Chairs

Here’s what’s been keeping me busy for the last couple of weeks. Chairs. Designing one is very tough, especially when the teachers say things like; “the best three or so chairs will be made in scale 1:1, and we will include them in the Bouwkunde chair collection (where chairs by Breuer and Rietveld are kept, for instance). This opens many doors.”

Naturally, with this in mind, and with potential real results that could be quite profitable, you can’t just design any old chair.

Here’s a sequence of designs that I’ve been working on.

The first sketch of P Chair

Later sketch of P chair and the L Chair, a 'correction' of La Chaise

La Chiase, by Charles and Ray Eames

The Modular Low-Chair, all componets are the same

Those were just a few experiments, but here’s what I’ve really been developing, the N Chair, with a (presumably polished steel) tubular base and a independently “floating” (not really, but that is what I want to suggest) seating shell (it’s a very Eames idea). However by sliding the components into each other, it could be viewed as a hybrid of the Eames’ completely independent base and the skeleton-is-all-there-really-is principle of the Heroic period (1920-1939).

Low-back N chair 1.1

High-back N Chair 1.1

High-back N Chair 1.2

N Armchair 1.0

Chaise Longue, version 1.1

Chaise longue, 1.2

N Armchair 1.2

Chaise Longue, 1.3

Zig-Zag Steel High Chair 1.0

High-back N Chair, 1.4

N Armchair, 1.4

Chaise longue, 1.4

Chaise longue 1.41

Chaise Longue 1.42

Zig-Zag Steel Armchair (same base as Chaise longue 1.4, only rotated)

There were of course more designs in between. There are so many, though, that I would spend an eternity putting them all up, and these are the really vital pieces. The higher the number, the later the stage these chairs are in. Therefore, Chaise longue 1.42 1 and 1.42 are the latest studies (using different colors). As for the colors and the exact shape of the seat, that will be researched later (but don’t let that keep you from sending suggestions).

I am quite enthusiastic about the N series. The Zig Zag series, was first tried as a joke, and surprisingly, it has a certain elegance. It is, however, a reworking of the Zig Zag motif introduced by Rietveld, so there are pretty low points on originality, even though the Zig Zag Armchair has some “fresh” elements of its own.

All of the designs are meant to convey lightness, simplicity, and the use of only two elements is keeping with this concept. I hope I can pull it off well enough. Comments, please (if you help me win this thing, you’ll get a chair from me should it ever really be made)!

Peter S.

One Last Collage

This is the last collage from the Formstudy series of 2009. Basically, it is the three other collages “collaged” digitally. It was meant to provide us with insight, though I would hardly claim it gave me any insight at all. The rest of the posts on this subject will involve photos of models of chairs. How fascinating, right? Well, it might be.

House of the Future collage 4

Peter S.

Ugliest House Ever!

I need to make a confession. During the project, house of the future, our duo (Ceciel and I), decided to focus on the theme of “home”, due to our belief that houses in the future will all be “homes”. With some help, we managed to get our concept semi-finished and started with the general spacial compositions.

We argued that a “home” of the future will be characterized by a gradual transition from public space to private space, I which the more public (aka semi private) rooms of the house (living room) will have a stronger relationship with the outside and with the more private rooms (bathrooms, bedrooms).

My humble sketch of this concept also represents the movement through the house. The inhabitant is to move constantly, in a spiral, to make the withdrawal into the private place not only a emotional, but also a spacial journey. The split-level layout of the house is meant to place the person more strongly and in touch with the spaces through which he passed and is about to pass.

Spiral concept for the spatial organisation of a future "home"

The idea is very simple and clear, yet the model looks like the ugliest house ever. I promise it will get better, we still have 11 weeks to make it look like a “home”, where people would actually want to live.

The home, with a porch element and a large terrace on the first floor. Photo by Ceciel van Rinsum

The house has a large private terrace, which should (if properly designed) give the inhabitant a view of the common green, while protect his privacy. This principle is shown in the “caveman” sketch. We believe that this is one of the markers of comfortable and secure home (and community).

The cave: when inside, you can see out, but if you stand on the outside, you cannot look in.

I promise to keep y’all updates as the project wears on.

Peter S

Huis Sonneveld, Rotterdam

During our Formstudy project, in which we have to design a chair, we went to Rotterdam, to see Huis Sonneveld, a Modernist masterpiece by Brinkman and Van Der Vlught (or so we’ve been told). It is not as cool as Villa Savoye, but hey, it’s the closest the Dutch have (if we don’t count the Schroder/ Rietveld house, which I plan to visit one of these days). I hope you enjoy the following little gallery.

Huis Sonneveld, as seen form the outside

Waiting room for guests

Dining room

Kitchen, bare and only used by the staff

The living room, with the strip window

Girls’ bathroom, in the most fashionble of colors

Guest room

Terrace from Puk’s room

Puk’s room

Parent’s bathroom

Ge’s room

Master bedroom

Master bedroom

Wardrobes with built-in lighting (that was in 1930!)

Dressing room

Stairs

Thermostat

Maid’s room

Maid’s bathroom

It’s interesting to see how high bourgeois life is served by modern architecture. But though the house seems quite comfortable, some rooms (especially the guest room) are furnished like your better hospital. The maid’s rooms, though they have the same facilities, are smaller. The Sonnevelds must have been pretty progressive for their time. Apparently, Mrs Sonneveld was the first mother in Rotterdam who picked up her daughters with a car. And that concludes your architectural education for today.

Peter S.

Visitin’ 020 or AmsterDAMN!(13/10/09)

This semester, we’ll (among other things) have to design a chair. I’m really low on inspiration (as of now), so I thought a  trip to the Amsterdam Central Library, with a temporary exhibition of Rietveld chairs might do me some good.

First of all, the area near Amsterdam Central Station is not a happy place. Like in Rotterdam, or The Hague, the Central station is being refurbished. Unlike the two other cities, the area of building activity in Amsterdam is more extensive, so all the way from the station, to the library, one passes a network of fences, small cranes and temporary pavements. It’s better when you reach the library, which is one of three standing buildings (one of which is being refurbished).

The Central Library in Amsterdam

The Library is quite a collage, and is actually quite nice and compact compared to the horrible NAi by the same architect, Jo Coenen, who either does something very well, or very badly (if I should ever find it, I’ll post an image of his project for the  Delftse Poort; which he, thank God, did not win). But enough about the library. The exhibition room is quite small, and to my dismay, the vast majority of the displayed chairs were scaled 1:3. But some were full size, so I’ll show them to you:

The Zig-Zag Chair and the Military Chair

f.l.t.r. Crate Chair, Child's seat and Brace Chairs

Unfortunately, the famous Red-Blue Chair was only a small model, but at least the small models were correctly displayed, at eye-level, which is more than the little Rietveld model collection that our faculty currently displays.  But hey, it was free, and the displays were actually very good and well-presented.

The Red-Blue Chair, 1:3

Since the exhibition was so small, I wanted to go to ARCAM (Architectuurcentrum Amsterdam), but I couldn’t find the way, since there are fences everywhere and the directions were a bit misleading. It was also getting late, and I really wanted to see this one movie, which I did see (more about that later).  I got on the tram just outside the famed complex of the Passenger Ferry Terminal, With the Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ and the Movenpick Hotel (by Claus en Kaan). Methinks the modernistic formalism is not all that great, but to each his own.

Modernistic Formalism

The Next time I will go to Amsterdam is probably when all the work in the city centre is finished (including the new underground), which should be around 2017 or something. Or maybe earlier, as long as the Central Station is all done.

Peter S

Where It All Went Wrong (in Architecture)

Hi there. When I have nothing to write about, I often start thinking about the stuff I’m doing, and whether it’s even worth doing it. I don’t mean whether I should eat that donut, or go to that movie, I mean my long term plan: architecture. Although I am committed to the modern project, I cannot help but feel that somewhere along the way, many things went wrong.

For example: when we question the quality of dwellings, it’s not the shoddy construction, or even the gret density that bothers us, but it’s the absence of a good space. In order to achieve maximum efficiency, rooms (they could not really be called spaces, no less places) are arranged according to functional diagrams that seldom take into accounts patterns of human habitation. The early works of Modernism, however, are often distilled homes, ie things are usually correct minus the opulent decoration.

Therefore, I was very surprised when I found out that the Villa Savoye (by Le Corbusier in 1932) follows many of the advices given in A Pattern Language (1977). For example, many rooms have light on two sides, living spaces on the south, master bedroom to the east, the private terrace, etc…

Villa Savoye, the living room flooded by light

Villa Savoye, the bathroom in the master bedroom

Villa Savoye, the private roof-terrace, view from the living room

Where did it go wrong? I believe the answer is simple. Besides the obvious fact that Villa Savoye is a detached house with a spacious plot of land, where perfect orientation was easily achieved, which is harder to do in row-housing, or flats, I believe it all has to do with generations.

The first generation of Modernists was still educated in the old system, which, although they rejected some of its features, they subconsciously held on to the lessons they have been taught about domesticity. In later stages, this was excluded from the education (we did not learn any of the stuff that is in Pattern Language, though we might argue that it’s quite elementary knowledge). Therefore, the later generations mucked it up, and only the great ones could come to those various conclusion about the pattern of human life. And that’s why so many modern architects still compared (and undoubtedly still do) their work against the Heroic Period (from 1920 to 1930).

While I do not advocate the return to the old forms, or any form of formalism, I do believe that architects should rediscover the simple living patters, so that all could benefit from a home, whether one lives in an apartment, row-house, and not just those who can afford a world-class architect (though after watching Koolhaas Houselife, you might have some doubts).

This should also work the other way. While A Pattern Language argues for an almost traditional(ist) way of life and almost a hippie like society (What can you expect from a book written in 1977 in Berkeley?), this shows that the vocabulary of modern architecture is not always at odds with ‘home’.

Peter S

PS: My hypothesis is not substantiated by anything but a hasty conclusion from half-deducted facts. Sometime in the near future, I hope to show you the photos from Huis Zonneveld (not as cool as Villa Savoye, but still pretty good).

“H” 1

My instructor said: I have a website, but still all of my work comes from social contacts. I guess it is probably true for many smaller architectural firms.

A friend of mine wrote: “you should build me a log cabin”. Why, is a mystery to me. Cabins have been frontier outposts and served a primitive dwellings during European colonization of America (let’s not pass judgments). However, log cabin are not really vernacular American architecture, they’ve been imported from England, Germany and Sweden. These simple dwelling, and the reclusive, contemplative lifestyle that is romantically associated with them (not questioning the reality) even took hold of Le Corbusier, who built himself a little cabin 4 by 2 by 2 metres near his holiday home at Cap St Martin, where he “live[d] like a happy monk”.

I did a little research, took out a book from the library about log cabins and went ahead. I did the little design in a couple of hours over the last few days. It’s still very sketchy, not everything is worked out, and the details have not even been considered. The log cabin is just for one person, with a guest perhaps crashing on the couch.

The cabin consist of a kitchen, living space, alcove for a bed and a simple bathroom. Unlike the usual layout, the hearth placed as a focal point of the living space, which means that less heat is lost to the outside. The hearth and chimney provide stability of this house. The storage units are under the kitchen counters, the window seat (in the living space), when you come in (to hang up the coats) and under the bed.

The large porch (2m) is oriented to the south, the bed alcove has a little window to the east, while the kitchen and the living space are glazed as much as possible, for the light and views (the privacy is maintained by the porch).

While the cabin is not traditional, it is constructed from traditional materials, has a low beams, it is flooded with light. It is not a frontier cabin, yet its main intention is to try and live up to the natural and contemplative atmosphere that is supposedly inherent in the log cabins of the bygone days.

PS: Not everything is solved. Let me know if the thing is too small, I’ll see what I can do. Sorry about the colors, the green-yellow should be light green, but the scanners suck.

Peter S

Life, Art, Whatever… (update)

In a matter of moments, one’s feelings can change from despair to hope. From frustration to some form of happiness and back to frustration again (though for different reasons). Let’s talk about what’s been happening these past few days and weeks.

Firstly, my cousine is trying to go to America far half a year, as a part of some study abroad programme. I have mixed feelings about this. While I cannot resent her for going to the United States (even if I wanted to go there first from my generation), I am actually afraid for her. It strikes me as odd, I always considered her just a kid (though she’s only four years younger), and to see her growing up so quickly… It mightn’t be that she’ll come all grown up, but she’ll certainly be more worldly than any of us. It frightens me, because I am afraid that she won’t need me. Not that we’ve spent that much time together, but I think talking with her has never been just small-talk or some trivial domestic conversations. I’m afraid I will no longer be worth talking to. That she’ll somehow see right through me. That I’m just a self-centered shallow boy, with no real hobbies or anything worth talking about. But I wish her all the best and I hope she’ll take good care of herself (but as Agatha Christie once wrote  ” ‘I can take good care of myself’ should belong to the Great Last Words”).

On the other hand, I’ve been bumping into people this whole time. Apart from Sam’s farewell party, where the bumping into people was not accidental, I managed to see Ying-Ying (twice), Paul and Davide (I don’t count Ines as she’s at the faculty right now, but she’s completely in a different place). Usually on a train station, but no matter…

This evening I said something that really kind of made me think how horribly self-centered I really am. In a casual conversation with my brother, I said I Tube instead of You Tube. Kind of sad, eh…

In other news, other things are going swimmingly. In order to shame my best friend (we decided to stop pretending and drop the ‘ex’ from ‘ex-best friends’), I decided to read more and big, thick books. Even they are architecture books, they’re not the usual ‘lite’ stuff that Taschen likes to publish, with 70% of the content being composed of glossy color photographs. These are real texts with little black and white photographs. And they are also not compulsory, so I consider them something I read voluntarily.

Firstly, I am trying to read the Writings volume by Aldo van Eyck. I’m still on The Child, the Artist and the City (the thinner volume). Sometimes, the text is very well written, but oftentimes, van Eyck is full of big words, complicated grammar, which make him sound smart, but which also makes the whole thing less readable. It’s basically like attacking a carrot with a nuclear bomb, when a simple knife would do. But, I heard that van Eyck, although not-bad, was quite arrogant. I hope the second volume (which comes with a three-and-a-half hours worth of DVD).

Then, I am also trying to read Gideon’s classic Space, Time and Architecture. It’s written in a more accessible style, and while Gideon is somewhat biased and predisposed to Le Corbusier worship (then again, half the architects are), the book reads well and within two days, I managed to read 106 pages out of 881. From van Eyck’s book, I’m now on page 137 after about a week and a half.

Herzog & de Meuron: Natural History has not been opened since the summer, when it seemed the dullest book on earth. Damn it! I paid the money, so I better finish it (or burn it, at least it will keep me warm).

On an unrelated note, we started Form-study. We’ll be asked to design a chair, which is really cool. I mean, If the whole building thing don’t work out, I could always go the Eames way. I already have an idea for a chair, and I even have a name for it, though I will not probably work on it during the lessons (it’s always good to have an extra design up one’s sleeve, even if you won’t really use it).

But before we got to some sweet chair-designing, we’ve been asked to make a collage. What I made wasn’t exactly a collage, they were more like compositions in-on a cardboard. I made three and you should see an evolution. I have a feeling that I might need to part with the first and the smallest one (first one), not because I have to, but because I want to. It could look well on someone’s wall. That someone doesn’t know yet, but I hope they like it when they receive it. Here they are:

Peter S

Mullerpier

I was essentially appalled at the way that the Mullerpier in Rotterdam was designed, urbanistically and architecturally. To give you an idea: the urbanist wanted to express the original harbour function of the pier, so he got a couple of architects into a workshop and told them to design boxy building of that type, with that many dwellings, etc… The boxy form was to create an industrial port atmosphere. Then, when the architects were done, he distributed the buildings onto the land. Then, some adjustments were made to the design.

This whimsical, almost tabula rasa approach really bugged me. I had to see it to believe it. But you know what, it wasn’t that bad at all. the spaces are not bad, and the buildings themselves seem like they could house several different functions over the course of the years. That means that they’re not your archetypical houses with sloping roofs and stuff. I could definitely see potential there. I think that the Mullerpier could be a prototype of new city-building. Imagine a superblock with traffic all around, and high-rise on the edges, mixed with low rise inside the block, the spaces building slightly angled to charge an otherwise bland space. With underground parking, mixing of functions and multiplication of these superblocks, a city with wide avenues and cosmopolitan appeal could develop, yet remain safely walkable and playable inside. Cool, right?

So although the process was wrong, the result isn’t, which goes to show that not all thought experiments and mental exercises are applicable in real life.

Peter S

Meet… the Smithsons

So, I though, and finally came around, to starting a little series on my favourite architects, my heroes, so to speak. This is the very first piece, and there will be many more to come.

The Smithsons are probably my first architectural love-affair. In the first year of uni, I briefly had a thing with Mies, but that went away rather quickly, because Mies is bit of a craftsman-builder. I mean, he built, and all of it great, but apart from that…

I don’t know how I came across the Smithsons, it must have been reading, though when I contemplate it, their secondary school is something that I remember seeing a picture of when I was still in high school.

The work of Alison and Peter Smithson (that’s right, they were married) will, to someone with little architectural background, seem ugly, disturbing, grim, flawed and some might even say brutal. That last one would actually be correct, the Smithsons helped launch a movement called “the New Brutalism”, which they described as ‘having nothing to do with craft, but with peasant dwelling forms’ and ‘architecture is the direct result of a way of life’. Those of you who wonder what this would look like need think of exposure of elements, material, structure, etc. This, however would be missing the point. The brutalist tried to capture the “-ness” of life, times, environment and, yes, the materials.

But the Smithsons’ buildings cannot be understood without reading. The Smithsons have produced more writing than building, and rather than writing about how to make good (-looking) buildings, they wrote of how the society evolves, becomes more mobile, how the city needs to adapt, how humans need new structures in their lives as the existing ones cannot fulfill their function properly anymore. About how the welfare state frees and ultimately enslaves the individual, about how cities grow and how they always respect the site where their designs stand (opposing the notion of tabula rasa).

Here, I will show pictures of four of their projects. The first one, the Modern Secondary School in Hunstanton (1949-1954). All the materials and fittings were exposed. The water tanks, usually hidden, were emphasized by making a water tower. A brutalist way of doing Mies… BTW; it’s listed.

Photo by Xavier de Jauréguiberry, from http://www.flickr.com/photos/25831000@N08/3007464931/in/photostream/

After their initial success, they became involved in CIAM (International Congress of Modern Architecture), which they helped to disband, and with some new friends (whom they met at CIAM meetings), they formed an informal group called Team 10. Team 10 discussed the problems and soluyions for contemporary architecture. Team 10 formed in 1955 and effectively ceased after 1981.

In 1960, they received another major commission, this time for he Economist building in London. They did a fine job, and it turned out to be one of the few buildings that people other than  architects actually liked. You can do the research on the internet yourself.

Another building, which is  not as famous, but which should be mentioned is the Garden Pavilion in Oxford (1967). Even though it’s brutalist, it looks great with all the greenery around it. Just as the moderns have always intended. Someone once commented that it looks OK now that there’s a big tree in the way, but beware! The tree was always there, even before the garden pavilion was built. This shows the respect that the architects gave the site, and is one of the basic principles of brutalism, using “found objects”.

Another building, this time unloved, is the Robin Hood Gardens (1972) complex. The intention was to create a quiet, stress-free zone where the inhabitants would meet and relax and where children could play. The flats were reached by wide access galleries, aka “streets-in-the-sky/air”. This was meant to provide a new space for encounters and encourage neighborly behavior. Due to poor construction, choice of materials and choice of tenants, the utopia of tomorrow became the dystopia of today. Look at it and you’ll know why.

Photo by joseph beuys hat, http://www.flickr.com/photos/joseph_beuys_hat/108684621/in/set-72057594076169228/

In the 1980s, the Smithsons expanded their writing and teaching activities. They developed their ideas and received some commissions by the Bath university. Their last realized project was re-building of a house for a rich German client (1986-2001). This house, known as Hexenhaus, is their most soft and humane, but nonetheless radical and modern work. It contemplates man’s (and his cat’s) place in the nature, and the notion of openness and protection.

The Smithsons can be despised for just one thing: ugly buildings. This is a subjective comment, but what no-one can deny is the firmness of their conviction, their intellectual avant-gardist position, their consistence and their dedication to the Modern Movement. These were e architects who launched Britain, for better of for worse, fully into the modern era. Their ideas, opinions and projects are still relevant, even if we sometimes use them as ‘this-is-how-things-should-not-be-done’ example. Their little things are the big things.

So, if you are interested, intrigued or disgusted, but you still want to know more (like I did), just google these projects:

The Coventry Cathedral Competition (1951)

The House of the Future (1956)

The Sugden House (1956)

The Upper Lawn Pavilion at Fonthill (own holiday retreat)

For those with really strong stomachs Look up the Berlin Haupstadt competition entry (1958) and the Kuwait Mat Building Proposal (1968-72).

If you get a chance, go to your local library and see whether they have the book “Peter Smithson: Conversations with Students” . There is a lovely project in there called the Put-Away Villa.

If you find the English brutalists as grim and sombre as their ‘monstrous carbuncles’, join me next time, I’ll do a smaller piece on the Charles and Ray Eames who worked in sunny California.

Peace out!

Peter