The Minimal Dwelling

Friday evening marked the end of the 3rd rotation for first year architecture kids... I never thought it would end the way it did.

I gave one of my most important presentations to date looking something akin to Oscar from Sesame Street. I had been up for more than 24 hours straight, with unbrushed hair and teeth. I wasn't wearing a smudge of makeup, and my contacts felt like rocks in my eyes. I'm sure I smelled like the work I had been doing in the wood shop, and I still had sawdust on my jeans. Despite this, I was completely calm... Probably because I was too exhausted to be nervous.

Meet James and Marcus (right): the professors I was presenting to.

If you think they look like tough critics, you are right.

The presentation I was giving was an unusual one. Each student had been assigned to design and then build a 3'x3'x6' room for a client in about 5 weeks. It sounded fairly simple at first, until we got the materials list. We were permitted to build these rooms using only zip ties, string, tape, cardboard, plywood, plastic bags, recycled paper, conduit, and hardware.

Our professor, Marcus, showed us some images that were meant to be inspiring, but I found them rather intimidating... If he was expecting something like this, what would he think of anything I could build alone in a few weeks?

(All zip ties)

(Only packaging tape)

Granted, these projects require weeks of intense work from large groups of people, but still, they are quite impressive.

Our rooms rooms had to have two functions: a private function and a public function, both of the client's choice. Some of the clients had odd requests, like a sitting room that transforms into a wading pool, or a swinging room with walls that could open.

Thankfully, my client was not terribly high-maintenance. He requested a drafting room with walls that would open to display his drawings. Sounds simple, right? Well, it might have been for people who are accustomed to building things.
   I am not.
I have always been wary of shiny, sharp things that spin fast, and that could potentially rip off digits - or even limbs. (Imagine Katy Perry's "California Gurls" music video - except cold and dark, where all the giant candy trees are bloodied saw blades, and all the Candyland characters have become zombie-like shop supervisors or maimed students.)

At any rate, I was less than thrilled about the assignment, and I had a lot of trouble coming up with an interesting design concept. My first couple of sketches looked like phone booth/casket hybrids... Not exactly the airy, clean type of space my client had in mind.

After several hours of sketching and lots of terrible ideas, I doodled something that interested me: a room with walls that peeled back like leaves or an orange peel. I imagined something of an "infinity room" with walls that move independently of each other, to allow the client to create whatever kind of room he wanted. I almost threw the idea away because it seemed an impossible feat, especially given the materials list, but my professor seemed to take a shine to it. So I tried it.

My first half-scale model was a complete and utter disaster. Only now do I wish I had a photo of it... It would give you a laugh. The panels which were meant to swivel and open or close laid limply on the floor like a dead plant. The string system which I had devised to move the panels was a tangled mess. I put on a brave face for the model critique, but I was humiliated. My classmates tried to boost my confidence by applauding my concept, and saying things like, "If it worked, it will be really cool."

Needless to say, my professor made me do the model again. So I did. Again, the second model also failed. I retreated to the bathroom to cry and do some more drawings, then started on another model.

Finally, weeks after some people were approved to start doing their final piece, I was given the green light. Down to Lowe's I went, and I returned with 3 sheets of lauan, 2 of plywood, 100' of string, and several types of hardware. (It sounds easy here, but trying to fit 5 sheets of 4'x8' plywood into a bus, then a taxi was somewhat of an ordeal.)

I'll spare you the details of construction, but I will say that inventing a way to make a cantilevered ceiling on which a person can yank (without breakage) is tricky.

I found a million ways how to make a room incorrectly, but in the end, I got it to stand up. PLUS the panels work! I'm still not really sure how it happened, to be honest.

Here are a few photos of my room on the site.

(Click to enlarge)

Here is a little stop-motion animation film that I put together quickly to document the movement of my room:

I apologize if some parts of the film are a bit non-sequitur... Obviously I am not majoring in cinematography.

The room is made solely of string, zip ties, hardware, trash bags, plywood and foamcore (technically not on the materials list, shhh!).

I brainstormed for a long time, trying to figure out a more elegant way to deal with the strings... Originally I had wanted to room to open and close by a crank on the back wall, but that turned out to be a nightmare. After abandoning the crank, I decided to have it open via the "rip cord" in center. That idea reminded me of The Matrix somehow, but I'm still not fully satisfied.  In my opinion, it looks a bit like it could be a fancy suicide room with a black noose showcased in the middle. I suppose it isn't perfect, but at least most of the design problems I encountered were solved.

One of the professors said on Friday that my room was "theatrical," and that the zip ties reminded him of the fringe on a leather jacket... I certainly wasn't going for the leather jacket aesthetic, but I suppose the criticisms could have been worse. One of the TAs said that she thought it had an insect-like quality to it, which was much closer to my aim. I was striving to take materials that most people think of as trash and turn them into something that seemed more natural. The room actually makes a very organic sound when you get inside it, or if the wind moves the wings a little bit. All the zip ties rustle together lightly, and it sounds very similar to the sound of walking through tall grass. Here are a couple of stills that highlight some of the forms the room can take:

This project completely changed the way I see myself as a designer. Now if ever I see a really awesome chair or a unique lamp (again with the furniture obsession) I have a strange confidence. I don't feel so desperate to buy an innovative design before it sells out, because I know I could figure out how to build it myself. It might not be perfect the first time, and I might have to ask for help, but I could do it. Because of this project, I have much more confidence in my own hands.

The Best Pizza (and Architecture) in NYC

On the weekend of the 4th of this month, the first-year architecture students took a trip to New York City. It was my first time visiting the city, and I think it was a good experience. We crammed as much as we could fit into two days, and we were all beat by the end, but it was fun.

Our first stop was the Noguchi Museum in Queens. Noguchi was quite the renaissance man, it seems. He was a furniture maker, a painter, a sculptor, an architect and a designer of parks and monuments. The museum itself is actually the building that served as his studio before he died. Here are a few highlights from the museum:

(Click to enlarge)

Here's one of the doors in the museum. It somehow seems like something you might see in the dungeon of a castle, but I really like it despite that. The sliding mechanism is interesting.

This was actually the most beautiful things I saw in the museum. The way the light played across the rooms was spectacular.

Yes, Noguchi was bisexual. His sculptures tended to be on the phallic side, which made the students giggle, but our professors weren't uncomfortable answering questions. They say you won't last long in architecture if you're too prudish.

Here's a delightful little table Noguchi designed (also, the basket-weaved chair on the right).

The next stop was the Museum of Modern Art:

This was in the lobby. Something about this photo seems very Men In Black - perhaps the alien glow of the sculpture or the security guy who is trapped in the the egg. The artist, Paula Hayes, designed this as an ode to snail reproduction. Yummy.

The painting by Francis Picabia was named "I See Again in Memory My Dear Udnie." To me, it looks like breakfast. Here you have an abstract interpretation of eggs, bacon, pancakes, steam, and a frying pan.

This was too perfect. I call this photographic masterpiece "Red."

I have a bizarre furniture fetish. I love the fluidity of these chairs. Again, I can't remember the names of the artists, but whoever they are, I admire them.

The next morning at 9:00 am, we met in the drizzling weather to walk The High Line. The High Line is a long, skinny park that is suspended above the ground. At one point, it was a raised railroad that brought raw materials into NYC when downtown was a manufacturing powerhouse. For years after the trains stopped using the tracks, they stood empty and wasted, until the city decided to transform it into a sort of urban park. It's mainly a wide sidewalk, but there are also small xeriscape gardens, hefty wooden lawn chairs (that slide on mini train tracks) and benches. Sadly I don't have any photos of the park itself, but you can click here to visit the High Line Website if you're really curious about it.

Here are some views of the city from the High Line:

I believe this was Frank Gehry's first building in NYC. He and his firm formulated a way to bend glass to it's maximum before breakage in order to construct this.

Our next destination was the Chelsea Market, which was easily my favorite thing we did in NYC. Now it's a rather boutique-y shopping space/munchies place, but it was once a hulled-out warehouse. Plenty of the rustic details from the warehouse days are still preserved, but the space has been so beautifully re-purposed. Here are a few snapshots from the market:

I apologize for the distortion of this shot, but I couldn't resist. This was one of the coolest parts of the market.

Here are a couple of photos from a place called Annie's Bread. I had the softest and most delicious cinnamon knot there. Sadly, I consumed it before I could take a picture of it, but I did remember to shoot the bakery itself. The great thing about Chelsea Market is that most all of the foodspots make their wares on-site, and in a place the customer can see it. It feels like a much healthier way to eat. (On a side note, you would think that finding organic food in the city would be hard to do, but it is actually easier than almost anywhere else.) 

The main vein.

Again with the furniture - I know. I promise this will be the last of it. I just thought this table was the coolest thing.

(Click to zoom)

This was the display in the Manhattan Anthropologie, which happened to be inside Chelsea Market. The  creativity and detailing is simply gorgeous.

Next we went on a tour of contemporary architecture lead by our own professor, Marcus, who worked as a designer in NYC for years. My camera died after visiting the Hearst Building, but we also visited the New York Times Building and the Muji Store. The rest of the group saw a few other buildings, but I got separated from the group, and missed out on half of the tour.

Designed by Norman Foster, the Hearst Building was NYC's first LEED gold certified building, which means it is extremely energy efficient. I won't bore you with all the details, but I'll focus on the most interesting energy-saving feature in a moment. (Note: The art-deco building that appears below the skyscraper is part of the Hearst Building. People in New York refused to allow it to be torn down because of its historical value, so Foster decided to hull it out and drop his new, energy-efficient tower inside.)

Again, sorry for the distortion. Even this photo doesn't do the space justice.

Interior (Courtesy Zach Ressler)
The glass strips you see are usually part of a giant waterfall called "Ice Falls" in the lobby. The waterfall system collects rain water from the roof, then uses it to cool the space in the summer and humidify it in the winter. Unfortunately it wasn't running while we were there, but perhaps someday I'll see it in action.

We passed this, and Marcus called it a "Minimal Dwelling." Brrr.

That night we visited Little Italy:

 All the fire hydrants were painted like this, and there were these huge banners hanging from buildings that read "S.P.Q.R"

This woman had the world's most perfect legs, so I couldn't resist trying to get a few shots of her (her outfit was also incredibly chic) but I think it started to freak her boyfriend out.

We stopped in this adorable pastry shop in Little Italy called Ferrara. They made some excellent cookies.

And if you're wondering, we didn't have time to eat at every single pizza place in New York City, but we did try the pizza at Angelo's on 55th Street, and it was the best I've ever had, hands down. I would go back just to get another pizza from Angelo's. If you're ever in the neighborhood, stop by and try a piece. You won't be disappointed.