The contrast-pair principle is then explored in select Viennese quartets by Mozart’s contemporaries.
RESUMÉ
Cet article montre que la texture peut fonctionner comme un facteur déterminant la forme, en se penchant sur le cas de la texture de la polyphonie en imitation, dont les six quatuors de Mozart dédiés à Haydn en sont des exemples. En se basant sur la théorie de la forme fonctionnelle de William Caplin et sur sa distinction entre l’organisation serrée et l’organisation libre, on y montre que la texture peut servir deux objectifs : alléger l’organisation, et créer un contraste de texture et de structure de phrase musicale. Afin de mieux comprendre les rôles formels et expressifs de la polyphonie, on y propose deux nouveaux concepts : la paire contrastante et la présentation en imitation. Le principe de paire contrastante est ensuite exploré dans une sélection de quatuors viennois de contemporains de Mozart. |
We recommend you cite the published version.
The publisher’s URL is: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/20539320.2016.1256070
Refereed: Yes
(no note)
Disclaimer
UWE has obtained warranties from all depositors as to their title in the material deposited and as to their right to deposit such material.
UWE makes no representation or warranties of commercial utility, title, or fitness for a particular purpose or any other warranty, express or implied in respect of any material deposited.
UWE makes no representation that the use of the materials will not infringe any patent, copyright, trademark or other property or proprietary rights.
UWE accepts no liability for any infringement of intellectual property rights in any material deposited but will remove such material from public view pending investigation in the event of an allegation of any such infringement.
PLEASE SCROLL DOWN FOR TEXT.
ON THE EXPERIENCE OF TEMPORALITY. EXISTENTIAL ISSUES IN THE CONSERVATION OF ARCHITECTURAL PLACES
Fidel A. Meraz
Department of Architecture and the Built Environment, University of the West of England
ABSTRACT
In discussions of the conservation of culturally significant architecture, awareness about issues of temporality and its theoretical import has been approached from varied, partial, perspectives. These perspectives have usually focused on accounts of temporality that focus on the past and the present – and more rarely the future – without considering either the complete spectrum of human temporality or its ontological bases. This article addresses this shortcoming with a phenomenology of conservation grounded on the fundamental attitudes of cultivation and care. After a phenomenological and existentialist analysis of Cesare Brandi’s thought – focusing on his paradigmatic Theory of Restoration – his attitude comes forth as a limited instance of the modern conservation attitude that is concerned exclusively with architecture as art. This attitude results in a limited temporal intentionality. Following Ingarden and Ricoeur, the existential approach is here applied to the deduced dimensions of the space and time of Dasein – in Heidegger’s terms – outlining the grounding of conservation on an existential interpretation of the more fundamental notions of cultivation and care. This interpretation suggests a solution for the modern impasse with an existential account of both the artistic grounding of architecture and its characterisation as the place that temporally accompanies Dasein. Architecture thus emerges as a manifold being, constituting existentially the space for the authentic human being, whose temporal consciousness compels it to cultivate and care about that space, thus enriching the possible approaches to conservation as a collective endeavour.
Article History
Received 1 January 2016
Accepted 29 September 2016
Keywords: conservation, architecture, phenomenology, existentialism, Brandi, Gadamer, Heidegger
INTRODUCTION
The distinction between consciousness and object allowed Husserl to suggest a setting for human beings within which they can be conscious of their constant becoming in time. In Husserl’s suggested temporality, humans exist by having a past, present, and future. For conservators of architecture, however, the centre of gravity of temporality has often, and preferentially, been situated in the past, sometimes in the
present, but only rarely in the future. Following Husserl, Heidegger, more than any other philosopher, started to question not so much the relation between a human being’s consciousness and time, but also the existence of human being as temporality and thus, in a broader sense, Being as temporality. We will follow Heidegger in focusing on the concept of Dasein as the place of disclosure of Being. For Heidegger, Dasein, as a being-in-the-world, overcomes the subject-object paradigm, thus emphasising humanity’s embeddedness in the environment. Part of the appeal of these frameworks is that Cesare Brandi, with whose work we will engage, primarily positioned his later aesthetic theories – in particular his *Teoria Generale della Critica* – in these philosophical terms. Accordingly we will attempt to illuminate the relation between Dasein’s temporality and architecture by interpreting this relation in the context of a critical dialogue between Heidegger’s existential philosophy and Brandi’s theoretical framework in his *Theory of Restoration*, taken as an example of the modern approach to conservation. Our aim is to articulate a more holistic attitude to architectural conservation, thus achieving a consideration of human inhabitation within an architectural heritage while placing dwellers as the focus of the restoration. We will challenge modern conservation attitudes which privilege a fetishisation of the past manifested in architectural objects.
The place where humanity dwells is formed by nature and architecture. This all-embracing environment constitutes the only possible dwelling place and thus the only possible horizon for human perception and experience. Gadamer writing metaphorically, says, “[...] a hermeneutical situation is determined by the prejudices that we bring with us. They constitute, then, the horizon of a particular present, for
they represent that beyond which it is impossible to see.”
Taken to apply to our physical environment, Gadamer’s view means that by the time we reflect in the present about our all-embracing environment, we already have preconceived perceptions and intuitions about it that cannot but determine our understanding of it. The built environment can be read, but how? As a sort of trace or inscription, as Ricoeur has described the city, the architectural place discloses readable structures as part of these unavoidable predispositions. These structures, however, are neither static nor fixed. They evolve along with the historicity of Dasein, but so too does the built environment. The environment reacts to each step we take or action we perform. The city is the paradigmatic place where this happens. Processes of memory and assimilation incessantly take place there and with them humans evolve in time, constantly unveiling and concealing their existential condition. Heidegger’s concept of disclosedness involves then an uninterrupted decoding of Dasein’s place in the world, an understanding that is always merged with that of Dasein’s constant temporalizing.
Heidegger had first suggested in *Being and Time* that temporality is ontologically primary; however, in his later writings he was more concerned about the issue of dwelling, as the fundamental way of Dasein’s being-in-the-world. Because of this shift in favour of place instead of time, scholars have suggested the primacy of place for Heidegger’s concept of Dasein, considering the German origin of the word that is already stating a *there* (Da) before a *when*.
As we approach an interpretation of the conservation endeavour’s intentionality, this philosophical background allows us to begin addressing the architectural place in existential terms. This interpretation of existence rests on some
of Ingarden’s modes of being as well as on some phenomenological, temporal standpoints concerning the architectural place, understood now as Dasein’s sheltering environment. A hermeneutical journey through the architectural place and a phenomenological approach to the assimilation of its transformation are taken as indications of an existential and more fundamental condition for conservation than mere fetishisation of architecture. We will take Brandi’s Theory of Restoration, which focused on the conservation of the work of art, architecture included, only as a work of art, as typical of the modern approach to conservation that is here to be criticized. We turn now to an engagement with the significant issue of architecture as inhabited art and Brandi’s concept of *astanza* (pure presence).
**FROM PERCEPTION TO TEMPORAL EPISTEMOLOGY**
In ancient times, or in some primitive cultures, understanding about and orientation to the world was considered an inherent human ability. Advances in technology brought precision, but at the cost of an abandonment of this intimate awareness of being-in-the-world. Absent scientific weather forecasting, farmers knew about changes in the weather by observing environmental evidence; without GPS technology to guide them, sailors used to observe the sun and other stars to orient themselves. Our world has become mediated -- represented -- and our direct experience of it has been weakened. Something about our awareness or our relation with our environment was lost with the advent of modernity.
Conservation, as conceived in Brandi’s *Theory of Restoration*, is consistent with this modern shift, considering the architectural place where mankind dwells, not as *somewhere* in which humanity is embedded, but as a separated *something*. Modern
conservation, within the modern paradigm that separates subject and object, is but a way of humanity approaching the world while concealing its existential role there, thus hindering the revelation of the world as the place where human being is. Current controversies about conservation, development and regeneration projects evidence attitudes where objectification of buildings and disdain towards local dwellers hinder the achievement of agreeable solutions for the main stakeholders. In many of these controversies, the body-space relationship in the constitution of architecture is both merged with and overwhelmed by collective memory. Nevertheless, for the modern attitude in conservation, architecture emerges mainly as a static condition: a condition that seems limited to convey mainly the sensual parts of the architectural manifold. In Ingarden’s ontology, objects can be either temporal or extra-temporal objects. He proposes three kinds of temporal beings that we may consider as candidates for how we perceive architecture according to the determination of time: architecture as event, architecture as process and architecture as an object enduring in time. Modern conservation perceptions constitutes architecture as an event in time, thus downplaying, or even ignoring, the other two.
**Individual Sensual Experiences**
Setting a matrix of the elements constituting the existential determination of Dasein, one could have on one side the individual and the collective dimensions of being and on the other space and time. Seen in this way, the body and the immediate environment around it constitute a primordial personal space. Expanding outward, collective space is constituted by the architectural place, in the form of buildings and cities, as the place of Dasein in its collective manifestation. This is where architecture,
and the problem of its conservation as temporal intentionality, is located. Time too can be considered both individually and collectively. Any possible personal time is constituted by an existential cone of life-time that locates the horizons of experience at one’s birth at one extreme and one’s death at the other. Collectively, the historical and mythical dimensions of Dasein’s temporal narrative occupy the last position in the matrix. Intending architecture from each one of these positions involves the emergence of different manifestations of culturally significant architecture (CSA).
(see figure 1)
Bodily perception of architecture as event, means dealing with an unchanging state, an icon presented as a constant now. This is one of the main ways in which architecture has been perceived in the current dominance of the modern gaze. The apprehension of architecture, however, is not merely of a constant now in its materiality, but also in its temporality. In this sense, an instant is individualised, selected and privileged among many other possible instants. The temporal gaze is localised in time as eternal, or as a-temporal, and it looks at all time from that arbitrary moment, being usually an equally de-localised present. This apprehension of architecture departs from the present and is always looking towards the past. When the time for conservation comes, what is being preserved is not an environment but an object, often a seen object. An image as event corresponds to the optical givenness that Brandi considers for architecture as a work of art, which constitutes the realising of conservation at the expense of other elements of the architectural manifold.
Architecture perceived as event can also be correlated with Dasein’s ordinary life because it works as the background for that life.10 Dasein in the state of fallenness
– to use Heidegger’s term – would not be able to discern the hidden architectural truth via the apprehension of our being merged with the place, which remains concealed.
This relation is latent only at a sensual level due to the dominance of the visual.
Awareness about the architectural place begins in childhood and develops from the body. The seminal assimilation of the architectural place through the senses originates its image in consciousness in the form of memories and recollections. Thus, when the moment of objectivising architecture comes, its image as event in time appears as one of the essential ways to concretize it.
**Pervasiveness of the Image**
This prevalence of the visual is evidenced in the pervasiveness of the image in Western culture and conservation is no exception to this. For Brandi’s aesthetics, as well as his theory of restoration, the image is privileged as the locus of the manifestation of pure presence that he names *astanza*. Arguably, the image that conservation privileges is not always artistic. Despite the privileged character of the visual image, other bodily perceptions can be, phenomenologically, the first possible experiences of human spatiality. For human beings the earliest perceived space is the womb: one’s own body, the space that one occupies and the fluid that surrounds one, although without differentiation into self and environment. At this primordial level, we are as one with the environment. Later, after birth, the air that we breathe is part of us while inside us, detaching from us when exhaled; for this, and similar reasons, the limit of our body is not sharply perceived. Awareness of the body being embedded in the medium is concealed from the modern gaze and consequently the architectural
place does not manifest itself as an environment but as alien material buildings and mathematically definable spaces.
The architectural image is not reducible to the visual, contra Brandi, but to any event of sensual perception. The experience of architecture as image emerges from the performance of the corporeal body as well as from the dimension of meaning when perceiving images as representations. The images of an architectural place across the time of one’s life form a reserve within which more complex constitutions of architecture are discerned, such as mythical and historical ones. The image of the architectural place – understood as its sensual apprehension – cannot be simply avoided; instead, it demands to be properly considered in the problem of architectural conservation, as part of the architectural manifold and not as the architectural totality.
**Temporal Processes of Meaning Production**
The notion of historical temporality, embraced by conservation in its modern form, developed following the Enlightenment. Brandi was very aware of the flaws of what he called the *historical search for meaning*. For him art emerges from the presence of the work – *astanza* – and not from its historical factuality, which he terms *flagranza*. In the latter sense, the apprehension of architecture as a process – such as in the result of myths and histories – is linked with the search for meaning, i.e., significance and explanation.
The post-Enlightenment invention of *historical time*, as a new way of understanding temporality, prompted the attitude of learning from the past by trying to discover the laws of historical development. The problem here emphasised is about the relationship between the modern conservator and the audience for culturally
significant architecture. If the audience is compelled to deal with architecture as history – or as myth – the audience’s relationship to that history or myth needs to be authentic. In such a case representations in the form of frozen past time would not seem appropriate. Matter cannot guarantee memory; consequently the architectural place should always be kept alive, or it risks becoming sterile archaeology. Brandi’s theory of restoration, although theoretically informed about the nature of art in temporal terms, still seems aimed at privileging some sort of authentic evidence of the past, without any concession to the existential dimension of the relation between architecture and society. In his *Memory History Forgetting*, Ricoeur suggests moving from an epistemological interpretation of memory and history towards a path of critical and hermeneutical ontology. For us, this suggested move requires an excursus to face the problem that was the main concern for Brandi, namely the one of the nature of art in architecture, and our criticism of his forgetting of being.
**THE UNCONCEALED OBJECT OF ESTRANGED CONSERVATION**
A work of art in general seems to have an ontological origin in its materials and in a certain attunement in consciousness. Thus, in Heidegger’s terms, art appeals to Dasein’s being through art’s being. Art’s being is found, however, not in matter, but in consciousness. As Ingarden suggests, art is supported on the matter of the work – through which it is revealed – but the artistic quality is immaterial; it is pure presence, what Brandi calls *astanza*. Brandi, as a phenomenologically informed art theorist, understood the philosophical problems at issue for art in the dialectics of actuality and presence. If this underpinning is mostly implicit in his *Theory of Restoration*, his later thought in *Teoria Generale della Critica* explicitly articulated issues concerning art
arising from phenomenology, structuralism and existentialism, although his theory of restoration could have been improved with more extensive existential insights. For architecture in particular the inclusion of humanity’s existential dimension would have been a significant addition, given architecture’s fundamental characteristic as a dwelling place.
We therefore label Brandi’s attitude toward conservation estranged, given that he considers architecture exclusively as pure presence or astanza in the act of conservation, rather than as a site of human dwelling. We describe it as estranged because, despite arriving at a seemingly appropriate phenomenological deduction of the work of art, he does not consider the existential dimension of the architectural place that we find as one of its most salient features. Architecture has both a dimension as meaning and a dimension as presence. Estranged conservation coincides with Brandi’s notion of restoration which takes the work of art as an intemporal and meaningless entity. Similarly to how phenomenology seems to accept the intemporal quality of the work of art, some contemporary scholars emphasize the preconceptual aspect of aesthetic experience; Brandi is a the precursor to this approach. In this sense, it is our contention that meaning (including language, signification, predicative thought, actuality and so forth) and presence – astanza in Brandi’s terms – are but different aspects of the manifold condition of the architectural place in which presence manifests its intemporal aesthetic dimension.
Meaningless Architectural Presence
For Heidegger, art in the modern West seems detached from its authentic origin and is thus treated as meaningless. Heidegger and Brandi articulate art’s
meaninglessness in different ways. Brandi, in his *Teoria Generale della Critica*, finds the original sense of meaning in reference, namely as a correlative to the linguistic sign.\(^{15}\) He detaches language, however, from any ontological relationship with the notion of truth, because his understanding of sign comes from the Kantian theory of the schema. This detachment of art from meaning is not articulated – as Heidegger had done – as the interplay between the concealment and unconcealment of being. It is rather, presented as a false problem; “the horizon to which one cannot ever be close enough, because we ourselves are the horizon. The reality, as the possession of the real, is a progressive approach that leaves us always as far away as before.”\(^{16}\) Brandi describes the notion of art as detached from meaning as a manifestation of pure presence or *astanza*. By contrast, Heidegger links aesthetics back to its sensual origins:
we do not need first to call or arrange for this situation in which we let things encounter us without mediation. The situation always prevails. In what the senses of sight, hearing, and touch convey, in the sensations of color, sound, roughness, hardness, things move us bodily, in the literal meaning of the world. The thing is the *aisthēton*, that which is perceptible by sensations in the senses belonging to sensibility. Hence the concept later becomes a commonplace according to which a thing is nothing but the unity of a manifold of what is given in the senses. Whether this unity is conceived as sum or as totality or as Gestalt alters nothing in the standard character of this thing-concept.\(^{17}\)
Heidegger suggests that after the mistake of identifying the thing with the idea, truth also came to be understood as correspondence between, in Brandi’s terms, sign and referent.
In Heidegger’s renowned discussion of the peasant shoes in a Van Gogh painting, he argued that the disclosure of what equipment is in truth was realised through the work of art. According to him “[t]he painting spoke. In the nearness of the work we were suddenly somewhere else than we usually tend to be.”
Thus, the work of art brings forth the presence of something that was not there before, that is what something is in truth. Heidegger calls this an unconcealedness of Being, what the Greeks called *alētheia* (commonly translated as truth). Heidegger suggests that truth happens in the work of art through the disclosing of a particular being. “The essence of art would then be this: the truth of being setting itself to work [...]” For Heidegger architecture would constitute art in the happening of the truth of its inhabitation, in its allowance of dwelling, while for Brandi *astanza* in architecture is manifested in the mutual and revealing opposition between exterior and interior. While Brandi does not ignore inhabitation, it is only important as a way to visualise architecture in its actuality while detaching it from the phenomena of signification: “[... a house is not built in order to communicate that it is a house, but to inhabit it” he says.
Heidegger suggests that in the work of art there is a strife between disclosing and concealing in which by “[s]etting up a world and setting forth the earth [...] the unconcealedness of being as a whole, or truth, is won.” This bringing forth of (a) being is done in a way never done before and never to be repeated that finds its correlation in the epiphany of the work of art to which Brandi regularly appeals. In the case of architecture this effect is multiplied by the plurality of Dasein’s inhabitation. By contrast, Heidegger argued that for the Greeks, craft and art were not distinguished, both being called *technē*, a mode of knowing, not making.
**technē** it was possible to reach *alētheia*. In contrast with today’s Western notion of art, art for the Greeks was part of the common knowledge of the essence of everyday beings.
Brandi argues that the implicit evidence of inhabitation is that it results from a need. He does not, however, relate spatial behaviours – as a *portrait* of architectural inhabitation – with mimesis because he is convinced that architecture portrays nothing; architecture, for Brandi, is not a mimetic art. Even if architecture is not mimetic, we argue that *Technē* – in the original Greek sense – would allow ways of inhabitation to emerge through legitimate architectural creation and conservation. Brandi, because of his commitment to a quasi-Kantian schematism, would reject this move. For him “before the primitive hut, there was no concept or image; there was only…a vague intention of that need for shelter from the inclement weather, the dangers of beasts and other men, and who knows what else.”
In the interplay of *alētheia*’s disclosure and concealedness, Heidegger suggests that “art is the preserving of truth in the work. Art then is the becoming and happening of truth.” Conservation, on this view, would be subsumed in the notion of art and not considered something independent. For Brandi restoration was focused on the artistic quality of architecture and thus to be distinguished from other possible ways of taking care of architecture. For Heidegger Brandi’s view mistakenly takes art as a quality and not as a happening. Brandi correctly deduced a specific activity to deal with the artistic manifold, however he failed to integrate the existential dimension in his account of architecture. For Heidegger by contrast, preservation would be to inhabit – to dwell – in the way that architecture asks Dasein to participate in the revealing of
truth. We explore this particular dimension of inhabitation in the next section. What is noteworthy up to here is that conservation of architecture is conceived as part of humanity’s primordial sense of temporality and not an independent intention to take care of architecture nor a recognition of architecture as an alien artistic quality as in Brandi’s notion of restoration.
**Aesthetics, Truth and Language**
Heidegger suggests that aesthetics as a reflection on art was not required in classical Greece because art was instead the way of knowledge itself; it was the way in which Dasein related to its world “integrated into a unified and meaningful totality.”\(^{25}\) It was only later, in Plato, that beauty came to be understood as the manifestation of truth, in the *eidos* of things. This Platonic conception of truth reduces art to the role of imitation of the idea, displacing it from the privileged place of *alētheia* that Heidegger finds essential. With Heidegger’s notion of art as *alētheia* or unconcealment, art itself would be the origin of the work of art and the artist.\(^{26}\) If art is unconcealment, then it isn’t mimetic, making clear how architecture can be art. The detachment between architecture and mimesis was a difficult one for Brandi to account for. On the one hand, he says that art forms like painting (or sculpture), “given its *figurative* nature, exists in spatial autonomy that is the prerequisite of pure reality.” On the other hand, it seemed obvious to him that architecture did not imitate anything.\(^{27}\) What could an architectural mimesis imitate? Instead, the key to his approach to architecture as art can be found in his use of the Kantian schematism, which determines an epistemological position and not an existential one.
It has been suggested that Kant’s demand for universal assent in matters of taste requires an appeal to a human community of sense (sensus communis) as a possible destiny “perhaps never to be realized.”28 On this interpretation “through [Heidegger’s] detailed discussion of the problem of presentation and representation, of what he calls schematism and symbolism, Kant has problematized, and to certain extent neutralized, the question of imitation.”29 It is on this epistemological loop that Brandi is trapped in his demarcation of architecture as art. Brandi discussed this from his early Eliante until the later Teoria Generale della Critica.30 Since Brandi’s approach to art, especially architecture, was mainly epistemological, his theory of restoration is easily interpreted as a suggestion for praxis. On an existential front, Heidegger attempted then to overcome the metaphysical concept of aesthetics that highlighted the aspects of production and imitation and to bring art back to the concept of alētheia. Thus for different reasons, both Brandi and Heidegger removed mimesis from the notion of art.
For Heidegger, language, and especially poetic language, plays a primordial role in bringing forth the essence of beings, clearing the concealment of Being itself.31 We do not wish to dwell on the linguistic essence of the bringing forth of truth, but in the non-linguistic manifestation of the unconcealedness of the Being of beings. Heidegger writes
Art, as the setting-into-work of truth, is poetry. Not only the creation of the work is poetic, but equally poetic, though in its own way, is the preserving of the work; for a work is in actual effect as a work only when we remove ourselves from our commonplace routine and move into what is disclosed by the work, so as to bring our own essential nature itself to take a stand in the truth of beings. The essence of art is poetry. The essence of poetry, in turn, is the
founding of truth. We understand founding here in a triple sense: founding as bestowing, founding as grounding, and founding as beginning. Founding, however, is actual only in preserving. Thus to each mode of founding there corresponds a mode of preserving...
It is in this preserving that the conservationist attitude finds its origin; it could misleadingly look again to a preservation of truth as in the scientific model. But let us not be confused; it is not an epistemological approach to truth anymore, but – in Heidegger’s terms – it is keeping truth in the clear. Brandi did not consider language in the primordial poetic sense that Heidegger did, but instead as both product and tool of the “epistemological process.” This illustrates a fundamental difference between Brandi’s and Heidegger’s notions of truth. Brandi would never have grounded the conservation of the architectural work of art on an existential matrix as Heidegger did. His way was inspired by the epistemological and neutral Kantian schematism and not by an ontological analysis. Brandi’s conservation was a way of recognising the artistic process as process developed in time. In terms of temporality, however, Heidegger suggested that truth becomes historical through art constituting the origin of creators and preservers. Modern conservation has been taken since its beginning mainly as an objectivising activity and not often as an existential dwelling performance founded on care. Brandi’s theory of restoration is no exception, although it is an outstanding example of philosophical reflection. Theoretical reflective knowledge is not to be marginalised; however, the preference that Heidegger suggested would demand a change of attitudes not only concerning architecture as a work of art – as the privileged place of manifestation of the truth of being – but arguably as the first, last and only place where Dasein dwells.
**Intemporal Architectural Presence**
The key concepts elaborated by Brandi, in particular his emphasis on art’s intemporal condition, can best be made sense of in the context of a philosophical investigation of presence. For instance, scholars have called attention to certain conditions of extreme temporality, which are paramount in aesthetic experiences.\(^{35}\) The suddenness and the ephemeral character of these conditions relate directly to Brandi’s aesthetic theory in which art is characterised as intemporal. Gadamer, for example, suggests that “[a]n entity that exists only by always being something different is temporal in a more radical sense than everything that belongs to history. It has its being only in becoming and return”.\(^{36}\) Given the varied ways in which artistic qualities can be perceived, this argument seems controversial. Brandi bases his theory of restoration on a double instantiation of the work of art – the historical and the aesthetic – that allows consideration of its possible temporal insertion in history.\(^{37}\) The historical is implied in the existence of the architectural object in time and eventually in its constant use; the aesthetic is given in the recognition of the work of art as such, appearing only in exceptional moments. The first instance, however, seems to be the one in which temporality is common-sensically manifested.
The relation between Brandi and the Modern Movement in architectural conservation was difficult, especially in historically important places, not so much in terms of temporality – or historicity – but in terms of spatiality. By contrast, Gadamer has suggested an aesthetic negotiation between new, modern buildings and their historical context. Against historicism, he writes that “[e]ven if historically-minded ages try to reconstruct the architecture of an earlier age, they cannot turn back the
wheel of history, but must mediate in a new and better way between the past and the present. Even the restorer or the preserver of ancient monuments remains an artist of his time.”
Here the difference between Gadamer and Brandi is decisive. Whilst for the former even the conservator, and certainly the restorer, is still an artist of his or her time, for the latter the restorer of works of art is not an artist but a critic. Restoration for Brandi is but a methodological recognition of the work of art as a fact already given, not as something to work with. Gadamer instead believes that preservation implies artistic activity because for him architecture has the mission to mediate spatially between drawing attention to itself and redirecting it to the world that architecture accompanies. Architecture, for Gadamer, is not important as an attractive artistic object, but as the sanctuary of mankind’s existence. Thus, the approach to the architectural work of art is different from that to other forms of art. For Gadamer architecture is correlated with Heidegger’s notion of dwelling, whilst for Brandi it represents an exceptional artistic epiphany.
Architecture may have an undeniable dimension as artistic object; however, Brandi’s view of the art of architecture seems detached from fundamental existential considerations. Heidegger’s existential approach deduced the condition of art as a happening in the work, as an act of revelation: alētheia. Heidegger and Brandi agree on the intemporal conditions of architecture as a work of art; however, the attitudes of conservation deduced from their positions are opposed. While Brandi’s notion of restoration isolates the artistic qualities of architecture, thus ignoring architecture as a place to dwell, Heidegger’s concept of preservation seems comprehensive of both the
disclosure of the truth of being and the care for Dasein’s place to dwell. This existential approach to conservation nowadays should be a significant contribution that can help to overcome the impasse whose crisis is starting to be evident in a shift towards more participatory paths. Overcoming this crisis would recover dwelling as the mission of the architectural place.
**CONSERVATION OF PLACE ACCOMPANYING DASEIN**
We suggest the emergence of *cultivation and care* as the base of a common collective understanding in order to conserve not only culturally significant architecture but also architectural places in general. Architecture may constitute not only an artistic object or one that is simply present or merely useful; architecture participates in an inseparable way in Dasein’s existence. A problem arises with the sudden transformation of the world that supported the emergence of certain styles or works of architecture. Sometimes Dasein is compelled to exist in a world that is not *there* anymore.41
We have seen that architecture is not only given to us in sensual presentation, but also as constituent of an environment in which we corporeally *are*. This corporeal aspect of architecture points to Dasein’s dwelling as a key component of architecture. The *in* of being-in-the-world starts with the body. For Dasein, the body is the first and the only personal occupied space. After that first being *there* that the body characterises, Heidegger would suggest that the spatiality of Dasein “[...] is the point at which we need to return to the aroundness (das Umhafte) of the environment (Umwelt) of Dasein as being-in-the-world.”42 Heidegger’s notions of concern and care relate to this region that we call *cultivated and cared for*. We now seek to elaborate an
account of care pertinent to our times. In doing so, we must account for how conservation may shift from a fallen emphasis on objects of the past towards a futural sense of the existence of being-among-others.
**In-the-World**
According to this interpretation of Heidegger, considering the aroundness (*das Umhafte*) of its environment (*Umwelt*) and the in-ness of its being-*in*-the-world, both understood as dwelling, is necessary to understand the spatiality of Dasein. It has been suggested that the in-ness can be understood in two senses, one of inclusion and one of dwelling, one of being and one of understanding.\(^{43}\) Brandi recognises the possibility of conservation beyond the purity of the work of art in the context of the historical instance of restoration. Heidegger, by constrast, privileges dwelling, taking care as a pre-theoretical attitude, a form of concern that never abandons Dasein.
The world is given to humanity not as a Cartesian system of spatial coordinates but as environments made out of the things objectively present that help Dasein to orient itself in the world by configuring a particular spatiality. Heidegger has suggested that the way in which Dasein sees the world is obtained from within the world, making spatiality pre-objective, existential-ontological and not physical-mathematical.\(^{44}\) Brandi’s view of conservation is directed to attaining a critical recognition and thus a cognitive apprehension of the work of art. For Brandi, architecture, as work of art, presents the challenge of being intertwined with an existential dimension that he sets aside, at least for the aims of conservation. He did not see architecture as the whole that constituted a human environment to be conserved *integrally* with its artistic nature. Rather, he took architecture’s two aspects,
the artistic and the historical, and treated them as in need of separate forms of conservation. What we are suggesting is that the inclusion of an existential, in this case Heideggerean, perspective could add an additional value for the particularities that architecture presents as the place of human dwelling.
Architecture as a work of art cannot be only considered as something present-at-hand (as a mere thing) or ready-to-hand (as equipment); however, it can be taken as both when its artistic nature is concealed. For instance in terms of architecture’s utility for inhabitation it is revealed as something ready-to-hand. Nevertheless, as soon as we perceive architecture, we perceive the others of the world. As a non-figurative art form, architecture brings inhabitation as its revealing happening to presence. Inhabitation, however, is about Dasein and not about other objects. For architecture, Brandi asks for the restoration of its double spatiality; Heidegger instead claims its capacity to allow dwelling. This Heideggerean claim establishes a difference between architecture as equipment and as a work of art. Brandi seems trapped in-between the factual historical instance and the artistic pure presence. In the voice of Delano – the American organicist architect character of his Eliante – Brandi says that
The house is primarily shelter, a place to live and to rest, and therefore it is an internal space, a room of air and light, but also of welcoming shade and siesta. One must shape it on the base of a person’s life, and not only on certain functions, isolated and geometrically met.
These characteristics, however, are absent from the artistic conservation his notion of restoration implies, leaving Brandi’s understanding of conservation of architecture as art as estranged from Dasein’s being-in-the-world.
In his famous essay “Building Dwelling Thinking,” Heidegger emphasised the roots of *cultivation and care* for the terms building and dwelling. He discloses relations of the words with notions of cherishing, protecting, preserving, and caring as well as with modes of building such as cultivating or edifying.\(^4^7\) One can suggest, with Heidegger, the conservation of architecture as the privileged place for Dasein to dwell and consider the clearing of the space for it to be free and safe. We suggest that this ideal is constituted by the architectural place, which includes culturally significant architecture as a substantial part, but in no case the only part, and not always the most important part for the inhabitation of humanity. Whether it is still needed to dwell, in Heidegger terms, or another existential interpretation is an open question.
**Being Temporalizing Beings**
We have suggested *cultivation and care* as a field for Dasein’s life that merges familiar perceptions, public opinion and individual participation. This field was filled in pre-modern times by the traditional world and its slow evolution. Modernity and post-modernity broke that balance leaving the field to be filled with what Heidegger called the *fallenness* of the world. Fallenness is characterised as one of the constituents of care in Heidegger’s thought, the one that puts its emphasis in the present. Cultivation and care, as they used to happen in pre-modern times, to create and preserve the architectural place were interrupted; they are now a dominant concern.
At this point we must clarify our use of the terms *cultivation and care*. Although they are motivated from an existential approach, we associate *cultivation* with Gadamer’s concept of *Bildung* [culture, development, formation], which he
relates with *Kultur. Bildung* as formation “describes more the result of the process of becoming than the process itself. [...] [It] grows out of an inner process of formation and cultivation, and therefore constantly remains in a state of continual *Bildung.*”
Further: “what constitutes the essence of *Bildung* is clearly not alienation as such, but the return to oneself – which presupposes alienation, to be sure.”
For Gadamer, “the general characteristic of Bildung [is] keeping oneself open to what is other – to other, more universal points of view... To distance oneself from oneself and from one’s private purposes means to look at these in the way that others see them.”
*Cultivation*, as related to *Bildung*, means looking after the environment from the most comprehensive horizon for the benefit of the others that exist with oneself. Cultivation implies a letting ourselves grow in the opening towards the others.
The notion of *care*, however, relates partially to Heidegger’s sense of care in its fundamental connection with temporality. Heidegger first conceived care [*Sorge*] as “the care-taker of beyng, such a care-taking involving an irreducible operation of creation.”
He understands the primordial truth of existence as anticipatory, resolute disclosedness [*vorlaufende Entschlossenheit*]. Care supposedly reveals existence on the basis of itself, which for Heidegger means that Dasein’s existence is always and essentially being towards its own death, i.e., Dasein’s existence has death as its most extreme horizon.
According to Heidegger, in resolute disclosedness Dasein does not avoid its finite existence but anticipates it, changing its attitude in relation to its surrounding world. This phenomenon points to his notion of care.
Dictated by death as the ultimate horizon of existence, temporality is revealed in these three dimensions of care: the facticity of being-already-in-a-world (past); the
existentiality of being-ahead-of-itself (future); and the falling of being-alongside (present). “Temporality reveals itself to be the sense of authentic care.”
Heidegger’s revelation of the original sense of the being of Dasein redefines it as futural, as always to come, always becoming.
From this perspective the notion of conservation requires redirection in its temporal emphasis. To conceive his theory of restoration Brandi began from the (claimed to be) impossible human intervention in the time of the creation of art. He disregarded the internal temporality that the work of art has, as evidenced by its previous inhabitation, which we suggest could constitute an architectural form of mimesis. The reason for these exclusions was Brandi’s different understanding of temporality in which presence (as *parousia*) is equal with being present, being there. Brandi could grasp that art was “*parousia* without *ousia,*” thus, presence without existence; however, for him the centre of temporality was still located in the present.
Because of its humanised condition the architectural place – in the form of individual buildings, building complexes, or even cities – participates in the characteristics of a work of art, but also in features that transform it into an almost *animated* character. The authentic being a place to dwell of architecture connects it intimately with humanity’s existence. Architecture seems to mirror the human being’s temporalizing of itself in its different dimensions of care. Indeed, architecture emulates a being that temporalizes other beings. Architecture shelters *cultivation* and provides *care* to Dasein, not only in Heidegger’s sense, but also in other possible senses, in a way that other forms of art cannot; architecture performs as mother’s womb, as lovers’ bed, as final tomb. It accompanies Dasein’s complete existence,
offering, when authentic dwelling is given, a cleared opening in which freedom to live and security to die seem, at least philosophically, possible. The ethical responsibility for this mission does not fall only on architects and conservators. The changes that human inhabitation demands through history invite Dasein to learn how to dwell. Dasein, however, needs to develop fertile existential attitudes that help it to overcome the modern impasse of conservation. Dasein’s uncanny fate seems to be – in the collective and the individual – the search for authentic city, the perennial search for home.
ARCHITECTURAL HABITUATION TO CONSTANT BECOMING
This article aims to move the philosophical discussion on conservation forward towards a broader understanding in terms of human existence rather than one based only on the preservation of architectural objects. From a theoretical perspective, it is hoped that this article will stimulate further developments with similar approaches to conservation, thus helping to overcome the impasse in which preservation seems to be trapped. On the practical side, taking the existential dimension seriously, especially in the context of culturally significant architecture, presents additional challenges that go beyond the merely technical problems of conservation, compelling stakeholders, institutions and conservators to negotiate and consider these issues in future proposals.
For architecture and its conservators, we suggest a philosophical compromise, rather than the merely practical accomplishment of inhabitation and the attainment of transcendental dwelling. In the contemporary world, since people dwell in a plurality of forms according to particular existential conditions, there arises the need to
establish perpetual open dialogues among individuals and groups. As already mentioned, the constant becoming of Dasein requires an always-changing position in order to stimulate human empathy. Dasein’s own conservation and care of its place to dwell should not ignore that being-among-others that its existence implies. Cultivation and care emerge as fundamental attitudes behind conservation both in its relation to human being and its architectural place as the paradigmatic place to dwell, as well as in the form of the house in its intimate manifestation and in the form of the city in its collective one. The approach to conservation from an existential point of view, revealed the need to consider the architectural place as a part of the world-environment and not as a separate object. Architecture implies a place to live within. The condition of plurality of the world demands that we maintain an openness to integrate a diversity of horizons rather than a closure that fossilises, freezes and hinders communication between human beings. The call is for cities and homes to be open and not to be closed. Many others have had this uncanny dream before.
Epilogue
Temporal and intemporal traces of the intimate and unavoidable connection between the worked stone – of a humble tomb or a sumptuous palace – and the flesh and mind of human being are manifested to consciousness as the uncanny personalised emanation that accompanies us constantly in the form of architecture.
Stone is a forehead where dreams moan, / devoid of curved water, frozen cypress. / Stone is a shoulder to carry time / with trees of tears and ribbons and planets.57
This poem by García Lorca seems to suggest those absences with which architecture is sometimes even more present to us than in its material factuality; it
does not make a difference whether it is to be born, to live, or to die, such as the unfortunate bullfighter to whom the poem is dedicated. Being there, if authentic Dasein, always will compel us to grow and to care about our place.
Figures
Figure 1. Matrix of elements of existential determination of Dasein. (Own diagram)
Notes on contributor
Fidel Meraz is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Architecture and the Built Environment, University of the West of England. A trained architect, he has been teaching for several years in both Mexico and the UK. He taught previously at the University of Nottingham, Nottingham Trent University and the University of Suffolk. His research interests focus on philosophical issues concerning the relationship between architecture, temporality and place such as spatial collective memory, national identity, and architectural conservation; his PhD thesis offers a phenomenological account as a critique of modern architectural conservation.
References
**Endnotes**
3 Brandi et al., *Theory of Restoration*.
8 Some examples of controversies where stakeholders of the built environment do not approach with the same attitudes their architectural places can be explored in Herron, “Manchester’s Second Coming – but Are Developers Destroying Its Industrial Soul?”; correspondent, “Liverpool Waterfront Heritage Status at Risk as Mayor Rejects UN Plea”; Wainwright, “Are Shoreditch Skyscrapers a London Tower Too Far, Even for Boris Johnson?”; Weaver and Jones, “Ridiculed Restoration of Spanish Castle Wins Architecture Prize.”
10 This apprehension of architecture as event correlates with Ingarden’s mode of being as event. Ingarden, *Times and modes of being*
13 Ingarden, *Ontology of the work of art: the musical, the picture, the architectural work, the film*
16 Ibid. p. 52. (Our translation).
17 Heidegger, *Basic Writings from Being and Time (1927) to The Task of Thinking (1964)*. p. 156
18 Ibid. p. 164
19 Ibid. p. 164-65
21 Heidegger, *Basic Writings from Being and Time (1927) to The Task of Thinking (1964)*. p. 181.
24 Heidegger, *Basic Writings from Being and Time (1927) to The Task of Thinking (1964)*. p. 183.
26 Ibid. p. 134.
29 Ibid. p. 136.
31 Heidegger, *Basic Writings from Being and Time (1927) to The Task of Thinking (1964)*. p. 185.
33 Brandi, *Teoria generale della critica* p. 52.
34 Heidegger, *Basic Writings from Being and Time (1927) to The Task of Thinking (1964)*. p. 187.
36 Gadamer, *Truth and method*, p. 120.
41 Cfr. “The Origin of the Work of Art” in Heidegger, *Basic Writings from Being and Time (1927) to The Task of Thinking (1964)*. He gives as example the visit to the temples of Paestum and Bamberg cathedral when the world of their work has perished.
42 de Beistegui, *The New Heidegger* p. 64. (Emphasis in the original).
43 Ibid. p. 64.
44 Ibid. p. 66.
45 “[b]y ‘Others’ we do not mean everyone else but me – those over against whom the ‘I’ stands out. They are rather those from whom, for the most part, one does not distinguish oneself – those among whom one is too.” Heidegger, *Being and time* p. 154.
50 Ibid. p. 17.
51 de Beistegui, *The new Heidegger* p. 57.
52 Ibid. p. 70.
53 Ibid. p. 71.
55 Ibid. pp. 70-1.
56 Brandi, *Teoria generale della critica* p. 133. (Our translation and emphasis) |
Explanation of the Structure of the Human Processes based on Islamic Principles (Strategies and Solutions for Creating Art, Architecture and Urbanism)
Abdolhamid Noghrekar / Samaneh Taghdir
Reading and Understanding Continuity and Change in Spatial Organization of Local Houses (Case study: sabzevar city)
Gholam hosein Memarian / Seyyed Mahdi Madahi / Arash Sayyadi
Divine Vision: Islamic Arts and Horizontal Thought
Seyed Gholamreza Islami / Niloufar Nikghadam / Seyed Yahya Islami
An analytic overview on the rise of cyber spaces and the Islamic Society: An urban challenge or natural transition of cities?
Reza Kheyroddin / Omid Khazaeian
Paraphrasing the meaning of physical environment; comparative examining of audience-oriented, author-oriented and text-oriented (Islamic) approaches
Mohammad Mannan Raeesi
A Comparison of thermal comfort in traditional and modern Bazaar from direct solar radiation perspective, Using questionnaire and Ecotect simulation – A case of Shiraz in Iran
Zahra Barzegar / Maryam Rasaeipoor / Heydar Jahan Bakhsh
Analyzing the geometry of Iranian Islamic gardens based on the Quran’s characteristics of paradise
Omid Rahaei
Recognition of the impacts of consecration culture on the social-physical frame of urban neighborhoods (Case study: Neighborhoods of district 12 of Tehran)
Mitra Ghafourian / Elham Hesari / Mina PeySokhan
Managing Director: vice chancellor for research-Iran University of Science and Technology
Editor-in-chief: Abdol Hamid Noghreh Kar
Administrative Director:
Mohammad Mannan Racesi
Administrative assistant:
Amir Hosein Yousefi
English literary editor:
Omid Khazaeian
Editorial Board Members:
Seyyed Gholam Reza Eslami: Associate Professor, University of Tehran
Hasan Bolkhari: Associate Professor, University of Tehran
Mostafa Behzadfar: Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Mohammad Reza Pourjafar: Professor, Tarbiat Modares University
Mahdi Hamzeh Nejad: Assistant Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Esmaeil Shich: Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Manoochehr Tabibian: Professor, University of Tehran
Mohsen Faizi: Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Hamid Majedi: Associate Professor, Science and Research Branch, Islamic Azad University
Asghar Mohammad Moradi: Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Gholam Hossein Memariyan: Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Fatemeh Meh dizadeh: Associate Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Mohammad Naghizade: Assistant Professor, Science and Research Branch, Islamic Azad University
Ali Yaran: Associate Professor, Iran Ministry of Science, Research and Technology
Design assistant: Amir Hosein Yousefi
Address: Center of Excellence in Islamic Architecture, Iran University of Science and Technology, Narmak, Tehran, Iran
Tel/Fax: (21-98+) 77491243 / E-mail: jria@iust.ac.ir / Website: http://iust.ac.ir/jria
Reviewers for Volume 7, Number 1:
Ali Asadpour: Teacher, Shiraz Art University
Yahya Eslami: Assistant Professor, University of Tehran
Mitra Ghafurian: Assistant Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Mahdi Hamzeh Nejad: Assistant Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Mahdi Khakzand: Assistant professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Mohamad Javad Mahdavinejad: Associate Professor, Tarbiat Modares University
Fatemeh Meh dizadeh: Associate Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Majid Mofidi: Assistant Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Ghasem Motalebi: Assistant Professor, University of Tehran
Mohammad Naghizade: Assistant Professor, Science and Research Branch, Islamic Azad University
Saeed Norozian: Assistant Professor, Shahid Rajae University
Mohammad Manan Racesi: Assistant Professor, Iran University of Science and Technology
Sina Razaghi: Assistant Professor, Shahid Rajae University
Mansureh Tahbaz: Associate Professor, Sahid Beheshti University
Mohammad Hosein Zakeri: Assistant Professor, Shiraz University
Discussions derived from epistemology and its sub-branches are of the most important theoretical grounds affecting theoretical basis of art schools in particular architecture styles. During recent decades, two approaches of epistemology have been reciprocally shaped to know how one can paraphrase the meaning of physical environment. In the first approach, the audience and his knowledge are main foundations in the process of perception and cognition of environmental meaning. However, there is audience meaning nobility in this approach and therefore, all meanings are considered convincing and neither can be granted as final meaning of environment. So it can be called «Audience-Oriented» approach. While the second approach, has a perceptible reality in the final meaning of environment that should be received during a firm process. Accordingly, it is not impossible to discover the intention of environment architect by reviewing his work and (only the meaning which accords with this intention is considered convincing) the only meaning that accords with this intention is considered convincing. So, this approach can be called «Author-Oriented». In addition to comparative analogy between two above-said (these two) approaches, this study clarifies a third one that makes its cognitive base on Islamic (thoughts) teachings. According to this new approach, the main foundation of the process of environmental meaning paraphrase is the physical environment (or text) and so it can be called «Text-Oriented». In order to explain and collate the triple approaches, the present study (this research) uses archival research while enjoying, simultaneously, the logical argumentation research to arrange data resulted from archival studies.
**Keywords:** epistemology, hermeneutic, environmental meaning, paraphrasing process.
1-Introduction
1-1- Research problem definition
Among architectural components, the meaning component, while enjoys tremendous significance which scholars grant (Nasr 2010, 91; Bahreiny 2007, 282; Lynch 1960, 22; Lynch 1984, 152), has also faced theoretical challenges during recent decades. The challenges mainly origin from one of epistemology sub-branches named “hermeneutics”. Subjects such as meaning range of physical environment, different reading possibilities of one certain work of architecture, viewer’s pre-understandings roles in interpretation and perception of physical environment are of new problems which have raised from contemporary architecture’s theoretical groundwork and rooted in epistemological issues particularly hermeneutical which first began from philosophy and then entered into art scope and architecture.
The pivotal influence of above discussions in the discipline of architecture stands on the thought that says architecture is a kind of language (Schulz 2009, 531) and then a building can be viewed as a text (Sojudi 2009, 322). Accordingly, artistic works speak (Gadamer 1977, 100) and should be placed into the language territory and since language is a system of related words (Saussure 1966, 114), a physical environment is like a text whose words are masses, textures and its comprising components which in addition to having meaning relations with each other, transform their messages through different codes. During this process, perceiving a text-like environment is an event that entails paraphrasing and fulfills it as a conclusion of past-present dialogue (Ibrahimi Dinani 2001, 231).
Around this matter so far, two influential approaches have been provided by philosophers and epistemologists to read meaning of a work which in the first one (audience-oriented), audience’s pre-knowledge and prejudices are considered as the main factor to percept and paraphrase environment meaning; while in the second (author-oriented) the main factor to perceive the environmental meaning include the intention by which author (architect) wishes to design the environment. This study presents another approach in this regard whose epistemological foundation is built on Islamic notions. Although Islamic thinkers set forth different subjects around this approach basis but up to today its process in the scope of physical environment meaning paraphrase has not been clarified systematically. The purpose of studying this problem is explaining the effective components in the process of environment meaning paraphrasing according to comparative study of above-said approaches.
1-2- Research questions
- What elements, based on approaches of audience-oriented, author-oriented, and text-oriented, are effective to paraphrase and perceive physical environment meaning?
- What are the characteristics of the meaning range and the semantic hierarchy of physical environment in the triple approaches of architectural works paraphrase?
- Which of the above-said approaches, based on their proclaimed analysis, has more credibility in environment meaning paraphrase?
1-3- Research method
Data relating to this research subject is mainly based on historical, commentarial and particularly physical grounds. Method of archival research has been used to gain necessary information. Since interpretive-historical research has the nature of usually documented evidences or written resources (Groat & Wang 2008, 14) and with respect to requirements of this
research, to use desirably the method of archival research made in this paper, the author has utilized interpretive-historical research in the first gathering step of data; Moreover the author has used logical argumentation research in analysis stage and judgment of data.
2. Definition of Human
Since the theoretical foundation of this paper is based on epistemological suppositions of Islamic thought school, and in order to gain the aim of this study, human and his characteristics play a pivotal role, so it is necessary to define human and his existential aspects in the perspective of Islam before going towards the research body.
Human, according to Islamic thought, consists of two realms: potential and actual. Islam doctrine calls its potential aspect as “Fetrat” enfolding human pre-fate which is the cause of his dignity and priority over other creatures: “We have honored the children of Adam and carried them on both land and sea; we have provided them with good things and greatly preferred them above much of our creation” (Quran, chapter Esra, verse 70). However, human can activate his natural potentials to orient positively, or he would decline by neglecting his natural trends, a decline that could collapse human to a place inferior than objects: “So their hearts were like rocks, rather worse in hardness” (Quran, chapter Baqara, verse 74). Accordingly, human soul can be divided to four general categories- as Imam Ali (as) said: vegetal being, animal being, rational being, and divine being (Meshkini 1985, 222). The first two ones exist de facto and are common in human and animal, while the two other beings are devoted to human and exist not actually but potentially. This variation of realms and existential hierarchy is the difference between human and other creatures (Motahhari 2006, 32). Despite this variety, as Quran emphasizes, the original context of all human beings creation is the same and there will not be any change in this common context. Quran calls this common context as “Fetrat (nature)”: “Then set your face upright for religion in the right state - the nature made by Allah in which he has made men; there is no altering of Allah’s creation; that is the right religion, but most people do not know” (Quran, chapter Room, verse 30).
3-Definition of Epistemology
Epistemology or the theory of episteme is one of main philosophy branches that today have been placed as an independent and extensive subject next to other sciences. There are various definition of the science of epistemology which all point out that generally, epistemology discusses about belief, justification, episteme validation, and its origin and types. In fact, epistemology is a science that speaks about human episteme, evaluation of its types, and determination of criterion for its truth or untruth (Hoseinzadeh 2003, 17). Text epistemology -as one of the most important sub-branches of epistemology- argues about perceiving and text paraphrasing (which in fact, conceives environment as a text), and constitutes the main context of issues relating to hermeneutics. Since based on text epistemology, many of phenomena can be imagined as a kind of text and review their meanings, epistemology and particularly hermeneutics can be applied to gloss physical environment meaning which is discussed in later part.
4. Epistemology and physical environment meaning
4-1- Audience-oriented approach
According to the claim of some epistemological schools which are influenced by west-
ern contemporary philosophical streams, the environment meaning is generally affected by work audience’s pre-knowledge. These schools, majorly, are influenced by audience-oriented epistemological approach, which on the basis of it, every interpreter is enclosed by a set of pre-knowledge and prejudices influencing his perception and therefore his meaning horizon is the existential condition of achieving environment understanding; not only involving this meaning horizon does not interrupt understanding but also is the prerequisite to achieve it (Raeesi 2006, 52) because understanding is an event that happens when interpreter’s meaning horizon (viewer or environment user) mixes with environment meaning horizon, and this interpreter’s meaning horizon is nothing but his pre-knowledge and expectations. Therefore since human and tradition are historical, fluid, and variable so the process of environment paraphrase is an endless process. This means that contextual environment would be interpreted differently because the message can cover various meaning layers and address many individuals on whom the clarity or vagueness of the message depend (Bowers 2009, 104). New commentators perceive the environment meaning through new meaning horizons, and based on their mental past new understandings happen. Therefore, the subject of episteme (of environment) is reviewed on the basis of audience’s meaning horizon (Parsania 2012, 145) and so, environment audience is who creates environment meanings (Ahmadi 1993, 205). Believing in new understanding emergence in audience-oriented approach mainly has been derived from refusing “author’s intention” which is tracked back to some aesthetic subjects in 19th century. Its philosophical background can be seen in writings of Martin Heidegger, since he was who paved the way to deny author’s intention role in determining final, decisive meaning of the text by removing subject (Ahmadi 1999, 19).
Blurred corners of this matter become clear when the content of his book (Being and Time) is considered, where Heidegger introduces hermeneutic not as a method but as a theory that lead to methodological results (Ahmadi 2002, 562). According to this notion, the meaning of a sign is not its content but is achieved merely by its interpretation (Sojudi 2009, 30), and so there is no final meaning for an environment that one can consider as a text (Barthes 1990, 22). Actually, meaning is endless and unreachable in a certain object (Nesbitt 1996, 50) as language mainly is formed by meaning absence (Derrida 1974, 84) and architectural text, also as a component of Language set, is a text consisting endless texture of endless meanings (Derrida 1974, 84). Therefore, available signifiers in a text do not relate us to certain signifieds (Zeymaran 2005, 73) and so physical environment meaning range is totally open and dynamic.
The cause of emphasizing on the maximum openness of environment meaning range in this approach is relatedness of texts and emergence of a concept called intertextuality. Intertextuality is a concept about work participation in dialogic space of a culture, the relationship between a text and languages and its relation with those texts which produce that culture possibilities (Culler 1981, 114), that makes our environment change through a continuous transforming process and become historical (Johanson & Larsen 2002, 4). According to the intertextuality concept, texts are parts of a social, cultural, and historical system which understanding each of them requires achieving the available network in
this system (Zeymaran, Ibid, 173). Since key concepts in a text is dependent to unspoken reciprocal relations between them and the absent signifiers (Chandler 2002, 227) that is present in other texts. So words meanings relate to text and circumstances in which are expressed, and meaning is produced by the interactive process of common rules and plays that we do with Language (Wood 2002, 27). Accordingly, Nietzsche claims there are only paraphrases, there is no meaning separated from the paraphrase and meanings are countless (Nietzsche 1968-267). This meaning multiplicity is affected by the amalgamation process of audience’s meaning horizons and the text’s itself that seems to be independent from each other (Gadamer 1989, 146). This is the reason why Bressler openly advises that when facing with a contextual work, allow the text meaning to be unstable and uncertain (Bressler 2007, 128). Profound Analysis of this uncertainty leads us to one of the basic principles in audience-oriented approach named “cognition relativity”. According to this principle, since cognition relativity is prerequisite of this philosophical foundation (Javadi-Amoli 2008, 271) the process of cognition and subsequently the environment paraphrase is a continuous activity that always must go towards perfectionness and any final certainty for it is rejected (Mahmoodi-Nejad 2008, 68). According to interpretation of cognition process in this approach, our perception and understandings are affected by reality imagination not reality itself (Lash 1990, 24) that for each group follows its values, beliefs, and traditions (Kress & Leeuwen 1996, 159).
Further explanation is that according to this approach, what causes every meaning to be acceptable for every environment is that basically, except experimental sciences, in other cases such as human sciences, art, and many others, it is impossible to deal with object totality and evaluate its aspects comprehensively, since these affairs are indefinite, variable, and interminable, and it is not possible to consider them as completed affairs and recognize them. So subjects such as human, history, tradition, and art are of ones that can’t be really understood (Hoseinzadeh 2007, 168). So, except experimental science objects, other objects are not real objectivities but they relate to audience subjectivity; and since audiences possess different presuppositions and prejudices, the meaning of a physical environment is not presented in its signs directly (Eagleton 1983, 128) and each audience perceives the meaning distinct from others, independent from author’s intention (architect’s) which all of them, according to this approach are justifiable and acceptable.
Accordingly, Gombrich says about contextual pictures that they, depending on viewer’s subjectivities and prejudices and regardless of the author’s intention, possess extensive semantic implications and could not indicate true or false proposition (Gombrich 1972, 82). Since this is the special character of this philosophical approach that expresses subject recognizing has presuppositions which are really considered its aim, the ultimate principle of modern hermeneutic is not otherwise (Gadamer 1986, 182). Thus, based on this approach, the ultimate aim of paraphrase is not dependent to author’s intention discovering but to widening presuppositions and prejudices of audience that emerge repeatedly in historical confrontations (Palmer 1969, 181).
As prerequisite of this perspective to the process of environment meaning paraphrase is getting rid of meaning implications chain (Adorno 2004, 206), architects who are follower to epistemological bases of audience-oriented approach, to create their works look for a kind of architecture that avoid reference, not suggesting to mind a closed and certain meaning range. In order to fulfill this uncertainty, they use some factors such as free and undetermined spaces, anti-hierarchical geometries, and slippery and unpredictable surfaces to design physical environment (Hakim 2003, 4; Shirazi 2003, 13). Because in these kinds of non-Euclidean geometries no surface and space have semantic preference and it’s the audience himself who depending on his pre-understandings, recreates his favorite meaning. Therefore, these architects have been able greatly to fulfill in their designs this Theodor Dossburg’s saying that modern architecture does not search to place different spaces into a cube but it disperses spaces with different functions so that, Length, width, height and time move toward a new and flexible expression of free space (Curtis 2007, 41).
As noted, the main reason why this group of philosophers – architects use this kind of designs should be sought in their perspectives over the subject of environment meaning. They believe in understanding relativity and its impressionability from tradition, history, etc. and so they avoid geometries corresponding with absolutism and dogmatism, essentially they do not believe in stability concept and consider each concept and cognition as relative. Praising this relativism and avoiding absolutism, Eisenman, in his article “En Terror Firma, In Trails of Grotexes” says uncertainty is now a double gift that its content naturally must be found, architect must change his old way of spatial perception; This change has an outcome that makes, the imagination of a house or any kind of space occupation seek a more sophisticated form of beauty (Eisenman 1988, 115).
As it is shown in figure 1, a general model of effective components interaction in the process of environment meaning paraphrase according to audience-oriented approach is provided. As it can be seen, a final point in this model is not considered and environment meaning is always uncertain and unreachable in the hermeneutical cycle system, because an environment is trapped within a system of texts and other works, as a knot in to a network (Foucault 1974, 23) that tarnishes its meaning certainty. At the end of this section, before explaining the second approach (author-oriented), a brief summary of epistemological consequences of audience-oriented approach is provided:
- The process of physical environment meaning paraphrase is an endless process, as the environment is an open text which is readable through the endless nature of the Language (Barthes 1998, 375). In other words, the environment, being free from semantic indication halts, like the language, is converted into a purpose within itself (Adorno 2004, 206).
- Audience’s prejudices are existential conditions to gain the perception of the environment meaning. In fact, we don’t explore a pre-existing meaning but we create a new meaning based on our senses and desires (Ahmadi 1993, 205). Of course, based on Gadamer’s pleadings, interfering prejudices that cause misunderstandings must be avoided.
- Because of time lapse between interpreter and the text and also interference of interpreter’s semantic horizon in paraphrase process, it is not possible to reach cognition free from interpreter’s subjectivity. So in environment paraphrase, we face with phenomena not realities. Since there is not a real case, what exists is relative (Flaubert 1993, 370).
- In the process of environment meaning paraphrase, the author or architect is merely a sign-maker not a certain element in the environment, and the process of understanding is the production of mixing the audience semantic horizon and the environment indications horizon based on the rules of the game (Ahmadi 1999, 315). Applying these rules correctly, is what Bathes believes as the factor to distinguish the virtual author from the real author.
4-2-Author-oriented approach
In Contrast to the epistemological claims that theorists of the audience-oriented approach express, there is another approach called “author-oriented”, though being older than the audience-oriented approach, but nowadays has been methodized and totally codified due to the idea conflicts followed by forming audience-oriented approach in recent decades. In other words, what made author-oriented approach to be theorized totally regulatedly, is a set of criticisms made by some theorists of paraphrase realm on the audience-oriented approach. The following, these criticisms are expressed briefly:
- The first critique made by author-oriented approach on epistemological foundations of audience-oriented approach is that if any cognition and paraphrase is undetermined and relative, why its principles and doctrine and also its analysis of the nature of cognition are thought as absolute and non-relative propositions? If all understandings are derived from the audience’s pre-understanding and subjectivities, then it can be claimed that the analysis of the nature of understanding belonged to Gadamer, Eisenman, and Tschumi, is affected by their prejudices and so is relative and has not absolute value. Thus, the first critique on the audience-oriented approach is its self-destruction, i.e. its inclusion over itself requires its non-inclusion (Amoli-Larijani 1998, 95).
- Based on theorists’ opinion of audience-oriented approach such as Gadamer, some prejudices are productive but some are non-productive which lead to misunderstandings. But, they have not provided any criterion to distinguish between these two prejudices and they have not said how one can prevent misunderstanding which is derived from non-productive prejudices while to distinguish between understanding and misunderstanding, we must have a criterion to prevent misunderstanding (Holub 2005 , 97).
- The audience-oriented proponents neglect this fact that the physical environment, in its essence, has always two components: pres-
ent and absent; signified and signifier. They try to highlight “absent” by retrogressing “present” and the environment be read as an independent text separated from its creator’s will and intention. This viewpoint has an unavoidable consequence that ‘closing in on the message essence (work essence) loses its meaning’ (Ayatollahi 2009, 56) and so causes the semantic dialogue between architect, audience, and environment to be irregular and a kind of epistemological anarchism in the process of environment meaning paraphrase would be occurred.
- Basically, it is impossible to reserve consistency of contextual environment identity without considering its author’s intention. That means any distinction and unity that a text has depends on its author’s oriented intention toward a meaning, and as this certain element plays a focused role to create the text, it plays the same role in its continuity. In fact, there is no difference in this regard between the moment of authorship and the moments afterwards. Thus the author is alive in authorship status and afterwards, and the language and text never can make him absent in the process of environment meaning paraphrase (Kachueian 2003, 12)
- All reasons which can be presented for cognition abstraction and its non-materiality prove its non-relativity too. Since what is not material, is free from movement and gradualness and is stable and permanent (Javaidi-Amoli 2002, 279).
-The audience-oriented approach leads to devastating consequences in the context of human understanding, of the most important are the decline and destruction of cultural and artistic interactions. Because its analysis of the nature of cognition is such that it justifies any understanding and can’t judge between various paraphrases to determine one superior or others (Vaezi 2003, 133). Naturally, this view leads to halt any criticism and any understanding evaluation and that is naturally leads to the decline of the understanding and episteme value (Hoseinzadeh, ibid, 172). Indeed, if the understanding loses its value to that extent and any paraphrase be justified, it is not possible to suppose any certain frame and principle for cultural, intellectual interaction and understanding.
From above critiques, the theoretical frame of author-oriented approach is extracted in which author (architect) plays a significant role in audience’s understanding of the environment. Figure 2 shows general model of effective components interaction in the process of environment meaning paraphrase based on author-oriented approach. According to this model, the physical environment bears a certain meaning rises from author (architect)’s intent and can be accessed through a regulated process. The following a review of epistemological consequences of this approach in understanding the environment meaning is cited briefly:
- Audience’s pre-understandings interference in the process of environment meaning paraphrase is not a justifiable reason to put aside author’s intent in this process. So, the main duty of paraphraser (audience) is that he must recognize the author’s logic, his approach, and in short, his world and so, the final criterion is author’s thoughts reconstruction (Hirsh 1976, 242). Therefore, during confronting an environmental object, we must find out its central subject by decoding images and signs (Buthler 1999, XTX).
- Based on this approach, the main and final meaning of the environment is an accessible reality. Since, each text has a meaning corresponded with the author’s mind, and discovering it through reviewing his work, though is a tough duty, but is not impossible (Ahmadi, 2002, 497) and through decoding physical environment signs, its author’s (architect’s) intent can be gained.
- Audience’s paraphrase of environment cannot be a free, irregular paraphrase. In other words, that the text is potentially endless does not mean that every paraphrase leads to a satisfied result (Eco 1994, 17) and so every physical environment meaning includes a certain limit that depends on the knowledge and is concluded from it (Hirsh 1967, 22).
- Based on opinions of author-oriented theorists, believing in endless meanings of an environment, derives from the wrong distinguishing between intention-like subject and intention-like action. That means what is more than one, is the single meaning indications to audiences i.e. endless intention-like actions which in audience-oriented approach are supposed wrongly the same as meaning (Ahmadi ibid, 595). While, intention-like action corresponds with paraphrase that is variable and multiple, and intention-like subject corresponds with meaning that is fixed and unit.
4-3- Text-oriented approach (Islamic viewpoint)
Since Islam has not been indifferent to total or partial sciences, even has presented generalities and principles as resources for minutiae explanation (Javadi-Amoli 2002, 171), thus for the problem of the present paper, an approach extracted from Islamic doctrine can be presented that in what follows, the author tries to codify it.
Based on Islamic viewpoint, a work manifests its cause and covers the cause in itself (Javadi-Amoli 2003, 212). Manifestation of the cause in the work (built environment) is a matter which is confirmed in Islamic authentic texts, of those is the hadith of imam Ali (A): “Human is hidden behind his tongue” (Nahjolbalaghe, Hekmat 148). He confirms the relation of cause and work in another hadith too: “Inteleccts are leaders of thoughts and thoughts are leaders of hearts and hearts are leaders of senses, and senses are leaders of organs” (Bahar-al-anvar, volume1, 96). According to this hadith, what is emanated by organs (i.e. works or built environments), in previous stages, is resulted from cause’s (creator or author)’s world of thoughts and concepts.
So, to read an environment meaning, the cause (author) has an undeniable role. The most prominent elements of the author which kick in the forming of environment meaning are his ideas and ideals but beside them, his method and style of creating environment plays a role in forming and consequently paraphrase of environment meaning (Noghrekar 2009, 163).
Thus the environment meaning is affected by author’s (architect’s) conscious and uncon-
conscious ideas and ideals, and thereafter the way he chooses to manifest those ideas and ideals in appearances and physical bodies. But, the environment audience is the final item in which the paraphrase process ends with, that based on the human definition provided at the beginning of this article, comprises of different realms and souls. The main distinguishable aspect between this approach and two formers is to notice these realms and souls which are very important both in creating environment meaning and audience’s perceptual meaning from environment. Because if we give the environment two aspects of explicit and implicit (meaning) (Nasr 1987, 139; Naghizadeh & Aminzadeh 2001, 28), its meaning can be extracted from author’s (architect’s) vegetal and animal souls that are illusion-oriented, resulting to demonic arts; or extracted from his intellectual and spiritual (divine) souls that are truth-oriented, resulting to divine arts (A’vani 1997, 346). In this way, the audience’s paraphrase of the environment meaning- depending on which soul it is based on- is allocated a specific place among the hierarchy of environment meaning. Whenever the audience’s perceptions at the moment of paraphrase is extracted from his intellectual and spiritual (divine) souls, his semantic perceptions are real and luciferous otherwise (if extracted from his vegetal and animal souls) are unreal and Cimmerian (Khomeini 2009, 322). So paraphrase process is affected by different human souls from two aspects (Author and audience) (Figure 3).
In addition to human’s different souls, based on Islamic viewpoint, there is another important element playing role in the paraphrase process, called audience’s relative pre-understandings which is affected by time and local relative circumstances. Factors like audience’s pre-experiences that are various in different time, local and cultural circumstances are of those pre-understandings (Sasani 2003, 183). Considering the effects of these relative elements on the process of meaning paraphrase, this matter that human beings have different perceptions and interpretations of a single environment in different societies because of various cultural conditions (Barati 2004, 60; Naghizadeh 2002, 256; Grutter 2010, 49) is an acceptable fact.
Figure 3: Dignity of different souls in the process of environment paraphrase based on Islamic viewpoint (Source: Author)
According to Islamic teachings, besides relative elements, the real and stable element of nature (Fetrat) in the process of meaning paraphrase is considerable and meaning paraphrase is the resultant of all these elements. Because this process has both stable and natural aspects and variable and relative aspects, so making each one of them absolute destroys artistic-cultural interactions between human beings (Noghrekar 2011, 22). Based on what was said, if the paraphrase is being one side of audience-architect relationship (the other side is artistic symbolism and encoding), in audience-architect interaction generally and in environment meaning paraphrase particularly, both relative elements (time and local variables) and the real and stable element of the nature (Fetrat) which is the groundwork of audience-architect semantic dialogue should be considered.
5- Conclusion
As conclusion, a curt comparative examining of different approaches in the process of environment meaning paraphrase is provided (Chart 1).
Chart 1: Comparative examining of different approaches in the process of environment meaning paraphrase
(Source: Author)
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Paraphrastic domain of environment</th>
<th>Paraphrastic hierarchy of environment</th>
<th>Basic rule in the process of environment meaning paraphrase</th>
<th>Major component in the process of environment meaning paraphrase</th>
<th>Effective components in the process of environment meaning paraphrase</th>
<th>Approach</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Open and irregular</td>
<td>Horizontal hierarchy</td>
<td>Recreating the environment meaning based on audience pre-understandings</td>
<td>Audience</td>
<td>Audience, Environment, Intertextuality (Other texts and environments)</td>
<td>Audience-oriented</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Closed and regular</td>
<td>No hierarchy</td>
<td>Discovering the environment meaning based on the architect’s intention recognition</td>
<td>Author (Architect)</td>
<td>Audience, Environment, Author (Architect)</td>
<td>Author-oriented</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Open and regular</td>
<td>Vertical hierarchy</td>
<td>Discovering the environment meaning based on the real (invariable) and relative (variable) components of the audience, architect and environment</td>
<td>Environment</td>
<td>Audience, Environment, Architect’s idea, Architect’s practical method</td>
<td>Text-oriented (Islamic viewpoint)</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
According to chart 1, following items can be concluded:
- In audience-oriented approach, physical environment meaning is an inaccessible and totally indefinite variable; while in author-oriented approach, the meaning is stable, unit and accessible that is resulted from architect’s (author’s) intention. The meaning in the text-oriented approach is accessible too; however with this difference that it is not unit and has vertical hierarchy. In that manner, the meaning does not have a single manifestation, but different manifestations of environment meaning are unity-oriented and form a vertical relation (and not horizontal as the audience-oriented approach claims). So, based on theoretical foundation of this paper, particularly the anthropology and epistemology fundamentals of this research, what seems reasonable in regarding the domain of physical environment meaning is the text-oriented approach, and the two others are unjustified rationally because they lack scientific justifications.
- What has caused audience-oriented and author-oriented approaches to go to extremes in explanating the domain of environment meaning is their incomplete and non-comprehensive attention to human, his different realms and souls and also neglecting the vertical relationship between meaning and environment based on the concept of meaning emanation in appearance. Therefore, firstly, the audience-oriented approach is negligent of the fact that human possesses, besides relative and variable aspects, an stable and non-relative reality that Islamic thought call it “Fetrat (nature)”, and the author-oriented approach is also negligent of this fact that the audience is affected by relative aspects besides the stable and real aspect to review the architect’s intention, which the relative aspects can be resulted from introversive elements (such as audience’s pre-knowledge and pre-understandings) or from extroversive elements (such as various time and local circumstances). Secondly, according to Islamic teachings, the audience-oriented approach is negligent of the reality of art (including art of physical environment designing) which is the manifestation of concepts in appearances, and also the author-oriented approach reduces the concept of manifestation to embodiment. By the way, It can be concluded that the influence of relative and variable aspects in the process of the environment meaning paraphrase make the domain of physical environment meaning not totally closed and limited and it is possible to consider a certain hierarchy for it, and so the relation between environment physics and its meaning is neither embodiment nor a free relation, but a kind of manifestation and emanation.
- According to Islamic epistemological and anthropological principles, the openness of the environment meaning domain does not mean to accept any meaning for an environment, and the environment meanings must be perceived orderly, within a recognized frame. The main groundwork of this frame is human’s divine nature (as the common differentiation of all human beings) that guarantees intellectual and artistic interactions between them. Based on Islamic doctrine, meanings out of this frame are referred to as self-interpretative or eisegesis which there are so many expressions in Islamic teachings to censure them. So the environment has capacity to implant different meanings however, if those meanings are perceived systematically far from self-Interpretative, they will form a vertical system. In this manner, the more the audience is ca-
pable of rereading meanings, the deeper his paraphrase in the environment Interpretative system is. Meanings out of the frame of this system are perceived as self-Interpretative without any validity.
- In a comprehensive view, physical environment meaning paraphrase is based on four elements: architect’s idea, architect’s practical method, audience, and physical environment itself. Among these, the final element which paraphrase process ends in, is the audience that is composed of different realms and souls; accordingly, audience’s paraphrase value follows two issues: first, audience’s status in terms of the realm and soul in paraphrase moment and second, his skills and abilities to use his stable and variable property (such as pre-understandings and etc.).
Footnotes:
1. As Barthes believes, virtual author knows the language as an instrument to get purposes beyond itself. He faces a known purpose through a direct path. He tries whatever he writes to have a unit meaning. A meaning that the reader understands it, in other words it should be imposed on the reader. His word is such a scientific word that has the ideal of a final meaning. However, the real author is initially attracted by his instrument, i.e. the language. The language is his major purpose. He is engaged in vocabularies not the world and does not intend to create a final and certain meaning. He well knows that he is doing the creation of a world of meanings (Ahmadi 2002, 230).
2. It is necessary to note that the audience’s perception and what is injected into his mind is affected by various elements regardless of which souls the injections are derived from and can be classified as follows:
- Pre-nature (Fetrat): the common part of human beings understanding that leads to the same understanding, perception and comprehension.
- Pre-knowledge: It is derived from one’s social, cultural, and familial teachings and findings, which is common between people in a culture or subculture and may leads to some subcultural or cultural misunderstandings.
- Pre-experience: Comes back to each person’s individual experiences and in fact, is quite personal (relative) part of pre-understanding and ultimately makes maximum difference in perceptions.
- Pre-judice: In regards to interpreter’s purpose and expectations makes early judgment and gives his interpretation a certain direction (Sasani 2003, 183).
References:
1- The holy Quran.
Explanation of the Structure of the Human Processes based on Islamic Principles (Strategies and Solutions for Creating Art, Architecture and Urbanism)
Abdolhamid Noghrekar / Samaneh Taghdir
Reading and Understanding Continuity and Change in Spatial Organization of Local Houses (Case study: sabzevar city)
Gholam hosein Memarian / Seyyed Mahdi Madahi / Arash Sayyadi
Divine Vision: Islamic Arts and Horizontal Thought
Seyed Gholamreza Islami / Niloufar Nikghadam / Seyyed Yahya Islami
An analytic overview on the rise of cyber spaces and the Islamic Society: An urban challenge or natural transition of cities?
Reza Kheyroddin / Omid Khazaeian
Paraphrasing the meaning of physical environment; comparative examining of audience-oriented, author-oriented and text-oriented (Islamic) approaches
Mohammad Mannan Raeesi
A Comparison of thermal comfort in traditional and modern Bazaar from direct solar radiation perspective, Using questionnaire and Ecotect simulation – A case of Shiraz in Iran
Zahra Barzegar / Maryam Rasaeipoor / Heydar Jahan Bakhsh
Analyzing the geometry of Iranian Islamic gardens based on the Quran’s characteristics of paradise
Omid Rahaei
Recognition of the impacts of consecration culture on the social-physical frame of urban neighborhoods (Case study: Neighborhoods of district 12 of Tehran)
Mitra Ghafourian / Elham Hesari / Mina PeySokhan |
VIOLIN BAROQUE PIECES ON SOPRANO SAXOPHONE
THROUGH THE TRANSCRIPTION OF CAPRICE NO. 26 FOR VIOLIN SOLO BY PIETRO LOCATELLI
Benjamin Falces Vaquero 3115631 (classic saxophone)
Research Supervisor: Jarmo Hoogendijk
# TABLE OF CONTENTS
1. **Introduction**
- Motivation
- Research process (research questions)
- Context of the research
2. **Background information**
- About Pietro Locatelli
- About Caprice 26
- Analysis of Caprice 26
3. **Baroque transcriptions**
- Bach transcriptions by other composers
- Bach transcriptions by himself
- Transcriptions by other composers
- Examples of changes Bach made in transcriptions
4. **Questionnaires**
- For saxophonist who have transcribed and played baroque violin pieces
- For violin players
- For baroque experts
5. **Recordings list**
6. **Appendix (for the last versión of the research)**
- Transcription by myself of Caprice 26
- Scores of baroque transcriptions
- Videos explaining my transcription and performance
- Answers of questionnaires (I will put it just here instead of during the research in the last versión)
- Bibliography
- Interviews (I will put in the research a transcriptions of some parts)
- Urtext of Caprice 26
- Score I have transcribed of Caprice 26
- Recording list (will be into the appendix for the last versión of the research)
INTRODUCTION
As a saxophone player I only can play music by the composers from the 20th century, because as we know, the saxophone is a really new instrument and when the composers started to compose long, hard and serious pieces for saxophone was already in the 20th century. But as a performer I must understand all periods in the music history for to be able to understand how the performance and music works and what is his development during the history. Nobody can became in a good player without play before composers like Bach, Beethoven, Mozart and many others who lived before the first saxophone was invented. For this reason, for a saxophonist is very important play transcriptions and understand how was the music in others periods in which there are not music wrote for our instrument. We are not only a saxophone players, we are also a performers. Through this research I will try to find the best way for transcribe and also for play this pieces on saxophone. I will do it through making my own transcription and performance, which is recorded in a serie of videos, and later, making a few lists of the problems I had and how I have solved it, the transcriptions of the violin resources and the interpretation of these effects. The videos are just the first approach of the transcriptions and answers to the questions and problems of the research based in my own experiencia. For get the right information for do it, I will also ask to a few saxophonist who have played and transcribed this kind of pieces through a questionaries. Finally I will compare all the recordings I can get of the Caprice 26 by P.Locatelli for have a clear idea of the right performance on violin and how can I play as closed as possible of the original and specially of the style.
I chose a violin piece because there are much more similarities between the saxophone and the violin than people thinks. During my bachelor years I learned that the acoustic of the saxophone, the voice and the violin are too closed. The harmonics of a saxophone sound has are similar than the violin. Also there are characteristics in the way the saxophones play which remind a violin such as the vibrato, legato, the sound when plays piano, the sound in the altissimo and lowest register… and I think this is the reason why so many saxophone players choose a violin pieces for transcribe, play and sometimes record. Also a baroque piece allows more changes in a transcription than a piece from other periods. For example, in many transcriptions by Bach of pieces which were made originally for violin, has a lot of changes for make it more playable and usefull on organ. I will know, through the questionaires I have made for saxophone players who have played and transcribed this pieces, why is a good choice transcribe and play this pieces on saxophone and if that is the reason because there are so many baroque pieces transcribed on this instrument.
As I said, there are so many violin pieces played on saxophone but especially there are much more pieces from the baroque period. I have listened almost all the most important baroque violin pieces transcribed and played on saxophone and many of them recorded. The Seasons and Concertos by Vivaldi, Partitas and Concertos by Bach, Corelli, and many others are a few examples. Normally these pieces are transcribed on soprano saxophone, maybe because the characteristics and sound of this instrument are more closed to the violin sound.
As we can see through the music history, the way violinist play makes the composers write in a specific way. This instrument is maybe the most used by the composers and many times is the instrument which provides the way we think the music. For example, there are many pieces wrotes for a different instruments which ti seems wrotes for a violin. Saxophonist we have for
example the Concerto in E dur by Lars Erik Larsson, a famous piece for our instrument that maybe would sounds much better on violin because it seems wrote for it. This is an other reason why I chose a violin piece for transcribe. I also ask it to saxophonist in the questionaries I made.
In my opinion, there is a saxophonist who has changed the way we understand a violin transcriptions for saxophone. He is Raaf Hekkema, who has got play the pieces exactly like the original sound, I mean, playing things which before seemed impossible like doble strings using the multiphonics of the saxophone and singing at the same time he plays, changes of strings in the same note using changes of fingerings, microtones for imited the little changes of the tuning of a violin... But there is only one person who has made it! Because this revolutionary things Raaf made and also from the virtuosic way in which other great saxophonist, Vincent David, plays this kind of music I believe in a performance made by a saxophone that can be exactly like a violin in some parts which is requiered. This is really helpfull for us, because if we can play it better, we can understand music non original for our instrument and we can improve much more as a performers. Then, there are no many people who investigate for to achieve a more violinistic performance, but there are much more possibilites for improve it. This is the reason I chose this subject, for try to improve our knowledge about the issue and make this kind of pieces more playable on saxophone and especially make it more closed to the original performance by a violin. I will make an interview to Raaf Hekkema for get mor information about how can we play it and also I will have a lesson with a violinist expert in baroque. I will record that lesson and I will transcribe the most useful parts of the conversations for the research for to be able to know how is posible play violin resources on saxophone.
I have choosen Caprice number 26 by Locatelli because, at first, is a piece for violin alone and there are no relationship between the solist and the ensemble or accompanist. It could be a problem because is also a important characteristic in each piece. For example, if a violin play as a solist with a orchestra, the ideal transcription on saxophone should be solist saxophone and saxophone ensemble as a accompanist. The relationship between a string instruments, bigger or smaller (violin, cello) would be the same than a saxophone bigger or smaller (soprano, baritone). On the other hand, this is the piece I was looking for because it have a lot of violin effects and resources and this is really helpfull for to know how should be transcribed many violin vocabulary. Also, the caracter of a "caprice" allows a bit of freedom in the performance and also in the transcriptions. It is helpfull for to make a few changes in the transcription and the interpretation and for to make it more playable still into the style of the piece. Furthermore, as I said, baroque pieces allows a few more changes in a transcription than pieces from other periods. For this reason, I will try to know what and which kind of changes can I do in baroque transcriptions and I will achieve it comparing original pieces with their transcriptions made by baroque transcribers during this period and also making questionaries for baroque experts. Also I should try to know why the baroque composers transcribed their own pieces and many by others for get the origin of the transcription concept and then, to make the best transcription and performance as possible.
ABOUT PIETRO LOCATELLI
Pietro Antonio Locatelli (born September 3, 1695, Bergamo, Venice (Italy) - died March 30, 1764, Amsterdam, Netherlands) was an Italian violinist and composer, one of the first great violinists who practiced virtuosity, thereby extending the technical vocabulary of the violin. He is perhaps best known for his L’Arte del violino, a group of 12 violin concertos with 24 capriccios ad libitum (26 with two capriccios added form Sonatas) for solo violin extracted form each concertos.
When Locatelli went to Amsterdam in 1729, he discovered the centre of European music publishing. He published his Opp. 2–6, 8 and 9 and a new edition of Op. 1 in Amsterdam, and Op. 7 in the neighbouring city of Leiden. He took great care to achieve flawless editions. Locatelli obtained a privilege which protected Opp. 1–8 (which were also issued in Leiden) from unauthorised reprints and prevented the import of reprints. In his application for the privilege he referred to himself as an "Italian music master living in Amsterdam". As a consequence of the privilege, Locatelli had to give free copies to the Leiden university library; therefore, first prints have been preserved up to the present. An exception was Op. 9, which was published after the expiry of the legal protection.
Locatelli's works can be divided into three categories: works for his own performances as a virtuoso; representative works for larger ensembles; chamber music and small works arranged for small ensembles.
Examples of virtuoso works are the Violin Concertos Op. 3 with their associated Capricci, and the Violin Sonata Op. 6 with one Capriccio. Both works, and especially Op. 3, were standards for virtuosos and made him famous throughout Europe. The Capricci were important study and exercise pieces but were not intended for public performance. It was probably through French violin schools that musicians such as Niccolò Paganini discovered Locatelli’s music. Paganini's Capriccio Op. 1, Nr. 1 is similar to Locatelli’s Capriccio Nr. 7.
A few of his most important Works are: Op. 1 (1721) – XII Concerti grossi à Quattro e à Cinque; Op. 3 (1733) – L’Arte del Violino; XII Concerti Cioè, Violino solo, con XXIV Capricci ad libitum, (12 violin concertos with 24 Capriccios ad lib.); Op. 6 (1737) – XII Sonate à Violino solo e Basso da Camera, (12 violin sonatas); Op. 9 (1762) – VI Concerti a quattro (6 four-parts concerti); Concerto A major, for violin, 2 violins, viola and basso continuo; Sonata in G minor, for violin and basso continuo.
ABOUT CAPRICE 26
The Art of the Violin Op.3, 12 Concertos for violin, strings and continuo, and 24 Caprices for violin solo were published in 1733. It is a collection of twelve concertos for solo violin, strings and continuo. Each of the twelve concertos in L’arte del violino contain the traditional three movements, with the typical progression of two faster movements surrounding a slower, more contemplative middle movement. In each concerto, the two outer movements contain what is known as a capriccio. These capricci, can be described as a kind of written-out violin “cadenza”
played extemporaneously during which the soloist is given ample opportunity to display his or her skill with the instrument. The capricci intervals contradict the expected format of the solo concerto by occurring before the reexposition (final ritornello of the tutti). It is these 24 extraordinary capricci intervals for which L'arte del violino attained its fame, for they are described as "the most difficult violin display passages of all Baroque literature." Normally these carices are performed separately from the concerts, as extracts from their first and third movements. The Art of the Violin also contains two caprices more, which are extracts of two Sonatas by the same composer. Finally, we have 26 caprices, 24 from the 12 concertos and two added from the 12 Sonate da Camera op.6. Each of these concerts (and caprices) are written in a different keys, inspired by “The Well-Tempered Claiver”. Also these caprice remind those who Niccolo Paganini wrote 80 years later, also of great virtuosity and in 24 different keys.
Locatelli’s virtuosity is reflected in the Capricci through the use of high registers, double stopping, chords and arpeggios with wide fingering and overextension of the left hand, harmonics, trills in two-part passages (Trillo del Diavolo), double trills, varied bow types and variable bowings.
L’arte del violino was first published by the publishing house of Roger-Le Cene in Amsterdam, where Locatelli resided from the year 1729 until his death in 1764.
The last caprice is the piece I will play, transcribe, analize and use for find the right way for transcribe and play these kind of pieces on soprano saxophone. The caprice number 26 is a extract form the 12th Sonate op.6 by this composer. Is a really virtuosistic piece if we think that the “virtuosism” was a strange concept in the Baroque period. But Locatelli is a composer from the late Baroque, and between him and Paganini there are only 80 years. This caprice tries to explore all the possibilities violin have or that Baroque composer know about the violin and also it is known by the name “Prova de la Intonazione” referring to all the big intervals the caprice has.
**ANALYSIS OF THE CAPRICE 26**
As the transcriber I should make a few changes in the piece for make it more playable and more "baroque" on saxophone. My goal is to be able to know what are the kind of changes I can do and for know it I must be aware of things happen into the piece in terms of harmony, phrasing, form, etc. Then, is really needed to make an analysis of the piece and his harmony and parts.
"Caprice" is not a form in itself. This word means something like "capricious". We can think in something not strict in which you can take a bit of freedom and try to find your way for play it. But the performance is a different thing than the analysis. For do this last one we should think in a serie of different themes and textures. Then, we can say that a caprice don’t have a established form, it is just many different sentences together. But in this case, I have tried to find a way of divide the piece in a different bigger parts. Of course, each time a new sentence
or texture or whatever appear, I consider it as another or new part, but for try to make more big sections I have divide the piece as a A - B – C – CODA (cadenza).
The piece starts in D major. The first part is from the beginning to the bar 48. I decided to mark all this part as a whole section because the part after this one which will be much longer and also with a clear texture during many bars. At first, we have a long section with the first theme repeated 4 times transposed as: tonic - dominant - tonic - A major (dominant key). This is the part "1" and after that starts 3 smaller parts "2" (bars 19 - 29), "2" (b. 30 - 37) and "3" (b. 38 - 48).
Now a new big section ("B") appears. It is a long section with a lot of 6th and big intervals into the same texture from the bar 49 to the bar 107. After a few short sentences I decide put in this point a new big section because is the most clear difference you can find in this kind of piece. It starts at bar 49 ("1") and at bar 92 something is changing but is still in the same texture and then, it is into "B" but we call it "2". In "2" we can see a main voice and a pedal in each bar which together makes the same melody than in "1" (major scale). It finish in a cadence and on the third beat of the bar 107 start "3", still with big jumps but with the inversion of the interval changing the octave: inversion of 6th: 3rd + octave = 10th. In "B" happens something like in "A": a bigger part and a few smaller for finish it. Then, the middle section made with 6th and 3rd I called it "B" and I have considered it as one section.
In the bar 115 something is changing. Appears first time from many bars ago a really closed interval (unison) as a contrast with the last part and it is developed little by little as unison, second, third, fourth, etc. We can see only one sixth during this beginning of the section and this is the reason I considered call it "C" from the bar 115. In this section there are not a common theme, motif or interval, and also each part is really short for divide it as a different parts like the sections before. In this case I have not put numbers but I have divided each short sentence or texture with a few marks.
As the score indicates, from the bar 150 from the end there is a "cadenza" that has the function of "coda". Contrasting with the last parts because the performer can take a bit more of freedom but also with a harmony and character which remains the rest of the piece, there are some recordings that plays this last part with a pedal in a basso continuo who don't plays in the rest of the piece except in this last "cadenza".
In the following pages I attach my analysis I done on paper with also the harmonic analysis.
For to know what kind of changes could be allowed when you make a baroque transcription is important, first of all, observe how the baroque composers transcribed for other instruments their own pieces and also pieces by others. As Bach said: "not that music is written for instruments but that instruments (including human voice) are made for music".
The following list includes a few composers form the baroque who transcribed their pieces and others. Specially focused in J.S.Bach, who is considered a master of the transcription art and also one of the first composers who made the transcription a really important thing in music.
- Pieces transcribed by Bach of others composers:
- Concerto in G major, BWV 592 for organ - transcription of a concerto by Prince Johann Ernst of Saxe-Weimar
- Concerto in A minor, BWV 593 for organ – transcription of Antonio Vivaldi’s double violin concerto, Op.3, No.8, RV 522
- Concerto in C major, BWV 595 for organ – first movement concerto, transcription of a composition by Prince Johann Ernst of Saxe-Weimar
- Concerto in D minor, BWV 596 for organ (and a parto f a Cantata) – transcription of Antonio Vivaldi’s Concerto in D minor for two violins and obbligato violoncello, Op.3, No.11 (RV 565)
- Concerto in D major, BWV 972 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in D major Op. 3 No. 9 (RV 230) by Antonio Vivaldi
- Concerto in G major, BWV 973 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in G major, RV 299, by Antonio Vivaldi
- Concerto in D minor, BWV 974 for harpsichord – transcription of Oboe Concerto in D minor by Alessandro Marcello
- Concerto in G minor, BWV 975 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in G minor, RV 316, by Antonio Vivaldi
- Concerto in C major, BWV 976 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in E major Op. 3 No. 12 (RV 265) by Antonio Vivaldi
- Concerto in C major, BWV 977 for harpsichord – original composer unknown
- Concerto in F major, BWV 978 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in G major Op. 3 No. 3 (RV 310) by Antonio Vivaldi
- Concerto in B minor, BWV 979 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in D minor, RV 813, by Antonio Vivaldi
- Concerto in G major, BWV 980 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in B-flat major, RV 383 by Antonio Vivaldi
• Concerto in C minor, BWV 981 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in C minor Op. 1 No. 2 by Benedetto Marcello
• Concerto in B-flat major, BWV 982 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in B-flat major Op. 1 No. 1 by Prince Johann Ernst of Saxe-Weimar
• Concerto in G minor, BWV 983 for harpsichord – original composer unknown
• Concerto in C major, BWV 984 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in C major by Prince Johann Ernst of Saxe–Weimar (BWV 595)
• Concerto in G minor, BWV 985 for harpsichord – transcription of Violin Concerto in G minor, TWV 51, by Georg Philipp Telemann
• Concerto in G major, BWV 986 for harpsichord – original composer unknown
• Concerto in D minor, BWV 987 for harpsichord – transcription of Concerto Op. 1 No. 4 by Prince Johann Ernst of Saxe-Weimar
• Concerto in A minor BWV 1065 for four harpsichords – transcription of the Concerto for 4 violins in B minor RV 580 by Antonio Vivaldi
• Fugue in A major and Fugue in B minor on a themes by Tomaso Albinoni, BWV 950 and BWV 951
As we can observe, the list is only about pieces transcribed for harpsichord and organ. That is because almost all the transcriptions we know by Bach of pieces by others are made for these two instruments. Also we can see many pieces by Antonio Vivaldi, other of the best baroque composers. The work of the Italian composer was a great source of inspiration for Bach, who was an admirer of his music.
- Pieces by Bach transcribed by himself:
• Concerto in A minor BWV 1044 for harpsichord, flute and violin – transcription of Prelude and Fugue in A minor for harpsichord solo BWV 894 (first and third movement) and trio Sonata BWV 527 for organ in D minor
• Concerto in D major BWV 1050 (Brandemburgo no.5) for harpsichord, violin and flute – second movement based in a Louis Marchand’s theme and third movement based in a *giga* by Buxtehude
• Concerto in D minor no.1 BWV 1052 for harpsichord based in a lost violin Concerto in D minor
• Concerto in E major no.2 BWV 1053 for harpsichord based in a lost concerto for probably oboe or *oboe d’amore*
• Concerto in D major no.2 BWV 1054 for harpsichord – transcription of his Concerto in E major for violin BWV 1042
• Concerto in A major no.4 BWV 1055 for harpsichord based in a lost concerto for *oboe d’amore*
• Concerto in F minor no.5 BWV 1056 for harpsichord based in a lost concerto for violin which maybe was in G minor (1st and 3rd movements) and maybe in a oboe concerto in F major which is also a parto of the cantata Ich Steh Mit Einem Fuß im Grabe BWV 156
• Concerto in F major no.6 BWV 1057 for harpsichord based in Concerto de Brandeburgo n.º 4, BWV 1049
• Concerto in C minor BWV 1060 for two harpsichords – transcription of a lost concerto for harpsichord and strings in C minor which we just have a few bars (BWV 1060)
• Concerto in C major BWV 1061 for two harpsichords based in a not finished concerto for harpsichord
• Concerto in C minor BWV 1062 for two harpsichords based in the Concerto for two violins BWV 1043
• Concerto in D minor BWV 1063 for three harpsichords is maybe a transcription of a lost concerto for violin, flute and oboe
• Concerto in C major BWV 1064 for three harpsichords is maybe based in a concerto for three violins in A major BWV 1043/1061
Other baroque composers who transcribed pieces by others:
- Francesco Geminiani by himself:
• Concerto Grosso Op.4 for hapsichord
• Cello Sonatas Op.5 for violin
• Concertos Op.2 and Op.3 were modernized a few years after he composed it
• Concerto Grosso Op.1 for harpsichord and other transcription for trio
- Francesco Geminiani by others:
• A few of 12 Trio Sonata Op.1 by Arcangelo Corelli in a Concerto Grosso
• A few of 12 Sonata da Chiesa Op.3 by Arcangelo Corelli in a Concerto Grosso
• A few of 12 Violin Sonata by Arcangelo Corelli also in a Concerto Grosso
• Cello Sonata in G minor by Henry Eccles on violin
Johann Gottfried Walther is other baroque composer who transcribed a few pieces by many great baroque composers:
As we can observe, there are so many transcriptions made during the baroque period but there are differences between each transcription. For example, there are "modernizations" made by the same composer that composed the piece, there are almost a copies of the music in a different key and different instrumentation and there are also many transcriptions in which we can see a lot of changes such as the key, the added notes, bars, phrases... I will explain a few changes Bach made of the original piece by Vivaldi Concerto in D minor for two violins and obbligato violoncello, Op.3, No.11.
- First movement: From the outset in the original piece, Vivaldi creates an unusual texture: the two violins play as a duet and then are answered by a similar duet for “obbligato” cello and continuo bass. On the organ Bach creates his own musical texture by exchanging the solo parts between hands and having the responding duet on a second manual. Bach's redistribution of the constantly repeated quavers in the original is “no substitute for the lost rhetoric of the strings.”
- Second movement: The dense chordal writing in the three introductory bars of the Grave is unusual and departs from Vivaldi’s specification of "Adagio e spiccato". Bach adapted the fugue to the organ as follows: the pedal does not play the bass line of the original allegro but has an accompanying role, rather than being a separate voice in the fugue; the writing does not distinguish between soloists and tutti; parts are frequently redistributed; and extra semiquaver figures are introduced, particularly over the prolonged pedal point concluding the piece. The resulting fugue is smoother than the original, which is distinguished by its clearly delineated sections. The way Vivaldi inverts the fugue subject must have appealed to Bach.
- Third movement: The scoring for organ in the ritornello and solo episodes of this movement (a form of Siciliano) is unusual in Bach’s writing for organ. The widely spaced chords that accompany the solo melody in the original are replaced by simple chords in the left hand. For Griepenkerl, the sweetness of the melody reflected the tender personality of Wilhelm Friedemann.
- Fourth movement: The last movement is composed in ritornello (A - B – A) form. In the opening bars the first and second violins play in tutti the opening theme with its repeated quavers and clashing dissonances. I can not tell more about changer Bach made here but I can say he used the same theme for the opening chorus of his cantata Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis, BWV 21. It could be understood also as a kind of transcription.
In this piece Bach wrote many different notes but into the same harmonic and rhythmic structure but he get more density and agility like for example in the following part we have in
the picture. He makes a “alberti” bass with the sensible (D sharp). It makes a different color in these bars really interesting because the harmony and rhythm are still there.
At the same time Bach intervenes actively in the score, not only modifying notes already written, but adding new, more personal elements. Elements which also in this case respect the original structure of Vivaldi’s score. As in this other example of the 1st movement of the concert in which Bach transpose the basso continuo to the second voice and the left hand plays a more agile theme which is completely new and sounds like a kind of improvisation.
Also we can see the scores of other transcription which is Concerto in A minor BWV 1044 for harpsichord, flute and violin transcribed in the Prelude and Fugue in A minor for harpsichord solo. In this case we can observe how the original piece is just almost a inspiration (sometimes a bit more) for make the new piece. Bach take the old melody for write a movements of a new piece in which many times the harmony and rhythm and many other characteristics are completely changed. The following picture shows the original piece (for trio) and the next one shows the last “version” using the same melody transformed in the main voice of a fugue.
In this case Bach just conserve the original key and also there are a few rhythm that make us remember the original such as the semiquaver triplet.
These are the kind of changes a composer made during the baroque and I have use the examples of the best transcriber from this period for show it. Then, we should think in how many changes can we do but always writing with a few things from the original. It means that during the baroque they made a lot of changes and specially, they should write thinking in the instrument more than trying to make it exactly like the original but just changing the key.
QUESTIONNAIRES
I have made a few questionnaires with a standards answers for to be able to compare all the answers.
Questionnaire for saxophone players who has transcribed, played and some of them recorded baroque violin pieces on saxophone and specially on soprano saxophone.
1. Do you think E major is a good and comfortable key for play the piece?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
2. Is playable the bar 38 if we play the double strings using the saxophone overtones?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
3. You think is playable and comfortable play the main voice of the beginning (which in the original version has double strings) using descendent arpegios instaed of ascendent arpegios or nothing?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
4. In the bar 92, would be more easy for play it writing octave lower the pedal note of the high voice and changing the fingerings when some note is repeated?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
5. In the theme of the bar 138, could be better play it with the mordent ascendant instead of descendant (starting from the low voice)?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
6. You think the saxophone is an instrument suitable for play this kind of music?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
7. Have you played many transcriptions of violin baroque pieces?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
8. You think the saxophone can imitate a violin in terms of vibrato and sound?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
Questionnaire for violin players
1. You think a dot (.) as an articulation is a good transcription of the typical violin word *martellato*?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
2. You think the symbol "<" plus the word *leggiero* (which also remarks the general character of the piece) is a good translation of the violin sound and articulation when you play on the tip of the bow?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
3. The bar 92 in octave lower is still a bit difficult and high on saxophone. The original is written in octave higher for violin. Is also a too high and difficult register for the violin players?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
4. The double strings which starts at bar 29 provides more emphasis to each eighth-notes?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
5. How much freedom you would take for play the las part *cadenza*?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
6. You think the way violin play make many composers write and think the music in a specific way based on this instrument?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
Questionnaire for baroque experts
1. You think it would be allowed to transpose the piece, for example, a semitone higher (in E flat in C and in F for soprano saxophone)?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
2. At the bar 49, you think it would be accepted, according to the baroque transcription rules, change the 6th in 3th or in arpegies of the chord for example?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
3. You think change the octave at the middle of a phrase would be acceptable as a baroque transcription?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
4. You think during the first part of the piece (beginning - bar 18) I can omit the double strings and would be still near to the original?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
5. The double strings of the bar 139 should be ascendant arpegies (starting from the low voice) instead of descendant?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
6. At the arpegies that starts at bar 144, is a good choice transcribe octave higher the first note of the arpege of B for make a more stable melodic progression B / F# - F# / B - B / F# - F# / B - A etc.?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
7. How free should be the interpretation of the last part (cadence)?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
8. How many freedom can we take for performance a baroque caprice?
a lot / enough / not enough / a little / no
RECORDINGS LIST OF CAPRICE 26 BY PIETRO LOCATELLI
There are no too much recording of this piece on cd and also we just have two live recording in youtube. The reason is because many violinist record "The Art of Violin" as a serio of 12 concertos and their own caprices. Then, we just have 24 caprices from the concertos. But, in the case of the caprice "L'Arte de la Intonazione" is a extract from the 12th Sonata op.6 by the same composer and many violinist don’t include it into the big collection "L'Arte del Violino".
CD RECORDINGS:
Igor Ruhadze – Cd “Locatelli Caprice for Violino Solo”, 2013 Brilliant Classics
Chouchane Sironossian – Cd “L’Ange et le Diable”, 2015 Alpha-Classics
LIVE RECORDING ON YOUTUBE
Luca Fanfoni in Festival Musicale P.A.Locatelli 2014 in Rijksmuseum van Oudheden a Leiden
Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wCvXFxAfOE
Rachel Burton Pine in Ravinia Festival 2014
Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUtEurOB_J4
APPENDIX
In this part I will attach all the resources I have used for make the research. The scores of the original piece, the urtext of the piece, the videos and documents of the interviews, the answers of the questionnaires, the scores of a few original baroque pieces and their transcriptions I have talked about during the research and also the transcription of a few parts (and also conclusions) of a serie of videos in which I explain how I am makeing the transcription and how I try to play it deppending if it is playable or not and if the changes I am doing are better or not allowed. I attach already the videos outside the document. |
All Twelve: Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition
Jerry Gates
All Twelve. Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition
Jerry Gates
Berklee College of Music
Resumo: Aqui é disponibilizado o livro All Twelve. Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition, de Jerry Gates. A obra apresenta uma abordagem prática de técnicas de composição a partir de conceitos operacionais do dodecafonismo.
Palavras-Chave: Composição, Dodecafonismo, Harmonia.
Abstract: The whole book All Twelve. Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition, of Jerry Gates is here available. It deals with practical exploration of dodecaphonic techniques for composition.
Keywords: Composition, Dodecaphonism, Harmony
Introduction
A composer frequently needs to work fast, efficiently and cohesively to get the completed composition, song or film cues to the client before deadline. Over time, it has become clear to me that composers also need many tools, or techniques, in their arsenal to create this music and meet the demand. This is particularly true in the world of commercial music where deadlines, and the threat of never working in this town again, are ways of life. The thought of the downbeat, or beginning of the recording session, is at 9 AM and you are still composing the music at 8 AM, can be a scary feeling!
Presenting techniques pioneered by Los Angeles film composer/orchestrator Jack Smalley and the late composer George Tremblay, All Twelve – Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition, will give the seasoned professional and the budding amateur alike more tools to explore and create with. These techniques are derived from Dodecaphonic, or 12-Tone as they are more commonly known, sources. Because of the random nature that the notes tend to appear in, it is very likely that you will uncover many interesting, and “ear opening,” melodies/chord progressions that you might not otherwise create. One can follow the technique’s to create new and exciting music or use them as methods to get your “composer’s ear” warmed up. This second process can be equated to
an instrumentalist playing scales or other material to get their fingers loosened up before a performance – sometimes the ear needs to have a little help getting warmed up to create too.
The reader should be familiar with an intermediate to advanced level of harmony/music theory to get the most out of this book. The techniques themselves are not difficult to comprehend. However, the extent to which you can apply them will be limited only by your lack of understanding in the above areas.
Above all, have fun exploring this material. Try not to discard an idea because it doesn’t analyze a particular way that you might have been taught. Trust your “ear.”
Table of Contents
Introduction
Glossary of Terms
CD Examples Play List
Chapter 1: Initial Row Construction
Chapter 2: Diatonic Restriction of the Row
Chapter 3: Adding Additional Pitches to a Restricted Row
Chapter 4: Combining Two Restricted Rows
Chapter 5: Variations of the Row via Interpolation/Permutation
Chapter 6: Chorale Composition Using Multiple Related Rows
Chapter 7: Harmonization via the Row
Chapter 8: Melodic Shape
Summary
Biography
Glossary
**Anticipation** – The sounding of a note, pitch or rhythm earlier than expected. Typically, the anticipated note value is a quarter, eighth, or sixteenth in duration. However, longer note values are possible.
**Delayed Attack** – The sounding of a note, pitch or rhythm later than expected. As in the case of anticipated notes, the Delayed Attack’s note value typically is a quarter, eighth, or sixteenth in duration. Again, longer note values are also possible.
**Diatonic Restriction** – The process of extracting notes or pitches, in order of appearance, from a 12-note source that conforms to a predetermined scale or key.
**Dodecaphonic** – Twelve different notes or pitches, also known as “12-Tone.”
**Harmonic Motion** – Frequency of harmonic change, or how often one chord moves to the next.
**Hexachord** – A six-note chord or group of notes. In a 12-tone row, the first six pitches (or the second six pitches) may be called hexachords.
**Order of Appearance** – The order, from left to right, in which a group of pitches presents
themselves.
**Permutation** – The process of reordering a given group of pitches, or row, to create a mathematical variation of the original.
**Reharmonization** – The process of revising the original harmony of a song or composition.
**Retrograde** – Reverse order of pitches.
**Row** - Linear grouping of pitches in a specific order. Often used in the context of Dodecaphonic (12-Tone) music.
**Source Material** – A collection of initial pitches, motives, ideas and phrases that will be developed into a composition.
**Triad** – A vertical grouping of three notes. This grouping typically has a chord quality (sound) of major, minor, augmented or diminished - but doesn't have to (see Vertical Shape). Triads can be *any* three notes sounding together.
**Vertical Shape** - Group of two or more notes played simultaneously that form a particular sound. This grouping does not have to sound major, minor, augmented or diminished. If 3 notes are sounded at once, a triad is formed.
**CD Play List**
1) Chapter 2 – Example 2
2) Chapter 2 – Example 3
3) Chapter 2 – Example 4
4) Chapter 2 – Example 5
5) Chapter 2 – Example 6
6) Chapter 3 – Example 2
7) Chapter 3 – Example 3
8) Chapter 3 – Example 4
9) Chapter 4 – Example 2
10) Chapter 6 – Example 3
11) Chapter 6 – Example 4
12) Chapter 6 – Example 5
13) Chapter 6 – Example 6
14) Chapter 7 – Example 2
15) Chapter 7 – Example 4
16) Chapter 7 – Example 5
17) Chapter 8 - Example 4
18) Chapter 8 – Example 5
19) Chapter 8 – Example 7/8
---
2 Os exemplos musicais estarão disponíveis na plataforma *Soundcloud*.
Chapter 1 – Initial Row Construction
There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of ways to write out twelve pitches without repeating a single note. Sometimes a composer will intentionally create a linear ordering of twelve different pitches (a “row”) with certain predetermined intervals next to each other. This composer is looking for a particular sound palette to work with and knows that a specific combination of notes, in a given order, will achieve this goal – the sound that is being created is already known by the composer. In this case there aren’t many surprises when the composition is being written. This can be a great tool, particularly in the world of commercial music, where “time is money” and there isn’t a great deal of room for experimentation. A downside to this approach is that it is possible to find that we are often using similar groupings of notes for all of our compositions. This happens generally because we get comfortable with the groupings and refrain from trying something new. Perhaps a new approach for some fresh perspective is in order.
Example 1 represents a method for a random ordering of a 12 - note group (row) using the alphabet, your name (or any words/letters that you want to substitute) and the twelve pitches as a guide.
Ex. 1
For Letters: Use Note:
A, M, Y C
B, N, Z C# (Db)
C, O D
D, P D# (Eb)
E, Q E
F, R F
G, S F# (Gb)
H, T G
I, U G# (Ab)
J, V A
K, W A# (Bb)
L, X B
Refer to examples 1 & 2. Using my name, JERRY E. GATES, will give me 11 pitches out of the 12 that I need. The twelfth note will be the last one available. The “J” in JERRY
corresponds to the note A. The “E” in JERRY coincidentally is the same as note E. The first “R” matches the note F. Now what do we do with the second “R” since the note F is already taken? There are two possibilities.
The first is that we can go to the top of the note list and use the first unused note. In this case, and my choice, is to use the note C. This note has not yet been used. The second possibility, which is a little less random, is to choose any note that has not been used. Either choice is acceptable. The main idea is to come up with a 12 note ordering that is fairly random.
Next in line is the “Y” in my name. The note C has been already taken so I will go to the next unused note which is C#(Db). The letter “E” is an any note choice because I’ve decided that I would like to choose a note from those that are remaining. I chose D#(Eb). The “G” in Gates represents note F#. Letter “A” is also an any note choice, the note D and “T” corresponds to the note G. Letters “E” and “S” in GATES are the unused notes Ab(G#) and Bb(A#). This brings me to the only note left which is B. My ordering of these pitches, or row, then consists of notes A, E, F, C, C#, D#, F#, D, G, Ab, Bb & B.
Example 3 represents a second method that can be used to assemble a 12 pitch ordering of notes using the alphabet and again my name as a guide. Notice that the difference between examples 1 & 3 is the way that the alphabet is laid out. Follow the same procedure as in example 1. This time the “J” in Jerry now represents the pitch D#. The letter “E” represents C# and so on. In example 4, it can be immediately observed that this second method gives us a very different ordering of pitches.
Ex. 3
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>For Letters:</th>
<th>Use Note:</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>A, B, C</td>
<td>C</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>D, E, F</td>
<td>C# (Db)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>G, H</td>
<td>D</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>I, J</td>
<td>D# (Eb)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>K, L</td>
<td>E</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>M, N</td>
<td>F</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>O, P</td>
<td>F# (Gb)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Q, R</td>
<td>G</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>S, T</td>
<td>G# (Ab)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>U, V</td>
<td>A</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>W, X</td>
<td>A# (Bb)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Y, Z</td>
<td>B</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Example 4 demonstrates the completed 12-note row using the second method.
Ex. 4
```
Example 4 demonstrates the completed 12-note row using the second method.
Ex. 4
```
Now that we have some pitches to work with we can begin to compose.
**Chapter 2 – Diatonic Restriction**
It is often desirable to extract groups or collections of pitches from our 12-note row as source material. This is done because we know that these specific pitches will yield a particular sound or effect. In this chapter we will explore the concept of extracting pitches that apply to a particular key center or tonality. Typically, seven pitches are chosen.
Example 1 illustrates how the restriction process works. Any key or tonality may be used. For this example we will use the key of G Major. We begin with our 12-note grouping from the previous chapter. Once we have extracted, *in order of appearance*, the 7 diatonic notes from G Major we can then renumber the notes 1 through 7. The remaining 5 notes will be used at a later time.
Ex. 1 - Original Chosen Pitches
```
Example 4 demonstrates the completed 12-note row using the second method.
Ex. 4
```
The extracted seven notes can then be used individually as melody, harmony or both together at the same time. Examples 2 through 6 will help demonstrate this technique.
Ex. 2
```
Example 4 demonstrates the completed 12-note row using the second method.
Ex. 4
```
In example 2, a melody has been constructed using the extracted 7 notes, in order of appearance, from the G Major scale. The melody starts on note 5, the D, and continues through the group moving next to notes 6, 7, 1 and then 2 (G, B, A & E).
This first melodic phrase employs 5 notes of the diatonic group and is then varied using traditional rhythmic variations in measures 2 & 3. Finally there is a cadence point in measure 4, which uses the remaining two notes of the 7 - note group (C & F#). Notice that I did not start the melody on A, or note number 1. I could have, but while playing through the available pitches I decided to use a melodic phrase that started on the pitch D.
Example 3 adds a simple bass line harmonization using G to C three times in measures 1-3 and the notes A and D in measure 4. The arbitrary choice of these diatonic bass notes suggests a simple traditional harmonization of G Major to C Major (I to IV) in measures 1-3. This is followed by a cadence of Amin7 to D7 (IImin7 to V7) in the final measure. While this basic progression works perfectly well, inverting chord voicings (by using alternate bass notes), allows other possibilities.
Ex. 3
```
I IV I IV I IV IImin V7
```
It is always possible to harmonize a melody with whatever chords your ear thinks are acceptable but there are days that your ear, for whatever reason, isn't satisfied with these harmonic choices. Example 4 shows a method to help alleviate this aggravation.
While maintaining the same harmonic rhythm as in example 3, example 4 places notes from the restricted group (G Major) into the bass clef in order of their appearance. Which octave the notes appear in does not matter as long as they function as bass notes. In this example the bass line starts on the note G (#6) and continues though the 7 - note cycle to D. With the exception of the last measure each rhythmic value receives one note. Since all notes in the melody and bass line are diatonic to the key of G Major one can start and stop anywhere within the cycle as long as notes don't get skipped over. The next step is to determine chord qualities for the completed two - voice example.
Ex. 4
```
I IV I IV I IV IImin V7
```
```
Example 5 shows a possible diatonic harmonization of this example. Note that all of the choices are diatonic to the key of G Major. The chord qualities of some bass/melody relationships may be obvious (G, Emin7, D7). Other choices (Emin7/B, Amin7 and F#min7b5), work because of their restriction to G Major and will often surprise because of the unusual placement of the chord (Centuries of music has trained our ears to expect certain chords, or cadences, at specific points in a phrase of music. This technique ignores this expectation unless the choice is made to adhere to it).
Example 6 illustrates yet another way to think about putting chords to the original melody by literally shifting the beginning note in the bass clef to the left one spot. The bass line starts on note number 7 rather than number 6. This seemingly small shift will give even more harmonic possibilities. The harmonization sounds drastically different but is equally valid. I’ve started on B (note #7) and used A (#1), E (#2), C (#3), F# (#4), D (#5), G (#6), B (#7) again and finished on A (#1). Note the chords that the new bass line yields. Other chord options exist for these same bass notes. Through chord inversion, the first chord could be G/B, the second could be F#min7b5/A and the 4th chord Amin7/C. The chord quality is up to you as long as it is diatonic to the key of G Major.
Chapter 3 - Adding Additional Pitches to a Restricted Row
Although traditional a harmonization of the melody works fine, there is often a need to look for a more unusual or challenging harmony – if for no other reason than to discover a fresh idea. This is particularly true when one is working with complex harmonic settings such as Jazz. In the previous chapter we explored several possibilities for a completely diatonic harmonization of the melody. Now let’s take the previous techniques a step further.
Example 1 shows once again the original 12-note source, or row, that we began with. The second staff shows a new restriction, this time to the key of F Minor. The third staff shows the remaining 5 notes after the restriction to this key is made. The numbers below this staff refer to the corresponding notes’ placement relative to the original 12-note group. In an effort to keep confusion of numbers to a minimum I have placed these in parenthesis.
The first step is to write a melody using the notes, in order of appearance, that have been extracted from F Minor. Example 2 presents a possible melody and bass line. This example also shows a chord harmonization of the melody. Notice that the melody follows the order of extracted notes starting on re-numbered note 1 as does the bass line. As in the previous chapter it should be stressed that any note number can begin the melody or bass line. It is important that at this stage however that no notes are skipped. It should also be observed that the chord harmonization is also diatonic to F Minor. In measure 1, the Fmin7 chord is I, the DbMaj7 is a bVI, the Eb add 9 is a bVII and the Bbmin9 acts as IV. These chords are all found in F Minor.
As stated earlier in this chapter, there are often opportunities to look for an unusual or less obvious harmonization. Example 3 begins to show just that. The diatonic melody previously composed is retained for illustration. Instead of using diatonic notes from F Minor for the bass line, four out of a possible five remaining notes (chromatic to the key of F Minor), are used instead (Example 1, 3rd staff). In this example the bass starts on Gb, or note (7), from the original 12 note group and proceeds to note (8) pitch D, note (12) pitch B and finally to note (1) which is pitch A.
Chordal harmonization gets very interesting at this point. Any chord quality can be used to harmonize the melody and bass. The only thing to keep in mind is that the melody and bass should have some sort of harmonic relationship to the chord choice. The melody notes in the first measure plus the bass line pitch Gb allows for a Gb6 (Gb triad with a major 6th added) to be used for 4 beats. Other possibilities include, but are not limited to, Ebmin7, Ab7/Gb or Dbsus/Gb. In measure two, D in the bass coupled with notes F & C in the melody suggests a D minor chord of some sort. The choice here is Dmin7b5. The melodic note Db, which occupies the last 16th of beat 2, is a chromatic neighbor tone. Continuing on to measure 3, the choice is G7#9/B. The #9 being the Bb in the melody. This note could be ignored in the chord symbol as it occurs on the weak part of the beat. Finally, the arrival to measure 4. The choice here is Amin7b5, which takes into account the A in the bass line and the C & Eb in the melody.
Beyond making sure that the chord quality chosen has a relationship to the melody & bass (chord tone or tension tone), there are two additional thoughts to keep in mind. At first it may seem that your choices for chord qualities may not sound good. Before discarding a choice make sure that traditional voice leading of the inside voices is adhered to as strictly as possible. For example, try to get as many common tone relationships between chords to appear. If common tones don’t exist, the next best thing is stepwise motion up or down to the next chord. Example 3 illustrates this point. Notice that with the exception of the first measure, the two inside voices move from chord to chord by either half step or common tone. This movement greatly enhances the smoothness between chord qualities to the listener (and the players), even if they seem quite disjointed at first. The second point is that harmonization can, will, and probably should ignore traditional analysis from chord to chord. This is one way that a composer can create new and fresh sounds. If your ear thinks a harmonization is acceptable for a given scenario then it is probably fine. Example 4 shows how to further make the music smoother from chord to
Chapter 4 – Combining Two Restricted Rows
We will now look at how the technique of Diatonic Restriction is used in an actual song. The name of the song is *What If*, composed by myself. Example 1, on the following page, illustrates several things. First of all, it shows us two different rows being used as source material. These 12-note groups of pitches are labeled Rows 1 and 2, located on lines one and three. Secondly, we can see that each one of these 12-note rows has been restricted, in order of appearance, to two smaller 7-note rows that conform to the key of Db Major (or Bb Minor). These are located on lines two and four. Finally, the last line places both restricted groups, in order of appearance, into the key signature of Db Major. In the last line, we can also observe that each 7-note group is going to be assigned its own function. The newly restricted Row 1 will be used as a source of melody notes for a section of the song. Conversely, Row 2 will provide the foundation for harmonic motion (where the chord changes will occur) and what the bass note will be.
Note: Once divided in this way, melodies and harmonic motion can be created starting on any note of the group and proceeding, in order, to the left or right.
Looking at the melody first, let’s look at example 2 on the following page to find out how the two sources were used. In measure 1, the melody begins on the note Db, which is note number 1 and continues to Eb and then Bb to complete the first phrase. I’ve now used the first three notes from my restricted row (Row 1). If we were to stay strict to the technique, the next pitch to use would be number 4, the note Bb. This is where technique has to take a backseat to your own creativity. Jack Smalley always told me, “Always try to remember that these techniques are not intended to replace any other technique or your own sense of musicianship. You’re not trying to re-invent the wheel! These techniques are intended to provide us with notes or source material to do something with.”
I’ve always believed in short melodic phrases that can be easily manipulated, and therefore more easily understood by the listener. The second and third lines of this melody illustrate this point. In measure 5, I begin with the same fragment that I did in the previous line except that I add two additional notes from my diatonic source - note number 4, the Ab and note 5, the Gb. I now have a typical section of eight measures that is fairly typical in today’s music. I will repeat the first four measures of this section. This gets me to measure 13 where it feels like I need some sort of cadence to get me to a state of rest. Again, I’ve used the first five notes of my restricted row (Just as I did in measures 5 – 7, except that I’ve changed the rhythm in the second half of the measure.). This time however, I continue on to note 6, the note F. I’ve gotten quite a bit of mileage out of 6 notes! In fact, I’ve created one whole verse for my song. On the recording, you’ll notice that I repeat this section a second time giving me a second verse. The second verse is a little different though in that the instruments stating the melody are a different combination than the first verse. (First Verse: Soprano Saxophone, Flute and Trumpet with a Harmon mute. Second Verse: Soprano Saxophone, Flute, Flugelhorn, Trumpet and two Trombones.).
Next, let’s look at the harmony that was used. Again, refer back to example 1. This time we will use Row 2 for our bass notes and subsequent chord determinations. As you’ll notice on the recording, this song moves along at a pretty fast tempo (although it doesn’t feel like it), and therefore doesn’t need a great deal of harmonic rhythm. This is particularly true in the style I’ve chosen to write in, a Bossa Nova. Stylistically, a Bossa Nova has a very relaxed feeling attached to it. If I were to change harmony constantly, say every two beats, it would not sound very relaxed.
In the harmonization of this section of *What If*, it felt natural to use one chord every four measures until reaching measure 13, where more activity seemed to be needed. Note that in example 2 I have begun with note number 1, the Gb from the second restricted row. I’ve also made the decision that, for this section of the song at least; I will keep the melody and harmony completely diatonic. What this means is that whatever chord I choose from the key of Db, the chord choice has to have a Gb in the bass at the point of the chord’s initial sounding. As can be seen in the example, I chose a Gb69 chord. This chord represents the IV chord and is an obvious choice. Other possibilities could have been Ebmin/Gb, Ab7sus/Gb or Cmin7b5/Gb. Observe that each one of these possibilities is completely diatonic to the key of Db Major or its relative minor, Bb Minor. Also, observe that each one of these options has its own sound and most importantly has Gb in the bass.
The next note in line is number 2, the Eb. Following the same thinking as note number 1, I need a diatonic chord to Db Major that has an Eb in the bottom of it. The chord choice also needs to be able to include the melody. The obvious choice is some sort of Ebmin, a II minor chord – in this case, an Ebmin9. Other choices could be Fmin/Eb, Ab7sus/Eb or Bbmin/Eb.
Continuing the process to note number 3, the note we need to harmonize is F. The choice of Fmin11 could be considered a little curious, on paper. This is because of the “rub” or dissonance that normally is created between the Db melody note and the pitch C that is in the chord. When listening to the recording, there doesn’t seem to be a problem with this issue because the harmonic instruments such as piano and guitar are not playing “on the beat” where the Db note is being first sounded.
Finally, there is a flurry of activity in measure 13 that helps to bring this section of the song to a close. Melody note 1, the Db, is now harmonized by the chord Bbmin11. This represents note 4 (Bb), from Row 2. Note 5 from Row 2, the pitch C, is Cmin7.
This chord includes the melody notes Eb and Bb. Note 6, the pitch Ab, is an Ab69(-no3), and acts as a V chord to cadence us to a I chord – the DbMaj9 chord that represents note 7 from Row 2 (Db).
When composing a melody or chord progression using these techniques, remember that even though the numbering used for the group of notes you’re working with begins with the number 1, you can start on any note number that you wish and proceed in order from that point (forward or retrograde). This will be illustrated further in Chapter 7.
Chapter 5 - Variation of the Row Via Interpolation/Permutation
Now that we have created some short motives, melodic phrases and harmony it has probably become clear that we may need more notes for longer phrases and passages. One of George Tremblay’s great contributions to twentieth century music was the concept of permutation of the 12 given pitches in a way that hadn’t previously been tried. Permutation means to alter the order of a given set of objects in a group. In Tremblay’s case, the objects are notes that can be rearranged or reordered using a simple mathematical process.
Example 1 shows the original row plus a permutation of it. This first permutation is called Row 2. The simplest way to begin is to divide Row 1 into two, six note groups called hexachords. To get Row 2, begin with note 7 (F#, from the second hexachord) and follow it with note 1 (A, from the first hexachord). Next, place note 8 after note 1 and then note 2 after note 8. Continue with note 9 after note 2 and note 3 after note 9. By now you can see a pattern develop. Notes 10 & 4 are followed in sequence by notes 11 & 5 and 12 & 6.
Row 2 is now complete. The next step is to renumber the notes of Row 2 from 1 to 12 as in example 2. We now have a reordering of the original pitches that consists of F#, A, D, E, G, F, Ab, C, Bb, C#, B and Eb. The reason for renumbering the pitches in Row 2 is so that we can obtain additional permutations, or variations, of the original group of pitches.
Please refer to example 3. To construct Row 3, use the same process that was demonstrated previously for Row 2. Using Row 2 now, begin with note 7 (Ab), and combine
it with note 1 which is F#. Next, place note 8 after note 1 and then note 2 after note 8. Continue with note 9 after note 2 and note 3 after note 9. Notes 10 & 4 are followed in sequence by notes 11 & 5 and 12 & 6. Row 3 is now complete.
After completion of Row 2, the next step is to renumber the notes of Row 3 from 1 to 12 as in example 4. Looking at example 3, we now have this group of pitches: Ab, F#, C, A, Bb, D, C#, E, B, G, Eb & F.
Note on the next 2 pages (example 5), that continuing the process of permutation leads us through a total of twelve rows. Together, these groups of rows are called Set I. Observe that Row 7, the 6th permutation, is a retrograde, or reverse order, of the original row. Row 8 is a retrograde of Row 2; Row 9 is a retrograde of Row 3 and so on. If this isn’t true about your own set, you will have to check your rows from the first permutation until the correct notes are found. If we were to construct a thirteenth Row (a twelfth permutation), this row appears as the original row in its original form.
Ex. 5
Set 1
Row 1 - Original Row
Row 2 - 1st Permutation
Row 3 - 2nd Permutation
Row 4 - 3rd Permutation
Row 5 - 4th Permutation
Row 6 - 5th Permutation
Row 7 - 6th Permutation - Retrograde of Row 1
There are a total of 24 possible sets of 12 rows. To construct Set II, assemble the initial row by using the first pitch from each group of 12 notes (from Set I). Start with A, the first note from Row 1, then F#, the first note from Row 2. The next note is Ab/G#, which is the first note from Row 3. Continue through all twelve rows (4 – 12) until the group is complete. Using example 5 we arrive at example 6 – A, F#, Ab, C#, G, Bb, B, Eb, F, D, C & E. This is Row 1 of Set II. The technique of completing Set II is the same as Set I.
dering of the notes of course will be different. This translates into more variations of the original row. I’ve all twenty-four sets from the original row to guide you. Note that in Sets 2 through 24, there appears to be only the first six rows of each set. If we remember that Rows 7 through 12 are merely retrogrades of the first six, it is not necessary to include them. We can read rows 1 though 6 backward to achieve the same goal. Going on to a theoretical Row 1 of a twenty-fifth set will yield the original row. This tells us that we have successfully reached the end of this mathematical process.
After the completion of twenty-four sets it should be apparent that there is an incredible amount of resource material to explore and choose from – all variations from the original 12-note group of pitches. In Chapter 2 we explored the use of a single row to compose a melody and possible harmonization techniques for it. Chapter 6 will demonstrate how multiple rows; all confined to the same tonal area (diatonically restricted) can be used in a chorale setting.
All Twelve: Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition
Set 3
Row 1
Row 2
Row 3
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
405
All Twelve: Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition
Set 5
Row 1
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 2
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 3
7 1 8 2 9 3 10 4 11 5 12 6
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Set 6
Row 1
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 2
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 3
7 1 8 2 9 3 10 4 11 5 12 6
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Set 7
Row 1
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 2
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 3
7 1 8 2 9 3 10 4 11 5 12 6
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Set 8
Row 1
Row 2
Row 3
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
Set 9
Row 1
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 2
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 3
7 1 8 2 9 3 10 4 11 5 12 6
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
Set 12
Row 1
Row 2
Row 3
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
Set 13
Row 1
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 2
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 3
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
All Twelve: Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition
Set 15
Row 1
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 2
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 3
7 1 8 2 9 3 10 4 11 5 12 6
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
Revista do Laboratório de Dramaturgia - LADI - UnB - V. 2, Ano 1
All Twelve: Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition
Set 17
Row 1
Row 2
Row 3
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
Jerry Gates
Set 18
Row 1
Row 2
Row 3
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Set 19
Row 1
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 2
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 3
7 1 8 2 9 3 10 4 11 5 12 6
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
### Set 21
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Row 1</th>
<th>Row 7</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td>12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>11</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Row 2</th>
<th>Row 8</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td>12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>11</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Row 3</th>
<th>Row 9</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td>12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>11</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Row 4</th>
<th>Row 10</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td>12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>11</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Row 5</th>
<th>Row 11</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>11</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Row 6</th>
<th>Row 12</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>5</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>6</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>7</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>8</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>9</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>10</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>11</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>12</td>
<td></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Set 22
Row 1
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 2
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Row 3
7 1 8 2 9 3 10 4 11 5 12 6
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
All Twelve: Dodecaphonic Sources for Contemporary Composition
Set 23
Row 1
Row 2
Row 3
Row 4
Row 5
Row 6
Row 7
Row 8
Row 9
Row 10
Row 11
Row 12
Chapter 6 – Chorale Composition With Multiple Related Rows
As you remember, Chapter 3 illustrates a technique that restricts a given row, or 12 pitches, to a specific group of diatonic pitches. Typically, but not always, this group has 7 pitches. Additionally, Chapter 5 explored the concept of deriving additional rows from a single 12 – note source. Let’s now combine these two concepts to further explore the possibilities of diatonic usage.
On the following page, example 1 shows six rows that comprise a set (Chapter 5 demonstrated that twelve rows complete a Set). However, remember that rows seven through twelve represent retrograde versions of the first six. Therefore, rows seven through twelve need not be included as we can see them by reciting the notes retrograde, or backward). These notes represent Set 8 from the original row that was derived from my name in Chapter 1.
Ex. 1
The decision is made that the composition I wish to work on will be in Eb Major (or C Minor). I have also chosen the first five rows from this set to be the foundation of my source material. Example 2 shows the extracted notes from Eb Major, in the order that they appear, from each row. Further, this example indicates renumbered pitches to make it easier to keep track of them (numbers below each staff). The key of Eb Major/C Minor has 7 pitches. The other five will be put aside for possible use at a later time.
The next two areas to think about are harmonic motion (where each harmony/chord will change) and secondly, which voice each newly restricted row will occupy. For the latter, we can think in traditional terms such as Soprano, Alto, Tenor and Bass if we are to use four of the five restricted rows. Example 3 shows one possible layout and harmonization that is diatonic to Eb Major.
This example sets a harmonic motion of two beats per chord through the first three measures. The fourth measure contains the last chord. The choice as to which row goes to which voice can be a complex matter. To make the decision easier, two thoughts should be kept in mind. First, the ear tends to hear notes on top and on the bottom (rows 1 & 2 - Soprano and Bass) quite easily while notes that are given to the inside voices (rows 3 & 4 – Alto and Tenor) aren’t as obvious to the ear. I like the directional quality of the first three notes in row 2 as well as the cadence quality of the pitches C going to F in the third and fourth measures. These points helped me to decide that row 2 would go to the bottom voice. As for the top voice, again I favored the directional quality of the first four notes of row 1.
Following these notes are successive downward leaps of a tritone interval and a minor third interval in measure three. This group of notes combined with the very last leap of a minor seventh going up caught my attention.
The second thought to keep in mind when trying to decide which row should go to which voice is vertical spacing. Note that all inside voices (the distance between rows 1 and 3 or rows 3 and 4) are not more than an octave away from each other. This will help the lines blend together to sound like a unit. With some instruments such as trumpets or saxophones, the distance should be even closer – no more than a Major 6th. Vertical distance between the bottom two voices can be a Major 10th or more.
When laying out this basic framework, as in example 3, you may look at the vertical structures and find incomplete chords. In this case, the Gmin7 in measure 1 has no 5th; the Fmin11 in measure 2 has no 3rd and so forth. At this point in the process of composition, it is perfectly fine. The missing notes can be added later as developments to the
internal melodies. If the style you choose to compose in permits, you can leave the pitches out completely to be less obvious of your harmonic intentions and very possibly more interesting.
The next step in this technique is to look at our four-part framework and determine where there are doubled pitches. In a linear setting, where the goal is for each voice to have as much importance as the next, a doubled pitch will take away from this goal. Observe in measure 1 of example 3 that there are two Bb pitches on beat 3. In measure 2, also on beat 3, there appear to be two D pitches. On beat one of measure 3 the note Eb is doubled between rows 2 and 4. These doubled notes, and how they are handled, can be the basis of making this example sound a little more musical.
Referring to example 4 now, note how the Bb that was originally attacked on beat 3 of measure 1 does not get attacked now until the last eighth note of beat 4. This is called a delayed attack, meaning that the point of attack is now at a point later than either expected or originally placed. The pitch F, that originally lasted two beats in that same measure now has duration of three and a half beats. We did not have to lengthen the pitch F. It does however add an overall smoothness to the line that we are adjusting. In measure 2, the note D is attacked on beat 3 and quickly moves to the Eb that originally was set to sound on beat one of measure 3. This is called Melodic Anticipation and helps to maintain the linear independence of that line by moving to a new note. Melodic anticipation occurs when a pitch is sounded before the expectation of it. In this case, the original expectation of the note sounding is on beat 1 of measure 3. Many contemporary styles such as Jazz and Funk make great use out of Melodic Anticipation and Delayed Attacks. In fact, so much so, that if these styles did not rely heavily on these two concepts, the styles would not sound correct.
Example 5 continues this line of thinking by attacking the Bb in the top voice a beat early and delaying the start of the pitch G by a beat in the bottom voice, both in measure 1. A melodic anticipation also occurs in the second voice on beat 2 of measure 2 (the pitch Ab). In measure 3, the note F is not only anticipated by a quarter note, it is also broken up into two rhythms and displaced upward by an octave on beat 4.
In chorale style writing, a nice by-product of Melodic Anticipation and Delayed Attack is the sense of forward movement by the listener because something is constantly moving, therefore keeping the listener interested. If we kept our composition at the level that it was at example 3, all half notes except measure 4, the listener would be bored quickly. An examination of example 5 will bear out the difference. Because of these alterations there is now at least one voice moving on some part of all four beats until measure 4, the end of the composition. One can easily see and hear the difference between the two examples.
Depending on our intention, the composition could be complete at example 5 or we could continue with further internal voice movement. Another way to proceed would be to add an additional voice. Example 6 shows the newly added voice, using row 5 as its source. Starting from note 1, I’ve composed a short melodic phrase that is two measures in length. Measures 3 and 4 are similar except that the pitches have been displaced an octave from note 2 on. Also, the rhythm is varied in the last measure compared to measure 2. Both techniques, Octave Pitch Displacement and Rhythmic Variation, are standard composition tools that should not be overlooked as to their importance.
Chapter 7 – Harmonization Via the Row
It is quite common for an arranger to take a song, say a Jazz standard, and change the harmony to better suit a particular style that the song is to be re-arranged in. This is called reharmonization. What the arranger intends to do is retain the original melody (so that the song is still recognizable), but add to or completely replace the existing harmony. There are many techniques that one can use to reharmonize a song. These range from simple replacement chords to very complex substitution patterns. The technique that will be discussed here involves the use of the complete 12-pitch row that we began the book with. The beauty of this particular reharmonization technique is that it’s construction is fairly simple yet yields very complex sounds. To illustrate this technique I have chosen the Jazz Standard Stella by Starlight, by Victor Young.
Example 1 shows the original melody and chords to this song.
The next step is to rewrite (if deemed necessary), the original melody to fit the particular style that has been chosen to work in. In this case, the melody in example 2 has been slightly rhythmically rewritten to fit a Jazz Ballad style with the tempo being about 75 beats to the minute. The next step is to determine what the harmonic motion is going to be. How often do we want the harmony to change? Do we want the harmony to change every measure, every 2 beats, or possibly every beat in some musical phrases? Once deciding this we begin, in order, to place a note in the bass voice at every point that we want a chord change to occur. For easy reference to the original 12-note source I have included it with example 2. Notice that I did not start this procedure with note number 1.
Again, referring to example 2, the harmonic motion that I’ve chosen for the first measure is 2 beats per chord. Observe in this example that the first note chosen is Eb, the 6th note from the 12-note source. This pitch is followed by Gb, note number 7, and then D, which is note number 8. The two notes that I’ve decided that I really want to use for the foundation of this harmonic setting are Eb and D. One of the easiest ways to get past a note you might not want to use (without omitting it altogether) is to place it on the weakest part of the beat – in this case, the last 16th note. In this way there is very little emphasis placed on that note and therefore will not be noticed as easily by the listener.
Referring to the example, it can be seen that the **Gb** is placed on the last 16th of beat number 2 of the first measure - a very weak part of the beat. I've decided that the second measure will have harmonic changes on beats one, two and three. Referring to example 2 again, the bass line starts with note number 9, which is **G**, and continues through **Ab** and **Bb** - the 10th and 11th notes of the original group. This process continues until completion of the section that is to be reharmonized - in this case the original harmony is to be used at measure nine.
It can be observed that in measure three we've arrived at the 12th or final note of the original group, the pitch **B**. There are a few options as to where we can get additional notes to continue the bass line. The bass line can:
- Continue with a completely new or derivative row (permutation),
- Continue in Retrograde form (reverse),
- Continue in Retrograde Inversion form (reversed and inverted),
- Continue in a Transposed form, or as has been done in example 2,
- Continue around to the beginning of the original row (note number 1), and cycle through the remaining 12 pitches.
From this point, follow the remaining notes in the row and observe that they have been placed in the bass line where the harmony is to change. In this example the last note being used for reharmonization is number 12, the **B** natural. The fact that I've ended this example on the last note of the row is purely coincidence. This wouldn't necessarily happen unless I designed it to be that way for a musical reason. As stated earlier, the chords go back to the original harmonization in measure 9, a **Bb** note in the bass, which corresponds to a BbMaj7 chord.
In example 3, one possible harmonization is shown using standard chord symbols. There are two important concepts to keep in mind when deciding on the harmonization to be used. The first is to make sure that the given melody and bass line has something to do with each other harmonically. For example, if on beat one of the first measure an FMaj7 chord were chosen, there would be an A in that chord (this would match the melody note), but not an Eb. This harmonic choice wouldn’t sound correct. The second concept to remember is that the voice leading between chords needs to be as smooth as possible. Smooth voice leading can be achieved by using step-wise movement between chords, and retaining as many common tones as possible. Frequently, these two concepts end up determining the actual chord quality. On beat one of measure 7 it is entirely possible to have a Gb7, a dominant chord.
Example 4 illustrates a possible voicing of the chosen harmony from example 3. If Gb7 were chosen in measure 7 it would have required the 4th voice from the top to move from a G in measure 6 to an Fb on beat one of measure 7 (a minor third interval down). The next note would be an F on beat three of measure 7 (the 7th of the Gmin9), and then back to G again in measure 8. It is much smoother to have the F common tone between GbMaj9 and Gmin9/D. Hence, the choice of GbMaj9.
On the next page, example 5 gives a “score view” of how the inside voices could be expanded upon for further development. Note the increase in melodic and rhythmic activity. Selection 15, on the CD, demonstrates the comparison to Selection 14. Example 5 could be performed in a chamber group setting as well. Each line would be assigned to one or more instruments.
Chapter 8 – Melodic Shape
As a composer, I’ve become a firm believer in the value of spending time thinking about what I want to musically say before I try to say it (write the pitches). This can save a great deal of time during the writing process by keeping you focused on your main point.
If your client requests you to write a theme that suggests adventure, where would you start? What kind of a melody could represent adventure? What kind of a melody wouldn’t represent adventure? There are conceptual ideas we can explore to help us narrow down our choices – that of melodic shape. In other words, if we figure out what type of melodic shape sounds adventurous, from a conceptual point of view, then it will be much easier to write the actual notes that fit that idea. The pitches themselves won’t matter, as the shape of the line will determine whether we are suggesting adventure or not. There are three fundamental shapes that all melodies contain some part of.
1. Line Shape:
The main characteristics of this shape are repeated notes or notes held for a long period of time, as in a pedal point high above or below the staff. An ostinato also falls into this shape classification. As the group of notes repeats itself over and over, a line shape is formed.
Example 1 illustrates a line shape. Note that there are many repeated notes, particularly at the beginning of each measure. When playing or singing this example, does it seem like the melody is a complete thought, or do you want something else to happen?
Example 2 is what is often called a “wire.” I’m sure you’ve heard this technique used in many films. As in example 1, is this a complete idea? Are we satisfied, or do we want something else to musically happen?
Example 2
In example 3, I have composed a simple two-measure phrase that repeats over and over. If this continues over a period of time, will it be enough of a statement for us, or do we want something else to musically happen as well?
Example 3
These three examples are all line shapes. After careful listening, we can come to the following emotional response (or dramatic) responses:
- Line shapes aren’t complete thoughts in themselves. Rather, they “set up” action or musical movement to come.
- Line shapes are great for introductions to a main idea – they are not the main idea themselves.
- Over a period of time, line shapes, as in an ostinato, will fade into the background.
as the repetitiveness will let the brain register that idea, and then focus on other melodic ideas as they are introduced.
One other thought about line shapes:
If long tones are added to syncopation (very rhythmic music), the long tones will take the edge off the syncopation making it less forceful. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, just another textural choice. There are many examples of this in funk music where the bass, drums, percussion and horn lines can be very rhythmic, but there is also a keyboard playing long tones, called “pads” (often string or brass sounds) that in a very real sense, “glue the sound together.” Again, the long tones (pads) take the edge off of the overall forcefulness of the rhythm.
There are also examples off this in orchestral literature. One that comes to mind right away is the introduction to the Ralph Vaughan Williams piece entitled, “The Lark Ascending.” In the introduction to this composition, a solo violin plays a fairly rhythmic cadenza. While this is occurring the rest of the string section is playing long tones (literally tied whole notes) using an Emin(add9) chord for what seems like minutes. The held notes in the strings adds glue, harmonic support to the cadenza, an also takes the edge off of the cadenza. Also interesting in this piece is that at about the halfway point of the introduction, the held notes go away completely so that just the violin soloist is playing the cadenza – no other instruments are sounding. When this happens, the focus is now solely on the violinist, but also some of the energy (or edge) comes back to the overall sound.
Example 4 starts with a syncopated drum and percussion groove to my song, “Toasted Hop.” Note how much energy is present. If this groove were to continue as an ostinato, our ears (brain) would want to hear something else happen. At measure 5, something else does happen. The guitar enters with “long tones” – line shapes, if you will. The guitar part does harmony now, something that wasn’t there previously, but it also helps to take a little edge off the syncopation and glue thee music together.
Listen: Example 4 - Toasted Hop Intro
Example 5 is an illustration of how I used a wire in the strings, and a solo trombone playing a melody against it. Its use is as an introduction to an arrangement I wrote to Jobim’s “A Felicidade.” Note how the wire, or pedal point, in the strings presents the emotional need to hear more as it doesn’t seem to go anywhere. On cue, the solo trombone answers that request while focusing the attention on the soloist. Once the trombone enters, the wire now serves the purpose of holding the music in one place until it, and the rest of the strings and woodwinds move.
Listen: Example 5 - “a Felicidade” Intro
2. Circle Shape:
Imagine the shape of a circle. Note the smooth edges. To create a smooth sounding melody we need to use a minimum of leaps. The majority of intervals used in a circle shape are half and whole steps. It is possible to mix in an interval larger than a half or whole step to this type of melodic idea, particularly at the end of the phrase, but the overriding idea must be small intervals. This next example illustrates a circle shape.
Example 6 is made up primarily of half and whole step intervals. The only exception is at the very end of the phrase. Dramatically speaking (emotionally), this type of shape “tells the story,” which is why a circle shape is used in so many verses.
The application of this shape is all around us. It is easy to sing due to the stepwise motion. Think of a popular song, or a church hymnal. The verses usually have a preponderance of stepwise motion - again, to make it easier for people to sing. Here are a few great songs that have a Circle shape for a verse (or sometimes a chorus/bridge) section of the song:
Cole Porter’s “Night and Day” (“A” section)
Gustav Holst “Venus,” from The Planets
Warren/Gordon “There Will Never Be Another You”
Christmas Carols such as “Deck The Halls” or “The Little Drummer Boy”
Kenny Edmonds “Breathe Again” (“B” section)
Wayne Shorter “Footprints”
Antonio Carlos Jobim “How Insensitive”
Rogers/Hart “My Funny Valentine” (“A” section)
3. Square Shape:
As opposed to line shapes (repetitive nature or long tones) or circle shapes (smooth, stepwise motion), square shapes have the element that is, so far, missing – intervallic leaps. The larger the leap, the seemingly more dramatic the melodic line. Dramatically speaking, square shapes seem to suggest adventure, despair, happiness, loneliness, and a host of other extreme feelings and emotions. Composers that write for dramatic purposes (film composers, for example), sometimes think about this type of melodic shape before the actual pitches are secure, or even known.
Example 7 shows the verse of a song of mine called, “Toasted Hop.” The top note on each stem is the melody, with a harmony part a 4th below. If you look at just the top notes, you’ll notice that the intervals between each are not repetitive, nor are they overall stepwise in nature. The first interval is a minor 3rd (D up to F), followed by a 4th (F down to C), up a whole step (Bb up to C), followed by a minor third down (C to A), and a major third down (A to F). Finally, a minor third interval down (F to D), and a perfect 4th up (D to G). This is NOT a particularly smooth melody, nor was it intended to be!
While listening to this example note how "jagged" the melody sounds compared to previous examples of the other two shapes.
For a variation of this concept, let’s look at example 8.
This is the “B” section to “Toasted Hop.” Starting with the pick up to letter B, the melody is a little smoother (circle) due to the stepwise motion that is present. This was a conscious decision while writing. That is, to provide a contrast to the first melody. However, there are still a few leaps to keep things interesting!
The three fundamental melodic shapes presented here are not often seen as “note for note” one shape or another. Often melodic lines are a combination of shapes. What one looks for however is a line that suggests one shape over another. If a melody has a great deal of step wise motion, but a leap here and there, then it will still be heard as a circle shape. This is particularly true if the leaping intervals are not placed near the beginning of the phrase where the ear first identifies it. Like wise as in example 1 at the top, a series
of repeated notes will be heard as a line shape, even when periodic intervals are present, because the leaping intervals are at the end of the phrase.
**Listen to example 7/8**
For further research into melodies that are a Line shape, listen to:
- Leonard Bernstein’s - “Maria,” From West Side Story
- John Williams – “Star Wars,” “Indiana Jones,” “Jaws” and many others (main titles)
- David Shire – “The Taking of Pelham 1,2,3” (Main Title)
- Aaron Copland – “Appalachian Spring”
- Hammerstein/Kern – “All The Things You Are” (and many others)
- Horace Silver – “Nica's Dream”
- Johnny Mercer – “Autumn Leaves”
**Summary**
The concepts I’ve presented are a mere fraction of the music composition techniques that have been explored in the last 75 – 100 years. These explorations continue today. In teaching these concepts and techniques at the college level, my students frequently discover additional variations and new approaches to apply to the same twelve pitches – you can too.
It is hoped that the techniques discussed in *All Twelve* will lead you to many great, unexpected and surprising results. Composition is supposed to be enjoyable, so have fun!
For information regarding my music, hiring, online learning, private studies or blogs, please visit my websites:
- [www.jerrygatesmusic.com](http://www.jerrygatesmusic.com)
- [www.myspace.com/compjgates](http://www.myspace.com/compjgates)
- [http://www.reverbnation.com/jerrygates](http://www.reverbnation.com/jerrygates)
- [http://jerrygates.berkleemusicblogs.com/](http://jerrygates.berkleemusicblogs.com/)
**Biography**
Educator, composer, arranger, and bassist, Jerry Gates has been a music industry professional for over 30 years. His TV and radio credits include Bank of America, AT&T, Log Cabin Syrup, Scope Mouthwash, Marlboro cigarettes and music preparation for “The Dennis Miller Show”, Bill Holman, film composers Jack Smalley and Richard Band. As professor at Berklee College of Music in Boston, MA, Jerry teaches Contemporary Arranging and production courses at all levels, Directed Study in Arranging, Contemporary 12 - Tone Composition and Music Preparation courses. Jerry maintains an online presence through his authoring of courses and teaching in Berklee’s online school, BerkleeMusic.com. He also admits private online students that seek further studies in composition and orchestration through his website, www.jerrygatesmusic.com.
Jerry’s most recently completed projects include music for videos, Nestle/Wonka.com, directing and writing music for college concerts featuring artists such as drummer Steve Smith and Los Angeles studio bassist Neil Stubenhaus. He has also directed annual
student concerts at the Berklee Performance Center. Mr. Gates has also completed a commissioned composition titled “The Long Shadow of Lincoln” for the Shattuck St. Mary’s School in Faribault, Minnesota. This work engaged a 50 person choir, 37 piece orchestra and borrows the text from Carl Sandburg’s famous poem, “The Long Shadow of Lincoln: A Litany” as lyric. Jerry has recorded a collection of contemporary instrumental compositions featuring noted jazz performers John Peña, Peter Gordon and Liz Kinnon.
As an arranger and performer, Jerry’s credits also include Los Angeles/Nashville session vocalist Cindy Fee, The Lettermen, The United States Air Force Worldwide Talent Contest, The Burbank Civic Light Opera, EMI International Latin recording artists Alvarro Torres and Franco.
Jerry continues to teach, perform and study the finer points of Film and Television music with noted film and television composer Jack Smalley. |
The BEDA Professional Design Practice Dossier
Introduction
This document – the BEDA Professional Design Practice Dossier (BEDA PD²) is an endeavour at drawing the most precise picture of current issues relating to professional design practice in Europe and globally, as a guide for design practitioners, people engaged in design promotion and support, and for those who influence the political framework in which design plays an increasingly pivotal role.
The methodology behind BEDA PD² is non-scientific, but is supported to a large extent by the most recent studies, articles and reports available through desk search and access to various design research networks and other web sources. The selection has been made to provide the most accurate yet balanced point of view relating to specific areas of interest, which are dealt with in each of the seven chapters of the dossier. These are
- Design Practice – at large: General issues related to design practice development
- Design policy and promotion
- New materials and technologies
- Design processes and methodologies
- Service design
- Socially responsible and sustainable design
- Design management
The fact that design education and research as an area in itself has been left out is quite deliberate - in part because the primary focus of this document is design practice and related issues, and in part because the inclusion of design research and education would require a more prudent scientific approach, and resources beyond those of BEDA. However, we thank the design research and education community for their contributions to this dossier and do not in any way whatsoever underestimate the contributions they make to design practice.
The overall editorial responsibility for BEDA PD² lies with the Professional Working Group within the BEDA board, while the actual screening and collection of material, as well as the writing of the topical articles making up the dossier itself, has been commissioned to the design management professional Steinar Valade-Amland of THREE POINT ZERO. This is based on his lengthy engagement in BEDA and the design practitioner communities throughout Europe, as well as on his current work, which, amongst other things, involves developing new methodologies for uptake of design practice and design management in the public sector.
Kitty de Jong
Michał Stefanowski
BEDA Professional Working Group
Isabel Roig
BEDA President 2013-2015
Design practice – at large
The name of the game is rapidly changing
Over the last decade, design practice has changed quite dramatically. For some designers, things look pretty much the same as ever – they are rooted in their professional pursuits, offering well-known services to established markets. Others face changes on a daily basis – new demands for services previously not labelled design, from client groups who have never before demanded design services at all, and in fierce competition with consultants and practitioners with vastly different backgrounds than schools of architecture, art or design.
This new situation calls for a new conversation within the design community – between design practitioners, and between them and the many other stakeholders making up the design value chain.
From focus on design as a craft to design thinking
One of the noticeable discussions during the past few years derives from the emergence of “design thinking” – a concept of which several design thinkers claim to be the original source. Many ascribe the concept – or at least the pervasiveness of it – to IDEO, as does its own CEO, Tim Brown:
“Design thinking is a human-centered approach to innovation that draws from the designer’s toolkit to integrate the needs of people, the possibilities of technology, and the requirements for business success.”
Bill Moggridge – one of IDEO’s co-founders - also had his say on its meaning, as seen in this statement this from 2010:
“The "Design Thinking" label is not a myth. It is a description of the application of well-tried design process to new challenges and opportunities, used by people from both design and non-design backgrounds. I welcome the recognition of the term and hope that its use continues to expand and be more universally understood, so that eventually every leader knows how to use design and design thinking for innovation and better results.”
Regardless of who came up with the idea first, the concept has captured a wide audience and created a shift in how design is being discussed, both in the design community and among policy makers. The most common understanding of design thinking is “a human-centered, creative, iterative, and practical approach to finding the best ideas and ultimate solutions” – or in other words, an adoption of the way designers always went about addressing whatever challenge they were facing, now made accessible to managers with business training or other professional backgrounds.
The concept has now reigned for around five years and is slowly finding its place on the shelf together with other concepts which have proved their relevance, and have slowly faded to became natural parts of day-to-day lingo for people working in the creative industries. And yet, new insights and angles appear. Lucy Kimbell is an Oxford scholar who points at the weakness of design thinking as a concept as it detaches the thinking from the doing and from design’s embedded aesthetics. Besides, even though it appears scientific in its own peculiar way, design thinking as a concept is quite poorly documented in terms of actual research. What is even more interesting than her reservations, though, is her thoughts on how design thinking and design practice could actually co-exist as mutually beneficial approaches.
---
Cameron Tonkinwise from Parsons New School of Design discusses the abstraction of the design process into just another MBA tool in his article – it is more philosophical and theory-focused than Kimbell’s, but still a good read.³
From craft to process, methodology and tools for change
The focus on design thinking did not appear out of the dark. Design practice has gradually changed over a long period of time – since it found its own space as an independent professional identity. As such, design practice reflects developments in society, in business and in the search for innovation. Some of these changes have grown out of the design profession itself, others have been forced upon it by changes in the marketplace, and yet other changes stem from academic environments – increasingly so, as design has gained academic status in most European countries as an area worthy of educational pursuit. Every so often, design researchers meet to keep each other abreast of what’s cooking in the design research community, as well as in the field they study - design practice. One of the most recent gatherings of design researchers took place in Gothenburg in Sweden in April 2013 under the alluring title ‘Crafting the Future’.⁴
One of the interesting papers presented was called, “‘Trust me, I am a designer’, why is there a lack of trust in design expertise?”⁵ It discusses the interesting dilemma whereby designers are no longer necessarily experts in giving shape and form to products or graphics or spaces, but as a result of the changing role of design and designers, are often facilitators of creative processes and creative generalists, and that this change has caused confusion in the marketplace and among SMEs (small and medium sized enterprises) in particular. This could possibly be a welcome reminder that the community of design practitioners themselves need to work with their identity as a group and with how their expertise and its uniqueness is being communicated.
At large, the role of being a design professional has not only changed, but has also increased the demands on and expectations towards what a design service encompasses. A range of new terminologies have entered the design domain; a language originating in business school environments such as Harvard and Stanford, including words like strategy, innovation, business case, stakeholder engagement and stage gates, and in the human sciences like anthropology and ethnography, words like personas and participatory studies. The most common “buzzwords” were collated and explained by Bob Jacobson in a so-called “chapbook” for the Danish consultancy GEMBA, as part of a government funded innovation programme back in 2010. It is still a very useful guide to the most common newcomers in the design and innovation lingo.⁶
Later on in this document, some of the major phenomena changing the landscape of design practice will be addressed, such as the emergence of service design and design methodologies like co-creation, and focus on social responsibility and sustainability.
http://www.tripopus.se/web/presentation/web.aspx?evid=qTCRaT4TJ7OOGtClyjKRA==&ecid=vajn7H5hFUL31Hr+O9enuv==&ln=eng&view=category&template=desktop
http://www.gemba.dk/media/62115/chapbook2009.05.pdf
Design policy and promotion
The correlation between developments in design policy, promotion and practice
The core of the design community is naturally made up of design practitioners – whether independent or in partnerships, organized in networks or formalized corporate structures. However, design and the design community wouldn’t have enjoyed the attention and interest it currently does if it weren’t for some strong and helpful forces in industry, in design education and research, and – not least – in design support, promotion and policy. BEDA and some of its loyal members have been among the most persistent actors on this playing field, elevating design to a hitherto unprecedented level on the European agenda, in parallel with its steadily increasing importance on national and regional levels throughout Europe.
Design policy initiatives have often underestimated the role and diversity of design practice as such, and have often lagged behind in recognizing the changes already discussed in the previous chapter. Some internationally renowned players, such as IDEO and d-school, the initiative it created in collaboration with the founder of one of the largest ITC companies in the world, SAS Institute⁷ as well as a few other larger design firms throughout the world, have served as references for design policy makers; the role of the vast majority of individual and small scale design practitioners around the world as the actual drivers of change and progress has, however, been gravely underestimated. Some of the blame for this rests with the community of design practitioners themselves, while the major reason for the situation has been the challenge of bridging the language and perceptions of design as an art and craft based discipline with the prevailing political agendas of economic growth and social development. That bridge now seems to have been built, and it has – however frail it might appear – already proven its own right as a carrier of the necessary understanding on both sides of how design can play a vital role in supporting the same agendas. One of the most rewarding outcomes of this journey is the report presented by the European Design Leadership Board, which was established in 2011 by the European Commission. Their report, Design for Growth and Prosperity⁸ recognizes not only the role, but also the need to support and develop the design community at large and design practice in particular.
Another project – also funded by the EU – has proven to be a very effective way of collating, discussing and sharing experiences related to design and innovation policies across the member states of the European Region.⁹ Through the numerous publications issued by SEE from its start in 2006 through to today, it is actually possible to establish a coherent picture of the developments within the sector during the period in which design eventually had its breakthrough as an important pillar in building and enhancing both enterprises, public services and innovation capacity across sectors and across Europe.
Design support and promotion have been the two foremost tools for governments when deciding to embark on a journey toward better utilization of the design competences in the respective country or region. Some countries have established national design centres or design councils, such as the Design Council in the UK, Norwegian Design Council, Danish Design Centre and Slovak Design Centre. Some are funded or co-funded by ministries of culture, others by ministries of trade and industry, and yet others by a combination of the two and/or other government bodies. In some countries, the approach is regional rather than national, such as in Germany, France and Spain – consistent with other structures in the same countries. Regardless of roots and sources of funding, they have all chosen a strategy which
---
⁷ http://dschool.stanford.edu/
⁹ http://www.seeplatform.eu/publications
balances two out of three elements in design policies – promotion and support, the third being education. According to Gisela Raulik-Murphy and Gavin Cawood, the two elements are different by nature; design promotion schemes are usually targeted at the wider public with the objective of raising awareness of the benefits of design through many different ways (such as exhibitions, awards, conferences, seminars and publications), while design support programmes include schemes implemented to assist businesses in using design in order to improve their businesses.
What is quite interesting, though, is the marginal focus on design practice in such public schemes. One might often sense that the design community itself has left the agenda to well-meaning and by all means dedicated advocates of design from industry, from governmental organizations and from the business community as such – though without really claiming their own sovereign space around the table, which is also evident in the four examples shown in Raulik-Murphy and Cawood’s report, pp. 8 – 10, where the representative bodies for design practitioners are all detached from the structures actually defining the respective countries’ initiatives to strengthen design. This might be one of the most imminent challenges for the design professional community in the years to come and as a response to design’s changing role in various policy areas; to re-capture the design domain from – and to enter into a more meaningful and more levelled dialogue with - all the other players on the design policy playing field.
Where does design policy, support and promotion seem to head?
Quite significant changes of direction have been seen during the past two years, such as in the UK (Design Council) focusing on corporate partnership programmes, Sweden (SVID) focusing on health services design, Denmark (Danish Design Centre) focusing on new materials, new technologies and big data. Elsewhere, changes are seen towards more focused strategies and more focus on ROI – return on investment. There seems to be a general trend in Europe away from investing in the promotion of the idea of design as a lever for competitiveness and innovation – at large – towards a much closer collaboration with specific industries or sectors, towards working with organisations which have already embraced design and towards partnerships based on co-funding by the recipient partner. Even though it has not been possible to substantiate this by reliable source statistics, one might suspect that the number of design exhibitions targeting a wider audience, design award schemes and design competitions is decreasing year by year.
Moreover, on a policy level, design is no longer – at least less often than before – an issue dealt with in isolation. The trend seems to be an integration of design into either innovation policies or policies for the cultural and creative industries (CCIs). On a European level design has been adopted quite recently, compared to many member states, and yet it plays a marginal role outside of the two most significant platforms it inhabits. The 1st Action Plan of the European Design Innovation Initiative11, under which six major development projects with quite massive participation from BEDA members have been funded, supports the innovation agenda, while ECIA – European Creative Industries Alliance12, which is also funded by DG Enterprise - supports designs role as part of the CCI agenda
As such, the changes listed above seem like natural consequences of the changing role of design practice and the parallel changes in the marketplace’s perception of what design is and where it could potentially play a role. Hence, the more traditional “core attributes” of design as the craft of embodying arts into replicable and industrially manufactured products, into tools of communication and into physical spaces enjoy less and less attention both in regional, national
11 http://ec.europa.eu/enterprise/newsroom/cf/itemdetail.cfm?item_id=5292
12 http://creativebusiness.org/content/european-creative-industries-a
and supra-national design strategies and in the design policies articulated by the design community – or communities – themselves. Actually, it seemed at one point, that even talking about aesthetics, the crafts or the personal expression that design also carries in it made design politicians frown, as if it were a historical and hopelessly old fashioned way of discussing design. We have seen, though, that the various platforms on which the future of design is discussed now seem to allow for advocacy of the need to balance the traditional hallmarks of design and designers with the needs of the future and the new contexts of which design is slowly becoming an integral element.\(^{13}\)
For a valuable overview of recent developments, a quite recent publication issued by the DeEP consortium – one of the previously mentioned projects co-financed by the the 1st Action Plan of the European Design Innovation Initiative – gives a quite accessible introduction to some of the issues putting their marks on the current design and innovation policy discourse.\(^{14}\)
Some of the more specific factors influencing design practice are dealt with in the next five chapters.
New materials and technologies
**As design moves into new domains, new demands for materials, material properties and material processing technologies are needed**
Most of the widely communicated initiatives to strengthen the role of design as a tool for innovation and competitiveness stem from the political domains of enterprise and industry, entrepreneurship and the cultural & creative industries. The focus seems to have been on building bridges between suppliers of design services and the marketplace, on measuring the effects of design and on integrating new design disciplines and design thinking more widely in private and public sectors. Less attention seems to have been given to the “product” itself – product as in design practice – and the rapid changes related to the materials, methodologies and manufacturing processes on which designers and design practice often depend. In 2010, an expert panel was gathered by EU’s DG Research & Innovation to discuss which initiatives were needed to address the possible technological and non-technological bottlenecks in materials research that still limit the success of creative industries – in this context primarily design and architecture – and what could be done to meet the new needs of the professions.\(^{15}\)
During 2011 and 2012, a fairly significant amount of funding was given to research projects which could possibly point at new opportunities for the creative industries; these projects primarily focused on new material properties and applications, from intelligent textiles to self-generating polymers. After two rounds of such funding as part of FP7 – the 7\(^{\text{th}}\) Research Framework Programme - a follow up expert panel was held in 2012 to evaluate the activities and to look at the role of possible new materials for the creative industries initiatives to be included in the next research programme in the EU – Horizon 2020.
*In the 2010 workshop “New materials for the creative industries”, the objective was to identify possible priorities in the field of research in materials for the creative industry with realistic potential for industrial development and to gather ideas on how to progress on the successful design of materials with improved performance. A pivotal question emerged: how can we foster synergies and collaborations*
\(^{13}\) [http://www.designpolicy.eu/](http://www.designpolicy.eu/)
\(^{14}\) [http://issuu.com/deep_initiative/docs/deep_glossary/1?e=8568957/3523717](http://issuu.com/deep_initiative/docs/deep_glossary/1?e=8568957/3523717)
between material scientists and engineers and the creative industries for the generation of growth and jobs in the EU?
To answer this question, a new round table meeting has been organised by the European Commission (DG Research and Innovation, Unit Materials) on October 5th 2012 in Brussels. The aim of the meeting was to hold an open discussion on the following specific points:
1. Can we identify "creative industries" that benefit from innovation materials?
2. Are there needs for materials research and innovation in common across different sectors?
3. How can we bring support to these needs via European Research and Innovation funding schemes?
Some quite encouraging conclusions in the report from this latest round table indicate a strengthened focus on actually taking the design industry (and architects) by the hand and building a more coherent value-chain of new knowledge and new opportunities, to enable practitioners to benefit from research-based innovation in which design plays an integral part and from which designers can develop new user-friendly and forward thinking solutions.
"The participants of the round table discussion called for a continuation and reinforcement of material research and innovation support. There should be an increased presence of materials suppliers, manufacturers and final users of the resulting products in technological research and innovation projects. European support should address all bottlenecks found in creating new, better performing and sustainable products, among which: knowledge gaps, IPR issues, access to finance, regulations, and standards. Creativity-driven innovation benefits from richer human and professional skills. Projects and prizes, as well as dedicated events, have been identified as instruments that can spread awareness, stimulate new ideas and the conception of new products, connect players along the value chain, and speed up access to market."
As design moves into new domains, new demands for materials, material properties and material processing technologies are needed – cont’d
Others have also done some thinking on the role of new materials and technologies – amongst others the Materials Community and the Knowledge Transfer Network for the Creative Industries in the UK - and it seems quite evident that the correlation between new materials and technologies, and the role of design and design practitioners in the years to come, plays an increasing role in the environments – both digital and physical – where the future of design is being discussed.
New technologies – threat or opportunity
As much as the development of new materials and new technologies opens up a wealth of new opportunities for the design industry, new challenges – or at least issues – also follow in their path. One, which has already made headlines both within and outside of the design press, relates to the emergence and rapidly increasing permeation of three-dimensional printing. A fast and easy introduction to the technology itself and the issues it raises can be found at a website managed by Christopher Barnatt, a futurist, author, videographer and Associate Professor of Computing and Future Studies in Nottingham University Business School. An American research centre – Lux Research – has estimated the growth of the 3D printed parts market over the next decade, and it leaves no doubt that this new technology, and the material developments it will trigger, will play a quite significant role for product designers in the future. The question is to what extent this is disturbing news or not.
---
[18] https://connect.innovateuk.org/documents/3220887/3676376/Five+Key+Themes+Theme+Champions+Executive+Summary.pdf/fe1e0720-d2d2-4f5a-b5ec-c4cf5a1402f2
One thing is beyond question, though – 3D printing has already raised numerous issues related to intellectual property rights and design protection (it was one of the main issues at ITA - International Trademark Association’s annual Design Protection Conference, which was held in Copenhagen in October 2012), to co-creation and collaborative design processes, to demands for new standards and levels of detailing in prototyping, and so on. On the other hand, as the new technologies are no longer simply regarded as helpful as part of the prototyping process, but as actual finished goods manufacturing technologies, it seems obvious that those designers who embark on the opportunities offered by the new technologies will have a clear advantage in the marketplace, as there have been no indications so far that the emergence of 3D printing is, or will become, an actual threat to professional design practice.
Design processes and methodologies
**Design is all it used to be, and then increasingly more than that by the day**
While the previous chapter focused on new materials and manufacturing technologies, and the challenges they might represent, the elements of design practice where the most ground breaking changes have taken place relate to the unique, yet diverse, and evermore appreciated processes and methodologies “owned” by design practitioners. Issues related to technology and materials may be of much greater interest to some parts of the community of design practitioners than to others, while issues relating to design processes and methodologies, on the other hand, ought to be of near-universal concern in the design community.
Over the last decade, design as a process has evolved from an intuitive and largely introvert process to an inclusive, participatory, and thus highly complex approach, running on equal portions of empirical and theoretical fuel. The Helen Hamlyn Centre for Design at the Royal College of Art has developed a useful overview of which methods designers currently apply to design of products and services as well as communication and physical spaces. 20
These changes do not necessarily mean that the fundamental proposition of design practice – as opposed to other professional denominations – has changed. The hallmark of design practitioners is still to deliver new direction and meaningfulness through interpretation and materialization of solutions that cater for user needs, consider contextual parameters and can
---
20 http://designingwithpeople.rca.ac.uk/methods
be realized within the restrictions of available means. During the first half of the last decade, there was such a “one-eyed” focus on methodology and new design disciplines that the core value of design – that of enhancing the attractiveness of solutions by proposing more aesthetic, more functional and more meaningful propositions than others could – almost drowned in the pool of design discourse. Interestingly, the last four or five years have allowed for a renaissance of these vital elements of design practice, in part because of stubbornness on the part of the professional design community itself - thus making space for a more balanced and faceted discussion about what design has to offer. 21
Resting assured that the original qualities of design practice are still valid, it makes sense to look at some of the new trends dominating the scene. One of them is the much more structured and documented approach to user analysis and engagement. Engaging users in the design process is nothing new per se – it was strongly both advocated and practiced by the Bauhaus movement and design pioneers throughout the world, from Ray and Charles Eames to the icons of the Danish Modern era. However, the methodologies were individual and somewhat random. What makes up the novelty is how the users are engaged. There are numerous good guides to doing so – in addition to the already cited one from Helen Hamlyn – e.g. the Swedish “The Weave” 22 and the infamous IDEO “Human-centered Toolkit” which is a very useful (and free) downloadable resource. 23 They all share the same DNA, which is a further development of the design core values previously referred to, merged with anthropological and ethnographical methodologies and sensitivity to the complexity of the digital era, issues of sustainability and social responsibility and – finally – a much more articulated awareness both in user communities and among providers of products, services and communication that users not only expect to be engaged in, but which willingly contribute to creative processes which may in one way or another influence their own lives.
Another overriding factor of contemporary design practice is the acknowledgment that design does not exist in isolation. Design serves a purpose – this is not new, but it also depends on and acts to support a number of other processes and strategies in an organisation. This, in turn means, that designers are expected to know and understand the language and thinking of people, whose success criteria are much more easily measured than the designers’ own. Clients hire designers to enhance their bottom line – sometimes only their financial bottom-line, and other times their triple bottom-line.
This fact on one hand seems obvious, and yet on the other has proved so difficult to cope with. Designers are rarely trained to think, talk or act as economists – as is true for most creative professionals. This is only one out of many conclusions in a comprehensive study of “The Entrepreneurial Dimension of the Cultural and Creative Industries” made by the University of Utrecht for EU’s DG Education and Culture in 2010: 24
“Essential training, from writing business plans to relating product ideas to a market situation, is required to remain informed and to reflect on new developments.”
An issue which in response to this and many other observations of design practitioners’ often limited ability to live up to the marketplace’s expectations, in terms of fully understanding the commercial perimeters of the project or value-chain in which they play a vital part, is cross-disciplinarity or multi-disciplinarity. A project is more often than not dependent on input from more than one professional discipline – i.e. multi-disciplinary. It becomes cross-disciplinary when one professional discipline is pursued as an integrated reflection of another – e.g. when the design service is delivered as an integrated function of a market strategy. Recently,
21 http://www.arthistory.upenn.edu/vlst2010-studentsites/em/content/form-function
23 http://www.ideo.com/work/human-centered-design-toolkit/
24 http://www.intracen.org/uploadedFiles/intracenorg/Content/About_ITC/Where_are_we_working/Multi-country_programmes/CARIFORUM/EDCCI_report-by-European-Commission.pdf
discussions on design education and development of professional design practice have focused on the need for designers to work “strategically”. However, this would imply that each individual designer would have to become multi-disciplinary in him – or herself, as business strategy is an area of equal complexity to design itself. Thus, cross-disciplinarity is probably a more viable approach – implying that designers acquire a basic understanding of business related issues, but link up with business strategy professionals when needed and when the requested service stretches beyond the core metier of design practice as we know it.
This might seem like a diversion from where we started, but the balance between focusing on core methodological issues like how to engage stakeholders and benefit from their contribution, how to “read the weak signals”, as Kristo Ahiström once said, and how to transform knowledge of needs, dreams and aspirations on one hand, and materials and manufacturing processes on the other, into meaningful output needs to be at the very centre of the design professional discourse in the time to come.
Service design
Managing the process of integrating existing design practices into systemic services is currently the most acute challenge for the design industry
Besides “design thinking”, “service design” has been the hottest concept related to the development of design practice during the last four or five years. Just like other concepts suddenly capturing the attention of both design researchers, practitioners and the design attentive parts of industry and the political environment, service design is still rather loosely defined, and is being used quite freely by many different players who, each for their own good reasons, see a potential in capitalizing on the concept. A good mirror of how a relatively new term is most commonly interpreted is how it reads in the oracle of modern times; Wikipedia;
“Service design is the activity of planning and organizing people, infrastructure, communication and material components of a service in order to improve its quality and the interaction between service provider and customers. The purpose of service design methodologies is to design according to the needs of customers or participants, so that the service is user-friendly, competitive and relevant to the customers.”
The most provocative question, which seems to be asked more and more often, is whether designers – at large – are capable of delivering good service design. More often than we seem
to admit, the answer unfortunately seems to be no. The reason for this might be that service
design, as indicated in the heading, is a systemic discipline – an approach, as it reads in the
above excerpt from Wikipedia, to “plan and organize” a multitude of components into a
coherent relation between two or more parties. Of course, planning and organizing goes into
most design operations, but more as a means to create a new component than as a goal in
itself. Service design is possibly the most process-dependent design discipline of all, and
adding to that, its core is not a tangible outcome, but a new way of doing something. Why
should designers be better at this than anyone else? Well, quite a few scholars claim that the
traditional skills and competencies of designers could potentially be not only relevant but key to
developing new and improving existing services in both the public and private sectors. One of
the sources already referred to, Lucy Kimbell of Oxford University, writes in her article “The turn
to Service Design”25, that:
“The most relevant actors in the further development of service design are likely to be the designers
themselves, managers and entrepreneurs in organizations offering services, especially those involved in
service management, operations, marketing and innovation, institutions, such as design departments in
education, government bodies and policymakers, academics studying services – especially those with an
interest in design and innovation, service users and technologies which may support new arrangements
of services and the involvement of users, for example in open innovation.”
Despite its length, the one sentence above cuts it quite sharply. Designers can and will play a
significant role in developing service design as a concept and field of practice, but not on their
own. More than ever, those designers who decide to pursue the field of service design as their
specialty, will have to depend on their contribution being only that – a contribution to a complex
delivery – and on an army of other contributors from a wide range of professional backgrounds.
Some designers have already worked in such ways before and are trained in dealing with the
collaborative nature of this kind of work. Others suffer from giving up the sovereignty of being
“the” designer behind a solution. In any case, it calls for careful consideration for designers
coming from industrial design or visual communication to embark on the service design train.
There are many indications that designers have a lot to contribute to service design processes,
and yet a question remains as to whether more than a handful of designers and/or design
agencies have yet nurtured their new design discipline to a degree that they are able to
champion a design service process of a certain complexity. Perhaps service design will only be
as natural a part of design practice as the more “traditional” design disciplines when service
design has established itself as an educational direction alongside industrial design and visual
communication. Fortunately, there are already some well-tested sources for how to work with
service design both in public and private sectors, e.g. an online resource developed by Design
Vlaanders and Yellow Window26, the UK Government Design Service Manual27 and – on a more
overruling level, the EU “Smart Guide to Service Innovation”28 – all valuable tools for those
design practitioners who want to investigate whether service design should be part of their own
future proposition.
A unique feature of service design is that – as a design discipline – it is equally relevant for
public as it is for private sectors. One might say that so is communication design and design of
a wide range of industrially manufactured products, but there is no doubt that as service design
matures and its effects are documented, a quite overwhelming new market opens up for design
practitioners, namely that connected to the largest client community in modern societies, the
public sector – whether the services are procured directly by a public authority or by a private
to a solution, as it reads in the above excerpt from Wikipedia, to “plan and organize” a multitude of components into a coherent relation between two or more parties. Of course, planning and organizing goes into most design operations, but more as a means to create a new component than as a goal in itself. Service design is possibly the most process-dependent design discipline of all, and adding to that, its core is not a tangible outcome, but a new way of doing something. Why should designers be better at this than anyone else? Well, quite a few scholars claim that the traditional skills and competencies of designers could potentially be not only relevant but key to developing new and improving existing services in both the public and private sectors. One of the sources already referred to, Lucy Kimbell of Oxford University, writes in her article “The turn to Service Design”\(^\text{25}\), that:
“The most relevant actors in the further development of service design are likely to be the designers themselves, managers and entrepreneurs in organizations offering services, especially those involved in service management, operations, marketing and innovation, institutions, such as design departments in education, government bodies and policymakers, academics studying services – especially those with an interest in design and innovation, service users and technologies which may support new arrangements of services and the involvement of users, for example in open innovation.”
Despite its length, the one sentence above cuts it quite sharply. Designers can and will play a significant role in developing service design as a concept and field of practice, but not on their own. More than ever, those designers who decide to pursue the field of service design as their specialty, will have to depend on their contribution being only that – a contribution to a complex delivery – and on an army of other contributors from a wide range of professional backgrounds. Some designers have already worked in such ways before and are trained in dealing with the collaborative nature of this kind of work. Others suffer from giving up the sovereignty of being “the” designer behind a solution. In any case, it calls for careful consideration for designers coming from industrial design or visual communication to embark on the service design train. There are many indications that designers have a lot to contribute to service design processes, and yet a question remains as to whether more than a handful of designers and/or design agencies have yet nurtured their new design discipline to a degree that they are able to champion a design service process of a certain complexity. Perhaps service design will only be as natural a part of design practice as the more “traditional” design disciplines when service design has established itself as an educational direction alongside industrial design and visual communication. Fortunately, there are already some well-tested sources for how to work with service design both in public and private sectors, e.g. an online resource developed by Design Vlaanders and Yellow Window\(^\text{26}\), the UK Government Design Service Manual\(^\text{27}\) and – on a more overruling level, the EU “Smart Guide to Service Innovation”\(^\text{28}\) – all valuable tools for those design practitioners who want to investigate whether service design should be part of their own future proposition.
A unique feature of service design is that – as a design discipline – it is equally relevant for public as it is for private sectors. One might say that so is communication design and design of a wide range of industrially manufactured products, but there is no doubt that as service design matures and its effects are documented, a quite overwhelming new market opens up for design practitioners, namely that connected to the largest client community in modern societies, the public sector – whether the services are procured directly by a public authority or by a private enterprise as part of a public-private-partnership model. And as government bodies start embracing the concept, as many have already done, at least in principle – like the UK
\(^{26}\) http://www.service design toolkit.org/
\(^{27}\) https://www.gov.uk/service-manual
\(^{28}\) http://ec.europa.eu/enterprise/policies/sme/regional-sme-policies/documents/no.4_service_innovation_en.pdf
government – the serving right will gradually be left to the design community itself to deliver design for better public services as well as the documentation of how it benefits both the public sector and those that it serves.
That being said, service design is, as already mentioned, also a new opportunity for those design practitioners who target private sector clients. Not only do more and more companies build their business models on service propositions only – thus creating a new need for service design services, so to speak, and useful tools to deliver “customer journeys” – but manufacturers of tangible products will also spend an increasing part of their innovation resources on developing services and business models to support and enhance their core product or products – a phenomenon for which there is already a more and more commonly used term, at least in academic circles: servitization.
Socially responsible and sustainable design
From niche to universally integrated considerations
For more than a generation, pioneers in advocating and practising socially responsible and sustainable design – based on varying degrees of solid facts, intuition and indignation, and always with the best possible intentions – have managed to grasp the attention of at least parts of the design community. Among these pioneers, it would feel wrong not to mention Victor Papanek as possibly the most influential. But Ray and Charles Eames, also previously mentioned, were very clear about their design taking into consideration not only the needs of their clients and their own aspirations as designers, but also an overall consideration for society as a whole, as their famous model shows.
Over the last decade or so, these issues have become commonplace elements of design practice, insofar as design practitioners have access to the knowledge they need to actually deliver the optimal solution from a sustainability point of view. The challenge for most designers, however, is to source sufficient and reliable data to do so. In part, there might be issues over which the experts battle, and in part, the complexity of a product or service might present the designer with such an overwhelming amount of data to process and assess that this part of the job might seem unreasonably time consuming in light of the resources allocated to the project.
---
30 http://www.innovateuk.org/documents/1524978/1814792/Keeping+Connected+-+Design+methods+for+developing+services+%28Archive%29/d358586d-80b3-4f1e-b753-16750434829d
31 http://www.cambridgeservicealliance.org/uploads/downloadfiles/Can a Product Manufacturer be a Successful Service Provider.pdf
32 http://papanek.org/about/victor-j-papanek/
This may not be a problem when working for organizations with sufficient resources to guide and supply the design team with the data they need, but it poses a great challenge for designers where this is not the case.
One of the most dominant “schools” or directions influencing design practice during the last five-six years has been C2C – Cradle to Cradle – developed by the designer William McDonough and chemist Michael Braungart, and published in their book “Cradle to Cradle: Remaking the Way We Make Things” back in 2002. Bram van der Grinten, who is an action researcher developing methodology for Nature Inspired Design (NID) at TU Delft, has written a “how to” guide which makes the principles of C2C more easily accessible. Even though it dates back half a decade, the guide could, for some, — be a useful companion if or when a client expects the design delivery to be assessed according to this “school”.
Another approach, which does not appear as a business concept to the same extent as C2C, is LCA – life cycle assessment. The European Platform on Life Cycle Assessment has made a very short yet quite useful introduction to the LCA concept, which, in contrast to C2C, raises very few controversies.
The two approaches specifically mentioned above are certainly not the only ones, but they deserve a mention because of the impact they have had on design practice at large. Other approaches, which may also be worth acquainting oneself with as a designer, are SLOW design, biomimicry (the idea of learning from nature itself), emotional durability and upcycling - a concept which quite recently seems to have caught on, and which stems from the same McDonough and Braungart who introduced C2C. At the end of the day, practicing sustainable design will most often be a combination of bits and pieces from all of the above, combined with the individual designer’s own aspirations to reduce the “footprint” from his or her own professional practice.
Sustainable design requires responsiveness to issues of environmental responsibility, but also requires knowledge of, and the ability to assess issues of social responsibility as well as financial responsibility – in line with triple bottom line thinking – or even quadruple, as is the core idea of AIGA’s “the Living Principles” – adding cultural vitality to the three other elements.
Additionally, a specific responsibility rests with the designer – the responsibility, which comes with user advocacy and the power vested in the design practitioners’ influence on the products, services, spaces and communication they develop for others. This does not imply that all products or services should necessarily be available to or accessible by all, but it does impose on all in possession of such influence the responsibility to assess issues of diversity and accessibility – for which principles like design-for-all and universal design are valuable guides.
All these concerns are currently day-to-day considerations for many design practitioners, as knowledge of and the ability to advise clients with regard to such issues as an integrated part of the design service is expected. However, they also pose designers with additional demands for keeping abreast with new knowledge, new methodologies and new ideas. This, in turn, raises issues of how the design community, design support organizations and design political measures can contribute to making new insights and methodologies to deliver socially responsible and sustainable design that is more accessible to the individual practitioner – at a
reasonable cost, both financially and in terms of time invested.
Design management
Design is only of significant commercial value if it is properly managed
While the use of design is proven to be valuable to private as well as public organisations, research also shows quite clearly that there is a direct correlation between the strategic importance and application of design and the bottom line effect. Moreover, design processes, which are not being managed as integral to overall corporate strategies, are not likely to give the client organisation return on investment.\(^{41}\) This relation between the application of design management and the value of either procuring external or using internal design resources is quite significant – both for design practitioners and their services, for design managers and for organisations investing in design.
A valuable source of information about how design management is being used in real life is to be found in the DME Survey from 2009. The overall picture has most probably not changed significantly since then.\(^{42}\) It concludes that there is little structural focus on design in management courses and that there also appears to be a lack of specific training options for experienced designers with sufficient management skills who want targeted design management training. It also concludes that this situation can only be turned around, and the necessary progress can only be sustained, through common efforts by broad groups: the design sector itself, the training/education sector, trade associations, business and design support organisations and governments. What might have changed over the last three or four years, however, is the appreciation of the need to see design as an integral part of corporate and public strategies in order to benefit fully from design – at least on a policy level. What remains is the need for more research, more training opportunities and increased awareness among design-dependent organisations of how design management can co-exist with and actually enhance existing processes for the development of new products and services. Some researchers, amongst others Claudia Acklin from Switzerland, have focused on how to lower the barriers for uptake of design management in the corporate sector.\(^{43}\) One of the projects co-financed by the 1st Action Plan of the European Design Innovation Initiative, European House of Design Management, aims at doing the same in the public sector, based on the knowledge and experiences already gathered from the private sector.
A question, which will be addressed again and again, is whether design management is a role or a function, whether it can or should be part of the design practitioner’s proposition or if it takes dedicated design managers – with or without design backgrounds – to manage design processes successfully and profitably. One of the most renowned researchers on design management, Brigitte Borja de Mozota, advocates design management as a management function at the highest possible level, and emphasises the need for designers to optimise their existing core professional skills: “Managers have to integrate design theories into their organizational theories, and see “design science”, design methods, and conceptual models as skills for designing their organizational platforms, structures, and systems. This is a challenge for design education. Designers have to reinvent the guilds, and to become more effective entrepreneurs in order to help society at large to face the changes in this transitional period between two sociotechnical systems. They also have to
\(^{41}\) http://www.librarian.net/novon/page.jsp?paperid=17302608&searchTerm=conference+1st
\(^{43}\) http://www.hslu.ch/d-paper_design_management_absorption_modelacklin_11__2_.pdf
design their profession as a part of the creative industries.” 44 But then, on the other hand, we have seen some first class examples of professional designers moving into and becoming champions of design management, so there is probably no fixed formula – except from the quite likely precondition that to perform design management at a high level, one needs to have both deep respect for and deep understanding of both design and management as complementary disciplines.
Epilogue
The future of design practice is a function of complexity and higher expectations
Design practice as an independent professional discipline – at least as we know it today – is still rather young, even though early references to “designer” as a job title had emerged before World War Two. Since then, the role of design and designers has evolved and thoroughly changed decade by decade. Part of this change relates to the increasing complexity of design application – from singular objects in one or few materials to complex systems of integral technologies and functionalities. Another axis of change is the increasing focus on measurable effects in terms of ROI – return on investment. There is no reason to believe that these two parallel trends will not also continue to challenge design practice in the future. 45
The question is how the design community and the individual design practitioner responds to these new challenges. On an individual basis, the challenge might be that of limiting one’s scope in terms of service proposition – as a means to become as pointed and competitive as possible. For design firms, the challenge might be to develop a portfolio of competences and methodological resources to match a specific market segment. And for the design profession at large, the challenge might be to retain the right of serve in the field of giving form and meaning to the development of products, services and communication – without closing in on itself, slowly creating an open space for other professional communities integrating their own version of design into their propositions, and thus eventually leaving the design profession obsolete.
This might sound like a dismal scenario, but it is not necessarily all that far-fetched. In its publication “what matters – social innovation; can fresh thinking solve the world’s most intractable problems?” McKinsey, one of the world’s most successful management consultancies adopts ideas of both design thinking and social design as ways to solve some of the big challenges we face.46 Which, of course is good news. However, it could potentially also be one very clear signal that the “mckinseys” of this world are slowly adopting not only design thinking, but design doing as part of their offer to demanding clients in the market for change. Some close observers of the design community and the rapid development in design practice are just waiting for the large, multi-national consultancies to embrace design for real. This will certainly present both design practitioners and design businesses throughout the world with some hitherto unknown challenges. For this, and for so many other good reasons, amongst others the growing political awareness of design’s potential, the design community – and design practitioners and the professional design community in particular – needs to ensure that the design discourse and the playing field for designers and professional design practice do not slip and slide away from under them. The design community –on national, regional and
45 http://www.designresearchsociety.org/docs-procs/DRS2010/PDF/121.pdf
international levels – will be even more vulnerable and fragile than what we see today if the “ownership” of design slowly changes hands. Thus, it is crucial that designers across disciplines and across national and regional borders, unite to recapture the domain of professional design from the multi-nationals, from the MBA community and from all the other forces which are needed to support and promote design as a powerful source of innovation and quality of life, but which might not have the same sensitivity to the core values of design as the community of professional designers itself. At the European Design Innovation Summit in Helsinki in 2011, Commission Vice President Antonio Tajani said that:
“European corporations and the public sector need desperately quality design innovations. There are 23 million private businesses, for them, design could be the answer for a sustainable growth.”
That must be the most direct challenge, and yet the most intriguing opportunity and invitation, European designers have faced in many years. It’s now up to the European design community to rise to the occasion.
Please note: All links referred to were active and corresponding with the text at the time of publication. As references change rapidly, some of the texts links referred to might thus have been moved or deleted from their original locations. |
For centuries, compositional instructions for writing canons have drawn attention to the particular *dux-comes* and *comes-dux* relations shown in Figure 1. First, compose musical material to span the first time interval of the canon (TIC 1) in the *dux*. Copy this material into the *comes*, often transposed, one time interval of the canon later (TIC 2). Then, compose a counterpoint to the *comes* for the *dux* part during TIC 2. As far back as 1667, Christopher Simpson described this process, concluding with the vague recommendation to continue this method “to what length or shortness you please.”¹ Using only these guidelines, a fragmented melody seems likely, and it is hard to imagine creating a larger-scale canonic organization.
Over the last twenty years a number of articles have introduced methods that can inform larger-scale thinking about the composition and analysis of canons.² These articles have focused primarily on the *dux* part, and particularly the melodic intervals separating notes one time inter-
---
val of the canon apart. In this article, I consider the organizational potential for a set of canonic patterns that are new to the theoretical literature about canons. I call these patterns canonic threads. Canonic threads provide a simple method for determining what note will sound a given number of time intervals of the canon away. When threads are present in a canon, they offer a valuable analytic approach that at times complements, and at other times operates apart from our common forms of analysis that focus on topics such as voice leading and harmonic progression.
Canonic threads pair the traditional connection between dux and comes upon which canonic hearing depends (the dux part for the space of one TIC, and the comes part in the following TIC) with a radically different relationship between the comes and dux, now between a comes in one TIC and the dux in the following TIC. Figure 2 provides the model of a single
canonic thread. Each arrow connects the material one time interval of the canon apart, which is here presented as one measure. We can connect the skipped passages from Figure 2 (e.g., the dux for TIC 2) to form a second thread. Figure 3 maps two threads within a canonic passage: the first with solid-lined arrows, and the second with broken-lined arrows. At the beginning of a canonic passage, the parenthesized number 1 in the comes will not sound because the comes does not enter until the second TIC. Zigzagging arrows, which naturally could be drawn between the dux and comes of any canon, only determine a thread when a definite organizational principle exists between the TIC notes that they connect. Before turning to these organizational principles I will address the concept of TIC note.
A TIC note is a single note that represents a canonic part (or, on rare occasions, a non-canonic accompanying part) for the length of one time interval of the canon. For example, if the TIC is two measures, a single TIC note would represent two measures of the dux or comes. A TIC note tends to be the first chord tone that sounds during a particular time interval of the canon. By this definition, it is common to find TIC notes exactly on a downbeat. However, if a non-harmonic tone such as a suspension occurs at the beginning of a TIC, the TIC note generally is the note of resolution that ensues. On rare occasions a TIC note can be a non-chord tone, as long as it is the first note consonant with the bass. In the sections to come, the challenges of choosing TIC notes that belong to canonic threads will be discussed as they arise in the context of each canon. The term thread note designates a TIC note that belongs to a thread.
There are two different organizational types of threads. In the first type, the thread notes change by a repeated single interval. This type of thread can be further classified by the interval that separates the TIC notes: in a repeated-note thread, the thread notes “change” by unison; in a stepwise thread, the thread notes change by second; and finally, in a skipped-note thread, the
thread notes change by a single larger interval (either a third, fourth, fifth, etc.). The second type of thread is an arpeggiation thread. In this thread, notes change by more than one interval (e.g., thirds and fourths) in order to arpeggiate a single chord. The sample TIC notes C–F–A–C–F would comprise an arpeggiation thread. Both organizational types follow familiar ordering techniques. Whether or not a piece is canonic, composers and listeners depend on repeated notes, stepwise passages, and arpeggiation to provide materials for composition. By finding these patterns in canonic threads, we are further exploring the organizational capacity of familiar musical phenomena as well as deriving a powerful means for predicting the long-range path of some canons.
We can visually simplify the zigzagging layout of a canonic thread by arranging the thread notes on a single staff as in Figure 4. D1 denotes the TIC note from the dux at the first TIC; C2 denotes the TIC note from the comes at the second TIC; and so forth. In general, the thread that begins with the first TIC note of the dux will be called Thread 1. Figure 5 arranges two simultaneous threads on two staves. As noted before, C1 is parenthesized because C2 is the first TIC note in the comes.
A further step in simplifying the arrangement of thread notes can be to place the pitches of the thread graph into some close registral position. Although it is not always necessary, an arrangement of the thread notes into close registral position can be useful to focus attention on how the TIC notes are organized. The notes C–D–E, for example, could be separated by intervals of an ascending second and a descending seventh. Only when these notes are arranged in close registral position does the stepwise thread become visually apparent. The registral reductions in Figure 6 reveal repeated, stepwise, and arpeggiation threads. Quarter notes represent each TIC.
**FIGURE 6.** Registral reductions
(a) Repeated-note thread
(b) Stepwise thread
(c) Arpeggiation thread
FIGURE 7. Threads in variations from Bach’s Goldberg Variations and Brahms’s Variations on a Theme by Schumann, op. 9
Bach: Goldberg Variations
- Variation 6: Ascending Stepwise Thread
- Variation 9 (mm. 1–8): Thread by Descending Thirds
- Variation 11 (mm. 1–4): Thread by Ascending Fourths
- Variation 11 (mm. 9–11): Thread by Descending Fifths
Brahms: Variations on a Theme by Schumann, op. 9
- Variation 8: Repeated-Note Thread
- Variation 14: Ascending Stepwise Thread
- Variation 15: Arpeggiated Thread
I will develop the concept of canonic threads using Bach’s Goldberg Variations and Brahms’s Variations on a Theme by Schumann, op. 9, as focus pieces. Both of these works have multiple canonic variations. The variations with canonic threads are listed in Figure 7. The study of these variations demonstrates how the organizational patterns found in threads offer predictability for longer-range compositional planning and can be adapted easily to diverse situations. What is more, the organizational simplicity of threads provides a counterbalance to the complexities inherent in canonic compositions.
**BRAHMS, VARIATIONS ON A THEME BY SCHUMANN: NO. 8**
Variation 8 is the first of the canonic variations in Brahms’s Op. 9; it is reproduced in Figure 8. The canonic interval is the octave or double octave below, depending on whether the upper or lower notes of the left-hand tremolo are chosen for the comes. The TIC notes are all chord tones on the downbeats of the odd-numbered measures. The variation’s surprisingly
---
3 Measure 3 is an interesting case, because the A in the dux is part of a cadential 6/4 chord and moves down on the following beat to a C♯ which is part of a 5/3 chord. In the construction of this canon, however, the dux A in the F♯6 chord nevertheless enjoys a certain priority for the schema of Figure 8, because the link between mm. 1 and 3 is that both downbeats include the notes F♯–A–C♯. It is secondary for this canonic schema that in m. 3 the notes occur in a second-inversion chord that is part of a cadential structure.
FIGURE 8. Brahms, *Variations on a Theme by Schumann*, op. 9:
Variation 8, canon at the octave/double octave
[continued]
**Figure 8.** [continuation]
**Figure 9.** Brahms, Variation 8: *dux* pattern
Measure: 1 3 5 7 9 11 13 15 17 19 21 23 25
TIC: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13
Intervallc Change: -3 +3 -3 +3 -3 +3 -3 +3 -3 -3
Form: A B (=inversion of A) A'
pedestrian pattern of TIC notes is shown in Figure 9, with each two-measure TIC represented by one quarter note, and brackets marking off the ternary form divisions in the dux. All the consecutive pairs of notes are related by thirds. While the similarity of the outer sections (bracketed) is not surprising considering the ABA' form of the theme, the inverted nature of the middle section is remarkable.
To determine if there is a thread, we must go a step further and consider the TIC notes in the comes, and in particular those that alternate with every other one of the dux’s TIC notes. Figure 10 arranges these alternating dux and comes notes. In a sense, the thread lacks even the pedestrian excitement of the dux pattern in Figure 9. The thread is made up entirely of the note C#. A registral reduction of the type shown in Figure 6a establishes this as a repeated-note thread. Because the canon is at the octave, it is a given that a dux C# will lead to a comes C#, one TIC later. It would not, however, be a given that the comes C# will be followed by a dux C# at the following TIC, except that Schumann’s melody repeats the C# every four measures as shown in Figure 11 at the start of each system. In Figure 10, the line that marks the repeated-note thread does not extend to m. 25, because the final TIC note in the dux sounds an F# rather than a C#. This F# is the only TIC note that is not imitated by the comes, because the variation ends here.
4 My article “Canonic Patterns: Reframing the Puzzle” refers to the prevalence of thirds between adjacent TIC notes in the dux. This Brahms variation is another example of that interval’s frequency.
The workings of this canon largely rely on the simplicity of Schumann’s melody. Of course, even with such a humble thread pattern, a canon will invariably test the ear with a myriad of metric and harmonic complexities. The repeated-note thread is a logical outgrowth of the three repeated C#s that initiate Schumann’s melody. However the most stunning relationship is between the thread notes and Brahms’s accompanimental figure. A match between the thread and the left-hand tremolo figure is shown in Figure 12. The top part of the figure organizes the alternating dux and comes notes from the thread onto a single staff. The comes notes of the thread
5 Schumann provides a substantial hint that the melody can be treated canonically. The opening three upper-voice C#s are imitated in the lower staff in mm. 3–4. Schumann adjusts the texture in m. 4 to five voices at least in part to repeat this C# motive in an inner voice. Even the accompanying tenor voice from mm. 1–2 is repeated from mm. 3–4, now in the soprano.
Canonic threads are an octave higher than those in Figure 10 because they correspond to the upper notes of the left-hand tremolo. Figure 12’s lower staff reproduces the opening measure of the *comes* (m. 3) with its two sextuplet groupings of C♯ in the left hand. These repeated C♯s closely match the twelve repeated C♯s that comprise Thread 1 of the variation. The first measure of the eccentric left-hand figuration pattern provides a miniature presentation of the canonic thread over the entire variation. And this astonishing relationship between accompanimental figuration and canonic thread is also found later in Variation 15, which is analyzed at the end of this article.
The role of a simple pattern as a backbone for the canonic composition is also evidenced by the TIC notes that occur in the *dux* every four measures starting with m. 3. If Brahms had appropriated the Schumann theme exactly for his own canonic *dux*, the downbeat notes would be A in m. 3, A in m. 7, C♯ in m. 11, E in m. 15, A in m. 19, and A in m. 23. The top staff in Figure 13 marks with asterisks where Brahms changes the expected note from Schumann’s theme. Brahms changes the note at m. 11 from Schumann’s C♯ to an E, and he inflects the note at m. 15 from the theme’s E♯ to an E♭. These adjustments result in a series of three shorter threads, each corresponding to one section. Zigzagging lines between the staffs mark repeated-note threads; a repeated-A thread, a repeated-E thread (with chromatic inflection introduced by the *dux*’s E♭ in
**Figure 12.** Relation between left-hand figuration and repeated-note thread (in original register)
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Measure</th>
<th>1</th>
<th>3</th>
<th>5</th>
<th>7</th>
<th>9</th>
<th>11</th>
<th>13</th>
<th>15</th>
<th>17</th>
<th>19</th>
<th>21</th>
<th>23</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>Voice</td>
<td>D</td>
<td>C</td>
<td>D</td>
<td>C</td>
<td>D</td>
<td>C</td>
<td>D</td>
<td>C</td>
<td>D</td>
<td>C</td>
<td>D</td>
<td>C</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
**Thread 1**
**Figuration in comes, m. 3**
Beat: 1 2
---
Gamut 5/1 (2012) 143
m. 15), and another repeated-A thread (now with chromatic inflection introduced in m. 25 by the *comes*!). Of course, threads on the notes A and E will assure imperfect consonances with the repeated-C♯ thread. Figure 14 portrays, after registral reduction, the C♯ thread on the upper staff, and the A and E threads on the lower staff. Brahms’s arrangement of the canonic frame with all imperfect consonances eliminates the trap of parallel perfect consonances. Given the constant thirds between threads, Brahms’s primary means of pitch experimentation for the thread notes is limited to chromatic inflection.
The simple contrapuntal frame in this variation is well suited for the large-scale harmonic motions in the theme. Figure 15 arranges the Schumann theme to highlight the harmonic divisions of each section. The A section progresses from tonic to mediant harmony. The B section progresses from the mediant to the minor dominant. Then, the A’ section, instead of starting and ending on the tonic, begins with a wondrous vii⁷/iv, and ends as expected on the tonic. The notes of Brahms’s canonic thread reflect the theme’s reliance on tonic, mediant, and dominant
**FIGURE 15.** Harmonic divisions of Schumann’s theme
**FIGURE 16.** Brahms, Variation 8: harmonic progressions related to thread notes
Measure: 1 3 5 7 9 11 13 15 17 19 21 23 25
harmonies. Figure 16 shows how each pairing of thread notes can fit into two different third-related chords. In the example, each TIC is represented by a quarter note. The top-staff C♯ thread is presented as three whole notes, which indicate the phrasing of the dux part (eight-measure phrases). The bottom-staff threads are notated with quarter notes to preserve chromatic inflections, and to show that the first phrase in the comes overlaps the second phrase in the dux. The notes A and C♯ can belong to either an F♯ or A triad. The notes E (or E♯) and C♯ can belong to either an A or C♯ triad.
BACH, GOLDBERG VARIATIONS: NO. 6
Bach’s sixth Goldberg variation, shown in Figure 17, is a canon at the second. The threads in this variation are not as beholden to a dux pattern as were the threads of Brahms’s Variation 8. As in the Brahms, however, the canonic interval determines the basic movement between successive thread notes—now by ascending seconds. The score in Figure 17 arranges the dux and comes on separate staves. The repeats have been deleted so that the eight-measure phrases can be aligned.
Bach’s thirty-two measure theme is divided into four, eight-measure phrases. Each phrase has a different harmonic path. The first and last chords of each phrase are as follows:
| Phrase 1: | I to I |
| Phrase 2: | I to V |
| Phrase 3: | V to vi |
| Phrase 4: | ii to I |
6 One of the most interesting aspects of this variation is the persistence of 6/4 harmony. When the notes A and C♯ occur in a 6/4 chord, it is clear that they are functioning as part of a cadential figure. In a very important sense then, the chords are better described as V6(5/3) or V6(5/3)/III than as I or III. For our present canonic purposes, however, it is more relevant to focus on the spelling of the chord.
7 The vii°/iv chord does not occur in the canonic variation. However, the A♯, which grounds this chord, sneaks into the A-thread at m. 25 of the variation. Here, A♯ is the raised third of the tonic chord, a stability that counters the fleeting A♯ of the theme.
FIGURE 17. Bach, Goldberg Variations: Variation 6, canon at the second
[continued]
FIGURE 17. [continuation]
Canonic threads provide a simple tool for recognizing which notes will arrive a given number of TICs in the future (in this case, eight TICS or measures).
Because the TIC is one measure, the thread has the possibility to rise one pitch per measure. The opening G in the *dux* is obliged, by virtue of the canon, to be imitated in the *comes* by an A. Although the *comes* of m. 2 need not hold any claim on m. 3, the *dux* of the Bach variation continues a “stepwise ascent” to B in m. 3. The pitch actually descends a seventh, but a registral reduction makes the stepwise connection obvious. The *dux* B is predictably imitated by the *comes* C in m. 4. The *dux* in m. 5 continues the scale by providing the D, again reaching into a lower octave than the previous *comes* note. The sixth note of the scale follows canonically (*comes*, m. 6). To complete the pattern through an entire octave, a listener aware of the procedure would expect F♯ and G to sound in the *dux* and *comes*, respectively, in mm. 7–8. Instead, it is surprising to hear these voices sound the notes A and B, which do not belong to this thread. The F♯ and G do occur, however: they are in the accompanying voice, and even in the low octave that follows the thread’s earlier registral pattern. The low G of m. 8 is also doubled by the *dux*. The thread in Bach’s canonic variation has escaped from the fabric of the canonic voices. The “accompaniment” seems actually designed to be included in the patterned structure created by the canonic parts.
---
8 This is partly due to the need to control the register of the upper two voices. The high B that is avoided in m. 3 is the highest note of the variation, and only occurs once. This note is saved for the *comes* part of m. 18. Octave transfers, with regard to canon, are discussed by Jean-Philippe Rameau. He observes that, in his vocal canons, there will be points where the vocal range will be exceeded, necessitating the singer to sing an octave lower than written. See Rameau, *Traité de l’harmonie réduite à ses principes naturels* (Paris, 1722), reprinted in vol. 1 of *The Complete Theoretical Writings of Jean-Philippe Rameau* (1683–1764), ed. Erwin R. Jacobi ([s.l.]: American Institute of Musicology, 1967–72): “Lorsque la Voix ne peut former l’Octave à l’endroit marqué d’un A, il n’y a qu’à prendre l’Unisson de la Note précédente” (361). See also the translation by Philip Gossett as *Treatise on Harmony* (New York: Dover, 1971): “When the voice cannot form the octave at the place marked A, we need only take the unison of the preceding note instead” (370).
9 These notes generate a third thread that will not be discussed here.
The octave thread between mm. 1–8, shown in the top staff of Figure 18, spells a G-major scale, registrally shifted through three descending octaves. This scale is possible because the opening phrase is eight measures long, providing a perfect fit between the number of measures/TICs and the number of notes in an octave. Since the first eight measures of the Goldberg theme begin and end on a tonic chord, a complete scale in the thread is a logical compositional choice. The first eight measures of this canon are unambiguously in G major. Thread 2 is shown in the bottom staff of Figure 18. Each of its notes during this phrase is a third below or a sixth above the Thread-1 note of the same measure. Interestingly, in mm. 1–8 Thread 2 does not intrinsically project G-major structures. Thread 2 is missing a note in m. 1 (necessarily, since the comes does not enter in m. 1), and also a note in m. 8. The stepwise pattern suggests that the note E would have sounded in both of these measures, and an X notehead indicates both extensions to the pattern. Of course, these Es (perhaps suggesting E minor) would disrupt the tonal organization of the Goldberg theme. For this reason, it is only by what I will call endpoint omission that this phrase can begin and end on tonic harmony.
Because threads are comprised of simple patterns, their organizational power and span can pertain even when notes are missing from the dux and comes. Thread 1 during mm. 1–8 extends an octave, even though its final two notes are heard in the accompaniment. In Thread 2,
the endpoint omission of Es allows the phrase to begin and end on the desired tonic harmony. While these endpoints are not relevant to mm. 1–8 we will see that they play a role later in the variation.
Let us now consider the second eight measures of Variation 6. The theme poses a challenge to using threads in these measures because it dictates that the phrase must begin with tonic harmony and end with dominant harmony. Chord movement up a fifth, over eight measures, rules out an octave thread of the type seen in the first phrase. We might expect this to lead to considerable differences between the phrases, but the threads of both phrases are astonishingly similar. This similarity relies on the fact that Thread 2 of the second phrase, like Thread 2 of the first phrase, is not required to begin with G. It can also begin with an omitted tone. As in the first phrase, an omitted E extends the stepwise ascent. Therefore, in mm. 9–16, the chord movement can be understood as a seventh (E to D) rather than a fifth (G to D). The thread’s ambitus is only one note smaller in phrase two than in phrase one.
Figure 19 aligns the threads of the first and second phrases. Their similarity is readily apparent. The first five measures of each phrase begin with Thread 1 moving from G to D and Thread 2 moving from an omitted E to B. In mm. 9–12, Thread 1’s “ascent” is flavored by chromaticism. In addition to this change, there are registral differences between the two phrases.\(^\text{10}\)
The main change to note names is made toward the end of the second phrase, as a direct response to the new harmonic conditions. Phrase two only completes a pitch-class ascent of a
---
\(^{10}\) Although the Thread-1 notes for phrase two, determined by the downbeat notes, ascend by second through m. 15 without any registral reduction, within each of the first four measures there is an octave leap (G3 to G4 in the \textit{dux} of m. 9, A3 to A4 in the \textit{comes} of m. 10, B3 to B4 in the \textit{dux} of m. 11, and C\#4 to C\#5 in the \textit{comes} of m. 12). As a result there is a descending seventh across \textit{each} barline (e.g., G4 in m. 9 to A3 in m. 10); this actually intensifies the thread leaps of a descending seventh that occurred in the first phrase, once every two measures.
seventh. What I will call a *delay technique* stretches the seven pitches over eight measures. At m. 13, Thread 1’s D is held for two measures instead of one. The tied D at m. 14 is somewhat unusual in this variation because it is not a dissonant suspension. The note D is the first of the *dux*’s chord tones in both m. 13 and m. 14. This pair of Ds is imitated in the *comes* with two downbeat Es in mm. 14–15. The move from a two-measure *dux* D to a two-measure *comes* E creates an overlap of both notes in m. 14 because this canon’s TIC is one measure. Therefore it takes three measures, not two, for the thread to move from D to E.\(^{11}\)
\(^{11}\) Interestingly, this same delay technique occurs at the end of phrase one going into phrase two, but it is not tied to either of phrase one’s previously established threads. The delayed ascent from the *dux* A to *comes* B occurs in mm. 7–9 just as Thread 1 breaks into the accompanying voice and Thread 2 omits the endpoint E.
In m. 14, the dux’s D does not continue Thread 2 by step. By treating this D as part of Thread 1 along with the comes note E, Thread 1’s ascent from D to E is slowed. A similar delay occurs in Thread 2 when we imply B in m. 14. This note is actually heard in the dux, but because it is the second rather than the first chord tone it is placed in parentheses. It then takes three measures (mm. 13–15) for Thread 2 to move the single step from B to C#. The vertical interval between each pair of thread notes is an imperfect consonance with the exception of m. 14, which has both a third and a fourth between thread notes. The delay technique here guarantees that the D/F# thread pair arrives at m. 16, exactly where the Goldberg theme dictates that a perfect authentic cadence on the dominant should conclude the second phrase.
The seventh spanned in Thread 1 is easily heard because all of the notes from G to F# are played. In Thread 2, however, there is no note sounded in the initial measure. Figure 19 shows that the omitted first note of Thread 2 (marked with an X notehead) allows the phrase to proceed I–V, rather than straying into an undesired vi–V progression. By a combination of the delay technique (repeating one note in each thread) and omitting the first pitch of Thread 2, Bach is able to rely on threads to structure the second phrase of this variation.
The second half of Variation 6 (mm. 17–32) has threads that are, once again, remarkably similar to those that have structured what has already been heard. In phrases three and four, as in phrases one and two, the harmonic borders of the Goldberg theme are determining factors in Bach’s choice of threads, and in his manipulations of these threads. The third phrase must begin on a V chord and end on a vi chord. Because the threads can ascend at a maximum of one note-name per measure, it would take nine measures for the TIC notes to ascend from two chord tones in the V chord to the same chord tones in the vi chord. For this reason, threads for a progression
from V to vi would seem to be at odds with a theme that mandates an eight-measure phrase. Figure 20 shows the nine-measure ascent from the V chord’s third and fifth to the vi chord’s third and fifth. Unfortunately, there is no way to speed up a thread ascent.
A solution to this problem is suggested by adjusting the chord degrees found in the starting and ending harmonies. Figure 21 shows that this offers the possibility of a seven-measure ascent. The thread notes in the first measure provide the third and the fifth of the dominant chord. The final measure of the ascent now contains the root and third of the submediant. The combination of this adjustment—which I will call a chord-member shift—with the delay technique allows Bach to move from V to vi over the required eight measures.
Figure 22 shows that the threads in the first five measures of phrases one and three are related by second. Therefore, it seems appropriate to point out the close imitation (even if not exactly a canon) between the two halves of the variation. Measure 6 is a pivot for the phrase, as the delay technique causes two of the note-names now to be the same. Only the F# remains a
---
12 The third and fifth of the vi chord are also present in the second measure of the ascent, but this is not anywhere near the length that Bach needs to complete his eight-measure phrase.
second above the corresponding thread note in phrase one. The letter-names are identical for the final two measures. However, phrase three need not omit the final pitch E in Thread 2, because this phrase ends with the submediant. In a sense, the cadence on vi completes the disrupted thread in the first phrase, providing the previously missing pitch.
The composition of the fourth phrase’s canonic frame (mm. 25–32) does not require any new thread techniques. This phrase begins on a ii chord and ends on the tonic; the difference between these chords is an ascending seventh. The delay technique makes this an easy interval between chord roots to accommodate in eight measures. The fourth phrase’s Thread-1 ascent from A to G is nearly the same pitch ascent as is heard in Thread 1 of the third phrase. Both of these threads are arranged on a single staff in Figure 23. They differ from each other in a couple of ways. The accidentals in phrase three prepare a cadence in E minor and are unnecessary in the
**Figure 25.** Bach, *Goldberg Variations*: starting and ending harmonies of each phrase
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Phrase Number</th>
<th>Starting Harmony</th>
<th>Ending Harmony</th>
<th>Harmonic Change from Start to End of Phrase</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>1</td>
<td>I</td>
<td>I</td>
<td>up an octave</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>2</td>
<td>I</td>
<td>V</td>
<td>up a fifth</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>3</td>
<td>V</td>
<td>vi</td>
<td>up a ninth</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>4</td>
<td>ii</td>
<td>I</td>
<td>up a seventh</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
final phrase. In addition, the third phrase’s Thread 1 overlaps two notes during the delay technique.
Figure 24 compares the registral reductions of both threads in phrases three and four (with the Thread 1s of Figure 23 reproduced on the middle staff) with the Thread 2s above and below. The figure reveals a close relationship between the Thread 2s: in the third phrase, Thread 2 (bottom staff) primarily supplies the notes a third under the A–G thread (middle staff), whereas in the fourth phrase, Thread 2 (top staff) primarily supplies the notes a third above the A–G thread. Remarkably, the two phrases are related by invertible counterpoint. The vertical intervals for each phrase are identical.\(^{13}\) The two phrases’ threads are also transpositionally related by a sixth.
---
\(^{13}\) The third at the beginning of phrase three is parenthesized because it is missing from the music. In m. 17, the *comes* has yet to enter.
As we have seen, each of the four phrases in this variation traverses its own harmonic space. Figure 25 lists the harmonic change traversed from the start to end of each phrase as an ascending interval. Given the diverse harmonic contingencies for each phrase, Bach maintains startling consistency in each phrase’s threads. He never strays far from Thread 1 of his first phrase, which ascends the pitches of a G scale. Indeed, Thread 1 of each succeeding phrase seems to embellish the previous one. Figure 26 documents the Thread-1 transformations, abstracted from register and chromaticism. Each phrase’s Thread 1 is itself a variation of the preceding phrase. The complete thread graph is provided in Figure 27.
BRAHMS, VARIATIONS ON A THEME BY SCHUMANN: NO. 14
Variation 14 of Brahms’s Variations on a Theme by Schumann is also a canon at the second; it is presented in Figure 28. The TIC here is two measures, and it coincides with the harmonic rhythm (one chord per two measures). The *dux* of Variation 14 begins with the opening melodic $C\natural$ of Schumann’s theme. As in the Bach canon at the second, the melodic link between the two voices at the opening can be heard very easily. In fact, a performer will have to make a special effort to convey the first thread note $C\natural$ resolving down to $B$ in m. 3, rather than moving up to the second thread note ($D$ in the upper voice).
The third thread note, from the *dux* in m. 5, is an $E\natural$ (the downbeat $F\natural$ is clearly an accented passing tone). Similarly, in m. 7, the *comes* $F\natural$ is the consonant TIC note which extends the thread. Figure 29 shows the first four notes of Thread 1. As at the beginning of Bach’s Variation 6, an initial stepwise ascent is followed by a descending seventh leap. In Brahms’s variation, the leap also prevents the augmented second that would have sounded if $D$ ascended to $E\natural$.
In the *Goldberg Variations*, the threads were closely connected to the phrase structure of the original theme. In Brahms’s variation this relationship also exists, but it is not immediately clear. The A section of Schumann’s theme is an eight-measure modulating period. The four-measure antecedent begins on tonic and ends with an imperfect authentic cadence in the starting key; the consequent begins on tonic and concludes with a perfect authentic cadence in the mediant. Two measures of Brahms’s Variation 14 are equal to one measure of Schumann’s theme. Therefore we would expect the mediant at mm. 15–16. The mediant arrives in the variation one TIC earlier, in mm. 13–14. This discrepancy is a response to a particular difficulty that the Schumann theme poses for a canonic treatment at the second. In the theme, many of the
**FIGURE 28.** Brahms, *Variations on a Theme by Schumann*, op. 9: Variation 14, canon at the second
harmonies that bridge the phrase boundaries are the same. The concluding measure of the antecedent phrase (m. 4 of the theme) sounds the tonic, as does the first measure of the consequent (m. 5 of the theme). The B section begins (m. 9 of the theme) with the same mediant chord that ended the A section (m. 8). In a canon at the second, because the dux is constantly ascending to the following comes by step, it is particularly tricky to present the same harmony twice in a row. This problem is compounded when a stepwise thread is present, meaning that the pitch of the comes typically ascends to the following dux by step.
Brahms handles this difficulty by means of a phrase overlap. The fourth TIC note (mm. 7–8) provides the space both to end the antecedent phrase on the tonic and to initiate the consequent phrase.\footnote{The introduction of the notes A\# and E in the accompaniment, during m. 8 of the variation, propels the F\# chord onward as a major-minor seventh chord and prevents the harmonic closure in m. 7 from overwhelming the restatement of the opening melodic motive.} This solves the dilemma of harmonic repetition in adjacent TICs. The phrase overlap, as shown in Figure 30, condenses the expected sixteen-measure section to fourteen measures. Thread 2 can be extended backwards to m. 1 with A as an endpoint omission. This A, marked with an X notehead, also has an important audible role. The left-hand arpeggiation from mm. 1–2 reaches up to this hypothetical starting pitch for Thread 2. In addition, the last melodic note of the preceding variation sounds this A, as shown in Figure 31.
If Thread 2 ascended each TIC by step, then the *dux*’s note in m. 7 would be D. This pitch would interfere with the necessary arrival of tonic harmony. A new type of delay technique avoids this arrival by slowing the TIC notes in mm. 5–9. Brahms’s variation does not hold a single pitch in the same canonic voice as Bach did in his Variation 6. Instead, a pitch is held between the *comes* and the *dux* one TIC later. Thread 2 has a *comes* C♭ in m. 5 and a *dux* C♭ in m. 7. In Thread 1, an F♯ is held between mm. 7 and 9, again occurring first in the *comes* and then in the *dux*. The delay technique creates the A section’s only perfect consonance between the threads, in m. 7. These TIC-note repetitions prevent m. 5’s C♭ and E♭ from ascending to D and F♯ until m. 9. This is the correct position for these notes, as dictated by the theme’s harmonic progression. Brahms’s delay technique takes advantage of the fact that the *comes* need not be imitated by the *dux* at the interval of the canon. While the *comes-dux* relationship is a vital feature of canonic threads, the delay technique can momentarily suspend this relationship by repeating a pitch without disrupting the thread.
In the Schumann theme, the B section begins on III, which is the same chord that ends the A section. Again we would expect a phrase overlap to bind the sections and this is indeed the case. The mediant arrival in mm. 13–14 serves two functions. The *dux* marks the initiating function of m. 13 by returning to the familiar C♯–D–C♯ motive which opened both phrase segments of the A section. As a result, Brahms leaves m. 11’s upper-register, leading-tone G♯ unresolved.
Figure 32 presents a thread graph for the entire variation. The vertical intervals between the B section’s thread notes are striking because, other than in m. 13, they are all fourths. One
---
15 This open fifth was also found in the right hand at the parallel point in the theme (m. 5).
16 The double bar in the score indicates the beginning of the B section, rather than the conclusion of the A section.
might expect the B section’s parallel first-inversion chords to continue in mm. 19 and 21 with first-inversion B and C♯ chords, respectively. A number of compositional considerations stand in the way of this simple path. Although the theme’s B section cadences on a C♯-minor chord, if Variation 14 moves to a C♯-minor chord through a series of parallel first-inversion chords, there will be no cadence. Altering the final harmony to major permits a half cadence to end the section only if the chord is in root position. The stepwise thread pattern begun in m. 13 would lead to a G♯ dux note in m. 21. However, the dux part rests for mm. 21–22, which is the first time that it does not sound a note for an entire TIC. This endpoint omission is not the result of a note disruptive to the desired harmony; G♯ is a chord tone within the C♯ chord. However, the rest is required to prevent an undesired doubling when the G♯ is imitated by the comes voice. If the B section ends with a G♯ in the dux, an upper-voice, comes A♯ will follow at the beginning of the A’ section. Given that the A’ section begins with the distinctive vii9/iv chord found in the theme, the bass will sound an A♯. This note is a tendency tone, and is best avoided by the comes. The
---
17 A first-inversion C♯-major chord also would not work, because it would create an augmented second from D to E♯ in the bass. Remarkably, the root-position C♯ chord allows the C♯–D–C♯ motive that opened the dux to be heard in the bass at the end of the B section: C♯ in m. 17, D in m. 19, and C♯ in m. 21.
theme’s harmonic contingencies demand that the A#-thread note escapes into the accompanying voice (marked “A” in m. 23 of Figure 32) rather than sounding in the dux or comes. The endpoint omission of G in the preceding TIC prevents this A# doubling, and also clears the texture so that the dux alone can begin the A’ section, much as it had begun the previous A section.
The Thread-2 note at m. 13 deserves more attention. Originally, when considering just the A section, the TIC note was simply E. While this E was the first chord tone in the TIC, it was not heard in a parallel location to the dux’s previous TIC note. In m. 11’s dux, the first chord tone is on the downbeat (an E), whereas in m. 13’s comes, the first chord tone is not heard until the third beat. The downbeat F in m. 13 is not a chord tone, but it attains an organizational presence in the thread because it is parallel to m. 11’s thread note; and while it is not a chord tone, it connects the thread notes from the A and B section so that they proceed seamlessly by step. For this reason, Figure 32 provides both E and F for m. 13’s Thread-2 note. The F is stemmed because of its linking role. The leftward pointing arrow from the unstemmed E indicates that it refers back to the A section.
In the A’ section, the presence of a thread depends on choosing notes that are not the usual first chord tones of the TIC. Admittedly, there is a bit of circular reasoning, in that a thread note is chosen in these cases because it belongs to an expected thread. However, the TIC note is once again consonant with the bass, and the atypical choice is based on the desire to maintain a parallel note choice for a dux and its imitating comes. In m. 25, the downbeat suspension resolves to the TIC-note B (a chord tone) on the third beat. When this figure is transposed to the comes in m. 27, we would expect the downbeat D to also be a suspension, and to resolve to C#. But D is, in fact, the chord tone—a member of an E major-minor seventh chord—whereas C# is not. Nonetheless, the clear parallelism between these TICs, as well as the expected stepwise
progression (given the previously established thread), makes C# the controlling TIC note. In addition, C# is consonant above the bass E, even though it is not a chord tone.
The registral reduction in Figure 33 makes Thread 2’s continuous ascent very clear, as well as the predominance of vertical thirds between threads in the A and A’ section, and the continuous fourths in the B section. There is only a single break to Thread 1, occurring before m. 13. The lack of resolution of the leading-tone G₃ in m. 11 is intriguing, and no G₃ moves to A in either thread until the very end of the variation.
In the A’ section, six TICs are exactly the amount of time that it takes to ascend from the root and third of the first chord (A₃⁷) to the root and third of the final chord (F♯ minor). The canonic voices for the A’ section feature an ascending thread that is very audible. Figure 34
shows the canonic voices with the thread notes circled. The *comes* A♯ in m. 23 and the *dux* F♯ in m. 34 (both parenthesized) are not actually heard in the canonic voices, but they are notes that are consonant with the bass and that extend the stepwise threads to the endpoints of the phrase. Unlike the threads of the A section, no delay technique is employed here. As a result, the ascent in the A' section finishes what the A section did not, resolving the G♯ and ascending all the way to the note A.
Although the threads support the chords at the beginning and end of the section, the six TICs (with basically one harmony per TIC) do not provide enough time for the eight-chord progression of Schumann’s theme. We have seen that in the variation’s A section, Brahms squeezed the eight chords of the theme into seven TICs by overlapping the end of the antecedent phrase with the beginning of the consequent phrase (both with tonic chords). In the A' section, overlap is not possible because the theme’s antecedent ends on III, and the consequent begins on I. This is one factor that probably leads Brahms to treat the A' section of Variation 14 more radically than the A section. By shortening the third phrase to six TICs, Brahms follows the same principle as Bach did in the first phrase of the Goldberg variation at the second: he ascends one step per TIC while emphasizing that the beginning and ending harmonies of the A' section of Schumann’s theme have chord roots a sixth apart (A♯ to F♯).
The shortening of the A' section and the absence of thread interruptions (*inter alia*) prevent the section from being heard as divided into two clear phrases, as in the theme. However, it is remarkable that—with only one exception—the A' section’s thread notes in Variation 14 are members of each of the harmonies in the corresponding section of Schumann’s theme (mm. 17–24). Figure 35 displays this overall agreement between the theme’s harmonies (listed above the staff) and the thread notes (on the staff). The one chord that cannot be supported by the thread
notes is the theme’s tonic chord of m. 21 (circled in the figure). Therefore, this harmony must be left out at this point of the canonic variation. The accompanying voice of Variation 14 mediates as well as it can between the thread notes and the theme’s harmonies. There is a sense that the accompaniment tries to maintain a semblance of the theme’s harmonic goals, sometimes despite the exigencies of the ascending harmonic threads. But the lack of support for the tonic chord midway through the A’ section forces Brahms to abandon other elements of the theme’s harmonic progression. During this delicate compositional balancing act, neither the thread nor the harmony gains complete control.
In Figure 35, the bottom line of Roman numerals and figured bass provides the actual chords arpeggiated by the accompanying voice in the third phrase of the variation. The first two chords agree with the chords suggested by the thread, and the chords in the theme. In contrast, the accompaniment of Variation 14’s m. 27 (the third TIC of the phrase) presents a striking discordance between these features. The accompaniment presents a V/III chord. This is the same harmony that occurs three chords into this section of Schumann’s theme (m. 19). However, the thread notes above this accompaniment include a C♯, which suggests III instead of V/III. The difference between thread notes and actual chords can be thought of as a peculiar sort of elision, required because the number of chords in the theme’s third phrase is more than the number of
\[
\begin{array}{cccccccc}
\text{Measure: } & 17 & 18 & 19 & 20 & 21 & 22 & 23 & 24 \\
\text{Chord: } & vii^9/iv & iv & V/III & III & I & iv & V^7 & i \\
\end{array}
\]
\[
\begin{array}{cccccccc}
\text{Var. 14, } & & & & & & & & \\
\text{A' Section's Threads} & & & & & & & & \\
\text{Var. 14} & & & & & & & & \\
\text{Measure: } & 23 & 25 & 27 & 29 & 31 & 33 \\
\text{Chord: } & vii^9/iv & iv & V/III & ii^7 \text{ and } V^7 & V^7 & i \\
\end{array}
\]
TICs that Brahms allows himself in this variation canon. At one level, of course, the C in m. 27 is a passing tone between the downbeat D and the next measure’s B. However, by focusing entirely on the chords suggested by the accompaniment, and ignoring the contradictory notes of the thread, one misses an important aspect of how the canonic voices fit with the theme, and how the theme’s harmonies are expressed in subtle ways.
There is some discordance between the elements of m. 29 in Variation 14, but it is not nearly as radical as what was just discussed in m. 27. In m. 29, the accompaniment begins with ii7, as opposed to the iv6 that the theme and other variations have accustomed the listener to hear prior to the dominant. In mm. 31 and 33 of the variation, the thread notes, the variation’s harmony, and the theme’s harmony realign, first on the dominant and then the tonic. As if to emphasize this concordance of factors, the accompanying voice reaches over the comes in order to supply the missing Thread-1 note, F, in m. 33.
BACH, GOLDBERG VARIATIONS: NO. 9
Bach’s ninth Goldberg variation (reproduced in Figure 36) is a canon at the descending third. Each half of the variation is eight measures, rather than the usual sixteen. As a result, one measure of the variation represents two measures of the theme. The TIC is one measure. There are two threads over the first eight measures, but I will discuss only Thread 1 here. Figure 37 shows the Thread-1 notes in a registral reduction. The delay technique slows the progress of the descending third chain at mm. 2–3.
The first eight measures of Variation 9 (which correspond to the first sixteen measures of the theme) must move from tonic to dominant. If there were no delay, the chain of thirds would end on B in m. 8. Obviously, the D that occurs as a result of the delay fits better with the dominant chord required at the midpoint of the variation. The first two staves of Figure 38 align
**FIGURE 36.** Bach, *Goldberg Variations*, Variation 9: canon at the third
Thread 1 with the Goldberg theme’s bass line. Each quarter note in the figure corresponds to one measure of the score. The delay allows the first three thread notes to be consonant with the expected bass at the beginning of each TIC (notes 1, 3, and 5 in the bass-line theme). If the thread had descended to E at TIC 3, it would have been dissonant against an expected B in the bass.
Although this thinking may have entered into an early stage of this variation’s compositional planning, it is the structure of the descending-third thread, not the bass-line theme, that is prioritized. The arrows between the second and third staves of Figure 38 show how the accompanying bass voice skews the expected bass-line theme. The first two bass notes are G and F♯, as expected; but after that point, both the rhythm and ordering of the second stave’s notes are sacrificed. The numbers labeling each arrow show where the theme’s notes appear in the variation’s bass line (bottom staff).
FIGURE 39. Brahms, Variations on a Theme by Schumann, op. 9: Variation 15, canon at the sixth
FIGURE 39. [continuation]
FIGURE 39. [continuation]
Variation 15 of Brahms’s *Variations on a Theme by Schumann* (given as Figure 39) is a canon at the twentieth below. For the present discussion, it will be treated as a canon at the sixth below (in inversion, a third above). The dux of Variation 15 is divided into three eight-measure canonic phrases that correspond to the ternary-form sections. Figure 40 graphs the Thread-1 notes of the A section. The relationship between these notes cannot be explained entirely by descending sixths/ascending thirds, although this interval is common, occurring between all *dux-comes* pairs, and between the m. 4 *comes* and m. 5 *dux* (i.e., in one of three instances of a *comes-dux* interval). Figure 41 provides a registral reduction of Figure 40’s pitches, on a single staff. This arrangement of notes makes it clear that there is an organizational principle controlling the thread notes of the A section, but the organization is not that of TIC notes related by a single interval. Specifically, an arpeggiation controls the TIC notes of this phrase.
An arpeggiated thread needs to be manipulated in order to come out on the same note after eight TICs. Arpeggiating a triad through two octaves requires seven TICs and arpeggiating a seventh chord the same distance requires nine TICs as shown in Figure 42a and b respectively. Brahms’s arpeggiated thread lasts exactly eight measures because the first octave arpeggiates a triad and the second octave arpeggiates a seventh chord. The insertion of the seventh in m. 6 accomplishes the same result as the delay technique of repeating a note, but for an arpeggiation. I will call this the *inserted-seventh delay*.
As in the other canons, Variation 15 has a second thread that interacts with Thread 1. Both A-section threads are shown in Figure 43, in a registral reduction. The delay techniques are marked with slurs. Thread 2 is an arpeggiation through the G♭-major triad. An implied G♭ is
---
18 A final pair of non-canonic measures concludes the variation.
shown in m. 1, as the obvious extension of the pattern that follows. A low G\(_b\) (F\(\sharp\)) concludes the preceding variation, so the note is nearby, as also was the case when Variation 14’s Thread 2 opened with an implied A (see again Figures 30 and 31). Thread 2 does not have an inserted-seventh delay to extend the arpeggiation by a measure. Instead it uses the familiar repeated-note delay technique in mm. 5–6.
Despite slight harmonic movement in the first phrase, one senses a wash of $G_b$ triads throughout the passage. The identities of non-$G_b$ chords are not nearly as important in themselves as is their leading quickly back to new $G_b$ chords. Instead of hearing the second-inversion chords of mm. 2 and 3 as resolving to a more structural root-position chord in the second half of m. 3, the listener has more of a sense that the tonic second-inversion chord slips into a tonic first-inversion chord in m. 4. The $V^7/V$, even though it is prominently placed at the end of the antecedent phrase (m. 4, beats 4–6), does not assert itself much more than as a neighbor chord to the surrounding first-inversion tonic harmonies. The thread notes’ insistence on the $G_b$-major harmony overwhelms the other chords of the passage.
A fascinating aspect of this variation is that the opening notes seem to be generated from the arpeggiation thread (or perhaps vice-versa). Figure 44 aligns the notes of m. 1’s first three beats below Thread 1 of the first phrase. The opening notes nearly perfectly trace the Thread-1 notes. The only Thread-1 note omitted from these opening beats is the inserted seventh, $F_b$. There was a similar relation between thread and keyboard figuration in Variation 8 (see again Figure 12), but there the figuration of the comes—as opposed to the figuration of the accompanying voice—was involved.
The B section’s two threads are shown in Figure 45. As in the first phrase, they both are based on an arpeggiated thread. The arpeggiation of the second phrase has B♭ as a root. Given Schumann’s theme, one expects the second phrase to emphasize the mediant; what is surprising here is that the B♭ supports a major-minor seventh chord, rather than a plain minor triad. Therefore, threads in both the A and B sections arpeggiate major-minor seventh chords. As with the A section, the thread structure of the B section is closely anticipated in the accompanying voice of the first three beats of the phrase. Figure 46 demonstrates this relationship.
The vertical intervals between thread notes in mm. 15 and 16 are seconds. After the consecutive thirds of mm. 10–14, these seconds are quite striking, as is the disruption of the B♭ seventh-chord thread by the note E♭ in m. 16. These features are all integral to the transition from the B section to the A' section by a circle-of-fifths progression. Figure 47 shows the thread notes of mm. 15–18 in their correct register. The duxB notes are reproduced on the upper staff and the comes notes on the lower staff. The threads are shown by the diagonal lines: Thread-1 notes are connected by solid lines, and Thread-2 notes are connected by dashed lines. The thread notes in mm. 15 and 16 are all members of the accompaniment’s chords; these notes offer the root and seventh of the III and VI chords. Because the chordal seventh is in the bass for each measure, both chords are in third inversion.¹⁹
¹⁹ Brahms makes a few significant changes to canonic notes that are not thread notes during mm. 15 and 16, in order to simplify the voice leading and preserve a circle-of-fifths progression. In m. 15, the comes leap is an augmented fourth (A♭ to D♭). In m. 14, however, the dux leap was a diminished fifth (F to C♭), not an augmented fourth. The change in the comes (i.e., spelling the second note of the leap as D♭, not E♭) stresses the lowering of the third in the B♭ chord (D♭ to D♭). In m. 16, a more drastic change is made in the comes part. The comes leaps down a diminished fifth (D♭ to G♭), instead of a fourth as the dux part does in m. 15 (B♭ to F). The G in the comes of m. 16 fits the desired E♭ harmony, whereas the strictly imitative A♭ would not belong to the chord.
The Schumann theme and its canonic variations have reinforced the fact that the opening of the A' section tends to stray from—rather than embrace—the tonic. Therefore, it is a surprise that the thread notes in m. 17 of Figure 47 are G₆ and B₆, the root and third of the tonic chord. It is particularly curious to find that the root of the tonic chord opens the section, because even the A section of this variation did not open with a root-position tonic harmony. The only reason one might expect to find the G₆/B₆ thread pair is that the arpeggiated threads of the A section also began with these notes (although an important difference there is that the G₆ was implied).
The tonic implications of the thread at m. 17 are not matched by the accompanying voice, however, creating one of the most expressive moments of the work. The arpeggiation in m. 17 is of a II⁷ chord. The supertonic seventh chord includes only one of the thread notes, G₆, as a chord tone (the seventh). The B₆, despite its consonance with the bass G₆, has only a tenuous relation to the A₆ chord (as its ninth). It is more meaningful to regard the B₆ as an anticipation of the harmony of the following measure, than to consider the B₆ as a chordal ninth. The anticipa-
---
20 Only Variations 6 and 13, both non-canonic, reprise the material from the first theme over a tonic harmony.
21 The closest low G₆ is found as an F# in the preceding variation.
22 Brahms also used a ii⁷ chord at approximately the same point in the form in Variation 14 (m. 14).
tion label is particularly compelling given that in this variation, the *comes*, and not the *dux*, presents the closest approximation of the Schumann theme. Given that the key is now G₉ major rather than F♯ minor, the *comes* melody begins on D♭ rather than the typical C♯. One has the disorienting sense that the *dux* of Variation 15 is an anticipation, not just to the *comes* but to Schumann’s original theme.
Apart from the harmony of m. 17, the A’ section (mm. 17–24) is nearly identical to the A section (mm. 1–8). The arpeggiated thread on a G♭ triad returns with a single insertion of the chord’s seventh, F♭. Surprisingly, all of the insistence on G♭ in the thread notes does not translate into a “strong” root-position tonic chord. In this sense, m. 17 is a microcosm of the lack of union between thread notes and harmonies. A “strong” root-position tonic only arrives outside the bounds of Variation 15’s canon, in the non-canonic last measure (m. 26). The G♭ chord is not prepared by a cadence, however. Instead, the music seems to give up on achieving a strong cadence in the final three measures, leaving the tonic harmony to materialize following a common-tone diminished seventh chord.
Figure 48 arranges the threads of all three sections together. The barlines show where the *dux* begins each section. The threads arpeggiate the tonic and mediant chords as shown beneath the staves. The only note that does not belong in one of the arpeggiations is the E♭ at the end of
the second phrase. Canonic threads play a crucial role in the transformation of Schumann’s theme into Brahms’s canonic variation.
It is particularly interesting that both variation sets discussed in this article present a compendium of canonic threads, rather than one or two isolated examples. Bach’s set methodically presents threads organized by four different intervals, grouped between Variations 6 and 11, as shown in Figure 7. Given that the interval of the canon is so closely tied to the thread organization, it is not surprising that the canon at the second (Variation 6) has an ascending stepwise thread, and the canon at the third (Variation 9) has a thread by descending thirds. We might expect to find threads at the fourth and fifth in the canons at the fourth and fifth (Variations 12 and 15, respectively). Surprisingly, Variation 11—which is not one of the canonic variations per se, but which does include two slightly veiled canonic passages (mm. 1–4 and 5–8)—presents an ascending-fourth thread and descending-fifth thread, whereas Variations 12 and 15, which are each inversion canons, have no threads.
The intervals that organize the threads in Brahms’s set also increase throughout the set. Rather than start with a stepwise thread, Brahms’s first canon has a repeated-note thread. The next thread in the set is by ascending second (Variation 14). Instead of following this with a thread organized simply by thirds, Variation 15 is a tour-de-force that organizes the threads by arpeggiations. We find a methodical progression of thread practices in Brahms’s set that equals the one found in the Goldberg Variations.
Threads are a critical tool in the analysis of canons, providing a relatively straightforward foundation based on familiar musical phenomena, such as repeated notes or scalar passages. Although they follow a simple premise, threads defy many norms about how notes are
connected. Consecutive thread notes leap from voice to voice, often from one register to another. They can skip over one or more measures of intervening notes, and at times they flout traditional voice leading. For all of these reasons, we should not expect to hear canonic threads the way we would hear other musical lines. This can be uncomfortable, given our usual preference for musical ideas that can be heard in accepted ways. But these variations provide evidence that our understanding of musical direction and musical possibility can also benefit from looking outside of our traditional approaches.
**ABSTRACT**
This article introduces the concept of *canonic threads*: patterns made of alternating *dux* and *comes* notes, in which the notes are separated by the time interval of the canon. Canonic threads are developed using as focus pieces Bach’s *Goldberg Variations* and Brahms’s *Variations on a Theme by Schumann*, op. 9. Both sets present a compendium of canonic threads, and demonstrate how threads can integrate a theme’s harmonic and phrase-structural constraints into a variation with strict canonic form. The article also considers various techniques that allow an underlying template of canonic threads to function over a wide range of harmonic and metric possibilities.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alan Gosman is Associate Professor of Music Theory at the University of Michigan School of Music, Theatre & Dance. His publications have ranged from the Beethoven sketchbooks, to contrapuntal techniques, canons, and the history of theory. He is coauthor with Lewis Lockwood of the book *Beethoven’s “Eroica” Sketchbook: A Critical Edition*, which will be published by University of Illinois Press in early 2013.
This article uploaded to the Gamut site on 8 August 2012. |
Detecting of forgery of an Aivazovsky's oil painting
Dr. Moustafa Attia •
Abstract:
Historical and antique oil paintings have been plagued with the threat of forgeries for a long time. The nature of art lends itself to forgery as a skilled and determined forger can mimic the techniques and styles of an artist to a level where even an expert can be duped. This research includes the examination and analysis of an oil painting signed with the name of the Russian painter Ivan Aivazovsky to detect if it is original or just a professionally forged replica of the painting. The researcher used the following techniques: visual inspection; comparing the painting style and brush strokes of the painting to other paintings carried out by the same painter; and studying the signature on this painting compared to the ones on other paintings for Ivan Aivazovsky. Anachronism technique was also used to detect forgery of the painting, and this technique involved employing both XRD and EDAX. Fourier transform infrared (FTIR) was used to identify the binder of the ground layer and the varnish layer. The paint layer was examined using a microscope and the images were recorded on both black-and-white and color films. Microscopic examination was used in studying the different forms of decay found on the painting to detect if they were deliberately made for forgery purpose. The cohesion of the paint layer and the impact of ethyl alcohol on it, were also studied. The results of the study proved that the painting was not painted by the famous Russian painter Ivan Aivazovsky and that the signature is forged by a professional, skillful forger. The forger’s attempt to give the painting an antique look was extreme and illogical; this was the first indication that the painting
• Faculty of archaeology Director of Verifying of Authenticity Lab.
is forged. He also made the mistake of using pigments which were manufactured and used more than 30 years after the death of the Russian painter. The date of the painting under study was found to be in the period from 1950 to 1960, which is more than 50 years after the original painter’s death.
**KEYWORDS:** Detecting; forgery; Aivazovsky; an oil painting; examination and analysis; the signature; titanium white “rutile”
Ivan Aivazovsky
في هذه الدراسة، تم فحص وتحليل لوحة زيتية موقعة باسم الفنان الروسي Aivazovsky للتحقق مما إذا كانت هذه اللوحة أصلية، أو تنساب فعلا إلى هذا الفنان الروس المشهور، أم هي لوحة مزورة تزويرا متقدنا. وقد تم استخدام عدة طرق للفحص والتحليل منها الفحص المنطقي، دراسة مقارنة بين أسلوب وتقنية وضروب الفرشاة في هذه اللوحة وبين مثيلاتها في لوحات أخرى أصلية معروفة لهذا الفنان، دراسة تشريحية مقارنة لتوقيع الفنان في هذه اللوحة وبين مثيلاتها في لوحات أخرى أصلية موقعة بيد الفنان، استخدام طرقية Anachronism باستخدام تقنية التشاير النطاقية للأشعة، وحبو الأشعة الدينية، تحليل المادة الرابطة للأرضية التصوير، وتحليل طبقة السيرنيش باستخدام طريقة FTIR الميكروسكوبية لدراسة طبقة اللون باستخدام أفلام أبيض x أسود، وأفلام ملونة، ودراسة مظاهر التلف الموجودة سواء على سطح اللوحة أو خلفيتها، والتتأكد ما إذا كانت هذه المظاهر دقيقة أم مزورة، إن نفدها الفنان المزور، وكذلك دراسة تشبيك طبقة اللون، والمدى تأثرها بالكحول الآثري الأول. وقد أثبت الكثير من هذه الفحوصات والتحليل أن هذه اللوحة مزورة ولا تنسب إلى الفنان الروسي Ivan Aivazovsky المشهور، كما أن المزور محترف وماهر، ولكن ذكاه، ومحاولة إعطاء اللوحة التقادم المبالغ فيه، وإحداث الكثير من مظاهر التلف غير المنطقي الذي ساعد في كشف تزوير هذه اللوحة، بالإضافة إلى استخدامه مواد ملونة صنعت واستخدمت بعد وفاة الفنان الأصلي بعشرات السنين، كما استطاع الباحث أيضا تأريخ اللوحة إلى الفترة ما بين 1950-1960، أي بعد وفاة الفنان الأصلي بأكثر من خمسين عاما.
INTRODUCTION
Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky (1817-1900) was born in the town of Feodosia, Crimea (Russian Empire) to a poor Armenian family. Aivazovsky became a famous Russian painter and, having arranged more than one hundred exhibitions in many European and American cities, brought great fame to Russian art. During the period of 1840-1844, Aivazovsky, as a pensioner of the Academy of Arts, spent time in Italy; he also traveled to Germany, France, Spain, and Holland. He painted a lot of marine landscapes, which The Bay of Naples by Moonlight became very popular in Italy: (1844). Malta, and Valetto Harbour (1843), Seashore Calm (1842), , a prominent J.W.M. Turner His works were highly appreciated by English landscape and marine painter.
picture The Black Sea The artist's greatest achievement is (1881), which is showing the nature of the sea, eternally alive, The always in motion. Other important pictures of the late years are (1876). Aivazovsky left more than Shipwreck (1873) and Rainbow 6000 pictures which are of very different value. He was a member of Academies of Stuttgart, Florence, Rome and Amsterdam. Aivazovsky died on the 19th of April 1900 leaving an unfinished picture he had begun that same day. Whatever lies ahead for Russian art there is no doubt that the creative legacy of Aivazovsky will always be a treasured part of its history.
Art forgery has existed as long as there have been valuable and admired works of art to forge. By studying the techniques and styles of an artist, a skilled, determined forger can produce a copy that is extremely difficult to distinguish from an original. To make matters worse, the authentication of artwork is a subjective process relying
---
1 Tafacamoba, T.H.C., NBAH KOHSTAHTNHOBNY, AÑBA3OBCKNÑ, N3AAATEABCTBO NCKYCDCCTBO, MockBa, 1965.
2 WWW.abcgallery.com.
3 www.agniart.ru.
heavily on the knowledge and experience of the art expert charged with the task. In addition, as technology and knowledge increases, and becomes more available to the criminal fraternity, the ability to differentiate between the original authentic work and a forgery becomes increasingly difficult.\textsuperscript{4} Nineteenth-century Russian paintings were much favoured by the new rich after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Ivan Aivazovsky and other 19th-century landscape and seascape painters are currently the most forged.
The Russian art market is standing up to a wave of reports concerning criminal activity in the Russian art world. Dr Vladimir Petrov of the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow claimed that he had uncovered 120 Russian art fakes on the market in five months. Denis Lukashin, a Russian art consultant, has said that "as many as 70 percent" of Russian paintings in Russian art collections formed over the past two years are fakes. To get an idea of the growth rate of this steamroller of a market, the global figure for specialized Russian art sales in London and New York in 2000 was £7.6 million. However, there was discrimination at work.\textsuperscript{5}
The embassy of Georgia in Cairo houses an oil painting signed by the Russian artist Aivazovsky; this painting reflects the unique painting style of the artist. The main theme of the painting is the theme of raging sea and huge waves Aivazovsky. This research aims at revealing whether this painting is original or fake. Several inspection and analysis methods were used for that purpose. Additionally, the technique used to build up the layer structure of the painting was accurately studied, a measure that helps very much in the detection of forgery. A survey on paintings of similar themes was made as well to locate originals of
\textsuperscript{5} WWW.moodbook.com.
the same theme; also to find out if the forger combined different themes to produce this piece of work, a technique favored by many forgers. In this technique, the forger would copy the painter’s style and signature and then subjects his work to accelerated aging procedures.
MATERIALS AND METHODS
The surface of the painting, texture of the paint layer, and the direction of brush strokes were studied through comparing the painting with an original painting for Ivan Aivazovsky. The damage forms found on the paint layer and on the back of the painting were accurately studied to detect whether it is original or made on purpose to reflect the antique appearance. Handwriting analysis was performed wherein the painter’s signature was subjected to comparison with a reference signature. This study was carried using a Stereo Microscope Type Stemi DR 1663 Zeiss and a Canon camera (Canon, USA, Inc.). The images were recorded on a Kodak 200 black & white film (Eastman Kodak Company, NY). Additionally, several macro-images were taken with a Nikon coolpix 4500 digital camera. The cross section technique was carried out using the same stereo microscope.
Pigment materials of the paint layer and ground layer used in the painting have been sampled for laboratory analyses to determine their composition. Both XRD and SEM-EDAX analyses were used to detect the compounds and elements present in the pigments of the painting. X-ray diffraction (XRD) was performed on powder samples of the pigment materials, using a Philips (PW1840) diffractometer with Ni-filtered Cu-Kα radiation. The samples were scanned over the 5-70° 2θ intervals, at a scanning speed of 1.2° min⁻¹. A quantitative estimate of the abundance of the mineral phases was derived from the XRD data, using the intensity of certain reflections and external standard mixtures of minerals compared to
the JCPDS standards of 1967, the detection limits of the method were ±1 w/w %. SEM-EDAX analysis was performed using a Fei company device (version quanta 200), with specifications of: Kv: 24.98; tilt (0.00); take-off: (36.47); ampt (35.0); detector type (SUTW-sapphire); resolution (129.87). Moreover, FTIR technique was employed to identify the resin used for the varnish layer and the binder used in the paint ground.
UV radiation was helpful in examining the pigments used in the paint layer and for the signature. This technique proved to be valuable in determining whether the pigments were all applied at the same time or not. It was also used to locate the position of the signature, whether it is above or below the varnish layer.
The effect of ethyl alcohol on a new paint layer is quite different than its effect on antique paint layers; and therefore ethyl alcohol 93% was used to differentiate between the two layers. Finally, a survey was made to determine whether the painting is officially registered under the name of the Russian painter. Similar paintings for Ivan Aivazovsky were studied to detect whether the forger cloned an original painting, used the main theme of an original, or combined the themes of several paintings to produce a new theme or topic and then forged the painter’s signature.
Results and discussion
Deterioration phenomena
The surface of the painting, the texture of the paint layer, and the direction of the brush strokes were examined using a stereomicroscope to determine whether the forms of damage found are due to natural aging or artificial aging done on purpose by the forger. A forger would have to paint in the manner of the artist he is imitating, through all stages of the creative process. He would have
to use the same materials, the same tools, in the same order and most of all he would have to work with the same decision and fluency.\(^6\) Macro photographs were taken using a digital camera under normal light condition, ultraviolet radiation, and infrared radiation. Images were also recorded on color and black-and-white films. During the inspection of the sky region, cracks were found over brush strokes (Fig. 2); however, they are not similar to the cracks commonly found in oil paintings. These cracks appear as regular and parallel lines that pass across the brush strokes in a uniform pattern; and this form of damage is a compression in the paint layer made only by a special not pointed tool while the paint layer is partially soft and not totally dry (Fig. 3).
Similar cracks have been made in another area of the sky region and then a layer of thin paint layer was applied on top; and therefore, under this upper layer appears artificial cracks (Fig. 4). This form of damage can never occur naturally and can only be done using special tools known to forgers. In real cases, cracking which occurs in lower paint layers causes an evident separation in the lower paint layer and also in the upper paint layers currently or in the future. Thus this hollow elongated compression in the paint layer is artificially made; the forger would then fill the hollow part with final brush strokes (Fig. 5).
The varnish layer was also found to fill the elongated compressions in the paint layer, and this is a valuable indication that these cracks were made before applying the varnish on the painting. (Fig. 6) shows further evidence that this form of damage has been made after applying the paint layers and before applying the varnish layer. In real cases, cracks appear in the paint layer and varnish layer as local or overall vertical separation; and sometimes the color of the ground layer and the support are noticeable under these
cracks. (Fig. 7) shows the natural cracks on an original oil painting to differentiate between the naturally occurring cracks or craquelure and the artificial cracks made on purpose by the forger, as is the case in the painting under study.
These artificial cracks can only be realized with using different examination methods (i.e. stereomicroscope); inspection with the naked eye reflects the high forgery skills of forger (Fig. 8).
As for the signature area, is it possible that the artist signed the painting in the presence of forms such as peeling or scratching of the paint layer, there are abrasions in the form of compressions and the remains of the scratched color are accumulated at the end of the compression. The shape of the abrasion indicates that it was done while the paint layer was still soft and not totally dry. There is also a wide crack that runs parallel to the accumulated color, it even starts and ends with the accumulated color (Fig. 9).
The letters of the signatures cover this wide crack, the remains of the scratched color, and the smooth paint layer that appeared after the scratching process (Fig. 10). The sharp tool used for the scratching process has caused the lower paint layer to become smooth. After being scratched, the lower paint layer became the upper paint layer and this is the layer where the signature was made. Due to the smoothness of this layer, the letters fell off and only some remains are present (Fig. 11). Also present on the surface of the painting is a form known as flaking (Fig. 12). This aspect has affected the paint layer, the ground layer, and the wood support. Flaking of the wood support is not natural since attempts to obtain this aspect would result in multiple dents that appear as flaking, but it’s not the natural flaking found in oil paintings and that is the case in this painting. Therefore, this aspect is an evidence of the forger’s attempt to give the painting an antique appearance.
Moreover, a thick layer of paste on the back of the painting and then numerous regular and uniform cracks were made. Several abrasions were also made in different areas. For further deception, a piece of paper was glued to the paste layer (Fig. 13) and then paint was applied on top (Fig. 14), after framing the painting in a valuable frame (Fig. 15). X-ray diffraction analysis has revealed that the color used to paint the back of the painting is raw umber. Raw umber gives wood a tone that is similar to old dark wood. This color tone has been commonly used for this purpose. After removing the painting from the frame, it was observed that forger had forgotten to paint some areas of the sides of the painting and the light color of the wood indicates that the wood was cut very recently, not more than 100 years but much less.
**Comparing signatures**
A signature is a result of an instant message from the human brain which orders the hand to write according to the specific path that the brain is accustomed to perceive. Accordingly, the hand is accustomed to follow that path. In order to identify the characteristics of the forged signature, one must first know the characteristics of the original signature. If the original characteristics do not match those of the examined signature, then in that case one should suspect that the signature is not original. Signatures were generally forged very carefully, so carefully in fact that they deceived several experts.
One of the most important characteristics of original signatures is “flow” as there is no reason to hesitate or stop during the flow of the brush during the signing process. Furthermore, original strokes are done with confidence (Fig. 16). On the other hand, the strokes done by a forger, who is more concentrated on imitating the
---
signature but at the same time fears from making mistakes, are not
smoothly done. (Fig. 17) shows that the signature in the painting
under study is not smooth as there is some sort of zigzagging in the
letters.
The examination of the signature of the Russian artist in his
original paintings also revealed that he signed the paintings with a
brush (Fig. 18). On the other hand, the signature found on the
painting under study was not done by brush. The colors were first
mixed on a palette; and then using some sort of tool may be a
palette knife or even a brush, the colors were applied without
touching the surface of the painting with the tool. The tool carrying
the paint was dragged along the letters allowing the paint to fall in
place without touching the surface with the tool. This technique has
resulted in unsmooth writing due to the shivering of the artist’s
hand, particularly in the letters with straight lines such as the letter
“A” (Fig. 19). The dragging technique also led to poor adherence of
the signature to the paint layer (Fig. 20), despite the roughness of
the surface which makes any pigment adhere easily to it.
The hand path of some letters in the signature under study and
the hand path of the same letters in original signatures either found
on original paintings or in the Dictionary of International Artist,
were compared. The result of this study revealed that in the
original signature the two side lines that form the letter “A” were
done using a brush in one continuous move without lifting the brush
away until both sides were done. The two side lines are connected
in the upper meeting point. The horizontal line that completes the
letter “A” starts from the right side line and ends at the left side line
in a smooth and natural way. This horizontal line overlaps both the
right and left side lines in most original paintings, and in some
---
8 Bénézit, E., Dictionnaire Critique et Documentaire Des Peintres Sculpteurs Dessinateurs Et
Graveurs des tout les temps et de tous les pays par un groupe d'écrivains spécialistes français et
étrangers, TOMÉ I, GRÜND, 1999, P. 126.
cases the horizontal line is found to cross outside the two side lines as is the case in the Russian artist’s official signature which is found in the Dictionary of International Artists (Fig. 21).
After examining the signature on the painting under study, it was found that the two side lines of the letter “A” are not connected (Fig. 22). This separation indicates that they were not done in one continuous movement and that the artist stopped in between. As for the horizontal line of the letter “A”, it clearly shows the hesitation of the artist. It also confirms that the method of application used is the dragging method as the shivering hand stopped at the left side line for a period during the dragging of the color to write the horizontal line of the letter. Consequently, this has caused the accumulation of the paint in the middle of the left side line as is apparent through microscopic inspection (Fig. 23).
It was also observed that the artist was unable to complete the horizontal line but he stopped before reaching the right side line. The microscopic examination revealed the presence of two uncompleted horizontal lines and not one. Both lines were written from starting at the left side line. The presence of the two lines is probably due to the psychological pressure faced by the artist. His first attempt was not satisfying and so he tried again. Both horizontal lines start at the same point on the left side line. The lower horizontal line ends with some zigzagging indicating the tension of the artist especially that this is the first letter which shows most of tension (Fig. 24).
The technique which was used to sign the painting and the hand path both indicates that the hand did not move according to the specific path that the brain is accustomed to perceive. The spaces between the letters in the original signature are much smaller (Fig. 25) than the spaces between the letters in the signature under study.
(Fig. 26). All of the above evidence reveals the forgery of the signature.
In brief, graphoanalysis of the signature under study and comparison studies which involved comparing the characteristics of the mother signature and the signature under study, all revealed that the latter signature is not the result of an instant message from the human brain which orders the hand to write according to the specific path that the brain is accustomed to perceive. It only shows that it is the work of an artist under the pressure of imitating an original signature.
Moreover, the horizontal line of the letter “A” in original signatures start at the right side line and ends at the left side lines, overlapping both side lines (Fig. 27). But in this case study, the horizontal line starts at the left side line and stops before reaching the right side line (Fig. 28). This also indicates the forgery of the signature.
**Similar paintings**
Investigations of paintings of unknown origin often call on a diverse range of consultants. From the arts, provenance studies (where an art historian judges the painting’s history relative to known facts about the artist) are coupled with connoisseurship (where an art expert compares a visual inspection of the painting with the catalog of known paintings).9 After searching in the paintings of the Russian painter Ivan Aivazovsky, this painting was not found registered under his name. However, several paintings of similar themes were found. This might indicate that the forger combined different ideas from each painting to carry out his work. The different between the painting under study and original
---
paintings is that the sea waves in painting under study was done using the impasto technique (Fig. 29).
On the other hand, the sea waves in all original paintings examined by the researcher were done by applying a smooth paint layer (Fig. 30). The strokes of the brush in original paintings reflect the smoothness of the flow, but the brush strokes in the case of the painting under study reflects the tension of the artist. The waves region particularly shows the tension of the artist as the brush strokes are not connected. The same region in original paintings was done smoothly. The brush strokes are connected and the waves appear as if they were real. Although the painting under study was accurately done, it still does not reflect the main characteristics of Aivazovsky’s work.
SECTION - CROSS
Study of cross-sections of the ground and paint layers reveals technique; the structure of the paint layers, the mixture the painter’s of the pigment grains, the density of the colors, and the layer structure of the painting. The construction of the layers helps to determine the school the painting belongs to. In this painting the cross section technique was used to identify the layer structure and the artistic style used. The cross section of a green sample (Fig. 31) revealed that the artist had applied four layers of the paint layer over a thick ground layer of a red pigment which its main component is hematite, lead white and chalk also appear in this layer. This sample confirms that the artist used the multi-layer technique which is one of the methods used in oil paintings. The sample which was taken from the blue pigment was examined as a cross section under microscope (Fig. 32). The examination showed
that the layer structure is of three layers: the upper layer is blue black; the second is yellow, and the lower layer is brown. The sample taken from the white impasto area of the sea waves (Fig. 33) reveals the presence of a fine dark upper layer of varnish which is followed by white layer that is very thick; the final lower layer is very thin and it is green. From these results, one can conclude that the painting is composed of a wood support; a ground layer composed of three layers; and a paint layer carried out using the multi-layer and impasto techniques.
**BINDER AND VARNISH SAMPLES**
Two samples were analyzed using FTIR; in order to identify the binder which used with the filler in the ground layer and the resin in the varnish layer. Functional groups and wave numbers of the varnish and the binder were measured, bending of dammar resin were sited on the FTIR charts. Based on the results, it has been proven that dammar varnish is the varnish layer (Fig. 34), but natural glue was not detected and an artificial polymer was found to be used as an alternative (Fig. 35). The use of artificial polymer clearly evidences that the painting is not original; because artificial polymers were discovered many decades after the death of the famous Russian painter, Ivan Aivazovsky.
**PIGMENT AND GROUND SAMPLES**
**Green pigment sample**
XRD analysis of the green pigment sample from the sea area of the studied object proved that the pigment material is green earth “celadonite” [Fe. Al. Mg. K, hydrosilicate] (standard No. 17-521).\(^\text{11}\) The sample also contains: graphite [C] (standard No. 12-212), zinc
---
\(^{11}\) JCPDS, Jaint committee on powder diffraction standards, index to the powder diffraction file, American society for testing and materials, Pennsylvania, 1967.
oxide [ZnO] (standard No. 05-0664), halite (standard No. 5-0628), hemaitite [$\alpha$ Fe$_2$O$_3$] (standard No. 13-534), For ochres, the major component is hematite. In highly prized ochres traces of muscovite and quartz add ‘sparkle’ to the ochre.
Lead carbonate hydroxide [Pb$_3$(Co$_3$)$_2$(OH)$_2$] and calcite [CaCO$_3$] (standard No. 5-0586). The EDAX analysis of the sample proved that it contains: about 92.55% carbon; 00.54% iron; 00.19% potassium; 00.33% magnesium; 00.54 aluminum; 01.00% silicon; 01.33% sodium; 00.22 chloride; 01.23% zinc; 00.50% calcium; and 1.57% lead (Fig. 36).
**Blue pigment sample**
Based on the XRD analysis, the blue pigment material used in the painting is phthalocyanine blue [C$_{32}$H$_{16}$N$_{8}$Cu] (standard cupper is no. 04-0836), mixed with graphite [C]. The analyzed sample also contains ochre yellow [iron oxide hydroxide] (standard No. 13 - 92) and raw umber [iron oxide hydroxide] (standard no. 13-87). The EDAX analysis of the same sample proved that it contains 96.20% carbon; 00.40% iron and 03.40% cupper (Fig. 37).
**White pigment sample**
The polymorphs anatase, rutile and brookite cannot be identified by Raman microscopy, nor can other TiO species, though they can by X-ray diffraction (XRD).
XRD analysis performed on white pigment material in the area of waves proved that it is titanium white “rutile” [Ti O$_2$] (standard No. 4-0551) and zinc oxide [ZnO] (zincite). The sample also contains: lead carbonate hydroxide, graphite [C], halite (standard No. 5-0628) and quartz.
---
The EDAX analysis of the same sample proved that it contains about 54.0% carbon, 5.0% titanium, 06.0% zinc, 22.0% lead, 11.0% sodium and 2.0% silicon (Fig. 38).
The results of the SEM-EDAX reveal the use of two pigments which were both manufactured after the death of the Russian painter, Ivan Aivazovsky, whose signature is found on the painting. These pigments were used by painters after the death of Aivazovsky; that is after 30 years of his death in the case of phthalocyanine blue, and 20 years in the case of titanium white.
in the pigment was first developed as a Phthalocyanine blue. It dyes and paints mid-1930s. Its brilliant blue is frequently used in is highly valued for its superior properties such as light fastness, tinting strength, covering power and resistance to the effects of , acids and alkalis.
The white of TiO2 is a well known modern colorant since 1919. Mass-production of the artist-quality oil pigment only began in the early 1920s. TiO2 and is something which is related to kaolin deposits. The level used as white pigment from analyses of TiO2 in kaolin which is around the world concentrated to 1% by weight.15
**Ethyl Alcohol (solubility test)**
Ethyl alcohol solubility test was performed to identify the solubility of the paint layer and the varnish layer in ethanol. It has been noted that the removal of the varnish layer was not easy and at the same time it was not hard either; same situation occurred in the
---
case of the paint layer. The test was done on one of the edges of the painting. The results of this test indicate that the age of the painting is not less than 25 years old and not more than 75 years old.\textsuperscript{16} Mentions that ethyl alcohol has a vast effect on dry paint layer and varnish layer; however recent paintings (25 years old or more) are more affected by the use of ethyl alcohol compared to older paintings (55 years old or 75 years old).
This test confirms that the age of the painting is certainly less than 100 years old. Based on the results of the previous examinations and analyses and the researcher’s long experience in detecting forgery, the researcher dated the painting to between 1950 and 1960.
The color of the varnish is yellow in tone appears transparent below the frame (Fig.39). This confirms that the varnish of the painting, which was identified as dammar, is the original varnish of the painting and that all materials used to produce the painting including the varnish were used and applied on the painting in the same period and are not materials used for restoration purposes. This conclusion is based on the results of different examination techniques, particularly ultraviolet radiation inspection.
\textbf{CONCLUSIONS}
According to the results of the previous analyses and investigation techniques, the picture under study, which is displayed at the Embassy of Georgia in Cairo and signed with the name of the Russian painter Ivan Aivazovsky, was forged. This has been proven through performing several examinations, analyses, and tests such as SEM-EDAX, and XRD.
The results revealed that two pigments used in this painting were manufactured and used for the first time by artists 30 years after the death of Aivazovsky in the case of phthalocyanine blue and 20 years after his death in the case of titanium white. Russian artist Ivan Aivazovsky died in 1900.
Furthermore, after comparing the signature found on this picture with those found on original paintings for Aivazovsky, it was found that the signature is forged as well. This study included using techniques such as graphoanalysis. The mother signature was compared to that on the painting to study the writing pattern. This investigation revealed that the signature found on the painting under study does not reflect the characteristics of spontaneous writing that is a result of an instant message from the human brain which orders the hand to write according to the specific path that the brain is accustomed to perceive. The flow of the signature does not match that of the original official signature of the Russian Artist. On the contrary, the signature reflects the hesitation of the person who done the signing.
Moreover, in original signatures, the horizontal line in letter “A” starts from the right side line and ends at the left side line; it also overlaps both side line that make up the letter A. On the other hand, in the case of the signature under study, the horizontal side line starts from the left line and does not reach the left side line but it stops just before reaching it. This is further evidence indicating the occurrence of forgery.
Cross-section technique revealed that the paint layer is layered in a uniform pattern and each layer is separate and there is no sign of overlapping; may be this is a result of slow appliance of the layers. Then again, the painting technique used which involved the use of different separate tones produces an overlapping structure of the paint layer, and this is opposite to what the cross-sections
reveal. The lake of spontaneity indicates that this work was done by a forger and that the painting is not original.
Further evidence indicating forgery is the results obtained from the FTIR analysis. FTIR was employed to identify both the binder used with the filler in the ground layer and the resin in the varnish layer. Natural Glue was not detected and an artificial polymer was found to be used instead. On the other hand artificial polymers were discovered after the death of the Russian artist.
Another difference between the original painting and this painting is the technique used to execute the sea waves. Waves in the painting under study were done using the impasto technique; but in the original paintings, the artist did not use this technique. Alternatively, he applied smooth paint layer. Additionally, brush strokes are discontinuous and therefore indicate hesitation. On the other hand, original paintings show smooth flow of pigments.
Inspection of the surface of the painting using stereomicroscope, digital camera, ultraviolet radiation, and infrared radiation revealed that the damage forms found in the painting was done by the forger to give the painting an antique appearance. Solubility test confirms that the age of the painting is certainly less than 100 years old. Based on the results of the previous examinations and analyses and the researcher’s long experience in detecting forgery, the researcher dated the painting to between 1950 and 1960.
References
- BÉNÉZIT, E., Dictionnaire Critique et Documentaire Des Peintres Sculpteurs Dessinateurs Et Graveurs des tout les temps et de tous les pays par un groupe d'écrivains spécialistes français et étrangers, TOMÉ 1 GRÜNĐ, 1999, P. 126.
- JCPDS, Joint committee on powder diffraction standards, index to the powder diffraction file, American society for testing and materials, Pennsylvania, 1967.
- Smith, k., Horton, k., Watling, J, R. and Scoular, N., Detecting art forgeries using LA-ICP-MS incorporating the in situ application of
-Tafacamoba, T.H.C., NBAH KOHCTAHTNHOBNY, AÑBA3O-BCKNÑ, N3AAATEABCTBO NCKYCCTBO, MockBa, 1965.
- www.agniart.ru
- WWW.moodbook.com
- WWW.abcgallery.com
Fig. 1 The painting signed by the Russian artist Aivazovsky.
Fig. 2 Artificial parallel lines of cracks pass across the brush strokes.
Fig. 3 The compression cracks in the paint layer made by a special tool (Black-and-white image).
Fig. 4 Thin paint layer was applied on top of artificial cracks.
Fig. 5 The forger would fill the hollow part with final brush strokes (Black-and-white image).
Fig. 6 The varnish layer fills the elongated compressions in the Paint layer.
Fig. 7 The natural cracks on an original oil painting.
Fig. 8 The naked eye reflects the high forgery skills of forger.
Fig. 9 The wide crack runs parallel to the accumulated color.
Fig. 10 The letters of the signatures cover the wide crack.
Fig. 11 The letters fell off and only some remains are present on the smoothness layer.
Fig. 12 Artificial multiple dents appear as flaking.
Fig. 13 The piece of paper was glued to the paste layer.
Fig. 14 The paint was applied on the top.
Fig. 15 The painting in a valuable frame.
Fig. 16 Original strokes are done with confidence.
Fig. 17 The signature on the painting. Under study was not done by brush.
Fig. 18 The sign of the original painting was done by brush.
Fig. 19 Unsmooth writing due to the shivering of the artist’s hand.
Fig. 20 Poor adherence of the signature to the paint layer.
Fig. 21 The official signature in the Dictionary of International Artists.
Fig. 22 The two side lines of the letter of “A” are not connected.
Fig. 23 The accumulation of the paint in the middle of the left side line.
Fig. 24 Both horizontal lines start at the same point on the left side line.
Fig. 25 The spaces between the letters in the original signature are much small.
Fig. 26 The spaces between the letters in the signature under study are much bigger.
Fig. 27 The horizontal line of the letter “A” in original signatures start at the right side line.
Fig. 28 The horizontal line starts at the left side line in the case study.
Fig. 29 The brush strokes are not connected in the case study.
Fig. 30 The brush strokes are Connected in the original painting.
Fig. 31 The cross section of a green sample. (four layers of the paint layer) 225X.
Fig. 32 The cross section of a blue sample (three layers of the paint layer) 175X.
Fig. 33 The cross section of a white sample.
Fig. 34 FTIR spectrum of the varnish. 185x
Fig. 35 FTIR spectrum of the ground binder.
Fig. 36 EDAX spectra of the studied green sample.
Fig. 37 EDAX spectra of the studied. blue sample.
Fig. 38 EDAX spectra of the studied white sample.
Fig. 39 All materials of the painting applied in the same period based on the results of ultraviolet radiation inspection. |
Organising design in the wild: locating multidisciplinarity as a way of working
How to cite:
© 2014 Taylor Francis
Version: Version of Record
Link(s) to article on publisher’s website:
http://dx.doi.org/doi:10.1080/17452007.2014.892472
Copyright and Moral Rights for the articles on this site are retained by the individual authors and/or other copyright owners. For more information on Open Research Online’s data policy on reuse of materials please consult the policies page.
Organising design in the wild: locating multidisciplinarity as a way of working
Rachael Luck
To cite this article: Rachael Luck (2015) Organising design in the wild: locating multidisciplinarity as a way of working, Architectural Engineering and Design Management, 11:2, 149-162, DOI: 10.1080/17452007.2014.892472
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/17452007.2014.892472
© 2014 The Author(s). Published by Taylor & Francis.
Published online: 12 Mar 2014.
Submit your article to this journal
Article views: 176
View related articles
View Crossmark data
Citing articles: 2 View citing articles
Organising design in the wild: locating multidisciplinarity as a way of working
Rachael Luck*
The Design Group, Engineering and Innovation Department, The Open University, Walton Hall, Milton Keynes MK7 6AA, UK
(Received 30 January 2013; accepted 22 January 2014)
The workplace ecology of a multidisciplinary design team is studied to better understand how design work is organised in the wild. Reported is an ethnographic account of the events and practices that were seen, in patterned and subtle ways, to organise the design work for a project. Design events and activities were distributed in nested contexts throughout the office setting. The design work was seen to be planned, self-organised and coordinated through a series of practical actions and events that occurred in different locations. There was no single, identifiable event, interaction or communicative medium in which the coordination of the design work occurred. From these insights, multidisciplinarity is proposed as a way of organising design work that cuts across some design interfaces. This way of procuring design services is contingent on the appointment of a design firm with multidisciplinary expertise, in an arrangement where the design work is undertaken collaboratively in a co-located setting with underpinning information systems.
Keywords: design practice; design coordination; co-location; workplace studies; ethnography
Introduction
At a point in time when technologies that support distributed working are pervasive, being able to justify the space and places for co-located working is increasingly important. Design service organisations make strategic decisions: in the place of work for design teams, the configuration of workplace settings and the information systems that support collaborative work. These decisions are complex, multifaceted and are interwoven. These are design management concerns that impact the ways that design services are delivered and essentially the competitive performance, sustainability and the survival of a firm (Emmitt, 1999, 2007). It is a particular mode of design service delivery, multidisciplinary that is detailed in this article, to reveal some of the routine, yet significant practices in the workplace that organise the design activities for a multidisciplinary design team.
Complex relationships exist between the organisational design of firms, the structure of the construction sector and the configuration of work in project-based organisations (Bresnen, 2005). Increasingly construction projects are configured as globally distributed design teams and there is a trend towards mega-scale international conglomerates of design service provider organisations (Emmitt, 2010, p. 18; Winch, 2008). This distributed way of working is possible
given the multiple information systems that underpin e-business and commerce and the collaboration technologies, groupware and digital tools that support design work specifically. Given the potential for networked collaborative work, the procurement of design services has advantageously explored the outsourcing of design work internationally and the export of high-value design services to global markets (Tombesi, Dave, Gardiner, & Scrive, 2007). To competitively provide design services the local and global are linked. Decisions concerning the location in which design work is undertaken and then how it is organised and coordinated both within and between settings are complicated, in a trade-off between distributed socio-technically mediated interaction and social interaction that takes place in person.
Given that collaborative work over-distance, mediated by information and communication technologies is feasible, what then are the merits of design delivered as a multidisciplinary service in a co-located setting? To examine this, the working practices of a multidisciplinary design team are studied in their workplace settings to draw attention to the subtleties of some routine practices and how these are instrumental in organising the design work for a project. In particular, it is the interplay between a location and the activities that take place there that are brought into focus, to illustrate how some routine practices feature in the organisation and coordination of design work. This article draws attention to multidisciplinarity as a particular way of working to show how the design ecology that is the setting, as well as the activities and practices that take place there are seen to be intricately interwoven.
The paper is structured first outlining previous research that studies social interaction in design team meetings. The background to the data collection and the methodological orientation of the research are then introduced, followed by an account of the ways that design work is organised and coordinated in this multidisciplinary design practice.
Routine attention to design meetings
The organisation of the design activities within a multidisciplinary design team take several forms and interleaves activities within a design organisation with the production of design information for a project. Design meetings are important events in achieving this for several reasons. They are part of a routine way of working and the everyday life for a project and as patterned events feature significantly in the organisation of design work. Design team meetings are the locus for conversations between designers with different knowledge and expertise and are events that are organised specifically to discuss the design (Cross & Clayburn Cross, 1995). Design meetings often provide a setting for the members of a design team to meet in person, to talk in face-to-face situations (Emmitt, 2010; Emmitt & Gorse, 2007; Gorse & Emmitt, 2007; den Otter & Emmitt, 2007). Indeed, the analysis of design teams interacting in meeting settings has received much research attention (Emmitt & Gorse, 2007; Kleinsmann, Valkenburg, & Buijs, 2007; Luck, 2013; Maier, Eckert, & Clarkson, 2009; McDonnell & Lloyd, 2009). This interest in meetings is unsurprising, as these are project events that can be easily defined and data collection can be specific and prescribed. There are different types of design meetings and the name of a meeting type, the project stage, the people present and chairing meetings are known to differ (Foley & Macmillan, 2005). Analyses of the patterns of interaction in meetings have reported on the more dominant parties speaking most in meetings at various project stages (Austin, Steele, Macmillan, Kirby, & Spence, 2001; Foley & Macmillan, 2005; Hugill, 2004) and the informal socio–emotional interaction that accompanies task-based communication in meeting settings (Gorse & Emmitt, 2009). On occasion events that have already happened on a project are recounted as stories at a meeting and a local project history unfolds as a project progresses (Lloyd, 2000).
The settings where design team meetings take place will vary from project to project. We are designing buildings at a time when there is choice in the media used to work collaboratively and
in the medium in which design content is created. We have technologically mediated support for synchronous design collaboration in remote situations (e.g. shared building information modelling model), as well as numerous asynchronous modes for information sharing (Emmitt & den Otter, 2007; den Otter & Emmitt, 2007). Meeting in person is not always feasible, for example, when working in design teams that are geographically distributed. The use of video-conferencing tools and online conversations, augmented with desktop sharing functionality are increasingly part of the communicative repertoire used on projects. The trade between the time, effort and expense in travel to a meeting are reasons that are often cited for not attending (Emmitt, 2007, p. 244) or choosing to arrange meetings using remote-synchronous communication tools, even though the richness of communication in face-to-face interaction is well documented (Dixon & Panteli, 2010). Although design team meetings have received much research attention it is not only at meetings that design activities are discussed and organised. This research studies what it is that happens in workplace settings, especially in and around design meetings, to justify meeting in person now that remote collaboration is both feasible and ubiquitous. In doing this we draw attention to the kinds of interactions that take place in the workplace and begin to probe the characteristics of these and how they constitute a design event. To study this first the research design, the data and methods are introduced.
Background and methods
A multidisciplinary design practice is a perspicuous setting to study the organisation of design work in the everyday workplace settings, where design work happens. The materials on which these observations are ground were gathered from a multidisciplinary design practice based in the UK, which provides consultancy services to the architectural engineering and construction and major infrastructure sectors internationally. The organisation we examine works in an office building designed to a British Council for Offices specification in a building that they designed and has won several awards. Providing a workplace environment that enables increased collaborative working was a motivation for relocating to this building several years ago. Before occupying this building, the organisation’s workspaces were organised by design discipline. This is a workplace configuration that is inclined to encourage silo-working and thinking, where the information generated by one expertise is ‘passed over the wall’ to another and is considered to exacerbate sequential and not collaborative design work.
The building they currently occupy was designed with an open plan floorplate. There were shared facilities on each floor, including a kitchen area and printing services, which meant that wandering around the open plan space was not unusual. The workspace had the feel of a creative design studio, in many ways akin to design studios in schools of architecture. Everyone had a dedicated workspace with a computer and some near-proximal, territorial ‘layout’ space for drawings and other materials. The design studio in several respects acted as a physical manifestation for a matrix organisation. By organising the workplace around project-based groupings rather than disciplinary expertise serendipitous, cross-disciplinary interactions took place in this setting, as well as interactions specifically for work-related reasons. The physical configuration of the workplace provided opportunities for routine, everyday interactions to happen between people, natural encounters to get to know colleagues as people instead of viewing less well-known colleagues by their design discipline stereotype. An awareness of colleagues’ competencies and characteristics were also raised over time as people worked on different projects in different project-team configurations. In a large organisation, it was both the workplace configuration and some very pragmatic decisions aligning design expertise with project resource that encouraged people to know each other better and not just colleagues from the same design background.
The nature of the fieldwork was ethnographic with the research team gathering data, video-recording meetings, talking to the design team, observing and making field notes as activities happened in the workplace (Garfinkel, 1967; Heath, Hindmarsh, & Paul, 2010; Luff, Hindmarsh, & Heath, 2000). This took place intermittently, over a six-month period, spending over 100 hours attending all the planned design team meetings, with designers in the studio and other workplace locations. Given this open access the researchers had ample opportunity to become familiar with this multidisciplinary design team’s ways of working and how the activities observed fit within the wider organisation. A rich body of data and experiences were available to draw from including conversations with people in various workplace settings, as well as the more substantive and enduring recordings of interactions that were available for repeated review. The data are regarded as naturalistic, as the activities on a ‘live’ project are reported at events that would have taken place irrespective of whether the researchers were present. In keeping with the observer’s paradox (Labov, 1972, p. 209) however, we can never know whether what was observed would have been different had a participant observer not been present. These data permit focus on the ways that the design ecology was produced in the situated activities and practices in the workplace. Design in the wild was experienced, as it was taking place.
The design of one project was shadowed in particular, studying the activities of a design team longitudinally as the scheme progressed from the early design stages, Royal Institute of British Architects stage B through to detailed design, stage C+. An advantage of this approach was that the team’s design practices over a sustained period of time are reflected in the data. The design concept was developed for the project, then outline proposals for architectural, structural and building services systems were prepared in increasingly finer-grained detail and the coordination of these multiple design inputs was crucial to progress the scheme. It is significant in this dataset that all the design disciplines appointed for the project were employed by the same organisation. In this respect, the research observed the organisation and coordination of design activities across design disciplinary boundaries within an organisation. These are management concerns that can be traced back to Lawrence and Lorsch (1967). A characteristic of this data is that it represents the organisation of design work for an inter-disciplinary design team within a multidisciplinary design organisation.
The organisation of the design work was studied informed by workplace studies and ethno-methological studies of work, where the actions and practices of people as they go about their routine activities are examined closely (Garfinkel, 1967; Heritage, 1997; Luff et al., 2000). With this form of analysis, the mundane, practical actions that organise everyday life are remarkable. The distinctive character of this multidisciplinary design firm and the way that they organise their design work is evident by studying situated actions at specific moments in time as well as how patterned actions provided a routine order to their work. It is in these ‘small ways’ that people locally recognise and reproduce the organisational location of their actions and these are noteworthy. This orientation to fieldwork is attentive to the setting in which social interaction takes place and how the activities that take place are seen and are understood (Luck, 2014). This builds on studies of ecological orbits and huddles (Goffman, 1965) knowing that the way that systems interact within a setting are intrinsic to the survival of an ecosystem, in this case for a multidisciplinary design practice to be competitive in an international environment.
Location-based working is studied within this multidisciplinary design organisation. This is examined by offering a mirror up to the seen but taken for granted, as well as some less reported activities and practices in the workplace that organise the design work. The research team brings particular expertise to this, including practical experience in the design of workplace environments, research expertise in the evaluation of office workplaces and the lived experience of working in design practices. This expertise is acknowledged to bring an awareness of the practices that are more routine and those that are novel in design firms. Presented here is an account that
characterises the design interactions in different workplace settings for this organisation. This approach is different from studies of the design ethos of firms, which describe workplace practices in less detail (Carolin & Duffy, 2005; Lawson, 2008). It does support renewed interest in understanding how the spatial configuration of workplace settings impact on the organisation of work (Beyes & Steyaert, 2012; Laing, Jaunzens, Duffy, & Willis, 1998; Meusburger, Funke, & Wunder, 2009).
**Interaction in the workplace**
The design team meetings and other interactions when the design of a scheme was being discussed took several forms in this firm. This brings into question what we mean when we talk about ‘design meetings’ and whether previous research is necessarily reporting on the same phenomenon. Is it the location, the presence of designers at an event, or something else that constitutes some forms of interaction as a design meeting? Furthermore, just what is it that makes some interactions in the workplace remarkable to progress the design of a scheme? These are categorical concerns that are addressed in this article by presenting a characterisation for each of the different forms of workplace interaction observed: (i) design co-ordination meetings, (ii) improvised meetings, (iii) design workshops and some and (iv) interactions in the design studio. There were other types of events that routinely took place in this organisation that are not reported, for example, strategic management meetings, although they were also important for the smooth running of the organisation. Characterisations for each of the specifically project-oriented interaction events follow.
**Design coordination meetings**
The design meetings that were held on a routine basis were the design coordination meetings. The design of the project was progressing at a fast pace and design coordination meetings were usually held at weekly intervals (although the frequency of the meetings did vary dependent on the project’s progress). These were organised events, for a planned date when the design team met in person. Design coordination meetings were held in a meeting room within the building (Figure 1) and a
room booking was made in advance. An agenda for each meeting was circulated by email beforehand, minutes were taken, either by the design manager or the project administrator, and a date for the next meeting was set at the end of each meeting.
Design coordination meetings were chaired by the in-house design manager and attended by the lead designer from each of the design specialisms for the project. The core people present at these meetings were: the in-house design manager, a structural engineer, mechanical/electrical services engineer, project architect, quantity surveyor, landscape architect and Building Research Establishment Environmental Assessment Methodology consultant, and on occasion other members of the team joined these meetings. At these events, people used pens and notepads and referred to copies of the last meeting’s minutes. Noticeably, there was limited reference to a design programme, although the design manager was monitoring progress against a programme and commenting on progress against project stage and shorter-term deadlines for design tasks. Other than referring to the agenda and minutes from the previous meeting, the use of materials at these meetings was rare and limited to occasional note taking and minuting the meeting in progress. Seldom were design drawings brought to a design coordination meeting. This placed high emphasis on each person’s account of what had happened on the project and remembering why this was relevant to the project at that point in time. This way of working encouraged a more collective sense of knowing ‘where we are’ as a team in the progression of the project’s design.
A routine pattern at these meetings was for each discipline to present an update on their progress, starting with the project architect’s account. At each meeting, there was interplay between accounting for activities that had happened during the week and task-coordination actions, when the design team planned future actions, for example, discussing which information was outstanding and allocating responsibilities for providing this. In this respect, design coordination meetings acted as project milestones, as minutes from a meeting set deadline dates for the completion of actions (for example, setting the next meeting as the deadline for information). However, to view these meetings solely as task coordination events, where plans are made for activities that will happen after a meeting (Ikeya, Awamura, & Sakai, 2010), under-represents what was going on. While task coordination and the planning of future activities did take place in this setting, a characteristic of these meetings was that the design team discussed and progressed the scheme’s design at the meeting. Discussion of missing information often led to the negotiation of possible design solutions. It is this projection into what will or might happen that was remarkable, as possible solutions that were yet to be formalised in the design drawings or building model were debated. These provisional and tentative workaround actions were significant in sensitising and raising the teams’ collective awareness of aspects of the design that need immanent attention and, as such, prioritised design work. Design decisions and problems that could be resolved then and there amongst the people present, in general were.
The major shifts in the topic of conversation were with reference to the agenda, as steered by the Chair. Within an agenda topic, the designers were self-organising, selecting next speakers for their input on specific design points. Some advantages of staging meetings where people meet and talk in person in a co-located setting became apparent. In this setting, in face-to-face interaction, a wide range of human proximal communicative resources were available: the intonation in speech as well as the content of what is said, gestures, bodily posture and orientation, gaze and interpersonal perception. It is this ability to sense, and ‘to feel’ when someone looks in your direction in particular that is not supported in other media. This communicative resource was noteworthy, especially in the selection of a next speaker, to make it known who was accountable to respond to a point being made. Many small actions featured in the organisation of who spoke next in conversation and, concomitantly, whose views input to the discussion of the design. The length of time spent in the discussion of the design content at these meetings varied, and
often the topics discussed warranted further attention and cross-disciplinary input outside a coordination meeting.
**Improvised design meetings**
The meetings characterised as improvised design meetings were most clearly illustrated by the events that continued after a coordination meeting, although they did happen at other times too. The term improvised acknowledges that these events were unplanned, creatively making use of the people available after a meeting, a practice observed in other situations (Tribelsky & Sacks, 2011). Improvised design meetings were events staged to discuss a particular design topic, although keeping the discussion to one aspect of the design, which was inevitably interwoven with others, was a task at these meetings. The choice in the location of these events was remarkable. In keeping with the room booking procedures for the organisation, which were scheduled to a time slot, the design team vacated the room where the design coordination meeting was held and found an unoccupied room. In this there was advantageous use of different kinds of workspaces within the office. This reflects their choice in where to work and personal volition, in not being held accountable for time away from their desk. It illustrates that design was taking place in multiple locations; design work is not only situated in the studio. In this choice of location, these events were seemingly put on a different footing from conversations that took place in the design studio.
In the change of location several things happened. This was a juncture for those present whose input was not needed on this topic to depart. Often there was a swift refreshment break before starting a meeting. This was an opportunity for other people in the office to join the discussion. Improvisation at these events was evident in self-selected involvement, advantageously deciding on a place to meet and finding people with the most relevant expertise to join in. With this, there was a choice in who will input on this subject at this time. This way of working was contingent on a local awareness of other’s competencies, their current project commitments (major deadlines) their disposition to being interrupted and where they are at that point in time.
At these meetings, the project architect took a lead, steering the design focus and direction of the topic, although the meeting was not chaired. An architect from another project joined the meeting above (Figure 2) so his expertise and experience on a similar project could be brought into conversation. The design of the energy centre was the topic at this meeting. The team’s creative exploration on this topic was enhanced through recounting vicarious, direct and indirect experiences (Gino, Argote, Miron-Spektor, & Todorova, 2009). These events were not minuted and as such no codified conclusions and next actions were recorded. Indeed, discussion of the contingencies in the design of the scheme rather than explicit problem solving and decision-making actions were characteristic of these conversations. These self-organised practices reflect a way that design was approached as collective activity, on occasion in an ecological huddle that evidently disrupts silo-thinking. This was an improvised event where knowledge-sharing and some form of learning between disciplines and across projects took place.
**Design workshops**
Design workshops were organised at intermittent intervals dependent on the project’s progress, specifically for the whole design team to report on their progress and the development of the scheme.
The workshops took place in the design studio, which added to the sense that a project milestone-event was taking place. A design workshop was an opportunity to showcase the scheme and to profile its progress in the office. The event engendered a sense of occasion in the design studio
and raised awareness of the project and its achievements. However, this practice was not universally well received. For example, actions, such as, starting the dishwasher when a design workshop was in flow, were noted as a way of audibly disrupting and making it known that staging these events in the design studio was not well welcomed by all. The Director of Architecture was aware of this. Staging workshops in the studio was a deliberate intervention, a recent change in practice that was being profiled on this project. Design workshops are routine on projects and in this organisation. The change was in the location of the design workshops. There are received associations when working in open plan office configurations with disruption and loss of concentration (Banbury & Berry, 2005), yet breaking the notion that work in an office is a desk-bound activity (sitting at a computer workstation) and that being quiet is part of working in an open plan space, were knowingly being challenged and breached in this decision. Workspace, locations of work and associations in the kinds of activities that take place there are interwoven in this design ecology. The intervention was deliberate, to encourage design creativity and its visibility in a large organisation in an open plan setting (a characteristic also noted by Meusburger et al., 2009). Engendering across-project as well as multidisciplinary design creativity is something that is worked at in large organisations, in this case through deliberate intervention, a happening in the design studio (Figure 3).
In several respects, the design workshops share similarities with design crits in architectural education (Murphy, Ivarsson, & Lymer, 2012), as materials were displayed on pin-boards and were projected onto a wall, then one person presented their work to the audience and this design input was then discussed. The presentations were listened to and then critiqued by those present, as much to highlight areas for further attention rather than to resolve a specific problem at that moment in time (Figure 4).
Noticeably at these events, questions were asked that crossed design disciplines, expertise and seniority. At the concept design stage, when several scheme options were being considered, a less experienced architectural graduate presented their design, which was reviewed in a similar way to other schemes. The Director of Architecture joined several workshops and was able to dip into conversation when passing through the studio on other occasions, and in this way input into the discussion and assessment of the designs at his discretion. People working on other projects
joined this scheme’s workshops, and others joined in the discussion when passing through the presentation area. This fluidity in engagement in the workshops was possible because these events took place in an open plan space and not in a separate room away from the studio.
Design workshops were an event that was seen to enable inter-project information sharing and learning from others’ experiences to inform the development of the scheme. For example, discussing on-site difficulties with the configuration of a courtyard led to the discussion of how a similar situation was resolved on another project. These accounts of what has happened previously illustrate how local project histories were interwoven in workshop conversations; on occasion recounted as near-disaster stories that were then re-formulated as a lesson learnt.
Finding ways to actively engage the valuable stock of knowledge and expertise that people have is an organisational concern that, arguably, is more pronounced in large organisations. The design workshops provided a forum for this exchange to happen. They illustrate an active way that organisational knowledge became manifest. This practice is considered to be more vital and accessible than the preparation of retrospective project case studies that are stored in repositories, with summaries posted to the organisation’s intranet, although this happened too.
Seemingly this event ‘type’ served many design coordination functions, yet it was only possible because the design team was multidisciplinary and based at the same location. The event provided a deadline for the completion of design work, as production drawings, sketches and models were needed for the designers to be able to talk to. Workshops were events in the workplace that engendered a sense of occasion and collective project-team achievement, and importantly encouraged inter-project organisational learning and the cross-fertilisation of design ideas. While creativity and learning is considered to be spatially situated (Meusburger et al., 2009), seldom can the location of situated learning and the transfer of knowledge between projects be located, spatially. The design workshop was an event convened at a time with a location for this.
Life in the design studio
It was in the design studio that multidisciplinarity as a way of working was most clearly evident. The design studio was a setting where knowledge workers generated design content at their workstations and the conversations that took place there were influential in content creation. To encourage greater collaborative working, the design studio layout was configured around projects. This was a management decision yet the design of the layout of studio was a task for the future occupants engaged in. The designers who now inhabit this workspace designed the building and the office layouts with an awareness of the spatial distribution of their own creative practices. The team working on this project sat at workstations in close proximity, to encourage greater interaction and collaborative working. Relationships between creativity, communication and proximity are known (Emmitt, 2007, pp. 248–249; Meusburger et al., 2009). Working in a studio milieu that was conducive to creative interaction was contingent on being able to see where colleagues are and, to some degree, knowing what they are doing at that point in time (Heath, Sanchez Svensson, Hindmarsh, Paul, & vom Lehn, 2002).
In this setting, knowing when to pay attention comes into play. Activities in the environs can be seen and some are overheard, which can help in maintaining an awareness of what is happening on the project, without being directly involved. At other times, designers were in the flow of focused knowledge work and being distracted by background activities was a consideration. While patterns of activity in the day, taking breaks, walking through the office and events in the studio engendered, in a general sense, an awareness of what was happening in the studio, this also happened in more subtle ways. Working in an open plan studio, the designers were aware of other people at work in this setting. This proximal awareness came into play when approaching a colleague to talk about the project. There was subtle judgement when to interrupt someone at work. At other times, pressing project events superseded a more considerate approach.
Characterising ad hoc conversations in the design studio as a form of design event is unusual, but these interactions underpinned collaborative design work in this setting. Conversations that can happen now, because the design team was co-located, mark and exemplify this multidisciplinary approach to design. Often these were conversations to address a particular design issue, now, when contact by email or telephone would have introduced a delay. The term ad hoc acknowledges that these interactions were improvised, yet these were deliberate, in response to something that was happening at that moment in time. Ad hocking associates these activities in the studio with routine workarounds that are part of how people get things done with the resources currently
available to them (Koopman & Hoffman, 2003). It was the expertise of proximate work colleagues that was the resource being drawn on. These included interactions at computer terminals, jointly viewing images on a screen (Ivarsson, 2010), looking at drawings, marking-up and sketching ideas to develop and resolve design clash issues (Henderson, 1999; Wagner, 2004). Talking to colleagues, for example, to discuss what was likely to happen in the afternoon, while they were away from the office, was a way to contingently organise the design work in response to current circumstances. Routine practices such as these were indicative of local coordination activities on projects, self-organising design activities in a more detailed and immediate way than at meetings. Significantly, working in a project-focused ecological orbit, these conversations were with colleagues with various design expertise.
The focus so far has been on interaction in person, without acknowledging the information systems that underpin the activities and interactions of the design team. Information systems enable geographically distributed design work, however, seldom acknowledged are the varying degrees that design teams are geographically distributed. Collaborative design work, even for these designers working in near proximal situations, was technologically mediated over distance. The workplace was one means to encourage interaction across disciplines and between projects, the information architecture platform, software applications and a desktop dashboard with a suite of collaboration tools were others. This team accessed a suite of design tools and collaboration media from the computer terminals at their workspace, through a network. These were the tools and technologies that supported hardwired collaboration.
Design activities were seen to be distributed throughout the office, the locus of digital design content creation, however, was at a computer. The designers, irrespective of their discipline, spent a substantial period of time at work using a computer and design tools from the Autodesk suite. This activity was augmented with email correspondence and using the organisation’s intranet-based file storage repository to back-up and share design content. There were organisation protocols in the use of the repository and knowing when to post information to this system were project concerns (Kimmerle, Cress, & Hesse, 2007) and file-sharing was discussed on occasion. In the transition from the production of drawings in 3D CAD to a Revit model not everyone in the team was using this system. The coordination of the building’s design was to some degree assisted using a shared design tool with a clash detection function. The imprecision of the building object, as it was being designed, however remained characteristic of design work in this environment too. Drawing attention to the ‘known unknowns’, the project risks as these can be defined in information terms (Winch, 2010, p. 350) were persistent concerns, irrespective of the design environment. Primarily the concerns were the availability of information, its precision and certainty (Luck, 2013).
Discussion: a multidisciplinary design ecology
The organisation of design work in this multidisciplinary practice was seen to take place through a series of patterned events and improvised interactions in the workplace. Staging coordination meetings in a room away from the studio, members of the project team were party to discussions of the design’s progress and in the planning of next action. Development of the scheme’s design was also improvised in ecological huddles and conversations in the studio. Workshops in the design studio raised the profile of the project and heightened awareness of this scheme, generally, throughout the workplace. Importantly, in providing an intervention into desk-bound activities in an office setting, these events were opportunities for cross-project engagement in design work and learning from others. However, collectively, these were nested contexts in the organisation of design work, where activities in one setting lead to other events and interactions. This organisation of patterned events with a loose fit, was a way of working that illustrates the benefits of
a distributed awareness of design work throughout the workplace to cross both project and design disciplinary interfaces. The ‘nested contexts’ and ‘patterned with a loose fit’ characterisations aptly reflect the flow of design work and its ecological embeddedness in this organisation. With this way of working characterising a meeting or interaction event by type with a kind of design organisation would under-represent how design activities permeate this ecology. When design is studied in the wild of the workplace, the actions and activities connected with designing and the ways that they are organised and coordinated were seen to be not so easy to compartmentalise. Design work was distributed across workplace settings. Evidently there were advantages with this co-located working arrangement, in the multiple and sometimes unexpected ways that cross-disciplinary design collaborations happened in the workplace. Multidisciplinarity as a way of working was only possible because this team was working in a co-located setting, in a shared workplace where the designers were in close proximity. In this design ecology, the production of design content was evidently an integration of the hardware, the workplace settings and information systems, with the software, the patterns of interactions and practices of the people at work there. Multidisciplinary was seen to be a way of designing collaboratively, to offer a design service that straddles disciplines and cuts through some design interfaces.
Conclusion
Studying the ecology of a multidisciplinary design team, this research has outlined how design work was organised through patterned events, interactions and practices in the workplace. The locations and settings in which design interactions take place were seen to feature in the actual organisation of the design work. In several workplace settings it was seen that the organisation and coordination of the design work took place through the self-organised practices and when the conversations of designers were overheard by the other people present. In short, there was no one event type, or person that solely coordinated the design work for the project. The coordination of design was a communicative act that was nested in conversations as well as using more specific and directed collaborative design tools and information systems within the workplace. Working in a co-located arrangement, there were advantages in the organisation of planned, as well as improvised, ad hoc events, when members of the design team met in person to talk and debate the design work in progress. An advantage of location-based working was the ability to flexibly and swiftly respond to things that happened on a project. From this insight, multidisciplinarity is proposed as a particular way of offering design services that is responsive to the routine and the unanticipated events of both project and studio life. Delivering design services in this manner is, however, contingent on the co-location of multidisciplinary design teams.
Acknowledgements
This research was funded by the Economic and Physical Sciences Research Council, EPSRC ‘Coordination and communication in construction design team meetings’ EP/H025421/1 and would not have been possible without open access and collaboration with the industrial partner organisation, as well as the people working on this project, who individually gave their consent to record their activities.
Notes
1. Architectural management is a term also used to describe the organisation of the design tasks in the production of project information, as well as the management of design firms.
References
Emmitt, S., & den Otter, A. (2007). Managing design with the effective use of communication media: The relationship between design dialogues and design team meetings. CIB World Congress 2007, Capetown: CIB.
|
Selling the Selling Point: How Innovation Communication creates Users of Virtual Worlds Architecture
Ursula Plesner & Maja Horst
Keywords: virtual worlds architecture, innovation communication, expectations, users, sociology of technology, interpretative flexibility
Abstract
This paper explores how Virtual Worlds are rhetorically constructed as obvious, innovative spaces for communication about architecture. It is argued that the marketization of an innovative use of new media platforms happens in early phases of the innovation processes, and the success of new media technologies such as Virtual Worlds hinges on the creation of expectations, which are intertwined with the discursive construction of future users. Drawing on the sociology of expectations and the sociology of technology, the paper argues that configuration of expected users is a central part of the communication about the innovation. It is demonstrated that the creation of markets does not begin when innovations such as Virtual Worlds Architecture are settled, but is intertwined with early expectations about their promises and limitations. Rather than seeing Virtual Worlds as settled and secluded sites for social and cultural innovation in themselves, we have examined how actors involved with them try to sell them as such. A crucial challenge for these actors turns out to be the interpretative flexibility of the innovation, since arguments designed to attract one kind of expected users might problematize the configuration of other types of users.
Introduction: The selling point of new virtual spaces for architectural communication
The aim of this article is to illustrate and discuss how seemingly obvious selling points in relation to new media platforms have to be sold, rhetorically. We analyze how architects try to sell Virtual Worlds as sites for innovative communication about architecture, and point out that a thorough theorizing of innovation communication alerts us to crucial moments in user- and market-making. The empirical background for these observations is a trend towards the creation of new virtual spaces that allow for immersion and online co-creation, in an attempt to innovate in relation to architectural communication. In object-based, three-dimensional, online collaborative spaces, architects can communicate with contractors and other actors about design in new ways. This poses new possibilities of inviting users into the design process. Traditional forms of user involvement in architecture have been constricted by a version of Collingridge’s (1980) control dilemma: At the start of the process, prospective users potentially have a large amount of influence, but it is very hard for them to know what to influence, because the architects has
---
1 This research is part of the Virtual Worlds Project, funded by the Danish Strategic Research Council (KINO) grant no. 09-063261. We would like to thank Bjarke Liboriussen and for his contribution to the production of empirical material.
limited capacity to create models that allow users to imagine the proposed environments. In contrast, object-based virtual worlds promise a technology which affords elaborate models of buildings or cityscapes, while being very flexible and open to change. For those architects who can be seen as first movers (Rogers 1995) in relation to virtual worlds as a professional communication platform, this seems like a real selling point for virtual worlds technologies. Users of architecture can be invited to test, inhibit and co-create new physical environments in an immersive way – in what has been termed a process of imaginative inhabitation (Rice 2007). A positive outcome of user-involvement is taken for granted as a way of democratizing (von Hippel 2005) architecture, and users are expected to jump at this possibility for exercising user-driven, or at least user-involving innovation in physical space. Critiques of this idealized view of user-involvement in architecture have been raised (Pallasmaa 2005), but this paper will not take a normative stand in relation to this debate. Instead, we are interested in pursuing how articulations of ‘the selling point’ of Virtual Worlds Architecture are intricately linked to specific imaginations of users. Drawing upon the STS literature on innovation and particularly on the configuration of users (Grint & Woolgar 1997; Oudshoorn & Pinch 2005; Akrich 1994), we assume that a user is not a pre-existing entity waiting to be mobilized by the architect. Rather, the architect has to devote time and effort in order to create interest and configure prospective users during the design process. The argument in this paper is that such configuration work can be understood as a crucial form of innovation communication, which is central to the ability to make an innovation.
The theoretical contribution of the paper is the proposal of an alternative to traditional perceptions of innovation communication (Rogers 1995), which portrays communication about an innovation as an add-on to the design phase, that is, as something disconnected in time and place from the design of the innovation. As an alternative, we want to explore how communication is an integral part of the innovation process. We are inspired by Pinch (2003), who argues that salesmen are an overlooked, but important, part of early technological development processes. In this paper, we follow his suggestion to study ‘selling as an activity’ (Pinch 2003: 269). We do, however, not focus on the human actors called ‘sales people’, but rather on selling as a function, which is part of the entire process of innovation. Our claim is that innovators are involved in the ‘selling’ of an innovation as soon as they begin to imagine the prospective users and make arguments about why these users should let themselves be convinced that the innovation is beneficial.
In the following section, we outline the theoretical argument on innovation communication as the simultaneous shaping of expectations to future solutions and the configuration of prospective users. Subsequently, we turn to our empirical case and analyze how the promise of virtual worlds for architectural communication (or Virtual Worlds Architecture, as we will call this innovation in the making) is articulated among architects and users of Second Life (SL) for architectural representations. On the basis of this material, we identify three central arguments for using virtual worlds to communicate about architecture. We call these the ‘ahead of the pack’ argument, the ‘revelation’ argument, and the ‘open innovation’ argument, and we have structured the first part of the analysis into sections which discuss each of these in turn. In the first section we see how SL is constructed as the place to be if you want to position yourself as cutting edge. And with this comes a view of users as demanding, tech savvy audiences which are already ‘out there’. In the second, we see how SL is constructed as a way to minimize the gap between an architect with spatial imagination and users without such. Users, here, are constructed as needing help from the communication technology, because it can reveal otherwise hidden (spatial) issues which are of
crucial importance. In the third section, we see how SL is constructed as a means to tap into a pool of resources from various specialists. In this argument, users appear as progressive, sharing and open innovation minded.
In the empirical material, we also identify articulations of resistance to each of these arguments. This prompts us to reflect upon the work required to ‘sell the selling point’ of virtual worlds as obvious sites for communicating about architecture, and we have devoted the last part of the analysis to the illustration of three different types of resistance. On this basis, we end the paper with a discussion of the challenges inherent to innovation communication. In particular, we focus on the way in which arguments, which are designed to enroll one type of user, can be seen as obstacles to the enrollment of other users. Hereby we also question the positive aspects of interpretative flexibility implied in the early studies of user configuration.
Theorizing innovation communication and user expectations
In his seminal work on the diffusion of innovations (Rogers 1995), Rogers’ central concern is how and why users adopt a technology, and communication is seen as a central medium through which the diffusion process takes place. From the point of view of Actor-Network-Theory (ANT), Bruno Latour (1986) has criticized this perspective, arguing that an innovation is not a stable object, endowed with a certain set of characteristics that will be more or less convincing to potential users. Rather, early ANT studies (e.g. Law 1991) were founded on the conceptualization of technological innovation as a process of translation, in which actors were enrolled on the basis of their own interests. Actors would become engaged with an innovation if they could use it to further their own ends, but these objectives did not need to be similar to the original aims of the innovators. The model of translation therefore, does not understand communication as a stable intermediary through which the innovation is brought to the attention of adaptors. Rather, communication is part and parcel of the development of the innovation, because the formation of networks and ‘interessement’ of actors is part of the innovation process itself. However, ANT-studies have primarily been engaged in the study of the process of innovation and the formation of socio-technical networks and have not considered the aspect of communication in any depth. This paper places emphasis on the communication aspect, and we define innovation communication as an integral part of the innovation processes which aims at generating support for the development of an innovation into a stable part of the socio-material reality.
Inspired by ANT, a number of scholars have focused on the performative role of visions and expectations in the innovation process (van Lente and Rip 1998; Brown, Rappert, & Webster 2000; Brown & Michael 2003; van Lente 1993). According to this literature, the central aspect of a study of expectations is not whether they are justified and will become true in the future, but rather how they serve as justifications for actions in the present. Actors routinely base their decisions on anticipations about future states of affairs, and communication about expectations is therefore a central component of the development of innovations. In order to gain support, build networks and enroll actors in support of the innovation, innovators have to engage in visionary communication. This is what Pinch alluded to when he claimed that sales people are the missing masses of technological development (Pinch 2003). In the present paper, we want to follow this line of argument by focusing specifically on the creation of expectations about how Virtual Worlds Architecture will be beneficial to prospective users. In our view, this form of creation of user expectations – which should be understood in its double meaning of expectations by and of users
– is a crucial element of innovation communication. In this way we seek to extend the application
of the sociology of expectations to the field of communication as such, and argue that
communication about the future is a general strategic form of communication, which innovation
actors engage in routinely.
Steve Woolgar (1991) and Madeleine Akrich (1994) have suggested that we adopt a semiotic
perspective and investigate how designers of technology ‘configure the user’ (Woolgar 1991) by
prescribing a certain role and context for use as an integrated part of the entire process of
technological development (Oudshoorn, Rommes & Stienstra 2004: 31). In the words of Akrich,
designers
...define actors with specific tastes, competences, motives, aspirations, political
prejudices, and the rest, and they assume that morality, technology, science, and
economy will evolve in particular ways. A large part of the work of innovators is that
of “inscribing” this vision of (or prediction about) the world in the technical content
of the new object. I will call the end product of this work a “script” or a “scenario”
(Akrich 1994; 208)
Akrich and Latour also suggested the concept ‘program of action’ to describe how technology is
designed to prescribe the actions of users and other actors. ‘Anti-programs’, then, describe
programs of actions which are in conflict with the program chosen as point of observation (Akrich
& Latour 1992: 261). This is important in relation to our case, because the development of Virtual
Worlds Architecture is still at an early stage, which means that there is a lot of ‘interpretative
flexibility’ with regard to the meaning of the innovation (Pinch & Bijker 1984). Currently, there is
no stable interpretation of what the innovation is or should be. Thus, we can say that
entrepreneurs of Virtual Worlds Architecture have competing visions about the innovation’s
program of action and these conflicting expectations can function as anti-programs to each other.
The concept of script has been employed to study the relationship between the imagined user and
the real users when the technology is implemented (e.g. Lindsay 2003; Oudshoorn 2003). In the
present paper, we are not interested in this relationship, but rather in the way the imagined user
is configured or scripted in the communication about the innovation. The idea is that the
entrepreneurs of Virtual Worlds Architecture configure use and users through their efforts to sell
their vision of the innovation and enroll actors in its ‘program of action’. An imagined user is co-
constructed with the rest of the program of action of the technology, and this form of innovation
communication has consequences for the further development and the viability of the visions of
future technological solutions. To paraphrase Oudshoorn, technologies will only become
successful if technological innovators configure identities of users in a way that will inspire future
users to perform these identities (Oudshoorn 2003: 210). In our case, however, the crucial thing is
that there is a lot of interpretative flexibility with regard to these future users, so entrepreneurs of
Virtual Worlds Architecture compete with each other about the creation of the most plausible
vision.
It has been argued that designers use a number of different inputs for imagining the user,
although they are rarely explicit about how they generate and integrate these representations into
...in management studies an accepted lesson is that most product innovations fail because of a lack of understanding of users’ needs. At the same time, it is also clear that such an understanding is hard to get; a merely increasing emphasis on market research itself does not lead to a better understanding and a higher probability of product success. Designers do not seem to seek relevant market information; even when they do, they often neglect relevant market information. (Schot & de la Bruhèze, 2003: 231)
In our perspective, the problem is not so much that designers or entrepreneurs do not seek to understand the user, but that there is no ready-made user to understand. An imagined user is a construct in the complex set of relations of expectations and socio-technical possibilities that constitute the innovation communication about Virtual Worlds Architecture. ‘Understanding’, or configuring, the needs of this imagined user is therefore a complex process, given that any change in the network of expectations might change the configuration of the user. Furthermore, the large interpretative flexibility and the competing visions about Virtual Worlds Architecture imply that there is not just one imagined user. In addition, it is not just designers, who imagine users. As Lindsay has argued, many actors involved in the process will imagine users and contexts for use:
I propose that “user representations” encompass many other imagined users, and that these user constructions are not built, and do not exist, in isolation. Each of the social groups involved with a technology throughout its life history, even those that are not directly involved, will have its own ideas about who and what the user is (Lindsay 2003: 32)
**The challenge of interpretative flexibility**
Innovators thus find themselves in a complex landscape of user representations, each of which relates to a specific interpretation of the technological innovation. For innovators, this interpretative flexibility serves as a potential problem, as well as a potential resource as they struggle to gain support for their own specific vision of the innovation. In so far as the interpretative flexibility works against stabilization of a technology, it may be problematic. In an analysis of innovation in WHO, van Kammen (2003) demonstrates how innovators face serious problems because their definition of ‘worldwide users’ is so unspecific that the interpretation of the innovation keeps changing. The simultaneous lack of stability in user configuration and technological vision reinforces each other and prevents stabilization of the innovation. In contrast to van Kammen’s example, interpretative flexibility can also be seen as a resource, because it allows different types of actors to have an interest in the innovation. With a semiotic approach, Woolgar analyzes the development of a new technology as text, and argues that the “text sells well if many different readers find a use for it. One might even go so far as to say that an author’s attempts to prescribe readings, to delimit ways in which the text can be read, is a sure recipe for disaster” (Woolgar 1991;73). According to Woolgar, it is in the interest of innovators to avoid a strict and narrow definition of the user of a technology, because this will delimit the number of actors prepared to be inscribed in its program of action. A user configuration which restricts the range of possible readings will not generate success.
According to Bijker & Pinch, interpretative flexibility is an integral part of the development of a new technology. Interpretative flexibility will be high in the early stages of an innovative process, but will decrease in accordance with the stabilization of the technology into a specific socio-
material artifact (Bijker & Pinch 1984). In the present paper, we will deal with ‘interpretative flexibility’ as something that poses a dilemma for innovators. Our study of Virtual Worlds Architecture takes place at a time without a clear trajectory for the development of the innovation, and, put crudely, innovators face the problem of whether they should seek to join or beat competing programs of action when they try to recruit users through innovation communication. It is one thing for social scientists to notice that interpretative flexibility diminishes as the innovation becomes more stable and entrenched into particular socio-technical networks. It is quite another thing for innovators to be in the midst of this flexibility and try to communicate productively in order to further their own program of action. In the present paper we focus on this strategic challenge.
Empirical material and methods: Through a community of first movers and early adapters
Innovative ways of communicating about spatial matters is nothing new to architects. They have access to a range of information and communication technologies through which they communicate design visions with other actors throughout the building process. Besides using paper and pencils, they produce auto-CAD drawings, foam models, cardboard models, fly-through illustrations, and other forms of visualization (Ewenstein & Whyte, 2009; Gänshirt, 2007; Yaneva, 2009). In practice, a lot of these technologies co-exist, and are continually combined with various emerging ICTs in an ad hoc fashion. Elsewhere, we have described how experiments with Virtual Worlds Architecture take place on various new media platforms (Plesner 2010; Plesner & Horst 2010). In this paper, we focus on activities relating to the online 3D social world, Second Life (SL), which we consider one type of innovation in the making, competing with other Information and Communication Technologies within the above described professional domain.
The point of entry into the empirical material was a rather close community of SL residents who often meet to discuss or experiment with architecture. This community came to our attention via the participation of two very active members in the online live debate show in SL, Metanomics, where they were interviewed about their experiences with, and opinion of, the use of Second Life for purposes of communicating about architecture. We conducted interviews with these two residents, and they helped establish links to corporations and institutions, as well as interview appointments with people experimenting with architecture in Second Life. This paper is partly based on interviews, partly based on material available at blogs and web pages, where SL is sought sold – both conceptually and economically – as a relevant place for working with architecture. The blogs were chosen because, through technical discussions and the mentioning of new projects, they articulate the promises and shortcomings of virtual worlds for use in architecture. Some of the interesting blogs which deal exclusively with virtual worlds were ‘Archvirtual.com’, ‘Primpushers’, ‘Metaversically Speaking’, and ‘Learning Inworld’. Other blogs belonged to users who experimented with virtual worlds in connection to actual construction projects, for instance that of University of West Australia. Some web pages belong to architectural companies that are driving forces in promoting SL for use in architecture (Crescendo Design and David Denton AIA), and some belong to companies that experiment with using virtual worlds in this way (Dedato designers and architects, Anche Chung Studios, Open Architecture Network, Hometta, Open Neighborhood, Queens Community Board, Coldwell Banker, Starwood Hotels). Interviews were
http://www.metanomics.net/show/archive111708/
conducted with 10 of the people involved in the projects discussed in these blogs and presented on these web pages.
Because we deal with innovators’ attempts to establish new programs of action, we do not consider it a methodological problem to enter this community via strong actors, and get connected to their network. On the contrary, given the nature of social media, this reflects how communities are build, and it enriches our study to follow the ways in which they link to one another, promote each other, and co-produce the hyping of possibilities and expectations to Second Life.
The research was conducted from late 2009 to late 2010, but also includes reports on some of the early experiments with SL, because they are still drawn into discussions in the community and serve as examples. This entails that the material both expresses some of the very early articulations of expectations to Second Life, and some of the later discussions of how Second Life is only one medium among others, and might benefit from ‘cross-breeding’ with those. We collected the material with the ambition of exploring how central actors articulate the selling point of SL, and we searched the material for articulations of promises and problems related to its usefulness for users of architectural communication. Much in line with Wilkie and Michael (2009), we have a focus on rhetorical patterns in accounts about virtual worlds architecture, with a particular interest in arguments concerning expectations about future use and future users. In the present context, an argument is defined as a discursive entity, which constructs a particular relation between problems and solutions in the effort to make an audience adhere to a particular representation of a situation (Horst 2010; Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca 1969). An argument is a prescription of how Virtual Worlds Architecture should work as a solution.
We have coded interviews, webpage texts and blog texts systematically with a focus on articulations of problems/solutions. On the basis of the coded material, we have had an inductive approach to the structuring of the material into three types of arguments that can be said to make up important programs of action. In the material, it was obvious that solutions were also problematized. The second half of the empirical analysis is therefore devoted to the analysis of anti-programs. This is not to suggest that the different programs and anti-programs are always easily distinguishable from each other, or always stand in clear-cut opposition to each other. In our understanding, ANT’s image of programs and anti-programs standing in front of each other, moving back and forth depending on the strength of their respective alliances, need to be softened by an analytical focus on the interpretative flexibility which allows for programs and anti-programs to take many forms. We will return to this discussion in the conclusion.
**Articulating the selling point**
Throughout the diverse empirical resources described above, we find that the use of SL for architectural design is promoted through roughly three different sets of arguments which create expectations of users in different ways. The first constructs SL as the place to be if you want to position yourself as cutting edge. The second constructs SL as a way to minimize the gap between an architect with spatial imagination and users without such skills. The third constructs SL as a means to tap into a pool of resources from various specialists. We will go through each of these sets of arguments in the following, discussing how each configures particular types of users.
**The ahead of the pack argument**
For some corporations using SL for the purpose of communicating about architecture, the rationale for doing so is constructed as a way of addressing the needs and wants of a technology savvy audience, which is supposedly already ‘out there’. Using SL becomes a way of catering to a sophisticated audience in an effort to create a distinguished business strategy. For instance, as Starwood Hotels launches Aloft, a second life hotel to be realized physically, they talk about “directing itself towards the new generation of travellers”\(^3\). And Coldwell Banker, a company using SL to market homes for sale, talk about “an entirely new pool of potential customers who embrace technology and collaboration”\(^4\). In this type of communication, the selling point of SL is its cutting edge way of exposing spatial matters, and the promise that such a virtual world platform allows various users who are ‘ahead of the pack’ to interact. This argument was typical in the early SL days, around 2007. Anyone who was present here would signal innovative communication and an ability to adjust in relation to audiences who were expected to have embraced this new communication platform.
What needs to be sold – economically – in these examples is not the virtual world representational ‘service’, but the company brand created by being present here, and – on longer terms – the products of this company. The ‘add on’ is free for users – an aspect which is clearly expressed in the case of the company Hometta. Hometta wants to present a virtual neighborhood to future buyers of real life houses. In this way, buyers can virtually explore real life architecture. Hometta is not creating a market within a virtual world and they do not talk about users as clients – users are called fans:
> We call it H-Town. Above all else, H-Town will help Hometta fans – and their family, friends and building professionals – further experience the Hometta designs in an interactive and exciting way. Through avatars, visitors will be able to explore, socialize with others through chat, and participate in self-guided tours of the Hometta houses. [...] And did we mention it’s free?\(^5\)
The virtual world functions as a service integrated with real life practices, and will be paid for through actual construction projects – but Hometta still has to convince users that it is worthwhile spending time on. They do this through referring to the interactive, open, and social element of H-TOWN, and through stressing that there is no extra cost attached to this service. They construct their company as meeting the demands of future users who expect the use of interactive, exploratory and social media.
The image of the tech-savvy audience is backed up with an opposition created between more conventionally minded people and ‘more advanced’, demanding users, who can expect this new media technology to allow them feel more at ease with like-minded people. Interestingly, the argument includes a reference to the promise of ‘being seen’ (through your avatar), presumably as
---
an advanced, sophisticated user. In a celebratory blog post about the H-town project, it goes like this:
If you’ve ever tried to build a house that isn’t ‘normal’ in every way, you’re already acutely aware of the push-back heard from builders, real estate agents, neighbors, and even friends and family. There’s an enormous pressure to conform, and the fear factor can be overwhelming [...] At H-Town, you will soon be able to gather the resources you’ll need, meet other like-minded people, and share your experiences or fears – which could be exactly what this new direction in residential design needs – a virtual support group, and a place to go and get inspired [...] Rather than flipping through the pages of a magazine, or browsing a website as a passive observer, H-Town gives you a presence – a place where you can see and be seen.
Related to this argument is the construction of yet another vision for users, namely the chance to develop new relationships through this new site for collaboration. The imagined future users, here, belong to a global elite of professionals. For instance, Dutch Match was an event meant to promote closer business cooperation between Dutch and South African designers. At the time, Peter van Dijk of Dedato (an architectural company in Amsterdam) held that
Our newest exciting project is in the virtual world of Second life and truly brings all our disciplines together where our architects become internet designers. For this project we are looking forward to meet South African architecture agencies and interactive media design agencies. The Dedato design lab in Second Life could be our mutual workspace.
The same type of articulation is seen in a specific project carried out by the Open Architecture Network, where it is suggested that the virtual worlds platform might put the global design team of the willing into contact with other passionate users of Virtual Worlds Architecture:
As an optional extension of our entry, we suggest the possibility of considering our team your ‘tele-architecture’ team, whereby the people who actually build and use this facility will be given access to a brilliant and diverse global community of members who are equally passionate about this cause.
When talking about global collaboration, the crucial point is that the new ways of collaborating across geographically dispersed places is seen as a progressive challenge to the traditional feature of architecture as bound to a geographical space. Note also that global is per definition positive, because it gives access to diverse actors, who can contribute to the creative process. ‘Passionate about the cause’ in this case function as a description of the frontrunners of the innovation, and their passion is a key resource for the innovative process. In this way, the program of action described in these arguments has similarities with our third group of arguments about open innovation described further below.
---
The revelation argument
SL is also constructed as a solution to the problem of non-architects not being able to understand traditional means of communicating architecture. As it is said about the promises of SL on the Crescendo Design webpage,
> If you can’t visualize what the home will look like by reviewing 2D plans and elevations, request or hire someone to sketch or illustrate your home in 3D. [...] Consider the cost of this service on balance with the risk of investing hundreds of thousands of dollars in a home that might look odd (it happens all the time!)⁹ To me, this is so much closer to the way we actually experience architecture in the real world, and represents the future of every kind of online architectural resource. Looking at a picture of a house is great, but experiencing a house in an immersive, realtime environment alongside others is much better ¹⁰
When SL is sold in this way, it happens though comparison with the insufficient, difficult to understand, traditional means of communicating architecture. Architect David Denton, who designed a shopping mall in SL for a client based in Cairo, tells a similar story to present SL as a necessary answer to customers’ difficulties of understanding space:
> Initially I built the space in 3d max and produced several renderings that I showed to the client. The client seemed to have difficulty understanding the space, as I had to admit, I myself was experiencing too. [...] This project needed to be experienced dynamically by moving through the space [so I decided, now is the time to try SL as a design tool]. Fortunately, the client had recently heard about the possibilities in the virtual world and had been told he could put his products (ceramics such as bathroom fixtures and tiles) into a virtual world catalog. This discussion led to an agreement to try SL as a design tool for the project¹¹.
With the expression ‘the project ‘needed to be’ experienced in a more illuminating way, Denton indicates that the promise of the medium is of such a kind that architects and clients simply must jump at this new possibility. Having succeeded in selling the selling point to clients, Denton is also able to tell stories which focus on moments of revelation of clients – i.e. the moments where clients really come to share architects’ idea of SL’s selling point. In a 2009 interview, he describes a client's reaction as follows: "he said to me, when he pointed to the screen: this does not lie"¹². In a 2010 interview with us, he explained how
> ...when we presented the project to the client we had a set of floor plans ready in case he wanted to see them, but we didn't draw sections or elevations. We didn't do what one normally does in a presentation. We just walked in and showed this model. [...] It
was a big success. We presented it to the client. He got it. He understood it. He loved it."\(^{13}\)
The architect himself had a similar kind of revelation, and "cannot imagine designing a building in any other way now."\(^{14}\) This story constructs SL as actually fulfilling the promises of SL, by solving some of traditional architecture’s communication problems. It also engages with the issue of SL’s relation to ‘reality’ by arguing that such spatial communication does not lie. The user, in the vision supported by this argument, is liberated from the misunderstandings and possible deception related to the problem of being non-professional.
In this argument, users are in need of the architect’s assistance. The user in need of assistance, however, can be imagined as more or less active in the design process. At the homepage of Crescendo Design, possible clients are promised an active role in the design phase:
> During virtual meetings, we can test different design ideas in ‘real time’ – meaning the changes we make appear on your screen immediately as they’re made. Clients and builders can even learn the simple building tools and make their own suggestions. The virtual model works great for testing out material choices, paint colors and eventually even landscaping options and furniture layouts\(^{15}\).
Users, it seems, have to be constructed as capable of using virtual worlds for architectural design, even if they are not tech savvy. It testifies to its interpretative flexibility that Virtual Worlds Architecture is supposed to cater to both technologically capable and incapable users – the innovation is expected to be useful on various levels, and demanding varying degree of expertise from users.
The open innovation argument
Another way of articulating the selling point is to establish SL as an obvious site for democratizing architecture, because actors other than architects are able to influence the early phase of a design project. This is closely linked to arguments regarding open innovation, where architecture may benefit from the creative potential of co-creation by a variety of actors.
Wisconsin-based architect Jon Brouchoud is among the most active promoters of “public involvement” and “user-generated architecture”. The vision expressed on the company’s home page says: "This could really make architecture so much more participatory when you can literally occupy buildings together before you break ground". The home page also contains critical statements about traditional architecture, pointing out that it "places so much emphasis on the hero architect that creates signature designs or masterpieces. In fact, that represents such a tiny fraction of what our cities really consist of"\(^{16}\). The arguments are framed within a vocabulary of rights, and thus construct SL as a democratic medium. It addresses its customers with the
---
\(^{13}\) Interview by UP, 30.1.2010
\(^{14}\) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SP1vr3zSVCE](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SP1vr3zSVCE). Accessed 29 Mar 2010
statement: “it is your right to have a clear picture of what it is that you are investing in”\textsuperscript{17}. These types of statements construct SL as the obvious choice of new communication technology for honoring the rights of users. When SL is constructed as a tool for participatory communication, users are constructed as being demanding and interested in participation. An example of this can be found in the description of the H-TOWN project, which refers to SL as meeting the perceived demands of future, demanding users:
\begin{quote}
As it becomes easier to import architectural CAD and BIM models in the months and years ahead, I think anyone building new construction will rightfully come to expect this kind of immersive visualization – and Hometta will clearly have a head start in providing some of the most advanced, interactive virtual experiences available online. But there’s so much more to it than visualization. Hometta is as much a community and resource for anyone interested in smarter houses as it is a place to buy blueprints. By offering their community a place to meet each other in a realtime, immersive environment, staged within a contextual framework of smart, modern houses, they’re leveraging H-Town as a ‘place’ or a catalyst toward instigating cross-cultural exchanges about residential efficiency and what ‘house’ means throughout the world.\textsuperscript{18}
\end{quote}
The vocabulary of democratic engagement (‘rightfully’, ‘community’, ‘public’, ‘grassroots’) is circulating in various presentations of the meeting of Second Life and real world construction projects, as in a project where SL was used to build a replica of a project building site. This project was created by
\begin{quote}
...an open and public community of over 40 contributors from around the world representing a wide range of disciplines and backgrounds. To facilitate this effort in design collaboration, we developed a grassroots ‘3D-Wiki’ technology that is built on the virtual reality platform: Second Life.
\end{quote}
In another city planning project, Second Life is similarly constructed as a site for collaborative design, and as coupled to democracy projects. Queens Community Board reports how New York Law School purchased an island in SL\textsuperscript{19}, to give people of the local community a chance to influence the design of a local park. They sell the Landing Lights Island in the following way: “In true wiki fashion, you will also be able to call up and edit other people’s models of the park. The design project will interface with a democracy project that will select and promote a winning design, with a prospect that the design will actually get built!”\textsuperscript{20} Users, in these visions, have to possess some design skills that can be employed in an online setting.\textsuperscript{21} In such articulations, focus is slightly removed from the innovative dimension of Virtual Worlds in relation to architecture, to emphasize their participatory potential more generally. Users, here, are then constructed as active citizens, engaged in local development projects or cultural heritage project (with a spatial
\begin{footnotes}
\end{footnotes}
dimension). And Virtual Worlds become the means to achieving participatory ‘wiki’ formats of public engagement.
A particular version of the argument is to stress that SL is the obvious place to collaborate creatively, a construction which establishes users as capable and talented – a pool of resources to be pulled together. Visions of collaborative spatial design are obviously shared by actors who are not architects or builders. For instance, when the Tech Virtual used SL for prototyping real world museum exhibits, this open innovation ambition was central:
...the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation funded this idea in 2007 [...]. Basically they asked, what if you could use Second Life to prototype exhibits with simultaneous input from experts and casual visitors as well? It opens up the creative process to a much wider talent base, and means that you can preview ideas before you ever even order any materials. It’s the open source method of development, applied to exhibits.”22
In a similar way, University of West Australia constructs SL as a site for creative explorations, where users’ contributions may result in innovative architecture. They have called for contributions to the so-called Flagship Challenge, an architecture competition in SL which should result in the design of “a building that captures the essence of creative engagement, which could possibly be built.”23 Such visions presuppose a huge mass of creative potential among users who are ‘out there’, a potential which can be harnessed through Virtual Worlds Architecture. The innovation appears as easily accessible, also to ‘casual visitors’ without technical expertise in relation to VWs.
Overcoming resistance – working harder to sell the selling point
The three identified types of argumentation for using SL in architecture can all contribute to strengthen each other, because they give different types of users different reasons for adopting the suggested innovative communication form. According to Woolgar (1991), the existence of overlapping storylines around an innovation should increase the chance of it being taken up. As such their differences should be an advantage and their co-existence should help the innovation spread. However, as our analysis will demonstrate, this notion begins to appear problematic when we look at the different types of resistance to the adoption of SL and how these instances of resistance are interpreted and give rise to efforts to overcome them. Meeting one form of resistance might very well mean that another is enforced. In order to demonstrate this point, the following section will describe how each of the three sets of arguments analytically constructed above as three different programs of action, meet different forms of resistance, and how they seek to fend off these anti-programs.
Resistance to the argument of being ahead of the pack
One type of resistance to overcome is related to disappointed accounts of technical shortcomings, which result in low quality aesthetics. When users talk about moments where SL shows its
technical limitations, it becomes hard to make the ahead of the pack argument. For instance, SL had been used to produce renderings of a public construction project, but the dimensions of the rendering posed problems. The client had constructed:
...a giant billboard approximately 60 feet tall and 400 feet long, awaiting renderings of the proposed project. The resolution of SL renderings on a laptop screen is one thing, but blown up to that scale is quite another. It remains to be seen whether this will have to be rebuilt in 3d max in order to produce sufficient quality renderings"24
Another obstacle to argue with is advanced users’ accounts about catching up with the fast development of newer social media and more advanced software. In the above, we noted that various actors used the ‘ahead of the pack argument’ for being present in Second Life. Of course, these types of actors are fast to move on. Developer of virtual property (and the first dollar millionaire in SL) Anshe Chung Studios articulated the selling point in the following way:
"Your first step into the Metaverse, an immediate virtual world presence, is an unequivocal message to your customers. [...] To be a leader of change (not merely a witness to change), you have to evolve with the virtual community at a pace that makes even the Web look static. Such a commitment to stay ahead of the pack [...]"25
However, although still operating in Second Life, since early 2007 Anshe Chung Studios has functioned as a proponent of other virtual worlds (e.g., IMVU, Frenzoo) of no interest for designers/architects employing 3D-modelling professionally. It also seems to be the case that if you want to make an "ahead of the pack"-program by choosing a new media communications-platform, FaceBook and Twitter are the ones you go for in 2011. Choosing Second Life was useful as a communicative positioning strategy roughly from Sep. 2006 to Feb. 2008, but then other technologies took the place as the signifier of technological frontrunners. Presently, we see promotional talk like this, in a hotel chain which was earlier among the first to move into SL: "Sync up and link up with other Aloft fans. Check out our blog for the latest a-list info, connect with us on Facebook, challenge your friends to a game of pool, grab our cool new Style at a steal video widget, follow us on Twitter and much more"26.
Accounts of technical challenges, and challenges from other communication platforms obviously make it increasingly difficult to argue that SL is the meeting point for architects and their clients if they want to signal that they are at the forefront of technological developments.
Resistance to the revelation argument
The program of revelation also runs into different forms of resistance that serve as anti-programs. In architectural education, for example, some have experimented with letting students design prototypes of houses, and describe resistance both as a matter of technologically challenged users, and as a matter of change resistant users. As a teacher expressed it, “Some students begged
for the option to build (physical) models instead, but I did NOT relent – and guess what... they discovered it wasn’t so bad!”27 The same teacher experienced that a student’s spouse would not allow that Second Life be used on their home computer, since it was perceived as being just a video game. And finally, colleagues conceived of SL as an extra work burden, and did not immediately appreciate that it has something extra to offer:
A lot of my colleagues [...] are overwhelmed by normal changes in CAD – our eventual migration to BIM for instance, that they would love to know more about it, but they have too much other on their plate. But I explain that this is not like BIM. BIM is replacing in a major way our existing way of doing work, whereas virtual worlds are going to be something adding a new dimension – something different, not replacing – not just a drafting or working drawing tool. It will redefine the role of the client, as you well know with Wikitecture.”
This is an example of how users do not support the argument that Virtual Worlds Architecture is a helpful tool, but rather produces counterarguments which position it as a complicated technical matter, that just makes it even more complicated for them to do their job. Actors express how argumentation and convincing is needed, very much because an experience of complexity overshadows the experience of a clearer understanding. There is also an issue of the distribution of burdens and benefits. Architects and designers, who are not frontrunners within the field of Virtual Worlds Architecture, will see themselves as having to bear the whole burden of complexity and learning how to use a new technological tool, while it is primarily the end-users of architecture who is supposed to benefit in the revelation-program. What was clearly the selling point of the innovation in this program, is turned into a problem, and the potential users also change status and become ignorant and conservative. The selling point of Virtual Worlds Architecture is sometimes hard to sell. In the words of a designer:
“Having spent over a year plus creating primary architectural structures in a virtual reality, I was recently asked is it really real what I do? It’s only on a screen, why would anyone pay you for what you do? They can only see it on a screen they can’t touch it or feel it?”28
A related issue is the problem – for architects – of articulating low expectations in relation to future clients’ enthusiasm and skill. In the words of an architect who is inexperienced with SL:
I am interested in exploring the possibility of presenting designs in a virtual world such as SL. I work with several CAD programs including SketchUp and would like to know if there is any provision for importing dxf or 3ds models into SL. I would hate to think that I would have to recreate the entire model using SL’s building system. I also can’t see some of my clients going through the process of getting SL memberships,
27 http://archvirtual.com/?p=1187 (Interview with Professor L.C. Weaverling of The Delaware Technical & Community College)
logging in, and learning the interface just to see their project. “Can’t you send it on a CD?”
The architect himself is trying to learn about the potentials of SL, in particular for mesh imports, and blogs about this on the aloft site. In principle, he is open and curious about it, but after a long response explaining what SL offers, he returns with a concluding comment, that SL so far mostly offers extra work to both architects and clients.
If we see the above as an anti-program, we see how this is part of the conditions of innovation communication, which makes it difficult to uphold the idea of a quick technological fix to problems of understanding space. These problems become translated into a new set of problems of dealing with the technology itself. Hence, articulations from this anti-program seriously disturb the programs described above.
Resistance to the open innovation argument
The open innovation argument runs into two types of resistance – besides the technical difficulties – namely an idea of actors’ inabilities to take up the innovation and give it a life after the architect leaves the project, and stories about decision-makers’ unwillingness to take seriously the results of co-creation and open innovation.
One type resistance to the argument of open innovation stems from stories about the problems of taking up and using virtual worlds once architects exit a given project. It shows that constructing users and convincing them that virtual worlds have something to offer to user-driven innovation do not make up the only challenges for architects who try to introduce such communication platforms. It is argued that they have to be taken up and used by others, also when the architect steps back. Only in this way, SL and other platforms can reach their potentials as something beyond a design tool:
Perhaps the ultimate test is not just how useful [SL] is for the architect as a design tool, but will it have a life beyond? The dream is for the client to use the final build for promoting the project and leasing tenant space [...] Right now, we are simply using it as a design tool. As such, we are constantly making changes, leaving behind more of a 3d sketch than a presentable product. If it does have a life beyond the design process, it will probably have to be rebuilt – a major concern.
So it is not enough that the architect plays around with virtual worlds, they also have to be appropriated, and this is constructed as a challenge for Virtual Worlds Architecture. Architects point out that SL is not merely a representational gimmick, useful in the design phase, but can be integrated in business strategies of clients after the construction of the building. For instance, David Denton, the architect behind the shopping mall in Cairo, had the ambition of delivering a 3D-model that his client could then use as promotional material to his clients (i.e., the shop-
owners who are to rent lots in the mall). This however, did not happen as the owner of the building met resistance to the use of Second Life in his social network.
As an example of the other type of resistance, the Landing Lights project ran into problems in relation to the Community Board which had put the project in motion. This became constructed as a clash between virtual worlds and real life. As reported in New York Times, the project was
...intended to solicit neighborhood input on how the park should be improved. And though the software is still being fine-tuned, [Thomas Lowenhaupt, chairman of Community Board 3’s Technology Advisory Committee] said, "in an ideal world, everyone would be able to save their favorites, and then everyone could vote, 'American Idol'-style, for their favorite park design." [...] Mr. Lowenhaupt has run up against some real-world obstacles. He had hoped to set up a special Landing Lights Park coordinating committee to smooth the process of designing the new park, but at a meeting on May 18, the community board rejected his proposal. [...] So, like many cyber-innovators before him, Mr. Lowenhaupt finds himself confronting a frustrating truth. "The difficult part," he said, "is the convergence of the real and virtual worlds [33]
The process can be interpreted as an instance of initial fascination with the possibilities of co-creation and open innovation afforded by SL, which becomes replaced with top-down steering when virtual projects have to be realized physically. We can identify a type of argument saying that the technical possibilities of inclusion may allow for creative bottom-up processes, but that they often go in ‘wrong’ directions. As such, these experiments with user-involvement through virtual worlds suffer from the same problems of allowing citizen voices to have an impact, as for instance engagement exercises in science and technology development more broadly (Hagendijk et al. 2005; Wynne 2001).
Concluding discussion
In this paper, we have chosen to expand the analytical focus beyond Virtual Worlds as sites for social and cultural innovation, to examine innovation communication processes which take place both in and around such sites. Here, the innovative aspect lies in the re-articulation of the potentials of Virtual Worlds. Rather than seeing Virtual Worlds as sites for social and cultural innovation, we have examined how actors try to sell them as such. From our perspective, ‘selling’ is not an activity which occurs once an innovation is a matter of fact, but is intertwined with processes of innovation. The empirical material showed us how selling points are not given, but have to be constructed and sold, both discursively and economically. Our analyses indicated what is implied in the central arguments for using SL (and other virtual worlds) for purposes of communicating about architecture. With each argument come different selling points, shifting configurations of users, and shifting implications for the production of new markets. We want to emphasize that such arguments are not put forward by particular users, but function as discursive resources that different actors may draw upon in combination. So for instance the ahead of the pack argument and co-creation argument may very well be drawn upon simultaneously, hence in practice the configuration and persuasion of users produce a set of circulating discourses which
---
form an important part of the backdrop of the wider adaption of the innovation: the technology should be adopted, because the tech savvy users rightfully want it, and they in turn, because they are tech-savvy, can also contribute creatively to the innovation process. We propose that the success of innovation is heavily dependent on such arguments about technology, users’ demands, democracy, and creativity because they serve as rhetorical ways of generating support for the particular program of action favored by the VWA entrepreneur.
We do not consider the arguments and types of resistance unique to Virtual Worlds Architecture or Second Life, but see them as resources drawn upon in other instances of marketing or strategic communication as well. Hence, it can be argued that what we witness in this material are converging business and innovation rhetorical patterns, which contribute to the blurring of boundaries between the inside and outside of Virtual Worlds.
On a theoretical level, the analyses have opened up for a discussion of ANTs concepts of programs and anti-programs. We believe that the focus on innovation communication in relation to technologies in the making have created a complex picture of interweaving arguments in the relation to the selling of Virtual Worlds Architecture. This leads us to suggest that we need to soften ANTs often quite sharp analytical division between programs and anti-programs (standing as two opposing sides gradually losing or gaining power) to see them as made up by elements that can switch sides and appear in new combinations throughout innovation processes.
**Interpretative flexibility and innovation communication**
Given our analytical focus, we are not talking about Virtual Worlds Architecture as an innovation in singular. Rather, the type of innovation we deal with here is the production of new combinations of more traditional communication processes and ones supported by Virtual Worlds. With this complexity also comes a variety of possible programs of action linked to creating selling points and configuring users – so as to stabilize the innovation in the future. We have mentioned how one perspective on interpretative flexibility is that it increases wider adaption or appropriation of an innovation. This suggestion follows the lines of thought of Woolgar (1991), as he has argued for looking at technologies as texts open to various interpretations. From this perspective, entrepreneurs of Virtual Worlds Architecture should be happy about the various conflicting programs of action, because they invite a diverse set of future users to connect to them. However, as we have seen, the large interpretative flexibility also leads to problems, because the different programs serve as anti-programs to each other. The revelation argument and the ahead of the pack argument run the risk of being directly in conflict with each other, which is the case when we look at the resistance each of them meet. Resistance to the revelation argument stems from the fact that Virtual Worlds are technically complex and difficult new media platform to work with. In this form of communication, any talk about tech savvy audiences who demand a constant adoption of new technology seems to make the resistance more well-founded. And likewise, communication towards tech savvy audiences in their capacity as front runners cannot include statements directed towards late adopters and skeptical users. Communicating about the simplicity of the technology might be exactly what drives the tech savvy audiences in the ahead of the pack argument away. On the basis of such analytical observations, we propose that empirical analyses of innovation communication offer a fruitful inroad to unpacking the inherent problems of interpretative flexibility of emergent technical innovations. The interpretative flexibility lies not
only in the different uses a given technology can be put to, or the different users inscribed into it, but also in the discourses and arguments which are intertwined with processes of innovation.
We also propose that attempts to delimit the interpretative flexibility of emerging innovations make up the strategic dimension of innovation communication. For innovators or entrepreneurs, recognition of the competing technological and discursive programs of action could be a valuable input to strategies of delimiting interpretative flexibility. In relation to Virtual Worlds Architecture, it seems necessary for architects to provide for particular readings of them in a strategic way. Importantly, strategic innovation communication should be about delimiting interpretative options, rather than determining them.
Suggestions for further research
On the basis of this paper, it is possible to point to at least two obvious lines of further research. One would be an examination of how Virtual Worlds Architecture is used and negotiated in practice, while the other would be a study of how Virtual Worlds and other technologies increasingly converge in mixed technologies solutions. Such a study could also pose the question of how the transition from singular technologies of play into communication platforms for professional usage is interwoven with processes of economization.
The analysis of arguments for using SL as a communication platform for architecture has pointed at possible problems of enrolling actors in practice. Further studies could follow the processes of actually enrolling actors in concrete projects. This could lead to insights about the challenges of introducing an innovation which both caters to users with supposedly high expectations in relation to professionalism, immersion, and participation and users supposedly unable to see through SL’s technical and aesthetic limitations and unable to understand the specificity of what this technology affords. Since architects’ customers often have limited practical experience with advanced technologies, the use of innovative communication formats in concrete projects seems to result in ongoing negotiations between innovative architects and customers about the rationale and advantages of virtual worlds. Given the complexity of Virtual Worlds Architecture as an innovation in the making, we cannot count on users to reach a final state of ‘skilled usage’. The ad hoc character of construction projects has enormous significance for this question. Most users never get the chance to acquire competence. Seeing how users become dependent on the VW architect clearly poses serious questions to the idea of using object-based virtual environments to empower the user in the design process. The question is whether this is a passing phase that will be over once the users become technically more skilled in virtual environments, or whether the asymmetry is a more fundamental aspect of innovation within communication forms such as virtual environments. A study of such dilemmas in practice could contribute to discussions of ideals of democratic communication in relation to new media technologies.
In the analyses above, we have mostly focused on arguments for using SL. Our analytical focus has restricted us from including numerous references to mixed technologies solutions, but future studies could follow the leads of various actors, who show awareness of the fact that it will become easier to import architectural CAD and BIM models in the months and years ahead, and – more generally – integrate various technologies to communicate about architecture. Mixed
---
technology communication platforms offer a new set of promises of grand solutions to solving information and communication problems in architecture. They are already in use, such as in the Cairo shopping mall project which aims at integrating 3DMax, Autocad, Maya, and Sketchup with Second Life. It is also the case for the numerous local community engagement projects that they integrate virtual worlds with other means of expression – as in the Landing Lights project mentioned above. Crescendo owner Jon Brouchoud, who is very active in commenting on the various architectural projects using a mixture of virtual worlds and other platforms, comments on this development in connection to a particular project:
What I find most interesting is their blended use of Second Life, a web interface and a Google maps page. In this case, residents can use Second Life to explore the virtual rendition of the neighborhood, but they need not learn the in-world building tools to express design ideas. Instead, they use an interactive web site that enables them to drag and drop icons, such as building elements, paving, landscaping, and more. They then ‘publish’ the map they’ve created, and it appears in the Second Life ‘gallery’ space.”
In contrast to the visions about Virtual Worlds Architecture analyzed in this paper, these visions of mixed technology solutions have fewer references to future users, possibly because they are implicitly conceived of as a restricted, exclusive crowd of tech savvy first movers. And given the very emergent state of mixed technology solutions, there is still very little to be sold. But future studies within this area should not neglect what is probably the only viable path of innovation in relation to advanced ICTs in architecture.
In such studies, it could be emphasized how innovation processes are not only intertwined with user configuration and innovation communication, but also with process of marketization (Çalışkan & Callon 2009, Callon & Caliskan, Work in progress). From the perspective of Çalışkan and Callon, marketization is a laborious process that consists of the assembly of actions, devices, materialities and economic knowledges. Compared to the framework of Çalışkan and Callon, this paper has placed particular emphasis on the role of communication in creating markets. It has done so by pointing to the fact that marketization happens at several levels in the cases of SL architecture. Ultimately, the architects are trying to market the idea of the physical building as a user-involved and democratized project through the use of innovative communication in SL. However, in order to do this marketization, the architects first have to market the idea of using SL as a communication platform. What might have looked as an innovative means to another end turns up to be an object for marketization itself. But to return to the framework of Çalışkan and Callon, the concepts of marketization or economization could direct the attention to the processes of turning social media designed to further social or cultural innovation, or conventionally coupled with passion or play, into products to be used innovatively in professional practices.
References
Ursula Plesner, PhD, assistant professor, Department of Organization, Copenhagen Business School
Ursula Plesner is an assistant professor at the Department of Organization, Copenhagen Business School. Her research focuses on the ways in which new Information and Communication Technologies impact processes of organizing work relations and communication flows. She is interested in the role of discourses and expectations in innovation processes, and draws on the sociology of science and technology to make sense of the complex interplay between technology, discourses and social organization. She has published in *Public Understanding of Science, Qualitative Inquiry and Journalism – Theory, Practice and Criticism*
E-mail: up.ioa@cbs.dk
Mailing address:
Ursula Plesner
Department of Organization, CBS
Kilevej 14A
2000 Frederiksberg
Denmark
Phone: (+45) 3815 2810
Fax: (+45) 3815 2828
Maja Horst is associate professor at Department of Organization, Copenhagen Business School in Denmark, where she conducts research within the area of Science and Technology Studies. She focuses particularly on research communication, public understanding of science and the organization and management of research. Among other places, she has published in *Social Studies of Science; Science, Technology and Human Values; Public Understanding of Science; and Science and Public Policy.* |
Profiles in Architecture
C o n c r e t e M a s o n r y A s s o c i a t i o n o f C a l i f o r n i a a n d N e v a d a
C M U
THIS ISSUE FEATURES THE WINNERS OF THE
2004 CONCRETE MASONRY DESIGN AWARDS
THE TEXT INCLUDES EXERPTS FROM THE ARCHITECTURAL FIRM’S DESCRIPTION OF THE PROJECT AND THE ACTUAL JURY COMMENTS DELIVERED BY JURY CHAIRMAN, LAWRENCE R. LIVERGOOD, AIA.
1st Annual Concrete Masonry Design Awards Banquet
Friday, October 15, 2004
The Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel
The Concrete Masonry Association of California and Nevada is proud to announce the event to honor and celebrate those who design and construct the pinnacle of form and function in the built environment.
This year’s projects exhibit the latest in architectural and engineering design, construction practices in the world’s most challenging market and sustainable design performance second to none.
Please join the Concrete Masonry Industry and friends in this tribute and take part in this important effort to highlight and promote great achievement in the highest and most admiral efforts of our society.
Sponsorships
Sponsorships are very important and make this event possible. Net proceeds from the event will fund Masonry Workforce Development Activities. Our industry Partners are those who contribute every day in the making of concrete masonry units and the important structural design elements of the built systems. Partner opportunities are $10,000 and include ten dinners, event and program recognition. Table Sponsors are $2,000 and include ten dinners and program recognition.
Sponsors as of July:
<table>
<thead>
<tr>
<th>Partner Sponsors</th>
<th>Table Sponsors</th>
<th>Table Sponsors</th>
</tr>
</thead>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>CEMEX</td>
<td>Thompson Building Materials</td>
<td>Calstone Company, Inc.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Lehigh Southwest Cement</td>
<td>ORCO Block Company, Inc.</td>
<td>RCP Block & Brick, Inc.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Company W. R. Grace Cement</td>
<td>Angelus Block Company, Inc.</td>
<td>Masonry Technology Incorporated</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Corporation California</td>
<td>Air Vol Block, Inc.</td>
<td>New Dimension Masonry, Inc.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Portland Cement Company</td>
<td>Basalite Concrete Products, LLC.</td>
<td>Masonry Industry Training Association</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td>Blocklite</td>
<td>Elementis Pigments, Inc.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
If you would like to be a sponsor for the 1st Annual Concrete Masonry Design Awards Banquet, please complete this page and send it with a check to CMACN at 6060 Sunrise Vista Dr. Suite 1990, Citrus Heights, CA 95610. Sponsorships must be received no later than September 15, 2004, for recognition.
Name: ___________________________ Company: ______________________________
Address: ___________________________ City: ___________________ Zip: ___________
Phone: ___________________________ Fax: ___________________
THE AUDUBON CENTER AT DEBS PARK
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
An urban environmental education center that brings nature to East Los Angeles inner-city children and families with few opportunities to leave the city and experience, learn and value nature, the Audubon Center at Debs Park is LEED Platinum-rated and embodies the Audubon Society’s environmental ideals, modeling sustainable design to the surrounding community and serving as a prototype for future Audubon centers.
**Jury Comments:** The sustainable features in this project are remarkable. The jury was especially impressed with the off-grid photovoltaic system, the storm water management techniques, and water treatment. These and other features all contribute to the well deserved LEED Platinum rating.
Concrete masonry is an essential part of the Center’s passive, energy-saving sustainable strategies. The typical exterior wall assembly exposes 8” ground-face concrete masonry units on the interior, with 2” of rigid insulation on the outer face, beneath a protective stucco finish. The light-colored CMU reflect daylight deep into the building. Its thermal mass takes advantage of the diurnal swing in temperatures in Los Angeles; excess heat soaked up by the mass during the day is released and can be flushed through windows at night. The exterior insulation reduces heat gain or loss directly through the walls and stabilizes interior temperatures. The concrete masonry unit grout mix developed especially for this project substitutes fly ash for 50% of the Portland cement, reducing water use, carbon dioxide emissions and landfill waste.
The ground-faced concrete masonry unit is a handsome and durable finish material, suitable for a nature center. The building plan and elevations are designed on a concrete masonry unit module. Most wiring is either concealed behind cabinets or in a furred wainscot, both to minimize conduit within the CMU, and facilitate future electrical work without exposing conduit in public rooms.
**ARCHITECT:**
EHDD Architecture
500 Treat Avenue, Suite 201
San Francisco, CA 94110
Charles M. Davis, FAIA
Principal-in-Charge
Glennis Briggs, AIA
Mark Mikes
Simone Goldfeder
Robert Aydlett, AIA
Greta Jones, AIA
Anne Timmerman
Design Team
**STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:**
Parker-Resnick Structural Engineers
**GENERAL CONTRACTOR:**
T. G. Construction Inc.
**MASONRY CONTRACTOR:**
Granstrom Masonry, Inc.
**BLOCK PRODUCER:**
ORCO Block Company
**OWNER:**
Los Angeles Audubon Center
LAKE VIEW TERRACE BRANCH LIBRARY
LAKE VIEW TERRACE, CALIFORNIA
Jury Comments: This project has excellent site orientation, with the long exposures facing north and south for the most beneficial solar control and daylighting. Attention to daylighting was carried through on the south side with solar shading at the roof and light shelves located mid-distant up the window walls.
Lake View Terrace Library is a 10,700 square-foot branch library and multi-use facility for the City of Los Angeles. The library includes a community room, environmental display gallery, and exterior courtyard. The program called for a LEED Platinum Certified building.
The plan responds to the community’s desire to reflect the “rancho” tradition of the region, with interior spaces organized around an open central courtyard. A main reading room stretches along an east-west axis and enjoys dramatic views of an adjacent park.
Built of durable concrete masonry, glulam beams, metal roofing, and wired and ducted for flexibility, it is designed for a “long life.” The library is a model of environmentally sustainable design. Anticipated energy use of the building is 40% more efficient than California standards. Building orientation and configuration, the use of various light control devices and spectrally selective glazing control heat gain and prevent glare, while maximizing daylight. Ninety-three percent of the building areas achieve target lighting levels without artificial light.
Eighty percent of the building is naturally ventilated. Arched forms and automated, mechanically interlocked windows enhance cross ventilation. Building integrated Photovoltaics provide fifteen percent of the building’s energy and maximize production during peak load periods to contribute to energy security. A landmark tower at the library’s entry, requested by the community, is designed as a passive cooling tower that uses prevailing
Concrete masonry construction is fundamental to the building’s passive cooling strategies. The mission white, burnished concrete masonry units are insulated on the exterior with stucco and exposed to the interior. The mass properties of the concrete masonry units serve to modulate interior temperatures, absorbing and storing heat during the day. Night ventilation purges and restores the heat sink capacity of the CMU’s in prepara-
Situated in Rustic Canyon, one of the most serene areas in Los Angeles, this 4,000 square-foot residence offers views of the canyon and gently sloping hillsides to the east. The house is effectively divided into two separate, but connected areas: a public pavilion with the kitchen, living room and dining areas; and a private pavilion containing the bedrooms. A glass-enclosed walkway bridges the two masses, taking optimal advantage of the location and surrounding landscape. A third mass includes a double cantilevered guesthouse resting on top of a studio, accentuating the breezeway and intimate arrival. Materials of burnished concrete masonry units, galvanized steel paneling, and glass complement the openness of the design and integration of the object-like forms on the site.
Special attention was given to choosing the concrete masonry units that would become the defining motif in this home. All textures, from craggy split face to sandblasted precision, and colors from pale white to warm gray were considered. The final choice, a custom fabricated masonry unit of white cement with burnished faces was selected for its unique beauty and its ability to play off the rustic nature of the site. To save cost, only the exposed face of the masonry unit was burnished. Scaled drawings of each CMU wall were color-coded and keyed to determine quantity and orientation of the burnished faces.
WARD LUU RESIDENCE
PACIFIC PALISADES, CALIFORNIA
Jury Comments: Not only does the concrete block provide functionality by anchoring the house to the site, but it also offers an aesthetic quality that the jury found very appealing. The block walls seem to enhance the views of the surrounding landscape by visually tying the interior and exterior together. The burnished block also provides a pleasant combination of texture and neutral color that offers a warm contrast to the dark floors.
The Ward Luu Residence uses concrete masonry units as both functional and design elements throughout the home. The CMU anchor the house, providing mass as the buildings emerge from the slope, and counterbalance to the cantilevered pavilions resting on top. On the exterior, the concrete masonry units also serve as a visual contrast to the steel cladding and landscaping. The motif is continued through the interior with the masonry units providing a warm balance between the dark stained wood floors and the white plaster walls and ceiling. In addition, the concrete masonry units highlight the connection between indoors and outdoors by continuing exterior walls and structural elements inside the home.
ARCHITECT
Marmol Radziner and Associates
12210 Nebraska Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90025
Leo Marmol
Ron Radziner
Managing Principal
Design Principal
Stephanie Hobbs
Brad Lang and Patrick McHugh
Project Manager
Project Architects
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER
KPFF Consulting Engineers
GENERAL CONTRACTOR
Marmol Radziner and Associates
MASONRY CONTRACTOR:
Clive Christie
BLOCK PRODUCER:
ORCO Block Company
OWNERS:
John Ward and Chan Luu
GRAND AWARD
RESIDENTIAL DESIGN
Jury Comments: Not only does the concrete block provide functionality by anchoring the house to the site, but it also offers an aesthetic quality that the jury found very appealing. The block walls seem to enhance the views of the surrounding landscape by visually tying the interior and exterior together. The burnished block also provides a pleasant combination of texture and neutral color that offers a warm contrast to the dark floors.
This 3,700 square-foot house is for an avid Kayaker and his wife. The house is located on a 4.5 acre lot, “river right” on the South Fork of the American River overlooking one of the best kayak runs in Northern California.
The first of three primary themes that are the embodiment of this project is that the house is built as close to the river as reasonably feasible (five feet above the 100-year floodline). Towards the river, the floor plan of the house focuses on two important kayak-related site features: the rapids and the launch.
The 25-foot high living room, constructed of earth-colored split face masonry units, faces upriver, resulting in an ever-changing tableau of kayaks and rafts drifting past, and the 35-foot high dining room clad in Douglas fir faces the owner’s private kayak launch.
The second primary theme for the owners was to make their house as durable as possible – to last beyond their lifetimes for the enjoyment of future generations. This meant a dramatic deviation from conventional construction techniques typical of the region, which tend towards wood balloon-framing. Instead, the house design employed details and trades-people more typically associated with non-residential applications. Structurally, the house is extremely robust: standard concrete masonry unit walls support a steel framework, metal decking, and a metal roof. Wet location casework is stainless steel (kitchen and bathrooms); and wet location floors and walls are limestone (bathrooms).
The third primary theme is that the owners not only wanted a durable house, they also wanted something that was an aesthetic statement about their environmental beliefs. In the house design, this is reflected in the straightforward use of sustainable non-environmentally depleting materials such as concrete masonry units, concrete, steel, etc., that are assembled in a “simple” way. Wherever possible joints in the house are exposed rather than concealed. This type of construction emphasizes the beauty of the construction process by revealing the craftsmanship of the structure itself.
The primary design considerations for construction of the new Angelus Block Headquarters in Sun Valley, California was to create a “signature building” showcasing the variety and scope of its own manufactured concrete masonry products, while creating a unique and comfortable office environment for a corporate headquarters. MCG Architecture designed a 10,000 square-foot concrete masonry building consisting of reception and customer service areas, open bullpen space, conference/training rooms, and perimeter private offices.
The exterior of the building was constructed using split-face block, with precision block used for decorative inset bands to highlight the entry to the building. Burnished block was used on many of the interior wall surfaces for its finished and clean appearance. The reception area and open bullpen areas are covered by a convex free-span roof, culminating in a 20-foot high, north-facing glass wall. The glass shear wall and clerestory windows wrapping the building on two sides, enhances the space with natural light. The most striking interior design feature is a six-foot high curving serpentine wall, constructed of burnished concrete masonry units in an ashlar pattern, which divides the public and private spaces of the open office area.
The private offices and related support areas line either side of the open office space, providing both ease of access to the open area, and acting as a buffer to the sun and site conditions. The exterior walls and windows of the private offices are detailed with metal canopies and concrete block fins to reduce heat gain and control views to the site.
**ANGELUS BLOCK HEADQUARTERS**
SUN VALLEY, CALIFORNIA
**Jury Comments:** The building is a billboard for masonry sales, which struck the jury as a smart thing to do for a block company. What better way to advertise your product than to display it so prominently in your own facility? The interior is a creative demonstration of the versatility of the material, while the building design challenges the perception of what a block company should look like.
The primary design considerations for construction of the new Angelus Block Headquarters in Sun Valley, California was to create a “signature building” showcasing the variety and scope of its own manufactured concrete masonry products, while creating a unique and comfortable office environment for a corporate headquarters. MCG Architecture designed a 10,000 square-foot concrete masonry building consisting of reception and customer service areas, open bullpen space, conference/training rooms, and perimeter private offices.
The exterior of the building was constructed using split-face block, with precision block used for decorative inset bands to highlight the entry to the building. Burnished block was used on many of the interior wall surfaces for its finished and clean appearance. The reception area and open bullpen areas are covered by a convex free-span roof, culminating in a 20-foot high, north-facing glass wall. The glass shear wall and clerestory windows wrapping the building on two sides, enhances the space with natural light. The most striking interior design feature is a six-foot high curving serpentine wall, constructed of burnished concrete masonry units in an ashlar pattern, which divides the public and private spaces of the open office area.
**ARCHITECT:**
MCG Architecture
18201 Von Karman Avenue, Suite 250
Irvine, CA 92612
Jeffrey Gill, AIA
Principal
**STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:**
JKL Associates
**GENERAL CONTRACTOR:**
Ed Grush
**MASONRY CONTRACTOR:**
Masonry Masters
**BLOCK PRODUCER:**
Angelus Block Company, Inc.
**OWNER:**
Angelus Block Company, Inc.
**Photography:** Diebold Photography
Where a solid wall once formed a barrier to the street, the new entrance to Prospect Sierra School’s Avis Campus in El Cerrito, California, greets students and faculty with an engaging concrete masonry curvilinear elevation that serves as a new neighborhood landmark.
The architects chose for the signature entryway TrendStone ground faced, large-scale masonry units (12” V x 16” H and 4” V x 16” H), because of its appearance as cut stone when laid in alternating courses of 4” and 12”. The offset, running-bond pattern joint was detailed with “raked” vertical joints and weathered horizontal joints to ensure the best water shedding, while still providing the “cut-stone” look. The curvature of the elevation posed special challenges as the wall moves along the street over large entry spans and window and deck cutouts.
Coordinating the colors of the masonry units with the existing school colors (orange-red) led the design and building team to seek out masonry units from aggregates more typically found in the Southwest. The manufacturer made special deliveries of eight different sample types in sufficient quantities from their yard in Arizona to allow the team to set up several large scale test assemblies, oriented as the façade would face the late afternoon sun.
The appearance of the details at the clear, anodized, aluminum-sheetmetal coping and window trim were carefully studied and considered by the team, which included the masonry subcontractor. As a finishing touch, the school’s art teacher provided the inspiration for the not-so-random layout of specialty cut concrete masonry units to receive over time a 4” x 4” fired clay tile from each graduating fifth grader as a symbol of their unique educational experience at Prospect Sierra School.
**Jury Comments:** The jury was struck by the creative approach to a seemingly difficult design problem. Although the expansion forced the building façade to the very edge of the street, the artistic use of masonry and wood appears to soften what could have been a very harsh edge, while utilizing every square foot of available space.
Where a solid wall once formed a barrier to the street, the new entrance to Prospect Sierra School’s Avis Campus in El Cerrito, California, greets students and faculty with an engaging concrete masonry curvilinear elevation that serves as a new neighborhood landmark.
The appearance of the details at the clear, anodized, aluminum-sheetmetal coping and window trim were carefully studied and considered by the team, which included the masonry subcontractor. As a finishing touch, the school’s art teacher provided the inspiration for the not-so-random layout of specialty cut concrete masonry units to receive over time a 4” x 4” fired clay tile from each graduating fifth grader as a symbol of their unique educational experience at Prospect Sierra School.
**ARCHITECT:**
Ratcliff
5856 Doyle Street
Emeryville, CA 94608
William J. Blessing
Associate Principal, Designer
Stephen Swarengen
Project Architect
**STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:**
Tipping Mar + Associates
**GENERAL CONTRACTOR:**
Oliver and Company
**MASONRY CONTRACTOR:**
Suer Masonry
**BLOCK PRODUCER:**
Trenwyth Industries
**OWNER:**
Prospect Sierra School
Photography: David Wakely Photography
The Living Desert Veterinary and Research Center in Palm Desert, California was designed to meet the present and future needs of The Living Desert’s 420 animals comprising 134 species. The center also cares for many injured animals brought in by the public – up to 1,000 per year. This 24,000 square-foot facility replaced an existing 900 square-foot animal care building. The harsh desert environment, security concerns, maintenance concerns and structural considerations were important design requirements of this project. The design solution addresses these concerns by providing a unique design, which incorporates a central surgery/treatment core area around which small animal wards, large animal wards, storage/support areas, and administration are located.
The exterior and interior materials are primarily concrete masonry, keeping long-term maintenance costs minimal. Buff colored precision single scored masonry units were used on both the interior and exterior of the building, along with banding of split face concrete masonry units of red-brown, struck only along the horizontal joint. Clerestory lighting allows direct daylight into interior treatment/recovery areas. A special environmental HVAC system was incorporated to separate foul odors from “clean areas,” while providing comfort to the building occupants.
The center is one of a very few of its kind in the country, offering an interactive experience to the public. Visitors are able to witness live and videotaped animal care procedures in the treatment and surgery rooms, which consist of one surgical area for large animals and one for smaller animals. Veterinarians and staff explain the procedures and interact with the public via microphones. The Special Care Unit features five large windows, allowing the public to view animals requiring specialized care. This facility not only incorporates the latest equipment and design elements for a veterinary hospital, but also has become an integral part of the zoo’s daily park tour.
ARCHITECT:
Urrutia Architects
165 Luring Drive
Palm Springs, CA 92262
Francisco J. Urrutia, AIA
Principal
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:
Knapp Structural Engineers
GENERAL CONTRACTOR:
Greg Scrivens
MASONRY CONTRACTOR:
John Barajas
BLOCK PRODUCER:
ORCO Block Company
OWNER:
The Living Desert
The program required a mixed use project, combining commercial office spaces for a talent agency with residential uses, in order to receive a fifty percent floor area bonus. Additionally, the zoning did not permit ground floor commercial uses. The proposed solution at the ground floor was to place four residential “Pied a Terres” with large covered patios facing a landscaped side-yard, and locate Innovative Artists Offices’ within a two-story volume at the second floor.
The building is located on Broadway in Santa Monica in a section that during WW II housed many small aircraft parts manufacturers located in Quonset huts that have all but disappeared. The building design is influenced by the neighborhood’s industrial history, with the curved roof paying homage to the Quonset hut. The industrial materials that were found on the typical building have been reinterpreted to provide an upgraded palette.
Burnished 8” x 16” concrete masonry units with a “mint” stain have been used throughout the building. The joints have been raked and finished, and charcoal colored spec mix mortar has been used to emphasize the joints. Since this was a wood-framed building, the ground floor used structural concrete masonry units, while the second floor was clad with 2” masonry veneer to match. All of the openings were detailed so that there would be no cut masonry units at any location.
Naturally weathering copper panels and steel trowelled stucco are combine with masonry to help articulate the building mass.
Jury Comments: The jury appreciated the daring application of block color in such a bold design. Mint green block may not qualify as a standard color, but it works well with the bronze panels, making the building quite unique and relevant for the agency that occupies
INNOVATIVE ARTISTS LITERARY + TALENT AGENCY
SANTA MONICA, CALIFORNIA
ARCHITECT:
DE Architects, AIA
1535 6th Street, Suite 101
Santa Monica, CA 90401
Don Empakeris, AIA
Principal
Russell Rocker
Project Manager
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:
Masoud Dejban Structural Engineer
GENERAL CONTRACTOR:
Becker General Contractors, Inc.
MASONRY CONTRACTOR:
Sam Van Construction
BLOCK PRODUCER:
Angelus Block Company, Inc.
OWNER:
Scott Harris
Innovative Artists Talent and Literary Agency, Inc.
Photography: Tom Bonner Photography
Toshi Yoshimi Photography
Announcing the “front door” to the Stanford Shopping Center, the new gateway building houses a premier restaurant and financial institution.
The design requirements for this project were to: provide a highly visible building with three important corners; use materials to convey elegance, quality and permanence; adhere to a tight budget through design flexibility and use of low maintenance materials; and provide a good fit within the context of Stanford.
A major element used to meet these requirements is concrete masonry, which is used both as a structural system and exterior finish, demonstrating CMU’s versatility as a construction and finish choice, as well as its capability to deliver the project on budget. Special modules of 4” x 16” x 8” smooth face concrete masonry units were custom colored, recalling the buff colored stone and masonry used to build the nearby Stanford University Campus. The horizontal mortar joints are deeply raked, while the vertical joints are struck flush to accentuate the horizontality of the single-story 10,000 square-foot building.
The efficiency of the structural wall enclosure allows the quality of large glazed openings and entrance elements of the facades to be enhanced with complementary materials. The building design is highlighted by a glass corner “tower” rising 24 feet with a clerestory “lantern” marking the major intersection. Crisp aluminum windows and shading devices read light and transparent in contrast to the solid mass of exterior masonry bearing walls. Integrally colored concrete columns supporting steel canopies create arcades at the south facade to announce the building’s entrances and provide a shaded outdoor dining area next to the landscaped garden setting.
A NEW GATEWAY BUILDING
PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA
Jury Comments: The building is nicely scaled and detailed. As a gateway to a shopping center, the quality of the design gives the shopper a good first impression and sets a high level of expectation for the shopping experience. Overall, the jury found the project to be very skillfully done.
Announcing the “front door” to the Stanford Shopping Center, the new gateway building houses a premier restaurant and financial institution.
The design requirements for this project were to: provide a highly visible building with three important corners; use materials to convey elegance, quality and permanence; adhere to a tight budget through design flexibility and use of low maintenance materials; and provide a good fit within the context of Stanford.
A major element used to meet these requirements is concrete masonry, which is used both as a structural system and exterior finish, demonstrating CMU’s versatility as a construction and finish choice, as well as its capability to deliver the project on budget. Special modules of 4” x 16” x 8” smooth face concrete masonry units were custom colored, recalling the buff colored stone and masonry used to build the nearby Stanford University Campus. The horizontal mortar joints are deeply raked, while the vertical joints are struck flush to accentuate the horizontality of the single-story 10,000 square-foot building.
The efficiency of the structural wall enclosure allows the quality of large glazed openings and entrance elements of the facades to be enhanced with complementary materials. The building design is highlighted by a glass corner “tower” rising 24 feet with a clerestory “lantern” marking the major intersection. Crisp aluminum windows and shading devices read light and transparent in contrast to the solid mass of exterior masonry bearing walls. Integrally colored concrete columns supporting steel canopies create arcades at the south facade to announce the building’s entrances and provide a shaded outdoor dining area next to the landscaped garden setting.
ARCHITECT:
ELS Architecture and Urban Design
2040 Addison Street
Berkeley, CA 94704
Geno Yun, AIA
Associate Principal/Project Architect
Carol Shen, FAIA
Resource Principal
Alice Cheng
Christopher Jung
Design Team
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:
RMJ & Associates
GENERAL CONTRACTOR:
Devcon Construction
MASONRY CONTRACTOR:
John Jackson Masonry
BLOCK PRODUCER:
Calstone Company, Inc.
OWNER:
Stanford Management Company
The building is part of a new master plan created for Orthopaedic Hospital, a non-profit downtown medical campus. This 40,000 square foot, 2-story facility with a basement accommodates outpatient medical services including 14 exam rooms, a casting room, four digital imaging rooms, waiting rooms, as well as financial, administrative and other support spaces, primarily serving women and children. After records are processed the patient receives complete treatment and state-of-the-art imaging services in a fully contiguous outpatient clinic space on the second level, allowing efficient delivery of care in a comfortable, accessible setting.
The building is part of a new master plan created for Orthopaedic Hospital, a non-profit downtown medical campus. This 40,000 square foot, 2-story facility with a basement accommodates outpatient medical services including 14 exam rooms, a casting room, four digital imaging rooms, waiting rooms, as well as financial, administrative and other support spaces, primarily serving women and children. After records are processed the patient receives complete treatment and state-of-the-art imaging services in a fully contiguous outpatient clinic space on the second level, allowing efficient delivery of care in a comfortable, accessible setting.
The existing campus architecture is predominantly 1960’s modern in character. The new Outpatient Medical Center is designed to become an integral part of this campus and shares a newly created vehicular turnaround and landscaped yards with existing campus buildings. It recalls the horizontal nature, proportions and color of the 1960’s architecture, reinventing it and creating a contemporary, pedestrian-scaled, welcoming facility. With the introduction of horizontally banded exposed burnished concrete masonry units in this facility design, the campus material palette is enriched and enlivened.
Prominently sited at a busy freeway off-ramp leading into downtown Los Angeles, the Outpatient Medical Center is the first completed phase of development in an overall effort to revitalize the local neighborhood. Other adjacent projects include a new medical magnet high school in collaboration with the Los Angeles Unified School District and facility improvements at the already established LA Trade Technical College. The new building is integral to the Orthopaedic Hospital campus transformation, creating a legible focal point for public, social and community services, and continuing the mission-related function of the campus.
**ORTHOPAEDIC HOSPITAL OUTPATIENT MEDICAL CENTER**
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
**Jury Comments:** The jury was intrigued with the blend of masonry and metal building panels in such a modern design. The result appears to be a building that complements, rather than copies, the modern building styles that surround the project site.
The jury was intrigued with the blend of masonry and metal building panels in such a modern design. The result appears to be a building that complements, rather than copies, the modern building styles that surround the project site.
**ARCHITECT**
R.L. Binder, FAIA Architecture & Planning
7726 W. 81st Street
Playa del Rey, CA 90293
Rebecca L. Binder, FAIA
Kim A. Walsh, AIA
Principals
**STRUCTURAL ENGINEER**
Brandow & Johnston Associates, Structural Engineers
**GENERAL CONTRACTOR:**
Matt Construction
**MASONRY CONTRACTOR:**
Masonry Technologies, Inc.
**BLOCK PRODUCER:**
Angelus Block Company
**OWNER:**
Orthopaedic Hospital, Los Angeles
The public utility company identified significant increases in demand for training of technical and performance support personnel and the need for a new training facility.
Early feasibility studies had assumed a single story facility. A design workshop was conducted with the user groups, producing a series of viable design options. A 47,500 square-foot, two-story solution was selected, as it proved more cost effective and decreased impact on existing site facilities and infrastructure.
Inspired by the surrounding electrical substations, towers and high-voltage power lines, the building forms and elements for this new training facility provide a unique environment on the crest of a mesa overlooking Mission Valley. Essential indoor/outdoor instructional areas, externalized circulation and articulated interior functions, create physically discrete operational zones. The design solution is tailored specifically to short and medium term needs, but is respectful of long-term corporate demands for flexibility.
Concrete masonry units in a combination of natural colors and multiple surface treatments form the building volumes and reflect the hues and textures of the physical context while ensuring a minimization of maintenance. Building elevations are constructed with either a single color split face block, or as a random speakle pattern with three colors of both split face and precision block. Colors used are sourdough, wheat and red-brown. The palette is completed with the colors and textures of the rugged landscape and the contrast of the exposed steel structure.
Integration of the new training facilities with the existing context, and a need for economy reveals an expressive industrial aesthetic.
Jury Comments: The scale has been broken down into nicely proportioned building elements, which together with creative blending of block color and texture, draws your attention away from the fact that the building is over 47,500 square feet in size.
SDG&E MISSION SKILLS TRAINING FACILITY
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
ARCHITECT: Austin Veum Robbins Partners 600 W. Broadway, Suite 200 San Diego, CA 92101
Randy Robbins, AIA Ralph Linder, AIA Claudia Salazar Edward Lynch Design Team
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER: Envision Engineering
GENERAL CONTRACTOR: Reno Contracting
MASONRY CONTRACTOR: Dittmann Masonry, Inc.
BLOCK PRODUCER: ORCO Block Company
OWNER: San Diego Gas and Electric
Jury Comments: The scale has been broken down into nicely proportioned building elements, which together with creative blending of block color and texture, draws your attention away from the fact that the building is over 47,500 square feet in size.
This project seeks to integrate into the existing Palm Desert Community Presbyterian Church campus by mediating between the 1968 concrete and glu-lam sanctuary and the Santa Rosa Mountains. To this end, concrete masonry units were used to establish both color and form for the building. The concrete masonry unit base consists of alternating bands of 12” deep burnished CMU and 13” deep shop-blast CMU. These alternating depths and finishes of concrete masonry create a heavily rusticated and shadowed base onto which the classroom and auditorium spaces are positioned. These volumes, arranged around a central corridor, push to the edge for their light source and pull away to create elevated planters. The roof lines were lifted towards the north to provide additional light and views for the classroom spaces. The roof to the far-east enclosing the auditorium was lifted to create a visual link to the sweeping roof of the existing sanctuary, while providing an acoustically sound interior.
Included in this 26,000 square foot, two-level building are eight new classrooms, an intimate 85-seat fine arts auditorium, a multi-purpose room (with stage and food preparation room) able to accommodate a 350 person banquet, praise services, or basketball, a youth fellowship room, library/gathering space, media room, volunteer room, computer room, 2,000 plus square feet of storage, and meeting room and offices for four staff members. Within a constrained site, the project was able to more than double the church’s total square-footage and provide an additional 25 new parking spaces.
Located in the Civic Center of Santa Clarita, California, Fire Station 126 provides not only the fire service for this city, but also serves as the North Operations Bureau for the Los Angeles County Fire Department. Designed as a main headquarters, it includes accommodations for a battalion chief, ten firefighters and paramedics, as well as a deputy chief and staff.
Architectural elements are coordinated to provide the scale and stature of a true civic building. A mix of colored burnished concrete masonry units, terra cotta roof tiles and colored plaster have been combined to form a visually appealing and distinctive civic structure. The design conveys a high level of sensitivity to its surroundings, while taking advantage of the concrete block as a durable interior finish.
Located in the Civic Center of Santa Clarita, California, Fire Station 126 provides not only the fire service for this city, but also serves as the North Operations Bureau for the Los Angeles County Fire Department. Designed as a main headquarters, it includes accommodations for a battalion chief, ten firefighters and paramedics, as well as a deputy chief and staff.
Architectural elements are coordinated to provide the scale and stature of a true civic building. A mix of colored burnished concrete masonry anchors the building walls, colored plaster provides an accent and the terra cotta tile roof relates to the community theme.
Station offices and other active areas are separated from quiet dormitory areas by the drive through apparatus room. This room has an exposed steel structure, mechanical ducts, diesel exhaust system and suspended light fixtures, with electric bi-fold doors at each end. Large windows and skylights provide ample daylight for all building areas. In the dormitory, sleeping cubicles and single bathrooms assure privacy.
Color is a recurring theme in the city of Santa Clarita, for commercial, residential and civic buildings as well. Throughout the Fire Station 126 project, color is used as a link to the surrounding community with a 25% mix of burnished concrete masonry, in tones of red, gray, yellow and green, assembled in a random pattern established between the mason and architect. Masonry was exposed wherever possible: exterior wall base, structural columns and walls, entry tower and interior bearing walls, expressing architectural continuity inside and out. In this important civic project, colored concrete masonry units have been used in a unique way to provide a permanent, distinctive character within the Civic Center context.
Jury Comments: A mix of colored burnished concrete masonry units, terra cotta roof tiles and colored plaster have been combined to form a visually appealing and distinctive civic structure. The design conveys a high level of sensitivity to its surroundings, while taking advantage of the concrete block as a durable interior finish.
ARCHITECT:
William Loyd Jones, Architect
723 Ocean Front Walk
Venice, CA 90291
William Loyd Jones
Principal
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:
Harold Epstein & Associates
GENERAL CONTRACTOR:
Select Construction
MASONRY CONTRACTOR:
Nibblink Masonry
BLOCK PRODUCER:
Angelus Block Company, Inc.
OWNER:
County of Los Angeles Fire Department
Photography: Art Gray
El Cerrito Middle School is an innovative elementary-to-middle school conversion project that provides new joint-use facilities, while integrating and reorganizing the existing site and buildings.
Located in Corona, California, the terraced 13.65 acres existing school site was formerly occupied by an elementary school. The site is bordered by a masonry church to the east, El Cerrito Road to the south, Rudell Road to the north, and an undeveloped property to the west.
Life cycle requirements dictated the development of this “middle” school facility utilizing concrete masonry unit construction. Functionally, the campus organization was completely reversed with the main entry now placed directly on El Cerrito Road versus Rudell Road.
The administration office was strategically located to provide this public facility with the public presence it deserves, while ensuring proper supervision along the front of the school. Other buildings include a staff lounge, serving kitchen, lunch shelter, fitness center, gymnasium/multi-purpose room, locker rooms, a two-story science center and a media/library center.
To minimize life cycle costs and reduce day-to-day maintenance, exterior walls were constructed of contrasting bands of durable precision smooth face concrete masonry units. Hollow metal door and window frames with energy efficient glazing were also used to ensure continuity of the building envelope. Interior walls were painted a variety of colors that reflect the energy and excitement of students and staff. Other interior concrete masonry surfaces were left exposed with the alternating color bands of tan and red, accentuating the exterior finishes as part of a comprehensive color scheme.
**EL CERRITO MIDDLE SCHOOL**
**CORONA, CALIFORNIA**
*Jury Comments:* The jury was impressed with the design solution that not only converted an elementary school to a middle school, but also reversed the orientation of the campus by relocating the main entry to the opposite side of the block. The design incorporates a combination of concrete masonry units and steel canopy elements to create a mixed use facility with a public presence, while maintaining supervision and control of the school campus.
**ARCHITECT:**
WLC Architects, Inc.
10470 Foothill Blvd., Tower Suite
Rancho Cucamonga, CA 91730
Glenn Ueda, AIA
Principal in Charge
José Vallarta
Project Manager
Magdalena Suen
Team Member
**STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:**
K. B. Leung and Associates, Inc.
**CONSTRUCTION MANAGER:**
Douglas Barnhart
**MASONRY CONTRACTOR:**
Kretschmar and Smith, Inc.
**BLOCK PRODUCER:**
ORCO Block Company, Inc.
**OWNER:**
Corona-Norco Unified School District
This three-story 71,000 square-foot public school was designed in tandem with a major redevelopment in the downtown core of a growing city. In addition to facilities for education, the school provides open recreation space and a multi-purpose hall for community use. The Community Redevelopment Agency called for a more substantial building than the School District’s budget would provide. Concrete masonry was therefore chosen as a durable, affordable material to relate the school to its civic context, while distinguishing it from its residential neighbors. The burnished concrete masonry units provide a tough, yet finely-textured base that is appropriate to an elementary school.
The custom-colored concrete masonry units were chosen in neutral grey and warm ochre tones with carefully selected aggregates. Grouped in alternating rhythms, they provide richness and variety, while modulating the scale of the building elements. The academic wing uses both colors, in counterpoint to special pieces, such as the multipurpose room and stair tower, which are defined by one tone.
Within its grid of uniform dimensions, the field of concrete masonry units is punctuated with an array of openings, trellises, canopies, and balconies to give identity and highlight crucial elements. Large and small windows facilitate viewing by children, and are framed with bright colors that enhance the play of materials.
Concrete masonry becomes an important architectural and tactile learning tool for children. Standing next to the CMU, they can measure themselves, thus under-
Lake View Terrace Library is a 10,700 square-foot City of Los Angeles branch library and multi-use facility, located in the San Fernando Valley within the Hansen Dam Recreation Area.
The library includes a community room, environmental display gallery, and exterior courtyard. A spacious main reading room stretches along the east-west axis and enjoys dramatic views of the park to the south. The building plan responds to the community’s desire to reflect the “rancho” tradition of the region, with interior spaces organized around an open central courtyard.
The library design is the culmination of community workshops, presentations and reviews that brought standing-room-only crowds to local community rooms and city board meetings for two years. Its public meeting room functions on an independent schedule and is now a venue for similar workshops and other community meetings.
Tiles made by area Fenton School students and their families were composed into a mosaic wall in the library’s courtyard that celebrates and records the history of the region.
The program called for a LEED Platinum building, and the design emphasizes reduced energy and resource use, healthy interiors and ample daylighting. Built of durable concrete masonry, glu-lam beams, metal roofing, and wired and ducted for flexibility, it is designed for a “long life.” Concrete masonry columns of standard CMU support exterior trellises and the mission white, burnished concrete masonry walls, exposed to the interior, use the mass properties of the concrete masonry to modulate interior temperatures.
Jury Comments: The jury was pleasantly surprised at the high level of design quality that was incorporated into this LEED Platinum Certified building. The interior spaces appear comfortable and inviting, while the use of concrete masonry contributes to a 40% higher efficiency rating than California standards require.
Lake View Terrace Library is a 10,700 square-foot City of Los Angeles branch library and multi-use facility, located in the San Fernando Valley within the Hansen Dam Recreation Area.
The library includes a community room, environmental display gallery, and exterior courtyard. A spacious main reading room stretches along the east-west axis and enjoys dramatic views of the park to the south. The building plan responds to the community’s desire to reflect the “rancho” tradition of the region, with interior spaces organized around an open central courtyard.
The library design is the culmination of community workshops, presentations and reviews that brought standing-room-only crowds to local community rooms and city board meetings for two years. Its public meeting room functions on an independent schedule and is now a venue for similar workshops and other community meetings.
Tiles made by area Fenton School students and their families were composed into a mosaic wall in the library’s courtyard that celebrates and records the history of the region.
The program called for a LEED Platinum building, and the design emphasizes reduced energy and resource use, healthy interiors and ample daylighting. Built of durable concrete masonry, glu-lam beams, metal roofing, and wired and ducted for flexibility, it is designed for a “long life.” Concrete masonry columns of standard CMU support exterior trellises and the mission white, burnished concrete masonry walls, exposed to the interior, use the mass properties of the concrete masonry to modulate interior temperatures.
Jury Comments: The jury was pleasantly surprised at the high level of design quality that was incorporated into this LEED Platinum Certified building. The interior spaces appear comfortable and inviting, while the use of concrete masonry contributes to a 40% higher efficiency rating than California standards require.
This small addition to Crafton Hills College needed to live up to a large reputation. Stuart Williams, a prominent Palm Springs architect, originally designed Crafton Hills College in the 1970’s. The campus is constructed from cast-in-place concrete creating a very consistent and cohesive design, and a tough act to follow. Cost was prohibiting the use of concrete as a design material. Several concrete additions have been constructed over the years with lesser degrees of success, so we wanted to find a material that would complement the original structures and was also affordable to use. Our solution was to use 4” custom colored precision concrete masonry units and an adherence to the scale and proportions of the existing campus.
The project needed to consolidate the campus’ student services functions, but ultimately is to be converted to a classroom building. Another important issue was to provide an accessible route from the two campus levels. We designed a bridge that connects this project to the existing campus fabric, allowing access to an elevator, as well as a gently sloping concrete path.
As it was important for the Community College District to utilize maintenance free materials, the concrete masonry units received a medium sandblast and sealer coat. Other building components consist of anodized aluminum panels and factory coated steel. This small gesture communicates well with the older structures despite a material language barrier.
ARCHITECT:
Thomas Blurock Architects
720 West 17th Street, Unit C
Costa Mesa, CA 92627
Thomas Blurock, AIA
Principal
Kevin S. Fleming, AIA
Principal
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:
Ove Arup and Partners
GENERAL CONTRACTOR:
Hinkley and Associates, Inc.
MASONRY CONTRACTOR:
RC Tile
BLOCK PRODUCER:
Angelus Block Company
OWNER:
San Bernardino Community College District
Cameron Park Community Center and Gymnasium is located in a small neighborhood park in West Covina. The previous 1960’s facility suffered from deterioration and the inability to support community programs. The new community center design has been responsive to a public input process that has included community center design workshops, committee meetings, planning and City Council meetings.
The project includes an entry lobby with registration desk and lounge area, a youth playroom with an adjacent outdoor events patio and catering kitchen, a double gymnasium divisible into two full-size basketball or volleyball courts, bleachers and storage rooms, and men’s and women’s toilet rooms with locker changing areas.
Concrete Masonry was selected as the primary building material for its strength and durability. Smooth face concrete masonry units were used on all interior walls, where it is most appropriate for the high-bay gymnasium walls. Bands of alternating colors and textures created by the use of smooth face and split face concrete masonry units establish an aesthetic appearance highlighted by carefully placed lighting and reflected in the compatible finish and furniture color selections.
An effort has been made to minimize the building scale to the street, to create a park-oriented entrance to preserve the existing tree canopy, and to enhance existing walkways/parkways with decorative paving, new planting, and dramatic lighting. The result is an overwhelmingly popular destination for after school and weekend youth activities.
ARCHITECT:
Dougherty + Dougherty Architects, LLP
3194 D Airport Loop
Costa Mesa, CA 92626
Betsey Olenick Dougherty, FAIA
Principal
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:
KPFF Consulting Engineers
GENERAL CONTRACTOR:
Bernard’s Brothers Construction
MASONRY CONTRACTOR
Design Masonry, Inc.
BLOCK PRODUCER
ORCO Block Company
OWNER:
City of West Covina
The Diablo View Middle School is a small campus originally constructed in 1991 at the foot of the Mt. Diablo State Park. The original design, by the same architect, established the aesthetic of masonry construction, reflecting the community’s pride in its agrarian heritage. The design follows multiple cues established by the existing middle school campus. Masonry walls and metal roofs, along with the white trim, are the main elements establishing the rural feel. The gymnasium incorporates a hip roof with four masonry towers at the corners connected by a single large truss at each side. A continuous band of translucent panels follows the trusses flooding the gymnasium with natural light. For most of the day, the lights can remain off due to the natural light. The use of integrally colored concrete masonry throughout the facility’s interior and exterior gives the building its warmth and, more importantly for a school facility, it provides very low maintenance and high durability. The interior use of masonry is a critical feature of the locker shower complex, the community rooms and ancillary facilities.
The Diablo View Middle School is a small campus originally constructed in 1991 at the foot of the Mt. Diablo State Park. The original design, by the same architect, established the aesthetic of masonry construction, reflecting the community’s pride in its agrarian heritage. The design follows multiple cues established by the existing middle school campus. Masonry walls and metal roofs, along with the white trim, are the main elements establishing the rural feel. The gymnasium incorporates a hip roof with four masonry towers at the corners connected by a single large truss at each side. A continuous band of translucent panels follows the trusses flooding the gymnasium with natural light. For most of the day, the lights can remain off due to the natural light. The use of integrally colored concrete masonry throughout the facility’s interior and exterior gives the building its warmth and, more importantly for a school facility, it provides very low maintenance and high durability. The interior use of masonry is a critical feature of the locker shower complex, the community rooms and ancillary facilities.
The facility’s main entry is an open-air pavilion that is oriented towards the quadrangle of the existing campus. After school hours and on weekends, the facility is accessed opposite the campus to avoid public entry to the non-public campus buildings. The inherent constant academic and community demands of this facility highlight the need for a material as accommodating and forgiving as integral colored concrete masonry.
ARCHITECT: Deems Lewis McKinley
12 Gough Street
San Francisco, CA 94103
Erwin F. Lee, AIA
Principal
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER: Deems Lewis McKinley
GENERAL CONTRACTOR: Sierra Bay Contractors, Inc.
MASONRY CONTRACTOR: E & S Masonry
BLOCK SUPPLIER: Basalite Concrete Products, LLC
OWNER: Mt Diablo Unified School District
The $7 million UCLA Plant Growth Center introduced a new building typology by creating laboratory conditions within commercial greenhouse technology for advanced research of plant physiology, including genetic study of nutraceutical biology.
The 20,000 square-foot facility is organized into two floors. The top floor houses the main entrance, an educational greenhouse, a headhouse for the preparation of greenhouse material and six independent research greenhouses organized on either side of a central hallway. Each of the six research greenhouses is an independent laboratory environment using a dedicated air handling system that can be controlled either automatically or manually and monitored off-site. The control system operates growth lights, retractable wall and ceiling curtains, roof vents and supply air temperature and velocity to allow flexible growing conditions for a wide variety of plant types and experiments. Because some research in the UCLA Plant Growth Center occurs at a genetic level, a precise degree of control over these conditions is required. The design process utilized computation fluid dynamics (CFD) to study various airflow options within the research greenhouses to achieve ideal growing conditions involving a consistent laminar flow of air across the plant canopy. An envelope of laminated and insulated glass on low masonry walls encloses the second floor. Masonry is used as a base to distinguish support spaces below in the first floor.
Located in the northeast corner of UCLA’s acclaimed Mildred Mathias Botanical Gardens, the design is sensitive to its garden setting through the rustification of split-faced concrete masonry units, mixed into precision CMU walls. The walls act as both seismic shear and retaining structure. Sensitive about its public exposure, the university desired a quiet presence and direct expression for the UCLA Plant Growth Center. The design achieves this through articulation of the building massing into twelve linear bays to compliment the roofline.
**ARCHITECT:**
Paul Murdoch Architects
5150 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 504
Los Angeles, CA 90036
Paul Murdoch
Principal
**CONSULTING ARCHITECT:**
Graham Hubenthal, Architect
18542 Swanson Lane
Stanwood, WA 98292
Graham Hubenthal
Principal
**STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:**
Sato & Boppana
**GENERAL CONTRACTOR:**
Earl Corporation
**MASONRY CONTRACTOR:**
Arc-Accucon Construction
**BLOCK PRODUCER:**
Angelus Block Company, Inc.
**OWNER:**
University of California, Los Angeles
**Jury Comments:** The lightly textured masonry foundation greatly enhances the design of what would otherwise be a simple utilitarian glass structure. The masonry foundation was also a nice solution for anchoring the building to a challenging site.
Situated prominently on a noisy, six-lane strip of Sunset Boulevard, the library serves a diverse urban community concerned equally with parking, maintenance, and symbolic presence. Our design sides with commercial context, rakes up to distant mountains, and retains a certain institutional distinction.
Tall and hard-surfaced on the front, low and softly landscaped on the rear, the building confronts street scale and movement and answers problems of noise and durability. Reading areas border the sidewalk, engaging pedestrians and the lights and movement of cars through angled bays of sound resistant glass block. In lieu of the standard, hard to maintain planter, a concrete berm slopes to the sidewalk lessening building scale. The front rises as a plane, capped by strip-scale, three-dimensional dedication signage that reads in an evanescent, non-commercial way. The foyer links the corner plaza and rear parking entrances with a community room for use when the library is closed. CMU walls and concrete paving continue the exterior character of the sidewalk into the reading room.
Inside curving ceilings, supported by articulated columns and girders, evenly reflect daylight from south-facing skylights to provide sufficient reading light without electric illumination. At the far end of the building, a court opens to the sky continuing interior space outward. In the story telling room, a free form, structural glass window gives kids a wobbly view into the court.
Exposed concrete masonry supplies seismic resistance, noise abatement, and durable finish. Its 12" x 12" module and raked joints establish scale and texture. Used freely to form building walls, fences and planters, the “ground face” colored CMU initiated an earthy palette of concrete, metal siding, and painted steel elements that sets the building off from its commercial neighbors.
ARCHITECT:
Barton Phelps & Associates, Architects and Planners
5514 Wilshire Blvd., 10th Floor
Los Angeles, CA 90036
Barton Phelps, FAIA
Principal
David Haggerty
Sr. Associate
Ronald Rosell
Paul Duelo
Project Managers
STRUCTURAL ENGINEER:
Nabih Youssef & Associates
GENERAL CONTRACTOR:
R. B. & G. Construction Co., Inc.
MASONRY CONTRACTOR:
Moody Masonry and Concrete
BLOCK PRODUCER:
Angelus Block Company, Inc.
Air Vol Block, Inc.
OWNER:
Los Angeles Public Library
Jury Comments: This nicely designed library appeared to offer comfortable and inviting spaces. The building façade is interestingly proportioned and the blend of masonry and glass block seems to reflect the context of the neighborhood.
Call for Entries
Please mark your calendar for our “Call-For-Entry” brochure to be received by mail in early January 2005. You do not have to be a member of AIA to be included in this prestigious competition. Requests for submittal binders will also be downloadable from our web site in January at www.cmacn.org or can be obtained by calling the CMACN office at (916) 722-1700 or by e-mail at info@cmacn.org.
Cost: $100
Tentative Schedule:
Last date to request submittal binders: March 31, 2005
Last date for receipt of completed submittal binders: April 30, 2005
Concrete Masonry Design Awards Banquet: October 2005 |
[REMOVED] |