House of Cards: Designing Beyond Paper Facsimile

As I work toward notching another "built accomplishment" on the proverbial belt, I find myself pondering the likelihood of emerging from the experience buried in change order ink, frustrated client with "busted budgets", and an overwhelming sense of helplessness about my ability to affect change within a crippled industry - an industry where the design professional's role as "masterbuilder" continues to fade as quickly as an owner's costs continue to rise. According to construction lawyer Barry LePatner, however, we (designers) are simply one cog that helps spin the wheel in "an industry that consumes $1.23 trillion and wastes at least $120 billion each year."

Why is the construction industry fraught with such lackluster performers and skyrocketing costs that outpace inflation? With such lofty ambitions accompanied by unprecedented developments in materials and technology, why is it that productivity within the building industry falls so short; even continues to decline? 'Starchitecturally' designed icons living-on in isolation throughout the world aside - think South African Football Stadiums towering above their shantytown neighbours, an already crumbling Yankee Stadium standing antagonistically abreast one of the most disadvantaged boroughs, or the miami airport now 4 times its "fixed budget" - such a decayed and unresponsive infrastructure continues to retard development throughout our economy in more ways than are easily conceivable. This must be a cause for concern as well as demand for a better quality built environment.

By no means do I claim to have the answers, nor the ability to right this sinking ship alone. In fact, it has become clear to me that I am simply an ill-fated part of the problem - an "unsurprisingly inadequate education". MIT professor Kelly Burnham (1959) suggested that "the combination of genuine design ability and a sensitive understanding of the housing industry is rare, and almost nowhere is it being taught." Arguably, "there has been no improvement since" suggests LePatner. As my fellow colleagues and I might often found harassing our engineering colleagues for their mathematical and scientific approach to design, we are quick to ignore the failings and lack of understanding of our own "(in)complete"  training. Art, architectural history, architectural theory, and the social sciences are equally fraught with a disengagement from the complementary understanding of the built environment. In reality, each discipline could benefit from one another immensely but this is rarely encouraged, and even less structured.

Resisting a lengthy critique of the debilitating effects of degree inflation, it is worth nothing, I think, that perhaps the most poorly encouraged piece of education is the hands on training and apprenticeship. Unfortunately in a continued and valiant attempt to distinguish ourselves as 'experts' in the field we have, for many reasons, withdrawn from our historical abilities - perhaps our right - to assist in the timely, responsive, on-time-on-budget delivery of the built environment. A fear of litigious recourse, an insecurity in knowledge, and what LePatner refers to as "asymmetric information" between builders, owners and designers, continues to ensure that the house of cards is stacked against us with our 'ace-up-the-sleeve' - first hand knowledge - nowhere to be found. Instead, our newfound professionalism remains a mere graphic facsimile of the built environment.

Not Simply a Well-Furnished Landscape

"The idea of people walking in landscape and looking at sculpture is part of the heritage of English landscape design," says Mr. Murray, director of Yorkshire Sculpture Park in England. "But the development of a permanent space for contemporary sculpture is, relatively speaking, new."

Storm King Art Centre in the Hudson Valley would beg to differ as 2010 sees it celebrating it's 50th year. Not dissimilar to Dia:Beacon in its mysterious draw as a destination for locals and visitors from the far reaches of the Hudson Valley and beyond, the sprawling well-crafted grounds of Storm King are guaranteed to please.

Perhaps over-intellectualizing this place by attributing it's very appeal to something more than simply a great 'park' to exercise one's children or to pass a lazy day winding (by foot or tram) its many trails. I cannot help but feel a certain learned sensitivity, however, to centuries of social activity in the pastoral garden traditions of 'the old country'. Meandering circulation connecting strategically placed 'points of interest' and staged views of follies framed in the distance illustrate an historical tendency toward the mystery and intrigue of the once carefully crafted stage set that was the English Garden.

At SKAC, however, scale figures predominantly; a site-specific setting-off of human interpretation with the immediate and distant environs. Hulking sculpture calls forth the gentle roll of the surrounding mountains, others interpret a more precise geometry of plan and elevation against a more immediate backdrop. While its is certainly the large gestures, with their bold interpretation of kinetic movement or thoughtful use of colour that capture ones fascination with this place, its replication via photographic image defies reverence. Instead, the subtleties of wind, rain, fog, sunshine and cloud seek to perpetuate an ever-changing scenography that lives symbiotically somewhere between nature and nurture.

Encountering works of contemporary and modern art is certainly less intimidating in these agreeable surroundings. As your journey unfolds throughout the grounds every piece, in turn, discovers an added dimension in relation to the specific living context it inhabits. Perhaps, for this reason, the only thing new about Storm King Art Centre is that the term 'Sculpture Park' has been omitted from it's name - instead bearing only the name of a museum that pays homage to the confines of room; earth and sky.

Hudson River Haunts: More than a "Nabisco Thing"

Beyond the trips of Ichabod Crane, the Headless Horseman, and the Legendary town of Sleepy Hollow lies a gallery/exhibit space unlike any other. Still striving to retain it's expansive production and manufacturing history, the refurbished printing plant (built by Nabisco) turned art gallery - Dia:Beacon - is a site that elicits intrigue and solicits participation up close and from a distance. Although the rotational and permanent exhibits of the Dia facility are left open to interpretation, its experientially and sequential stories (legends) induce a unique understanding of art-in-place.

Dia:Beacon is a satellite campus of the NYC art juggernaut competing for pole position with the likes of the Met, MOMA, and many other converted industrial facilities. A site that houses spatially ambitious contemporary and modern art installations, paintings, and multimedia experiences also serves up an exploratory gallery experience like no other. For the ambitious and curatorially curious, Dia:Beacon serves up art that seeks to define and encourage outdoor participation and waterfront engagement - blurring the lines between art for consumption and landscape as art.

A thoughtful intervention about 1km away from the main galley space itself is a 'pause' along the Hudson River waterfront created by George Trakas. Aspiring to the likes of  Robert Smithson's 'Spiral Jetty', 'Beacon Point' seeks to provoke our senses and shed light on our influences upon the vernacular landscape. Most striking and memorable is the symbiotic experience of this place with the Dia facility. Distinctly affiliated with it's familial counterparts within Manhattan, Dia:Beacon resides outside the zone of influence; the intellectualized and philosophical realm of the art circles of Manhattan. A distinctly unique destination of sorts, Beacon Point and the supporting facility relentlessly draws visitors from far and wide, creating an aura of mythology around itself that only distance, reputation, and perhaps even legend could possibly maintain.

More than the art itself, the physical spaces of the gallery and it's environs speak volumes and elicit a corporeal response to place that is truly unique. The route upon which one journeys to this mythical landscape along the historical haunts of the Hudson River undoubtedly has a distinct influence on their degree of enjoyment and ones anticipation of arrival. Route 9, obviously a more aged and meandering route, tantalizes ones emotive responses to the emergence and plethora of green that abounds ones vehicular experience en route. Mature 'tunnels' of London plane and chestnut trees line romantically intimate single lane drives through rolling topography that drift through nodes of urban historical settlement. Sleepy Hollow, Tarrytown, and the likes of Dobbs Ferry lay in wait to tell their story through the low density and small town feel of old American settlement, heavily informed by industrial evolution (and gradual dissolution) along the Hudson River. This historical and slow-paced sequence on the trip to Beacon succeeds in couching our anticipation and expectations of art within the context of an experiential pilgrimage. Arriving to park our car within a diverse orchard of flowering fruit trees and a seasonally changing landscape only serve to elevate one's leisurely pleasures of the day and highlight the site-specific nature of this facility and its accoutrements.

Perhaps the Sunday drive is not entirely a remnant of the Model T Ford era that promoted the use of the vehicle as a vessel for freedom and personal expression. In fact, my recent visit to Dia:Beacon only serves to reinforce an idea that predates the vehicle and the socially contrived associations of the 'gallery-goer'. The exhibition of art is much more than mere consumption. Instead it is a catalyst for exploration, critical thought, and most importantly the experience, acknowledgent, and appreciation for 'the journey' involved in our daily lives - that which are of a scale that cannot possibly be accommodated by only conventional means.