Theory

Much steam has been blown up the skirt of the architectural establishment by a recent survey by the Royal Institute of British Architects that claims that architecture students are not "well-prepared" for work upon graduation. The survey then cites a majority opinion that "theory" occupies too much curricular space while practical skills are not given enough weight.

This article is but one facet of conversations and thoughts I've been having on this topic for some time. Should architecture morph back to a vocational-style education like it once was? Certainly the apprenticeship model has its values. However, it seems unlikely that the educational-industrial complex would give in to this mentorship-based model easily. The rest of the debate has centered simply on the rather utilitarian demand that "students need to know how a building goes together." This is typically coupled with a complaint that recent grads aren't proficient enough at the software du jour. The trend that results has been one that has happened much more quickly in other fields: the morphing of curricula whose goal is education into curricula whose goal is skill-centric.

Though I am skeptical of this trend generally, I am particularly troubled by its application with apparent vigor to architecture. I read once on the popular photography site "Humans of New York" that the person interviewed for the photo said "You cannot escape the architect. Every other art you can avoid or at least marginalize if you wish." This has, obviously, stuck with me. Our works are permanent fixtures in our places of habitation. Our profession is one that has a striking responsibility to the public of today and the future. We are not mere artists, we are professionals who provide what amounts to a public service - whether the particular commission is public or not. No one can escape the architect - that's a pretty lofty responsibility that we must shoulder as a profession.

My point here is that architectural theory and architectural history are perhaps more needed today than ever before. We, as a profession, must have a cogent philosophy about design. We must be knowledgeable about principles and trends that have proven successful (and unsuccessful) in the past. We must confront how our work will impact the public. We must consider what our aesthetic choices communicate. We must have at least a view of what it all means. Nihilism does not work when the object of our profession is the creation of something - something that the public may not be able to "escape" for many generations. Our popular culture may tell us that nothing really matters, but this is no philosophical basis on which to conceive great architecture. The architect, the good architect, must be convinced that what he is doing matters. If it matters only to himself, he may be an egoist, but at least he is, at minimum, considering someone. Obviously, the good architect would be more wide-reaching in his viewpoint.

In reality, most students of architecture will not design a building until mid-career - if even then. The slow processes of construction demand a late-blooming profession. Architectural academia is essentially educating students for their mid-to-late career. Much "practical" information is learned quickly in the workplace environment. There is a learning curve, but that is to be expected. I think it is short-sighted and a disservice to the nobility of the profession for firms to demand mastery of a panoply of fairly-easily-learned skills upon graduation. I believe education should instead promote the development of the full person - including reflection upon the individual and his place in the world. Yes, philosophy is impractical, but that is what makes it important. No person acts un-philosophically. That is, we each operate according to our over-arching beliefs. Discovery and development of these beliefs is one of the manifold purposes of education, and should not be jettisoned in favor of mere utility.

At this juncture, I will descend from my digital soapbox.

Allergic to tradition

Yesterday, in a class I am taking, our midterm project was due. It was a fairly straightforward project: we were to design a small daily mass chapel for an ugly, sprawling suburban Catholic parish in Mt Vernon. Mine was quite small and plain (more out of lack of time devoted to the project than to any philosophical reason). I presented it well and the professor nodded approvingly throughout. It was going well until, while a section view of the chapel looking toward the altar was on the screen, he furrowed his brow.

"What is that thing in front of the altar?" he asked, referring to a horizontal line about 16in above the floor, with numerous vertical lines joining it to the floor every 2 feet or so.

"Oh, that's just where the section cut went through the first row of chairs in the digital model," I replied, truthfully.

"Oh!" he replied, looking very relieved. "I thought it was a communion rail! I would've had to fail you on the spot!" he laughed. "But, they're coming back, you know. Some of these priests these days are trying to carve out some sort of precinct for themselves. It's recidivism."

I attempted to muster the blandest expression I could before concluding my presentation and returning to my seat.

There you have, in one little portable story, summed up my frustrations with this class. It's not that the traditions of the Church are debated from a theological point of view, weighing the arguments for and against a certain practice - that would be an acceptable academic pursuit, in my opinion. It's that tradition is simply scoffed at and derided, as if having a communion rail was at once the silliest and most ghastly thing one could do to a church. 

Christmas Greetings

If there is anyone out there who still reads this blog, I extend you joyful Christmas greetings and my best wishes for the new year! It's true, I've been rather neglectful of these pages the past weeks, or, as I now look at things, months. I must say, it's been weighing on me a bit lately. Whenever I get a moment or two of down time, I hear a little voice in the back of my mind pestering ever so quietly "write on your blog". I do love writing and sharing bits of my life through this medium, but it's the life, not the medium, that's been the tiring thing of late.

*     *     *

I returned to God's own land of Michigan late on the evening of December 12th, before much of the wicked winter weather had descended upon the Upper Midwest with much ferocity. I must say, though, that I had begun to miss winter in Washington - a feeling which was exacerbated by the pitiable way in which the region dealt with a mere two inches of snowfall the week before I left. In any event, I am home safe with one semester at the Catholic University of America behind me.

I don't wish to really delve into academics too much (at the risk of boring you, kind reader), but, suffice to say it was a successful semester on both important fronts: the lesser being the grades and the greater being the personal intellectual growth sustained. I must say that I am pleased with my choice to move to Washington and to attend CUA. It has afforded me much in the way of new perspectives and experiences, and I feel as though I am making good connections personally and professionally. But, that's all rather detached-sounding, as if I am writing for a CUA prospectus or something. I'll have thaw my writing fingers a bit more before talking more in depth about people and ideas that have made impressions on me this semester.

*     *     *

The weekend before Thanksgiving I made my first visit to New York City. I went with a friend who I know from Ball State who currently lives in Washington. We took the Megabus and stayed with a mutual friend who was in the city for the semester on a co-op internship program. We scurried about like good little tourists, attempting and mostly succeeding in seeing the major sites. I was sad that St. Patrick's was almost entirely coated in scaffolding both inside and out, but I was rewarded somewhat by happening upon a mass for the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre. It was the first time I had ever seen the Knights in any formal occasion, and it left quite an impression. I think such groups are good for the Church and for civilization in general. I may be accused for being motivated by nostalgia or mere conservatism, but I think such groups can truly raise the mind to the chivalric virtues they strive toward. Modern culture is wimpy. The knights of anything are inherently vigorous.

New York is entirely unlivable. Washington is the upper limit of urbanity that I could possibly ever deal with on a day-to-day basis. There are too many people in New York. There's no breathing room. There's the incessant monotonous march of regular blocks. Urbanistically, Washington wins, hands down. However, as far as the arts are concerned, New York beats everyone else, hands down. But, that doesn't make the city more livable in my eyes, it just makes me happy that I live only a short four hours away at this point.

*     *     *

I've missed Grand Rapids. I try not to cloud my mind unnecessarily with future plans, but one that I do fixate upon is that I would like to move back to Grand Rapids when the time comes. A professor whom I admire at Ball State would always admonish us, "Never give up on your hometown and never be ashamed of where you're from." This admonition, I think, stings the Hoosiers a bit more than it stung me, because it's very difficult for me to ever feel ashamed of West Michigan. I'm not going to gush on and on about how it's a "special place", but I will say there's a lot of raw material, so to speak, that makes it an interesting place to live.

People I meet in DC are utterly fascinated and bewildered by the Midwest. A classmate from New Jersey has never been further west than Penn State, and she was baffled when we had a lecture on Chicago, declaring "I never knew Lake Michigan was that big!" It's interesting being a stereotype. For many people I meet, Michigan is indistinguishable from anything else between Ohio and Colorado. This confronts my thinking in a harsh way, because there's a strong current of what you might call Michigander Exceptionalism in the Midwest. Michigan is different from everything around it. You can compare Indiana with Ohio and Illinois and be ok. Minnesota and Wisconsin are similar. But, Michigan is different.

*     *     *

I've made a lot of progress on my genealogical research in the past few weeks. For a long time, I had no information on my paternal grandfather's ancestors. I just new my great-grandparents' names and that they were from eastern Austria. I have since been able to trace back from my great-grandparents back to the beginning of the 19th Century. They were all ethnic Germans who lived in what was then the western edge of the Kingdom of Hungary. Nowadays, the territory they hailed from is a part of Austria. 

An interesting thing I've discovered throughout my research is how heterogenous my family is. There are unexpected little blips of different ethnicities that just pop up sometimes, much to my surprise. For instance, I was researching my grandma's grandfather, whose name was Frank Ryan. I had always been told he was Irish. His father was in fact a half Irish, half English Canadian, but his mother was French Canadian, descended from a family who were among the first settlers of Detroit. I guess the point is that the further you go back, the murkier things become. I started out my research thinking I was Austrian, Slovak, Polish, French Canadian, and Irish. I'm actually Austrian, Hungarian, Slovak, Ruthenian, Polish, French Canadian, Belgian, Swiss, Irish, German, and English.

*     *     *

Christmas was really nice this year. We had a lot of snow (about 14 inches) on the ground, and there were flurries throughout the day. We went to Midnight Mass at the Cathedral, which was beautiful as always. The chanting of Tollite Hostias and O Magnum Mysterium left a deep impression this year. This was the first time I have seen our new bishop of Grand Rapids. Not that it matters, but I like him. 

I got a hiking backpack, a winter coat, a little DVD player, and a nice messenger bag from my parents. It seemed a lot to me, but I won't complain about it. They will all be put to good use. I'm looking forward to doing more serious hiking in the future. Friends have a February camping trip in Virginia planned, so it will probably come in handy then. 

Friday we head up to the cottage for our extended New Years gathering. Many of the cousins will be up this year. Grandpa reported that the ice on the lake is about ten inches thick - unusually thick for this time of year. It will be good for hockey.

Sundry Happenings

After six days of rain, the District of Columbia has finally settled into its sunny autumn that I've been told so much about. Today it was remarkably pleasant, as was yesterday, which happened to be Columbus Day. It was as good of an excuse as any to have the day off of classes. I can only hope the current mild pleasantness of the climate continues apace throughout the week and weekend, to make thorough amends for the recent gloom.

However, the recent gloom did/does seem to fit the current political mood in the city. As you well know, la crise budgétaire continues, bringing new feats of partisan brinkmanship to the fore with each passing day. We have observed it all up close here in the Capitol, from the WWII vets' peculiarly-necessary storming aux barricades, to the man igniting himself with gasoline in the middle of the Mall, to the woman attempting to ram her little car through the bollards around the Capitol building. It's been an eventful two weeks.

*     *     *

It is interesting to now be classified as one of those "inside-the-beltway" types. Geographically, it's true. But, we know that habitat influences habit. I have found myself much more in tune to the goings-on (or not-goings-on, as the case may be) of the federal government, simply by osmosis. And, let me say, I don't particularly like what I'm absorbing. There is a fundamental malaise that seems to underlie everyone's discussion of things federal. Polarizing doesn't even begin to express it in my opinion. There are quite simply two (or three) visions for the future of this country that cannot come to grips with the reasons the others even exist, let alone contemplate their points of policy. There is something in the political air lurking behind the garbage fumes rising from the piles of uncollected trash. It ain't pretty. But, I don't really know what we can do about it. 

One professor at Ball State, who was one of my mentors, tweeted something the other day to the effect of, "In addition to all of the theatrics, Americans need to take the shutdown as a time to reflect upon what their government is for." I think that's happening bit by bit. Will there be a full-blown revolution or reformation of the federal government? It's hard to say. The mood is here, that's for sure. And, I think, if the "standoff-and-shutdown" mentality continues on down the road, people may start to seriously look at the 9th and 10th Amendments. Already, states are nullifying federal laws (California and the NDAA, for instance). Remember the last time states started nullifying federal laws? I'm no conspiracy theorist, but I do know some history.

*     *     *

Yet, amidst such uncertainties, life must carry on. The spheres inscribed on the city by my various comings and goings rarely intrude upon the realms of political thought. Rather, at the fore lately has been Claudio Silvestrin's presence in studio. I must truly eat my words from the beginning of the semester. It has been a pleasure (albeit a subtle one) to have Claudio back in studio. How to describe him? It is a difficult task. His round, bald face hardly ever displays emotion. He communicates more by pressing his lower lip forcefully into his upper lip and by furrowing (and un-furrowing) his brow than by speech. Yet, he does speak, though with few words, spoken with a rather intriguing British-Italian accent. When critiquing, he will say something like, "You should work in section." And then he will pause, purse his lips, look up and nod slowly at you. And then he'll look back at the papers in front of him and continue: "It will clarify what is happening here. You must have clarity of thought, purity of intention. That comes with clarity of drawing. Don't idolize drawing. Use it to clarify the thoughts you have up here." He'll slowly press his fat fingers into his bald head, look up, nod again, squint his eyes, perhaps wink, and then stand up and leave. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced in architecture school, but it's bizarrely helpful in a way.

*     *     *

This week, there are two lectures of significance. I hope they continue the high standard set last week by Craig Dykers, principal of the award winning Norwegian/American firm Snøhetta, who delivered a fantastic lecture at CUA. One of my favorite lines was, "I have never seen anyone enter a building, drop to their knees and exclaim, 'My God, what a fantastic concept!'" You could feel the academics in the room squirming, but the students loved it. Claudio was unamused. 

Tomorrow, the National Building Museum (mercifully unaffected by the shutdown) will host Japanese architect Toyo Ito, the 2013 Pritzker Prize laureate. Mr Ito, perhaps to the chagrin of Mr Dykers, is devoted to a highly conceptual view of architecture. I will say flat out that I dislike most, if not all of his built works. However, it is still an incredible opportunity to hear from such an icon in the profession. And I find most architects are much less polemical than their buildings, allowing principles to be extracted from their words that perhaps get obscured by their architecture. I am hoping this is the case.

Lastly, our friend Claudio Silvestrin will be lecturing on Thursday evening at the Italian Embassy. The studio is all a-flutter over this particular outing. Such excitement occurs when students are promised good Italian food and wine at the reception following the lecture. So, it promises to be a good evening mingling with the Italians.

*     *     *

I am reading Les Miserables. I am about 200 pages in (of 1200-something). It is very good so far. I appreciate the digressions (sometimes chapters long) that Hugo delves into. They add a layer of authenticity to the narrative. I am also intrigued by many of the Catholic themes I am picking up on throughout the story. I say intrigued because Victor Hugo was decidedly anti-clerical (most clearly exemplified in The Hunchback of Notre Dame). But that is neither here nor there at the moment.

*     *     *

Catholic society is rather abuzz here in Washington because of the new chapter of Juventutem that is being launched under the auspices of the new Oratory-in-Formation at St Thomas in Woodley Park. Juventutem is an youth apostolate devoted to the traditional Latin mass. I am very pleased that such a group is being established here. They will be sponsoring a Solemn High Mass of Requiem on All Soul's Day that I look forward to attending. 

In other news, Cardinal Wuerl, our esteemed archbishop, was on campus today to see projects done by fourth-year architecture students during their time in Rome last spring. The site for their project was the piazza outside San Pietro in Vincoli, which is Cardinal Wuerl's titular church in Rome. He was happy to see all of the projects and tell stories about the church itself and the relics it holds (namely, St. Peter's chains). He also discussed the conclave a bit - most specifically the electric excitement the cardinals felt after electing Francis.

There is No God in that Church

British-Italian architect, Claudio Silvestrin, is the 2013 Walton Critic at the Catholic University of America. He is with us for three weeks in my studio, teaching and critiquing. Last night, he came to our Theory of Sacred Space class and spoke at length with us in question-and-answer format. Some of his most interesting points, in my opinion, revealed his views on modern church design, and where he sees design flaws. I say they were interesting, not because they were radical, but rather because his criticisms sounded radically traditional. Given Silvestrin's devotion to minimalism, I was taken aback by some of his answers. Here, I have reproduced from my notes, his points relevant to church architecture. These comments were in answer to a variety of questions, but I have reproduced them collected and organized.

Question: How do you understand a church? And, what makes a successful church?

Silvestrin: Well, I have never designed a church yet. I would love to design a new cathedral every week, but the Church has not approached me yet. I do not consider any of my works sacred, as such. That would be blasphemy. It is blasphemy to call a boutique, or a restaurant, or even a house, sacred. It is too far. They have moments that touch the soul, yes, but they are not sacred. As for a church, it is a house for God. An architect must not design for only the client, or worse, only for the satisfaction of his ego. Rather, his work is primarily for God. Architecture, like the priesthood, is a calling. Modern churches have forgotten God. They are acts of ego only. They are not houses of God, they are houses of men. Man is at the center of modern churches. Design decisions are based on man, not on God. I went to Ronchamp. It is a great work of architecture. But, that is it. It is a great design by a great architect. That is what I sensed when I was there. There is no God in that church. 

On my way home to London from holiday, I drove way out of my way into Germany to see Peter Zumthor's chapel. I admire Zumthor. So, I went to the chapel. From the outside, it sits very modestly in the landscape. It is unobtrusive, it has a good material quality. All well and good. But as you enter, you must go through this sharp, aggressive triangular door. It is not at all about God. Inside, it felt like a place for the devil, not a place for God.

The great sacred places are all made from natural materials. They have a certain life and vibration. Stone and wood have vibrations that they bring to a building. Concrete, plastic, steel, glass, do not! They are flat, fake, and empty of all vibration! You cannot make a good church out of concrete! Never! It has no vibration, no soul, no life, no history. It is of the machine. You can feel the cold cut of the machine, not the warmth of man's touch, as in wood or stone.

The architect doesn't design a church for himself, he designs it firstly for God. Nobody knows who the architects of the great cathedrals are. The monks built their monasteries for God. They didn't "design" them. They built them honestly, and with purity of intention. That is what gives them their immense power. There is no ego in a Cistercian monastery [Claudio, being a minimalist, is partial to the Cistercian aesthetic]. The architect must disappear in some cases - to reveal the essence of something.

Resonating

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a cloud of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

- Rumi

*      *      *

Sine I first read this poem last week, it has been resonating with me and my current situation. We are reading the poetry of Rumi as part of our introductory regiment for studio. Rumi has been much in vogue among New Age-ers and the like for some of his more universalist views. But, I echo both Thomas Aquinas who advised seeking truth wherever it may be found and a Polish proverb that points out that even broken clocks are right twice per day.

So early in my experience here in DC, I never know what the day will hold. There are many possibilities for both happiness and sorrow. Friendships are slowly developing, perhaps too slowly for my liking. I come from a vast network of friends, for whom I am very grateful. But, none of them are around. This is a new feeling for me. It isn't like freshman year either, where life in the residence halls provided a ready-made social environment.

This is not to say I am unhappy - far from it. We are just in unfamiliar territory at the moment. Every morning is truly a new arrival.

*      *      *

Tomorrow, there is an information meeting for the campus Knights of Columbus council. I look forward to getting to know some of the men on campus involved in that organization. Next week there are call-out meetings for both the American Institute of Architecture Students and USGBC Students, catering to architecture students specifically. I was involved in both organizations at Ball State and look forward to the opportunities they'll bring here.

So, there are things on the horizon. Organizations, meetings, and minutes will surely come in due time. Which again reinforces the awkwardness of the current moment. I know I will be busy soon enough. I know I will be longing for solitude and peace soon enough. Which means I should soak it all in now with gratitude. I am attempting to do so.

*      *      *

Daily mass is offered in Caldwell Chapel on campus at 12:30pm. I can go every day if I please. I have gone twice so far. I like daily mass because of its succinctness and its silence. Today we chanted the sung portions of the mass a cappella. It was hauntingly beautiful in its simplicity. No microphones, no piano, just the human voice rising to God.

Last week, the university's chancellor, Donald Cardinal Wuerl, the Archbishop of Washington, was on hand to offer a special Mass of the Holy Spirit for the opening of the academic year. The faculty were in attendance in full academic regalia, and the Apostolic Nuncio was present alongside a host of priests from area religious houses. It was a grand and solemn occasion that lasted nearly two hours. The grandeur of the celebration matched the grandeur of the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception - a rare feat.

*      *      *

I have been reflecting on how interesting it is to be back at a Catholic school. In a very interesting way, I think it was beneficial for me to have spent four years away. I loved Ball State, but it is so refreshing to be at a place unfettered from the bonds of political correctness and absolute relativism. This openness to discussion of faith - but also philosophy and more general spiritual things - is pervasive on campus. The studio concentration I have chosen, Sacred Space and Cultural Studies, confronts the metaphysical and spiritual dimensions of being directly, so that architecture can be in service to the whole person. 

Thus, having discussions on truth, beauty, faith, becomes integral to the progression of architectural education. Again, it feels as though I am breathing new and wondrously fresh springtime air. My past experiences of architectural education dared not even broach the questions of what makes architecture "good" or "beautiful". The relativistic tiptoeing-on-eggshells responses of professors were designed to be purposely vague so that one theory of what makes good architecture is not valued more than another. Of course, this was coupled with a nearly universal disdain for anything remotely traditional. At least here, everyone is showing their cards. I am enrolled in a studio that will be exploring minimalism. I have my own intellectual baggage about minimalism, but at least I know where I'm headed. I may be being cleared out for a new delight.

*      *      *

Campus is thronged by priests and religious in their habits. Seeing the variety of habits, cassocks, etc. gladdens my heart. It's like seeing a policeman or fireman in their uniform - you know that these men and women have put their lives at the service of others (and God, in this case). I wish the wider culture could see more priests and religious properly dressed out and about. It is such a counter-cultural sign to this self-obsessed era of ours.

*      *      *

I don't have air-conditioning in my apartment. This has taken some getting used to, as it has been routinely in the 90s since I moved in. The humidity is what really kicks my butt. I have never sweated so much in my life as I have the past two weeks. But, I am learning to cope, slowly but surely. Hydration is key, and I find myself drinking water at intervals that would've seemed preposterous in Muncie. Luckily, the evenings have been cool, so sleep has not been an issue. 

*      *      *

This past weekend, my friend Heather arrived for a visit of a few days. It was so very nice to have someone here to spend time with - especially such a good friend. I got to play tour guide around DC - it's amazing how quickly I'm becoming oriented to everything. It was fun to play tourist a little bit. We went to the National Gallery of Art, the monuments, the Air and Space Museum, caught the Army Blues band playing a concert on the steps of the Capitol. It was a nice, full weekend.

Also in the vein of travel and tourism, I'm looking forward to heading home in a week and a half for my cousin's wedding. The following weekend, I'm going to Boston to meet my parents for my birthday. And, at some point this fall, I must get up to New York to visit a good friend from Ball State who's working there for the semester. Being in a well-connected city like DC makes such visiting so much easier.

On Grotesquely-Dancing Architecture

"Based on such uncertain, shaky, and non-existent cultural foundations, it has not taken long for the structures of much contemporary architecture to assume either the lugubriously ridiculous appearance of a hilariously grotesque Brueghelian dance; or to appear like a sky-reaching duel between aseptic Towers of Babel made of steel, glass, and special materials which, by the first story have lost the reason for their daring apart from guilty and naive construction." - Claudio Silvestrin

 

The Wedding Dance, Pieter Brueghel

Addition to the Royal Ontario Museum, Daniel Libeskind

 

Mr. Silvestrin is an acclaimed Italian-British architect who will be at CUA for three weeks this semester as the Walton Distinguished Visiting Critic. He will be specifically working with the studio I am taking, which focuses on sacred space and cultural expression in architecture. He is an avowed minimalist, which is something that immediately arouses suspicion in my mind, but, as evidenced by the quote above, I think he and I are coming from the same direction when it comes to diagnosing the problem of contemporary architecture. It will be an interesting studio indeed.

It is a privilege to announce that I will be attending the Catholic University of America this fall to begin my graduate studies. I will be pursuing a joint Master of Architecture and Master of Science in Sustainable Development degree. The Master of Architecture concentration I have chosen is Sacred Space and Cultural Studies - the only such program in the nation. I will be working as a research assistant under the concentration's director.

I am thrilled for this opportunity and I look forward to moving to Washington, DC, and all of the excitement that comes with it! Thanks to all who've been supportive of me, and I humbly ask your continued prayers as I continue my education.

Cripe

Last night, Ethan and I completed our entry in the 2012 Cripe design competition. The annual 4th-year competition, sponsored by Cripe Architects, of Indianapolis, is typically dovetailed into a larger, national competition. This year, the national framework used was the ACSA's call for proposals for Shutes Folly Island in the harbor of Charleston, South Carolina. The national competition was entitled Preservation as Provocation and asked students to consider the historic fabric of Shutes Folly - defined by Castle Pinckney (a decaying ruin of early 19th Century maritime defense strategy) - alongside its natural and geographical uniqueness. Without boring you with details, Ethan and I decided to rehabilitate the fort into an amphitheater space with multiple settings for dramatic settings - taking an old art into an old fort in a new way. Images of the boards are below:

Graduation Day

"This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad!"

The melodious sound of those immortal words from Psalm 118 reverberated elegantly through the Basilica of St Adalbert earlier this afternoon. The occasion was the Baccalaureate mass of the West Catholic High School class of 2012. We suspect that most in attendance were rejoicing and glad for any number of reasons. Ostensibly, we in attendance rejoiced for the graduates and their accomplishment of four years of secondary education well done. The students, on the other hand, were perhaps quietly rejoicing in not having to don another uniform, serve another detention, or attend another likely meaningless forum.

In any event, it is good for the community to gather and celebrate these students (my sister among them), and pray for their continuing bearing of good fruit in their post-high school lives. The setting for such celebrations and prayers, St Adalbert's, is particularly apt for the grandeur and gravity of the event. Carved angels and colorful saints adorning the cavernous interior, frozen in eternal celestial praise, added their mute support to those gathered below. Perhaps they were joined by a quiet echo of the generations of Polish Catholics who have gathered under those graceful copper domes, and whose spiritual zeal lead to the birth of West Catholic in the first place. There is a fitting symbolic crescendo of the worldwide Church, local spirit, and academic legacy in such a storied place.

His Excellency, the Most Reverend Walter Hurley, Bishop of Grand Rapids, was the chief celebrant of the Holy Mass. Though in the twilight of his time at the helm of this diocese, reaching the mandatory retirement age of seventy-five at the end of this month, the Bishop is still an able man with a quiet sort of wisdom that shone through during his remarks to the graduates during his homily. It is hard not to be inundated with banal cliches on such a momentous occasion, but the Bishop kept his gaze firmly fixed on Christ and extolled the graduates to do the same - wise words in these times of material uncertainty, tragedy, and fear.

At that singular juncture, I couldn't help but allow my thoughts to wander into that dangerous region of the mind that remembers how much I've grown since I heard similar words from the same Bishop three short years ago. At the time, I was decidedly lukewarm about the whole faith business. My, how times change. I have to imagine there were many students in attendance who are at the same point in their lives, and may yet turn toward God in new and unexpected ways. High school students have a peculiar habit of knowing everything, but the real exhilaration comes when you realize you hardly know what you know, and have no idea what you don't know. That's when God goes to work.

From the sacred realm and those cross-adorned pinnacles, the ceremonies transitioned into the more secular business of commencement within the gymnasium. I love the formality of the graduation ceremonies - pomp and circumstance indeed. It all raises the mind to the seriousness of the event and the responsibilities that come with the eventual transition into adulthood. In due course, speeches were spoken, diplomas were conferred, and all of the usual suspects said all of the usual things - with great clarity and grace. It was all very dignified and nice. It is one of the benefits of a small school with a small graduating class that allows a more decorous pace of things than at one of those huge student-factories where one is forced to labor through four hundred or so names, leaving hardly a moment for a more intimate discussion of the day.

Pictures were taken in copious number, rivaled only by the number of congratulations bestowed upon the graduates. Kayla was soon whisked off to the Senior All Night Party - an old West Catholic tradition, a sort of last-hurrah if you will. We were left to our own devices and soon made our way to the Walker Roadhouse, one of the most prominent West Side establishments, for some appetizers. Also in attendance at the restaurant was nearly all of what I shall call West Catholic society. In other words, a lot of people we know were there (including the Bishop and another priest of the diocese). I love having a place like the Roadhouse in town. It's the sort of place that I can see myself becoming a regular at (if I haven't already).

Thus ended Graduation Day. We here send all of our best wishes to the Class of 2012, that as they step out to a world roiled with change, they might take with them their knowledge and their virtues and change the world. A special congratulations to my sister, of whom I am so very proud.

Proposed Chapel Redesign

Regular readers of this blog (if you are, I'm terribly sorry) will no doubt be familiar with my penchant for coming up with conceptual or theoretical designs, sometimes for renovations of places that already exist. Such is the case with this post. My high school has a chapel for perpetual adoration, where the Sacred Host is exposed on the altar throughout the school year, so that students are able to avail themselves of prayerful time spent before Our Lord. Members of the community are also welcome to come pray throughout the school day.

Currently (I was there today filling in for my mom during her usual prayer hour), the chapel is in a rather sorry state. I do not have a photograph, but picture if you will a standard-height room with concrete block walls, three narrow blueish-green stained glass windows, an altar that looks like it belongs on a spaceship, and pious clutter of every possible description. In short, it's a bit of a holy mess, making it an uninspiring place to spend time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament.

Thus, since I had nothing better to do this afternoon, I spent a bit of time imagining what such a chapel could look like if it were shown a bit of tender loving care and a few spare bucks. The results of my imaginative scribblings are shown below:

 

The first, most profound, change is the height of the space. Since this chapel is located near the front of the one-story school, raising its exterior profile speaks to the priorities of Catholic education to the wider public, while the added interior volume results in a room more able to inspire thoughts of heavenly things. Structurally, this addition could be accomplished rather easily by simply continuing the concrete block walls an additional story.

The rest of the changes amount to some liturgical reorganization, clarification, and beautification. The altar remains the focus of the chapel, though it has been replaced by a more noble and beautiful model of (preferably) red stone. A small tabernacle and space for candlesticks are provided on the small ledge immediately above and behind the altar. The reredos, or altarpiece, is imagined as a mosaic illustration of the Divine Mercy encased within a gilded, red-stained, wood frame. The words Jezu Ufam Tobie crown the composition. These words were revealed to St. Faustina along with the image of the Divine Mercy and are translated as Jesus, I Trust in You.  

The iconographic program of the Divine Mercy was chosen, in part, because of its connections with Poland. The west side of Grand Rapids is known for its Polish heritage, and many students of my high school are of Polish descent. Of course, the image and message of the Divine Mercy are things which are very pressing for our times and would be of great spiritual reassurance to those who frequent the chapel. Another, more subtle, nod to Grand Rapids' Polish Catholic heritage is the colored bands of stone composing the pilasters on both sides of the altar. A similar coloration pattern can be found on the columns of the Basilica of St Adalbert - one of Grand Rapids' finest churches, a monument to Polish immigrant faith, and the location of my high school's baccalaureate mass each May.

In doing this little exercise, it was tempting to treat the space as larger and grander than it is or needs to be. Small spaces and projects are always a little trickier because they force the designer to be succinct about the visual points he or she is making. I stuck with one iconographic program, a warm color scheme, a limited palette of materials, and a rather straightforward composition in order to make this little chapel someplace dignified and beautiful without being cluttered.

I'd be pleased to hear what you think.

In 80 days...

I will be in Lennox Head, Australia. This weekend there is a big meeting where we will learn the in-depth information about studying in Australia. Classes, roommates, and sundry other things will be decided upon. Also, it will be the first time where everyone who's going will be in the same room. It will be nice to at least get acquainted with faces, if not personalities.

Soon...

Does Truth Exist?

Often, in the course of my collegiate education, other persons in class (often the professor) will say something to the effect of "Well, we can't know what truth is for sure" or "What's true for x is not necessarily true for y." This attitude is so prevalent throughout academia that it takes a great deal of sorting to snap out of it and dissect it. Gradually, I've awoken to this attitude by the help of others - most notably by reading the writings our current pope, who sees this attitude as cultural suicide for the West (more on that some other time).

The logical fallacy that each of the above statement falls to is so thinly veiled that it's almost naked, yet we are so used to it that we are conditioned not to see it. The purpose of any intellectual discussion is to uncover the truth about something. In a court case, we swear to tell the truth so that justice may be administered properly. When we obscure truth, we thus distort justice. When we lie, we obscure truth.

So, when someone says "We cannot know truth for certain" we must assume that this person is telling the truth about their beliefs, and that they know that their statement is certainly true. See the error in logic here? If I say "the sky is blue," I genuinely mean that the sky is blue, and I genuinely wish to convey this truth to you. I would not claim that the sky were blue if I knew, deep down, that it was red - it would be dishonest. Thus, when someone presents the unknowability of truth, we must assume that they do not know if what they are saying is true. This is simply the extension of the logic presented.

The second statement is similar to the first. If truth is not the same between x and y, then one can claim that my truth is better than the truth of that statement. Again, the person arguing in this way is caught in an intellectual pickle.

Long story short, when someone says "Truth cannot be known for sure" ask him or her if that statement is surely true. I would be interested to hear the ensuing discussion.

Thinking Like an Architect

Architectural education is a curious thing. This is because the profession itself is curious. The architect, in his professional capacity, is the conductor of a sprawling symphony that he needs to conduct in some meaningful way. The architect (or, more likely, architects) must orchestrate client, site, contractor, engineer, the public, not to mention the entire poetics and tectonics of the building. This is what makes architectural education interesting: in an age where everyone is a specialist in something, the architect needs to be a generalist in everything.

That, I think, is the fun of it. I struggle to think of any subject that cannot be made to relate to architecture. It's interesting that in each of my classes outside of studio, the subject matter finds its way back into architecture in some way. 

• In my Honors class about math and physics, we were discussing the fourth and fifth dimensions. This got me thinking how you would build a five-dimensional building. It is perhaps impossible, but an interesting thought experiment on form nonetheless. Perhaps diagrams explaining five-dimensional space would make interesting organizational patterns? 
• In my Humanities class, we are discussing the various ways that man has dealt with the disconnect between the ideal and real human experience. How does architecture manifest or obscure this disconnect? Should it do one more than the other? 
• In the book The Lives of a Cell, which I am reading just for fun, the author speculates on our evolution toward creatures that possess communal thoughts. Can a building think communally? How do buildings think? How do buildings communicate thought? Such fun questions!

These are but a few examples of what happens when you become trained to think like an architect. That is, once you begin to see the entire world as a vast and intricate and fascinating and fun puzzle - of which we do not know all of the pieces. This is the goal of architectural education. Everything else is simply means to that end.

Being a generalist is what makes conversing with colleagues interesting. Just this evening I had a quite lengthy discussion with a friend in the architecture program. It was what I would call an intelligent conversation. It was interesting because our topics ranged from ornament vs. minimalism, to Vitruvius, to Thomas Aquinas, to New Zealand, to system integration, to grad school, to professional practice, to academia, and to church pews. By now you might be thinking: who the hell would ever talk about this crap? The answer: architects. Because we were taught to. Because the world has these things in it. This is why I find all of my friends' majors fascinating: I can get something out of each of them. 

House in My Head

 We've been apart too long, O Blog Readers! Recently, I have been inordinately busy with the culmination of my first studio project of the semester. Now that everything has been completed, presented, and turned in, things are a great deal quieter on this side of the screen. That said, I thought I'd discuss my studio project in general and give you a feel of what I learned et cetera, et cetera.

The title of the project was The House in My Head, giving one a clue as to its residential nature. The crucible of the project was that we were to design and give life to a house that our client had in their head. Now, our clients were other members of our studio section. So, in essence, each person was both a client and an architect during this project: we shaped someone else's house while giving another person direction on where to take our own house. It was a very insightful project in that it allowed a first-hand experience with the client-architect relationship.

In order to make this project more successful, we, as clients, were not allowed to simply dictate to our architects the number of bedrooms we wanted, or what we wanted our kitchen to look like. On the contrary, we had to express to our architect the overall feeling and experiences of dwelling that we want our house to embody. This was achieved through a series of preliminary experiential exercises such as narrative writing, collage, and conceptual models.

From this idealistic level of feelings, it was the architect's challenge to translate them into concrete elements of living. But, we were consistently challenged to not think in terms of conventional house "parts" but in terms of what we need to accommodate in the client's everyday life. To that end, perspective drawings and models took center stage in the requirements of the project - as these are the easiest means of placing yourself into created spaces.

My client wished to live in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains overlooking Denver. His original narrative and illustrative collage conveyed feelings of intrigue, overlapping, folding, and pushing the boundary between landscape and building. To that end, I developed a house that folds along the crest of the ridge along the main datum of a very thick stone wall. This stone wall is the device that weaves throughout the home, creating spaces as it interacts with other planes throughout.

The house is not enormous, as the client wished to maintain a tight-knit sense of familiarity throughout the house. However, it is zoned in a way that makes each portion of the house seem distinct from the others: there are two sleeping zones that bookend the house, and in the middle are a dining/kitchen zone and a more private family gathering zone. Thinking in terms of zones rather than rooms can help guide the design more forcefully - putting together four large puzzle pieces is much easier than putting together seventeen small puzzle pieces.

In the end, I thought this project was very rewarding. My client agreed that this was a successful visualization of the house in his head. As an aside, my project, and a few other selected projects of my colleagues, will be on display at The Artist Within in downtown Muncie during the Art Walk this Thursday evening.

The Daily Niblet: FYI

For any that are interested: my architecture history course this semester requires that we blog about various writings and works from the modern movement in architecture. A link to that blog is below.

Thoughts on the History of Modern Architecture

The Daily Niblet: Back to School

Our recent scribblings on things papal and biblical obscured the fact that we have returned to Ball State for another year of adventure in higher education. This is my third year of architectural learning at the university, and I am looking forward to it with great expectation. Already, as of this afternoon, I have attended all of my classes for this semester. With some slight exceptions, I am thrilled about each of them. My studio placement could be described as nothing less than providential, and the combination of students and faculty in my section are brimming with potential. My "accessory" classes should be interesting, though a bit more challenging than in the past. By third year, we are hitting the more practicable knowledge such as HVAC, structure, and detailing in our non-studio architecture courses. Outside of the College of Architecture (yes, I do know of the existence of the outside world), I am enrolled in two honors classes. One is the final installment of the humanities sequence, in which we will deal with human achievements from the 18th to the 20th Centuries, and the other is a theoretical physics/math hybrid where we will be talking a lot of theory and philosophy. All in all, it will be a busy semester on this side of the computer.

Bibliotheque Nationale de France

Libraries, like churches, are unique among structures in that they contain our collective culture. Churches, of course, are houses for our sacred culture, passed on through the centuries. Libraries, on the other hand, are houses for our secular culture, the accumulated knowledge of a civilization on display for all to see. The chief difference, of course, is that the sacred culture relies on a living thing - the liturgy, to occur within the church. The library is a mute observer to individual edification. That said, I wish to draw your attention to the splendid main reading room of the Bibliotheque Nationale de France (National Library of France) located in Paris. The building was designed by two different architects, Henri Labrouste and Jean-Louis Pascal. I am, however, unsure as to which was responsible for this portion of the building. The architecture is still rooted in classical ideas about proportion and form, but the thin steel columns and arches demonstrate the innovation made possible by the Industrial Revolution.

Australia, Spring 2012

Lennox Head, New South Wales, with the BSU Australia Center in the foreground

So, remember when I wrote a big long post about how I was so excited about going to Graz, Austria next spring? Well, scrap that.

Turns out enrolling in a foreign university whose language is German is a bit more logistically difficult than your idealistic scribe thought. So, for a variety of reasons, Graz has been thrown out the window. Enter Oz. The Ball State Australia Center is essentially an extension of Ball State located in Lennox Head, New South Wales. The Australia Center is run by a single Ball State faculty member (in this case, an architecture professor), assisted by four Australian faculty from the University of Southern Cross. The nicest logistical thing is that credits, financial aid, and classes will all be Ball State pre-approved.

Of course, the most alluring thing about the Australia Center is its location. The Center is based in a recreation complex in Lennox Head, a small town approximately two hours south of Brisbane and seven hours north of Sydney. Oh, and it's on the beach. The small cabins that students are housed in are literally steps from one of the best beaches in Australia. So, living in the sun for three months is certainly appealing. Also on the complex are a lake with free kayaks, an academic area, and gym.

The surrounding countryside around Lennox Head is composed of subtropical rolling hills in the interior and alternating stretches of cliff and sand along the Pacific Coast. Brisbane, the capital of the adjacent state of Queensland, is two hours north. Between Lennox and Brisbane are several national parks encompassing the stunning scenery of the impressive Blue Mountains.

Built into the program will be field trips to various sites throughout Australia. The Great Barrier Reef, Sydney, Melbourne and Canberra are among the places on the itinerary. In addition, the four day academic week encourages exploration throughout the greater Lennox Head area. A one week spring break begs to be spent in New Zealand.

I am understandably thrilled about this opportunity for its cost, ease, and the amazing sights and landscapes to be found Down Under. I'll be keeping you posted!

Technische Universität Graz, Spring 2012

The Murinsel, an architectural intervention in the Mur River, Graz

Well folks, the decision has been made: I am officially beginning to take the steps necessary to study in Graz, Austria next spring semester (more specifically, from February to June). This was a tough choice to make, and I must remind my readership that it is in no way binding.

For now, I have a lot of meetings to get to and a lot of logistical nonsense to sort through. Wrangling some sort of studio credit (in English) out of the whole ordeal is my chief concern at the moment. Once I figure out that I can fill up a four class schedule (one German, two architecture, and one other class), I will begin the application, which is due August 15th.

I am understandably excited about the prospects of this endeavor. I think it would be just awesome to spend a semester in a place that I love, where I would actually have to integrate with the culture and live like an Austrian student. It is at once a bit scary but also very thrilling. The experiences (especially with the language and culture) could help change my life. And, no offense to any Ball State abroad centers or things like KIIS, but I really want to get out there and find my own way in a way that only an exchange program like ISEP can provide. Matter of preference, I suppose.

Styrian countryside, near Graz

As for location: Graz is the second-largest city in Austria and is located in the southeastern state of Styria (Steiermark, in German). It is a hilly region that stretches between the Alpine Austrian heart and the border with Slovenia, Croatia, and Hungary. Vienna, the Austrian capital, is two hours north, while Salzburg is three hours west, Venice is four hours south, and Budapest five hours east. Graz itself is a well-preserved Medieval town of typical Austrian elegance and charm. There is the token castle, a treasure trove of fine churches, and enough Baroque street scape to keep your humble scribe busy doodling for quite some time. The immediate surroundings of Graz are mainly vineyards (I can see my mother's face turning green with envy already), as Styria is Austria's chief wine-producing region. In fact, southern Styria is often termed "Austrian Tuscany."

Graz is home to two major universities; the Karl-Franzens Universität Graz and the Technische Universität Graz (TUG). The Technische Universität is where I will be enrolled (hopefully, of course), while I will also have the opportunity to take a class or two at Karl-Franzens Universität, which is the school more focused on the humanities. TUG is one of only two technical universities in Austria, and draws many students from both Austria and the surrounding European community. In corresponding with a current CAP student who is in Graz now, I learned that he has had the chance to meet and get to know people from as diverse places as Serbia, Croatia, and Nigeria.

Of course, Graz's location makes it an ideal home base for trips around the region. Me and my fascination with Google Earth have developed ideas for trips to such places as the Austrian Alps, Vienna, Salzburg, Budapest, Venice, Slovenia, Croatia, and Prague. Hopefully time and money will permit these excursions, as I believe that travel to other places is an essential part of studying abroad.

I suppose that is all for now, but I will, patient audience, keep you posted as to my endeavors in this regard. Pray for me, that I might be blessed with a smooth transition into this process.