In this installment of Cross-Talk #9 — The Architecture Play, Ivan Bernal presents a personal account on how Play could be understood as a way to jump-start the discipline. 

The role of Archinect’s series Cross-Talk is to bring forward the positive aspects of the polemic and allow for the resulting conflict to bring to life an otherwise still and comfortable climate of creativity—if there can be one. Cross-Talk attempts—if to only say that it did—to allow text the freedom that the image has accepted and embraced. Cross-Talk attempts to force the no, to contradict itself, to anger, to please and then anger again, if only to force a stance, to pull out the position of the self, of the discipline and of the hour as a means to begin and maintain conversations moving forward. 

During an Open House event at the College of Architecture and Environmental Design at Kent State, I wanted to briefly explain some possible reasons for studying architecture to the prospective students and their families. Aware of the many preconceptions that a general audience may have about the discipline and architectural education, the expectations they may carry, especially in regard to a program that has a strong professional reputation, I found myself in a situation in which I had to negotiate the differing dimensions of public image, locker room talk, and shared visions that evolve into a whole new category.

Every game is different; it is not just the players that change but the board.   

Moving from questions concerning architectural engineering to the pragmatic inquiry about an average salary after graduation to describing the path to licensure, I kept trying to expand the conversation using cliché statements about the left and the right side of the brain, about analytical vs. creative thinking—whatever that ends up meaning for you. In the end, it is difficult to explain, difficult to put yourself out there in the academic role you may play that day, trying to empathically connect to the want of parents and the desires of young humans. It is tough to excite a thirst in prospective students while trying to assuage parents with secure job assurances. Honestly invested in trying to always be as transparent as possible, as encouraging as needed, and supportive, I am moving from square to square on the checkerboard, combining splinters of insights into my personal research interests with the vision of the school and the realities of the discipline and profession. My answers need to adapt and change from person to person and, I keep imagining, how to set up this game so that all of us in this conversation can get their crosses into (and onto) a line. Every game is different, it is not just the players that change but the board.   

This anxiety to do good by everyone is of course not unique and good educators everywhere struggle with this duty. However, the fluidity introduced into job descriptions and disciplinary definitions in the past years have in turn led to a desire, not only for parents, but for students, and pedagogues to be able to provide clear answers and descriptions; a lifeboat to hang on to while you figure out where to go next. This affects us, academics and professionals within the field, as much as it affects the outside world we are communicating with. We are drawn to making alliances, to simultaneously open the framework while enforcing it; slaves to current tropes and trends, defined by prescribed blends of creativity and of having to pick sides. As a consequence of this anxiety, a multitude of exhibitions, shows, conferences, symposia, and movements have emerged recently, seeking to both represent to the outside and reassure the inside through a constant process of ratification—in publications, through social media, adding lines to CVs. It is understandable to seek power in numbers, to form alliances, even to pick a nemesis, to challenge previous canons, etc. but most importantly it is essential to remember this is all part of the play.

This anxiety to do good by everyone is of course not unique, and good educators everywhere struggle with this duty. 

The word “play,” in its many meanings, is characterized by an elasticity and malleability not unlike that of architecture. At times ephemeral, it carries weight, legacy, and shape; it is primal, and everyone knows it, but it’s not easily definable—although many have and are trying to, always. Architecture may provide a platform for experimentation, for experiences to be made, etc., but it may also become the manifestation of your worst nightmare, negatively impact the environment or your health, it might keep your creative thoughts confined under a leaking roof or it shuts you out altogether; doesn’t want to play with you anymore.

Introducing the Architecture Play. Format, medium, concept, idea, dream, projection, plan, etc. What’s your position? Can we be serious about play the way we can be serious about salary numbers and licensure demands? Why not disperse some of the anxiety of having to fit into the molds or of having to redefine the game by just agreeing on a couple of rules? Inclusivity, respect, open mindedness, the list goes on. Play is there, from an early age, to introduce kids with a fantastical world to explore possibilities of our world, to enact the future or parallel realities. It is not an escape—although it can be, and productive at that—but it helps to put both halves of the brain in conversation, the analytic and the creative. It imagines the future and opens alternatives. It brings people together. Maybe then, it is architecture.