Cross-Talk is a recurring series on Archinect that endeavors to bring architectural polemics and debate up-to-date and up-to-speed with the pace of cultural production today. Each installation will feature an introduction premise along with four responses by four practitioners to a single topic. For this week's iteration, we look at 'Academic Aesthetics'.

As a recent grad, the topic of Academic Aesthetics is one close to memory. However, as I forcefully transitioned myself into the working world, I realized the large disconnect that exists between practice and academia. I think it was within my first two weeks in a new office where I attempted to do a collage and was nearly thrown out of the conference room for it. It began to dawn on me that the methods of representation I used in school were somehow lost in the practicing world. This round of Cross-Talk hopes to bring this into light by addressing not my academic peers—who are all aware of this problem—but instead, a source fully integrated into the process: the client.

Dear Owner, 

We have a problem: renderings are ruining architecture. It seems we have become obsessed with the image of architecture: glossy shots selling an idealized vision. While I understand the rendering has become an efficient tool for portraying what we do for the public at large, it has also become a form of deception, where a finalized end-product replaces an idea-in-progress. Renderings mimic the style of photographs, presenting us with a real, uncompromised version of our designs, yet leave little room for debate. We begin with a finished product, which then causes us to perfect the visuals instead of perfecting the design. When a rendering is too realistic, the conversation shifts away from the concept and onto the details, resulting in the unfortunate and incessant noodling: “make the grass greener, change the color of that guy's shirt, find a better chair, trim the grass,” etc. The image exists at a state separate from the idea, causing architecture to be read just as a graphic. Although realistic renderings are more appealing to those outside the profession, our audience isn’t so much drawn to the architecture, but the atmosphere. Because of this, decreased realism in our drawings would push the focus to the architectural idea, instead of the “fluff.”

If we trace back to our pioneers of representation, there was a correlation in the way they thought to the way they drew. Mies Van Der Rohe, who heavily relied on the use of the collage, was purposefully minimal in his photomontages. He drew planar elements, and through their relationships to one another, could describe the quality of the space and call it, for example, Concert Hall. In a similar effect, Zaha Hadid submitted to the 1982 Peak Leisure Club competition using drawings that perhaps no jury today would understand: abstracted topographical paintings that questioned the constraints of architectural visuals. Or Bernard Tschumi, who proposed the Parc de la Villette in an unconventional manner where landscape and nature were not the dominant focus of the drawings, but instead, his concept of follies and delineated paths were. These techniques redefined how architecture was thought about, both graphically and conceptually. Their drawings were inseparable from their concepts—they were not of architecture, they were architecture. If we look at the state of competitions today, like the recent Guggenheim Helsinki, each entry boasts four to five realistic renderings, begging the question: what’s changed?

The digital tools that have helped propel architectural representation forward have, in a way, also worked against us. As the rise of technology replaced the drawing board, the act of drawing became increasingly archaic. The perfect, photorealistic rendering became far too easy to achieve, thus raising the expectations of our clients, and diminishing the role of drawing as a significant architectural act. The problem in our newfound processing power was that the drawing itself had been compromised by the tools showcasing it. We began producing more at an exponentially increased rate, decreasing the value of the architectural graphic and creating renders that had architecture, yet sometimes no concept.

However, as students, we use drawing as a problem-solving technique, conveying our process of development. Representation has become a project in itself for us; Our drawings reflect the way we think. The drawing exists in a state of flux, constantly changing and evolving, causing us to be spectators as we also become its creator. In this endeavor, the collage has become an essential method in creating atmospheres out of an architectural idea. The collage builds a curated experience, with symbolic and multi-layered images explaining the stories behind a space, creating an interpretative process for the viewer. Collages push the design forward because of its efficiency in production and flexibility of the technique. It also is a form of research, requiring the gathering of material through the infinite library of the internet. This method is an attempt to reclaim the drawing as the stage where an architectural idea is set, the medium in which to explore conceptual ideas.

The collage, and the other methods we use in school allow us to tell stories and convey the spirit of a design, leaving the discussion open for other ideas and input.

The representation methods we use in school are tools for architectural exploration, where the process is valued over product; it is worth your time to develop the ability to read them. The architect’s role has diminished since the days of the 50s’, where there was a greater relationship and level of trust between the architect and the client. Today, our position has been eclipsed by consultants at every stage of the process and contractor-led deals; the architect has been sidelined. I’m proposing a closer working relationship, one in which we can detach ourselves from the reality of a rendering, and discuss architectural ideas through other representation techniques, such as the collage. 

Representation has become a project in itself for us- our drawings reflect the way we think. The drawing exists in a state of flux, constantly changing and evolving, causing us to be spectators as we also become its creator.

Whereas Hadid and Tschumi, for example, submitted their work to other architects, our audience today has changed; we talk about architecture to people who are not architects. Renderings, however, don’t have to be the only way to communicate our intentions. The collage, and the other methods we use in school allow us to tell stories and convey the spirit of a design, leaving the discussion open for other ideas and input. Firms like Point Supreme, Office KGDVS, and Fala Atelier are all architects who use the collage to initiate a design dialogue with the client. While I might not have the answer for how these techniques translate into larger-scale projects, I’m asking for a middle ground: where is the meeting point for architect and client? As famed architect and historian Robin Evans would say, “For architecture, even in its pretended autonomy, there is one unfailing communicant, and that is the drawing”.

Best,

The Architect