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8 entries from October 2007

October 31, 2007

Recent fallen, floating and flying architecture

Today's brief round up of temporary or transient architecture:

Filed under 'accidental', 'deconstructivism', 'inadvertent installations' and 'looking like a Coop-Himmelb(l)au building', some wonderfully collapsed scaffolding in Melbourne (cnr. of Collins and Elizabeth). Apparently news of the splintered short-term structure flew around Melbourne's architectural community last week. [As heard about on Triple R's excellent show 'The Architects', and images via the show's Rory. Last week's show also featuring a cracking chat with Louis Sauer, by the way.]

Coop_melbourne2

Coop_melbourne

And filed under 'unbuilt', 'branded buildings', 'you've probably already seen it' and 'unlikely bedfellows', Zaha Hadid's transient gallery for installation art, for Chanel's art director Karl Lagerfeld. "The container will travel from Hong Kong to Tokyo, New York, Los Angeles, London, Moscow and Paris over the course of two years." [Seen on Archinect, Wallpaper*, and NYT + video]

Hadidlagerfeld2

Hadidlagerfeld1

Filed under 'megastructures', 'floating buildings', 'luxury space' and 'wet', Renzo Piano's floating building - OK, a P&O superliner - called the 'Pacific Dawn'. (With 165 more staterooms than the biggest hotel in Australia etc etc. The exterior is far more appearling than the interior, though.) To be launched in Sydney Harbour on November 8th and setting sail next year.

Pacificdawn

Finally, filed under 'airborne buildings', 'megastructures' and 'late', the A380 flew into Sydney this week on its first commercial flight, after a brief pit-stop in Melbourne earlier this month. These first planes are operated by Singapore Airlines, out of Chang Airport.

A380_landing_melbourne

A380_melbourne

October 30, 2007

The city as destructive system: wildfires, Dresden and the case against urban sprawl

Dresden 1945

Since I wrote about the first glimpse of the bushfire season here in Sydney a few weeks ago, attention has switched to the south-west of the USA, where devastating wildfires continue to burn across California. While bushfires or wildfires have been a part of both areas since time immemorial (see also France, Portugal, South Africa, Greece, the Balkans, etc.) there seems little doubt that the drought attributed to climate change is exacerbating the situation. So fires both get worse and more widespread.

By chance I also happened to recently read an astonishing, sobering article on the bombings of Dresden and Hiroshima in the Second World War, entitled 'The Mongol devastations', by Jörg Friedrich. (Originally publishd in Die Welt, on 10 February, 2005, it's hugely enlightening on this horrific, unnecessarily brutal end to the war, amidst the post-war carve-up of Europe and Asia, suggesting that the bombing by the British and Americans was essentially just a strategic show of strength to the Russians - "the demonstration of a capacity" - using already-defeated Germany and Japan as no more than a token.)

Dresden in ruins

In the aftermath of the Dresden firebombing

Friedrich's article, when taken with images of the wildfires in California, and those around Australian cities in recent years, gave me pause to consider how urban form and fire are related. I don't want to use the terrible fires around California, and in Australia before them, as my own spurious token in an academic argument about urban planning. And yet I can't help but correlate urban sprawl with placing more and more people into areas consistently threatened by fire. In this, the contemporary form of the sprawling city is not only something that is bad for the city in general - you could argue that point of course, but I don't think it can really be doubted  - but also just supremely dangerous.

Rancho Bernardo, San Diego County

Rancho Bernardo, San Diego County

We're now seeing deaths, upheaval of communities, destruction of property and vast economic losses. And this is to do with the form of the city,

In Friedrich's words, in their numbing horror, we see that urban form itself, as well as the motivation of bombers, either encouraged or discouraged the flames of late-World War 2. He describes the malevolent science of firebombing developed by the allies as they studied the effects of fire on various cities. These designers - why not use that word? - attempted to create more efficient city-destroying systems. In effect, they were a form of urban planner, yet looking at the landscape, structure and fabric of the city in order to destroy rather than create. Friedrich makes clear it was planning, rational enquiry and product development, with strategists asking questions such as "How could similar death zones be made to be safer, more manageable, more cost-effective and larger?" and describing the race to the atom bomb as "the most formidable development project of all time". (Disconcertingly, you can almost perceive this stance on the RAF Bomber Command's website, in the grimly satisfied terms deployed to describe their bombing of Dresden, which they still claim to have been of military importance, running against Friedrich's well-researched counterpoint.)

The firebombing of Dresden

A lengthy quotation from Friedrich's article:

"The fire bombing of Hamburg killed 45,000 people overnight, more than the Luftwaffe had achieved in nine months of dropping bombs on England. Only eight weeks earlier,the fire in Wuppertal had resulted in 3,000 deaths, an unprecedented figure until then."

"The fire in Wuppertal burnt in the air circulation pattern particular to enclosed river valleys. In Hamburg it was the dry summer heat; in Heilbronn, Dresden and Pforzheim it was winter snow. Tokyo was built almost entirely of wood and paper, Darmstadt of sandstone, Munster of brick. Hildesheim and Halberstadt were criss-crossed by narrow streets lined with half-timbered houses, Mannheim was divided into classic quadrants, Dortmund and Duisburg were made up of sprawling 19th century blocks. The thermonuclear planners delved into the fund of knowledge left by the area bombing of the Axis powers. This was the only way to understand how individual cities burn."

"The historic fires in San Francisco, Hamburg and London had nothing in common with the procedure whereby in only 17 minutes (Würzburg) or 21 minutes (Dresden), cities were showered with hundreds of thousands of incendiary bombs. These sparked thousands of fires, which within three hours became a flaming sea, several square kilometres wide. Large natural fires normally have a single source, and are driven for days by the wind. But war statistics showed that such winds played a minor role in fires caused by bombs. The real destructive power was not in the wind that drives the fire, but in the fire itself, which unleashes its own hurricane on the ground."

"Neither buildings nor people can escape the logic of the elements of fire and air. A fire starts, it sets the air in motion, fire and air form a vortex extinguishing life and all that belongs to it: books, altars, hospitals, asylums, jails and jailers, the block warden and his child, the armourers, the people's court and all the people in it, the slave's barracks and the Jew's hideout, the strangler as well as the strangled. Hiroshima and Dresden, Tokyo and Kassel were transformed from cities into destructive systems. The agent of change is the bomb war, and the bomb war is its construction site."

Of course, the 'motives' behind the wildfires and bushfires - save for cases of arson - are entirely different, being the result of systemic interactions between wind, climate and terrain. Yet this is a dynamic system and at least one of those variables has been actively altered by humankind, and by city dwellers most of all. Developing Friedrichs' notion - that cities can become destructive systems - can we see that the form of the contemporary sprawl city, 65 years later, might be becoming a new kind of destructive system?

Map of fire damage in Dresden

Map of fire surrounding San Diego

Satellite image of California on fire

If the early-20th century urban forms of Hamburg, Tokyo, and Dresden set up their own destruction under the extreme conditions of their time - a bomb war, in that case - the new urban form of Sydney and San Diego in the early-21st century might also be setting up destructive systems, inadvertently unleashing a similar firestorm but at the edges of the sprawling city. In both cases, the combination of urban form introduced to a new agent of change results in the hurricane of fire: in the Second World War, firebombing destroys cities, flames sweeping from the centre out. In the 21st century, the rising temperatures create tinder-dry conditions in the bush and fire attacks the city from the edges inwards, edges that have begun to extend well into dangerous territory.

Harris Fire Mount Miguel

San Diego skyline under smoke

Santa Clarita, California

Santiago

In The Economist's recent piece on the wildfires, Joel Kotkin all but suggests that cities are over-extending their reach:

"Recent (fires) have caused more damage than those 30 years ago, because the population has grown and many more Californians have moved out of city centres and built big homes surrounded by foliage. “In more remote areas, you're more susceptible to fire,” argues Mr Kotkin, “and nature still has a lot of power.”

Similarly, an excellent recent documentary on bushfires on Australia's ABC Radio National makes a similar point about the "urban interface" and its new proximity to bushfires:

"The cities are sprawling outwards, into bushland, and closer to national parks. In Melbourne, it's the hills around the city; in Sydney it's the northern and southern suburbs and the Blue Mountains area. The edges of Adelaide, Brisbane, Perth and Hobart are all places where the city now meets the bush head-on."

In the same programme, Naomi Brown, CEO of the Australasian Fire Authorities Council, sounds frustrated that people don't see this "bigger picture" of urban development's role in recent bushfires around Australian cities:

"They very rarely have the ability or the inclination to take a few steps back and look at the really big picture on what actually led up to these fires, what's happening with land management ... You know, why is the vegetation doing what it's doing, what is happening with land planning. You know why are structures and developments where they are. You very rarely get that big look at what the total picture is"

Ross Bradstock, Head of the University of Woolongong's Centre for Environmental Risk Management:

"You know, there's hard decisions to make because real estate is valuable, and people value their lifestyles and all those sorts of things. And to some degree you know, you can't have your cake and eat it. People can't live right in the bush, and expect to enjoy low risk of damage to their property. So there's always going to be hard choices to make about the way development is managed in the future"

I recall Barista's post of last year, describing how those fires affected Melbourne:

"Now Melbourne - ultra-sophisticated, urban, discursive, computerised, air-conditioned, internationalised - carries an elemental haze of smoke. I walk the dog on beaches that smell of hydrogen sulphide and ash. My partner Susie reaches fretfully for her athsma inhaler"

The site for ABC's Background Briefing has a series of images of new habitation in and around the Ku-rin-gai National Park north of Sydney, such as this street, sitting just below the fire-blackened trees on the skyline.

Street near bush, Ku-rin-gai

I'm currently reading David Peace's shattering new novel Tokyo Year Zero, which is set in the almost mortally-wounded Tokyo of 1946. The sense of the city in ruins, physically and psychologically, has rarely been rendered more evocatively - Tokyo is utterly defeated, on its knees - yet each image also implicitly prompts you to consider how Tokyo responded, building one of the most advanced, civilised and affluent cities of our time.

The firebombing of Tokyo

The Tokyo skyline earlier this year

It is possible to calibrate the symbiotic relationship between cities and cultures - indeed, it's manipulating cities through the legislation of property development that has led to sprawl. What's more complex here, as with much these days, is that the imagery and problem is not rendered in sharp black-and-white contrast - a burnt-out Dresden or Tokyo - but is more amorphous, dynamically distributed and insidious. The sense of a few cities glowing at their edges, with a complex set of underlying causes, does not in itself provide enough traction for change. (Note Bryan Finoki's recent reportage from Flint, Michigan, a city largely in an advanced stage of decay, caught in the wake of contemporary economic development and struggling to respond. This slow demise may prove fatal, as opposed to the quick double-tap incapacitation of firebombing. Ironically, if the causal factors are apparently difficult to perceive until it's almost too late, the resolution of imagery has increased such that we can see the effects of these changes almost as vividly as those images of Dresden and Tokyo, and certainly from more angles; see the maps of CNN or Wikipedia. A form of City Informational Modeling - a derivation of BIM - may enable us to see - the changing city in real-time.)

So without undergoing world war, without the bomb as an "agent of change", we seem to have still developed the conditions for burning cities, through little more than avarice and a culture of individualism. It's not a time for pointing the finger at individuals suffering terrible upheaval and dealing with huge personal loss. It is a time, however, to look at the patterns of urban development - and the wider political context - that created this situation, with the fringes of metro areas the fastest growing parts of the USA and Australia. Not just enabling cities to sprawl but subsidising and encouraging them to do so, as Dolores Hayden suggests. In the context of accelerating a climate change, it has only increased the likelihood of bushfires in inhabited areas. This careless combination has already proved deadly in Australia and California.

Burnt-out housing in southern California

The only good that could come from these ongoing reports at the singed urban interface would be an increased impetus to reverse both these trends and focus on re-building the high-density city, diminishing the need for a sprawl of over-large detached houses with their associated environmental cost, and thus remaining easily defensible against these natural fires.

The cities described by Friedrich were old European or Asian forms and, frankly, didn't stand a chance:

"... There were cities like Berlin that did not work right. The width of the streets, the firewalls, the abundance of greenery and canals opposed the fire-injections and responded wrong. But Dresden's narrow streets, decorative old town and wooden buildings fed the fires according to plan. The carefully selected triangle between the Ostragehege park and the main railway station functioned as a "fire-raiser". The old cities, bent with age, testimonies to the distant past, were best suited to such attacks. Freiburg, Heilbronn, Trier, Mainz, Nuremberg, Paderborn, Hildesheim, Halberstadt, Würzburg: this avenue of German history shared the lot of Dresden in these months. For the allied fire bomb strategists, the study of their material composition was a science in itself."

But San Diego and Sydney are new cities - New World cities, even - and if urban progress is to mean anything, they shouldn't really be on fire. The "study of their material composition" doesn't need to be that forensic for us to realise it's not scalable to sprawl. Taking a reductionist approach, as if we were allied scientists attempting to come up with a formula for destroying new cities, you might conclude:

urban sprawl + climate change =  destructive fires

October 29, 2007

Honda Puyo

Puyo3
I love this Honda Puyo concept car, just exhibited at the Tokyo Motor Show. Not least for its looks, its clear orientation towards high-density urban living - it can spin 360 degrees to park - plus the now obligatory 'green' credentials of electric motors and hydrogen fuel cell, but mainly because of two ongoing obsessions: sensory and behavioural aspects of the design.

Firstly, the car's roof explores tactility (as well as safety). According to Honda, "PUYO is a Japanese onomatopoeia that expresses the sensation of touching the vehicle's soft body.":

"The body of the Puyo is not traditional metal but a soft gel designed to look and feel like human or animal skin. As well as the marketing appeal of a such a radical finish, the soft exterior delivers improved safety performance, especially when it comes to pedestrian protection, something Honda leads the world on."

Puyo4
And secondly, the car's exterior has behaviour, in line with its conditions:

"The Puyo’s body can also glow various colours to change its look and – depending on how you view it – its personality. Honda says the changing colours alert owners to the condition of the vehicle, “facilitating a more intimate relationship between people and their cars”."

Puyo1

(It might enable the car to daub its own 'CLEAN ME' graffiti, perhaps.) This capability reminds me of Herzog & De Meuron's Allianz Arena, of course, but also Brian Eno's idea for re-equipping cars horns with a suite of aural motifs designed to communicate various messages - or provide a greater range of expression - to other drivers and pedestrians. The Puyo's visual approach may be quieter if no more discreet, but I do like the idea of the car communicating its state and behaviour with subtlety. It might have been more interesting to connect these two approaches and communicate state through tactility as well as visual feedback. I'd love to hear more detail of the various parameters involved, and associated interfaces (given that changing the exterior colour of the car will be of negligible use to the driver inside, leading to possible later confusion.)

Toyota also had a concept car - the RiN - on show, which approached mood and behaviour, though with rather less insight:

"The RiN uses sensors to monitor the driver’s mental state. The futuristic concept can determine if the driver is flustered or calm and display the results on its modern dashboard."

Though if you need a car to tell you how you feel, I suspect you're beyond help.

Honda Puyo wants to be loved [Drive.com.au]
Honda Puyo concept [Autoblog]
Early look: Honda's Puyo concept [Leftlanenews]
See also: Frankfurt Motor Show [Monocle]

A few more images of the Puyo below:

Continue reading "Honda Puyo" »

October 24, 2007

Unfolding house with vertical garden

In thrall as I am to the idea of buildings that move, transform, alter their shape or composition, I was drawn to this fantastical sketch in the latest issue of rather enjoyable Australian architecture magazine Monument (#81, Oct/Nov 2007). It's not actually a moving building - just a building inspired by sense that it might be able to reorganise its constituent parts to fit its context.

The magazine briefly mentions Mulloway Studio's three-storey residence, designed for the tight, post-industrial environment of Port Adelaide (which was evocatively dubbed Port Misery by the first European settlers, by the way). It's a complex little structure, comprising its own mixed-use microcosm of commercial tenancies, public space and residential space above, but also attempting to play with the idea of the Australian home - the sketch even has a Hills Hoist. The brick, drawn from the historic warehouses of the local surrounds (and their European forebears), is appealing, as is the fact that it's urban, mixed-use and medium- to high-density. (This issue of Monument focuses on residences and shares some of the issues I explored in the recent A+U on the same theme, but is far more balanced in terms of urban developments and shared spaces.)

Leaving these qualities aside though, I was drawn to the little sketch accompanying the text, perhaps indicating how the architects had arrived at the idea of the vertical garden. They'd drawn a suggestive fantasy involving the entire front section of the house being slipped off its 'hinges', with the back garden hoisted up into the air, replaced and propped to enable increased density. Monument describes this last section thus:

"An east-facing perforated brick screen reinterprets the suburban garden as a vertical plane that mediates and filters light and air, maximising cross-ventilation and illumination."

Forgive the hasty reproduction, but here's my sketch of their sketch.


Mulloway_verticalgarden


Mulloway Studio
Monument magazine

October 09, 2007

The first architects

From cover of Gunyah, Goondie and Wurley

For someone who has spent most of his career fusing what might be called 'the sharpish end of information technology' to other things, I've paradoxically retained an interest in vernacular architecture and design, which often deploys ancient solutions, refined by age, use and experience. (It's not actually a paradox, of course).

Here in Australia, a relatively new country if a very old inhabited continent, there are rich pickings amidst complex histories. Particular favourites are the Queenslander house seen in Brisbane - more notes on this later - but also the various architectural strategies and solutions employed by indigenous Australians. This is partly due to the nomadic lifestyle of some Aborigines - and therefore related to other transient, portable architecture I'm interested in - and partly due to the inherently ingenious solutions for dealing with Australia's climate and terrain. Recent research has exposed the idea that 'Aborigines didn't build' as essentially a deliberate and expedient strategy, conjured up to ensure that Australia could be seen, legally, as terra nullis (empty land) - and therefore ripe for claiming, clearing and settling. There were numerous kinds of building structures, as varied as their social structures and Australia's climate.

Aboriginal_village

A new book out - Gunyah, Goondie and Wurley, by Paul Memmott, an anthropologist at the University of Queensland's Aboriginal Environments Research Centre - details the various architecture and design methods that existed before European occupation.

The Sydney Morning Herald has a short article on the book, the architecture, and its sorry obliteration:

"There was a whole range of different shelters built in different styles depending on climate and social factors," Associate Professor Memmott, who compiled the book over 35 years, said. "There is clear evidence of complex spatial organisation and design based on social rules and structures. It's additional evidence that the Aboriginal lifestyles were well-organised, which unfortunately still comes as a surprise to people."

"Among the most striking designs featured in the book are dome houses that existed in the rainforests of tropical Queensland and northern NSW. The houses were interconnected, allowing clans to interact, and were high enough to stand in, so that the inhabitants could spend extended periods indoors during the wet season. "Winter houses" built around Port Jackson and Warringah in Sydney by the Gai-mariagal people were made using hardwood beams, clay, reeds and animal hides."

The co-chairwoman of Reconciliation Australia, Jackie Huggins, praised the book for debunking the stereotype of Aborigines being part of a primitive age. "Aboriginal people were among the first architects in the world in terms of ingenuity in providing shelter and accommodation," Ms Huggins said. [Sydney Morning Herald, 9 October 2007]

Dome hut clad with blady grass that has been attached to the frame with lawyer cane. It was constructed in the North-east Rainforest Region near the Tully River between 1893 and 1910

It looks fascinating, and I'm off to purchase asap. More to follow, I suspect.

Gunyah, Goondie & Wurley: The Aboriginal Architecture of Australia [Amazon.com | Penguin Australia | Univ. of Queensland]

October 04, 2007

Lebbeus Woods dot net

Lebbeuswoodsdotnet

A quick note to redirect your attention towards the Lebbeus Woods website, and associated weblog, which emerged yesterday. Do make sure you also check Geoff Manaugh's excellent interview with Woods too.

Meeting Woods earlier this year was a great honour, and noticing a little flurry of referrals from a certain 'lebbeuswoods.net' to my corresponding write-up ... well, likewise. He's one of the few architects - or designers in general - truly worthy of the description 'visionary' (as much as he might bit irritated by that). The site is chock full of sketches, photographs and words, which really deserve a couple of days set aside just to begin to take in. It's clearly in the early stages of development but I'm happy it exists at all, and with many projects covered, there's enough food for thought to last years. That he has started a weblog, with an opening entry on 'outsider architecture', is perhaps just as interesting.

He launches the site with a veritable call-to-arms, echoing reasons he gave for making the time for our Postopolis! event - that he saw the web as an increasingly relevant platform for new thinking and discussion about architecture, including the publishing of new works:

"Unlike the past decades, the present moment is lacking in architectural discourse, generally. In particular, there is an absence of criticism of works and ideas, except in terms of efficacy, and that - at a time of critical changes of every kind - is not good enough."

Lebbeus Woods site and weblog
Postopolis!: Lebbeus Woods
Without Walls: An Interview with Lebbeus Woods [BLDGBLOG]
Lebbeus Woods [Wikipedia]

October 03, 2007

Apocalypse Sydney

Sydney Morning Herald

With a banner section depicting a West Coast drug culture, and Radiohead apparently dismantling the music industry by giving away their next album, it is indeed a truly apocalyptic edition of the Sydney Morning Herald today. But the apocalypse headline refers to something genuinely disturbing - the findings from a report issued yesterday, with the misleadingly plain title 'Climate Change in Australia'. The SMH expands on its headline of 'Hot, parched and sinking - apocalypse Sydney' in the first couple of paras:

"SYDNEY faces a temperature rise of up to 4.3 degrees by 2070, and a tripling of the number of days a year when the thermometer soars above 35 degrees, if global greenhouse gas emissions are not cut deeply, a report warns. But it is already too late for the city to avoid a warming of about 1 degree by 2030 as well as a 3 per cent reduction in annual rainfall because of polluting gases present in the atmosphere." [Sydney Morning Herald, 3 October 2007]

When I started writing this piece, I was sitting on a park bench in the shade, no more than 2 metres from the thin strip of sand that comprises the beach at Sydney's Double Bay. The sparkling water of the harbour eased out in front of me, shifting through translucent green and turquoise into a deep blue 50 metres away, where small boats were moored, gently rocking in the water. Further out, dozens of sleek boats were gliding easily through Port Jackson, returning from the ocean. Wednesday is race day. To my left, the ridiculously expensive apartments of Double Bay (aka Double Pay), basking on the hillside leaning back from the water. And it was very hot, yes, but a quick paddle in the cold water reassured me it was still officially spring. Sydney seemed as far away from an apocalypse as you could get.

My position earlier today

But today also sees the city beginning to be encircled by numerous bushfires, whipped up by the high winds from the interior desert - winds that will approach gale force in the next few hours - combined with the heat and low humidity. It's 34 degrees and climbing. Having grown up on a crowded lump of rock in the North Atlantic, artificially warmed by the gulfstream (though not for much longer) but relatively close to the lower edges of Arctic circle, this heat is bewildering, enjoyable and slightly fearful, all at once. I like the heat, personally, but I also understand what it means, and that this amount of heat at this time of the year - set to be the hottest on record - does not auger well in the long run.

Bushfire image from SMH today

The experience of heat itself is difficult to write about - hence the papers resorting to apocalyptic images of the sea levels rising or helicopters water bombing bushfires near Oxford Falls in Sydney's north. "It's going to be a busy day," a Rural Fire Service (RFS) spokesman said this morning. By the afternoon commuter highways from Sydney to Newcastle had been closed for safety reasons as several fires roared through the state. My taxi driver grimaced and said, "It's just a tinderbox out there".

It reminds me somewhat of the opening piece in Justin O'Connor's Shanghai Diary a few years ago, writing from a position of 36 degrees in the shade. But the threat of these fires is something else.

Peter Carey's 30 Days in Sydney is a fabulous little book on the city in general, but in a memorable passage he depicts the horror of the burning city, from a very personal perspective of chucking buckets of water around a house being approached by flames. (He also cross-references this with the ancient indigenous practice of firestick farming.) To me, coming from London, a city on fire means two things: the Great Fire or the Blitz, and both are resolutely entombed in history rather than lived experience. Here, a city on fire is a possibility, and a reality if you live on the sprawling outer fringes. These, incidentally, are the outer fringes where it is imagined that most of Sydney's projected population growth will live.

But the apocalyptic image of a cleansing fire is perhaps what we need to grab people's attention right now. Australia's Chief Scientist, Jim Peacock, said it would be a "ghastly situation" for the country if temperatures rise as the report forecasts:

"We need urgent action right now," Dr Peacock said. He suggested making what he termed "an heirloom quilt" to patch together a range of strategies. These would include bio-sequestration - the storing carbon in trees, grass and shrubs. He also suggested taking another look at setting up nuclear power in Australia and using clean coal technology. However, he said neither could be online in this country for at least 10 to 15 years."

But haven't we heard this before? Did you switch off in the previous paragraph or not? The projections to 2070 are problematic as a) they're so far off as to be refutable, and b) beyond many people's lifetimes. Personally, I'll be dead, but I'm aware of the importance of "urgent action right now", even if I also struggle with the daily shifts in behaviour required. I'm more interested in the tactics and programmes required to shift habitual behaviour on a massive scale, and I'm collecting a few examples of how Australian city and state governments are providing information about climate change to citizens. There are some creative, imaginative tactics, as noted here before, as well as some rather less-thought-through frustrations as to 'why can't people just change'. But there's clearly more to do, across a huge number of areas.

I don't think rattling on about sustainability is enough - or rather, that might be barking up the wrong tree. Architect Glenn Murcutt sounded almost bewildered by it in that recent issue of A+U:

"While it seems to be a very new thing in our profession, I just sit and smile. I have been working with this since I started my practice in 1969 ... As we're in a temperate climate in Sydney, this house and office, designed and shared with Wendy Lewin is not heated nor air-conditioned. We rely on opening the windows and doors during the warmer months to receive the air while in winter we close them and put on more clothes."

I love that. The simplicity of living sustainably is such that it shouldn't need the threat of an ensuing apocalypse to become a desirable way to live.

Melbourne-based architect Andrew Maynard, in a recent issue of POL Oxygen: "We dismiss sustainability as a theme. It is simply the right way to do things." That's a far better way of thinking about it, and also negates the argument that Peacock refers to - why should Australians change when they contribute only 1% of global emissions? Because it's just the right thing to do.

But Murcutt's jumpers and 'doing the right thing' doesn't seem to have an urgent tone about it either. And although it is that simple, and it is simply a question of living in a civic fashion and designing and building in the right way, the population at large still doesn't get it. In that SMH article, it continues, "Addressing the 700 assembled scientists, Dr Tim Flannery said: "We need urgent action." Science would drive the agenda on how to address climate change from now on, and this had to be done via the United Nations and the Kyoto framework during the upcoming climate talks in Bali, he said."

And it's great to see the likes of the heroic Flannery "driving the agenda", but just speaking from a perspective of communication - or indeed marketing, if we must use that term - I still wonder about the tactics employed. If the science community used the same production values that, say, filmmakers had - or politicians for that matter - it might have had more effect already. It's only with the airing and promotional blaze of Al Gore's stunt-Powerpoint An Inconvenient Truth that some begin to pay attention. Even then, many, perhaps the majority, have still not thought deeply about it, never mind changed behaviour or attitude.

Sydney bushfires 2002 image from australiasevereweather dot com

I've been wanting to see cut-and-paste-sci-fi movie Sunshine for some time, not because I think it'll be any good, but simply to see an arresting image I'd heard about - a frozen solid Sydney harbour, Opera House and all, locked in ice. A few years back, I started listing a few films that depicted deserted cities, just drawn by how affecting an image it is. With Sunshine's snowy Sydney, I understand it affects not just because it's a vibrant city of 5 million people reduced to ice cube, but also because it's Sydney, a place generally depicted - increasingly correctly - as baked rather than iced. That most unlikely of film review publications, New Scientist, is hardly likely to have Cahiers du Cinema quaking in its boots, but it did point out the '2070 problem' when highlighting the role played by actual physicist Brian Cox as adviser to the producers of the film:

"Well, it's true that the Sun is expected to die, but not for five billion years or so. That, says Cox, is too far in the future for audiences to be able to relate to. By setting the action just 50 years in the future, when for example we see the roof of Australia's Sydney Opera House poking from a huge ice sheet, it gives us something we can worry about." [New Scientist]

Sydney bushfires 2002 image from australiasevereweather dot com

Much as I hate to endorse the shock tactics - I'd really rather people understood the science, had a think, and shifted their behaviour accordingly, but hey - it might be that we need to generate a few more visions, and tell stories that extrapolate from the position Sydney finds itself in; of a city with sea levels rising as fast as food and water prices and surrounded by an inferno closing in at high speed. Apocalypse Sydney is ludicrously overplayed, but sitting here typing away, as the dry heat shows no sign of diminishing well into the evening, we might need a bit of drama to hold that temperature rise to 1 rather than 4.3 degrees.

Sydney bushfires 2002 image from australiasevereweather dot com

[Bushfire images above are from Australiasevereweather.com, of the hugely destructive Sydney fires of 2002-3]

Indiscreet music

Reporting on the aims of the Positive Soundscapes research project last week, news sources picked up on the apparent psychological importance of a varied and unlikely range of urban sounds, and about how we might benefit from the smart integration and manipulation of them within the built experience. Admittedly they phrased it rather more succinctly.

Their examples of 'positive' sounds included "car tyres on wet, bumpy asphalt, the distant roar of a motorway flyover, the rumble of an overground train and the thud of heavy bass heard on the street outside a nightclub" as well as "baby laughing, skateboarders practising in underground car parks and orchestras tuning up." Though the preceding sentence sounds a little like Stephen Fry's description of language ("Language is ... a spluttering match held to a frosted pane, the hulk of a charred panzer, the first downy growth on the upper lip of a Mediterranean girl ..."), it's heartening to see this research going on, and with such an apparently open notion of what constitutes positive sound (and nice to see my old college, MMU, involved).

The research is based on this observation:

"The strong focus of traditional engineering acoustics on reducing noise level ignores the many possibilities for characterising positive aspects of the soundscapes around us. Desirable aspects of the soundscape have been investigated in the past, mainly by artists and social scientists. This work has had little impact on quantitative engineering acoustics, however, perhaps because of barriers to communication across different disciplines." [Positive Soundscapes]

And Dr. Bill Davies is quoted as saying, "Buildings and trees can be used to scatter, deaden or reflect sound, to create peaceful, quieter spaces or vibrant, exciting-sounding areas." As Geoff Manaugh speculates, this is akin to tuning the city - seeing every building in it as an instrument or performer, and thus capable of being arranged. This arrangement would perhaps have more in common with contemporary aleatoric scores than a Bach fugue, but still. So this suggests two things. First, that we could create Die Sinfonie der Großstadt, not as the musique concréte of Ruttman's work, derived from field recordings of existing urban sound, but the deliberate generation of sound in order to affect the space. And secondly the shaping of space itself to manipulate sound to positive effect, rather than simply deaden or reduce.

Modelling this is going to be fascinating. The project looks to have a decent interdisciplinary basis to the research, but I wonder if there's something beyond the lab experiments they describe, akin to how architects and engineers model light movement through cities when developing large buildings, looking at shadows cast by the structure and from surrounding buildings at different times of day, throughout the year, in different atmospheric conditions, and then folding in the flow of urban traffic - people, animals, vehicles, information - through spaces. The kind of multiperspectival parametric modelling described by Paul Seletsky of Skidmore Owings Merrill at Postopolis.

Arup SoundLab Could the urban soundscape be modelled in a similar way? The transmission and refection of sound waves would also vary at different points of the year, different temperatures and weather conditions ... and that urban traffic would affect it wildly. They would generally be highly diffuse reflections, amidst ever-varying open spaces. Arup's SoundLab systems in New York, London and Melbourne does this within proposed building designs - principally for performance spaces like concert halls - modelling the interior acoustic spaces and enabling them to be tuned, but I'm not sure it's ever been scaled up to look at the sound interplay between multiple buildings and across open spaces. A form of ray tracing, but of sound waves instead. I imagine this has been done within many enclosed spaces - say, within car design for instance. But to scale up this 'wave tracing' to be a tool within urban design? It would be unbelievably complex, but fascinating. Each building becomes an active participant in the shaping of the sound of the city at that point, each a player in an arrangement of noise. Assessing the impact of the building on its environment - or where architecture blurs into urban design - becomes an even more difficult yet rewarding problem.

Wavetracing

Juhani Pallassma's The Eyes of the Skin provides further impetus. A fabulous book on all counts, foremost amongst its many contributions is a thorough excoriation of western architecture's obsession with sight over the other senses. Of course, this neglectful focus (!) includes an endemic oversight (!) of the importance of sound within built spaces, which Pallassma highlights (!) throughout [That's enough visual metaphor, Ed.]. Much of the culture around architecture - practice, education, criticism, journalism - often seems largely indifferent to this most affecting of senses (with some honourable exceptions.) There are numerous texts on music/sound and architecture, certainly within the academy or associated pamphlets and books, but it rarely seems to find its way into more approachable public discourse around buildings and spaces.

For instance, a handsome new tome sits on my desk, on "emerging talents in Australian architecture", called Next Wave (Thames & Hudson). It's a decent book on the whole, and the introduction from author Davina Jackson contains this beguiling note, in a section on 'Green building advances':

"One recent eco-building is The Bond, Lend Lease's low-rise, large floor plate headquarters opposite Sydney's former container wharves, where a façade of sensor-controlled louvres faces the western sun and airconditioning has been replaced by chill beams so silent that white noise must be piped into offices for the subconscious calm of workers." [my emphasis]

A great thought right there, but of course the really intriguing thought here is what kind of "white noise"? Who designed it? And what range of sounds could we pipe in to such spaces? [More on The Bond at Inhabitat]

A picture, yes OK, a picture, of The Bond

It would be the only mention of sound in this otherwise excellent book. That's exactly one more mention than most equivalent architecture books, so kudos to them for even that. (I pick this at random, as it's lying there, and for the record, Next Wave is a bloody good book on other aspects of Australian architecture, even if the "optical stimuli" (a phrase used elsewhere in the book) is firmly to the fore.)

Sound artists and musicians have been stalking architecture for years - Steve Roden, Paul Schütze, Francisco Lopez, Jeck/Yoshihide/Tetreault, Stephen Vitiello, Peter Cuscak, Immedia, Luigi Nono, Iannis Xenakis, Bernhardt Leitner, Heiner Goebbels, James Dillon, Akio Suzuki/Rolf Julius etc. etc. - but you try to find more than a very few mentions of sound in any random sampling of the architectural press, serious or otherwise. It's actually rarely referred to outside the field of acoustic engineering, and even there it's usually a case of creating a pleasant, acoustically dead space, inert or negative soundspace. Or latent at best.

There are a few other murmurs in this area, over and above this new research. The brilliant Mix-House proposal, by architect Joel Sanders, directly approaches positive sound and places it at the centre of his architecture. And when I asked Seletsky, he said SOM were working on adding sound to their panoply of parametric models. I'd be interested in hearing about any similar projects. Also at Postopolis, we heard welcome messages about the importance of multidisciplinary teams, with dedicated specialists in sound - and other things - replacing the idea of the sole 'master builder'. If this research project, and others less-heralded exploring similar terrain, really delivers, we could begin to see a revival of the importance of sound within architecture. Writing about architecture finds a whole new set of adjectives, metaphors, and clichés. Multidisciplinary teams explode in size and complexity, before retracting to find a more harmonious way of working. Education responds by restructuring courses around sensory design and multidisciplinary collaboration. The Pritzker Prize is awarded to someone for their pioneering work in acoustic space. And buildings and places begin to benefit from richer 'positive soundscapes'.

Related: It seems I'll take this as an excuse to roll out a quick recording I did of the ambient sound generators at the Tokyo Midtown megastructure earlier this year. Small speakers on stalks are embedded into the decorative bamboo thus:

Tokyomidtownsound

As I knelt down to capture the sound - rather crudely, I'm afraid, on a Leica D-Lux 3 in movie mode - it was moving through a sequence based around these chiming electronic motifs, as you can hear. At other points it was more an altered bamboo sound, a sort of glitch-meets-shishi-odoshi movement. In Aoyama, another new Tokyo mall - Omotesando Hills, by Tadao Ando and team - also had a soundtrack composed for the space. Tokyo is of course a riot of generated sound, from the aural signatures of the individual subway stations through to the streets themselves, but this discreet music was the nearest thing I heard to deliberate shaping of sound within a space, even if the space itself will almost certainly have been shaped to reduce noise level, as Dr. Davies suggests. Both feel a little banal, ultimately, comprising a kind of generative update on muzak. As pleasant as the 'acoustically modified bamboo' sequence was, it falls short of the varied examples suggested by the Positive Soundscapes research. Hit 'play' below to have a listen.

               

Some references:
Positive Soundscapes research
The Eyes of the Skin by Juhani Pallassma
Sensory Design by Joy Monice Malnar and Frank Vodvarka
Pamphlet Architecture 16: Arch as a Translation of Music
edited by Elizabeth Martin
The Soundscape of Modernity: Architectural Acoustics and the Culture of Listening in America, 1900-1933 by Emily Thompson
Steve Roden's weblog: Airform Archives

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