The Eladio Dieste Symposia

Spring 2001. Volume X. No.1·
The Eladio Dieste Symposia
Edward Allen, University of Oregon
[email protected]
Eladio Dieste, arguably one of the finest structural engineers and architects of the
twentith century, died last summer at the age ofeighty-four, leaving a legacy ofhundreds
of remarkable buildings that range from long-span industrial roofs to two of the most
poetic churches ever erected, all of them made of reinforced brick and tile masonry. His
death occurred just weeks before a previously scheduled pair of symposia organized in
his honor by Stanford Anderson ofthe Massachusetts Institute ofTechno logy (MIT). The
first ofthese took place in Montevideo, Uruguay, Dieste's home town, September 26 and
27. The second was held at MIT on September 29 and 30. The programs were nearly
identical, but the Montevideo symposium featured a two-day tour of Dieste's buildings
immediately prior to the event itself.
The tour alone was worth the long flight. Dieste is worthy of role-model status for
architecture students. He worked with one material only for his entire professional life.
He knew it intimately. He exploited its strengths and converted its weaknesses into archi­
tectural character. He designed and built special machines to meet his constructive needs.
He developed special details and calculation techniques. He championed the cause of
regionalism in architecture and disdained the importation of styles and materials from
abroad. He never cloaked his structures in other materials: If they were to be taken as
architecture, they had to make it on the inherent beauty of their funicular geometries. He
(continued on page 2)
The walls of the Church ofAtlantida, Uruguay, are straight at ground level, changing to
sinusoidal at the top, where they join shallow reinforced brick barrel shells to fonn two-hinged
arches.
Connector
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(continued from page 1)
wrote thoughtful essays on engineering, ar­
chitecture, town planning, craft, art, eco­
nomics, and philosophy. He worked toward
a self-defined g'oal of "cosmic economy"
that is closely related to the ideas embodied
in Schumacher's Small is Beautiful and
today's "green" architecture. He never
mounted the glitzy runway of high fashion
The Church of San Pablo at Duranzo,
Uruguay, was built to replace the old nave of
the church, which had been destroyed by fire.
It is composed of folded plates of reinforced
brick masonry.
or sought the fame that he could have at­
tained easily. He just built well. He also built
economically. His structures were built be­
cause they were the cheapest; he was the
low bidder.
Eladio Dieste built buildings that touch
the human spirit at the deepest level. The
stunning Durazno church of San Pablo, a
folded-plate brick phoenix rises from the
ashes ofa burned church, its brick roof float­
ing like a whispered prayer on an astonish­
ing halo ofGod's own light. The voluptuous
Atlantida church is made of nothing but
bricks and mortar-floor, walls, roof, stairs,
railings-everything but the translucent ala­
baster slabs and bits of Venetian glass that
serve as windows. His own house for a
happy family with nine is children, grace­
fully sheltered with low brick barrel shells
comfortably arrayed around three garden
courtyards.
Stanford Anderson wisely set a broad
theme for the symposia: scientific innova­
tion in structure and construction with tra­
ditional materials. Highlights included Mark
West's presentation of concrete formed in
cloth fabric, Remo Pedreschi's interpreta­
tions of the Dieste works, Martin Speth's
experiments with reinforced brick shells,
and Julius Natterer's presentation ofhis own
wonderful structures all of them made of
timber. Most moving were the papers and
talks by Dieste's family, associates, and stu­
dents: Antonio Dieste, an accomplished en­
gineer in his own right; Gonzalo
Larrambebere, chief engineer in the Dieste
office, and Dieste student Lucio Caceres,
now minister of transportation and public
works for the Republic of Uruguay, who
gave a heartbreakingly beautiful eulogy that
was equally eloquent in Spanish and En­
glish. Informal tour bus conversations of­
fered an opportunity to get to know these
and several other extraordinary people re­
lated to Eladio Dieste: son and office di­
rector Eduardo Dieste, engineer Ariel
Valmaggia, and tour leader Federico
Sanguinetti, a young architect in the Dieste
office.
For those unfamiliar with Dieste's work
and thought, the most accessible source is
his article, "Some Reflections on Architec­
ture and Construction," published in
Perspecta, volume 27, pages 186-203.
Anderson is currently editing a book that
will contain numerous contributions related
to Dieste, to be published in 2002.
Posttensioned brick barrel shells balance
delicately at midspan. Agroindustrias
Massaro, Uruguay.
I
Spring 2001. Volume X. No.1
I
Bruno M. Franck, University of Minnesota
[email protected]
American structural engineers must
increase their awareness of design in or­
der to successfully integrate structural
concepts into architectural aspirations.
Structural engineers could then practice
the "art" ofstructural design and reestab­
lish it as fundamental to creating cultur­
ally significant buildings. I hope to ini­
tiate discussions among academicians and
professionals in architecture and structural
engineering. Similar discussions could
engage designers from the entire technol­
ogy spectrum. It would also be interest­
ing to discuss why few American archi­
tects take full advantage of the qualities
ofa well-designed structural system. This
article, however, focuses on reasons why
American structural engineers too rarely
form'structural systems worthy ofrecog­
nition by the design community.
Designs are successful when archi­
tects and engineers collaborate. This col­
laboration must start in schools by rees­
tablishing the lost link between architec­
tural and structural design; a link that re­
sulted in some of the greatest structures
in the world. Currently, architecture de­
partments do a better job ofteaching struc­
tural technology than engineering depart­
ments do ofteaching architectural funda­
mentals. Engineering students are rarely
exposed to architectural issues that are
(mistakenly) understood by engineering
faculties as irrelevant to making reliable
structural systems. Schools of engineer­
ing must close this gap. Design aspirations
for a building come from history, cultural
values, societal needs, and design styles.
They encapsulate the aesthetics and ser­
viceability ofa building, and consequently
relate to its form. To understand the rea­
sons behind the design of most building
systems, engineers must understand:
if
k
•
The architectural program, with its
implications for internal order, circu­
lation, volumes, skin, and structure
•
How building typology and environ­
mental context correlate to structural
requirements
•
The influence ofarchitectural aesthet­
ics on the shape, location, and size
ofthe structural system
Collaboration between architectural
and structural engineering departments is
limited because engineering schools de­
value practice-based teaching while archi­
tectural schools build it into the curricu­
lum. A typical engineering teacher devel­
ops an academic career with few interrup­
tions to acquire professional experience.
The subsequent "publish or perish" aca­
demic environment prevents tenure-track
engineering faculty members from gain­
ing practice-based experience. The imme­
diate pedagogic outcome is that applied
design and construction knowledge is vir­
tually absent from engineering curricula.
Even though a key societal justification
ofengineering is to identify and solve real
problems, and even though those very
problems are the genesis ofmost creative
engineering, little of the corresponding
knowledge appears in contemporary text­
books and curricula.
In engineering education there is a
heavy reliance on analysis to teach prob­
lem solving. Students are exposed to well­
defined structural problems, the unique
solutions to which are found using spe­
cific engineering analysis techniques. Le­
gitimate research investigations using
computer or laboratory-based structural
models often transform into ends in them­
selves rather than being means ofmodel­
ing and understanding components of an
engineering system. Students are seldom
challenged with ill-defined design prob­
lems for which there may be multiple, and
sometimes conflicting, solutions.
The techniques that shape structurally
efficient building systems are found in the
art of engineering design, the teaching of
which is rarely considered a university re­
sponsibility. They were familiar to Eiffel,
Roebling, Torroja, and Maillart; yet they
have disappeared from most engineering
curricula and are seldom included in mod­
ern comtemporary textbooks. Structural
engineering teachers have been charmed
away from teaching graphic statics by the
Siren-like allure offinite element programs.
In abandoning one for the other, they lost
one ofthe gems at the heart of engineering
design and its teaching: graphic form find­
ing. Graphic form finding provides the
techniques to shape, and therefore design,
a structural system that can meet both en­
gineering and nonengineering require­
ments. It can address:
• Architectural form, clearance, and
design-appropriate structural depth
• Flow of forces in plane or space and
corresponding strength requirements
•
Systems with built-in forces that meet
specific materials requirements
•
Geometric constraints such as the size
ofmechanical systems
Most structural engineering textbooks
used in the United States teach sizing of
common structural materials by closely
following engineering design codes. The
code formulas become the basic references
taught to the students. As a result, too many
engineers view the building codes as all­
encompassing repositories of engineering
knowledge. They should instead of inter­
pret them as the minima that must be met
by common systems built using standard
construction techniques and designed for
somewhat predictable conditions. For stu­
dents to understand the possibilities and
limits set by the codes, engineering educa­
tion must go well beyond the codes and
reemphasize fundamentals.
It is only by understanding architec­
tural concepts and recognizing their struc­
tural implications that engineers will be
able to collaborate with architects to par­
ticipate in the design of building systems.
Students who begin to understand the
deeper implications ofstructural design will
be able to create innovative structural forms
and to engineer systems that support
broader design aspirations.
Connector
Alison Kwok, University of Oregon
[email protected]
How did you get started teaching
technology subjects? Were you a gradu­
ate student instructor? Did you receive
mentoring or specific training in methods
and curriculum development? Are build­
ing performance evaluations and case
study development part ofthe curriculum
at your institution?
The U.S. Department of Education's
Fund for the Improvement of Post Sec­
ondary Education (FIPSE) recognized the
importance of these questions with a
S75,OOO award to (l) evaluate the effects
of the Vital Signs projects on teaching,
learning, and curricular reform, (2) test
and evaluate two mini-regional training
sessions for faculty-teaching assistant
teams in the application ofthe Vital Signs
approach, (3) develop and expand this ef­
fort into a three-year project.
Students measure illuminance at the
University Art Museum in Berkeley.
Difficulties in Addressing the Needs for
Reform in Architectural Education
In his article in Progressive Architec­
ture, "Can This Profession Be Saved?"
Thomas Fisher of the University of Min­
nesota looked to the legal, medical, and
engineering professional schools for solutions
to architectural education problems. His hy­
pothesis is that architectural education could
learn from successful strategies provided by
cohort professions. Fisher concluded archi­
tecture schools need to offer a broad range of
studies. They need to instruct students in re­
search methodology and post-occupancy
evaluations and to provid more training for
professional practice where building diagnos­
tics will be a focus of architectural activity
rather than the marginal activity it is now.
Beginning architecture faculty members
and teaching assistants receive little or no for­
mal pedagogical training. They are ill pre­
pared to provide rich and rigorous learning
environments since they often are thrown into
situations where they are engaging course
concepts for the first time and cannot ad­
equately master the material. An assistant
professor typically has a year or two ofteach­
ing experience, usually as a teaching assis­
tant (TA).
Environmental technology (active and
passive building systems, comfort, energy
use, daylight, air quality) is often regarded as
a discipline completely separate from the de­
sign process, left to be handled by a small
pool ofqualified yet segregated experts. Cur­
rently, more than one-quarter of all architec­
ture schools in the U.S. are conducting
searches for faculty members in this area.
While this circumstance may be a result of a
vigorous economy, there are strong indica­
tions that not enough qualified instructors are
available. Training TAs will expand the pool
of qualified teachers.
Teaching assistants, the backbone of
many large lecture courses, require but lack
specialized training for technology courses.
Most institutions employ one or two gradu­
ate student TAs to help faculty members teach
environmental technology courses. At some
institutions undergraduates (whose sale quali­
fication is having done well when they took
the course) assist faculty members. In a re­
cent straw poll of the Society of Building
Science Educators (SBSE), eighty-five per­
cent of the respondents replied that they
teamed with teaching assistants, but most said
there was no specific training to prepare their
TAs in methodology and equipment use for
building analysis. Faculty members reported
that TAs are often underutilized and rarely
participate in active discussions and activi­
ties.
Building on the Foundation of Prior
Efforts
To better prepare future teachers and ar­
chitects as stewards ofthe built environment,
Agents of Change builds on a prior curricu­
larreform effort-Vital Signs and the intrin­
sic value of the unique role of TAs as both
students and teachers. In a recent paper pre­
sented to the European Association for Ar­
chitectural Education, SBSE President
Walter Grondzik of Florida A&M Univer­
sity wrote, " ... the Vital Signs project pro­
vides an excellent vehicle for expanding stu­
dent views of the built envirolID1ent. In ad­
dition, the project provides a structure that
can enhance student communication and
team planning capabilities. As establishing
a methodology for a site investigation is es­
sentially a design problem, it could also be
argued that the Vital Signs project can
broaden students' design thinking."
Evaluation
We engaged an independent evaluator
to assess the effectiveness ofthe Vital Signs
project in terms ofcurricular reform and im­
provement in teaching and learning since its
inception eight years ago. Because of the
unique curricular context of architectural
education, the proposed evaluation method­
ology in contrast to traditional methods of
evaluation will use sense-making techniques.
Sense making assesses the ability of a pro­
gram or series of practices to transport an
innovation to the curriculum through the TAs
by capturing as much of the story as pos­
sible, using a combination of quantitative
and qualitative tools. These tools include in­
tensive narrative interviews, a web-based
survey, ethnographies, and observations to
assess the regional training sessions.
Experiences from the Regional Training
Sessions
In two regional training sessions-one at
Spring 2001. Volume X. No.1
the University of California, Berkeley; the
other at the University ofWisconsin, Milwau­
kee participants learned the basics of data ac­
quisition and gained hands-on experience mea­
suring buildings and their environments. Uni­
versity of Oregon graduate teaching fellows
(GTFs), teaching assistants, and "expert"
SBSE faculty advisers led teams through ex­
ercises, protocols, and the case study ap­
proach. Each day's session incorporated peer­
to-peer teaching. The heart of the training in­
volves developing hypotheses, questions, and
methodologies to carry out in a nearby build­
ing. In Berkeley, teams investigated visual and
thermal comfort at the University Art Museum.
In Milwaukee infiltration, condensation, tem­
perature stratification, and glare were exam­
ined at the office of Kubala Washatko Archi­
tects. On returning to their home institutions,
the trained faculty-TA teams will engage their
students in case study investigations.
Nick Rajkovich, aVO GTF teaches Gwen
Garrison and Jennifer Rachford (AOe
evaluators) how to use a compass-clinometer.
Attending the training session at Berke­
ley were faculty members and teaching assis­
tants from California State Polytechnic Insti­
tute, San Luis Obispo; UC Berkeley; and
Universidad Tecnica Federico Santa Maria,
Chile. It was an action packed training, and
we learned that two days did not allow time
for discussion, critique, and development of
hypotheses. The Milwaukee training session
attracted teams from Lawrence Technologi­
cal University; University of Idaho; Univer­
sity of Wisconsin, Milwaukee; University of
Michigan; and George Armstrong School of
International Studies (K-12). This training
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session demonstrated that a three-day train­
ing was the right length of time to synthesize
information and network. Winter conditions
can provide provocative building performance
issues, and the timing (between terms) seemed
to allow faculty members to make immediate
changes to the curriculum while exercises were
fresh in their minds.
The lack of equipment does not preclude
a school from developing high quality case
studies. Not only has the Vital Signs project
agreed to give preference for its toolkit loan
program to the Agents of Change teams, the
Agents ofChange project will assemble starter
toolkits that will be available on loan. Addi­
tional training materials will be downloadable
from the project website. Case studies and
exercises will be posted on course websites at
participating universities and linked to the
project website.
Scaling Up
Data from the evaluation and the two brief
training sessions will provide direction for a
future proposal to expand the training to in­
clude training centers in locations such as San
Francisco; Washington, D.C.; and Portland
cities that are easily and economically acces­
sible by plane and have available institutional
resources, peer-to-peer training and mentoring
at SBSE retreats, and travel scholarships for
students to national conferences to present
experiences and findings.
This expanded program would train 180­
240 TAs and faculty members, produce more
than 800 case studies, and engage six to
tweleve thousand architecture students. This
cadre oftrained TAs not only would train other
TAs, upon graduation they would become part
of an expanding pool of direly needed appli­
cants for faculty positions in architectural tech­
nology. These TAs; and faculty members
would be trained in architectural education that
integrates technology and design. As future ar­
chitects, our students would be better able to
align design intent with building performance.
Stay tuned with fingers crossed for news about
the proposal.
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Connector
Steve Badanes, University of Washington
[email protected]
The standard lament of technology
teachers is that we rarely get to teach our
subjects in a meaningful design-based con­
text, and that unless there is an immediate
need for the knowledge we impart, students
will not retain it. Design-build studios, which
have become popular in recent years at many
schools, provide an excellent venue for the
assimilation of technical knowledge. Infor­
mation is acquired on a need-to-know basis
and immediately applied to real world situ­
ations.
I have taught a number of design-build
exercises where individual students or small
groups tackle a series of design problems in
various media-wood, concrete, metal, etc.,
and fabricate their solutions. Before begin­
ning construction, legible dimensioned
working drawings must be signed off. How­
ever, edits and additions to the object are
acceptable as long as they incorporate the
original design concepts. Hands-on con­
struction inevitably yields new information,
which impacts design decisions.
These individual exercises are popular
with students. They are responsible for de­
sign and consequently become more in­
volved. I avoid the difficulties and extra
work inherent in a project that is designed
and built by the entire group. However, I
feel that group projects are worth the extra
effort. Group projects can be larger, more
service-oriented and provide experiences
with real clients. Architecture has always
been a service profession, but it has tradi­
tionally served only those who can afford it.
By working for clients who do not normally
have access to architects, students are ex­
posed to community outreach and to the
notion of society as our real client. Many
former students have entered careers in pub­
lic service, working for non-profits or com­
munity design centers.
The traditional design studio reinforces
some unfortunate assumptions about creativ­
ity, most notably that practice is a solitary
endeavor. Students usually design indepen­
dently and learn to defend their ideas against
criticism. In the "real world," however, little
happens without collaboration. Teamwork
is needed to achieve common goals.
Bradner Gardens Park
We do our initial design work during
studio time, in groups, using a consensus
method with a facilitator (usually me) and a
written "group memory." All voices are
equal, discussion proceeds by going around
the table with all voicing pros and cons, and
we never vote. We break into subgroups with
drawings and models moving from group to
group (people move as well) so that all share
ownership in the design. In my first attempt
at a group design-build studio, at the Uni­
versity ofMiami in 1983, we used a compe­
tition to decide what to build. This resulted
in enormous pressure on the winner and bit­
terness amongst the losers, making the con­
struction phase a difficult experience. The
consensus method has resulted in more egali­
tarian designs as well as shared responsibil­
ity and more enthusiasm during construc­
tion.
Most students have never designed any­
thing that has been built and many have no
previous construction experience. They
learn that by working together, our projects
can happen if they commit themselves to
making them happen. They gain confidence
in the power of commitment, not just in de­
sign and building. We deal with design is­
sues in a practical way in this studio and we
learn building techniques and detailing, but
the real lessons involve self-motivation,
courage, self-reliance, perseverance, team­
work, and service to others.
I've been involved in many design-build
studios in diverse programs and locations.
This article describes the studio I've done
for ten years during spring quarter at the
University of Washington in Seattle. The
quarter is eleven weeks including exam
week, and there are usually ten to thirteen
students in the studio, which is open to
undergraduate seniors and graduate stu­
dents in their final year. Damon Smith, a
graduate of the university's master of ar­
chitecture program and a designer-builder
with SHED in Seattle, co-teaches. I feel it's
important for the students to complete the
project(The clients appreciate this too!), so
I select something that we can finish in
eleven weeks. I choose a client in the fall
and restrict potential clients to non-profit
organizations. Clients are responsible for
securing a grant for materials. Typical bud­
gets range from $5 to $15,000.00. I some­
times help with the grant process.
The class meets Monday, Wednesday,
Friday afternoons and on Saturdays during
construction. If we fall behind, Sundays
also become workdays, and exam week is
always there for a final push if necessary.
On the first day, students introduce them­
selves, telling about their construction ex­
perience or lack of, and explaining their
personal goals for the class. The rest ofthe
afternoon is spent on three short, individual
projects, each using a sheet of 8.5 x 11 pa­
per to build a bridge, a tower, and a foun­
dation, followed by a tour of the shop, fo­
cusing on safety issues. An individual de­
sign-build problem using another sheet
material, plywood is assigned for the fol­
lowing Monday. This gives them something
to build on their own, some experience in
the shop, and an idea of what they can do.
On Wednesday, we generally go to the
site, possibly visiting some past projects
on the way, to meet with the clients and
commit to returning Monday ofweek three
with a preliminary design. We return to the
studio, share our initial reactions and, if
there's time, begin group exercises. I al­
ways make a little speech about the impor­
tance of coming to a group decision. I gen­
erally say that ifthe goal is to build some­
thing really cool, maybe I should design it,
and they can build it. This of course is to­
Spring 2001. Volume X. No.1
tally unacceptable, so it's a short step to get
the class to realize that it would be equally
silly to build the idea of a single class mem­
ber. I split the class into two groups and ask
each group to make lists of both the posi­
tive and negative aspects of working in
groups. This takes about twenty minutes.
We then list these on a large piece ofbutcher
paper, taking suggestions one at a time al­
ternating between groups until they're all
listed. Then they split into two different
groups and make another list-how to rein­
force the good qualities of groups and how
to mitigate the bad ones. This also takes
about twenty minutes, and the results are
also listed on a large sheet of paper. These
lists are on hand in the studio during the
group design process and represent a con­
stant reminder of shared values. I'm in­
debted to Joel Loveland for this exercise.
He did it with my class in 1988 and I've
since done it with many groups. It gives stu­
dents a chance to focus on the group pro­
cess in the abstract before dealing with the
problem at hand.
Design work begins by splitting the
class into three groups and having them
brainstorm. After a few hours (or whatever
time period we agree on) we gather around
a central table and discuss initial ideas. Of-
Danny Woo Garden, photo by Jared Polesky
ten we'll have a "scribe" list important
points of agreement (group memory). We
search for places of commonality and usu­
ally we can agree on quite a few. We then
split into different groups (very important)
and continue designing using the new com­
mon ground as givens. The process contin­
ues as long as is necessary to reach consen­
sus on the site plan, structures, etc. We only
work during class time, and we try to move
into two groups and finally into one. My
role is facilitator, technical advisor, and
advocate for the client. It's important for
the instructor not to have a design agenda.
It's okay to be a part of the team and make
an occasional tough decision (especially
those concerning maintenance issues, which
usually become apparent after the students
are down the road), but the design must
come out of the group. A neutral attitude
commands the respect ofthe class, and helps
to synthesize ideas that appear different to
their proponents, but are really similar in
many aspects.
We review the plywood projects as a
group on Monday of week two; the atmo­
sphere is informal, the criticism construc­
tive. Usually by the middle or end of the
second week, we have an agreed upon di­
rection and can spend the weekend prepar­
ing a presentation for Monday (models are
best for non-architect clients). At this point
the class begins to function as a team or
small design-build office. We do not present
more than one proposal to the clients and
let them choose. We may have called them
several times to clatify issues, but when it
comes time to present, we are unified in our
approach to their problem.
Almost everything in an architectural
studio is about communication: drawings,
models, critiques and presentations. Our
focus is on communication within the group,
finding common ground, setting agendas,
priorities, and managing time-basically
communicating more efficiently. The client
and community meetings as well as occa­
sional presentations to city agencies require
additional communication skills. We re­
hearse our presentations since a polished
effort helps mitigate doubts that students
have enough experience to build quality
public projects. The meeting usually goes
well. There are often some good suggestions,
which are easily incorporated into the
scheme. We spend the rest of the week do­
ing construction drawings, engineering,
material take offs and pricing, etc., with the
goal of breaking ground during the fourth
week. This gives us seven weeks to com­
plete the construction.
For the sake of efficiency, the class
breaks into groups during the construction
phase. Group membership is usually self­
selected, however we all work together on
big items like a concrete pour, and students
are encouraged to spend time on all aspects
of construction to gain as much experience
as possible. There is an inevitable hierarchy
that arises on site as students with more
building experience take the lead and teach
those with less, but we have a group site
meeting before each class to cover any is­
sues that arise. Students are responsible for
material procurement. fabrication, and
scheduling. Damon and I work on site with
the students, but don't hog all the fun work,
using the opportunity to teach building meth­
ods and tricks. I generally give the studepts
a lower budget number than what is really
available, because of inevitable cost over­
runs. Usually someone in the class takes on
the role of bookkeeper, although I like to
keep a close eye on costs as well.
We've always finished and never gone
over budget. Low-income clients are gener­
ally grateful which is rewarding for the stu­
dents. A ribbon cutting ceremony is usually
scheduled to coincide with graduation, so
that parents and family can attend. Every­
one involved benefits. Students work with
real clients and learn something about build­
ing. Clients, who can't even afford the ma­
terials, reap the fruits of student labor. Cor­
porate sponsors polish their image by do­
nating the materials, and the city and uni­
versity receive credit for community service
contributions without having to do very
much. Community based design-build stu­
dios are really about the power of commit­
ment, service to others, and the lasting sat­
isfaction of group achievement.
Frederick L. Walters, University of Oregon
[email protected]
As a practicing architect focusing on ex­
isting structures, I spend a lot of time field
surveying, assessing, and evaluating elements
of the built environment. Several years ago I
was asked by the University ofOregon to teach
some graduate level courses in the historic
preservation program. One course addressed
the technology ofhistoric masonry structures,
i.e. stone, brick, and terra cotta. The second
course addressed a methodology for conduct­
ing an assessment and evaluation of an exist­
ing structure.
My experience as a teacher was nil. The
best I could offer the students was the experi­
ence oftwenty-five years offieldwork. While
the classes are structured somewhat around the
usual twice weekly seminars, supported by
lectures, slides, and technical handouts, it is
fieldwork that offers the best opportunity for
the students to "see," or experience, what one
is trying to explain. One can show slides of
various brick patterns or stonework, and the
student just sees the slide. A fIeld survey al­
lows the students to make their own images.
In his book, A River Runs Through It, Norman
MacLean describes the following conversa­
tion with his brother while out fly-fishing:
He said, "they are{eeding on drowned
yellow stone flies. "
1 asked him, "How did you think that
out...?"
"All there is to thinking, .. he said, "is see­
ing something noticeable which makes you see
something you weren't noticing which makes
you see something that isn 'f even visible. "
To give the student the opportunity to
make his or her own image, and therefore be­
gin to see things that were not "visible" be­
fore, I know of no better way than to execute
hand sketches on a field sheet. Hand sketch­
ing in the field is more than an exercise in
simple recording of what one sees; it begins
to make things visible that are not often ap­
parent. For example, in the masonry course,
observation sheets were made for four historic
masonry buildings on the campus with con­
struction dates ranging from 1876 to 1928.
Each building exhibited a different type of
brick coursing, masonry assembly, loading
bearing wall versus veneer, use of arch work
and other aspects of historic masonry tech­
niques. On the observation sheets, the students
were asked to record such information as:
brick size; vertical measurement of eight
courses and joints; types ofbonds used on the
structure; locations where queen and king clo­
sures were used; belt courses; use of rubbed
bricks; types oflintels and sill; types ofarches;
use ofmolded brick; use ofspecial brick faces
(i.e. shiner, rowlock, soldier. sailor), type and
character of cornice, use of stone. The infor­
mation was augmented with not -to-scale field
sketches ofelevations and theoretical sections
of each element.
Grades were not given on the precise ac­
curacy ofdrawing, or the accuracy of the sec­
tion (for example: students were asked to try
and surmise how the bricks were laid in the
wall to achieve the character of, say, a brick
cornice.) The mere fact that they were in the
field recording and drawing their own obser­
vations made much of the material in class
more revealing and understandable.
Brick observations by ParimaAmnuaywattana.
A second exercise in the masonry class
required the assessment and evaluation ofthe
fayade ofan historic masonry structure. Teams
of two students were required to research the
history of a building, conduct an assessment
of its existing masonry elements, complete
with sketches of all pertinent aspects, and
evaluate the present condition of the fayade.
Students had to address the original materi­
als, the critical physical aspects and perfor­
mance ofthe materials used in the system, how
they were assembled, how they were originally
meant to perform, what changes have oc­
curred, and how are they performing currently.
Conducting the field survey and making the
field sketches were the primary elements of
Spring 2001. Volume X. No.1
11. Cornice
~
cl&I.\.4\u\
Brick observations by Parima Amnuaywattana.
the exercise. By the time a team of students
had, for example, field sketched each piece of
terra cotta on the four story building, detail­
ing where cracks exist, glaze is lost, or mortar
joints failing, and then coalescing this infor­
mation into a single sketch, they begin to see
things which were "invisible" when they
started.
In the class on condition assessment and
evaluation, a single structure was the subject
ofthe course. While the classroom time was a
three-hour seminar once a week, the students
also had to participate in forty-eight hours of
field survey work. The goal was for the class
to collectively produce a report, roughly one
hundred pages in length supplemented with
drawings, that addressed the major elements
of the exterior envelope of the building: roof
system, wall system, fenestration, building
appendages (chimneys, balconies, etc), foun­
dation wall system, and intersections & ter­
minations. As part ofthe initial fieldwork, the
students were given an introductory walking
tour around the exterior of the building and a
tour of the interior. To get the students accus­
tomed to making observations and sketching,
they were asked to make a sketch of the floor
plan and roofplan from memory immediately
after the end ofthe tour. The t100r plan had to
show the basic room arrangements, door lo­
cations and swings, and window locations and
type. The roof plan had to show all ridges,
valleys, penetrations and chimneys, and loca­
tions of all downspouts, if present. One can
easily say in the classroom that observation
ofexisting conditions is very crucial in condi­
tion assessment, but field survey exercises
make the point much clearer. After the plans,
the students were asked to make quick (not
more that fifteen minute) sketches of each el­
evation. Again, this was done to make each
student look closely at the building. It also
provided the basis for the next step in the class.
Pairs ofstudents selected the basic systems of
the exterior envelope to research, assess, and
evaluate in more depth for the final report.
Their field sketches provided a basis for a dis­
cussion on what elements were in their sys­
tems and for which they were responsible.
Once teams were comfortable with their role,
they concentrated on producing field sketches
for their area of responsibility. The masonry
team identified the basic brick bonding pat­
terns, any specialty patterns, the presence and
character ofbelt courses, arches, window sur­
rounds, etc. Understanding brick patterns,
combined with simple wall thickness measure­
ments, can often provide valuable information
on the nature of a wall (whether veneer, cav­
ity, cavity veneer, solid load-bearing, cavity
load-bearing etc.) which allows a greater un­
derstanding of how the system was meant to
perform and how it is performing now. This
can all be taught in the classroom to a certain
extent. Allowing the student the chance to
notice what she or he didn't see at first is easier
to do in the field, and can often make a more
lasting impression.
In the Fall 2000 issue of Connector, Ed­
ward Allen said the combined aspects of ar­
chitecture are magical. For students ofhistoric
preservation, a great way to share in that un­
derstanding is to have them observe, sketch,
and describe what they see in the field. Once
they are asked to notice something closely by
trying to draw it, and noticing something then
makes them see something that isn't even vis­
ible, then the magic often emerges by itself.
Connector
Kirk Martini, University of Virginia
[email protected]
The arrival of easy-to-use, highly graphic, and completely free structural analysis software
raises the question of how this software can and should be used in introductory courses. By
definition, students in their first structures course don't have the knowledge to apply the soft­
ware skillfully in design, but I have found that it is possible to use the software effectively in
teaching several important lessons. This article describes an exercise to introduce computer
analysis to students in their first structures course.
The Setup. I give two lectures on the underlying theory of computer analysis, introducing the
tenninology of nodes, elements, boundary conditions, and sign conventions. Using RISA-2D
and a computer projector, I demonstrate examples. I also emphasize the limits of linear analysis
and give an example where the computer gives demonstrably wrong answers. These lectures are
followed by an assignment where students interpret printed computer output without using the
computer, drawing free body diagrams and identifying maximum displacements. The objective
is to make sure they understand the meaning of the numbers and pictures the computer pro­
duces. By this point, most students are ready to get their hands on the program.
Lab Day. Students, working in pairs, have two tasks to perform during the ninety-minute lab
session. The first is a tutorial that I wrote, modeling a very simple structure; it shows step-by­
step what each screen looks like and what the results should be. The second is a simple design
problem,
Consider the conceptual design of a structure to suspend a platform from a cliff face,
according t9 the geometry shown below.
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I ~:;~~~:!~onns""N....;I-___--.~ '"
30'
30'
(q
I
fl.
I
platfonn
I
I
The platform is to be supported by suspension rods that attach to the structure you will
design, cantilevered from the cliff face over the platform. Assume each hanger rod
exerts a force of20 kips (combined dead and live load). Use RISA to design the struc­
ture using these highly simplified criteria.
•
•
•
•
The maximum downward deflection of the structure should not exceed 2 inches.
No single horizontal reaction should exceed 60 kips.
No single vertical reaction should exceed 30 kips.
All members should be steel Wl4x74 wide flanges.
Attempt to modify your design to make it the lightest structure in the class that meets
the performance criteria and constraints.
These constraints are of course highly artificial; in particular, they completely ignore the
issue of member sizing. This is a deliberate move to emphasize thinking about the relationship
between structural configuration and behavior. As students finish the tutorial and begin to de­
sign, the room fills with a buzz of conversation. Typically, the first attempt does not work. Each
pair of students must then change the structure to improve its performance. Students typically
analyze ten or more proposals by the end of the ninety-minute session, and have engaged in
extended discussions (sometimes arguments) about structural concepts.
The Follow-up. Following the lab, I spend time clarifying the following important points and
limitations.
The problem highlighted some important aspects of design:
•
Design is a process of search within a constrained space.
•
Design is iterative and cyclic, not linear and direct.
•
Some things just don't work.
The problem had good and bad points:
Good: Allows broad exploration of design space, focusing on behavior rather than
calculation details.
Bad: The problem was pure model manipulation without any sense of a real structure
and how it would be detailed for construction, braced in three dimensions, or how
the structure would look in an architectural context. It was a "stress invaders"
video game.
Good: The problem allowed you to discover why trusses are used, and how to look
carefully at the assumptions and constraints of a problem.
Bad: The constraints were very incomplete, since they did not include checking the
strength of the members, particularly buckling.
Good: The problem offers an opportunity to show the value of back-of-an-envelope
calculations to make decisions about overall form. We'll look at this.
I then go to the board to explain successful approaches. Designs with lightest weight typi­
cally have a profile similar to those shown below.
I derive the moment diagram for the load and span condition and show that the profile of
successful structures is similar to the shape ofthe moment diagram in that its depth varies as the
moment diagram varies. The moment diagram can also be used to calculate the required depth
of the structure at the support. That depth times the maximum allowable horizontal reaction
should equal the maximum moment for the cantilever. This calculation is an example of a back­
of-the-envelope calculation that an experienced engineer would do, interpreting the global stat­
ics of the situation to estimate bounds and overall form.
Conclusions. Ninety minutes is not much time to learn a computer program, but learning to use
the computer is not the main objective of this exercise. Students develop familiarity with the
program which allows me to use it to explain the behavior of trusses, arches, and frames. Be­
yond the computer, the exercise demonstrates in miniature that structural design is an iterative
process of generation, evaluation, and critical assessment: a point that can be difficult to demon­
strate in an introductory course. Ultimately, this small example illustrates my personal stance
toward calculating and computing: We learn to calculate not to do complex calculations, but to
understand behavior and make informed high-level decisions, leaving the more detailed calcu­
lations to the computer. Each tool is more powerful used in conjunction with the other.
.{Yr t·Olf.
···l
itw··· 4-
A Forum for Teachers of Technology in Schools ofArchitecture
UNIVERSITY OF OREGON
Department ofArchitecture
1206 University of Oregon
Eugene OR 97403-1206
© 200 I University of Oregon
An equal-opportunity, affirmative-action institution
committed to cultural diversity and compliance with the
Americans with Disabilities Act This publication will be
made available in accessible formats upon request
(541) 346-3656
Connector
Spring 2001. Volume X. No.1
Christine Theodoropoulos, University of Oregon [email protected] lntennediate studios are an ideal setting to address the de­
sign ofbuilding technologies, yet it can be difficult to convince
students to focus on technical possibilities. In their experience,
the design process usually begins with a site and a program. The
analysis of these givens uncovers so many issues to resolve that
technical decisions are often delayed until the concluding weeks
of the tenn when they compete with the time crunch of final
presentations.
Designing backwards is an instructional strategy that de­
lays the introduction ofa building application until students have
creatively addressed other challenges. At the University of
Oregon a studio on tensile structures taught by Scott Howe and
Christine Theodoropoulos began by developing an understand­
ing of tensile structures through models and case studies. Stu­
dent teams then designed a building system that could accom­
modate a variety of space types. Specific sites and programs
were not introduced until the final weeks of the tenn when stu­
dents tested their building systems in response to one of several
design competitions.
Collapsing frame with tensile membranes by Adam M. Olsen