Beware a Generic Olympics!

Globe image

Rendering submitted as part of Boston’s Olympic bid

Now that Boston has prevailed as a finalist for the 2024 Olympics, it’s time for the Boston 2024 Organizing Committee to make several important additions to their list of planning priorities. In addition to launching a public outreach campaign to seek public input and garner more support for the Games, the Committee should understand and promote their cultural potential. I hope design innovation is a focus for the next round of planning. One of my platforms when I ran as BSA President was to promote initiatives that would help Boston become a global design city like Copenhagen and Montreal. Planning for the Olympics is the perfect vehicle to help meet this goal.

The proposal to date already includes progressive planning strategies, including a focus on mass transit, building reuse, and walkability. In fact, these attributes were a key factor in the win because they helped make a case for a relatively low overall price tag. But this forward-looking approach needs to migrate into finer-grain decisions, including the architectural characteristics of buildings large and small, the branding of the Games, and the visual quality of the spectacles that are a hallmark of the Olympics. A refined proposal should fully leverage the incredible talent in Boston across disciplines that include architecture, landscape interactive lighting design, industrial design, and graphic design. In addition, the MIT SENSEable City and Media Labs and the professors and research fellows at area design schools should be a resource.

The Olympics provide the perfect opportunity to foster a wider bandwidth of design practices because design thinking will be needed to inform both large-scale planning decisions and to help define the physical character of multiple facilities and events. First and foremost, the new sports venues and the Olympic Village need to pull in and showcase the larger city. The generic rendering of the Boston Games that were published in yesterday’s Globe (see above) looked like they could have been located anywhere and were probably produced by the hand of someone who has never been to Boston. The views of an Olympic Village along the Reserved Channel – produced by Yale students last spring – did a much better job of capturing the potential character of the Boston Games.

Proposal by Nicholas Muraglia and Sarah Smith

Proposal by Nicholas Muraglia and Sarah Smith

Proposed new facilities – like the modular stadium at Widett Circle and aquatics center – should show off Boston in the same dramatic way that Barcelona was displayed to the world in 1992 as the backdrop to the diving competitions.

Diving at the 1992 Barcelona Olympics

Diving at the 1992 Barcelona Olympics

Without a management plan that includes a strategy for effectively and efficiently outlining the design opportunities – and then marshaling the most creative people to help envision potential solutions – the Boston Olympics may turn out to be as generic, from a design perspective, as the 1996 Atlanta Games. Barcelona leveraged the Olympics to become an international center of architecture and design by marshaling that city’s established and emerging design talent. Boston has the same opportunity.


Utile City vs. Turner City

Turner City

2013 Turner City, an annual interactive mash up of Turner’s significant projects

2014-11-20_Utile City-01 (2)

Utile City, updated December 2014

Thanks to a tip from Howard Davis and additional sleuthing by Alex Davis (no relation), I was directed to Turner’s fantastical mash up of their notable projects from across the country. Despite the family resemblance, there are significant differences between Utile City* and Turner City, in addition to the difference in net worth and international reach between the two organizations. The first is that Utile has chosen an axonometric line drawing over Turner’s full color aerial perspective view. In addition, Turner’s version includes ample grassy green spaces and a density that suggests an “Edge City” (like Irvine, CA or Tyson’s Corner, VA) or one of the booming life science campuses that have sprung up near universities and medical centers. Utile City, on the other hand, is a reasonable facsimile of a handful of dense walkable cities, including Boston, Toronto, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Chicago.

Most of the buildings in Turner City seem to be of the same early-21st Century vintage. Interestingly, all surface parking lots have been eliminated; as a result, we are led to assume that parking is located below the buildings in the scene. Utile City, in contrast, has the earmarks of a city with a messy and unresolved historical past. An elevated highway still makes its way through the urban fabric, parking structures dot the downtown, and early-20th Century residential buildings are cheek-to-jowl with the tough-to-humanize building types that dominated late-20th Century real estate development.

Neither city is perfect, or even a model for an urban future, but they do serve as apt symbols of the preoccupations and priorities of their respective organizations.

* Please note that at least one Turner project – the Boston Harbor Island Pavilion – is depicted in Utile City.


Tehrani on Mies, Saarinen, and Discursive Opportunities

Saarinen_IngallsRink120bn21_s1.640px (2)

Eero Saarinen, David S. Ingalls Rink, Yale University, New Haven, CT, 1953-58

As an extension of our conversation last week, I would add a few thoughts in response to Tim’s blog below – this, as an opportunity to expand on the discussion, and to overcome some of its oppositions, which may lead to reductive readings.

The connection between past and future projects in any office are sometimes inevitable, but rarely are they necessarily interesting in themselves. For this reason, I would make a case for the so-called design agenda not so much as something that underlines ‘personal’ agendas, but rather the discursive opportunities they provide. In other words, the ability to link projects, arguments, and debates across history, culture and circumstances is something that may link a design project to a broader intellectual project. The intellectual project, for me, is not only a personal commitment, but one that advances a disciplinary commitment, and thus puts the personal agenda in a broader political and ethical sphere.

The Mies-Saarinen comparison is a good one, and it helps to advance both ideas: the intellectual project through iteration (Mies), as well as the alternative, the intellectual project through the speculation of varied materials, configurations, and morphologies. Though Tim’s characterization seems to align me with the former, I would actually suggest an alternative model where Mies and Saarinen are braided together to form a commitment that cuts across the binary composition of the argument. What is fascinating about Saarinen’s work, in fact, is the precise way in which he establishes part-to-whole relationships in his projects despite variations of vocabulary. In a similar way, the Mies of the Tugendhat House, Barcelona Pavilion, and IIT show an architect of vastly different linguistic potential, someone who cuts across material and formal languages with equal ease.

As clarification, while Saarinen’s approach did vary vastly from commission to commission, his approach should probably be differentiated  from eclecticism: his individual works were highly studied material, formal and spatial artifacts that brought synthesis to each realm, even when they varied completely from his other works. In this sense, his strategic choice to speak in different languages across commissions should not be confused for lacking a disciplinary commitment, something that is here being cast as a personal agenda. In Saarinen’s work, what is fascinating is the red thread that crosses the boundary of vocabularies, from project to project, despite what may be visible at first glance.

Of course, it would be important to look at Mies and Saarinen in their own historical context to expand on this idea. Invariably the question of authorship looms behind both cases, with Mies’s later work falling into the trap of the very language he develops, while Saarinen is free to evolve from commission to commission. If Tim aligns Saarinen’s strategy with an acute awareness of his corporate clients’ varied identities, I would simply say that his brilliance came not so much in his dutiful acquiescence to those corporations, but rather his translation of their mandates into architectural terms that transcended their very culture, and with great linguistic range.

My challenge to the Utile-OU team was precisely this: how can they extend their own disciplinary research without apology on the one hand and at the same time develop a speculative spirit that takes bigger risks with form, organization, and materiality in response to their client audiences. These two agendas need not be pitted against each other if Architecture’s agency is to be considered as a central part of what we, as designers, bring to the equation. The middle ground to which Tim refers is not irrelevant, but is neither always here nor there. I am asking them for a both-and, and though their proposal is beautifully developed and conceptualized, I wonder if they are willing to take on the risk of failure, if only to advance the discourse of Architecture.

-Nader Tehrani

Design as On-going Research vs. the One-off

During a recent event at Utile where NADAAA and o,u/Utile teams shared their design submissions for a project in the Middle East, Nader Tehrani challenged the o,u/Utile team to include trans-project design research and preoccupations in future design proposals. Citing the design operations and features of a house in New Hampshire as one impetus for his team’s proposal, Tehrani made the case for disciplinary agendas that carry across multiple projects. Without stating it outright, Tehrani implied that such continuities in design agendas would result in richer and more meaningful proposals. While I favor self-conscious theorizing (while at the same time still meeting, if not exceeding, the client’s expectations), I am not sure that a practice that champions “evolving consistency” is the only model. Certainly, Mies van der Rohe’s post-war obsession with the corner of his glass and metal panel buildings is one exemplar of evolutionary architectonic thinking (Palladio’s villas are another). Mies’ multiple versions of the corner detail, provoked both by a larger conceptual agenda for each building and his growing interest in facades that suppressed the reading of the structural bay, have the same satisfying narrative arc and denouement as the sequence of prehistoric proto-horse fossils at Harvard’s Peabody Natural History Museum.

Diagrams by John Winter, The Architectural Review, February 1972

But if Mies is one kind of practice model, Eero Saarinen is another. In a very unlike-Mies way, Saarinen and his collaborators (which included, importantly, Kevin Roche), invented completely new organizational approaches and architectural languages for each new commission. And while each building partly borrowed from the work of other architects (Gordon Bunschaft and Mies – sort of – for the GM Technical Center, for example), they were each unique and fully-wrought technical, language, and symbol systems.

Eero Saarinen, GM Technical Center, Warren, Michigan, 1949-55

Eero Saarinen, TWA Flight Center, Idlewood Airport (JFK), New York, 1955-62

This eclectic approach, partly necessitated by the demands of corporate clients looking for uniquely imageable buildings, required a way of thinking that was radically opposed to Mies. Rather than play out design preoccupations across multiple commissions, Saarinen and his team must have worked vigorously to come up with novel conceptual frameworks and building systems. Utile, I think, follows a middle ground by self-consciously applying lessons learned from recent projects (both pragmatic and architectonic) while finding new issues to spark fresh design thinking, whether because of the site or program. In the end, I suppose, it’s what all relatively mature architects do, whether they theorize about it or not. The larger lesson from Tehrani is to be more self-conscious about ongoing design preoccupations. William Saunders, the former editor of Harvard Design Magazine, once told me that a “theoretical architect” is nothing more than an architect that is intellectually self-aware about one’s ongoing work. -Tim

(Update: Nader Tehrani responds to Tim’s comments.)

Typological Mash Up

nebraska-capitol post card with lights

Bertrand Goodhue’s Nebraska State Capitol is a typological tour de force that combines a Beaux Arts four courtyard plan with a dome-topped tower that deploys the most up-to-date compositional and syntactical strategies for skyscraper design. What was unique about the project was the way that it transformed what had been conceived as an urban building type – famously sculpted by Hugh Ferriss to allow sunlight to penetrate to Manhattan’s streets – into a uniquely American civic expression. The resulting free-standing ensemble has both the paradigmatic clarity and sense of ritual of Fischer von Erlach’s reconstructions of the important building complexes of Antiquity, including the walled compound of Diocletian’s Palace in Split and the Porcelain Tower of Nanking (Plan of Civil and Historical Architecture, 1721).


Diocletian’s Palace, Fischer von Erlach

The Porcelain Tower of Nanking, Fischer von Erlach

Like the projects from Antiquity, the Nebraska State Capitol is surrounded by massive walls with ceremonial gates and has a symbolic monument on the interior that is highly visible on the skyline.



Theorizing Construction Phasing

Bertrand Goodhue's State Capitol in Lincoln, Nebraska

Bertrand Goodhue’s Nebraska State Capitol in Lincoln, Nebraska

While in Lincoln, Nebraska recently, I visited the Bertrand Goodhue-designed Nebraska State Capitol (a typological tour de force). I learned, while reading the historical information in the ramshackle exhibit* in the lower lobby, that the design of the building was mostly influenced by the need to keep the existing – and more conventional – capitol building operational while the first phase of the new building was constructed. Rather than build the new capitol near or next to the existing building, two opposing arms of Goodhues project were built around the existing structure.

The north and south wings of Goodhue's Nebraska State Capitol embracing the existing capitol building, circa 1924

The north and south wings of Goodhue’s Nebraska State Capitol embracing the existing capitol building, circa 1924

This audacious strategy was both an act of conceptual hubris and highly deferential to the quasi-sacred ground of Nebraska’s government. I suppose it also made the move from the old capitol to the new wings of Goodhues’ building relatively affordable.

Phases of capitol construction

*Note to the Architect of the Capitol – Utile would love to redesign the exhibit.


Tangible Space

While in Austin, TX recently, we stumbled across an exhibition of Korean artist Do Ho Suh at the Austin Contemporary that renders everyday domestic appliances, fixtures, and entire apartments in finely-woven color polyester fabric. Their particular ghostly quality results from the high level of detail that can be rendered with stitching and the way that the fabric both objectives space, as if liberated from a mold, and allows for a view of interior spaces through the translucent material.

The pleasure of Apartment A, Unit 2, Corridor and Staircase, 348 West 22nd Street, New York, New York, 10011, USA partly results from the way that a gallery-goer’s experience unfolds over time. Visitors first see the negative spaces as translucent glowing objects, the color of gummy bears, and then enter the apartment and marvel at the same both-inside-and-outside experience at a smaller scale. The consequence of this experience, enhanced by the everyday ordinariness of the apartment and objects being rendered, is the sense that figurative architectonic space permeates every object, molding, and electrical device.

The installation conjures up the installations of Rachel Whiteread, winner of Britian’s annual Turner Prize in 1993. In Whiteread’s House from the same year, the concrete cast of a Victorian row house represent the banality of domesticity in a new light. Like Suh’s installation, the rendition of the negative spaces of windows and fireplaces as protrusions make domestic space corporeal.

Do Suh’s installation seems to be a direct commentary on Whiteread’s work, but where her negative space is an impenetrable and almost colorless solid, Suh provides both a view into the warmly glowing objects and an opportunity to explore them again, but transformed by their uncanny materiality. Both Suh and Whiteread point to a pre-1990s preoccupation of architectural theory: the description and analysis of figurative architectonic space. Discredited as retrograde by theorists focused on the broader dismantling of Post Modernism (of which the recovery of pre-Modern figurative space was a major goal), an interest in “space” may be due for a comeback.

Bramante’s 1505 plan for St. Peters demonstrates the power of conceiving of architectonic space as a subtractive operation. The square-configured ambulatory that surrounds the center dome-space appears to have been tunneled out of solid matter, given the residual shape of the pier/walls that remain. Likewise, the attenuated transepts, shaped like ghosts of hot dogs, disrupt the spatial legibility of the central space in ways that pre-figure Mannerist sensibilities. At a finer-grain, the reciprocal relationship between niches across secondary threshold spaces, continue the theme of intersecting figurative voids. It’s as if Bramante’s plan was conceived as a full-scale mold for nested figurative spaces.


Luigi Moretti, an important post-War Italian architectural theorest and architect (Il Girasole in Rome, circa 1950, is his most important work), made a series of plaster casts of seminal Italian Renaissance buildings to support his theory of interior space, as articulated in Spazio, an Italian journal. In his essay “Strutture sequenze di spazi” published in Spazio 7 (December 1952-April 1953), Moretti makes a claim for the supremacy of figurative space in architecture. “There is however an expressive aspect that summarizes the fact of architecture and that can be assumed even in isolation, with more ease than others. I allude to the interior space and void of architecture.”

Like Rachel Whiteread’s casts, plaster provided Moretti with a medium to create corporeal representations of figurative space. Plaster, however, does not allow for the depiction of the interpenetration of spaces at a range of scales. Perhaps models of the same spaces rendered in color polyester fabric would allow for a more nuanced representation of the orchestrated spatial effects that Bramante and his progeny were able to wrest out of solid matter.


Utility of Play



Creative people are curious, flexible, persistent, and independent with a tremendous spirit of adventure and a love of play.

Henri Matisse, French painter, 1869–1954

Two weeks ago, Bostonians swarmed the Lawn on D Street (an ongoing Utile planning project, in partnership with Sasaki and the HR&A). What has attracted this crowd? The opening of Swing Time, an installation of twenty LED-illuminated hanging swings designed by Howeler + Yoon. The swings, described as an “interactive playscape,” glowed a soft white as the mix of yuppies, neighbors, and families channeled their inner child, eagerly waiting for their turn to reclaim a piece of their youth. When at last the swinging began, the white glow turned a bright purple, a transformation that recalled a more sci-fi vibe than traditional playground scene.

Both within the community and among designers, the project has been considered a smashing success. The phenomenon is attributed, not to traditional design criteria, but to a conception driven by innovative programming and social interaction (not to mention, social media). The wide appeal and enthusiastic approval leave us wondering how we might promote more play within the public domain. How might our communities change if playful programming were more prioritized in urban design?


Terminology of Play

There is no shortage of terminology used to describe program-centric and playful urban spaces. “Urban play”, “interactive playscape”, “urban playground”, and “community laboratory” are just a sample of the trendy word mash-ups tossed around. While these definitions have distinctions, their meanings find overlap. Urban play typologies can be loosely grouped into three programmatic categories.

 recreate + exercise     |     create + express     |     observe + lounge

This framework includes programs ranging from public fountains to free speech walls to ergonomic furniture.

Another distinction worth classification is between dynamic and static design. Dynamic designs have the physical capacity to move/change/respond to an interaction and may utilize mechanisms and/or technology. Static designs, though not mechanized in any way, encourage and set up an environment for people to engage or interact with the design or each other.


Free Speech Wall in Charlottesville, VA

History of Play

While this approach seems to be a relatively recent phenomenon in US cities, it has evolved naturally out of not-so-spontaneous cultural shifts and political movements (find out more here). Early stages of this eventual design genre are more entwined with political activism than architectural experimentation. Though there are many histories leading up to our current moment, let a take a closer look at our first category, recreate/exercise, via the playground.

Playground Timeline

 Play around the World

Playful urban attitudes are found all over the world. These range from playgrounds made of yarn in Japan to interactive public art in Amsterdam to exercise-inspired urban furniture in Rome.

Boston Plays

In the past ten years, Boston has embraced a variety of permanent and temporary interactive urban design projects.

Play Appeal

Apart from political and design agendas, what is the present appeal to playful urban design? Is it just for the kids, or is there something about these places that draws diverse audiences?

Consider this: as design focus shifts from a singular, optimized, and permanent design culmination, to design with a plethora of possibilities for permutation, of either the physical space or of the person(s) within the space, the results are much less predictable. Rather than design that responds to a synchronic slice in time [certain audience, cultural moment, and design aesthetic], urban play spaces have, built into their conception, an intentional adaptability. These spaces do not deny change, but instead have productively exploited the inevitability of change. Furthermore, increasing interest within design circles to explore scripting and parametric software points to design that dynamically responds to and/or optimizes a result within set “parameters.” Combining the power of technology with building and construction innovation opens up opportunities to utilize mechanisms that respond to user-interaction or external phenomena.


Jason Bruges designed the project ‘wind to light,’ composed of 500 miniature wind turbines powering LED modules.


We like this idea of options. With options we gain the power to effect change, no matter how small or insignificant, in our community. This goes back to the idea that designers refer to as place-making. We want to make place, identify with, belong to, and have meaning within our community. This empowerment has proven to have positive relationship to a community’s health. There is a correlation between an individual’s perception of having influence and the vibrancy of the community. When citizens are given a way to engage their environment, through artistic expression, political change, or other means, the community is healthier and happier.


Stefan Sagmeister’s design of 350,000 euro cent coins in Amsterdam.

Play Palette

Of course, even adaptive spaces incorporate constraint. The designer, to a degree, has power to direct and bias certain interactions through careful curation of the palette of alteration. These biases, though, are design, and are also likely born out of shared cultural values and expectations. Public spaces can be a mirror, or thermometer, of a cultural climate, with potential both positive, to foster a healthy community, and negative, to politically oppress. In the US today, where a premium is placed on individual autonomy and freedom, urban play spaces reflect this value. The Swing Time project exemplifies a cultural primacy on the individual through the freedom to choose his/her swing, and offered the specificity of three custom sizes. In this way, even adaptable spaces might have an element of cultural life-span.

Play of the Future

“Humanity has advanced, when it has advanced, not because it has been sober, responsible, and cautious, but because it has been playful, rebellious, and immature.”

 –Tom Robbins

From the highly technical responsive mechanisms to carefully curated static spaces, innovation and proliferation of urban play typology suggests that designers are only limited by their imaginative capacities.

As with every design movement, though, there are a whole host of new (and old) critiques. Among these are concerns of waste, safety, and maintenance. Maintenance discussions are nothing novel, but some of these interactive spaces are targeted to a greater degree. Fog machines and moveable parts are not always cost-effective or maintenance-friendly. Furthermore, it is easy to imagine the safety concerns people might have with water, electricity, and boulders designed for jumping. These concerns, though valid and to be thoughtfully engaged, are simply an addendum to the already long list of “constraints.” As adults, we still have fun playing, but we also know that no design in the real world comes without its challenges. That’s the catch-22 of design: there is no fun without a challenge. Here at Utile, we’ll take the challenge to make our work = play.


Take Back The Poles

When the “E” line branch of Boston’s Green Line trolley was “temporarily suspended” through Jamaica Plain in 1985 (and never to return), the closure left a procession of abandoned overhead wire support poles. These poles still stand today, slowly rusting away and stretching from Forest Hills to the current “E” branch terminus on South Huntington at Heath Street. With the removal of the poles lingering for years on the MBTA capital budget without a source of funding, it might be time to embrace them as a canvas for guerrilla art and DIY neighborhood improvement.

Each pole could be painted a different color like an extended Paul Smith stripe color scheme. Or they could be wrapped in rope or clad in wood a la Aalto. Or how about yarnbombing a few hundred knit cozies? The possibilities are endless…


The Smokers’ Lounge as a Building Type

Just as the smokers’ lounge is about to go the way of the passenger pigeon because of the twin influences of public health campaigns and electronic cigarettes, the function has emerged as a bona fide building type. The elegant example below by ASK Studio – located in Des Moines and hot-off-the-presses from the Architects’ Newspaper – takes on the problem seriously and without any hidden moral agenda. As ASK principal Brian Schipper says in the article: “A shelter for smokers may seem a counter-intuitive undertaking, but it is there for safety and to make a better aesthetic for the community.” Cary Bernstein, one juror of the Residential Design awards program, innocently captured the unspoken contradictions of the project. “It’s the sort of structure that has the feel of a private clubhouse for the tobacco-initiated, it makes you want to smoke so you can be in it.”

Iowa smokers lounge

The project stands in marked contrast to a richly evocative vernacular version that I photographed at the back of the Boston Globe headquarters on Wednesday. One can (literally) still smell a group of cub reporters huddled under the canopy and out of the rain while taking a break from the day’s deadline.

Globe smokers lounge

Of course, this scene – and the building type – had a very short lifespan as far of “urban programs” go: from the early 1990s until the completion of the last known example in Des Moines. Like the last passenger pigeon in the Cincinnati Zoo, we should reflect on the lessons of the last smokers’ lounge while it still exists. After it’s gone, we can only look back with smugness and superiority about how we once acted as a species.