B.S. in Architecture and Master of Architecture from Ohio State Knowlton School. Master of Science in Real Estate Development at Columbia University. Senior Contributor at ArchDaily. New York, NY. Interested in strategic development of cities at the intangible scale.
Aerial view of the Hanford Construction camp. Image Courtesy of National Archives and Records Administration
In 1942, less than a year after the United States was pulled into World War II, the U.S Army Corps of Engineers quickly and quietly began acquiring large parcels of land in remote areas in three states. Soon after, thousands of young designers, engineers, planners, scientists, and their families, began arriving at these sites that were heavily shielded from public view. Workers there constructed hundreds of buildings including houses, industrial structures, research labs, and testing facilities at unprecedented speed and scale.
Perhaps the most arduous part of every aspiring architect’s career is the built-up doom and gloom that surrounds the process of mentally preparing, and actually taking, the Architect Registration Exam- also known as the ARE. What ideally should be more of a process that tests real-world application and knowledge about the practice itself, has slowly evolved into a mentally exhausting challenge of sourcing highly specific information just to survive each exam. The only thing harder than studying for the exams themselves, is navigating the increasingly saturated array of online practice tests, advice forums, one-off study guides, and rogue tips that seem to shroud the six-part quest for licensure in more mystery than provide any sort of clarity or guidance.
In some of the most dense cities around the world, it’s becoming an increasing challenge to find a comfortable space to live- and similar for when you die, too. It’s estimated that 55 million people pass away each year, and for every one living person today, there are 15 times the number of deceased. Yet urban planners and architectural developers are more interested in dealing with the living than dabbling in the business of death. As a result, it’s created tension in the two parallel worlds- and as time goes on, more questions are being raised about how we address public space that can be designed so that both the living and the dead can coexist.
The sharing economy, an economic system that involves individuals renting out or sharing their personal property including their homes and cars, has been severely impacted as the wave of COVID-19 ebbs and flows across the world. Popular companies like Uber, Airbnb, bike shares, and a variety of coworking spaces that we are so accustomed to being essential parts of our lives, have been making adjustments and creating new strategies to ensure that their customers feel safe and reimagine how they might adapt to an uncertain road ahead.
As the COVID-19 global pandemic has unfolded over the last several months, stories of people cooped up in crowded cities and concerned about their future have anecdotally popped up across the internet. When the virus first arrived, it was common for people to escape to their beach-side homes, or to return to their parent’s house for more space and a sprawling yard.
It’s hard to imagine New York City without the packed subway cars, long lines, and overwhelming tourist crowds that felt essential to daily life. Once the fear of the COVID-19 pandemic has waned, the city, like others around the world, will become clouded and fundamentally altered even after economic prosperity has been restored. In what feels like a revolving door discussion, except now perhaps asked with a sense of urgency, what do we want cities to be like in the years to come?
In the 20th Century, New York City became an epicenter of newly constructed buildings that quickly gained an iconic status. While they greatly influenced new ways that we think about aesthetics and space, many of them met their demise less than 60 years after their commissioning. It seems that in the modern age of mass development, and where a wrecking ball symbolizes progress forward, no building is safe. The tenacity to tear down even these structures deemed to be culturally significant speaks to how architects are quick to dismiss ideas about how long we plan for buildings to live and how we decide when its time for them to come down.
Between the late 1940s to the 1980s, Toronto, Canada, experienced a high rate of growth and development, resulting in a wealth of modernist-style buildings. Due to an increasing population, parishes were also outgrowing their spaces and found themselves in need of new facilities. Consequently, many well-designed modernist churches began to pop up throughout Toronto. This black and white photography series, titled Fifty/50 by Amanda Large, is an ode to these churches, and a celebration of their enduring importance to the city more than fifty years after their construction.
When Jane Jacobs famously said, “Cities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody,” she might as well have been foreshadowing the successful partnership formed between SHoP Architects, James Corner Field Operations, and Two Trees Management. The team, who collaborated on the 11-acre Domino Park master plan in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, has been hailed for creating a benchmark standard in perfecting the process for designing and understanding what it means to maintain a park that actively participates in a two-way dialogue with the community.
Stockyard of recycled building materials waiting for reuse . Image Courtesy of NY Engineers
“Out with the old and in with the new,”....or so they say. In the United States, a cloud of dust and debris paired with a wrecking ball and bulldozer tends to represent signs of forward progress, innovation, economic activity, and the hope for a better future through architectural design.
When we hear the term visualization, it’s likely that we picture a flashy render full of lights, people, dazzling finishes, and a sense of energy about the place that we are viewing. Aside from rendering a three-dimensional space, architects also need to develop their skills in the representation of intangible ideas that help drive the narrative behind their arguments. Instead of creating one-off concepts that are presented in a traditionally linear sequence, designers need to craft a story, structure their designs like a thesis, and consider how our presentations have the power to reveal the priorities of a project.
When Rashed Singaby, Principal at HOK, was contacted by a former client about how an existing stadium could be retrofitted to host esports events, he immediately knew this was an opportunity to create a blueprint for a type of space that has never existed before. Singaby and his team formulated a small research group to test and understand both the standards for each type of esports game and classify them into operational substructures. Since each game requires its own type of setup, it was important to ultimately conceptualize the design ideas and make recommendations for how existing spaces could be modified in order to best consume and be involved in the experience of esports activities.
Havana appeals to those who romanticize the idea of a city that seems to be completely frozen in time. The capital’s urban fabric proudly displays its history, as it experienced waves of Spanish, Moorish, and Soviet influence. What really lies beyond the Revolutionary kitsch of vintage Buicks parked in front of colorful, yet crumbling homes, is the deprivation that Cuba has experienced throughout history.
Throughout history, people from all walks of life with little in common have found ways to unite in neighborhood parks and filled stadiums to put those differences aside for the sake of the sports they love. Sports, and sports fandom, is a source of global unity, and perhaps fewer events in the world can generate such a wide range of emotions quite like a live match.
Many of us spend more time at our offices than ever before and sometimes see our colleagues more than our own families. Workplaces can be considered to be our second homes, which is why the way we deliberately design them in the present day has garnered so much attention. The overarching design of workplaces aims to create a perfect balance between heads-down focus work and layers of collaboration to improve the productivity and general well being of employees. As workplace trends come and go, there’s a new progression on everyone’s minds- and it predicts what a post-COVID-19 office might look like both in the immediate and long term future. Although there’s no crystal ball answer, many architecture firms, research groups, and real estate companies have been tapped to ideate and implement forward-thinking design solutions and health safety policies that will be critical in redefining how we utilize our workplaces for the years to come.
New York City is the pinnacle hybrid between the vibrant and granular neighborhoods that Jane Jacobs once envisioned and the sweeping urban innovations of Robert Moses. However, its diverse population has experienced hardship over the last twenty years, forcing the city into a recursive wave of self-reflection to reevaluate the urban strategies, design trends, and global transportation methods that it had grown so accustomed to. After the September 11th and Hurricane Sandy tragedies, the delicate balance between promoting a sense of individual culture and the strength in unity that New Yorkers are so often known for served as the lifeblood for revitalization. New York City has consistently handled adversity, by always rethinking, redesigning, and rebuilding this city for a better future.
The romantic notion of wanderlust, and having the ability to freely move away from the familiar with minimal possessions is a desire that almost everyone has experienced at some point in their lives. The nomadic lifestyle is so appealing because it represents the possibility of rebelling against symbols of stability and permanence in favor of exploring the natural environment and having the ability to adapt to a variety of living conditions with ease. This desire has given rise to movable structures for the urban vagabond that can transform into a temporary office, home, or even an entire community.
In the most fundamental sense, it can be said that architecture emerged due to the basic human need for shelter. The construction of the primitive hut was realized long before the conceptual Primitive Hut was described by Marc-Antonie Laugier and drawn by Charles Eisen in 1755. Laugier theorized that man wants nothing but shade from the sun and shelter from storms- the basic requirements of a human for protection from the elements. The pieces of wood that are raised perpendicularly give us the idea of columns, the horizontal pieces laid across them give us the idea of entablatures, and the branches that form a sloping incline are covered with leaves and give us the first roof. Although humans have been inhabiting the earth for millions of years, why was it only 265 years ago that Laugier’s theory was penned and made into an architectural cannon?
