Serendipity. Providence. Lucky Breaks.
There always seems to be an element of design that is due, at least in some part, to “fate”. I’m not talking divine intervention, at least I don’t think so. I’m talking about how, in school, a piece of your third year model falls off and moves to the other side, where it looks inherently superior. Or, while frantically trying to pin up for a critique you flip your trace paper backwards and your professor makes such a big fuss over the mirrored version, you have to change the entire trajectory of your project.
Neither of those things happened to me, of course, but I have seen similar situations. In real life even.
The first occasion I can recall was when we were designing a camp for missionaries. This was a training center for those planning to move overseas for extended periods, so the decor was intentionally sparse. The living arrangements consisted of four identical buildings each with twelve monastic cells arranged around a central living and dining space. The rooms were simple, but generous enough for two people and each has a bathroom with a shower. While the building design was simple, there was a concerted effort for sustainability that aligned with the values and mission of the Owner. This project was to utilize a geothermal heat source. And this was 1999 in a little town in Pennsylvania. This town was so small, it had neither liquor licenses nor a locally adopted building code. Think the town in Footloose.
|The envisioned Campus|
We were hosting a coordination meeting in our office with the Owner, all our engineering consultants and the Contractor. A geothermal system of this size requires space for pipes, pumps and tanks, especially since the campus was going to be utilizing a well field, shared between these four buildings and the large educational building on the campus. Our simple parti did not include large mechanical rooms: basements would be too costly and the attic arrangements would not accommodate enough space. Do we actually have to build a mechanical wart on the back of all these buildings? Problem is, there is no back to these buildings. Half in jest, I said “why don’t we just put all of it in one of the guest rooms?” It was about the right size, as it happened.
|The chip board model.|
Sorry, just trying to diffuse the tension… Everyone kind of tilted their heads for a long moment. After the most pregnant of pauses, the Owner said, “we can make eleven rooms work in each building.” That was the solution. Perhaps the most simple and direct solution there that a room full of people were too focused on to find. Sometimes it just takes a slightly sarcastic twenty-something kid to disrupt the thought process. Okay, maybe “slightly” is being generous.
|We did indeed turn one of the 12 guest rooms into the geothermal mechanical room.|
|Just a glamour shot of the shared living/dining rooms.|
A little later in my professional life, I was confronted with another situation with which (I believe) I handled with more maturity. This situation, coincidentally, dealt with a building housing twelve dwelling units, this time for retirement living. The rooms were on two floors, six over six, and had parking below. We had two stair towers and thought we had them located properly – as many of you reading this will know, exits must be a certain distance apart to qualify as separated. In this case, one-third of the overall diagonal of the building. We knew this, we just failed (up until this point) to account for the balconies – and they were pretty big balconies. Long story short, we had to push one of the stairs away from the core of the building. I felt responsible. I was responsible. Not only was it my job to fix it, but it was my job to tell the Owner how we had to change their plan.
|In the original rendition, the stair was more or less flush with the porches.|
The plan only had to change slightly, but the stair had to project out farther than previously envisioned. It actually provided for some improved privacy between two adjacent balconies and created a feature on the rear of the building. This time there was something of a back to the building and it needed a feature, and here was the opportunity to break up the rear elevation and introduce a tower element. Even so, the change would add some square footage to the program and add some cost and we (that is to say I) still had to convince the Owner that this would be a good thing. I sat down with the Owner to review the code issue with the location of the stairs and the proposed solution. Without any hesitation, the Owner latched onto the new design as an improvement. No head tilts, no pauses (pregnant or otherwise)…
|Without the projection of the stair, I don’t believe this elevation would have worked as well.|
Call it what you may; happy accidents or serendipity; but sometimes turning your designs upside down can only improve them.
This is the 45th topic in the ArchiTalks series where a group of us (architects who also blog) all post on the same day and promote each other’s blogs. This month’s theme is “Happy Accidents” and was suggested by me this month. A lot of other talented writers who also are architects are listed below and are worth checking out:
–>Eric T. Faulkner – Rock Talk (@wishingrockhome)
When a Mismatch isn a Match — Happy Accident
–>Michele Grace Hottel – Michele Grace Hottel, Architect (@mghottel)
–>Nisha Kandiah – The Scribble Space (@KandiahNisha)
–>Mark Stephens – Mark Stephens Architects (@architectmark)
There is no such thing as a happy accident
–>Architalks 45 Anne Lebo – The Treehouse (@anneaganlebo)
Architalks 45 Happy Accidents