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. 

*    *    *    *    *    * 

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.

Megalopolis

Megalopolis movie poster. 

My wife and I went to see the movie Megalopolis this weekend. Despite what most charitably can be described as “mixed” reviews, I could not miss it. After all, the central character, portrayed by Adam Driver, is a visionary architect. Produced, written, and directed by the legendary Francis Ford Coppola, I found Megalopolis at once ambitiously epic and fantastically confounding. Reportedly many years in the making and not without its controversy, there is plenty about the film to dislike, but also much I found to admire.

In a nutshell (and without giving too much away), Megalopolis is a fantasy/drama set in a futuristic New York City, reimagined as New Rome. The film follows Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver), Chairman of the Design Authority of New Rome, who dreams of rebuilding the city into a utopian society using a magical bio-adaptive material called Megalon (more on that in a bit), for which he received a Nobel Prize as its inventor. Cesar’s ambitions put him at odds with the corrupt Mayor Franklyn Cicero, played by Giancarlo Esposito, who represents the old guard resistant to change. The narrative explores themes of power, ambition, and the clash between old systems and new visions, further complicated by Cesar’s romantic involvement with the mayor’s daughter, Julia, played by Nathalie Emmanuel.

Other members of the impressive cast include Aubrey Plaza, Shia LaBeouf, Jon Voight, Jason Schwartzman, Talia Shire, Grace VanderWaal, Laurence Fishburne, Kathryn Hunter, Dustin Hoffman, and Chloe Fineman.

In the words of one reviewer, Megalopolis is “unabashedly, absurdly theatrical, with boldly unnatural dialogue and performances, [and] ostentatious imagery.”  It is full of broad, expressive gestures—a supernatural fable. The acting is exaggerated, with Aubrey Plaza, Shia LaBeouf, and Jon Voight delivering especially over-the-top performances. Like a Shakespearean play, the film delves into the complexity of human emotions and moral dilemmas, including love, the intoxication of power, the depth of betrayal, and the existential forces guiding human life, whether it’s destiny, fate, or individual choice. The Shakespearean allusions are manifestly literal, to the point where Cesar recites Hamlet’s “To be or not to be” soliloquy in its entirety.

Several philosophical themes provide depth to the storyline. One of the central themes is the conflict between progress and tradition. Cesar embodies the drive for innovation and a utopian future, while Cicero stands for the preservation of the status quo. This dynamic reflects broader societal debates about the costs and benefits of progress. Additionally, the film portrays a generational power struggle, highlighting how older generations, represented by Cicero and other established figures, hold onto power and influence, often at the expense of younger, more progressive voices like Cesar.

While a visionary, the character of Cesar Catilina is not entirely sympathetic. He is undeniably ego-driven and megalomaniacal. His relentless pursuit of his vision blinds him to the ethical implications of his actions. Conversely, Cicero, despite his corruption, appears relatable. His resistance to change and preservation of the status quo reflect a human and understandable fear of the unknown, making his character more nuanced.

Some critics have likened Megalopolis to The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, and I can see the parallels. Both works feature architects as central figures who are uncompromising in their visions and face significant opposition from established powers. Cesar’s character, much like Howard Roark in The Fountainhead, is driven by a singular vision and a refusal to conform, which can come across as both admirable and troubling. However, while The Fountainhead champions individualism and Objectivism, Megalopolis seems to critique the potential dangers of unchecked ambition and the ethical complexities of pursuing utopian ideals.

Cesar’s ability to stop time is a significant plot device (never fully explained) that symbolizes his visionary capabilities and the extent of his ambition. This ability is not just a fantastical element but a metaphor for his desire to control and reshape the world around him. It allows him to manipulate events and create opportunities that would otherwise be impossible, underscoring the film’s exploration of power and ambition. Similarly, Megalon, the magical material Cesar invents, is essential to the plot and serves multiple symbolic purposes. It signifies the technological and creative breakthroughs necessary for Cesar’s utopian dream.

Notably, Neri Oxman (the Israeli American designer and academic known for her experiments with generative design and the study of material properties including both mechanical and biological processes) served as the film’s “architectural and scientific advisor.” The work of Oxman and her collaborators informed the concept of Megalon and the futuristically organic look of Megalopolis as triumphantly realized by Cesar. She even briefly appears in the movie in a cameo role.

Visually, Megalopolis is a bit of a mess. I understand that Coppola’s intent was to eschew realism and ensure its reading as an allegorical fable, with surrealistic imagery used as stand-ins for deeper or layered meanings. That said, I often found the affected dialogue, visual style, and costuming distracting, and much of the CGI annoyingly crude, almost to the point that I question whether that was what Coppola wanted.  

On balance, what did I think of Megalopolis?

I truly did like Coppola’s bold vision and the film’s philosophical undertones. I appreciate work that conveys a thought-provoking message entertainingly. I do know others criticize Megalopolis for being overstuffed and lacking coherence. The film is undeniably polarizing. I know that many found the movie disjointed and hard to understand. And I do think it is overly ambitious in scope; there’s only so much you can pack into 138 minutes of run time. Nevertheless, it is that ambition and Coppola’s unconventional execution that appeals to me.

I want movies that transcend the ordinary and engage deeply with universal human experiences. I want to be challenged to think beyond my immediate reality, offering me fresh perspectives on life, existence, and the human condition. By tackling timeless themes like love, mortality, power, and identity in an innovative and thought-provoking way, such work prompts introspection, inspires awe, and often sparks conversations that resonate across time and cultures. I want movies that stretch the boundaries of creativity and intellect, ones that invite audiences to explore profound questions about themselves and the world. I think Megalopolis does this, or at least deserves credit for trying to.

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If you’re interested in seeing Megalopolis yourself, I recommend doing so soon. It’s been a flop at the box office, reportedly grossing only $7.5 million worldwide as of this weekend (against a production budget of $136 million), so it won’t be long before it is pulled from theaters and relegated only to digital video releases. 

Moshe Safdie: Utopian Ideals vs. Contemporary Practice

The Great Hall of the National Gallery of Canada (my photo).

I thoroughly enjoyed my recent trip to Montreal, Quebec City, and Ottawa, having not previously visited any of these cities. All three are historically rich, presenting ample and fascinating evidence of their beginnings as French or British colonial settlements. While I admired the distinctive urban morphology and many landmark buildings (some dating back as far as the early 17th century) each city can boast, some of the more prominent recent developments attracted me as well. Of these, the projects designed by Israeli Canadian architect and urban planner Moshe Safdie stand out.    

Moshe Safdie’s architectural career presents a fascinating blend of utopian ambition, humanistic principles, and the inevitable compromises that arise from large-scale projects in a globalized world. His work, from the visionary Habitat '67 in Montreal to the iconic Marina Bay Sands Resort in Singapore, reflects both the ideals he established early in his career and the evolving demands of contemporary architecture.

I aimed to visit some of Safdie’s notable works during my trip—or at least that was my goal. I brought my well-worn copy of Safdie’s 1982 book Form & Purpose to (re)read during downtime at the airport and on the plane. I wanted to revisit Safdie’s critique of present-day architecture, particularly his call for a return to human-centered, environmentally responsive design. As he states in the book, “. . . when it comes to design—the design of our environment, cities, buildings, houses, utensils, clothes, furniture, cars, and planes—there is one overriding test: Is it done with a deep sense of commitment to people, a commitment in the broadest sense to man in all his complexities—his desires, hopes, fears, and, above all, his well-being? It is a surprisingly simple test.” This perspective remains deeply relevant in discussions about architecture today. I hoped to apply this test to the Safdie projects I wanted to see.

Habitat 67 (photo by Parcours riverain - Ville de Montréal from Canada, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

One of my targets was Habitat '67, the modular housing project that first brought a precociously young Safdie international acclaim. Unfortunately, my time constraints and the project’s relative inaccessibility precluded seeing it up close. Built for the 1967 World’s Fair (Expo 67), Habitat '67 (an adaptation of his thesis project while an undergraduate at McGill University) emerged during a time of social and political upheaval. Safdie envisioned an inclusive community, reflecting the optimism of the era while addressing the challenges of urban density. However, critics called attention to its shortcomings, pointing out that despite its ambitious intentions, the project is isolated from the urban fabric it aimed to enhance, revealing the complexities of translating visionary concepts into practical, livable solutions. I fully agree on this point.

National Gallery of Canada (my photo)

One of the National Gallery of Canda's top floor rooms (my photo).

While in Ottawa, I visited the National Gallery of Canada, one of Safdie’s most celebrated projects. Completed in 1988, the building resonated with me on many levels. The extensive use of glass, particularly in the Grand Hall, floods the space with natural light and creates a profound sense of openness. Safdie’s design emphasizes transparency, allowing the surrounding landscape to frame the architecture itself and fostering a connection between the building and its environment. This alignment with Safdie’s belief that architecture should serve both human needs and the natural world struck a chord with me.

The National Gallery stands as an exemplary representation of Safdie’s principles. It avoids the pitfalls of excessive symbolism or aesthetic novelty that he critiques in Form & Purpose, instead offering clarity of form, light, and cultural sensitivity. The massive building is “of” Ottawa, fitting in while punctuating the cityscape in a way not unlike the capital city’s other landmarks. The building encourages public engagement, blending truly grand, monumental spaces with more intimate areas that prevent overwhelming visitors. The project is an example where Safdie’s utopian vision seems fully realized, merging functionality, beauty, and environmental responsiveness into a coherent whole.

John G. Diefenbaker Building. I struggled to find a satisfactory perspective from which to take a photograph. This shot, taken from a vantage I did not have access to, is by JustSomePics, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons.

I also visited Safdie’s expansion of the John G. Diefenbaker Building in Ottawa. This project sparked controversy during its design and construction, particularly due to disagreements between Safdie and the City of Ottawa regarding both design and cost. The friction during its development reflects the compromises architects often face when tackling complex public projects. The Diefenbaker Building is a thus a balance between ambition and practicality, and perhaps belies Safdie’s claims of working without arrogance.

The tension between his utopian ideals and the demands of a global, commercialized architectural landscape have marked Safdie’s career. His early work aimed to create architecture that responded to both human and environmental needs. Habitat '67 sought to humanize urban housing by offering privacy, green spaces, and individuality in a dense environment. Yet, as with many utopian projects, economic and logistical challenges complicated efforts to implement such a vision on a broader scale. Habitat’s cost and complexity have made replication difficult, and while it remains an architectural landmark, its inaccessibility and lack of integration with Montreal’s urban fabric are problematic.

Marina Bay Sands, Singapore (photo by Someformofhuman, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

Safdie’s later work increasingly reflects the commercial realities of modern architecture. Projects like Marina Bay Sands in Singapore primarily serve as luxury developments aimed at global tourism. Although these designs (the Jewel Changi Airport, also in Singapore, is another example) remain visually stunning and innovative, they prioritize commercial appeal and iconic status over the social idealism that characterized Safdie’s initial work.

Despite this shift, Safdie’s commitment to human-scale design and environmental responsiveness shines through many of his projects. The National Gallery of Canada thoroughly impressed me. It exemplifies Safdie’s belief that architecture should serve the community and its cultural context while maintaining a connection to nature. It stands as a monument to his early ideals, offering a coherent blend of beauty, functionality, and public engagement.

Habitat '67 challenged conventions of urban living. The National Gallery of Canada demonstrates how humanist and environmentalist principles can apply to architecture on a grand scale. At the same time, the challenges and compromises of more recent projects, like Marina Bay Sands, illustrate the complexities architects face in balancing visionary ideals with the realities of contemporary practice. The work of Moshe Safdie speaks to his enduring belief in the potential of architecture to shape society for the better.