Architecture, Cycling and Transgression

1

It’s struck me recently just how alike architecture and cycling are, in the manner that they are practised. They each have a categorical method of practice that is absolutely clear – but only to those that are familiar with their unspoken, unwritten code of conducts (and I don’t mean all that RIBA guff). Step millimetrically across the invisible line on to the other side, and howls of derision will meet you. It takes a while to become accustomed – but once you’re there, oh, the delicious security of the conventions of a small group.

I remember when I started cycling years ago, I thought I’d mastered the art of belonging. Custom fillet brazed steel frame? Check. Period Italian gruppo? Check. Valves aligned with tyre logos? Check.

Oh, how we loved being so right. Oh, the smugness of those (us!) in the know. Oh, the derision when someone transgressed our mean little codes. Gosh, how we sniggered when someone turned up on a bike that they – wait for it – had bought from a shop. A SHOP! Not just a massed produced bike, but one with Japanese gears, and a frame made from plastic somewhere in the Far East! (Well, he called it carbon fibre, but we all sneered that it was plastic, and didn’t he know that bikes were supposed to be made from metal?).

I remember too when someone turned up with a saddle bag, someone else with a pump attached to their frame, and someone, once, with a mountain bike visor attached to their helmet.  My God, how we laughed.  Even though many of us have become a little more accommodating over the years – or if not accommodating, maybe a little more understanding – we still size up every other cyclist from several hundred yards away, and work out whether to acknowledge them with our knowing little half nod.

And you know what? Architecture is just like this. Gosh, how we all embraced those codes and conventions in every aspect of our lives when we were students. I remember when one of our Tutors turned up in a Japanese car – a fucking Daihatsu Charade! We never, ever, took him seriously again. How stupid could he be? How unknowing? Wasn’t this in part what architectural education was? Teaching us how to belong – and if a tutor couldn’t teach us this, what on earth else was there? Everyone knew there were only a few cars you could have. An early DS19 (with the right lights, and preferably the right bike on the roof) was the one to have if you could afford it. An old Mercedes W123 if you couldn’t. And a Peugeot 404 if you couldn’t afford that. Or, last stop, a 504. Almost nothing else, even if you didn’t give a shit about cars. But you couldn’t not give a shit, because, well, you were an architect, no?

Back to buildings though. I’m so pleased I’ve been reminded us that there’s property, and there’s architecture, and fuck me, they must never, ever, meet.  I’m so glad he reminded us, because I slipped up. I’d imagined that maybe this thing we called architecture could be opened up a little bit, in much the same way that the transgressions I’ve been making recently as a cyclist have been making me a little happier. You know what? I went for a ride recently with someone who had a mass produced, shop bought bike, and guess what? I wasn’t tainted by his gaucheness. Au contraire, I had a great time, and discovered that even someone who transgressed our codes could be a human being.

I’ve made a few similar transgressions in architecture, recently, and bloody hell, it’s fun. I’d almost go as far as saying it is life affirming. Usually, we can only make these transgressions if we can somehow aestheticise them – think the poverty-porn images of Rural Studio’s inhabited buildings (yup, I love ‘em too) which show us that it’s fine to open up architecture, as long we can get a cool image.

But generally, if we open our door a chink and attempt to have a wider conversation about whether or not architecture can go beyond the pages of the journals, if we dare to speak of it in terms that people (yes, people!) can understand – ooh, the howls of protest! That’s the wrong type of transgression. That’s the type of transgression that our once great profession needs protecting from. And maybe that’s right. Maybe we need to keep it as a little group of self-serving practitioners, speaking in code, acknowledging each other with our knowing little half nod, preaching to the converted. Maybe. I’m not convinced. But I’m going to try and find out.

 

P.S. Alison Smithson? Yup she got it. Wrong lights though.

1 Comment

Categories Articles Tags

Right Back At You, Rory.

4

Rory Olcayto makes a good point in the AJ (25 Sept) about the state of the profession. Much of what many of us ever get to do is ‘fiddle round the edges’ and limit damage, hoping we can smuggle some architecture in when no one’s looking. Most of what I’ve done for 20 years or so is fiddling around the edges, because that’s the bread and butter of small practice – you take what comes and try to make the most of it. I suspect the AJ is pretty immune from what the reality of small practice is for many of us who need to earn a living from what we do.

There’s a curious snobbery in the profession, though, that we’re supposed to be having a certain type of conversation, with a certain type of people. People that get ‘architecture’. I’ve been part of this conversation, and there’s not much there. I’ve sniggered too, at those poor ordinary people, those poor people who don’t speak our language. I’ve sniggered too at Grand Designs and all those makeover shows in the past, worried that it’s dumbing down this great profession of ours. I’ve been horrified too at the commodification of our profession, where our divine wisdom can be bought and sold or, worse, bestowed on ordinary people. I’ve run appalled and tainted back to the comfort of my ivory tower. It’s a pretty scary world out there Rory, and I’m with you, up to a point. Much better to put our blinkers on and pretend that we’re doing something significant or worthwhile because, well, it’s architecture, innit?

But more recently, in the desire to escape from this rarified world, and bored of all the conversations I was having, I’ve been wondering if there was a different type of conversation to be had. One that moved away form the hallowed pages of the journals or the vainglorious academic institutions, into (whisper it) the mainstream. I’ve started a conversation that attempted to engage these ordinary, non design literate people. I was interested to know if I was able to have a conversation that could be had on their terms, not mine. This is the conversation we’ve been having in £100k house, and by god, I can tell you, it’s a shed load more interesting that most of the conversations that I’m supposed to be having.

I’ve seen first hand how making the most modest change to a poor piece of design can transform a building for the owners. I’ve seen the cynical shit that most of this country are fed by their draftspeople, and I’ve seen first hand the extraordinary transformation in the quality of these people’s lives that can be made by a few small changes. I’ve seen how people can become empowered through taking control over their environment and making their house moderately better. Yup, I’ve had to swallow my pride, but many of us forget that architecture is something that the significant majority of this country are allowed no access to. The only thing that stops them from exposure to architecture is us. If I can possibly help change that in any way – well, that feels pretty good.

4 Comments

Categories 100k house, Articles Tags

The House That £100k Built

3

For the last year or so, I’ve been working as a presenter on the BBC 2 series £100k House with Kieran Long and Endemol. It’s been a fascinating journey, and fantastic to see how design can affect the lives of ordinary people. There are six episodes, each an hour long, all focusing on a different self build for less than £100k. The contributors are people with no self build experience and are not, typically, people who have historically prioritised design.

However, what has been extraordinary has been to see how design has the power to affect the lives of ordinary people. We’ve shown the contributors some exceptional buildings, and talked about how they might make their own buildings better through lessons learned from these exemplars.

Overwhelmingly, each contributor has, during the process of their build, become empowered to rise to the challenge of not just building cheaply, but building well – two things that we haven’t been very good at in the UK in recent years. They haven’t made design masterpieces in the conventional sense – this show isn’t property porn, and making one off design masterpieces isn’t the point – the point has been to prise architecture and design from the hands of the converted, and bring it into the realm of the mainstream and the affordable, and show how it can change the lives of ordinary people for the better.

It’s already been dubbed Modest Designs  – before it’s even aired. It’s invigorating to see what a chord the issues have struck with people bored with the same programmes, where design is presented as a luxury add-on for the lucky few. The buildings in this series have a quiet and straightforward  dignity. As Kieran said – there’s potentially a world where architects could act more like general practitioners serving the general public with straightforward and sound advice, rather than the rarified and exclusive world in which many of us architects tend to operate.

Piers Taylor and Kieran Long discussing the House that £100k Built on BBC Breakfast HERE

The first series begins on BBC2 on 18th September at 8.00pm.

3 Comments

Categories 100k house Tags