Micro apartments are the future, encouraging their inhabitants to buy less, use fewer resources, and live in a more streamlined, minimal way. Which is exactly why they were featured in both last and this month’s Metropolis (It’s a Small World); they presage new ways for us to live, and the concurrent design challenges inherent to them. While tiny apartments aren’t exactly news in some urban areas, the newest versions clock in at anywhere from 140 square feet (Microsoft-adjacent apodments in Redmond, Washington) to a more typical 420 square feet, (recently approved in San Francisco) to 370 square feet (largest micro apartments in NYC).

But what about REALLY micro apartments?

In Hong Kong, one of the most densely populated cities in the world (with rents some 35% higher than in New York City) about 100,000 people, including families, live 40 square-foot spaces (I don’t think most of us would qualify them as ‘apartments’), as depicted in these arresting photographs from the city’s Society for Community Organization (above and below):

Most of us, no matter where we live, will question if those spaces are big enough for one person, let alone a family. But it definitely begs the question, how small is “too small”? How do we arrive at the minimum sizes for a dwelling?  A confab among city planners, designers, potential residents and maybe even sociologists or anthropologists is needed here.

In New York City, as in most cities, the minimum apartment size was set by zoning laws. In 1987, the smallest a new apartment could be was set at 400 square feet (older, smaller places were grandfathered in). For mayor Bloomberg to introduce the small apartment plans that he did, he had to get special zoning permissions. The same is true for San Francisco, Philadelphia, Redmond, Washington and other cities with micro spaces; they have to be designed and sold as a specific type of dwelling to meet a specific need. Indeed, as the original article points out, most of them have space-saving built-in appliances and closets, and often, high ceilings, so space is utilized intelligently and encourages openness and comfort. They aren’t just small, but smartly so.

Ultimately, it’s the designers who determined these apartments’ sizes (which were then approved and vetted by public housing officials and the public, during exhibitions and competitions for the best design). They are, truly, crowd sourced apartments, both in size and layout. But why not let the market determine the apartment sizes?

This seems like it might work until you read through the comments on many of these micro apartment stories online. What one person calls a micro-apartment, another calls a tenement. But tenements were about small spaces being used to house families (closer to the Hong Kong examples, above), and a large proportion of city dwellers no longer live in a family unit; in NYC in 2009, 33% of people lived in their apartments alone, and 17% contained couples sans kids – but yet there’s a glut of 2- and 3-bedroom apartments for family units. All those singles and couples desperately need smaller (read: more affordable, and more suited to their lifestyles) places, but there are only 100,000 studios and one-bedrooms available in NYC—their scarcity then drives their prices higher than they should be.

As Jerilyn Perine, executive director of the Citizens Housing and Planning Council told channel Thirteen’s Metrofocus, “The housing market can’t possibly keep up with the population growth we’re projecting. This idea that adding to the housing supply by continually adding housing for families doesn’t address the underlying needs. This need is increasingly finding its way onto the underground housing market.”

Micro apartments offer a solution to the problem. But the majority of people will always want more space (see the upsetting New York Times article about elderly folks living in large, subsidized apartments, refusing to give them up). And for many, living in a small space is a question of prior experience. If you grew up in a suburban house, a micro apartment can seem “too small.” But for someone who has lived in a studio for years, it might seem plenty large enough (and some people, as in the Hong Kong example, are willing and able to live in too-small spaces if they aren’t regulated away from that). So maybe designers and city planners are the best final arbiters on apartment size, since it seems that other approaches, like letting developers or renters themselves decide, has so far resulted in ineffective solutions.

Starre Vartan is an author, journalist, and artist whose work concentrates on sustainability in consumer products, including a focus on vernacular, nature-based, and eco design. Recognized as a green living expert, she is the publisher of Eco-chick.com, a columnist at MNN.com, and contributes to Inhabitat and The Huffington Post. She is Metropolis’s copyeditor.

As the senses continue to absorb new information, intersecting and roiling the currents of thought and memory flowing through a mind, networks in the brain are actively structuring the multiplying messages into coherent relationships – an order – so that decisions can be made and action taken with convictions about the outcome.

Sorting out the input

Finding “order” is a primal response to environments. We crave the pleasure of exploring complexity, but with it, the rewarding experience of recognizing, simplifying, and organizing perceptions into practical patterns we can understand and live by. And we’re good at it. Each of us has, at our own level, a kind of “structural intelligence” – just as we have a musical or social or mechanical intelligence. Facing discrete, concrete perceptions we are able to sort out similarities, differences, categories, connections, and associations, and then imagine them structured into unified pictures. In built environments that may mean coherent styles, fashions, hierarchies, narratives or legible pathways. It always means theories, too, the abstractions and generalizations needed, in the absence of enough facts, to understand, plan and predict. And in practice day-to-day, our predilection for order is so strong that we are willing to work with quick scans, plausible hunches, or a “best fit” to impose patterns on disorder and surprises. We want clarity; we need an answer; we need to reduce uncertainties; and given a few clues we guess, infer or imagine the rest, move ahead, and search for reassurance in repetitions and redundancy. It’s a way we can sense we’re in control, and it’s an essential survival skill.

Experiments in Gestalt psychology and its principles of perception – part of the conventional wisdom of the design professions for decades now – have demonstrated the predisposition in most of us to find orderly patterns and see things “whole” – like we see ourselves. Confronting fragmented, ambiguous visual images, we tend to connect points, extend lines, and fill in gaps.  In our imagination and with “optical illusions” we assemble whatever minimal clues are available into conventional, or at least recognizable, complete forms and functional flows. And as we infer a closure – seeing what “ought” to be – we, ourselves become more engaged and our projected presence enlivens a design.

Specifically the Gestalt and related experiments have shown a propensity to assemble shapes and patterns into the basic geometrical shapes spelled out in ancient Greek culture – or following the same basic principles, in organic patterns, like a tree, watershed or a body structure – with boundaries, centers, symmetries, rhythms, and harmonic relationships. Further, on the way to constructing a “whole” we tend to organize complex places into two, three, four or five connected, coherent segments, or “chunks” of sorted out categories, in order to accommodate the limits of a working memory. These propensities are most evident in classical designs, where such things as grids or symmetrical and three-part or five-part vertical and horizontal compositions connected by axes tend to frame the distinctive, settled clarity of its recurring styles.

Amsterdam canal life – the “signature” settlement pattern – a meeting of land and water – as the perceived order of a city

These specific responses are explored further in later pages, but the point here is that our sensory systems tend to channel sensations into basic patterns that were prepared as the mind evolved.  We seem to naturally sort out spatial information into stories – we’re all born story-tellers – and maps-of-our-known-world in such image-of-the-city perceptions as Kevin Lynch’s edges, paths, nodes, districts, and landmarks. Or we may organize perceptions of a city into its “signature”, fundamental settlement pattern, like the meeting of land and water along the canals of Venice or Amsterdam. And beyond that, we take pleasure in finding the order in unifying themes that can anchor a large and diverse place to our purposes or memories – and into longer patterns of space and time. We see themes everywhere and assign picturesque names based on the geography of “hill-country” or “lake country” or the urban ambience that emerged – like New Orleans’ “Garden District,” and “French Quarter,” or the urban paradise of the “Champs Élysées.”

We celebrate order, too, dedicating land and resources to landmarks whose function is to symbolize a surviving social or political structure – like a triumphal arch that records victory over the out-of-control chaos of war, or in older European cities, “plague columns” that celebrated the healing of a shattered society, linking it back to the timeless order of divine protection. And today we are just as likely to build a holocaust museum memorializing the opposite – an out-of-control, destructive brutality that’s inherent in human nature – a work of art dramatizing and clarifying the tragedy of dis-order and our dis-jointed restlessness in the face of what seems like a broken world. Read more…

Congo Street Initiative, Dallas, TX. Courtesy of Congo Street Initiative

As an architect and advocate for better urban environments, I am excited about my new role as director of the Rudy Bruner Award for Urban Excellence at the Bruner Foundation (Cambridge, MA). The biennial award, founded in 1987 by architect and adaptive reuse pioneer Simeon Bruner, recognizes places distinguished by innovative design and their social, economic, and environmental contributions to the urban environment. To date, the RBA has recognized 67 projects and awarded $1.2 million to support urban initiatives.

In the world of U.S. design competitions, the RBA is unique. We ask our applicants to submit detailed written analyses of their projects—from multiple perspectives—along with descriptive images. And entries must have been in operation long enough to demonstrate their impact on their communities. Our  selection process includes intensive site visits to our finalists’ projects to help us fully understand how their places work.

Inspiration Kitchens, Chicago, IL. Courtesy of Inspiration Kitchens

The RBA selection committee meets twice: first to select five finalists and again to select the Gold Medal winner. Assembled anew for each award cycle, the committee comprises six urban experts including a mayor, design and development professionals, and a past award winner. This year’s group includes mayor Mick Cornett of Oklahoma City, planner Ann Coulter from Chattanooga, landscape architect Walter Hood from Hood Studio in Oakland, architect Cathy Simon from Perkins+Will in San Francisco, Metropolis Editor-in-Chief Susan S. Szenasy, and Jane Werner, executive director of the Children’s Museum of Pittsburgh, the 2007 Gold Medal winner. The committee reviewed 90 applications from 31 states and the District of Columbia to choose the 2013 five finalists. Collectively, the projects they chose represent a diversity of creative, collaborative approaches and scales in tackling significant urban challenges:

• Congo Street Initiative - Dallas, TX - submitted by buildingcommunityWORKSHOP
  The sustainable rehabilitation of five houses and street infrastructure along with construction of a new home that provided transitional housing, in collaboration with resident families
• Inspiration Kitchens – Chicago, IL – submitted by Inspiration Corporation
  An 80-seat restaurant providing free meals to working poor families and market-rate meals to the public as well as workforce training and placement
• Louisville Waterfront Park – Louisville, KY – submitted by Louisville Waterfront Development Corporation
  An 82-acre urban park developed over more than two decades that reconnects the city with the Ohio River
• The Steel Yard - Providence, RI – submitted by Klopfer Martin Design Group
  The redevelopment of an abandoned, historic steel fabrication facility into a campus for arts education, workforce training, and small-scale manufacturing
• Via Verde - Bronx, NY – submitted by Jonathan Rose Companies and Phipps Houses
  A 222-unit, LEED Gold certified, affordable housing development in the Bronx designed as a model for healthy and sustainable urban living

Louisville Waterfront Park, Louisville, KY. Courtesy of Louisville Waterfront Park

Read more…

350 Mission, courtesy Skidmore, Owings & Merrill

It’s the New Year, but here in San Francisco (to quote that great American philosopher, Yogi Berra) it’s déjà vu all over again. After a year of growing optimism about the economy, I feel a dot-com fever coming on. Apartments and even condos are rising all around South of Market (SoMa), the hub of the city’s tech industry—and we’re following new commercial leases like celebrity marriages. Did you hear? Salesforce just signed an agreement for all 27 floors of 350 Mission, a Skidmore, Owings & Merrill-designed tower now in construction. This topped off a year of big moves in SoMa by Twitter, Square, Zynga, Yammer, Airbnb and other tech darlings. According to reports, the demand is driving some owners of Class A office buildings to strip vacant floors back to the structure in hopes of boosting their “creative space” appeal.

350 Mission, courtesy Skidmore, Owings & Merrill

Like their dot-com predecessors, this new cast of entrepreneurs prizes SoMa’s stock of historic mid-rise, light-industrial buildings. Those around Third and Brannan Streets are considered some of the hottest properties in the city (or so I’m told by friends fretting over looming lease renewals). In the gnarlier corner of SoMa where I share an office space, itself a dot-com relic, anticipation is running high. Even a nearby church, vacant since the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, is up for grabs.

Landmark 120, church, photo by Yosh Asato

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In a study he calls The Origins of Architectural Pleasure, architecture professor Grant Hildebrand analyzes how specific responses to architecture, including aesthetic experience, could well have originated in evolved behavior. The details of the research and reasoning he assembles seem to me a clear, persuasive foundation for a more rigorous, more effective humanism.  He’s distilled the enormous complexity of a mind and body into concepts usable in day-to-day design, and that’s why my own explorations build on and in a sense grow out of his.

Habitats

He starts with the idea that natural selection clearly favors those who have imagined, found, and then re-shaped an environment into a “good home.”  And, as a result, natural selection has favored “an innate predilection to build in some ways and places rather than others,” adapted to the natural settings where a family would thrive.  Drawing on the social sciences, literature, the arts, plus his own observations, he traces the value we place on these selected sites and architectural forms back to biology – to innate survival-based behaviors.  Naturally, many of his insights are being applied in our day-to-day practice, though many are ignored or given a low priority, but whatever theory guides a design, he shows ways our publics are most likely to respond and why.

Specifically, Hildebrand points out that a safe, effective habitat must offer both a refuge, providing a microclimate, protection, and concealment – especially for the times when we are least watchful or most vulnerable – and a prospect, a look-out with views over well-lighted open spaces, the places that may offer opportunities – food and water, “provisioning,” exploring, trading – or reveal threats and approaching predators.  The natural places that would offer both together – a cave, cliff dwellings, and edges-of-the-forest, with an overlook ahead, protection behind – and ready access to a generous, fertile, natural setting of climate, land, and water – seem like archetypes, found again and again.  And he cites examples from a range of cultures over long spans of time – in Japan, throughout Europe, and today’s America.

“We built ourselves into the life of the desert” — Architect Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin West in Scottsdale

Building ourselves into the life of the land. Hildebrand explores in more depth the design implications of “refuge and prospect,” but first I want to expand further on responses to the component of experience we tend to call “nature” – the interacting processes of climate, geology, hydrology, and biology that go on whether we intervene or not.  Our relationship is inherently ambiguous.  Surviving and prospering depends on understanding, mastering, and managing its impacts, and our human “dominion” over nature – our separation and superiority – is institutionalized in our biblical and classically based civilizations.  Yet in practice, we are an inseparable part of any natural environment we invade, and whether driven by visions of quick exploitation or sustainability, private possession or the public domain, ultimately we rely on an intimate, nuanced collaboration.

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A Chicago Tribune series this past summer, “Playing with Fire,” shed new light on an old but hidden problem – the ubiquity of toxic chemicals embedded in many of the materials used in our indoor environment, halogenated flame retardants (HFRs) for one. Boiled down to the essentials, the issues call out for our attention:

• Flame-retardant chemicals are included in a wide range of materials and furnishings as the most expedient and least costly path to meeting the flammability standards. These sandards are written into law with the intent of reducing fire hazard by slowing the spread and intensity of fires. The state of California’s flammability standards for furniture are most often met by adding HFRs to foam; the International Code Council (and the local jurisdictions that adopt their standards into codes) leads to HFR use in foam insulation; and their use in electronics is a result of standards set by the International Electrotechnical Commission. These standards for furniture and insulation developed largely in response to the increased use of foam in the built environment, coinciding with an increase in fire incidents, primarily involving cigarettes. These standards were written reactively and without much planning or evaluation of appropriateness at the time they were implemented.
• In the case of foam insulation, the requirement that is met through the use of flame retardants is based on an inappropriately-applied flame test: The Steiner Tunnel Test is designed to study flame spread in tunnel conditions, not in a building’s interior. At a summit on flame retardants held the day prior to Greenbuild in San Francisco last month, fire scientist Dr. Vyto Babrauskas stated that the Steiner Tunnel Test “Might be an appropriate test if we lived in coal mines, with a low ceiling and a massive fan blowing heat through the space.” California’s furniture flammability standard, adopted in 1975 and known as Technical Bulletin 117, utilizes a small flame test. As a special 2011 report by Environmental Health News explains, “Naked foam treated with flame retardants to meet TB117 can resist a small open flame. But when fabric starts to burn, the foam will be exposed to a much larger flame than used in the TB117 test, and there’s no evidence that treated foam can resist that larger flame.” Since manufacturers who want to sell furniture in California must meet these standards, and since the state has such a significant economic influence, the state standard becomes the default standard for the rest of the country as well. Read more…

Earlier this month, Metropolis editors called out the top spaces, products, and ideas that we really liked at Greenbuild, in integrated social media coverage known as Metropolis Likes. We sought out design solutions and messages we deemed forward-thinking, useful, and meaningful; not necessarily a new product launch.

Our favorite concepts were awarded plaques, Metropolis Likes which are produced by 3M Architectural Markets using 3M Crystal Glass Finishes. The plaques became a visual guide to Greenbuild—helping attendees spot must-see spaces, products, and ideas.

Created with flickr slideshow.

The partnership between Metropolis and 3M Architectural Markets continues to celebrate the most forward-thinking ideas at industry trade shows; it generates an online conversation for the global design community around the creative breakthroughs. The program was so successful at this year’s ICFF and NeoCon that we decided to continue it at Greenbuild in San Francisco, where it has certainly kept up its momentum.

Design enthusiasts around the world followed our editors’ picks via  #MetropolisLikes as each selection was announced live with photos via Twitter, Flickr, Instagram, Pinterest, and Facebook.

Congratulations to all that Metropolis Likes from Greenbuild Expo 2012! And special thanks to 3M Architectural Markets for a great collaboration.

Alera: Micro6 LED Luminaire
The Micro6 LED luminaire reduces energy consumption through intelligent controls that are unparalleled in simplicity of use, flexibility of design, and ease of installation.

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Attention New York metropolitan area designers and architects: If you didn’t make it to Greenbuild, held this year in San Francisco’s Moscone Center, you may want to catch up on what the 25,000+ (final figures not yet released) attendees saw and heard there. Even if you were there, in that heated caldron of green activity, you like everyone in attendance, were able to see on a small part of the educational sessions and product offerings at the conference and trade show.

We’re here to help. Back by popular demand, Greenbuild Show Snapshots, Metropolis’s collaboration with Davis & Warshow for the fifth year in a row, will present an overview and some topics that caught our attention this year. In the meantime, check out footage of the fun from last year’s Greenbuild Show Snapshots cocktail event, followed by a panel discussion lead by our editor-in-chief, Susan S. Szenasy with HOK’s director of design, Kenneth Drucker and Turner Construction’s chief sustainability officer, Michael Deane. Over 100 members of the A&D community came to mix, mingle, munch on local, sustainable, seasonal, and delicious hors d’oeuvres and get an inside look at the top projects and innovations from the show and share their own experience.

Greenbuild Show Snapshots Cocktail Hour from Metropolis magazine on Vimeo.

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How many times in the last week, or even in the last day, have you looked at your smart phone, iPad, car, television, some type of technology, and said, “I love you”?

We often treat machines as if they are living things, sometimes with tender loving care, and sometimes with a good swat. But why react so strongly towards inanimate objects?

We humans have an inherent desire, an urge to affiliate with other living forms, a bond called the biophilia hypothesis. This urge to bond with other living things might explain why we respond to our technologies with so much emotion as well as why we’re obsessed with creating life-like technology; the more alive it seems, the greater the potential for love.

Living things not only inspire love, they also inspire knowledge, and life can even do work for us. This year at Greenbuild, you can tour a machine that looks to life for inspiration, and to how living things can help human life. Called the Living Machine, it is a system for treating wastewater at the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission building.

“The Living Machine system incorporates a series of wetland cells, or basins, filled with special gravel that promotes the development of micro-ecosystems. As water moves through the system, the cells are alternately flooded and drained to create multiple tidal cycles each day, much like we find in nature, resulting in high quality reusable water,” -Living Machine

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How can architects expand Western science and medicine into parts of the world with different cultural and traditional values?

Western designers have been designing healthcare facilities across the world since colonial times. For centuries, the flow of medical knowledge — as with the flow of military and financial power — was one-sided. But over the past two decades, as medicine became an important Western export, the world has become flat and this knowledge transfer has turned into a two-way street.

Today, we are participating in the globalization of Western medicine – its science, commerce, and philosophical underpinnings. We see evidence of the regionalization of the delivery of Western medicine with leading healthcare brands such as Johns Hopkins, Harvard Medical International, and The Cleveland Clinic placing their facilities and operations in emerging regions. The healthcare environments that Western architects are designing in Asia Pacific, the Middle East, and India are becoming living laboratories for global cultural integration.

This trend is forcing the convergence of scientific treatment with culturally responsive delivery. I call this “bridging the empathy gap.” By this I mean that we must hear what our clients in the countries where we work are not telling us and see what they are not showing us. We need to decipher their hidden messages.

Here are three stories that reveal how even subtle cultural differences can significantly impact the design of hospitals.

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