However, I have to refer to and agree with the statement made by Joseph Bryant, the President of the Southside Community Coalition, in the Post Standard: “… I don’t feel like we’re finished or we’re even closed to finished.”  As a matter of fact, this is where is all begins!

This is where you really begin to figure out all the things that need figuring out; to finalize the permits, hire the contractor, coordinate the design/build work, not to mention answering all the questions that arise during construction.  I’m searching for an appropriate corollary here.  If it were baseball, construction would be the postseason.  If it were a play, this is where the curtains go up.  If it were a boxing match, we are just now entering the ring.  It’s where you transition from long arduous preparation into action that is constantly being fine-tuned and adjusted until you get your desired result. 

It is, for me, absolutely the most amazing part of architecture, and why I do what I do.  Although the cermonial shovel, TV interviews and mayoral handshakes are fun, when the backhoes break into the ground I will be truly excited.

It occurs to me that this is a question we as architects in the profession also need to be asking ourselves: “who is our audience?”  Most architectural writing and thought today (from my humble experience) seems to be primarily aimed at other architects and designers.  It’s in the language we use and the platforms we choose.  It all serves to reinforce the stereotype of the architect as a detached elitist only concerned with his/her own ego; much like the student standing with his/her back to the class talking to work on the wall. 

This topic most recently came up in my meeting last week with Wendy Fuller, an editor for architectural publications at Routledge, where she was telling me that my book idea is actually at best a series of articles.  We also began discussing my approach of using short form prose for describing the process behind projects.  She suggested that this writing style may be welcome in contemporary publications, adding: “archispeak needs to die.” 

Later in the meeting, we went on to talk about how inaccessible architects’ websites are, most opting for the sleek Flash platform instead of the more open WordPress platform.  Flash is an inherently non-interactive platform.  Sure, you can navigate through and move stuff around, but there is no way for the user modifying any of the content.  It’s almost as if it wants to say “here is my stuff, but don’t touch.”  WordPress, on the other hand, is built for a constantly changing dialogue between the administrator and the users.

I believe more expansive writing and social engagement is necessary for a couple of reasons.  One, from a marketing perspective, in order to make architecture more accessible, desirable and lucrative.  And two, in order to creative a more inclusive vocabulary (architectural and verbal) for better communication with our true audience: the clients and users. 

There is a great article in ArchitectureBoston this month that I think reinforces this notion of how architects are perceived by others and by ourselves.  In it, Rachel Levitt Slade suggests that interior designers are more likely to command the attention of their audience (clients in this case) since they “can be flamboyant. They can laugh, cry, and overgesticulate. But they’ll take you shopping and friend you on Facebook.”  Maybe it’s okay for us to be more human.  Would it be so bad if everyone didn’t think we were the smartest person in the room (even if we secretly knew we were)?  Maybe it’s time for us to turn around and face the class.

To answer the first question, this was something I was seriously resistant to for many years.  Funny enough, the decision was made last October during a lunch with my colleague, Larry Bowne, where I was seeking his advice on how to best prepare a case for a tenure-track position here at Syracuse.  The question then shifted (after my standard rantings about how my Bachelor’s degree from Cornell was superior to any Master’s degree) to “how badly do I want to teach?”  Once I moved past the resistance that had been building up inside me for years, it became clear that teaching was an essential part of how I define myself as an architect, fighting for one specific tenure-track position without a Master’s would continue to limit my options, and attending grad school could now be seen as an amazing opportunity rather than a box that needed to be checked on my CV.  That instinctual, sudden, clear decision easily led to my applying to the only two schools I was considering (Berkeley and GSD), being accepted to one (I don’t know what’s up with Berkeley) and deciding to accept their offer.

The second question is easier to answer.  I don’t see any reason to curb or restrict any of my practice related activities during the 3 or 4 semesters I spend at the GSD.  I’ve built quite a bit of momentum and a way of working in multiple locations that can continue to be of use.  I’ve done all this while teaching full time for the last two years.  Yes, it will be quite different with a student’s schedule, but I trust my ability to focus on what I need to do and to adapt to challenges that come my way.

As a way of connecting this all together and answering a few other questions that may pop up, I’ve included a link to my application essay, entitled “the constant student” as a way of explaining some of my decision-making process.  I look forward to your thoughts.

It was quite a treat seeing the school as it is now, in transition; there is so much newness to appreciate and so much unchanged to be nostalgic about.  It was also great to catch up with some former professors and classmates who are now doing everything from taking over a 20+ person firm to fashion design to visual and digital media curating.

The building itself is a bit of a revelation in that it actually got built.  The endowment from the Milsteins had been present for something like 20 or 30 years (someone should look that up).  And though OMA claim to be the third architects hired I distinctly remember a fourth, a few years before Steven Holl got the commission, coming to make a presentation sometime around 1995 or 96.  I don’t recall who they were (some should look that up as well), but I do remember the faculty being quite unhappy with their initial design solution.

Pleasing the architecture faculty, as the story goes, has been one of the largest road blocks to getting the building realized.  It’s remarkable that the architects were able to quiet the concerns of the local planning boards by cantilevering the studio plate over University Avenue, but were still unable to please the faculty.  As one professor emeritus told me on Saturday “I feel a bit hypocritical being here [to celebrate].  I hate this building.”  There is also a scathing parody film made by the current students about the relationship between the faculty and the building.

My own thoughts are that it is an elegant solution to a complex problem with a few fun moments.  I do think, however, (and I’ve said this many times to friends) that the overall quality of work coming out of Cornell’s architecture program will decline because of the building itself.  Rand Hall, the former home of the architecture studios, was a nondescript box that allowed freedom of experimentation.  This new, pristine building, I believe, will stifle that spirit of adventure that Rand Hall allowed, and may even directly influence architectural though because of its design specificity.  All we can do, I guess, is watch, wait and hope for the best.

As part of the preparation for that event, I’ve decided to lay out some of my ideas here to help refine the details and the spirit of the presentation.  Here are the anwsers that I gave to the questions posed on the speaker application:
Q: What is your Simple Message? * A memorable phrase, or the topic of your presentation
A: Creative people, by their very nature, have a divine connection to the creator.  Architects can further expand upon that connection by “getting their hands dirty.”  The simple act of being involved directly with the construction process allows for a deepened understanding of design and an expanded definition of architecture itself.

Q: What is your Compelling Vision? * How will your message impact the world?
A: My vision is that architects will expand the definition of what they do and how they are perceived to include all areas of construction process and various design disciplines.

Q: What is your big WHY? * What’s the reason you MUST share this message with the world?
A: The entire architectural field has shifted from a group once seen as “masterbuilders” to one with an increasingly narrow area of expertise.  Meanwhile, the risks of practicing have significantly increased as the rewards continue to decrease.  I am on a mission to help architects reclaim their rightful place as masterbuilders and to inform the public of the versatile skill sets of these unique individuals. 

Q: What is your Call to Action? * What can the audience do to promote your message?
A: In what aspects of your life can you “get your hands dirty?”: stop sitting on the sidelines as a risk averse theorist and become a fully engaged practitioner.  Where in your life can you shift from talking to walking?

As a side note, on my recent trip to New York, I saw a poster about a TEDx event in April at The Cooper Union asking for speaker applications.  Even thought this would be a slightly shorter format (5-10 mins instead of 12-18 mins) and I’m not really affiliated with Cooper, I immediately recognized it as an opportunity to test out this message.  Don’t know if they’ll accept outsiders, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed and keep posting as things develop.

Here is a copy of our proposed itinerary:
9:00 Alice Tully Hall @ Lincoln Center (Diller, Scofidio + Renfro)

9:15 1 train to 116th Street, Columbia University
9:30 Lerner Student Center (Bernard Tschumi)
9:45 1 train to 125th Street
10:05 Studio Museum in Harlem – studio tour
10:30 B train to 81st Street
10:45 Rose Center at the Natural History Museum (Polshek + Partners)
10:50 Walk across Central Park (Fredrick Law Olmstead)
11:10 Metropolitan Museum of Art
11:20 Whitney Museum (Marcel Breuer)
11:30 bus to Grand Army Plaza
11:40 Apple Store 5th Avenue (Bohlin Cywinski Jackson)

11:45 Walk to 53rd Street and Park Avenue
11:55 Lever House (Skidmore Owings and Merrill)
12:05 Seagram’s Building (Ludwig Mies Van der Rohe)
12:15 Walk to 42nd Street and Park Avenue
12:30 Grand Central Terminal
LUNCH (on your own)
2:00 Meet at highline at 30th Street and 10th Avenue
4:20 End highline tour and documentation
4:25 E train to World Trade Center
4:45 9/11 memorial (Michael Arad)

5:35 5,6 or R train to Union Square
5:55 Cooper Union (Morphosis)

6:05 Walk to Prince Street and Bowery
6:15 New Museum (Sanaa)
6:30 Walk to Broome Street and Mulberry Street
DINNER
7:00 La Mela Ristorante, 167 Mulberry Street

As you can see, it was quite a full day. This was all topped off by a 7 hour delay on our bus ride home after our bus broke down on the 280 outside of West Orange. Here’s an image of what 4:30 am looks like after a full day of walking:

Dragon Day was one of Cornell’s oldest traditions traced back to about 1900 when the architecture students built a long green snake and paraded it around campus. By the time I arrived the tradition had been expanded and regulatized to become a series of events linked across the entire school year.

It begins with Picture Day near the beginning of the fall semester where the second year students orchestrate a highly visible prank on all the freshmen (the particulars of which I will not disclose in order to preserve its integrity). This sets up a second prank day, Sprinkler Day, the night before the freshman final reviews. By the spring the onus of organizing these school-wide events shifted to the first years (now properly indoctrinated) whose primary obligation was Dragon Day, just before spring break.

In just half a semester, a life-sized dragon would have to be designed and built, in addition to all the fundraising efforts (primarily from t-shirt design and sale) and party planning. In our year we made a competition out of the t-shirt design and logo design (necessary for creating a stencil to tag the school with green spray paint). Some of my ideas were incorporated into the final designs, though I didn’t win the full commission. I was also very active in the design of the dragon itself where we made a radical departure from the upright structure of previous years on a shopping-cart-style chassis. The new design would be for a horizontal dragon in the flying position, with a pivoting cantilevered neck and as many moveable parts as we could think up. The first years, whose job it was to parade to beast around campus, would be protected inside the welded steel frame of the body and the Chinese-dragon-style tail from projectiles being hurled by our traditional nemeses, the engineers.

[As a quick aside, the engineers also have a role each dragon day: to make sure it doesn't happen. That has meant anything from them stealing the dragon's head during construction to building a castle in front of their quad filled with dragon slayers. I've never heard of a time when they were ultimately successful]

This new design required a new type of chassis. Instead of building one ourselves from scratch we decided to buy an old Volks Wagen van for a few hundred dollars and tear it apart. Dismantling that van piece by piece until only the chassis, four wheels, the driver’s seat and a steering wheel were left is still today one of my fondest memories.

A couple other design innovations that I was involved with: the square cardboard scales, rotated at 45 degrees and fixed at 3 corners in an overlapping fashion (the previous year they used tear-drop-shaped scales fixed only at the top: much harder to cut efficiently and much easier to blow upward in the wind); and the retractable wings made of metal conduit and fabric on an elaborate pulley system (these lasted for about 10 mins on the day. They got snagged in a tree and broke off).

Dragon Day itself begins really early. Actually, it begins the night before with a massive toilet papering of every tree on the entire campus. The upperclassmen then stay up late to work on insane constumes and wake up early for a breakfast of beer and pancakes. The first years, who have been up for about 3 nights in a row, make the final adjustments to the structure as everyone assembles waiting for the festivities to commence. Onlookers from the University and the entire city of Ithaca come out to watch each year. The parade takes a route along the main campus roads making a large circle towards the center of the Arts Quad. Along the way the projectile hurlers get tackled by architecture students protecting the dragon, then the skirmishes get broken up by campus security dressed in riot gear. Once the journey is complete, the dragon is laid to rest with a ceremonial burning (burning the dragon is now apparently not permitted on campus). Each member of the parade then gets their turn to scamper around the growing bonfire. The fire is then safely extinguished be the local fire department and the clean-up crews go to work.

For the architecture students the evening is capped off with a massive party in first year studios. I missed my first post-dragon party. Having been awake for 72+ hours and pushed a massive sculpture around for about a mile, I passed out for a few hours in the living room of my dorm before heading to bed for 12 hours. I had never given so much time and effort over to anything in my life up to that point. This explained why I got a C- for that half of the semester (the minimum passing grade was a C). Luckily I had a very strong support network in placed that staged an intervention once they knew I was failing.

I look forward to the big alumni celebration happening the March for the new Milstein Hall building. I hope to catch a glimpse of what this semester’s Dragon Day celebration will be like. Maybe I’ll see a tag for the class of ’16 on the newly constructed building.

The review featured high highs and low lows with a generally consistent level of discourse. I plan on posting some images (with the proper permissions) once I receive the materials from the students. The review also included by sister, Nina Cooke John, on the jury; her first visit to Syracuse since she taught here herself about 8 years ago.

The rest of the semester will be final conferences with my students (exit interviews as they call them), and thesis and thesis prep reviews. I’m very much looking forward to these and will be posting some thoughts on those students’ performances next week.

The winter break will be focused on finalizing construction documents for the South Side Food Coop and writing lectures for next semester’s furniture design class.

For the second year in a row, my work has been included in a group showing of the architecture faculty here at the SOA at Syracuse University.  Though my contribution was not as extensive as last year’s “Motive Force” (a three-person show including Larry Bowne and Richard Rosa), this year’s “Furnished” still gave me an opportunity to design and build a new piece.

The show is a collection of furniture and product design pieces, built or designed by SOA faculty.  Each piece, as curated by Lena Vassilev, is organized in a series of vignette displays, each with it’s own combination of white surfaces (from wall paper to ceramic tile to faux-fur).

My own entry is a small bench made with laminated Homasote panels connected by hidden bolts, a custom-fabricated pair of metal brackets, and (don’t tell my students) glue.  Since the piece was originally conceived of as cast concrete, I was very happy with the finish of the Homasote.  It clearly looks like concrete, but is half the weight and soft to the touch (almost velvety).  I can imagine creating a series of these in different sizes, configurations and made of a variety of laminated and cast materials.

I was happy for the students to be exposed to the variety of work that the faculty thinks about and produces.  Dean Mark Robbins refers to a scalar difference between furniture design and building design.  I prefer to think of both scales in the same way and to include furniture and product design in the expansive skill set of the architect.  To that end, I’m also happy to have at least one piece in the show since I’ll be teaching a furniture design studio (the first of it’s kind at SOA) next spring.  More on that class in later posts.