Competitions - Relevant or Redundant?

Perusing ArchDaily the other day, I was struck by an interesting post from Charles Holland, architect and principal of London-based office FAT.

Here is the link: http://www.archdaily.com/80663/dear-other-architects/

Holland tells us that it is a bad idea to enter design competitions. In summary, he suggests that competitions create unnecessary stress and work, that it is silly to give away your work and ideas for free, that working in this way creates a culture of expectation and entitlement amongst the people who would otherwise pay for what you do, and that the entire system of conventions regulating design competitions are inherently flawed.

While I imagine that much of what Holland says is true (as a second year student I don't really have any experience in the brutal world of architecture offices), I thought it might be interesting to give a point-by-point list of how competitions might benefit the architectural profession and people in general, even if there isn't a quantifiable outcome at the end of it.

So: Why design competitions are good. Or at least, why they aren’t bad.

1. It’s like training. Following the brouhaha upon release of Malcom Gladwell’s ‘Outliers’, the figure of ‘10,000 hours’ was banded around by various forms of media as they key to any kind of success. After all – practice makes perfect, right? The same goes for architecture. While a successful outcome is what most people are after in a competition situation, especially if you’re trying to make a buck, design competitions are an opportunity to test elements of process, design and representation that can be used in other projects. So even if an entry isn’t a total success, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the process behind it was a total failure.

2. Exposure. Perhaps the number one reason why firms enter architecture competitions is the chance to get noticed. Take this competition for a museum in Rio de Janeiro for example – even though DS+R were the eventual winners, the work of other entrants is displayed with just as much emphasis. For a younger, smaller firm working its way up through the ranks, there aren’t many better opportunities where architects are able to successfully display their work and ideas at the same level as more established practitioners, to such a wide audience, outside of built work and commissioned projects. http://www.archdaily.com/31828/diller-scofidio-renfro-win-competition-for-the-new-image-and-audio-museum-in-rio-de-janeiro/.

3. Architecture is a discourse. One of Holland’s main points was that we shouldn’t give away our work for free, or work for free on something that we’re just going to give away. Work equals time equals money. This split in priorities – between output and outcome - characterizes the shifting nature of architecture as a profession. The problem occurs when process-driven constructs like competitions become monetized and adversarial. If you view every unit of work as an object to be billed, it seems natural that you would not ‘work’ for ‘free’. However, I’m not entirely sure that it is good to look at the design process as a series of transactions. In order for architecture to progress as a discipline it needs to reflect upon itself and respond to various stimuli outside of the monetary boundaries imposed by an incentivised market system. Ideas are as much the product of discourse as they are a form of currency – one cannot exist without the other. Competitions exist as a platform for such discourse to take place, within and amongst both architects and the wider public sphere. Despite the financial outcomes, competitions are both a discussion a process of elimination.

Admittedly, I only came up three four points to Holland’s thirteen, and perhaps this is all just from an idealistic student. It’s great for me to talk about how great it is to design a space station that critiques deconstructivism and American foreign policy when I don’t have kids to feed and bills to pay. I still think that there is some value in competitions though. It’s important that architecture retains something slightly outside of the real and the everyday to maintain its relevance.

All that said – I also know enough about all-nighters and lack of sleep that I could totally go for a comfortable 9-5, with my boss taking me down to the pub at the end of the day when I’m done with school here.

Double Feature : Part 1 - Architecture for Humanity

Last Thursday, while most of us were in the midst of a 3Ds Max / Excel spreadsheet frenzy, a couple of very intersesting speakers came to the school to provide a two-part lecture highly relevant to the discussions we've been having here on Critters. Alexandra Lee, from Auckland University and Mark Tyrrell, from the University of Sydney spoke about their involvement with two organisations doing some very interesting and worthwhile work across the globe.

Alexandra, who is currently completing her thesis, is part of the Auckland chapter of Architecture for Humanity. The organisation provides design services to communities amidst humanitarian crises, and was sparked by the urgent need for housing for Kosovan refugees in 1999. Acting as a liason between communities, construction industries and policy-makers, the organisation does more than token one-off built gestures and seeks solutions which integrate the communities into the rebuilding process. This is in opposition to the remark that 'architects are often the last people needed in disaster reconstruction', as David Sanderson writes in his article for the Guardian,

"As I was told by a professor when studying some 20 years ago, the role of architects in these circumstances is 'marginal at best'. In fact, most architects are taught almost the exact opposite of what is needed. Architects are taught to focus on the product (a building), whereas humanitarian practitioners major on the process (involving people)."

Architecture for Humanity goes against this stereotype and consults with government bodies and aid organisations, promoting socially conscious design through advocacy and education, strenghtening communication between the beneficiaries and those delivering aid.

In terms of what the Auckland chapter gets up to, from what I inferred from the lecture, it seems to be mainly fundraising and participating in the parallel design competitions which the organisation runs. There's not currently a Wellington chapter, but fellow critter Ms Collinson has been in touch with Alexandra and is keen to get something going. There's plenty of information out there about Architecture for humanity, check out their website for a start. They also edited the book Design Like You Give a Damn, which is well worth a read.

Stay tuned for part 2 : The very interesting Mark Tyrrell on his work for Global Studio : in Diepsloot, South Africa and Bhopal, India.

Te Aro School

Te Aro Primary came up as a possible site for our design build studio. At the moment part of the school (the area I’ve labeled “site”) has been borrowed by the team constructing the new artificial playing field in front of Te Puni. Once the new field has been completed the site will be flattened and turned into a (irregularly shaped) soccer field while the school decides on its future.

As I work part time at the school I’ve managed to have a few chats with the principal, Bryce, and gage his interest in the kind of project we would be doing if the studio were to go ahead. He described the site as a ‘blank canvas’, and seemed fairly excited about the possibility of us being able to provide a genuinely useful service to the school through some sort of intervention. He said probably the most useful thing we could provide would be seating or shelters – however as no real plans for the site have been made, he suggested we come up with a proposal for the site and have the school consider it.

One of the most interesting things Bryce said was that for most school playground upgrades he tries to let the kids have what they want. At some stage he’ll go through a process of collecting student ideas for the site, and then will do the best he can to implement them. As a fun experiment at work the other day I got a few of the young kids (5-6year olds) to draw a play area they’d like to have at the school. There were some pretty rad proposals…the highlights being a drawing clearly influenced by Lebbeus Woods and some sort of animal health care centre/ sci-fi zoo. If this studio went ahead it would be awesome for us to incorporate the students in some way…. not just as one of the ways to fulfill the ‘research’ components to the paper, but to ultimately create a more successful project.

I recommend anyone who’s interested to come and check out the site, it’s really quite cool. The walkway next to it is a node of foot traffic where two or three pathways converge into one, and now that the site is being flattened (it was once elevated) it will make it the same elevation as both the walkway and the new artificial field. This makes the site quite a public area, at least, more publicly visible than any other area of the school. The only thing separating the kids from the uni students / adults walking past is flimsy waist high wire mesh fence. I’m not saying I think that’s a bad thing, it just creates an interesting atmosphere. It’s a boundary that could be addressed by any intervention we made.

Small primary schools, such as Te Aro, generally suffer from a lack of funding. They don’t have a lot of money to spend on maintenance, let alone construction projects and especially designers. Te Aro is distinct from other school’s I’ve been involved with in that the range of ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds the kids come from is SO diverse. It’s a community in itself, and it embodies a lot of the ‘struggling minority’ aspects that have been addressed by Rural Studio type projects. In that sense I can’t think of a more perfect candidate for a design-build studio.

Next steps anyone?
I reckon a site visit on a sunny day needs to happen,
and probably another meeting / chat with whoever to make this actually happen.