#modernistkinkade

Le Corbusier's Villa Savoye set in a wintry Christmas Thomas Kinkade landscape (image by @robyniko)

Internet memes quickly propagate across social networks like Twitter. The most popular “go viral” at the speed of light as media sites share and reshare content, typically within specific Internet subcultures. A classic instance of this effect caught my attention and the notice of others across the architectural Twitterverse just over a week ago: Indianapolis architect @robyniko debuted a bravura series of Photoshopped mashups featuring icons of 20th century domestic architecture set within the glowing, pastoral landscapes of mass-market “Painter of Light,” Thomas Kinkade. The dissonance inherent in the unlikely melding of high modernism and twee kitsch spurred a broad and timely online conversation about the cultural chasm between so-called “elites” (of which architects supposedly number prominently) and social conservatives. 

Various outlets immediately picked up on the #modernistkinkade experiment, among others Fast Company, Curbed, The Architect’s Newspaper, and Archinect. 

@robyniko’s work was in response to a challenge posed by fellow architect and Twitterer @DonnaSinkArch. “Does anyone do paintings of Modern buildings in the style of Thomas Kincade (sic)?” Donna asked. She wondered if “Trad Arch ethnonationalists would like Modernism better with a Painter of Light glow.” A self-proclaimed procrastinator, #robyniko had “a lot to do” and his wife “would kill” him if she knew he spent time on his little diversion but “you don’t get to pick when you get the call to be a hero.” 

Essayist Joan Didion once said of Thomas Kinkade’s style: “A Kinkade painting was typically rendered in slightly surreal pastels. It typically featured a cottage or a house of such insistent coziness as to seem actually sinister, suggestive of a trap designed to attract Hansel and Gretel. Every window was lit, to lurid effect, as if the interior of the structure might be on fire.” The genius of the #modernistkinkade mashups lies in their juxtaposition of Kinkade’s idyllic, sentimental landscapes with seminal designs by the likes of Kahn, Johnson, Le Corbusier, Mies, Eames, and Gehry. The effect is both jarring and disarming for architects raised at the altar of high design. 

Philip Johnson's Glass House gets the #modernistkinkade treatment

@robyniko believes there’s a meaningful conversation to be had about architectural representation and public perception. Reverse-engineering his motivations, he hoped his mashups would foster a worthwhile dialogue. They’ve done this and more, contributing an entertaining counterpoint to the stylistic contretemps fueled by today’s deep social and political divisions. The waggish irony of the chimeric images makes us smile, and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Alas, all good things do come to an end. Sic transit gloria. @robyniko’s brilliant modernist/kitsch fusions will fade as their Internet half-lives tick away. I’m late to the party but I felt compelled to acknowledge and celebrate his virtuosity. Internet memes may be fleeting but this does not mean they cannot be important, thought-provoking, and lasting in impact.

Prioritizing Design as a School Security Solution

Roosevelt Middle School - Mahlum Architects w/Robertson/Sherwood/Architects

The American Institute of Architects recently launched an initiative to promote the role design can play in improving school safety, specifically in response to the spate of school shootings in recent years. This initiative is proceeding on a variety of fronts, including efforts to help state and local school officials access information and funding in support of expertise focused upon the design of safe and secure schools. 

The fact school shootings regularly fill our news cycle is beyond heartbreaking. The immediate, reflexive, and necessary responses may improve safeguards but in the process they too often transform once open places dedicated to education into less-than-welcoming fortresses or bunkers. Our schools risk becoming victimized twice by the perpetrators of violence—directly in the most tragic of instances but also indirectly as society comes to grips with the repercussions for all. To the extent anything can be done to ensure school safety, we can hope informed, skillful design will contribute toward practical, cost-effective solutions that help preserve the innocence, wonder, and joy for learning all children deserve. 

AIA’s Committee on Architecture for Education knows it is possible for vulnerable schools to remain open and positive learning environments while also enhancing safety and security. This is the power of good design. A safe school is one that allows administrators to have physical control over the environment. It is a place where students, parents, and staff can go and not be concerned by outside or internal threats. Measures intended to deter school violence needn’t be ever-present in the minds of those protected by them. 

AIA’s initiative includes collecting signatures from its members for a petition intended to prioritize design as an integral part of the solution to curbing school violence. Once it collects 50,000 signatures, the AIA will deliver the petition to elected officials across the country at all levels of government. While the written appeal is short on specifics, it does serve to emphasize the profession’s commitment to helping address an intractable issue charged with politics and emotion. It comes from a uniquely qualified perspective, one focused upon enhancing the physical attributes of our school buildings and campuses so that they may be the safe, supportive, and life-affirming places for learning everyone wants them to be. 

I’ve signed the AIA petition and encourage you to do so as well. Here is its wording, which you’ll also find on the petition website: 

“Power of Design” Petition on School Safety:

Architects protect the health, safety and welfare of building occupants. It is fundamental to what we do. We routinely address the social, psychological, economic, and environmental factors when designing a building, especially schools. 

Over the course of almost two decades, architects have worked with school communities across the country in response to repeated acts of deadly violence targeting students and educators. In so doing, our profession has proven that innovative architectural design solutions must keep learners and learning central to the decision-making process for designing safe schools. Therefore, we ask you to make this a core value of your decision-making when considering how to design new schools or when renovating existing ones. Furthermore, we ask you to remember that schools are intended to be communities. They should be planned without sacrificing the inherent positive qualities of the school environments we all desire for our children. This is especially important to value because there is no one-size-fits-all design solution to school safety. School design must adapt to differing and evolving community concerns, support student health and safety, and create productive learning environments. 

As architects and citizens of your community, we call on you to understand that the power of architecture and design to address this issue is real. While it can’t prevent school violence, it can help safeguard students and teachers while keeping schools positive places of learning and growth. To that end, we stand ready to partner with you. 

Mrs. Blonder’s Existence Space

The following lengthy passage—in variously edited forms—appeared in every version of Bill Kleinsasser’s self-published textbook Synthesis. In it he spoke of Mrs. Blonder, an elderly woman who chided Bill for being a member of a profession seemingly incapable of designing places with the well-being of users in mind. I was immediately struck by the apocryphal tone of Bill’s recounting of his conversation with her. Was she a real person? Or was she a made-up character, a stand-in for the many people whose life experiences are impoverished because the “existence space” they regularly occupy fails to support their necessary, predictable, and repeating activities well? Whether she was real or not was not the point. The insights Mrs. Blonder shared with Bill and in turn his students are timeless and pertinent for anyone charged with designing real spaces for breathing, thinking, and feeling people. 

Several years ago, I met a 76-year-old woman who lived on the 21st floor of one of Portland’s most acclaimed new apartment buildings. She invited me to visit her place so that I could hear her opinion about living there. As soon as I arrived she asked: 

“. . . tell me Mr. Architect, what on earth do architects think about if they don’t think about the well-being of the people who live in the places they design?” 

For two hours she described the things that were unsatisfactory for her about her apartment, her building, the space around her building, her community, her city. 

Her two main rooms were alike except that the bedroom was slightly smaller. Both were box-like with plaster walls, plaster ceilings of equal height, and carpeted floors. Both faced the hills west of the city and overlooked commercial buildings, streets, parking lots, and parking garages. There was an entry, a kitchen alcove, a bathroom, two closets, a small storage room in the basement, and a balcony. There was also a heater, an air conditioner (with a condenser on the balcony), a garbage disposal, a dishwasher, a refrigerator, a range, two exhaust fans, and the usual set of plumbing fixtures. 

She told me that her apartment did not feel “cozy” or “homey;” rather, it felt “cold” and “dull.” She said that she soon became bored there each day. The windows faced only one way, the walls were hard to put pictures on, the balcony was too noisy and windy to be comfortable (she had planted flowers there, but they died). She felt a lack of privacy—anyone could easily come to her door from the street. She felt isolated—there was no easy way to meet other people. She had sold her prized piano because “. . . there wasn’t enough room for it and the neighbors would probably object if I played it. I always hear their noises.” 

At each floor in her building, an 8’ wide x 8’ tall corridor passed by each apartment door as it looped around the central elevator and stair core. It had no sitting place or public room to casually meet friends for coffee, to chat, to watch passers-by, or to pass the time of day. There was no sunlight or view to the outside. 

On the ground floor, next to the entry, a 20’ x 20’ lobby contained a wall full of mail boxes and seating for eight. A locked “recreation room” (so titled on the door) did not relieve the need for a gathering place, nor did an undeveloped garden on the roof. 

Outside, a paved open space stretched from building to building, and several rectangular areas (elevated) contained flowers, ground cover, and a tree. The space was windy and empty when I was there and not inviting. I was told that the flowers were maintained by the management, not the residents. 

Mrs. Blonder described her habit of leaving her apartment and building as early as possible each day and staying away as long as she could; however, after expenses there was little she could afford to do. She missed being able to dress up and go out for dinner, to have special times and favorite places (like those she remembered from her earlier life). She did eat out occasionally, but the places she could reach made her feel uncomfortable. 

It was clear that Mrs. Blonder’s surroundings contained very little that she could enjoy and control Her walking trips and bus trips were often more frightening and tiring than enjoyable—their destinations often uneventful and psychologically inaccessible. There were few places she like to go to, few friends to share things with, few things to share. And she felt surrounded constantly by machines: she had to look at them from her windows, dodge them, pass them, and smell them in the streets, listen to them at night (both the tinkling of the exhaust fan on the roof and the elevator outside her door kept her awake). In the summer, the sound of the condenser on the balcony (and all the other balconies) was almost unbearable. She enjoyed automobile excursions into the country most, when her environment could be comfortable, private, and changing—her experience diversified and ordered. 

Of course, by many standards Mrs. Blonder is very well off. She is safe, dry, warm (or cool). She has all the conventional apartment-living equipment. She is physically and economically secure. But her comments to me seem to describe extensive, special need: her environment is both incomplete and experientially impoverished, and she is unable to do anything about it. 

As I thought about this, I realized that there is a tendency in Portland, as in many American cities, to separate people who live in places from those who make design decisions about them. It is usually hard, if not impossible, for people to make their needs known, and it is equally hard for decision-makers to find out what is needed. To make matters worse, methods of development tend to prevent the accommodation of needs when they are known: people are seldom given a chance to participate in design and places are not evaluated after they are built (the are usually promoted instead). 

And projects tend to be separated from one another in both time and concept. They do not benefit from each other and they do not take enough responsibility for the spaces between buildings, which is especially unfortunate because most of the quality of great cities comes from the richness, diversity, and accessibility of their “in-betweens.” 

Excellent buildings contribute much to cities, but a humane, supportive environment comes mainly from a continuum of opportunities and good experiences, and these cannot be provided by buildings alone, even great ones. People like to have good places to go to, good things to do, many choices from which to select. They like to be able to linger when they wish, to join others casually, to be able to withdraw and rest. They like to feel that they are a part of life and events, not cut off from them by impersonal systems. They like to live among things and in places that were made with them in mind. They like to pass through different kinds of places, to go by different paths when they choose, to be always among things and in places that support their needs, their actions, and their ever-changing states of mind. When these opportunities do not exist—as they did not for Mrs. Blonder—the environment is experientially empty and the people in it deprived. 

There are many cities in the world from which we can learn. One is Geneva, Switzerland, my home many years ago. Geneva is a city of half the population of Portland that occupies only one-tenth as much space. Living in six- and seven-story apartment buildings, nearly everyone is within walking distance of the city center. The density has generated a pervasive fabric of small, interesting, diversified public places. There are scores of small parks (some no more than a space, a bench or two, a fountain, and several trees) and good, inexpensive restaurants where people are welcome to linger without buying more than a few cups of coffee. Walkways, street lights, walls, gates, stairs, ramps, fountains, chairs and benches abound, and there are always many people around doing many kinds of things. 

Geneva, Switzerland. Photo by Alexey M. [CC BY-SA 4.0  (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], from Wikimedia Commons

The whole city focuses on the lake and the water is accessible, clean, and used. There are boats of many kinds constantly moving in and out, water’s-edge cafes, places to swim, low bridges that do not block the water view or break the continuity of the lake edge, islands and places for walkers to pause and watch the swans and ducks, and a perfect expression of it all: a jet of white water (the Jet d’Eau) shooting its billowing spray four hundred feet high at a point which can be seen from almost everywhere. 

It is possible for everyone to do many things in Geneva. It is possible to experience many kinds of places and to feel that they are for you. It is possible to reach any point by trolley or bus in minutes. And because of the variety and support provided by the cafes, the transit system, the density, the short distances, the many orientation points, and the clear differentiation of parts, walking and exploring in this city is a joy. 

In contrast, the trouble with Mrs. Blonder’s environment is that she cannot go out and find what she wants and needs, and she cannot go in and find it either. She cannot get far enough away from those machines and those divisive, isolating, impersonal systems. That’s just it—she cannot. 

It is no doubt true that many people find great satisfaction and meaning in Portland, but Mrs. Blonder’s needs are not unique, and the city should support everyone well, should it not? 

WK/1970  

Attracting Talent

The University of Oregon Student Recreation Center Expansion, a Robertson/Sherwood/Architects project

Attracting the best talent in today’s marketplace is a major challenge confronting many architecture firms. Demographic trends and the aftereffects of the 2008 recession have resulted in a persistent shortage of capable candidates for a surfeit of openings across the country. Additionally, profound changes for the AEP industry—ranging from new technologies to how practices are managed—threaten to leave behind those who are slow to adapt. 

My office, Robertson/Sherwood/Architects, is hoping to hire new staff to help us meet our current and projected workloads. We also want to position ourselves well for the long-term in a marketplace that will only become more competitive. This means vying for the attention of the best and brightest individuals possible. How do we do this? We can tout the remarkable variety of our work, our supportive office environment, and our competitive salary & benefits packages. We can appeal to prospects who prefer to live in a community like Eugene—smaller, less congested, and more affordable than bigger cities, while still offering access to good healthcare and schools, varied neighborhoods in which to live, outdoor recreation on our doorstep, and a multitude of cultural offerings. We can also promise opportunities for personal growth, professional advancement, and potentially positions of leadership within the firm. 

Millennials are the future of the profession. What do they want? By some accounts, it isn’t just money. Equally or more important is how stimulating their work is. Millennials crave opportunities to contribute in meaningful ways. They want to be difference makers. At the risk of grossly overgeneralizing an entire generation, they’re also risk-takers willing to chase the most attractive opportunities available. Given their current good fortunes, they can afford to be choosy but also footloose because greener pastures abound. 

So, recruiting is one thing. Retaining the best people is another challenge. Our office will benefit greatly from an injection of youthful energy, but we cannot afford to squander it. It’s not enough to give our young staff the opportunity to develop and reach their full potential; we must keep them engaged and invested in the future of the firm. We need their creativity, imagination, and talent so we prosper not only when work is plentiful but also when prospects are leaner because we know they inevitably will be again. Our continued success is contingent upon the degree to which we develop organizational agility and resilience. We believe our new staff will help us get there. We’re embracing change and looking forward to what the future will bring. 

Here’s our job posting. We’d love to hear from you if you want to learn more about what we have to offer. 

Robertson/Sherwood/Architects pc - Eugene
Open Positions: 

Robertson/Sherwood/Architects is looking for enthusiastic, career-oriented individuals to add to our team. Candidates must hold a degree from an accredited school of architecture, and already possess or be in active pursuit of professional licensure. Demonstrable design talent and the ability to think critically are essential, as are strong communication skills. Proficiency with Revit is a definite plus.

RSA’s hallmarks are attention to detail, focus on service, emphasis on the value of teamwork, and a supportive, family-friendly office culture. Our diverse portfolio of project types provides our staff with an exciting range of opportunities for professional growth. 

Interested? Send your resume (and work samples as a PDF or link to your online portfolio) by email to Randy Nishimura, AIA at rnishimura@robertsonsherwood.com.

2018 State Chapter Initiative

An enormously important election with huge implications for the future is rapidly approaching. No, I’m not talking about that election, as consequential as it may be for the country. I’m referring instead to a crucial vote that will affect every member of the American Institute of Architects in the State of Oregon for years to come. 

As I reported last fall, delegates from AIA chapters within the state and the staff of AIA Oregon have worked since 2013 on a proposal to unite the state’s four separate chapters into a single statewide body. The principal rationale favoring a single statewide chapter is that it would provide a better return for every membership dollar while strengthening the Oregon architectural community and the voice of our profession. 

Last month, AIA Oregon delegates approved a resolution to proceed with the merger plan, which means a statewide election involving all AIA members in the state. 

It behooves all of us (AIA members and associate members in Oregon) to be as informed as possible before helping render a crucial decision that will set the course of our professional association for many years. Simply put, the State Chapter Initiative election matters a lot. Here’s why:

1. A “yes” vote means the AIA in Oregon will transform as mentioned above from four separate chapters into a single AIA for all Oregon architects. If all chapters vote yes, the legal process to form the new AIA Oregon will proceed. 
2. If one or more chapters vote “no,” the current structure of four individual chapters will remain unchanged. There is a downside to a “no” vote, which is that at the national level, AIA has instituted new requirements requiring greater operational efficiency in all chapters. The risk is smaller chapters (namely Salem and Southern Oregon) may no longer be able to provide adequate services, and volunteer time and administrative costs will remain high. Ultimately, these smaller chapters may be forced to dissolve.
3. A “yes” vote means everyone would be a member of and pay dues to AIA Oregon and AIA National. In the place of local chapters, the plan is to organize AIA Oregon chapter “sections” in Portland, Salem, Eugene, Rogue Valley, and Bend. AIA Oregon members will have the option to select a section to join, but there will not be separate dues for section affiliation. The sections will do a lot of the same things the chapters do now, including planning and hosting events, hosting awards ceremonies and conferences, and cultivating and supporting a local community of architects. Like today’s chapters, tomorrow’s sections will be able to create committees, groups and task forces to address issues of interest to members. And they’ll each elect an AIA Oregon Director to represent them on the statewide board of directors. Unlike today’s chapters, sections will not be responsible for administration or managing the organization’s budget. They’ll receive support on communications, resource sharing, and other similar functions.
4. A “yes” vote means there will be a new dues structure that will help ensure all members have access to meaningful programs and services while meeting AIA National standards for core member services, including continuing education, professional development and advocacy. Architect members currently pay between $217 and $370 annually for their dues, including $120 for the Oregon State Council and between $97 and $250 additionally for local chapter dues. Under the new structure, dues for members statewide beginning in 2019 will be $349. For members in Southern Oregon and Salem, AIA Oregon shared reserves will be used to incrementally offset the increase in dues. Firm dues will be based on local market conditions and the real cost of chapter benefits.

My understanding is votes from each of the four current chapters will be tallied separately. If any one chapter fails to achieve a plurality in favor of the merger, the initiative will not pass and the status quo will be maintained. It’s an all or nothing proposition. If all the chapters support the merger, the transition would occur sometime in 2019. 

If the merger moves forward, the transition process will take 8 to 12 months to complete. During this period, the existing AIA Oregon board and chapters will remain as they are. Once the process is complete, everyone will become a member of the new AIA Oregon and have the option to select a local section to join. 

You can find plenty of additional information regarding the initiative on the AIA Oregon website. 

AIA-Southwestern Oregon is preparing ballots for distribution via snail mail to its members sometime this week. The ballots will include a draft of the new bylaws and articles of incorporation. The statewide goal is to complete the voting before the end of this month using mail-in ballots. AIA-SWO members please note: If your mailing info has changed, and not been updated with the AIA’s national office, AIA-SWO won't be able to mail your ballot to the correct address. If your mailing address is different from that listed in the national database, be sure to let AIA-SWO know right away at aiaswo@gmail.com. 

Want to make a recommendation or ask a question? Share your ideas, questions, or concerns via email at info@aia-oregon.org and someone from the AIA Oregon Board of Directors will get back to you as soon as possible. No matter what be sure to exercise your franchise by voting on this state chapter initiative.