Architecture is Awesome: #38 Seeing Stonework Sparkle Like New

Inside the nave of the reconstructed Notre-Dame de Paris (photo by Quirinale.it, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=156416099)

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’s something magical about seeing a place you thought you knew suddenly transformed. It’s like meeting an old friend who shows up glowing with joy—still the same, but somehow more alive.  

That was my reaction upon seeing photos of the newly restored Notre-Dame de Paris. After five years of painstaking work following the devastating 2019 fire, the iconic cathedral has reopened, brighter and cleaner than it’s been in centuries or perhaps than it’s ever been. What a difference.  

I visited Notre-Dame in 1979, stepping inside on a gray, blustery All Saints’ Day. The interior was dim, shadowy, and cloaked in centuries of mystery. Candlelight flickered on soot-darkened walls. It was hauntingly beautiful, in the way only something so old can be.  

Now? Notre-Dame absolutely sparkles in photographs. Workers meticulously cleaned its stonework, revealing the original limestone as it once was. The stained glass certainly appears brighter and more vivid than I remember. It’s as if someone pushed the “restore to factory settings” button, removing layers of lampblack to unveil the cathedral as its original builders envisioned it. The result is a reminder that restoration isn’t about erasing history but rather about revealing it.  

Some people aren’t so thrilled. They say Notre-Dame has lost its character, that the dim, dusty gloom was part of its soul. I get it. That aged patina was steeped in history, a connection to centuries of pilgrimage and prayers. On the other hand, Gothic cathedrals were meant to dazzle. Their architecture was about light, color, and lifting medieval spirits skyward.  

How I remember the nave appearing, before the fire (photo by Willtron, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=351596)

If I am fortunate enough to visit Paris again, I expect entering the restored Notre-Dame will feel dreamlike. Relying solely on the pictures that have been circulated widely, the soaring vaults seem even taller now. The bright LED lighting—the target of much of the criticism from detractors—makes the stone appear luminous. The intricate carvings pop against the gleaming masonry.  

The sleek, contemporary design of the new altar by Guillaume Bardet has also raised some eyebrows. But to me, it’s a sign that Notre-Dame isn’t just a relic of the past. It is very much alive, growing, evolving—a bridge between what was and what can be.  

Inside Notre-Dame, the weight of time is palpable—and for those who believe, so is the hope of renewal. The space has seen war, revolution, and fire, yet the cathedral still stands, a testament to all those who invested immense efforts in maintaining or repairing it over the centuries. Notre-Dame is a magnificent monument to the human spirit, one everyone agrees was worthy of the most reverent restoration possible.  

Seeing something ancient shine like new? That’s AWESOME. 

Next Architecture is Awesome: #39 The Comfort of a Corner

  

Homogenized Glory

Lucas Oil Stadium (photo by SounderBruce, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

As I write this, the University of Oregon Ducks football squad is the number one-ranked team in the land, the prospect of a national championship squarely in its sights. They’re one step closer to this goal, as the Ducks vanquished the Penn State Nittany Lions yesterday evening to capture the 2024 Big Ten Conference Championship. As an unwavering Oregon fan, I’m ecstatic. And yet, my exhilaration is tempered by structural changes across the college football landscape, of which the venue for the Big Ten Championship game—Lucas Oil Stadium, home field of the Indianapolis Colts of the National Football League—is symptomatic. 

Modern NFL stadiums, while architecturally impressive, often feel "sterile" as venues for college football conference championships. This sterility stems from their hyper-engineered environments, prioritizing luxury and versatility over the intimate, idiosyncratic qualities that define college football traditions. Architecturally, their sleek, uniform designs and controlled atmospheres lack the contextual character of on-campus stadiums, which are deeply tied to collegiate identity. 

The newest NFL stadiums excel at accommodating large crowds and delivering innovative amenities, but I believe this very efficiency dilutes the distinct, emotional connection fans have with their teams. Their expansive, cavernous interiors, and retractable roofs neutralize the raw energy and unpredictability of outdoor games, a hallmark of college football. Iconic collegiate venues resonate because they are imperfect yet authentic, with quirks that evoke history and rivalry. 

While pro stadiums offer a polished stage for grand events, their neutrality homogenizes the college football experience, making it feel more like a spectacle than a tradition. For college football fans, who value legacy and connection, the architectural identity of the venue plays a crucial role in shaping the intensity and nostalgia that make the sport unique. 

Favoring modern NFL stadiums as host sites for college football championships or playoff games (1) mirrors broader cultural shifts in the sport, driven by conference realignment, N.I.L. and the transfer portal. These architectural and systemic changes together dilute the tradition and intimacy many older fans treasure. The increased professionalization of college football through N.I.L. and the transfer portal fosters a more transactional, less enduring sense of team culture, eroding the long-term relationships between players, schools, and fans that once defined the sport. Fans accustomed to grassroots traditions now experience a landscape where player movement and monetization align more with professional sports than collegiate ideals. The architectural sterility of the NFL venues amplifies this sense of loss, symbolizing the shift from community-driven tradition to a market-driven spectacle. 

For old-timers like me, these changes highlight a departure from the deeply personal and regional essence of college football, transforming it into a polished but impersonal product. It’s a different game—shiny and exciting but often bereft of the quirks and stories that drew me to the sport in the first place. 

(1)  The first round of the 12-team playoff games will occur at the home field of the higher-seeded team in each matchup. The Ducks—who will enjoy a bye and not have to play in the first round—will appear in the quarterfinals at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena on January 1st, a classic bowl site. Thankfully, the “Granddaddy of Them All” remains a prestigious vestige of college football’s traditions.

Architect Emeritus

 

Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash.

 
Come January I will no longer be eligible to actively practice architecture as I will have relinquished my professional registration. In keeping with OAR 806-010-0075 this means I will not be able to offer services related to the planning, designing, or observing of the erection, enlargement, or alteration of any building or of any appurtenance thereto other than exempted buildings. And in accordance with ORS 671.020 I won’t be able to use the title of “Architect” or any title, sign, cards, or device indicating, or tending to indicate that I am practicing architecture or continue to be an architect.
 
While this change will mark the official end of my professional career in architecture, I will be able to retain formal recognition of my contributions to the field. In Oregon, the title “Architect Emeritus” is available for eligible retired architects. The benefits of the Emeritus status include being allowed to keep a professional title without the responsibilities of active practice. It also simplifies the process of returning to active practice in the future if I wanted (unlikely, but it is nice the option for reinstatement is there for me).
 
To qualify for Emeritus status, an architect must be at least 60 years old and have practiced architecture in a recognized jurisdiction for a minimum of 20 years. Additionally, they must have held an Oregon certificate of registration as an individual architect for at least 10 consecutive years. Because I am 65 years old and have practiced architecture for 39 years— the last 35 of them in Oregon—I easily fulfill these requirements.
 
The application process involved submitting a complete application to the Oregon State Board of Architect Examiners (OSBAE) and obtaining written approval, which I have received. Notably, there are no fees associated with obtaining or maintaining Emeritus status.
 
The American Institute of Architects likewise offers complimentary Emeritus membership status to its retired members. The requirements for AIA Member Emeritus status include a minimum of 25 years of membership in the institute, being retired (no longer signing or sealing architectural drawings, marketing services as an architect, and refraining from establishing a firm or business name that implies a continuation of architectural practice) and being 70 years of age or older. Since I’m only 65, I applied for a waiver of the age requirement, which the AIA approved. I can now use the title of “AIA Member Emeritus” in my correspondence and will continue to enjoy the full suite of AIA benefits. These benefits include member discounts for attendance at AIA-sponsored events, the AIA member newsletter, and various AIA-affiliated consumer and trade discounts.
 
The transition to Emeritus status feels like both an end and a beginning. To further acknowledge my transition from licensed practitioner to retiree, I have changed the name of this blogsite to SW Oregon Architect Emeritus. With this move, I promise to explore new ways to engage the built environment, not as a practitioner but as an observer and advocate. Whether visiting architectural landmarks, contemplating the future of design, or enjoying simpler pursuits, I will continue to share my insights and discoveries along the way.
 
Thanks as always for joining me on this journey—I’m excited to see where it leads.  

Architecture is Awesome: #37 Standing the Test of Time

Eugene Public Library (photo credit: Eckert & Eckert)

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. 

For a building to stand the test of time, it must do far more than endure physically. True longevity arises from a building’s ability to adapt, resonate emotionally, and maintain cultural relevance as decades and even centuries pass. Such architecture doesn’t merely withstand the elements—it weathers the shifts in society, technology, and human priorities, remaining both functional and meaningful. 

Durability is the most tangible element of this equation. Buildings that last are crafted with care, using materials and construction methods chosen not only for their strength but also for their ability to age gracefully. A well-built structure is not a disposable product; it reflects an investment in the future. But durability is only the beginning. A structure must also be adaptable, capable of responding to the inevitable evolution of its purpose. For example, a warehouse might become loft apartments, a church might become a cultural center, or a library might expand to meet the needs of new generations of users. Physical robustness and flexibility in design together form the foundation of enduring architecture. 

Yet even the most resilient and adaptable building can falter if it lacks timelessness. What makes a design timeless? It is not about clinging to traditional forms or avoiding contemporary styles, but rather about creating spaces that speak to universal human experiences. Proportion, light, and materiality are enduring elements of design that, when used thoughtfully, create an emotional resonance transcending specific eras. A timeless building does not date itself with fleeting trends but instead conveys a sense of permanence and purpose that feels as relevant fifty years after its construction as on the day it opened. 

Equally important, a building that stands the test of time must connect with its community. This connection is not limited to the functional value it provides but extends to the emotional and cultural ties it fosters. A well-loved building becomes part of the identity of its city or town, earning a place in collective memory. People invest in buildings they care about—physically, financially, and emotionally—ensuring they remain vibrant and useful for future generations. 

The Eugene Public Library, a project I had the privilege to help design, serves as an example of these principles in action. The design team envisioned the library not just as a repository for books but as a civic landmark, a place for learning, connection, and quiet reflection. From the outset, we sought to create a building that would endure physically and culturally. We selected durable materials and planned for future adaptability, including provisions for a fourth-floor expansion under the building’s vaulted roof. 

We also prioritized timelessness in our design for the library. We designed light-filled reading rooms, a grand rotunda, and inviting public spaces that evoke openness and inspiration. We avoided architectural trends that might quickly date the building, focusing instead on forms and materials that balanced innovation with classic principles. Our approach aligned with Louis Kahn’s idea that architecture begins with the room—a space that elevates the mind and spirit while meeting practical needs. 

However, physical durability and timelessness alone are not enough to ensure that a building stands the test of time. The Eugene Public Library has succeeded in large part because it resonates deeply with the city of which it is apart. It is a quintessential “third place,” providing a vital communal space outside the home and workplace. Importantly too, a successful library is a place of transition and continuity, adapting to change while serving as a steadfast anchor in its community. The rise of digital media, shifts in public funding priorities, and evolving urban dynamics have all tested the Eugene Public Library since its opening twenty-two years ago. And yet, I am optimistic about its future. A building that people care about is more likely to be maintained, modernized, and preserved. Our library’s enduring appeal ensures that it will remain a valued part of Eugene’s cultural and architectural fabric. 

Ultimately, what it means for a building to stand the test of time is rooted in this interplay of durability, timelessness, adaptability, and community connection. Architecture that endures serves not only its immediate function but also a greater purpose: providing stability in a changing world, anchoring our collective identity, and inspiring future generations. 

Change is inevitable, but buildings that stand the test of time are those that embrace it without losing their essence. They adapt to new realities while remaining deeply connected to their origins. In doing so, they become more than mere structures—they become AWESOME living monuments, bridges between past and future, and steadfast companions in the journey of human life. 

Next Architecture is Awesome:  #38 Seeing Stonework Sparkle Like New

The Human Touch in a High-Tech Future

Still from "The Ultimate Computer," the twenty-fourth episode of the television series Star Trek, in which the crew of the Enterprise race to disable a rogue computer in total control of the ship.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately (I’ve got time on my hands!) about how advances in artificial intelligence (AI) and quantum computing might transform the architectural profession. I consider myself to be something of a futurist, so science fiction visions of the future have always captivated me. A case in point: How the crew of the Starship Enterprise interacted with their computer in the original Star Trek series on TV. With simple conversational voice commands, they could instantly retrieve complex answers or design solutions. That seamless human-computer collaboration feels increasingly plausible.

The rapid progress of AI and quantum computing suggests that architects might one day design by merely describing their vision to an AI assistant, which could generate and refine solutions in real time. Natural language processing (NLP) tools already demonstrate impressive capabilities, and quantum computing is poised to amplify this.

For those unfamiliar, quantum computing leverages the principles of quantum mechanics to process information far faster than classical computers. Where classical systems use binary bits (0s and 1s), quantum bits (qubits) can exist in multiple states simultaneously, enabling exponentially faster calculations. As quantum computing becomes practical for everyday use—perhaps within the next decade—it could revolutionize fields that rely on solving complex problems, such as architectural design. 

Imagine combining quantum-powered AI with hyper-realistic virtual reality (VR). An architect could walk clients through a fully immersive, life-sized simulation of their building before it’s even built. Material choices, lighting, and spatial adjustments could be altered on the spot, with the AI recalculating costs, structural implications, and environmental impacts instantaneously.

Such technology could dramatically increase productivity and reduce the time it takes to turn a vision into reality. Routine design tasks—checking for code compliance, optimizing for energy efficiency, or integrating complex systems—could be managed by AI, freeing architects to focus on creative and strategic decisions. Projects that once took weeks to iterate might be resolved in hours, enabling faster responses to client feedback and more ambitious designs.

Bev Smith, executive director of the Eugene Civic Alliance, virtually experiencing the design of the KIDSPORTS fieldhouse during the design phase in 2017. Back then, the VR technology was pretty clunky but hinted at its potential. Today, that technology is advancing exponentially. (My photo)

This vision raises questions about the role of architects in a world where machines can oversee so much. Would architects become mere curators of AI-generated designs? Would the profession lose its creative essence, its human touch?

A crucial factor is whether true artificial general intelligence (AGI)—machines capable of human-like reasoning and creativity—materializes. AGI could theoretically absorb cultural histories, empathize with user needs, and craft designs as nuanced as any human architect’s work.

Mainstream AI researchers foresee AGI soon being plausible, thanks to advances in quantum computing, machine learning, and neural networks. With enough data and computational power, AGI might be able to design not just functional buildings, but spaces imbued with emotional and cultural resonance.

That said, I can’t imagine human architects disappearing entirely. While AI might simulate creativity and moral reasoning, it won’t be able to truly understand human emotions and context. Architects bring empathy, cultural awareness, and moral judgment to the table—qualities that are hard to reduce to algorithms. Architects will continue to function as guides, steering AI to create designs that serve both the user and society.

This collaborative model could be incredibly empowering. Architects would work alongside AGI, harnessing its computational power while steering its output to reflect human priorities. The result? A dynamic partnership where technology enhances human creativity rather than replacing it.

Of course, this partnership will have its share of challenges. There are some ethical and professional concerns: 

Accountability:

If an AI-driven system makes a design decision that leads to a failure—be it structural, environmental, or aesthetic—who is responsible? Architects will need to balance trust in the technology with rigorous oversight.

Bias and Transparency:

AI systems learn from data, which may carry biases. An architect’s role will include identifying and mitigating these biases to ensure equitable, inclusive outcomes.

Intellectual Property:

Who owns an AI-generated design? As technology blurs the lines between human and machine authorship, architects may face new legal and ethical questions about credit and compensation.

Skill Development:

If AI takes over routine tasks, how will emerging professionals develop the critical thinking and judgment needed to guide complex projects? Architectural education and mentorship models will need to adapt, emphasizing skills that complement AI rather than compete with it.

Existential Threat:

Notwithstanding my argument above, could AGI ultimately render architects obsolete? This scenario is not entirely far-fetched. As AI systems become ever more proficient, society might begin to question whether architects are needed at all. A tipping point will arrive when machines will seemingly take on many of the most human aspects of design. This could lead to a profound reevaluation of the architectural profession and its place in society.

Image generated by AI.

I am cautiously optimistic. Even as technology advances exponentially, I believe it will still be a human architect who is needed to know what it means to create spaces that resonate on a human level. Machines could handle the technical aspects of design, but architecture is as much about storytelling as it is about problem-solving. Until AGI can tell those stories with the depth and empathy of the human mind, architects will continue to play a leading role.

The future of architecture will undoubtedly be shaped by AI and quantum computing. These technologies promise to revolutionize the way we design, visualize, and construct the built environment. But they also challenge us to ask: What makes architecture, architecture? For me, the answer once again lies in the human touch. Architects don’t just create buildings--they create experiences. And while technology can make the process more efficient, it is our empathy, creativity, and cultural understanding that give architecture its meaning. I predict a future where architects and machines truly collaborate, each playing to their strengths. It’s a partnership that unlocks possibilities while preserving the uniquely human essence of architecture. 

The 2024 Election results are in. Now what for architects?

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

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Donald Trump won last Tuesday’s 2024 U.S. presidential election (convincingly), with Republicans gaining control of the Senate and poised to win the House of Representatives. Many voters cited the economy as their top issue, though abortion rights, border security and immigration, climate change, foreign policy, and the future of democracy itself also weighed heavily as they cast their votes. Pundits across the country are now speculating about the implications of the broad mandate a second Trump administration will command upon its return to the White House on January 20, 2025.
 
I’ll start by saying I am most decidedly not fond of politics, especially the rancorous debate or conflict that has accompanied recent elections. Because I am not an American citizen, I cannot directly take part in this nation’s vote. That doesn’t mean I am immune to the fallout. I lament the extreme polarization, rampant disinformation, and the unwillingness to find common ground during every election season and especially this most recent one. Even if I had wanted to, I could not put my head in the sand and ignore what was happening around me. The fact is the next four years will be of great consequence for everyone here in the U.S. and around the world, so I must care. The results of this cycle’s election will resonate for generations.
 
As a (now retired) architect, I have a specific interest in what the election results mean for the future of the architectural profession and the built environment. With Trump’s victory and Republican majorities in both the House and Senate, the 2025 legislative and executive landscape is likely to prioritize deregulation, traditional infrastructure projects, and conservative tax policies. The consequences for the design and construction industries will be significant. Here’s a breakdown of what these changes could mean for architects:
 
Reduced Environmental Regulations and Green Building Standards
Trump has a track record of easing environmental regulations, and a Republican-controlled Congress is likely to support further rollbacks. Federal emissions standards and environmental protections will undoubtedly be loosened, reducing the costs of compliance. If energy efficiency and emissions guidelines are relaxed and disincentivized, fewer public and private projects will prioritize sustainable certifications such as LEED. This in turn will affect the green building sector, potentially reversing decades of environmental gains.
 
Increased Spending for Traditional Infrastructure
If Trump favors infrastructure development, it is for highways, bridges, and conventional energy projects. With a supportive Congress, he is likely to push for increased funding in these areas. Architects involved in transportation, industrial, and large-scale public infrastructure may stand to benefit. On the other hand, this emphasis could mean fewer funds dedicated to climate-resilient infrastructure, potentially impacting the profession’s shift towards climate-adaptive design.
 
Tax Cuts and Economic Incentives
Republicans will prioritize the passage of corporate tax cuts, which may lower tax burdens on architecture firms and potentially increase investment in private-sector projects. Reduced corporate taxes could provide firms with more capital to invest in technology, staffing, and new business opportunities. On the downside, lower federal revenue from tax cuts could result in fewer funds available for public-sector projects, especially those dedicated to community development and affordable housing.
 
Decreased Funding for Affordable Housing
Speaking of affordable housing, funding for such projects or programs are likely to see cuts under Trump’s leadership. HUD grants or subsidies for low-income housing may be deprioritized, reducing the availability of affordable housing projects for architects specializing in community development. Private developers could step in to fill some of this gap, but the loss of federal incentives will dramatically slow new affordable housing initiatives, particularly in high-demand urban areas, even as they are needed now more than ever before.
 
Trade and Tariff Policies
Trump has promised to levy significant tariffs on imported goods and building materials. If protectionist trade restrictions on materials like steel and aluminum are reinstated or intensified, construction material costs will rise, triggering inflation and affecting budgets for both public and private construction projects. Higher material costs will set back project funding, especially for those sensitive to budget constraints, particularly affordable housing or public-sector infrastructure. In this regard, the Trump administration would be working at cross purposes, simultaneously trying to stimulate development with deregulation and tax cuts while imposing cost burdens that discourage construction.
 
The American Institute of Architects outlined its top election priorities in advance of the election. These focused on the need for increased investment in affordable housing, aggressive climate action measures, enhanced resiliency against natural disasters, and sound tax policies (such as implementing increases in the Low-Income Housing Tax Credit). Needless to say, not all the AIA’s priorities hew closely to those of the incoming Trump administration. The Institute now needs to recalibrate its advocacy efforts by proactively adapting to the new political dynamic. I’m not sure what form this recalibration will take, but perhaps it should take stock of its priorities while still upholding its core values (sustainability, resilience, affordable housing, and equity, diversity, & inclusion).
 
Of course, a fully realized Trump agenda will be sweeping on many fronts beyond those specific to impacts on the practice of architecture and building construction. If his first term as president serves as evidence (and for better or worse) the probability of a wild, unpredictable ride during his second term is high. He is simply too impulsive, quick to shift positions based on political or personal advantage rather than on any set of principles he stands on. Conventional norms hold little sway with him. His moral outlook is unmoored, largely shaped by self-interest, expedience, his drive to expand presidential powers, and a desire to disrupt the status quo. I simply chose to highlight those issues of particular interest to the architectural profession. Architects need to gird themselves for a challenging policy environment, finding ways to reconcile professional obligations with shifting political priorities.

. . . and Architecture and . . .

 

I enjoyed a lengthy conversation over coffee this weekend with John Webster, AIA, one of my former coworkers at Robertson/Sherwood/Architects. We met to catch up, discuss how things are going at the firm, and what I’ve been up to during the first few months of my life in retirement. John will be director-elect for the Eugene Section of AIA Oregon as of January 2025, so another of the topics on our agenda was how the organization might better serve its members.
 
John suggested that I should consider submitting a proposal for an education session at AIA25 in Boston (albeit the deadline for submitting one just passed on October 28). My reaction was to ask, “what could I present that anyone would possibly find interesting or useful?” John answered by saying that I was underselling myself, that by virtue of my experience I have insights of value to share. In particular, he said he admired my ability to draw connections between architecture and the broader context within which it exists and within which architects work.
 
I admit to being fascinated by those connections. I have written with some regularity about an assortment of subjects or fields and how they relate to architecture. These include the following blog entries:

• Architecture and the Human Condition
• Philosophy and the Metaphysics of Architecture
• Morality and Architecture
• Architecture and the Culture Wars
• Monarchy and Architecture
• Automobiles and Architecture
• Taiko and Architecture
• Sculpture and Architecture
• Airplanes and Architecture

The common use of the conjunction “and” in their respective titles is not a coincidence. I purposely try to broaden and add depth to my understanding of architecture by drawing such connections, even as some may seem incongruent or at best tangential upon first blush. A consistent goal of mine has been to construct a narrative about architecture’s multifaceted nature, to explore it holistically and from as many perspectives as possible in the pursuit of greater truths.
 
I have long wanted to believe there is an objective and all-encompassing formula or theory underlying the production of architecture—essentially an architectural “theory of everything.” I want to find a recipe for (in the words of philosopher Ken Wilber) a “radical wholeness.” Perhaps Christopher Alexander has come closest to achieving this goal. He was notable for articulating the “patterns of life” necessary to creating a sense of well-being and connection to the natural world in the places where we live and work. I do generally subscribe to Alexander’s vision of a living world and his notions of order and wholeness in design. Nikos Salingaros is another thinker I know of who believes elemental rules exist that govern generative patterns linking architectural and urban forms to human sensibilities. Whether expressed as patterns or generative rules, it is the importance of understanding the connections between elements within and without a design that stands out. Fundamentally, architecture is intertwined with systems thinking.
 
The world is unimaginably complex. Systems thinking emphasizes viewing systems as wholes rather than merely the sum of their parts. Such an outlook—which is imperative if we are to adequately tackle the immense challenges confronting our species—acknowledges the existence of adaptive processes that evolve and change over time. In architectural terms this means recognizing the interconnectedness of various systems, whether natural or made by humans, so that architects can design buildings that are harmonious with their surroundings and more resilient and adaptable to changing conditions.
 
Many consider architecture to be a discrete field of study. To the credit of the profession, architects tend to think otherwise. This comes as a default condition, as architects are trained to see the big picture and most often charged with responsibility for organizing and managing the overall production of a suitable response to a given design problem. Architects are the generalists, while others on the design team are necessarily more narrowly focused and ensconced within the silos of their respective disciplines. Architects innately seek connections with and inspiration from the greater context of human dwelling and life on this planet.

 
John’s encouragement to share my perspective reinforced my belief that architecture thrives in the connections it fosters—with other fields, with society, and within ourselves as practitioners. It’s these connections that give architecture its richness and relevance, shaping it as a lens through which we interpret our world. Being timid, I’m reluctant to share my explorations of these intersections as a conference speaker. I will, however, continue to do so here on my blog. I look forward as well to future discussions with John about architecture, work in the office I’ve left behind, and life in its many dimensions.

2024 AIA Eugene Construction Craft Awards

The recipients of the 2024 Construction Craft Awards gather for recognition during the October 22, 2024 awards banquet in the Ford Alumni Center ballroom.

Did you know that the Craftsmanship Awards was the first initiative of the American Institute of Architects Southwestern Oregon Chapter following the organization’s chartering back in 1952? The long-running program—now named the Construction Craft Awards and administered by the Eugene Section of AIA Oregon—aims to highlight those who have mastered their craft, whether on specific projects or throughout their careers, by celebrating their exceptional skills and dedication to the work they perform.

 
The 2024 edition of the Construction Craft Awards was the first since 2019, and thus long overdue. I was pleased to see the Lee Barlow Giustina Ballroom at the University of Oregon’s Ford Alumni Center filled last Tuesday evening and the enthusiasm for the presentation of this year’s awards. It bodes well for the Eugene Section’s ongoing efforts to expand its outreach in the lasting wake of the pandemic through collaborative design-focused events and activities.
 
As in previous years, the success of the Construction Craft Awards was reliant upon the nominations of those individuals who AIA Eugene members believed best exemplified the time-honored ideals of craftsmanship. The following are the outstanding recipients of the 2024 awards: 

• Jon Baugus – Superintendent, Chambers Construction(1)
• Steve Kurtz – Exterior finisher (envelope and waterproofing), Xtreme Xteriors, Inc.
• Steve Otto – Finish carpenter, Ordell Construction Co.
• Steve Perkins – Mason, Hap’s Masonry, Inc.
• Rick Robertson – General contractor/owner, Six Degrees Construction Co.
• Ryan Thomas – General contractor, Ryan Thomas Construction, LLC
• The Ponds Team – Essex General Construction, Inc.

This list’s diversity speaks to the breadth of means by which true craftsmanship may be achieved and recognized. The Construction Craft Awards underscore the importance and contributions of key individuals within the diverse teams involved with the execution of the most successful building projects.
 
Our technology-fueled, accelerated existence seemingly leaves little room anymore for the application of measured, considered craft in the execution of buildings. That said, exemplary craftsmanship always shines through. You recognize it immediately. Fundamentally, it reflects the pride and meticulous attention to detail invested by highly skilled tradespersons in the production of the most useful and beautiful objects, buildings, and places. 
 
Kudos to all the 2024 Construction Craft Award recipients. Clearly, this legacy of recognition is one AIA Eugene should endeavor to maintain for years to come.
 
(1)    I wrote a letter of endorsement for Jon’s nomination. Jon served as Chambers Construction’s superintendent for Phase 1 of the Civic Park project.

Have “Starchitects” Gone the Way of the Dinosaur?

I’ve mentioned Duo Dickinson, FAIA, before. As I said previously, Duo is a prolific writer as well as an accomplished architect. He not only writes about architecture but also reflects regularly on his life, his faith, and teaching. He has published several books including The Small House: An Artful Guide to Affordable Residential Design, and A Home Called New England: A Celebration of Hearth and History, cowritten with Steve Culpepper. He has also written for many online and traditional print outlets, including Common Edge, Fine Homebuilding, This Old House Magazine, Arch Daily, Money Magazine, Houzz, and Archinect. Duo is an adjunct professor at the University of Hartford and teaches at the Building Beauty Program in Sorrento, Italy. 

If all that were not enough, Duo additionally hosts a monthly podcast (Home Page Radio with Duo Dickinson) on WPKN, a listener-supported community radio station that broadcasts at 89.5 FM in Bridgeport, CT and streams online at WPKN.org. For the most recent installment, which aired on October 16, Duo spoke with Martin Pedersen, executive director of the Common Edge Collaborative, and John Connell, cofounder of Yestermorrow. The topic at hand was whether the golden era of the hero architects—the “starchitects”—has passed into history. 

Playing devil’s advocate, Duo asserted that a “century of top-down determination is over,” wherein the power of style as sanctified by an elite cabal of tastemakers and epitomized by the starchitects they anointed has been eclipsed by the Internet’s democratization of mass media. The pedestals this cabal erected to promote their chosen prodigies have crumbled. So too have the intellectual underpinnings upon which the starchitects established their legitimacy. Such outsized personalities as Frank Lloyd Wright, Le Corbusier, Mies van der Rohe, Louis Kahn, Eero Saarinen, Philip Johnson, Robert Venturi, Michael Graves, and Frank Gehry (and their respective treatises or design philosophies) do not command the public’s attention as they once did. The last of the true starchitects—those who dominated the architectural scene—may have been Zaha Hadid.(1) In Duo’s mind, imagery now trumps insight in a world increasingly ruled by popularity contests rendered on 4K displays. 

Martin Pedersen largely agreed with Duo, though he cited Neri Oxman as someone who, by virtue of her pioneering work in the field of bio-architecture and material ecology, media savvy, and physical attractiveness meets some of the criteria of a 21st century starchitect.(2) Having said that, Martin doesn’t believe Oxman’s Q-rating—the measurement of her public familiarity and appeal—comes anywhere close to that of her great 20th century forebears. Frank Lloyd Wright is probably the only architect average people know of, and he’s been dead for 65 years. 

Starchitects were once the movie stars of the profession. To the extent they were on the public stage, starchitects embodied the hopes and aspirations of many for the future of our built environment. They personified design. Think of Michael Graves and his designs of consumer products for Target. He became a household name for designing mere tea kettles, toasters, and timepieces, let alone his buildings. 

Martin expressed his belief that, in addition to the ascendency of online outlets, the Great Recession of 2008-2009 further led to the decline of the dominant starchitects by hurting the legacy architectural media. In this, he bolstered Duo’s argument that it was that limited group of pre-Internet media outlets (mostly the prestigious trade “glossies” and architectural critics at the nation’s largest newspapers) that fostered the culture of starchitecture. Martin predicted the future of the architecture media is not necessarily bad but is unresolved, the universal coarsening of our discourse being the most challenging concern. 

John Connell concurred, saying that when he and his cohort left school they were all figuring out how to establish their own individual brand. The big difference now is that the emphasis has necessarily shifted to being part of a team. John pointed to the immense complexity of even modest buildings. There is so much involved in their making—the volume of code requirements alone is often overwhelming—that it is near impossible for one individual to fully master all aspects of their design. Consequently, working as part of a team is the order of the day, a fact architecture schools are increasingly and correctly impressing upon students. For better or worse, starchitecture is thus in decline. 

So, is it time for us to let go of the 20th century concept of the “starchitect?” Is the concept now an anachronism and an antique vestige of how we and the public once perceived the profession? I’m not sure it is. Duo argued that students these days don’t even know what the term “starchitect” means. In his view, the power of style has vanished and does not exist in the way it did back in the day when he and I were in school (Duo received his degree in architecture in 1977, while I did in 1983). Despite Duo’s claim that his students don’t have their stars, I wonder if our perception of the decline of the hero architect is in error and the reality more nuanced. 

People want and need their heroes, and today’s younger generation is no exception. Yes, architecture is an increasingly complex undertaking, and the notion that singular role models hold as much sway as they once did is daft at face value. Then again, I believe inspiring leadership by people of the caliber once personified by the starchitects of the day remains desirable. I have been and continue to be thrilled by the dreams and outstanding achievements of truly visionary individuals. 

We continue to live in an analog world and, as Duo has said, things that are truly artisanal are analog in nature. Swiping between online images doesn’t leave room for the humanity of the creators of the architecture the images depict. Starchitects embodied that humanity. I like to think we will continue to see new generations of such visionaries, and that they have not gone the way of the dinosaurs. 

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If you’re into podcasts and thinking about architecture, I recommend checking out Home Page Radio with Duo Dickinson. Each episode features one or more thoughtful guests who bring varied perspectives to the topics at hand (which are most often associated with the design of homes, but some also touch upon urbanism and architecture in general). I’m not an avid listener of podcasts, but I do enjoy tuning into Home Page Radio. For me, it helps that Duo has a mellifluously perfect radio voice and that he skillfully poses questions that prompt cogent responses. As the days grow shorter and drearier, I look forward to listening to additional episodes of Home Page Radio this fall and winter. 

(1)  Notably, Hadid’s firm paid $16 million to the Zaha Hadid Foundation for the right to continue to use her name, a testament to the power of her brand and persona. 

(2)  Though not mentioned by either Martin or Duo, I think Bjarke Ingels might also qualify as a present-day starchitect.

Gothic Revival Churches of Montreal and Ottawa

Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica, Ottawa, west facade. (all photos by me)

I’ve always admired Gothic Revival architecture, as well as its antecedent, the Gothic style. The rich architectural heritage of Montreal, Quebec City, and Ottawa includes many examples of the style. Of these, three churches are especially notable: Basilique Notre Dame de Montreal and St. Patrick’s Basilica in Montreal, and Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica in Ottawa. I am not a religious person, but I certainly found visiting these instances of Gothic Revival architecture to be emotionally stirring experiences. The sense of awe and reverence each of the trio evokes transcends doctrine, canon, or faith.

The Gothic Revival style, with its soaring heights, intricate stonework, and meticulous attention to detail, offers much to admire. In large part, its appeal lies in its ambition—to lift the human spirit, to rouse a sense of wonder. A characteristic design strategy is to draw the eye upward, toward the heavens. The use of light as a divine presence is another, with the didactic imagery of the colorful stained-glass windows augmenting the church liturgy. Furthermore, Gothic Revival’s hierarchical scaling, wherein patterns of decreasing size nest within self-similar features, define points of geometrical and functional focus. The effect is fractal-like, with symmetries populating scales of decreasing size. The levels of detail and their perceptible mathematical harmonies cohere into emotionally fulfilling compositions. 

Basilique Notre Dame de Montreal, west facade

Basilique Notre Dame de Montreal, nave.

The interior of Basilique Notre Dame de Montreal, bathed in a serene blue and gold palette, is nothing short of breathtaking. The starry ceiling replicates the night sky, offering a glimpse of the infinite contained within the bounds of a finite, human-made space. The ornate details, from the intricate wood carvings to the luminous stained-glass windows, speak to an era when no detail was too small to be perfected. The space prompts a sense of quiet reflection, an appreciation for the dedication and labor it took to create such an inspiring environment. Interestingly, the stained-glass windows do not depict biblical scenes, but rather scenes from the religious history of Montreal.(1) 

St. Patrick's Basilica, east facade.

St. Patrick's Basilica, nave.

St. Patrick’s Basilica is smaller and more intimate. Its Gothic Revival features—pointed arches, flying buttresses, and delicate tracery—may be less grandiose than those of Basilique Notre Dame, but they are no less impressive. The subtle green and gold tones that decorate the interior pay homage to Montreal’s Irish community, giving the church a unique cultural resonance rooted in both the city’s history and the broader legacy of Gothic Revival architecture. I enjoyed the music of the pipe organ during my visit to St. Patrick’s, the notes of which filled the church with sound.(2) 

Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica, nave.

Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica.

Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica offered me yet another take on the Gothic Revival aesthetic. The oldest and largest church in Ottawa, the basilica is an iconic landmark, its two silvery spires piercing the sky and easily identifiable from afar. The brightly painted interior is very impressive, my favorite ecclesiastical space during my travels. Again, I was reminded of the power of architecture to create moments of reflection, even for those of us who do not share the religious beliefs the building represents.(3) 

The vast display of craftsmanship and artistry in each of these churches is breathtaking. I was extremely impressed by the elaborately carved tracery of the altarpieces and reredos in all three, the depth and vibrancy of which is enhanced by gilding and painting. Every detail, from the pointed arches to the smallest carvings, carries meaning. The use of repeating symbols like the cross, fleur-de-lis, and biblical imagery serves to reinforce their religious purpose. This thematic consistency creates a unified experience for worshippers, with every aspect of the architecture contributing to their sacred character. 

Basilique Notre Dame de Montreal, composite column.

Basilique Notre Dame de Montreal, St. Patrick’s Basilica, and Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica resonate strongly with me, despite my lack of religiosity. They stand for something larger than faith itself—they embody human ambition, creativity, and the desire to create lasting beauty. The Gothic Revival style inspires a sense of awe and reverence that rises above dogma. These buildings are more than just places of worship; they are monuments to the human spirit’s ability to create something that stands the test of time. 

In an era where so much of our built environment is disposable or utilitarian, the churches I visited serve as reminders of what we are capable of when we aspire to more than the ordinary. They challenge us to think about what we leave behind—about how our architectural choices can inspire future generations. Whether or not one adheres to the doctrines these churches uphold, there is no denying the power of their presence. They are, in every sense, sacred spaces—not only in the religious sense, but also in the artistic and human sense. And that is why they resonate with me. 

(1)  Basilique Notre Dame de Montreal was designed by James O’Donnell, with primary construction taking place between 1824 and 1829.

(2)  St. Patrick’s Basilica was designed by P.L. Morin and Father Felix Martin. The first mass was celebrated in the church in 1847. 

(3)  Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica was initially designed in a Neo-Classical idiom by Antoine Robillard and Father John Francis Cannon but was subsequently redesigned as a Gothic Revival church by Father Pierre-Adrien Telmon. Initial construction occurred between 1841 and 1843.