AIArchitect

by Craig Wilkins, PhD
University of Michigan College of Architecture + Urban Planning

Recently several choice, culturally specific museum commissions were awarded to equally choice, culturally specific architects. In and of itself, this is not unusual or even particularly noteworthy. Although choice commissions are not the most frequent of commissions awarded to architects, they come regularly enough to keep several professional magazines, critics, authors, and even a cultural institutions or two turning a profit. However, the recent commissions for the Museum of African American Music in Newark; the National Slavery Museum in Fredericksburg, Va.; and the Museum for African Art in New York City are indeed noteworthy, primarily for two reasons. The first is that the material culture that authorizes these institutions is quintessentially African American, which as a raison d’etre for architecture is still rare, and the second is that the authors chosen to shape those culturally specific elements are still neither rare nor African American.

Despite the exchanges—or more accurately, lack thereof—emerging in architectural and African-American communities surrounding the recent awarding of the Museum of African American Music to the Hillier Group, the National Slavery Museum to Chien Chung Pei, and the Museum for African Art to Robert A.M. Stern, with the development of similar projects on the horizon, it is not unreasonable to expect at least the African-American community to grow concerned about these choices. It is also not unreasonable to expect the architectural community to remain unconcerned about the same. So, situated as I am in both the architectural and African American communities, I feel somewhat compelled to address the selection of architects charged with communicating African-American history, particularly since I see the awarding of these commissions going beyond a concern about a particular edifice and indicative of one much broader. That broader concern—which by the way, isn’t only a cultural one, but also a professional one as well—is centered on the fact that African-American architects, historically and presently, are routinely denied serious consideration for commissions of substantial size, scope, and symbolic importance.

Given this state of affairs, in the context of current and future projects designated to represent aspects of African-American life, art, history, and culture, I think it a worthwhile project not only to make visible this transparent condition, but also to examine reasons why these omissions persist. I submit they persist primary due to archaic conflations of race and ability and thus, I will take the opportunity presented by these commissions to look closer into the ways in which race subtly shapes the study and practice of architecture. For brevity’s sake, I’ll specifically concentrate on three of the most frequently provided and commonly accepted reasons for the dearth of African-American architects invited to compete for high profile projects: existence, experience, and aesthetics.

In the wake of the American Electric Power agreeing to spend up to $4.6 billion to clean up its coal-powered electric generating facilities, many environmentalists are pleased at the outcome of a years-long lawsuit against the utility giant.

But cleaning up coal energy production isn't enough, says Ed Mazria, AIA, whose Architecture 2030 organization launched the 2030 Challenge subsequently adopted by AIA convention delegates, the U.S. Conference of Mayors, individual architecture firms, and many others.

Because oil and gas are becoming increasingly scarce and therefore soon will be prohibitively expensive, coal is the sole affordable fossil fuel that might take Earth to the point of 450 ppm of carbon dioxide, which, he predicts will happen by 2035 if current trends go unchecked. At that point, he says—citing Atmospheric Chemistry and Physics—global melting will be out of human control.

The solution, he adds, is not to produce more fossil-fuel-generated power but to concentrate on conserving energy and learning how to design entirely carbon-neutral new buildings and major renovations by 2030.

Stop coal now? What do you think?

In 2002, as we were preparing for the first Solar Decathlon, Richard King, the director of the competition from the outset, opined that the first one would be the most interesting. The whole concept was new, sort of like a solar Wild West and the variety would be at its peak. The reason, of course, is that contestants study the top-placing entries and emulate them for the next event. And isn't this how styles are born?

But is this a bad thing or good? For instance, plantings were relatively rare in the first two Solar Decathlons and, as a result, drew people in. This week, greenery is ubiquitous throughout the 20-home community that's sprung up for its 15 days of fame on the National Mall. That's good.

Dramatic interior lighting that makes for a beautiful nightscape is good too. And clever little gimmicks such as the home that incorporated a 1950s Airstream in 2005 are fading away, making the solar village much more consistent this year. Some would argue that is also good; some would not.

Now that the competition is to be held every other year, students and faculty advisers jump straight into their next design schema as soon as they get back on campus, balancing pressing deadlines, tight budgets, and a desire to win attention even if it means incorporating the stand-apart ideas of others.

Homogeneity? We'll have to wait and see. But it sure sounds like these students will be better prepared for the world into which they will soon be graduating.

What do you think?

by David H. Hart, AIA
Executive Director, Utah Capitol Preservation Board

Collaboration is critical in today’s complex construction world. The Utah State Capitol Restoration and Base Isolation project was a very complex and difficult project. I required that all worked closely, communicated with one another, and respected each other’s decisions. Developing a structure that allowed for an open, honest, and trusting collaborative relationship was critical to the overall success of the project.

The first step in the development of a collaborative relationship is taken by the owner. The owner or owner project representative must be open to working in a new environment, one where all communication is valued. The owner must understand that knowledge does not just exist in one location but is located throughout the construction industry. The trick is to get the knowledge as well as the best and the brightest people working on your side of the table. For this to occur, trust must be developed. It all starts in the contract. Too often, owners will say they want an open working relationship, but then they force the contractor and architect to accept contract provisions that are adversarial.

Recognizing the need for collaboration as the executive director for the Capitol Preservation Board, I took the following steps to ensure that all contributions were valued and that we were all working on the same side.