| A Cast of Characters:
The Reflective Thinker, the Happy-Go-Lucky Salesman, the Prankster, the
Perfectionist, and the Philosopher
The guest lecturers bring to life the design philosophy that the School of Architecture stresses in its curriculum. Finally, students get the chance to look and comprehend first-hand the virtues of architectural design that is sensitive to context, whether it be climate, culture, material, or place. The lecturers reinforce and rejuvenate the interest in promoting architecture not for the sake of glossy magazines, but for the sake of built environments that breathe meaning to its users. It is no question that each lecturer has a different set of perspectives toward architecture, as their projects have demonstrated. Each also carried a different persona; their varied dispossessions toward architecture are reflections of their personal character. If one tries to differentiate the four lecturers, it is plausible to look at their personality traits--a window to their psyche--as a basis to reach a conclusion that describes, subjective as it may be, their architectural philosophy. In such case, the guest lecturers may be categorized into four different personalities: the reflective thinker, the happy-go-lucky “salesman”, the prankster, and the perfectionist. Gregory Burgess of Australia takes the position of being the contemplative architect. Whether it is an elemental trait or something that he developed during his career, Burgess must have been influenced to ascertain a serious philosophy towards architecture by the mere nature and setting of his Bamruk Living Cultural Center is a serious piece of architecture; perhaps, its success is a result of Gregory Burgess’ serious demeanor as an architect, as a collaborator in the promotion of culture, and as a passionate wanderer within the realms of architectural philosophy. practice. Australia has a very rich cultural history, embodied by its indigenous people. The colonial history of the country also adds to the colorful tapestry of its culture. Faced with the tremendous task of creating architecture that echoes the significance of place and people, Burgess developed a demeanor that seriously tackles and dissects the innate and implicit virtues of a project. His award-winning project, the Bamruk Living Cultural Center, located in Australia, draws its inspirations from the character of the place and the spiritual nurturement of the people. Although the building is nestled on the ground, maintaining the integrity of the surrounding landscape, the center marks its existence in the place by embodying and synthesizing together the aspirations of the people. Burgess achieves this by creating symbolic gestures to native materials and objects that have meaning to the local culture. Perhaps the roof is the most striking component of the building’s architecture; it sets the spiritual mood of the center. Its undulating shape and carefully balanced composition reminds one of Burgess’ intense exploration of architectural forms, particularly those that evoke intrinsic meaning to human psyche. Form evolves and heaves unexpectedly, yet each movement is carefully crafted to reject any arbitrary connotations. Bamruk Living Cultural Center is a serious piece of architecture; perhaps, its success is a result of the architect’s serious demeanor as an architect, as a collaborator in the promotion of culture, and as a passionate wanderer within the realms of architectural philosophy. On the other hand, Robert LeBlond
is a serious prankster.
This does not imply, however, that his work lacks the philosophical involvement that Burgess or the others have achieved. On the contrary, LeBlond tackles architecture with a decisive, forceful attitude. Perhaps, the process to which he arrives at a particular design solution is much more comprehensible to most, but the medium of understanding at which he arrives at is as equally intense as Burgess. This only proves that there is no one way of achieving successful architecture, that the same project may be tackled differently by different architects. As a comfort, perhaps, any design solution may be judged successful as long as the intended goals are met and the implementation and translation of meaning, symbolic or otherwise, has relevance or validity to the architecture. This is the case of LeBlond’s Head-Smashed-In Buffalo-Jump Interpretive Center in Alberta Canada. Faced with the task of “placing” an interpretive center somewhere on a vast area, LeBlond chooses to dig into the depths of the earth and nestles the building within the lower confines of a cliff. For a project site that virtually has no property boundaries, placing the building is a tremendous challenge. Again, another architect doing the same project might have placed the building differently. In his case, LeBlond developed a design philosophy that was tailored to such particular project. By recalling the history of the place, and by fully understanding the purpose and use of the center, LeBlond organized the interior spaces along a storyline. While the storyline takes on a role as a sequential guide that moves visitors through the building, it also becomes a metaphorical spine that holds the different parts of the building together. On the outside of the building, LeBlond chooses to conceal the center among the rocky outcroppings of the site. As a goal, he intended the building to be visually incomprehensible from a mile away. Careful use of color and materials allowed him to achieve this. Overall, one can sense the architect’s serious and pensive attitude in creating an appropriate architecture for the center. However, there is also a playful melody that can be extracted from the subtleties of the building. There are parts of the building that excites the senses, for instance, the large display that demonstrates the dramatic stance of three One can argue that Ricardo Legoretta is one of those dreamers, pranksters if you will, that are necessary evils in architecture. They are as important as the thinkers and philosophers as well as pragmatics--their success creates new symbolism to the aspirations of the people, and their failures are reminders for those other dreamers that there are certain paths that need not be trekked anymore. buffaloes on a cliff as they are about to leap to their death. Although the display has a very sobering message, a testament to the history of the buffalo in the area, one can assume that the concept is a result of LeBlond’s willingness to “frolic” into various ideas and senses, capturing only that which is appropriate to the design. His perseverance on this project is a reflection of his willingness to take chances on design concepts that he deems most appropriate to the building. And because of this attitude, the interpretive center is a successful endeavor. This is one case where the architect’s goals and philosophy create a connective fiber to the meaning and importance of the building to its users and the place, especially when the goals are expressed eloquently by the architect. Certainly, LeBlond’s happy persona echoes his willingness to take risks in his pursuit of an architectural achievement. More importantly, he tackles the insidious challenge of demonstrating his insights to others persuasively and meticulously. By contemplating on the intricacies of his architectural philosophy, LeBlond has become a “salesman” of his own expertise. With an added flavor of gregariousness, the architect has mastered the art of architectural salesmanship. Somewhere between the personality traits of Gregory Burgess and Robert LeBlond is Ricardo Legoretta’s playful attitude towards architecture. Again, rather than a descriptive word for the architect’s work, it describes the attitude behind the creation of his projects. |
Legoretta’s award-winning project is the Museo de Arte Contemporaneo Marco, located in Mexico City, Mexico. Legoretta has a tendency to “play” with architectonic forms, color, and spaces. Like Burgess, this may be attributable to the culture and place of his practice. In fact, Legoretta admits that his penchant use of bright colors is characteristic to the jovial use of colors in Mexican culture. Like LeBlond, Legoretta is a witty, fun architect who always tries to interject comical commentaries in his conversations. Amazingly, one can also sense the same character in all his projects. There is no doubt that Legoretta seriously addresses the needs of the users and the programmatic requirements of a project, but he also takes the pleasure of “interjecting” unexpected twists in the design to steer away from an otherwise simple and pragmatic design solution. Perhaps, that is the key to his success--the sudden shift of attention as an architectural element digresses from mundane to zestful environments. At certain occasions, he manipulates the forms to create a personal message, a signature if you will. This is never more evident than his sculptural “ball-atop-a-ramp,” where a plane, with one end anchored to the ground while the other end supports a solid ball, is poised upward at an incline. For some, this nonfunctional object is nothing but a joke; perhaps, it is a joke. But whatever it is, it is one of several elements that dramatically set the buildingapart from the mundane ones. Another example is the flooding effect that he created in one of the courtyards of his award-winning museum. At a given time interval, the courtyard is flooded with water. This does not only create a soothing effect, by the sound of gushing water, but it also creates a visual attraction to the visitors. Again, this may be trivial to some, but philosophically, it adds a new dimension to the inanimate nature of the building. In an instant, the building sighs or pulsates. One can argue that Legoretta is one of those dreamers, pranksters if you will, that are necessary evils in architecture. They are as important as the thinkers and philosophers as well as pragmatics--their success creates new symbolism to the aspirations of the people, and their failures are reminders for those other dreamers that there are certain paths that need not be trekked anymore. Kazuyo Sejima, the last of the guest lecturer, is an extraordinary architect that thrives on the ladder of perfection. In a world where everyone seems to gravitate towards contextual architecture, Sejima seems to be in a world apart from the rest, perhaps even significantly late from concluding that modernism has been overruled as the architectural paradigm of modern time. Still, she can validate herself to be currently attuned to the aspirations of her own environment, that of modern Japan. But in a larger arena, her view of architecture fails to account the importance Unlike the other lecturers, she investigates a set of predetermined inquiries for the sake of architectural contemplation rather than as a response to the needs of the users. This is a reminiscent to the aspirations of modernism, albeit technological dominance has been replaced by intellectual palaver. Sejima’s award-winning project, the Shainsukan Seiyaku Women’s Dormitory in Kumamoto, Japan, is an exercise in architecture, more as a philosophical investigation than anything else. Unlike the other lecturers, she investigates a set of predetermined inquiries for the sake of architectural contemplation rather than as a response to the needs of the users. This is a reminiscent to the aspirations of modernism, albeit technological dominance has been replaced by intellectual palaver. It is a very interesting design approach; however, such proposal has been investigated by the likes of Le Corbusier or Philip Johnson before. Sejima’s dormitory project revolves around the exploration of predetermined routes that interlink and crosslink various functional spaces within the building. Although at first this may connotes an interesting convergence of spaces, the result of her inquiry is still bounded by strong and rigidly ordered geometry. Hence, the building has a very abstract composition; it is stripped of any quality that may, subjectively or not, indicate a sense of belonging to its context. Here, there is no reference to traditional Japanese architecture which, in all fairness, does not mean that Sejima’s architecture is an arbitrary anomaly in today’s pursuit for contextual architecture. But perhaps, Sejima has been looking too deep in her philosophical quest that she fails to view the relevance of her attempt on a larger context. As a serious architect, her strength may have also become her weakness. Although her dormitory project reflects her proficiency with elemental but critical principles of good design, such as her sensitivity to geometry, form, and space, she detracted herself from the intricacy and nuances of humans as the prime users of the building. In the end, one has no problem admitting that her building is an exquisite example of a refined intellectual undertaking in architecture, notwithstanding the lack of humanistic qualities or meaning to its users. In addition to the lecture series, the School of Architecture is also privileged to have Raj Barr-Kumar, FAIA, as a keynote speaker in the recently concluded ACSA meeting. Kumar expressed himself as a Raj Barr-Kumar’s concerns admonish the profession’s lack of control of its interests, having allowed other agencies to make critical decisions for architects, or having allowed other professionals to “act” as architects. Raj Barr-Kumar stressed the meaning of his message by citing a story about an architect, a contractor, and a building inspector who were sentenced to die by guillotine. All three were responsible for the death of 1,500 people who died as a result of a collapsed building. When the contractor was sent to the guillotine, he was asked whether he wanted to face the blade or not. He decided to face the blade way. Just when the blade was released, it got stuck halfway down. The contractor was freed right away as the executioner took it as a sign from Allah. Next was the building inspector, and she was asked the same question. She decided to turn her face away from the blade. And like the first attempt, the blade miraculously got stuck halfway down. Immediately, she was also set free. When the architect’s turn came, he was asked if he wanted to face the blade or not. He said, “What difference does it make? I’ll face the blade.” Granted with his wishes, the architect lied on his back and waited for the blade to drop. Just as the blade was about to be released, he shouted, “Wait, I see what’s wrong with your guillotine!” This story may simply be funny, but it is a sobering parody to the destructive conditions that plague the profession today. Ironically, architects may be doing the havoc themselves; architects have become too preoccupied with their esoteric endeavors that they have lost touch with much of reality. |