Homogenized Glory

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Architect Emeritus

 

Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash.

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

Architecture is Awesome: #37 Standing the Test of Time

Eugene Public Library (photo credit: Eckert & Eckert)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Human Touch in a High-Tech Future

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accountability:

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

Bias and Transparency:

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

Intellectual Property:

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

Skill Development:

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

Existential Threat:

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

Image generated by AI.

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

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

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

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

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