For last year’s words belong to last year’s language And next year’s words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.
T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”Inujima, Ecoculture Island introduces a sustainable energy and food production system that serves visitors during the island’s on-season art festival and exports during the off-season, for the goal of creating an environment at the intersection of nature, art and sustainability.
Inujima is an island of solid granite in the Seto Inland Sea of Japan. The first source of inspiration were the different erosion processes that happen naturally in granite. We looked at this geologic wearing away in three different scales: tafoni at the smallest scale, where water nestles into the surface and pushes outwards to create pockets and dense lattice-like patterns. Tidal pools are a slightly larger expression of this erosion, in which small pools catch and flood as the tide changes and become home to dynamic micro-ecosystems. Finally at the largest scale, we looked at granite boulders that are formed by wind and rain and result in large sculptural formations.
Introducing these textures onto the island created pockets that catch rainwater and tidal water. Water flows in its natural way, responding to gravity, wind, and sun. It responds to and influences the topography it runs through.
Existing conditions : island uses and circulation
Undeveloped zone
Arts and culture zone
Natural recreational zone
Transportation zone
Residential zone
Intervention areas
Interventions
Right: Diagrammatic representation of the systems at play on Inujima
A: Tourism related to Setouchi Art Triennale
B: Aquaponics yield
C: Demand for geothermal heating and cooling
D : Hydroponics yield
E: Tidal energy
Below: Diagrammatic representation of the water cycle and points at which systems interact with the cycle
An organizational logic was extracted from the various scales of tafoni pockets to serve different purposes on the island. These formations then form a sort of organic grid that we apply to the site in order to create a dynamic circulation into our focus area on the northwest side of the island. By using different scales we are able to create different levels of experience of the island.
As our project developed we became interested in introducing a secondary grid to contrast with the organic site strategy. Further, because our focus area is on a quarry site, the more orthogonal geometry lends well to using the large blocks of granite that are cut from the island. Controlled geometries of hydroponic systems are intercepted by the looser evolution of tafoni expressions of artistic spaces.
The goal of these interventions is to be sustainable and compatible with the existing island infrastructurally, economically and ecologically. Geothermal heating and cooling is utilized by using a standing column well to heat the tanks used for onshore aquaculture farming of tilapia. Heat is gathered from the heat pump exchange beneath the water table and brought up through pumps and piping to a radiant heat flooring system to heat the water and building. About 95 % of water is able to be recirculated in tilapia farming, but the remaining waste water and solid waste generated will be sent to the aquaponics systems which the plants will use as nutrients to grow and clean the water. Harvest from the aquaponics will additionally be able to be used to feed the fish. Our aquaponics system will be operated seasonally, meaning that different crops will be grown during different
seasons to respect the emphasis on seasonality in Japanese cuisine. It also reflects the importance of time and cycles of use that has been present on Inujima since the inception of the Setouchi Art Triennale. The infrastructure of the island can respond to the demands of the influx of visitors to be self-sustaining during its on-season, and has the ability to export goods during the off season.
Dissecting and analyzing these processes influenced how our tectonic system works in tandem with the ecological systems. Heavy orthogonal structures are broken down with tafoni interruption. Paths come together and blend into one, but then diverge as distinct moments. The topography itself flows with the paths, rising and falling so the experience of the island can feel natural and explorative, and the buildings are embedded into the ground, with terracing that stretches around and over the buildings. The tafoni intervention accommodates this topography by creating access points and different levels and a flow from inside to outside in the galleries.
The orthogonal terracing and buildings speak to the existing granite quarry landscape, while the organic geometry reflects our site strategy and intervention, drawing from tafoni as a type of granite erosion. We see this on multiple levels, both in the paths and zones that organize the whole island, as well as our focus area which brings a new program integrating both art, science, food production, and landscaping to an underutilized retired quarry.
with Honor Weatherall
A design program primarily engineered for the machine needs the architect to protect the human scale. Our site on Vernon Boulevard is surrounded by urban dichotomies: the Queensboro Bridge and the New York Architectural Terracotta building, the Queensbridge houses and the morning shadows of the residential towers in Long Island City, Queensbridge Park and industrial parks. The site itself will contain an imperfect dichotomy between a waste to energy plant / recycling center and an urban farm / community center. The square footage is necessarily dominated by the former, but the experience remains filtered through the eyes of the latter. It is our desire to dignify the waste to energy process out of respect for the community it will serve and design. The site is located on the waterfront where framed views of Roosevelt Island to the West, Manhattan in the southwestern distance and neighboring Queens to the north and south can be found. This organization can then inform pathways and openings; bringing the site back to the community and those who will inhabit it.
Honor and I conducted interviews with visitors to Queensbridge Park, to find out more about why they chose to settle in Long Island City to gain a better understanding of the community and how best to serve it. Emilio had just moved to this neighborhood about six months ago from Corona he noted “the fact that it’s very central in Queens, the location, it’s just like, you can’t beat it. I’m close to Woodside, I’m close to Jackson Heights, Sunnyside - If I wanna go to Brooklyn it’s right there and if I wanna go to Manhattan.” Brent lives “at the base of the Queensboro bridge, it’s all kind of luxury high rises and it doesn’t feel like there’s a lot of space for community engagement, or for people to get together - this park is great, it’s a little bit of a walk though - there’s not really anything like this over there - so I feel like this area could use things like that - spaces where people can gather. It doesn’t feel like how the more intimate neighborhoods of New York feel like.”
After telling Kevin, another interviewee, about the proposed waste to energy program he had this to say, “this area has a lot of families and a lot of kids as well - and so maybe having an educational component geared towards children is really helping ‘cause that brings children and their parents and they then have the park to play in - it could be really fun - ‘cause even when we walk down to the ferry, all families after 5 o’clock it’s like the dog parks are filled etc. - so maybe something geared towards kids and dogs.”
Formally, we were interested in exploring the capacity of the arch to expand and retract according to spatial requirements while keeping with a language that is present in the site in the Queensboro Bridge approach to the river. Organization of the program is divided into two. The northern half is designed for streamlined truck delivery of waste to the site and the processes to handle the waste. The southern half prioritizes the human experience and, on the street side, has a large and welcoming lobby while on the riverside one is greeted by an urban farm. This division of space is interrupted at several nodes throughout the buildings by pathways that allow observation of the waste plants at key moments in the processes as well as integration of them into the community. Informing residents and other visitors of the waste treatment happening in their neighborhood is key to having a center worthy of the community. Access from the river connects our site’s riverfront to the Queensbridge park by another elevated pathway and a clear line of vision to the green beyond.
Robin Piatt Stegman
Public housing should prioritize equity and dignity for all of the residents who reside there. With this scheme, we intend to offer agency to residents by providing them spaces that they can make their own--through transformation and cultivation within the greenhouses as well as the adaptability of the units to create ideal living spaces at each interval of life. This building is meant to be a home and a gateway for the community to connect the Farragut Houses to the urban fabric of Brooklyn.
When considering the complimentary program, we knew that adding density to the site would inevitably reduce available green space. We wanted to address this by incorporating green space into the building’s design. However, since this is New York, where winter is long and cold and dark, we wanted to make sure that this green space was accessible all year round. The greenhouses that crawl up the side of the building have a folding mechanism within the panels, allowing them to accordion up. The green spaces are open air during the warmer months, but enclosed, and heated gardens during the winter. With a multitude of possible uses for the greenhouses, residents would have agency in how they engaged with and made use of the greenhouses--an agency that is present in the physical form.
Agency and transformation extends to the units themselves. We want this building to be a place that families can comfortably call home for many years, but the needs of a family shift over time. Therefore, just as the greenhouse panels fold and move, so do the partitions within the apartments. All of the apartments in the building consist of a two bedroom unit
adjoined with a one bedroom, with separate entryways from the corridor. Within the units, the central partition can be folded away, creating a larger three bedroom unit, with room to reconfigure the individual spaces.
Finally, in the context of Farragut, we wanted the building to be inviting rather than imposing. At 25 stories, it appears fairly tall next to the other residences on the site. Therefore, with the slatted and glass facade design, we intend to let the building blend and disappear into its surroundings. In addition, despite its height, we wanted to make it appear almost floating, employing a large, cantilever structure. The structure itself is based around long diagonal columns that cut through the building, anchored on two “legs.” Throughout the building, these diagonals add interesting and varied moments as they pass through the units.
Adding a new building to a site as complex as Farragut is a delicate challenge. With this building, we hope to supplement the existing facilities, create new ways for new and existing residents to engage with green spaces, and re imagine how the apartment can be designed to place the needs and agency of the occupant at its forefront.
I like to think that I was introduced to architecture through language. I have always loved to read, and in another life I might have possibly been a reclusive writer or a hostess of a literary salon. My first serious dive into language was an independent study in high school about the beat generation of poetry. I was taken with this idea that each generation has their own language. In my undergraduate studies I conducted a thesis on a later generation of poets, the graffiti writers of 1970s New York. I questioned the authenticity of its continuation in the present day in the form of murals, beautification, and community involvement. Painted walls are ultimately a communication; between public and private space, the voices of citizens to the voices of architects, urban planners and politicians that shape their city. The layering and ephemerality of art on the street is a testament to the ever nascent identity of a city.
I took the opportunity to continue my research into language and its relationship to architecture during my graduate studies at Pratt. Language and cities are generally thought of and written about as two great achievements of humankind. What do we destroy when we reconstruct the Tower of Babel? Is the consequence of this privilege and power ultimately loneliness? In the words of Jorge Luis Borges’ steward of the unending Library of Babel: “if an eternal traveler were to cross it in any direction, after centuries he would see that the same volumes were repeated in the same disorder (which, thus repeated, would be an order: the Order). My solitude is gladdened by this elegant hope” (1964, 59). If the richness of biodiversity disappears, if the richness of languages fades into a singular global one, what happens to their architectures?
The biology and evolution of language, the trouble we have in thinking about it philosophically and the ease we have with using it as an analogy: all are aspects of language that play with each other and affect my way of understanding the role it plays in architecture and design. How do the implicit ways we think about language and ecosystems affect how we think about the possibilities of our city? Too often, our designs as architects are put out with a fair amount of research and a hope to serve a community, but without any real engagement with that community (without actually speak-
ing to them, asking them what they want). The result is architecture that is presumptuous and bound to get something wrong. It is imperative to try again.
Recognizing that architecture is ultimately a language and that language means communication. Communication is the key to all relationships and I believe that all design should start with an open and honest conversation. It is important to understand what drives a client, as well as being in touch with my own motivations. I am motivated by curiosity and creativity. I want to see a world that is more balanced, peaceful, and flexible. Architecture has an important role in the steps towards a more just and equitable society and it is my goal to always be taking steps in the right direction. I am dedicated to serving my communities not just through design but by giving time and resources to other lifelines: green spaces, youthful spaces, and spaces where democratic dialogue occurs.
I am interested in the intersections of language, architecture, urbanism and education. Education is the key to freedom, and as bell hooks said, “to educate is the practice of freedom.” I have been so fortunate in my life to have received a great education, and I began in graduate school to research inequalities in education, especially in the public education system in New York City. Through experiences working as a teaching assistant at the Consortium for Research and Robotics and an elective study at Pratt on the public school system I was able to learn more about students’ experiences and provide resources to technology and introduce relationships between the students and mentors.
I think a lot about what makes a good teacher and student. Autonomy, collaboration and critical thinking, but above all communication is key to creating engaging and inspiring relationships. How to have uncomfortable conversations, how to speak to someone different from yourself, these are important lessons often learned in school. Not to mention everything we learn in languages unspoken.
The transformation of house to studio is based on two poetic qualities: rhythm and structure. Respectively equated with line and mass, I explored these concepts architecturally. My study began with the existing interior divisions and exterior envelope of the house. I kept these footprints as guides for the transformations to come. I altered the structure of the building with variations in massing of the envelope. I interrupted the rhythm by inserting apertures of my own line and light on the facade.
The program was inspired by the historical tradition of performance of the word in amphitheater spaces. I designed my own vision of an amphitheater, formed by the ideas surrounding the mythic circle. The central space takes up the entirety of the house, but the cyclical line is freed from expectation when it reaches the threshold of the envelope. There, the line is free to move. The lines become gaps and let the light in. Light becomes the unifying quality, the anaphora that spreads within and without. My treatment of the site follows a similar language of following existing contours and altering by subtleties. The rectilinear components that the ground has been translated to are reminiscent of the same interior divisions that I began the project with, and follow the elevation changes of the land, creating a landscape that is navigable while remaining open to interpretation.
FALL 2022 | REBECCA KRUCOFF | CAN SUCUOGLU
Mindful of the many walks of life that students in the public school system in New York come from, I wanted to create an architectural sequence for a middle school in Sunset Park that did not impose a path for the students but rather offered them multiple paths and let them make their own most efficient, entertaining, or social able way through the building.
I designed three main ways of moving throughout the building—weaving in and out of the programmatic requirements and encouraging students to go their own way. If we want our spaces to inspire us, we need the autonomy to move through them freely.
During my explorations with the sequence of circulation — I refined the program to frame perspectives that lend themselves to an episodic experience of the building. The buildings opens itself up on the inside to the natural light without, and interior elements respond to one another. The resulting spaces are most simply delineated as solids and voids, and the interstitial spaces that the circulation carved from them. The scheme drew inspiration from the many scales of the city, how they may be interpreted and represented. Especially in how one student may navigate them.
The educational modules serve to keep education accessible in times of conflict, residential modules provide housing for families or for students who find themselves alone, and the agricultural modules will be a source of skills learning and economic growth for Ukrainian women. They will be able to cultivate traditional agricultural techniques in the greenhouses and learn new technological skills as well as grow food in the vertical farms. Women will be able to establish economic independence for themselves, their families, and their communities by participating in ownership of the vertical farms. The education, independence, and empowerment women gain will contribute in immeasurable ways to the rebuilding of Ukraine.
Ukraine is known as the breadbasket of Europe, and the reason for this is due to its high concentration of chernozem “black earth” soil which has 10% more organic matter than other soils, contributing to higher fertility. Almost half of all of Ukrainian exports are agricultural, but these exports were diminished by half since the start of the Russian invasion. The decrease has millions more worldwise suffering from food insecurity, the global numbers are more than double what they were in 2019. In response to the global food insecurity that the war in Ukraine has fuelled, the United Nations sponsered the Black Sea Grain Initiative which put three out of thirteen ports back in operation with specific routes to be protected. However, this initiative has been only partially successful because low income, devolping countries receive the least amount of grain putting already vulnerable communities even more at risk.
Our studio’s goal was to create a modular educational platform that could be ordered and shipped wherever it was needed. Understanding the variables that respond to different users’ and sites’ needs was a critical component in designing for the organization and connection of the modules on site. To the left is a visual representation of two Grasshopper scripts, constructed by our resident Grasshopper expert, Shuai Liu. The idea is that users’ would input their needs based on the number of people they expect to serve and information about the site for the script to then run a series of operations that results in many different iterations of the modules organization and orientation on site. These can be weighted to prioritize either daylighting or privacy, two parameters that we identified as having a critical importance towards shaping the modules’ organization. The data generated from the first script is then exported to an excel sheet and imported back into a second script that lets the user visualize the different iterations and filter by prioritizing sunlight hours, privacy, grouping, or density. It is then up to them to decide on a final iteration and the corresponding modules to be shipped out to meet them.
From a single glass dining plate to a vessel, this study in cold working glass was a transformation of singular elements to create a whole greater than the sum of its parts. The vessel was formed from both additive and subtractive processes and simple geometrical transformations.
As the lines blur between mother and child in the anatomical structures of pregnancy, so the lines blur between inside and outside in double skin facade architectural systems. Studying the two together results in rich poetical and structural comparisons.
The technology of a double skin was developed to add another layer of protection for the internal environment from the external climate. It creates a more comfortable space to be in while requiring less energy to do so. The space between inside and outside is neither here nor there, defined by being in between. Might this space be expanded to play additional roles?
The womb protects and nurtures the baby throughout pregnancy. The placenta acts as the interstitial space between mother and child, delivering nutrients to the baby from the mother’s bloodstream and taking away its waste. The placenta forms from attaching itself to the mother’s uterine wall and the baby’s umbilical cord arises from it. I was inspired by this layered organ and the applications to architecture that may arise from studying its formation and functions as they may apply to double skins. Some consider the placenta an “alter ego;” that every baby may be considered a twin. People have buried their placenta next to trees, or held it around their waist throughout their lives. It is a sort of shadow presence, yet all important to our lives.
