The Boundless Dreams of a Kid

Calvin & Hobbes (most worshipfully borrowed from Bill Watterson for fair use).

I have always loved architecture. As a child, I discovered the work of Frank Lloyd Wright, and became utterly fascinated by the shapes, colors, and functions of all buildings. I spent countless hours drawing futuristic projects and planning entire cities teeming with skyscrapers. I dreamed of designing structures that would stand the test of time and inspire people. 

I did work hard and ultimately achieved my goal of becoming an architect. I studied diligently, gained valuable experience, and passed exams. Early on, I secured jobs with some prestigious firms and worked on notable and challenging projects. I have enjoyed a truly rewarding career and am proud of what I have accomplished and have been a part of. 

But sometimes, I do wonder about how things might have been different. What if I had followed another path? As kids are inclined to do, I often dreamed about leading an exciting—dare I say—glamorous grown-up life. Perhaps as a heroic spacefaring astronaut?  Or perhaps as an adventurous marine biologist, a dashing and determined fossil hunter, or a record-setting professional hockey player? What if I had pursued one (or more) of my other childhood passions? 

Astronaut Buzz Aldrin on the moon, July 1969 (photo by fellow astronaut Neil Armstrong).

Astronaut

I was born in the era of the space race. I grew up watching the Apollo moon missions on TV and reading about the adventures of the astronauts in magazines. I was amazed by their courage. They had the "right stuff." I wanted to be one of them. 

I imagined myself wearing a spacesuit and boarding a rocket. I experienced the thrill of liftoff and the surreal sensation of weightlessness once in orbit. I saw the Earth from above and the sparkling clarity of the stars suspended in the limitless blackness of space. I traveled to the Moon and Mars and distant galaxies beyond. 

I knew pursuing the dream of becoming an astronaut would not be an easy path. I knew it would take years of training, education, and physical fitness. The journey would be fraught with risks and sacrifices, but the allure of the cosmos was undeniable. 

Photo by NotBurtsBees, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Marine Biologist 

I was captivated by the ocean. I watched documentaries about the underwater world and its many exotic creatures. I was inspired by Jacques Cousteau and his expeditions on his research vessel, the Calypso. I wanted to be like him. 

I imagined myself diving under the waves with dolphins, sharks, whales, and more. I felt the wonder of discovering new species and habitats. I saw the beauty and diversity of coral reefs and kelp forests. I explored the depths and mysteries of the sea. 

I knew becoming a skilled marine biologist would be challenging. I knew it would require years of study, exhaustive research, and fieldwork. I knew it would involve challenges and dangers. But I also knew it would be immensely rewarding to help expand knowledge about the diversity and complexity of oceanic ecosystems. 

Paleontologist Paul Serrano (Photo by Oregon State University, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

Paleontologist

My fascination with Earth’s prehistoric past ran deep. I was spellbound by books on dinosaurs and their fossils. I was fascinated by the size, shape, and imagined behavior of such fantastic, long-extinct beasts. I wanted to be a paleontologist, a contributor to the understanding of the evolutionary history of life. 

I imagined myself wearing a safari hat while patiently digging in the dirt. I enjoyed the moment of excitement upon finding a fossilized bone, tooth, or footprint. I saw the history and evolution of life on Earth. I revealed ancient and extinct worlds. 

I knew becoming a paleontologist would not be a straightforward path. I knew it would require years of learning, analysis, peer-review, and publication. I knew it would demand patience and perseverance. But I also knew the study of ancient life would be gratifying beyond imagination.

(Photo by Keith Allison from Hanover, MD, USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

Professional Hockey Player

Like virtually every other boy growing up in Canada, I was passionate about hockey. It wasn’t merely a sport but a way of life. My brothers, friends, and I played hockey in the street every day after school. We would watch game after game on TV, while attending other must-see contests in person to cheer on my favorite team (the Vancouver Canucks). I wanted to be like the skilled and rugged players I followed as a young fan.

I imagined myself as a player in the National Hockey League, not unlike my childhood heroes: Gordie Howe, Jean Beliveau, Bobby Orr, Bobby Hull, and the other stars of the era. I felt the adrenaline of skating at full speed as I weaved among defenders and scored the game-winning goal. I saw the teamwork and strategy of the game. I was an ardent student of the skills and tactics of the sport.

I knew the path toward NHL stardom would not be an easy one. I knew it would require years of relentless practice, dedication, and raw talent. I knew it involved keen competition and the risk of injury. But the exhilaration of hockey at its highest level enthralled me. 

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These were some of the dreams I had as a kid. They were not all realistic, but they were fun and inspiring. They showed me the possibilities of life and the power of imagination. They shaped my personality and values. They made me who I am today. 

I don't for even a moment regret choosing architecture as my profession. I love my career and I'm grateful for it. But I also won't forget the other paths I could have taken. I still enjoy learning about space, the oceans, dinosaurs, and watching hockey. I still imagine what it would be like to be an astronaut, a marine biologist, a paleontologist, or a professional hockey player. 

I think that's the beauty of being a kid. You can dream of anything and everything. You can be anything and everything. You can have boundless dreams.

 

Architecture is Awesome: #33 Happy Clients

This is another in my series of posts inspired by 1000 Awesome Things, the Webby Award-winning blog written by Neil Pasricha. The series is my meditation on the awesome reasons why I was and continue to be attracted to the art of architecture.

There are few things more rewarding for me as an architect than witnessing the genuine smiles and expressions of delight from clients and users upon first enjoying the projects my colleagues and I have had a hand in designing. For me, such an experience is affirmation our work has connected with people on a fundamental level. Their happiness is a powerful reminder of why we do what we do, the impacts we have on their lives, and the lasting imprint we leave on the built environment.

Happy clients are a testament to the commitment of the entire design team to fulfil dreams. Most every project is one of a kind; the challenge thus lies in giving physical form to the very unique needs of those dreams. Our clients task us with understanding their needs and desires and translating them into practical reality. If we have done our jobs well, we will have designed spaces that resonate with our clients, the population they will directly serve, and the community as a whole. Their happiness validates the effort and dedication we invest in our work.

The process of design is a blend of science and art, a dance between form and function. The spaces we design have a profound impact on the daily experiences of those who inhabit or use them, and when clients are happy, it means we achieved an appropriate balance for them between aesthetics and functionality. You can say architects are in the business of crafting happiness, one space at a time. Seeing the joy of happy clients not only provides us with a momentary high, but also is the fuel that drives us to continue moving forward, learn from our experiences, and become better architects.

Happy clients often return with stories about how our designs have changed their lives for the better, whether it is in terms of their well-being, productivity, or quality of life. We enjoy the privilege of knowing that we have contributed to their happiness. Their joy radiates outward, impacting communities, and even inspiring others to embark on their own journeys of design and creativity. Happy clients not only validate our past work but also pave the way for future success. They become trusted advocates, returning with new projects, and referring others.

Whether it’s a family excitedly seeing the first renderings of their new home, people of all ages enjoying a public space for the first time, or employees discovering they can be the best they can be thanks to their well-designed workspaces, those moments of interaction are when we know the value of our work truly shines. The happiness of our clients is an AWESOME reminder that architecture has the power to enhance lives and make a positive impact.

Next Architecture is Awesome: #34 Adaptive Reuse

Integrating Services and Environmental Control

Richards Medical Research Laboratories – Louis I. Kahn, Architect. The brick shafts on the periphery of the Richards labs hold stairwells and HVAC ducts, providing an effect reminiscent of the ancient towers of San Gimignano, Italy that Kahn admired. (photo by Smallbones)

Consistent throughout Bill Kleinsasser’s many iterations of his self-published textbook SYNTHESIS are his reminders about how the architects’ work reveals what they have considered and whether they have accounted for everything necessary to create good places for people. Certainly, the successful integration of the technical systems that support a building’s purpose is essential to a thorough consideration of its design. 

Neglecting to adequately account for and integrate these systems can lead to inefficient and problematic buildings. This neglect can be a result of a misalignment of priorities, poor communication among the members of the design team (architects and their engineers too often work in separate silos), or simply a lack of knowledge and experience on the part of the architects.
 
In the following, somewhat wanting excerpt from SYNTHESIS, Bill strove to succinctly express the importance of considering the needs of a building’s technical systems. In my opinion, Bill could and should have written more to expand upon the necessity of aligning aesthetics, spatial design, and fundamentally the project’s organizational structure with the technical demands of a building’s service and environmental control systems. He certainly could have utilized a case study to illustrate how exemplary projects successfully integrated a myriad of technical systems. Nevertheless, his fundamental premise is clear: Design synthesis requires consideration of many essential concerns if a building’s design is to be unified, eloquent, and complete.
 
Technical Systems
Select and design environmental control and other systems that will appropriately serve required spaces without waste or confusion by:

• Determining spatial intent and the kind of services needed.
• Selecting appropriate systems.
• Diagramming the essential disciplines of each system; that is, diagramming their controlling characteristics vis-à-vis organization of spaces.
• Integrating the requirements of the spatial system with the essential disciplines of the service/environmental control systems. Service/environmental control systems may include those for heating, cooling, ventilating, lighting, water supply, waste disposal, drainage, electrical service, communication (television, radio, TV, computer), special circulation (elevator, escalator), fire protection (sprinklers, smoke detection), and special laboratory services.

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As I’ve mentioned previously, Bill never hesitated to use the words of others to illuminate the frames of reference he defined as essential to the creation of truly good architecture. He included the following quotations from Louis Kahn in his fifth edition of SYNTHESIS to better convey the necessity of respecting the technical systems as organizational decisions are made:
 
“I do not like ducts, I do not like pipes. I hate them really thoroughly, but because I hate them so thoroughly, I feel they have to be given their place. If I just hated them and took no care, I think they would invade the building and completely destroy it. I want to correct any notion you may have that I am in love with that kind of thing.”
 
“CLIENT:  Well, now that we have the general form, we have to put in all the guts and see if we can fit them in.
 
ARCHITECT:  If they don’t all fit in easily and properly, then we have the wrong form.”
 
“Engineering is not one thing and design another. They must be one and the same thing.” (Louis I. Kahn)

The Challenge of Budget Constraints

Cost limitations are an almost universal challenge in construction projects. Owners typically have a predetermined budget for their project, so the realities of construction costs force them to make difficult decisions about project scope, quality, or even whether the project can proceed. To address cost limitations, owners may need to work closely with their architects and contractors to identify effective solutions.
 
While architects like to boast that creativity thrives within constraints and need not be compromised, my experience has taught me that successful cost management usually demands more than the architect alone can deliver. Open communication and collaboration between the owner, architect, and contractor from the project’s inception are clearly effective strategies for maximizing the value of construction projects. Consequently, the choice of project delivery method may be the single most impactful consideration influencing the outcome of a building project, particularly in terms of cost.
 
There are various project delivery methods in common usage today, each with its own advantages and disadvantages. The architect typically works closely with the owner to select the one that best aligns with the project budget and expectations.
 
Design-Bid-Build (DBB): In this traditional method, the architect completes the design before the project goes out for bid. While it provides a clear picture of the final design, it can be challenging to control costs once construction begins. The use of bid alternates—optional elements that can be added to or removed from the project—is a common practice for providing flexibility in the project pricing and decision-making processes. Including bid alternates means that some elements of the design are inherently uncertain until after bidding is complete.
 
Design-Build (DB): In the design-build approach, a single entity handles both design and construction, providing a “turnkey” service for the owner. This method can streamline the process but may limit the architect's control over the project's budget and design.
 
Construction Management (CM): Construction management involves hiring a construction manager to oversee the project. It can provide more control over costs and scheduling but requires architects to work closely with multiple parties. The CM often additionally functions as the General Contractor, in which instances the method is referred to as the CM/GC project delivery method.
 
Integrated Project Delivery (IPD): IPD promotes collaboration between all project stakeholders from the beginning and in its characteristic usage is applied on particularly large and complex projects with high sustainability goals. It can lead to better cost control and design outcomes but requires a high level of coordination.
 
According to a 2018 article in Construction Dive, design-bid-build remains the most widely used construction model; however, my anecdotal accounting suggests DB, CM, IPD and other alternative project delivery methods are since rapidly usurping the dominance of DBB.
 
The choice of which delivery method is best depends on a project’s specific needs and goals and requires a thorough understanding of the key attributes of the various methods. That said, design and construction are notoriously complex undertakings, more so with each passing year. Even seemingly modest projects can benefit from using DB, CM, or IPD instead of the conventional Design-Bid-Build process. This is particularly true when budget considerations are paramount.
 
Effective value engineering, risk assessment, regular cost monitoring, contingency planning, and transparency in financial matters and decisions likewise flourish when open communication and collaboration between owners, architects, and contractors exist. Regular and timely evaluation of a project’s scope and design help identify areas where cost savings can be achieved without compromising quality or safety. While not always effortless, such evaluations during the design process are far less painful than ones conducted only after a building’s plans are complete and the bid results are an unwelcome surprise.  
 
Value engineering is a systematic and creative approach to improving the value of a project by optimizing its design, materials, and construction methods. One of the challenges of value engineering is striking the right balance between cost savings and design integrity. Careful assessment of which elements of the design can be modified or substituted without compromising the project's overall vision is necessary. This can be a delicate and often frustrating process as it requires letting go of some design elements that may be personally meaningful or artistically important. Value engineering should not be a one-time event and it should allow for adjustments as new information becomes available or project circumstances change.
 
By working collaboratively, project teams mutually share their expertise. I have a tremendous amount of respect for what contractors bring to the table. Their knowledge and experience are invaluable to the design process, bolstering the argument in favor of one of the delivery methods that is inherently collaborative in nature. Architects (and many owners) tend to be dreamers and visionaries, so bringing contractors—as well as the owner’s facility manager and maintenance team—on board from the beginning injects an often sobering and necessary dose of reality into the design or value engineering processes.  

 

LCC Health Professions Building under construction (my photo)

A useful case study of a collaborative process is the new Lane Community College Health Professions Building, currently under construction. My firm, Robertson/Sherwood/Architects, is the executive architect, while Mahlum Architects is the lead design firm. Fortis Construction is the Construction Manager/General Contractor. From the outset, the 31,280 SF, 3-story project has been strapped by a tight budget. Addressing the cost limitation challenges has truly been a team effort. Fortis provided critical cost evaluation and constructability input throughout the design phase, which ultimately resulted in a solution that is necessarily lean yet fulfills all programmatic requirements. Once complete, the Health Professions Building will provide LCC with the facility it originally envisioned, a new campus gateway centered on equity and inclusion as core values for the college’s Medical Assistant, Dental Assisting, Dental Hygiene, and Emergency Medical Services programs.
 
The disappointments and design compromises that do result from budget constraints can be disheartening, but they are an inevitable part of the design and construction process. Ultimately, the goal is to strike a balance between creativity and fiscal responsibility. While cost limitations may necessitate concessions, they also present opportunities for innovative and collaborative problem-solving in the creation of designs that are both functional and budget friendly.   

Eugene/Architecture/Alphabet: O

Olive Plaza (my photo)

This is the next in my Eugene/Architecture/Alphabet series of blog posts, the focus of each being a landmark building here in Eugene. Many of these will be familiar to most who live here but there are likely to be a few buildings that are less so. My selection criteria for each will be threefold:

1. The building must be of architectural interest, local importance, or historically significant.
2. The building must be extant so you or I can visit it in person.
3. Each building’s name will begin with a particular letter of the alphabet, and I must select one (and only one) for each of the twenty-six letters. This is easier said than done for some letters, whereas for other characters there is a surfeit of worthy candidates (so I’ll be discriminating and explain my choice in those instances).

This entry’s selection begins with the letter O, for which my choice is Olive Plaza.
 
Olive Plaza
Olive Plaza is located at 1133 Olive Street, at the intersection of Olive and 11^th Avenue in downtown Eugene. The twelve-story tall building accommodates very low-income seniors and persons with physical disabilities in its 150 one-bedroom, self-contained apartments. The National Benevolent Association constructed Olive Plaza during the late 1970s as a HUD Section 202 project. It has provided eligible individuals ever since with the opportunity to live independently, but in an environment that provides support activities such as cleaning, cooking, and transportation. Christian Church Homes of Oregon is the building’s current owner, and Viridian Management is its operator. The Portland firm of Broome, Oringdulph, O’Toole, Rudolf & Associates (BOORA) was the architect.
 
Because it was an unreservedly plain and straightforward design strapped by a miserly budget, BOORA chose to rely upon the superficial application of a distinctive exterior color scheme to provide Olive Plaza with visual interest. Originally sporting a decidedly Seventies palette comprised of ochers, pinks, and reds, the current range of colors and outwardly random patterning (developed by my firm, Robertson/Sherwood/Architects) are meant to fragment one’s perception of the building’s considerable bulk. Inspired by the “dazzle” camouflage used on ships during World War I, the various areas of color seemingly recede or advance even though they may occupy the same wall plane. Dazzle camouflage disrupted an adversary's perception of a ship's size, shape, and speed. The intent was not to hide the ship but to make it more challenging for enemy submarines to accurately estimate its course and range. Olive Plaza’s “camouflage” likewise isn’t intended to hide the building, but rather to disrupt the reading of its size.
 

Olive Plaza's "camouflage."

Olive Plaza, Google Street view.

USS West Mahomet in "dazzle" camouflage, circa 1918 (photo from the Naval History & Heritage Command, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

 
Olive Plaza is otherwise most notable as an example of a multistory building that utilizes the lift-slab type of structural system. Popular at the time of its construction, the lift slab technique has since fallen from favor. The method involved casting and curing concrete floor slabs at ground level that were then lifted into position using hydraulic jacks. The method was particularly suitable for large, repetitive floor plates, which Olive Plaza possesses. The repetitive nature of lift-slab construction made it especially efficient and economical for constructing buildings with multiple floors.
 
Lift slab construction has faced safety concerns, some of which stemmed from design flaws, inadequate construction practices, or unforeseen complications during the lifting process. One of the most notorious lift-slab construction failures occurred in London in 1968 when a partial collapse of the Ronan Point apartment building took place. The building's lift-slab system was partially blamed for the severity of the collapse. Consequently, use of lift-slab construction had already waned considerably in the years following the Ronan Point incident when Olive Plaza was designed.

 

Diagram by Amanda044, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Due to concerns for the structural integrity of Olive Plaza, especially as experts increasingly understood the risks posed by deformation of the Cascadia Subduction Zone, HUD mandated seismic provisions for existing buildings in accordance with ASCE 41 (a nationally recognized standard for seismic analysis and rehabilitation). Christian Church Homes again called upon Robertson/Sherwood/Architects for design assistance to improve the building’s ability to withstand a massive seismic event. Working with Miyamoto International for structural engineering services, our team’s solution employed a cost-effective and reliable system of fiber-reinforced polymer (FRP) strips added at critical locations to assist in the transference of lateral forces. The 2014-2016 project also involved retrofitting of steel angles at the building’s columns to help resist uplift caused by vertical acceleration in an earthquake.

 

Column reinforcement installed as part of the 2014-2016 seismic upgrade project (my photo).

While not an architectural standout, Olive Plaza is a valuable community asset, as it provides a substantial number of subsidized apartments for low-income residents in a downtown location. Such buildings are far too uncommon during a time when affordable housing options are desperately needed in Eugene.