A Diagram's Work

The Vancouver House by Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG), a diagrammatic form rendered at full scale and in real life (my photo).

I participated in a review of student work this past Wednesday at the University of Oregon, one of several summer studio reviews I've sat in on this year. A faculty member and I reviewed a pair of projects—an admittedly small sample—that between them captured two versions of the same issue. One student's presentation had no site analysis or parti diagrams of any kind. The other's did, but they read as an afterthought, drawings that explained the finished design rather than ones that had helped generate it. I've noticed the same in previous reviews; even when an instructor explicitly requires process diagrams, what is pinned up still looks reverse-engineered. The problem lies in the diagrams' provenance—a reality that holds true whether they are the work of students or some of today's most celebrated firms.

Stan Allen, the architect, theorist, and former dean of Princeton's architecture program, drew a useful distinction in a 1998 essay: a diagram's job isn't to depict a building. It's to work out relationships—between program and form, between one space and another—before the building exists to depict. As Allen puts it, diagrams are "architecture's best means to engage the complexity of the real." Much of what gets called a diagram does the opposite: it reverse-engineers a graphic summary after a decision has been made, rather than helping to discover it. A generative diagram precedes the decision. It doesn't explain the building afterward; it's part of the process by which the architect finds the building's basic idea in the first place.

There's a simple test for telling the difference. Point to a particular move in the finished design and ask the student to trace it back to the diagram. Not necessarily to an identical mark, but to something in the diagram that participated in the sequence of decisions that produced it. If they can do that, the diagram probably played a generative role. If they instead begin explaining the diagram in terms of the finished building, the odds are good that the diagram came later. A generative diagram doesn't have to predict the finished design, only to have been capable of changing its direction.

Early design diagram for the VA Roseburg Protective Care Unit. The courtyard organization survived; the entry gesture did not.

The old sketch above passes this test, with qualifications. I drew it during my earliest analyses for the design of the VA Roseburg Protective Care Unit, as I attempted to match site, program, and intent. (I covered this project's design process in my "A Case Study" series of posts.) It's clearly rough: hatched masses standing in for building volumes, a loose unhatched void at the center indicating a courtyard, and an arrow driving in from outside the frame toward one corner.

The courtyard organization held. It became the wrapped, mirrored heart of the finished design, anchored by a huge mimosa tree that I likened to the proverbial Tree of Life. The arrow, on the other hand, didn't hold. It was a stand-in for a real, unresolved question: how to control entry into the secure courtyard. What ultimately emerged wasn't a refinement of the arrow's gesture. It became an entry pavilion, akin to the Propylaea at the Acropolis.

Site plan for the VA Roseburg Protective Care Unit.

That's the important distinction. The diagram didn't predict the building. It put a problem into play while the design was still unsettled enough for the problem to matter. One part of the sketch survived almost intact; another led somewhere I hadn't anticipated. Both were useful because they helped determine what came next.

This tension between diagrammatic exploration and graphic presentation persists in contemporary practice. Bjarke Ingels has described how his firm, BIG, uses diagrams to track the reasoning behind design decisions, a practice he developed in part while working under Rem Koolhaas at OMA. MVRDV's Farmax, published around the same period as Allen's essay, made particularly explicit use of diagrams as instruments of form-finding.  

BIG's series of conceptual diagrams for their Vancouver House project (source: htttps://big.dk/projects/vancouver-house-missing-pictures-7130)  

Yet, there remains a persistent ambiguity in architectural representation: a diagram can document a process, or it can be made to look as though a process existed. Critics have sometimes read BIG's diagrams less as records of discovery than as clever post-rationalization of forms arrived at by other means. The distinction matters because a diagram can be perfectly convincing as a graphic artifact while having had no meaningful role in producing the design.

AI makes that distinction more consequential. Current tools can generate massing alternatives, test code and zoning conditions, manipulate models, and produce images that would once have required considerable effort. Those capabilities may become useful parts of conceptual design. The more immediate problem is simpler: AI can also produce polished, diagram-shaped images on demand. It becomes all too easy to manufacture the appearance of a rigorous design process after the fact.

The issue isn't whether an AI-generated diagram is legitimate because a person didn't draw it by hand. A computer-generated diagram can be every bit as generative as a pencil sketch if it helps identify a consequential relationship, tests an idea, or changes the direction of the design. What matters is what the diagram does in the sequence of thought. A diagram that merely gives graphic form to a conclusion reached some other way is still an afterthought, regardless of who, or what, made it.

Generative diagram by MVRDV for The Modernist, a mixed-use project in Rotterdam (image source: https://www.mvrdv.com/projects/308/the-modernist)  

This is also why a diagram's graphic appearance can be misleading. Arrows, bubbles, hatching, color coding, and other conventions can make a drawing look diagrammatic without telling us anything about its role in the design process. Resembling a diagram isn't the same as having done a diagram's work.

The student who left diagrams out of the presentation wasn't hiding anything, and the one whose diagrams read as afterthoughts wasn't trying to pass off invented process as real. Both, I suspect, simply hadn't yet learned the purpose of diagramming during the early phase of project conceptualization. That's a lesson AI tools may make easier to skip, in a studio or in a firm, because they can cleanly simulate the appearance of analysis without requiring the heavy cognitive lift of the analysis itself.

The afterthought diagram is the more instructive case because it looks like it's doing a job it isn't. Whatever insight it might have delivered—what relationship was worth testing, which constraint should organize the plan—was available only while the design was still unsettled enough to need testing. It can still look flawless on a presentation board, but what it ultimately lacks is a place in the sequence where it still had the power to change the outcome.

2.MO: A Progress Report

Oregon Football's new indoor practice facility, under construction (all photos by me).
 

I’ve followed the construction of the University of Oregon’s new indoor practice facility, “2.MO,” since its groundbreaking in early 2025. With yesterday being the 2026 season opener against Boise State, I decided to walk around the construction fencing beforehand and photograph the project.
 
The curved steel roof structure is complete, and workers have already installed about a quarter of the associated wood decking. The steel ribs and timber framing will remain exposed in the completed building, contributing significantly to its architectural character. The installation of the reflective glass curtain wall on the east elevation is nearly finished. Other parts of the exterior remain at earlier stages of enclosure, but the overall size and form of the massive building have been clear for months now.
 

Site development has also progressed. The major moves—realignment of Leo Harris Parkway and reconfiguration of parking serving the Eugene Science Center—were completed last winter. Given that the current construction perimeter essentially corresponds with the eventual boundaries of the practice complex, pedestrian movement around the site should have worked well on game day.

 

As of this writing, University of Oregon Athletics has not announced an official name for the latest addition to Oregon Football’s Hatfield-Dowlin Complex. Nor has it revealed the project's cost, as it generally has not for its other major donor-funded developments.
 
If I am lucky enough to tour the facility following its completion in 2027, I’ll record that visit as well.

AIA Eugene Section Meeting: Friendly Hall and the Northwest Center for Architecture

Friendly Hall Renovation, June 18, 2026 (my photo).

Last Wednesday's meeting of the American Institute of Architects - Eugene Section offered a clear look at two noteworthy efforts in our region: the ongoing renovation of the University of Oregon’s Friendly Hall and the work of the Northwest Center for Architecture. The evening began with a construction site tour and concluded with a presentation in Lawrence Hall 115, each providing a concise update on projects that continue to reshape both the campus and the regional architectural record.

Restoring Friendly Hall 

Friendly Hall, designed by Whidden & Lewis in 1893 with additions in 1909 and 1914, stands as the University of Oregon’s third oldest building and the future home of the Schnitzer School of Global Studies and Languages. The current work delivers a comprehensive deferred‑maintenance and modernization effort through the CM/GC method with Bremik Construction. As Stone Rose, Bremik’s Senior Superintendent, noted, the Guaranteed Maximum Price sits at approximately $72 million, a figure that captures both the building’s age and the enormous scope of the rehabilitation. According to the university, the total project cost is presently $82.97 million.

The team is tackling a substantial range of improvements. Bremik has excavated portions of the basement to create new programmable space and plans to relocate rooftop mechanical equipment underground to restore the building’s historic profile. They are adding reinforced shotcrete at the exterior walls and installing a new roof diaphragm to improve seismic performance and support the conversion of outdated 1960s dormers into usable office space. They are also addressing long‑standing accessibility, life‑safety, and security issues in a coordinated way.

During early design, the team studied whether a full basement excavation could provide the additional area the program required. They ultimately chose a northeast expansion instead, which offered more efficient and flexible floor plates at a lower cost. Inside, they are reorganizing spaces around openness and adaptability, with new student hubs intended to support cross‑cultural engagement.

As often happens with buildings of this age, the team has encountered numerous unforeseen conditions. They spoke plainly about the surprises uncovered during demolition and excavation — the kind of challenges that make historic rehabilitation both demanding and instructive.

My thanks to the project participants who shared their perspectives during the tour:

• Elisa Rocha (Associate Principal, TVA Architects)
• Stone Rose (Senior Superintendent, Bremik Construction)
• Martina Oxoby (Senior Owner’s Representative, University of Oregon)
• Mike Astrella (Associate, Catena Consulting Engineers)
• Caitlin Pierce Cranley (Associate, Architectural Resources Group)
• Charlie White (Project Delivery Lead, Systems West Engineers)

The project team expects to complete the Friendly Hall renovation in Fall 2027, a timeline that acknowledges the complexity of the work and the care required to rehabilitate a building of this vintage.

South Park Building rendering, Herbert & Keller Architects, 1977 (Image courtesy of Northwest Center for Architecture Archive. http://www.nwc4a.org)

The Northwest Center for Architecture

After the site tour, we moved to Lawrence Hall 115 for a presentation by Abraham Kelso, Board President of the Northwest Center for Architecture (NWC4A). Based in Eugene, the organization works to preserve and interpret the architectural legacy of the Pacific Northwest, from Oregon to British Columbia, at a moment when numerous original archives face the risk of disappearing.

Abe described the urgency clearly. Many influential 20th‑century architects have passed, and their firms have closed, leaving drawings and documents scattered in garages and storage units. Without intervention, the region could lose the record of a distinctly Northwest architectural ethos — one that is uniquely contextual, climate responsive, and civic minded.

The Northwest Center for Architecture continues to process collections from firms and individuals. They have already or are currently digitally preserving and curating the archives of Unthank Seder Poticha Architects, Daniel Herbert, John and Jonathan Stafford, Equinox Design (John Reynolds & G.Z. Brown), and others. The organization has produced exhibitions and publications, including Interaction! Unthank Seder Poticha Architects, and plans to onboard its first summer intern and volunteer cohort. Long‑term plans include acquiring the Stafford Office/Residence as a permanent home, for which the organization will soon undertake a capital fundraising campaign.

Abe’s presentation underscored how much regional architectural history remains uncatalogued and how valuable a dedicated institution will be in preserving and interpreting it. Please consider supporting the Northwest Center for Architecture and its efforts by making a tax‑deductible donation. The Center is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization: EIN 99‑42889508.

* * * * *

The evening reminded me of the value of staying connected to the local architectural community. I appreciated the chance to catch up with former colleagues and collaborators, many of whom I had not seen in quite a while. The combination of substantive project updates and familiar professional faces gave me a good prompt to attend future meetings more regularly.

2.MO

One of the latest renderings of "2.MO," the University of Oregon's future second indoor practice facility (all images here by the Oregon Athletic Department).

Drive past Autzen Stadium along Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard and you’ll find the flurry of nearby construction activity hard to miss. The University of Oregon’s new indoor football practice facility—dubbed “2.MO”—will soon be rising immediately to the west of the Hatfield-Dowlin Complex (HDC).(1) I first wrote about the project when the university announced its plans in 2021. Back then, I expressed ambivalence: admiration for the design and excitement as a fan, tempered by concern about priorities and sustainability. That ambivalence remains. 

As depicted in the latest project renderings, the current design of 2.MO is consistent with the initial 2021 concept. It will be massive, timber-clad, and unmistakably Oregon. Olson Kundig leads the design team, Hoffman Construction is building it, and Van Horne Brands—known for immersive sports branding—is shaping the facility’s identity. Based on available information (including from the GoDucks YouTube channel), the building will be much more than just another cavernous shed. It will be a narrative space, designed to communicate Oregon’s ethos through form, material, and immersive branding. 

The new facility will span 170,000 square feet, comprised of the 130,000-square-foot indoor practice field and a 40,000-square-foot connector to the adjacent HDC, with another 30,000 square feet of HDC renovations. It will be the largest indoor practice facility in the nation. The university touts green design features, such as energy-efficient systems, but the sheer scale of the project raises questions about resource allocation. The university hasn’t confirmed the total cost, but some estimates suggest the figure could exceed $100 million, funded entirely through private philanthropy. If the current timeline holds, 2.MO will be ready for use in 2027. 

A realignment of Leo Harris Parkway to accommodate reconfigured outdoor practice fields is already complete. Additionally, the broader project includes improved ADA access in Alton Baker Park, expanded parking, and enhancements to fish habitat and water quality in the nearby waterway. These changes reflect a civic dimension to the development, even if the primary driver is athletic performance. 

Now in its second season in the Big Ten, Oregon Football’s national profile continues to grow. NIL, conference realignment, and donor-funded megaprojects have reshaped the sport. 2.MO will serve as a recruiting tool (and it has been since its first unveiling), a training hub, and a statement of intent by Oregon Athletics and its philanthropic backers. But it also reveals something deeper about us and our priorities. 

I’ve described the college athletics arms race as unsustainable. That still holds true. But repeating the phrase risks dulling its edge. What strikes me now is not just the scale of investment, but the normalization of it. Oregon’s boosters (led by Phil Knight) aren’t just funding facilities; they are shaping the university’s identity. The question isn’t whether Oregon leads the arms race. It’s whether the race itself has become the institution’s defining narrative. 

That narrative is complicated. It reflects our willingness to invest in spectacle, to equate prestige with performance, and to prioritize competitive advantage. It also reflects a belief—shared by many in this community—that Oregon football is worth it. That it brings people together, energizes the city, and helps define Eugene. 

I for one, will keep showing up on Saturdays. I’ll keep thinking about what it all means. Come Oregon’s first game of the 2025 season versus Montana State, I’ll walk past the ongoing construction site, not to wonder what it will look like, but to consider what it says about us. If this facility is a mirror, it reflects ambition, spectacle, and a belief in sport’s power to shape identity. It also reflects our comfort with scale—how easily we accept the extraordinary as ordinary. Whether that’s cause for celebration or concern depends on where you stand. I’m still deciding.

(1) "2.MO" is a reference to Oregon's original indoor practice facility, the Moshofsky Center, which is thus "1.MO." I anticipate the new building will receive a more formal name before it opens.

Looking Back: Architecture Career Advice

A design studio review at the University of Oregon (my photo)

This post is another outcome of my ongoing efforts to sort through and purge the mountains of old paperwork I’ve retained over the years—much of it for reasons I struggle to remember or justify now that I’m retired. I recently discovered a box containing materials from my time as an adjunct instructor at the University of Oregon’s Department of Architecture, where I helped teach the Context of the Professions class during the 2012 and 2013 academic years. Among the contents was a set of questions submitted by students as part of a class assignment. Their questions—posed to me and my fellow instructors—asked for our opinions about entry into the profession and reflections on our early experiences as fledgling employees.
 
Rather than responding in writing, we answered these questions in a freewheeling discussion before the assembled class. While I don’t have an exact record of what we said, the questions themselves remain a treasure. Below is a sampling, along with answers I composed today. I’m not sure how much my responses differ from those I gave in 2012 and 2013, but I like to think they carry a bit more perspective, reflecting an additional decade-plus of experience and insight.
 
1. If employers are concerned with hiring individuals with experience, then what makes them likely to hire a recent graduate at all?
Employers look for potential, not just experience. Recent graduates bring fresh perspectives, technical skills (especially in software), and a willingness to learn. Firms value enthusiasm, adaptability, and the ability to work collaboratively.
 
2. How can I (a presumed graduate) make myself a more desirable applicant than someone with real-world experience?
Demonstrate robust design and technical skills, proficiency in industry-standard software (Revit, Rhino, Grasshopper, Adobe Creative Suite, Bluebeam Revu, etc.), and critical thinking ability. A well-curated portfolio, professional communication, and relevant internship experience can help compensate for a lack of full-time experience.
 
3. If you were hiring a summer intern, what qualities would you look for first?
Initiative, curiosity, and a strong work ethic. A good intern asks questions, learns quickly, and contributes meaningfully. Proficiency in digital tools and a willingness to take on varied tasks are also key.
 
4. What steps should we take while still in school to help us find a job later?
Seek internships and part-time positions in architecture firms. Build relationships with professors and professionals. Develop a strong portfolio showcasing a range of skills. Learn both design and technical software. Attend networking events and join professional organizations like AIA, CSI, or NCARB.
 
5. In interviews, is it better to admit weaknesses and areas for improvement, or just focus on strengths?
A balance is best. Confidence in strengths is key, but firms also value self-awareness and a willingness to improve.
 
6. How much of your career success do you attribute to talent and effort, versus being in the right place at the right time?
Success is a mix of skill, hard work, and luck. Talent and perseverance set the foundation, but networking and timing often influence career trajectory. Many professionals recommend making your own luck by being proactive and engaged in the industry.
 
7. Would your friends and family say you’ve effectively balanced work and social life?
Many architects struggle with work-life balance, especially early in their careers. Setting boundaries and working for firms that value employee well-being can help, but long hours are often a reality in the field.
 
8. How influential is the portfolio in the application process? Can strong management and organizational skills balance out middle-of-the-road design skills?
The portfolio is crucial, but firms also consider communication, teamwork, and organizational skills. Those who are strong in project management, client relations, and technical execution can be just as valuable as pure design talents.
 
9. Is it better to take an undesirable position at a firm you like or a desirable position at a firm you don’t like?
It's generally better to work at a firm that aligns with your values, even if the role isn’t ideal. Culture, mentorship, and opportunities for growth matter more in the long run than immediate job duties.
 
10. Do you prefer working in a big firm or a small one, and why?
Preferences vary. Big firms offer large projects, specialization, resources, and stability. Small firms provide diverse experience, close mentorship, and more direct involvement in design decisions. I spent my career in small-to-medium-sized firms (ranging from 9 to 18 employees), where I enjoyed a blend of benefits associated with both large and small offices.
 
11. How does the high-pressure architecture school studio culture compare to firm work?
Working in an architecture firm is demanding but typically more structured. Deadlines are real, but projects unfold over months or years, allowing for deeper refinement. The all-nighter culture is less common, though long hours can persist depending on firm culture and project deadlines.
 
12. What do you most regret about your career? What would you have done differently?
I have no regrets. My career was fulfilling and met my expectations in every way. That said, I know much of my good fortune was due to luck and being in the right place at the right time. Other architects might wish they had networked earlier, gained better business knowledge, pursued licensure sooner, or maintained a better work-life balance.
 
13. How does one establish themselves in a firm and move into leadership?
Leadership is built through reliability, problem-solving, and initiative. Key steps include becoming indispensable on projects, building client and team relationships, learning about firm operations, and expressing interest in leadership roles.
 
14. Is it better to start my career in a small city or a large one?
There are trade-offs to both. Large cities offer exposure to high-profile projects, diverse firms, and more structured career paths, but they come with higher costs and competition. Smaller cities often provide more hands-on experience, greater project responsibility, and a lower cost of living, but fewer large-scale opportunities. Many architects start in one and transition to the other. I worked in large cities (Vancouver and Los Angeles) but spent most of my career in Eugene, which, despite being a smaller market, offered me many meaningful opportunities.
 
15. How important is getting licensed early in my career?
While gaining experience is essential, licensure opens more career opportunities, including leadership roles, higher salaries, and the ability to stamp drawings. Many professionals recommend working toward licensure as soon as possible while balancing practical experience. That was certainly my goal. I first became licensed in 1985, two years following my graduation from the University of Oregon in 1983.

*    *    *    *    *    *

Looking back at these questions, I realize how much of what I’ve learned wasn’t just about architecture itself, but about navigating a career—understanding what really matters, what lasts, and what fades with time. There’s no single path to success in this profession, but curiosity, adaptability, and persistence go a long way. If emerging professionals stay engaged, keep learning, and surround themselves with people who challenge and support them, the rest tends to fall into place. Of course, this is easy for me to say from where I stand today. The architectural profession is changing rapidly, and my advice may soon feel outdated, but the fundamentals of curiosity, adaptability, and persistence will always matter.

Urban Identity and Collective Memory

 

Piazza San Marco, Venice (photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash)

 
During a recent, spirited round of Swedish death cleaning here in my home, I came across a brief essay I wrote in 1983 during my final year at the University of Oregon. The paper, titled Urban Identity and Collective Memory, was an assignment for Professor Rosaria Hodgdon’s class ARCH 441G – Critical Issues in the Urban Environment. Reflecting on it now, I recognize my naïve idealism and pedantic tone. My generalization about American attitudes towards urbanism was cartoonish. That said, I believe the core theme remains relevant, particularly its exploration of the relationship between the individual and the collective within our cities.
 
Influenced by cultural shifts, growing environmental awareness, and the political ideologies of the early 1980s, I grappled with the tension between individualism and collectivism. Today, while there is a strong emphasis on community and sustainability, I feel a fundamental belief in the power of architecture to shape social interactions and community life is increasingly absent from architectural education, overwhelmed by an exponentially broadening range of other concerns.
 
My perspective has evolved over the past four-plus decades, but I remain convinced of the importance of individuals coming together with a shared understanding of what constitutes a healthy urban environment. Maybe the 20-something me wasn’t so naïve after all.
 
Urban Identity and Collective Memory
The meaning of the term “urban” often eludes those of us who were indoctrinated with anti-urban, agrarian, and Jeffersonian sensibilities, and raised in that antithesis of the city—the homogenous bedroom suburb. Most Americans do not understand what it is to belong to the polis, to contribute to and share the rewards of collective agreement, much less understand the place and function of architecture within a complex city structure. The frontier mentality persists, encouraging everyone to stake their own claim on the land. It is the individual that is stressed and not the collective. Many consider “urban” and “urbanity” as abstract concepts, the domain of politicians, sociologists, and planners, rather than architects.
 
There is a risk in so simplistic a characterization of American attitudes; nevertheless, it serves the point I am making. This is that we too often hesitate to share ourselves, to be active participants in the life of the collective, and yet it is public agreement and celebration of that which is shared that ensures a vital city. Rob Krier suggests that we might almost infer in the city the existence of a kind of social ritual which provides a perfect match between the individual and the collective. To Krier, Aldo Rossi, and many others, being “urban” means being both—to be part of a community.
 
Rossi would say that all of us belong and contribute to the collective memory of the city, and that it is in the architecture of the city that we find this memory. Architecture is the stage for, as well as a participant in, the drama of human events. The city is one large piece of architecture. For Krier, “urban space” is the operative term. Urban space is of the city, and it is either internal/private or external/public. Jose Ortega y Gasset spoke of the city as a product of the street and square, the basic elements of urban space. To him the polis started as an empty space, the architecture of the city being the means of fixing that empty space and limiting its outlines. A public square, thanks to the fabric that defines it, sets itself in opposition to the countryside. The fabric is the architectural fact of urban space, and it is the interplay between architectural fact and urban effect that is of interest to Vincent Scully, among others.
 
Architecturally, individual buildings have a responsibility to the collective urban scene. At their best, they display an enthusiasm for the public life. The Piazza San Marco is a good example of a public urban space. Kevin Lynch calls the piazza a “node,” a strategic focus for the city. It sets itself in sharp contrast to the general character of Venice and to the narrow, twisted spaces of its immediate approaches. The piazza is highly structured architecturally, but as Robert Venturi noted, the consistent spatial order is not without contradictions in scale and texture.
 
J.N.L. Durand wrote “Just as the walls, the columns, etc. are the elements which compose buildings, so buildings are the elements which compose cities.” As a corollary to this, we can say that while it is the particular that characterizes the individual, it is individuals that form the collective. The Venetians have an urban sense, and the Piazza San Marco is evidence: It is full of everyday life, people, activities, and history. The piazza is the city’s living room. If we could muster a fraction of the enthusiasm for the city that the Venetians have for theirs, both we and our architecture would be more surely urban.
 
RN/1983

Design :: Resilience - The 2024 University of Oregon Reynolds Symposium

October 18-19, 2024 

Oregon State Treasury Building (photo by Tom Hahn).

The 2024 Reynolds Symposium will bring together a diverse group of designers, academics, researchers, public servants, and others to explore resilience in the face of shifting ecologies, communities, and climate disruptions. 

This event will feature keynote speakers, panel discussions, and an interactive design activity focused on resilience. Attendees will also have opportunities to network with presenters and peers during extended breaks. A highlight of the symposium includes an optional tour of the Oregon State Treasury’s new U.S. Resiliency Council (USRC) Platinum-rated headquarters in Salem. 

The discussions will address the immediate challenges posed by storms, wildfires, and earthquakes, alongside the broader, long-term impacts of climate change on water, food systems, and migration. The symposium will delve into how professionals in architecture, landscape, and interior design can shape environments that not only withstand these challenges but also foster thriving communities. 

Key topics include real-world examples and strategies for resilient design at various scales, from neighborhood resource hubs that strengthen social ties to urban infrastructure that maintains critical services. The symposium will also explore the relationship between resilience and sustainability, examining whether these two concepts are complementary or distinct. 

Dynamic and interactive sessions will allow participants to engage deeply with these ideas through exhibitions, workshops, and panel discussions led by experts in the field. Attendees can earn up to 8 AIA LU/HSW continuing education credits. 

Attend the symposium October 18-19, 2024 and leave ready to help shape the future of resilient design. 

Organizing Committee 

• Tom Hahn, UO Career Instructor, Architecture 
• John Reynolds, UO Professor Emeritus, Architecture 
• Alison Kwok, UO Professor, Architecture 
• Nicholas Rajkovich, Associate Professor, University at Buffalo 
• Maria Coronado Cabrera, UO PhD Candidate, Architecture 
• Lindsay Ahmed, BARCH & Sophia Blatnik, MARCH, UO student coordinators 

Symposium Sponsors

• UO Architecture Reynolds Endowment 
• UO Architecture Davis Family Fund 
• AIA Oregon 

Registration Information

Early-bird registration closes Monday, September 16. The registration includes all sessions, keynotes, panel discussions, the building tour, and meals. Up to 8 AIA LU/HSW credits are available. There will be no live streaming of the event. 

REGISTER NOW through Eventbrite: click Link: HERE

Courting Aesthetics

Detail view of the new court design's "missing man" formation of flying ducks (photo from GoDucks.com)

As both a devoted fan of the Oregon Ducks and an architect, I eagerly follow developments related to the university’s athletics facilities. For better or worse, the Ducks have become the poster child for lavish spending and trend-setting accommodations for its varsity sports. The latest such improvement is the revamping of Matthew Knight Arena’s Kilkenny Court playing surface, unveiled by the university last week.(1)

The new design has sparked enthusiastic reactions from the Ducks’ fan base, prompting me to ponder whether something as physically shallow as a painted court surface truly contributes to the aesthetic perception of an architectural space, specifically the interior of a basketball arena.

The saying "beauty is only skin deep" suggests that we shouldn’t assign much importance to outward appearances as they merely mask inner qualities. Architects have long grappled with this notion and its impact on how people perceive a building’s design. This struggle moved to the forefront during the ascendency of Modernism during the 20th century as designers eschewed applied ornament in favor of an analytical and functional approach to the creation of architecture. The belief was ornamentation belonged to the past and that a new aesthetic language based on simplicity and purity of form is morally superior. This was the dominant canon for many years. While Modernism has since made room for aesthetic pluralism, most architects will still contend their focus is not upon surface appearances. So, what should we make of the average person’s natural and visceral response to first impressions? To what extent should we credit aspects of a design’s success to elements that are at most skin-deep? In the case of the Ducks’ new court design, the simple answer is “a lot.” 

The new floor design (photo from GoDucks.com)

Spearheaded by Van Horne Brands, the new Kilkenny Court blends innovation with tradition. The visually striking design evokes a sense of place and history, while reimagining the “Deep in The Woods” theme of Knight Arena’s original court design. The centerpiece is a prominent “O” logo, encircled by the tree imagery, which is more transparent (and green!) than the court’s much-derided first iteration. As before, the use of tree graphics reinforces connections to the local landscape, as well as referencing Oregon’s 1939 NCAA championship men’s basketball squad (“The Tall Firs”). The new design also honors the arena's namesake, Matthew Knight (who tragically died at the age of 34 in a scuba diving accident), with subtle yet meaningful elements like the "missing man" formation of flying ducks near each baseline. This tribute adds emotional depth to the court and enriches the overall experience of attending a game by conveying a story, values, and emotions. Spectators entering the arena are immersed in a visual narrative that connects them to the local landscape and Oregon’s heritage, creating a unique and memorable experience.

Having attended many games at Matthew Knight Arena since its opening in 2011, I know firsthand how the court’s design can enhance or detract from the overall atmosphere. A problem with the original scheme (which I did not like) was that its brown and ochre graphics suggested wildfire, drought or insect-ravaged woods rather than a thriving stand of evergreens. Another problem was how overly intricate and murky the tree imagery was, detracting from the clarity and simplicity some observers prefer in sports arenas. The fact the old court rendered the game lines illegible did not help. The best that could be said about the old court was that it was a conversation starter.

MKA's original floor design (my photo).

From what I’ve seen online, the shift to the more vibrant aesthetic for the floor while carrying over elements from the previous design is being well-received by most Oregon fans. I suspect this is due to both the extensive use of an Apple Green we readily associate with Oregon’s school colors as well as its deceiving simplicity. There’s a lot going on with the new floor, but this is achieved by means that are not visually distracting or headache-inducing. I like that the visual elements of the redesigned court not only captivate the eye but also engage the emotions, fostering a sense of unity and pride among players and fans alike. The visual appeal of the new court transforms the arena into a microcosm of Oregon's natural beauty and cultural identity.

One of architecture’s fundamental obligations is to delight those who experience it. The philosophy of aesthetics focuses on how beauty is perceived and appreciated through all our senses. While I have yet to see it in person, I believe the redesigned Kilkenny Court at Matthew Knight Arena does illustrate a meaningful connection between the spectators, the players, and the place they call home. Notwithstanding its superficiality, the painted surface of a basketball court contributes to the immersive experience and aesthetic perception of the arena’s architecture. As architects strive to prove their relevance to clients, it is important to highlight the significance of creating spaces that are pleasing to the senses in all respects. The new court design, albeit skin-deep, does this through its melding of imagery, tradition, and reverence, enhancing the identity and soul of the building.

(1)    Though not announced in the press release, rumor has it that volleyball will receive its own distinct floor design. The fresh looks herald Oregon’s debut as a new member of the Big Ten Conference.

UO Huestis Hall Tour

 

The March meeting of the Construction Specifications Institute-Willamette Valley Chapter featured a fascinating tour of the $90 million renovation project in progress at Huestis Hall on the campus of the University of Oregon. While the extensive renovation will result in a comprehensive overhaul of all the building’s major systems—including exterior envelope improvements, removal of barriers to accessibility, M/E/P upgrades, replacement of its elevators, and more—the primary focus of the presentation by Nick Pritchard of Lease Crutcher Lewis (the project’s Construction Manager/General Contractor) was the application of fiber-reinforced polymer (FRP) to address Huestis Hall’s structural deficiencies.
 
Constructed during the early 1970s, Huestis Hall’s brutalist aesthetic imparts a strong, yet simple, presence that is warmed with its brick veneer accents and large expanses of glazing. As was the case with most buildings built in Oregon before 1984, the original design of its lateral force resisting system lacked an awareness of the local seismicity exposure’s magnitude. Without necessary improvements, the 3-story concrete structure would sustain significant damage during a major earthquake. Wishing to secure its long-term future, the University prioritized upgrading Huestis Hall’s ability to resist seismic forces.(1)  
 
Before describing the extensive use of FRP, Nick summarized the overall project scope:

• Targeting of LEED Gold (with aspirations for Platinum)
• Comprehensive demolition of the building interiors down to the structure at the levels above-grade
• Addition of a new west elevator tower
• Thickening and infilling of the existing concrete cores as necessary to supplement the FRP reinforcing
• Tying of the existing concrete cores to the floor diaphragms by means of collector rods
• Construction of a new mechanical penthouse
• Installation of new M/E/P systems
• Restoration of the existing brick
• Window replacement
• Installation of new architectural finishes and laboratory casework
• Site improvements

Once completed sometime during 2024, the University’s Institute of Neuroscience (IoN) home in Huestis Hall will be fully refurbished, seismically safe, and state-of-the-art. It will provide IoN researchers with a supportive work environment that promotes collaboration and enhances their ability to tackle fundamental questions in neuroscience.

 

Installed FRP strips within the existing elevator shaft.

The use of FRP products for seismic reinforcing is common today.(2) FRP is a composite material that typically consists of strong fibers embedded in a resin matrix. The fibers provide strength and stiffness to the composite and generally carry most of the applied loads. The most common fiber types are glass, carbon, or synthetics. They are nonconductive, noncorrosive, and lightweight. Such reinforcement is particularly useful for seismic upgrades because it is relatively easy to install, an important consideration when it comes to retrofitting existing concrete structures that were not originally designed to withstand earthquakes. FRP is applied in the form of strips or sheets, which are bonded to the surface of the concrete using epoxy or other adhesive materials. The FRP resists tensile forces by enhancing the flexural and shear strength of the structure.
 
Overall, FRP materials provide an effective and practical solution for seismic retrofitting and strengthening of buildings. They can significantly enhance the performance of structures during earthquakes, reducing damage and increasing safety.
 
Nick described the process associated with the design, delivery, and installation of the FRP system for Huestis Hall. Though Catena Consulting Engineers furnished the initial design analysis of the existing structure and prepared the basis-of-design drawings. the detailed engineering of the FRP system was a delegated design responsibility, assigned to a specialized subcontractor possessing the requisite expertise. Simpson Strong-Tie is that subcontractor, a vertically integrated, full-solution partner for the FRP composite strengthening systems. Simpson and its subsidiary companies (Structural Technologies and Pullman Services) are providing turnkey, end-to-end services for Huestis Hall, from engineering through installation.

 

View looking up to the underside of the one of the floor structures adjacent to a concrete core to which it will be structurally tied. Collector rods will bridge the original seismic joint separating the components and tie them together once the infilling concrete between the original concrete joists is poured.

As Nick explained, Huestis Hall has presented more than its share of surprises and challenges. The building proved difficult to fully assess and document as record documents were incomplete or unreliable. Every existing penetration through structurally important walls needed to be documented. In one instance, a huge opening accommodating the passage of ductwork and piping existed where it wasn’t expected, triggering an expensive reconfiguration of the HVAC and fire protection systems. The existing elevator had to be removed in its entirety to facilitate the application of the FRP within the concrete shaft, a process that additionally necessitated the cutting of larger openings to facilitate the removal and eventual reinstallation of the elevator. The existing egress stairways barely exceeded the code-minimum width requirements, so Lease Crutcher Lewis is carefully monitoring the addition of the FRP strips to ensure the stairs remain code-compliant. On top of all this, the basement of Huestis Hall is home to a highly vibration and noise-sensitive Zebrafish facility, which is remaining in place and operation throughout the project’s duration.
 
The lessons learned that are applicable to any project involving the use of FRP include the following:

• Plan sequencing of the work very early on.
• Don’t rely entirely upon the design team’s ability to fully capture the scope of demolition necessary to provide access to the concrete surfaces involving FRP reinforcement.
• Carefully inspect all concrete surfaces scheduled to receive FRP; perform investigative demolition as necessary.
• Fully document all existing penetrations.
• Thoroughly analyze the access and control requirements associated with installing FRP in areas of the building occupied during the work.
• Consider how the build-up of materials (FRP, concealing finishes) may encroach upon required egress paths or accessible paths of travel.
• Avoid welding near or on top of the FRP.
• Anticipate temperatures unfavorable to the application of FRP (minimum required temperature is 45 degrees F).

Though costly, the renovation of Huestis Hall—as opposed to its complete demolition and replacement—was the right course of action taken by the University of Oregon. Renovating the building is the eco-friendly option, with fewer environmental impacts than new construction. Viewed through the sustainability lens, the carbon debt incurred will be smaller over Huestis Hall’s remaining (and considerably extended) lifespan.
 
Big thanks to Nick Pritchard for leading such an informative and transparent tour. And kudos too to Kayla Bundy (current WVC/CSI president) and Sydney Mills (president-elect) for arranging yet another successful chapter meeting. I’m looking forward to more!
 
(1)  A team led by my firm, Robertson/Sherwood/Architects, prepared a 2017 renovation feasibility study that provided the basis for the current renovation project. Alas, the University did not select us to subsequently execute the project, instead choosing TVA Architects.
 
(2) I have direct experience with the use of FRP on another seismic upgrade project. In many ways, the Olive Plaza Seismic Upgrade & Exterior Improvements project was similar to the Huestis Hall project. Both jobs involve the use of FRP, but also share in common the challenging logistics associated with the extensive renovation of an existing building.