As architects, who do we serve? As a client business, we serve our paying customers. As licensed professionals, we serve regulatory standards and safety codes. As community members, we serve society. As creative individuals, we serve an artistic agenda and the zeitgeist.
(photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash)
What happens when an architect knows that a client request is not right? Do we serve the client or the project? Is the customer always right, as the trite retail truism suggest?
There is a difference between serving those who pay for our services vs. recognizing the end users. For example, a school district may sign our contract and pay our monthly invoices, but the educational buildings we design support the students and teachers—the end users.
In an unfortunate example, a colleague architect focused their attention on how students would learn at a new high school—serving the end users. The paying client felt the architect’s service—and loyalty even—were not prioritized appropriately. This architect was fired.
(photo by MChe Lee on Unsplash)
As state-licensed experts, architects are bound to ethical and professional responsibilities to “protect the health, safety, and welfare of the public.” When designing a theater for example, architects are required by building codes to design the appropriate number of emergency exits. Let’s say three exits are required, but the client wants only two. Here, we serve the safety and welfare of the theater-going audience, not the client.
(photo by Tarik Haiga on Unsplash)
Architects also serve the environment, as stewards of this planet. Whether a project’s goals prioritize sustainability or not, architects are charged with minimizing negative environmental impacts. We are responsible to consider the lifecycle of a building and its energy efficiency, waste reduction, and green materials. Though a project may be for today, architects’ decisions serve future generations of the planet’s inhabitants.
(photo by Qingbao Meng on Unsplash)
There are fixed values that architects also serve, some mundane and some obvious. As a manager of a project’s delivery, architects are beholden to a budget and schedule. Also, science forces a framework around our creative decisions. Our ideas are bound by constructability and the laws of gravity. Though we may envision a dramatic cantilevered structure off a cliff over the ocean, rules of engineering require reality checks.
Circle House, Three Lakes, Wisconsin, by Poon Design
For better or for worse, architects also serve their ego. We apply our skills to shape a world vision that buzzes around in our brains. If Frank Lloyd Wright generically served the client who sought a weekend retreat house in Pennsylvania, there would be no Falling Water. Wright’s ego—and even arrogance towards the laws of gravity—delivered the dramatic three-story residence that cantilevers over a small waterfall. (I mention arrogance, because as impressive as the design is, ignoring the laws of science has resulted in a home plagued with sagging terraces, sinking floors, cracking concrete, and water leaks.)
Falling Water, Mill Run, Pennsylvania (photo by Anthony Poon)
So yes, architects serve a creative agenda whether a personal one, a movement like Post-Modernism or Mid-Century Modern Revival, or current themes of the industry, such as AI, prefab, and resilience. Amongst such interests, we also serve our clients and projects, society as a whole, end users, the environment, and our present and future. And gravity. Juggling all this is no easy task.
upper left: St. Coletta School of Greater Washington, Washington, DC, Post-Modernism by Michael Graves (photo from ludosici.com); upper right: Mid-Century Modernism, Palm Springs, California (photo Peter Thomas on Unsplash); lower left: Modular prefab house, by Poon Design for ReMo (photo by Anthony Poon); lower right: Fire hazard, Bintan Island, Indonesia (photo by Thomas Ehling on Unsplash)
#176: THROWING A CURVE BALL
September 29, 2023
Absolute World Towers, Ontario, Canada (photo by Yusuf Sh on Pexels)
Drafting tools (photo by Anthony Poon)
In the good ol’ days of architecture, walls were straight, flat, and perpendicular. With the introduction of drafting triangles, we were excited to draw walls that were angled. But drawing a curve was tricky. Those French curve templates had limits.
With today’s drafting and 3D technology, we can throw a curve ball at the past and explore simple bends, compound curves, organic forms of all shapes and sizes.
Yurt and igloo (photos by Yang Shuo on Unsplash and by Aleksandra Sapozhnikova on Unsplash)
For vernacular houses, such as a yurt or igloo, curved surfaces were not an indulgence of the architect’s ego. Rather, common sense coupled with the laws of nature resulted in rounded shapes, wind resistance, structural efficiency and reduction of wasted materials.
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum , New York, New York, (photo by Nicholas Ceglia on Unsplash)
Frank Lloyd Wright explored curves, but as pure circles and arcs—meaning, as simple forms limited by the tools of the trade and indifference to the Avant-garde. As graceful as Wright’s Guggenheim museum is, the design is carefully composed compared to the fluidity and excess we see with today’s explorations with curvature.
Richard Gilder Center for Science, Education, and Innovation, New York, New York (photo by Iwan Baan)
I remember in architectural school (here and here), teachers of limited imagination associated curvaceous forms with the woman students, stating supposed allegiance to sensual “feminine” shapes. On the other hand, straight lines were hard and masculine, even threatening. For children, a protruding right-angled corner of a coffee table could be literally dangerous, as compared to a voluptuous round table—thought of as maternal even. In 1909, American psychologist Kate Gordon Moore argued, “Curves are in general felt to be more beautiful than straight lines. They are more graceful and pliable, and avoid the harshness of some straight lines.”
Wood Ribbon Apartment, Paris, France (photo by Salem Moustefaoui)
Recent brain scan studies have shown how curves in architecture contribute to positive emotional experiences and psychological health and calm. The opposite results: Corners, straight walls and perpendicular lines bring upon a sense of fear, such as with a sharp weapon.
Disney Concert Hall, Los Angeles, California (photo by Ashim D’Silva on Unsplash)
One reason for our allegiance to curved surfaces and forms lies in nature, which contains more curves than straight lines. And the field of Biophilia has demonstrated our instinctive desire for nature and the resulting well-being and happiness. Similarly, the human face—its shapes and forms—contains curves. A joyful smile is one of the most powerful and elemental curve.
Niterói Contemporary Art Museum, Niterói, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil (photo by Washington Oliveira on Pexels)
Perhaps for centuries, we have favored softer forms—walls that curve, roofs that bend and structures that arc. Thanks to today’s technology, we can explore the curvaceous shapes within our imagination, then represent them on the computer screen or on paper. Technology allows the architect and engineer to develop curvy ideas as virtually implementable in brick and mortar. And it is technology that ultimately allows a builder to construct the curved shapes in reality.
Museo Soumaya, Mexico (photo by Arturo Meza Olivares from Pixabay)
I conclude with Jessica Rabbit and her explanation of her curvaceousness, “I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way.”
Hillside House, Los Angeles, California, by Poon Design (photo by Anthony Poon)
#158: LOS ANGELES BAKER’S DOZEN
September 16, 2022
(photo by Julius Schulman)
As a Los Angeles architect, I am often asked, “What are your favorite buildings in the city?” Considering houses, concert halls, schools, temples—it is difficult to answer. There are so many great works of architecture. To have parameters, I stuck to the City of Los Angeles. I did not include the many treasures in adjacent cities like West Hollywood, Santa Monica, Beverly Hills, etc.. Also, I couldn’t decide on the typical “top ten,” like I have done each year (2019, 2020, and 2021). So in no particular order, here you go: a Baker’s Dozen.
(photo by Juan Carlos Becerra on Unsplash)
1: In the evening, the John Ferraro Building, commonly known as the LADWP Headquarters, glows like a beacon of downtown. More than a 1960s office building, architect A. C. Martin created an iconic structure metaphoric of the department’s command over water and power. Floating in a massive reflecting pond that hovers over the parking, the building captures one end of the city’s grand axis that aligns the Music Center and Grand Park, and terminating at City Hall.
(photo from raimundkoch.com)
2: A city-within-a-city, Emerson College by Morphosis offers a collegiate identity unlike anything before. Within 107,000 square feet, two large sinuous structures sit within a ten-story, frame-like building—providing housing for 190 students, educational spaces, production labs, and offices. The technology of computational scripting guided the patterns of the aluminum sunscreens and organic building shapes.
(photo by Peter Thomas on Unsplash)
3: Few homes capture the zeitgeist of the Mid-Century Modern movement alongside the family life of the homeowners. Husband and wife design giants, Charles and Ray Eames, created this Case Study House No. 8, simply called the Eames House, to serve as their residence, work space, and design laboratory. The beauty of the architecture stems from the simplicity of form, lightness on the site, and prefabricated materials. Each year, 20,000 design fanatics tour this National Historic Landmark.
(photo by Anthony Poon)
4: Rafael Moneo Arquitecto graces the urban landscape with his Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. Serving as the mother church for the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, this design explores a myriad of tilted lines (an avoidance of any right angles), solid concrete walls several feet thick, and the dramatic control of light and shadows—delivering a complex composition of tension/calm, grandeur/intimacy, and mystery/faith.
(photo by StockSnap from Pixabay)
5: The 1892 landmark Bradbury Building by George Wyman and Sumner Hunt is a classic masterpiece of traditional materials, ornate details, and sun and air. Appearing in numerous works of fiction, movies, television, and music videos, the five-story office building was honored as a National Historic Landmark in 1977, Los Angeles’ oldest landmarked building—today restored to perfection. The skylit atrium—casting intricate shadows of ironwork against surfaces of tile, brick, and terracotta—delivers the beating heart of the building.
(photo by Anthony Poon)
6: The existing 1953 Getty Villa—a passable recreation of a 1000 A.D. Roman house—pales in comparison to the 2006 addition by Machado Silvetti. For this museum dedicated to the classical arts, the contemporary renovations and surgical insertions offer a contrasting dialogue of old and new , of history and the future. Like a palimpsest, the layers upon layers of materials, exquisite details upon exquisite details border on excessively articulate, yet reaches the sublime.
(photo by Anthony Poon)
7: Frank Lloyd Wright’sHollyhock House was the first American work of contemporary design added to the UNESCO World Heritage List. Sometimes referred to as Mayan Revival, the ambitious courtyard house of 1921 comprises an intricate balance of split level floor plates, roof terraces, and steps throughout. The hollyhock—the favorite flower of the owner and oil heiress, Aline Barnsdall—drives the architectural patterns, decorative details, and stained glass windows.
(photo from lacma.org)
8: Upon completion in 1988, the Pavilion for Japanese Art baffled visitors. The enigmatic 32,000-square-foot building by Bruce Goff—a bizarre combination of sweeping roof forms, cylindrical towers, tusk-like beams, green stucco, and translucent windows—divided critics. Was the work visionary or grotesque? Master architect Peter Zumthor has decided the Pavilion’s worth: His master plan for the campus of LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art), has already demolished nearly all existing structures. Goff’s building will remain.
(photo by Talal Albagdadi from Pixabay)
9: The honeycomb exterior skin of The Broad captivates passersby on this busy downtown street. An instant architectural icon and Instagram-able moment, this three-story museum by Diller Scofidio + Renfro presents a porous wrapper the architects call the “veil”—composed of 2,500 rhomboidal forms of fiberglass-reinforced concrete. Within this “veil” sits the “vault”—the concrete core of the museum housing laboratories, offices, and the massive collections of art not currently on exhibit.
(photo by Anthony Poon)
10: The Stahl House, or to many, Case Study House No. 22, is one of the most famous homes in the history of the architecture world. Designed by Pierre Koenig and made known by Julius Shulman, considered the greatest architectural photographer of all time, the soaring hilltop residence made the 2007 AIA list of “America’s Favorite Architecture.” My one criticism is this: The kids have to walk through the master bedroom to get to their two bedrooms. Perhaps an exploration of domesticity?
(photo by Anthony Poon)
11. Both a work of art and architecture. Sabato Rodia, Los Angeles’ own Antoni Gaudi, constructed the Watts Towers with few tools and mostly his bare hands. From 1921 to 1954, this Italian immigrant construction worker toyed with concrete, rebar, wire, and tile—even ceramics, seashells, and broken bottles. Recognized with honors over time, the project was designated a National Historic Landmark, and one of only nine folk art sites listed in the National Register of Historic Places in Los Angeles.
(photo from jamesfgoldstein.com)
12. A master class in late Mid-Century Modernism, John Lautner gave us the Sheats-Goldstein Residence, a daring home set into the ledge of a sandstone hill. The intimacy of the arrival counters the living room’s explosive embrace with the city view and surrounding nature. The geometry of triangles upon triangles, a revolutionary concrete roof structure, and endless glass walls have captivated pop culture with cameos in films from Charlie’s Angels to The Big Lebowski.
(photo by Futuregirl from Pixabay)
13. No list of local great buildings can exclude Frank Gehry’s almighty Walt Disney Concert Hall. Though the architect had to travel to Bilbao, Spain to prove he is the most famous architect of our time, though the Disney Concert Hall took 15 years to complete and resulted in 300% over budget, the project stands as prominent as the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, or the Sydney Opera House.
As mentioned, there are so many iconic masterpieces just outside of Los Angeles. Here are half a dozen. And for my favorite buildings of all time, here.
top left: Creative Artists Agency, Beverly Hills, by I.M. Pei and Associates (photo from techooficespaces.com); top middle: Prada Epicenter, Beverly Hills, by OMA (photo by Anthony Poon); top right: Horatio Court, Santa Monica, by Irving Gill (photo by smallatlarge.com); bottom left: Broad Beach Residence, Malibu, by Michael Maltzman Architecture, Inc. (photo from mattconstruction.com); bottom middle: Schindler House, West Hollywood, by Rudolf Schindler (photo from makcenter.org); bottom right: Art Center College, Pasadena, by Craig Ellwood (photo by u/archineering)
#154: WHAT IS YOUR BRAND?
June 24, 2022
Architecture by Zaha Hadid – upper left: Vitra Fire Station, Weil am Rhein, Germany; upper right: Library and Learning Centre University of Economics, Vienna, Austria; lower right: MAXXI: Museum of XXI Century Arts, Rome, Italy; lower right: Evelyn Grace Academy, London, England (photos from www.re-thinkingthefuture.com)
Whether a company, institution, or even an individual, it is imperative to establish a brand—a distinct identity, a unique look and feel that distinguishes from others. But whereas branding can help to establish a foothold in the marketplace, does it limit evolution of self?
Our retail and hospitality clients call their brand, “trade dress.” A corporation might brand their company identity through the enactment of a mission statement. However one’s brand is created and implemented, it can offer a road map, and others can join this journey knowing where they are going. Speak the company names of Apple, BMW, Disney, or McDonald’s, and everyone has a sense of that company’s brand, what they pitch, what is sold, and who we as customers consume.
Porsche Panamera (photo by Peter Miranda on Unsplash)
On the other hand, an established brand can be like a straitjacket, restraining deviation and exploration that might lead to new opportunities. When Porsche, an automaker known for German efficiency and lean design, presented the Panamera, customers were baffled. This hulking sedan—more akin to an over-stuffed luxury vehicle than the agile Carrera—startled some, wondering what happen to the brand of Porsche. Was it risk-taking evolution or misguided brand confusion? The term “off-brand” reverberated in the halls of criticism.
Art by Patrick Nagel – left to right: Untitled (photo from artsandcollections.com); Untitled (photo from dreamboatsandhose.wordpress.com); Commemorative #10 (photo from 1stdibs.com); Jennifer Dumas (photo from fineart.ha.com)
In art, consider the commercially successful works like Patrick Nagel’s soft-porn, male-fantasy caricatures (above) or Robert Longo’s thrashing individuals in business attire (below). Such art have reaped great exposure over the decades, from leading the pop culture zeitgeist to expanding in niche communities, to relishing a Renaissance of mainstream market presence. Some argue that the work, and that of many artists, look the same. But in the context of branding, repetition is not necessarily a bad thing, as it results in recognizability.
Art by Robert Longo – Blonde one: Barbara (photo from fineartmultiple.com) Man leaning back: Untitled (photo from pacegallery.com) Women with hands over face: Cindy (photo from whitney.org) Untitled (photo from redbubble.com)
In architecture, companies big and small are branded as well. Some architects have developed a brand as a formulaic visual style. Others have branded their design process or a model of customer service. In the sphere of artistry, being predictable could be a death blow. But at times, cookie cutter processes can make for good business.
Architecture by Richard Meier – top left: Barcelona Musuem of Contemporary Art, Barcelona, Spain (photo by Alexie Bague, Plane-Site); top right: The Atheneum, New Harmony, Indiana (photo from archdaily.com); bottom left: Swissair North American Headquarters, Melville, New York (photo from rmparchives.xyz); bottom right: Museum Frieder Burda, Baden-Baden, Germany (photo from facebook.com/friederburda)
When an architect like Frank Gehry or Richard Meier (above), or actually any number of well-known designers, approach a project with the same road map resulting in what the building will look like, such formulas are profitable through their efficiency. For example, Meier doesn’t need to explore all the paint colors offered to him. He already knows that his building will be some shade of white. In business, this kind of brand saves times and makes the production swift. Clients don’t question the results much because they know the brand, and even expect it. The pitch is simple and evident from the start.
Architecture by Michael Graves – top left: Engineering Research Center, University of Cincinnati, Ohio (photo from reddit.com): top right: Disney Headquarters, Burbank, California (photo from friendsofarch.photoshelter.com); lower left: Denver Central Library, Colorado (photo from pinterest.com/jann5068/christopher-wren); lower right: Hyatt Regency La Jolla at Aventine, La Jolla, San Diego (photo from travel.usnews.com)
Architecture by Frank Lloyd Wright – upper left: Darwin D. Martin House, Buffalo, New York (photo from susancohangardens.com); upper right: Frederick C. Robie House, Chicago, Illinois (photo from architectmagazine.com); lower left: Allen House in Wichita, Kansas (photo from visitwichita.com); lower right: Schwartz House, Two Rivers, Wisconsin (photo from wrightinwisconsin.org)
But what about risks and experimentation? Evolution, artistic progress, improvisation —such things fuel the design journey, challenges the industry’s status quo, as well as internal agendas. Finding the right balance within the spectrum is the challenge—to create a brand that provides recognition and stability, while paving paths to an unknown future.
#150: EGO AND ARROGANCE
April 1, 2022
left to right: Pyramid at the Louvre Museum, Paris, France (photo by Michael Fousert; on Unsplash); Eiffel Tower, Paris, France (photo by Anthony Delanoix on Unsplash); Guggenheim Museum, New York, New York (photo by Dennis on Unsplash); Burg Khalifa, Dubai, United Arab Emirates (photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash)
Architects design homes, schools, skyscrapers, entire cities. Who has given architects this role and influence in society, and what have we done with it? From the Pyramid at the Louvre to the Eiffel Tower , from the Guggenheim to the Burg Khalifa in Dubai—architect’s egos are stamped all over cities, all over the world. Danish architect, Bjarke Ingels, even has drawings to literally redesign Earth.
Me presenting, The Creative Process and The Ego, Modernism Week 2022, Palm Springs, California (photo by Olive Stays)
Master builder, master designer, master creator—architects have been granted the responsibility to impact communities and cultural progress, through the flexing of creative muscles. The offering of world icons and or definitive works stems from both talent and skill, as well as confidence and ego. Consider Philip Johnson’s pithy quote.
But ego can lead to influence, influence to power, and power to arrogance. And arrogance can either drive a project into successful territory or regrettable disaster. For the latter, two projects come to mind.
At the University of California, Santa Barbara, a hotly debated project known as Munger Hall has every architect, student, parent, and community member up in arms. For this proposed $1 billion, 1.7 million square foot, 11-story dormitory for 4,500 students, there has been a very little support. For the amateur architect and developer, Charlie Munger (billionaire and partner to Warren Buffet) and Southern California architect-of-record, VTBS (yes, B-S), the wrath bestowed on this project approved is universal. To sum it up, there has not been so much loathing in recent history. There are many reasons for the abhorrence, but the main objection is that 95% of the dorm rooms will have NO WINDOWS. No natural light. No fresh air. No view to the outside.
Munger Hall (drawings and rendering from VTBS)
The arrogance of Munger comes from believing that: 1) Fronting the construction cost gives him the unconditional ticket to design whatever he wants, and 2) he and VTBS are convinced that windowless dormitory rooms are not just acceptable, but a creative success, even a bragging right. And everything from science to history, and real life to design guidelines, have proven this idea to be horrific.
Consider the residential estate in Bel Air, California, simply called “The One.” The conceit within that title alone reeks of egotism. Here, this spec house, with an asking price of $500 million, includes 105,000-square-foot, 20 bedrooms with a 5000-square-foot master bedroom suite, 42 bathrooms, a 10,000-bottle wine cellar, 50-car garage, and four swimming pools—to name a few details.
“The One,” Bel Air, Los Angeles, California (photo by Michael Leonard, The Society Group)
Bel Air is a community of wealth, where some of the largest mansions have been built over the years. As seen above, the two circled homes are such mansions of prestige and wealth. And between them is the out-of-scale, gargantuan vanity of developer Nile Niami and architect Paul McClean. The cautionary tale? No one wants such a home. The property recently sold for only $141 million, which is a mere one-third of the asking price.
Basilica of Santa Croce, Florence, Italy (photo by Guy Dugas on Pixabay); Medici family (image from historyhit.com)
Historically, architects were given such power by an omnipotent clients such as the Medici’s, but in today’s culture of individualism and self-promotion, such projects as Munger Hall and The One are fueled by confidence and salesmanship, perhaps even narcissism.
Frank Lloyd Wright and his apprentices (photo from drtuesdaygjohnson.tumblr.com)
Author Meryle Secrest wrote of Frank Lloyd Wright, “If he had intended to live out his life in the columns of newspapers, he could not have acted any more effectively. . . again and again, courting the press . . . Wright’s appetite for whatever might further his career was gargantuan.”
Accusations of megalomania have been projected onto Bjarke Ingels and his company, BIG, with 550 employees in offices in Copenhagen, New York, London, and Barcelona. Ingels himself counters the Miesian platitude, “Less is more,” and instead proclaims, “Yes is more.”
Bjarke Ingels sketching (photo from youtube.com)
Check yourself. When does confidence become righteousness, talent become ego, and prowess become arrogance? How does self-assurance and pride become condescension and smugness? Who shall “inherit the earth”?
#141: SEATTLE HEROES AND ICONS
September 24, 2021
left to right: Seattle Century Library; Museum of Pop Culture; The Spheres, Amazon (photos by Anthony Poon)
Upon a visit to Seattle, I confronted three different buildings—all leaving a seductive imprint on the city and my memory.
– Seattle Central Library by Pritzker-laureate Rem Koolhaas,
– Musuem of Pop Culture by Pritzker-laureate Frank Gehry, and
– The Spheres at Amazon by corporate NBBJ.
The first two projects are by two of the most famous living architects on the planet. The third is by an anonymous company, one without the trappings of a sole Wright-ian genius which gives way to collaboration instead—for better or worse.
(Three disclaimers: Rem Koolhaas was my professor in grad school; I was employed by NBBJ in the 90s; and I did not have an opportunity to visit the interiors of The Spheres.)
THE SEATTLE CENTRAL LIBRARY
Seattle Central Library (photo by Anthony Poon)Library and its neighbor (photo by Anthony Poon)
The Seattle Central Library, designed by the Rem Koolhaas and shepherded by local Architect-of-Record, LMN, opened to the public in 2004—the winner of a lengthy design competition. The reviews of this 11-level, 363,000-square-foot building varied.
The international architectural scene claimed the design a heroic success. Others saw a design with a target on its back—and its front too. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer spewed adjectives: “decidedly unpleasant,” “relentlessly monotonous,” and “profoundly dreary.”
I side with the glorious praise hailed from the enlightened world. The library design comprises community spaces that engage the public on many levels, (literally) as well as a civic icon unlike anything seen before.
Conceptual model and section diagram (from archdaily.com)
As Professor Koolhaas taught us in school: Do not design simply in floor plan, meaning, not just one-dimensionally laying out an auditorium next to offices next to restrooms. Instead, design in section, meaning, three dimensionally as one places a library over a five-story high living room, then tucking parking under the auditorium.
Library interiors (photos by Anthony Poon)
The library’s innovative and challenging (yes!) urban form, the diamond-patterned skin of glass and steel, a four-level spiral of books, a complex layering of space and experience, and so on—all this together convinces me that I have walked into one of the most exciting works of contemporary architecture.
THE MUSEUM OF POP CULTURE
Musuem of Pop Culture and the Seattle Center Monorail (photo by Hester Qiang on Unsplash)
The Museum of Pop Culture, coined “MoPOP,” opened in 2000 under the former name, the Experience Music Project—coincidentally also included the participation of the same Architect-of-Record, LMN. Frank Gehry’s design, though predictable and yet another variation-on-a-theme (nearly a career-long theme) offers passerby’s a composition of great risk and resulting beauty.
Museum of Pop Culture, various metal exterior skins (photo by Lucas Myers on Unsplash)
According to the client, “When Frank O. Gehry began designing the museum, he was inspired to create a structure that evoked the rock ‘n’ roll experience. He purchased several electric guitars, sliced them into pieces, and used them as building blocks for an early model design.”
Such tales subscribe to the mad artist genius syndrome. True or not, it makes Gehry sound like less of a thoughtful architect creating wonderful spaces for the public, and more like an awkward child who believes that the broken pieces of a guitar can represent a work of architecture.
Museum of Pop Culture, exterior stainless steel shingles (photo by Leif Christoph Gottwald on Unsplash)
Five giant building masses sit at the base of the Space Needle, each mass clad in enigmatic surfaces, like fire-engine-red stainless steel or fuchsia-fluorocarbon-coated aluminum—comprising a total of 21,000 individually cut metal shingles. As an object, as architectural sculpture, the composition is stunning. Does not disappoint. Having the monorail pass through the building is yet another daring move that delivers a thrilling creation.
But the 140,000 square feet of interior space underwhelms, fails to translate the exterior exhilaration to the indoors. Whereas the Seattle Central library sings with its visionary interior design, MoPOP falls out of tune. Aside from a few flourishes, like a dynamic staircase or a contorted lobby space, most of the museum’s inside is not much more than generic exhibit space. One might argue that a museum’s interiors should be flexible and so inherently boring, but I would then direct your attention to the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, also by Gehry.
THE SPHERES, AMAZON
The Spheres, Amazon (photo by Alexandra Tran on Unsplash)
You don’t need the singular vision of great artistic minds like Koolhaas and Gehry to deliver good architecture. Unlike the first two projects, NBBJ played the role of Design Architect and local Architect-of-Record, meaning both the creative lead as well as the development and production team.
Aptly named The Spheres, Amazon’s new workplace and quasi-visitor center is made of three giant glass and steel spheres, colliding like a kid’s exhaled soapy water bubbles. Recently completed in 2018, Amazon claims, “The Spheres are a place where employees can think and work differently surrounded by plants.”
Interiors (photo by Fran on Unsplash)
Is it just another glamorized office? Just more “creative office space” glorified by real estate agents? But the phrase “surrounded by plants” fascinates me.
The spherical structures, conservatories actually, house 40,000 plants from over 30 countries. Within a meticulously engineered structure of 2,600 pentagonal hexecontahedron panes of glass alongside 620 tons of steel, I see one of the finest examples of biophilia. For reference, a past article, “Biophilic Design refers to our instinctive association to nature and the resulting architecture that enhances our well-being.”
Floor plans and diagrams (from archdaily.com)
Aside from the obvious design reference to Buckminster Fuller’s utopian geodesic domes of the 60s, the Amazon Spheres offer a new narrative for office space, retail, café, and meeting places. NBBJ has shed the dogmatic aim of developers to maximize floor area. Similar to Koolhaas, NBBJ celebrates the magnificence of volume, as in cubic footage (or in this case, spherical footage) and the capture of air, light, and a more productive work culture.
Exterior at night (photo by Patrick Schneider on Unsplash)
The total result is impressive, likely to be a local fan favorite and on every city tour guide. The design is good, even great, but is it inspired? Will it change the world? Probably not.
But the Seattle Central Library has already influenced the way architecture students think, the way teachers teach, the way professional architects design. Most of Rem Koolhaas’ projects deliver new ideas beyond form-making, embracing social engagement and re-inventing the meaning of living, shopping, or learning.
Frank Gehry, on the other hand, seems to be playing the same note over and over again. But is that wrong, especially if this one note is sheer genius played with virtuosity?
