small lessons Nine people in ten seriously suppose that the good or bad appearance of things depends on their design alone. -David Pye, The Nature of Design 1
architecture | lessons learned by peter osborne
construction concept process craft product
mean a lack of experimentation. There is always some level of experimentation and research that goes into the design of any project; the transient shelf was no different. On the drafting table it took on different shapes, hinging options and materials. But if good architecture is a combination of good design and good construction, there is actually more room for true experimentation and research if you move away from the drafting table or computer screen and into the workshop. Errors I made in construction and finishing will inform future variations on the shelf – variations as simple as changing the wood. Lessons learned on plywood can transfer to a more exotic wood with less fear of failure; building one version and truly understanding how the hinging works informs different shapes and hinging options. Architecture is no different, details and material selections need to be used and experimented with over the course of several projects if one hopes to develop their capabilities. As much time as I spent thinking about, drawing and modelling my design, it was construction where the real action was. The construction of the shelf, not the concept, shaped the final appearance. No matter how good construction documents are, it is the spontaneity and creativity on the job site that can either hide mistakes or ensure that a detail is built correctly. The success or failure of the design is dependant on both the skill of the designer and the skill of the builder. Even good ideas can be constructed poorly. Proceeding with the transient shelf, I quickly realised just how much time is spent on finishing. I spent as much, if not more time sanding and varnishing surfaces as I did cutting and assembling the major components. The big moves and decisions are, generally by measuring twice and cutting once, easily accomplished. In one day with a table saw I had all the panels I needed for the shelf. Building design is no different – large gestures such as overall massing are easily achieved, but it is the subtlety of the detailing that defines the quality of the final product. On a piece of furniture, the time spent finishing a surface is critical; it is what the user encounters, touches and engages. In buildings it is the handrails, wall finishes and corners that people come in contact with, not the bird’s eye perspective rendered to look like a photograph. These are also the building components that need to be worked through on site with the contractor, or mocked up with the craftsmen who are doing the work. Learning from my little mistakes, I have been able to glean big lessons about just how much people affect the process of design and construction. The way architecture is currently presented, with a virtual context and a memorable image, removes people from the process. But, no matter how much of your building is computer-manufactured and assembled with the help of GPS surveys, it will be a person with a paint brush touching up your steel that will determine its final appearance. v
As architects we make a living from drawing our intentions. We provide a set of instructions which are interpreted by a contractor who builds our design. Designs are envisioned virtually, as 3-d models or hand sketches; a design idea is often divorced from the construction process. There is a tradition of architects experimenting, often with furniture, as a way of informing their architecture. These small objects can provide big lessons about construction, materials and process. To engage this tradition, I set out to design and build a shelf. A student at the time, my living situation was always changing: one semester in a bachelor apartment, another with classmates in a house – I never knew what kind of space I would next be in. The shelf had no specific requirements other than to accommodate future site changes. With this vague set of design parameters, I put pen to paper on the transient shelf. I quickly realised that it would be my own ability to build the shelf that would be the limiting factor in its design. David Pye in The Nature of Design said, ‘The only considerable technical limitations on design are imposed by our ineptitude at processing materials’. 2 In the end, my ineptitude in woodworking drove the design. The final forms are rectilinear jointed with biscuits; the boxes have no hardware other than simple hinges because that was easiest to build. Plywood was the primary building material because it was economical, structurally stable and easy to work with. Other forms could have been sexier or more experimental, expensive hardware may have changed the way the boxes were hinged, but I may not have been able to process the materials. The idea that the design of furniture is limited by our ability or inability to process materials is transferable to buildings. It is important to realise that at some point a person is going to have a direct effect on your design. It will be the mason’s, the drywaller’s or the painter’s ability to process material that will be the limiting factor to the quality of the final building. Like my simple biscuit joints, using common construction techniques can ensure intended details are carried out. Studying local vernacular building techniques that are well known to local craftsmen can allow for a richer architecture with a tectonic connection to place. Vernacular building techniques do not
1 David Pye, The Nature of Design . London: Studio Vista, 1964. p 86 2 Pye, The Nature of Design . p 47
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On Site review 23
Small Things
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