Skin vs. Structure in Architecture

It's hard to describe the state of architecture today. It's a field that's always undergoing technological innovation that may or may not interact with concurrent changes in artistic intent and architectural schools of thought.

However, I think that Richard Serra very accurately describes one of the biggest issues in architecture today.  Serra is world-renown artist specializing in large iron structures. He makes his architectural observation in an interview conducted by Hal Foster (a professor at Princeton) in his book The Art-Architecture Complex (New York: Verso, 2011).

In the past, "industrial space was largely defined by the frame and the grid" says Serra. This comment may allude to Mies Van der Rohe, his disciples, and their use of a strong structural grid as the fundamental visual characteristic of their designs. However, as Serra observes, "contemporary space is much looser, smoother, faster - about a movement rather than framing." He adds "it's more related to skin, to surface to extension. Our first relation to architecture is to its skin. That's a big difference." (Foster, 226).

I think Serra could be alluding to any number of architects. Zaha Hadid, whose work is all about surface, visual representation, and doesn't focus on context. Or perhaps the "folded paper" architecture of Frank Gehry, where his building's sculptural surfaces are detached from their interiors.

So can surface and structure be reconciled in contemporary architecture? This question got me thinking about Thom Mayne (of Morphosis Architecture) and his firm's 009 building at 41 Cooper Square. Housing a variety of Cooper Union classrooms, the building wears its surface and its structure on its sleeves. While the ground floor is highly structural in its appearance, the main body also features a metallic skin draped over a semi-visible steel frame. It's a building whose exterior established a clear relationship between surface and structure. The latter shapes and supports the former. This relationship is turn creates a unique sense of space and character that extends beyond the unconventional forms for which Morphosis is known.

 Photo Study: 41 Cooper Square 1

 Photo Study: 41 Cooper Square 2

Photo Study: 41 Cooper Square 3

Photo Study: 41 Cooper Square 4

Photo Study: 41 Cooper Square 5

Photo Study: 9/11 Memorial

Back in September I had the opportunity to hear Michael Arad speak about his experiences designing the 9/11 Memorial in New York City. I was most struck by how emotional and personal the design was for him. His initial idea for the project, to have two empty spaces in the shape of the towers being perpetually filled with water, came unbidden to him after witnessing the towers fall from the roof of his apartment building. This is in contrast with many memorials (and most architecture) which are a very deliberate design acts as opposed to a profound emotional response.

The memorial consists of a public park space with the two cavities occupying where the two towers once stood. In the center in each collecting pool is a square drain that disappears into darkness. This simple design invites multiple interpretations: about the passing of water and time, the meaning of the union of many streams to form one flow, etc. Above all else it is about anomie and mourning; the acute sense of absence and the meditation upon that absence. The pools are lined with plaques listing the dead: the list reminds us what we are looking at just as much as who we are missing.

The idea of mourning is more than just grief. It can imply a remembrance, even a transportation, to the past. The memorial itself attempts to provide a tranquil medium or a profound stimulus for this act. However, the memorial itself is surrounded by a context that is firmly rooted in its time and place. Reservations and tickets are mandatory, security and electronic surveillance are heavy, and everything is still under construction. The memorial aims to be an oasis of perpetual mourning though the act of entering it and leaving it will always firmly remind visitors of our post-9/11 world.  

Photo Study 1: 9/11 Memorial 

Photo Study 2: 9/11 Memorial 

 Photo Study 3: 9/11 Memorial 

Photo Study 4: 9/11 Memorial 

Photo Study 5: 9/11 Memorial 

Photo Study: Aqua

This will likely be my ultimate post before I go on Summer hiatus; I hope to return to posting in August or September.

"The Aqua" is a fairly recent addition to the Chicago skyline though it has made quite an impression despite being hidden away in the cluster of skyscrapers West of Michigan Ave. between the Chicago River and Millennium Park. It was designed by Jeanne Gang of Studio Gang architects and was completed in 2009. The tower's proportions, which are long and slender compared to most in Chicago, immediately set the structure apart. What truly makes it unique is clearly its waves.

Skyscrapers have an immense verticality that can be exploited for captivating effect. Art Deco towers emphasized their height by featuring unbroken lines that would run along their surface from top to bottom. Mies buildings, with their numerous I-beams running their vertical length, change their appearance as you walk alongside them. The Aqua building presents a different vista; one that morphs as one's distance to Aqua's base changes. It's surface undulates before your eyes, creating a delightful effect. If the sky had been blue I'm sure Aqua's "valleys" and "lakes" would have been ocean azure as well, though the perpetually grey Chicago sky precluded that possibility for today.

Photo Study: Aqua 1

Photo Study: Aqua 2

Photo Study: Aqua 3

Photo Study: Aqua 4

Photo Study: Aqua 5

Photo Study: Aqua 6

Photo Study: Aqua 7

Photo Study: The Spertus Center

Architecture does not necessarily rely on context, but it is always sensitive to it. Good contextual architecture enters in dialog with its surroundings by conforming, contrasting, or something in between. Most built environments, specifically urban ones, will have a dominant style or architectural tradition. Sometimes a specific site will have complex restrictions (legal or otherwise) with which a designer must contend. Other times there will only be a few simple parameters, such as a limit on height or space that can be occupied.

The Spertus Center is a fascinating example of contextual architecture. Like most buildings on Michigan Ave, it must fill a narrow but long space that is exposed to pedestrians in one limited facade. The Spertus' striking glass grid contrasts well with its surroundings: it fits in its alloted space while creating a memorable spectacle that leaves an impression in any passerby. It's not just the material and modern appearance of the Spertus; it's also its creation of a landscape with highs and lows that makes the building worthy of note.

Photo Study: Spertus Center 1

Photo Study: Spertus Center 2

Photo Study: Spertus Center 3

Photo Study: Spertus Center 4

Photo Study: Spertus Center 5

Photo Study: Spertus Center 6

Photo Study: Spertus Center 7

Photo Study: The Rookery

It's a common misconception that buildings are designed and built in one fell swoop. Most are built and modified over time by a number of architects and owners in both subtle and less-than-subtle ways. I wanted to look at the Rookery because it's an excellent example of just such a composite structure that is the result of many creative influences.

The Rookery, located on La Salle St., was initially built in 1887-88 by Burnham and Root, a firm responsible for many of Chicago's great early skyscrapers. The building featured a "light court," a large open internal space designed to bring in natural light throughout the structure. The space has undergone two significant renovations; one in 1905 by Frank Lloyd Wright and another in 1932 that added the staircase that begins on the 2nd floor of the light court.

Wright's renovation totally changed the character of the court, though was able to very successfully subsume elements of the old cast-iron decorations (see photo of column revealing the marble's hidden interior). The art-deco staircase similarly works with the existing space, and not against it, despite its return to the cast-iron motif. This court epitomizes the aesthetic evolution of a building, though hides that evolution behind the great craftsmanship that blurs its heterogeneous styles.

Photo Study: The Rookery 1

Photo Study: The Rookery 2

Photo Study: The Rookery 3

Photo Study: The Rookery 4

Photo Study: The Rookery 5

Photo Study: The Rookery 6

Photo Study: The Rookery 7

Art Museums and Museum Visitors as Art

The meaning and importance of museums have changed a great deal since the Renaissance. What began as a cabinet of curiosities or a private collection has transformed itself into a massive public institution where the state of art is actively defined and shaped. Granted, museums (especially in the beaux-arts tradition) have long worked to define the parameters of what art could or could not be. Despite the fact that those parameters have become meaningless with the advent of post-modern art, the museum has expanded to envelop this genre of expression as well. No medium or style is outside the purview of a museum of contemporary or modern art; any and all works are subject to its taste.

I don't wish to portray the museum as a monstrosity. They do an excellent job providing intellectual stimulation to the public. As an nascent architect I cannot help but be fascinated by the museum spaces themselves, which tend to be architecturally and stylistically neutral in deference to the art they contain. This seems a little ironic in contrast to their function, which inherently involves taste and choice. The clean lines and pale tones of the Griffin Court of the Art Institute's Modern Wing made an excellent canvas to capture these colorful images of guests moving through the museum space. I hope these images are both visually stimulating but also subtly, if indirectly, critique the museum's neutral facade.

Modern Wing 1

Modern Wing 2

Modern Wing 3

Modern Wing 4

Photo Study: The Inland Steel Building

From the very start of the Chicago Loop as we know it in the early 20th century, its architects and their clients have been guided by the search for the most economical and cost-minimizing ways to make office space. Unfortunately this search has, for the most part, produced rather boring office towers. However, a few original skyscrapers do stand out as both unique and beautiful.

One of those surprising stand-outs is the Inland Steel Building. Designed by architects from Skidmore Owings & Merrill and built 1956-57, the building strictly divides its office space from its secondary functions (such as elevators, bathrooms, heating, cooling, etc). While these secondary functions are cordoned off within a windowless steel tower, the adjacent office space is encased within a beautiful turquoise glass curtain wall. By separating these two portions of the building the architects were able to create massive swaths of uninterrupted office floor that could be customized to any client's desired configuration.

What I particularly like about this building is how its glass exterior interacts in the sunlight with the reflective stainless steel covering the load-bearing columns. In a beautiful example of art following structure (much like the dramatic ornamentation encrusting the flying buttresses of a cathedral), the steel and the glass work together to produce a wide range of colors and tones. It's a remarkably striking piece of corporate architecture.

Photo Study: Inland Steel Building 1

Photo Study: Inland Steel Building 2

Photo Study: Inland Steel Building 3

Photo Study: Inland Steel Building 4

Photo Study: Inland Steel Building 5

Photo Study: Inland Steel Building 6

Photo Study: Inland Steel Building 7