VERNACULAR PICTURES 1: LOW CEILINGS

A big workload over the past week (and probably for the next month or so) hasn’t left me any time to write a proper post this week, but instead of breaking the streak I’m going to cheat for a while, and do a series of low-effort posts based around images and featuring some of my favourite themes, elements and designs.

To kick things off: low ceilings in vernacular architecture. Lowering the ceiling is not just a way of saving on construction materials and ongoing heating costs; it is also very effective in giving a space a sense ‘cosiness’ or intimacy, especially when a low ceiling is used within, and to give contrast to, a larger space with a higher ceiling, such as a dining nook in a kitchen or bed alcove in a bedroom. Arguably the four poster bed is an example of the latter in furniture form, with the roof of the bed forming a second ceiling below the room’s ceiling. If we permit this interpretation, then perhaps the ultimate in low ceilings and intimate spaces is the ‘box bed,’ once valued in the cold climates of northern Europe for its ability to trap heat, and no doubt also for the feeling of absolute enclosure and security it brought to its occupants.

ARCHITECT OR BUILDING DESIGNER - PART THREE

This post will be the last in our series on architects and building designers, and will elaborate on the conclusion to last week’s post - that a person’s status as architect or building designer is usually less relevant to the question of who to choose for you project than the suitability of the individual him or herself - by examining one of the most commonly held beliefs regarding the difference between architects and building designers: that architects are more expensive.

While this perception is in fact true in general, the difference in cost isn’t due to anything inherent to either occupation, but rather comes down to a) the scope of services and b) the ‘level’ or ‘depth’ of services historically and typically offered by each profession. As in most things, ‘you get what you pay for’ usually holds true, regardless of whether these services are offered by a building designer or an architect; and as mentioned previously, there is nothing preventing an individual building designer offering the same scope or level of services offered by a typical architect, or vice-versa.

In any case, what accounts for the difference in cost between one architect or building designer and another? When people speak of a building as ‘architectural’ or as having an ‘architectural’ quality, they are usually referring to a certain degree of refinement. This need not imply that an ‘architectural’ building must be modern in its design - traditional architecture, for it to work, arguably requires as great as if not a greater level of refinement and attention to detail than modern architecture.

In terms of the stages of the design process, the refinement of the design takes place mainly in two areas: firstly, in the sketch or concept design phase, in which it is expressed in the level of care and consideration given to the functional aspects of planning, and to the aesthetic and compositional basics of the building - the layout and interrelationships of rooms, overall massing of forms, scale and proportion, placement of openings, etc. Secondly, refinement is achieved in the detailing of the building. Detailing can mean anything from resolving the ‘joints’ of the building - the places where different planes or different materials meet - in an aesthetically pleasing way, to bespoke joinery, landscape design, exterior and interior materials and finishes, colour selection and coordination, lighting, furnishings, and the like.

It should also be noted that the further the designer departs from the norms of the building industry, or from ‘builder’s vernacular’ as it is sometimes called, the more research, consideration, and drawing will be involved, thus more time will be required, and this will be reflected in the cost.

The inclusion of contract administration in an architect or designer’s services can also have a significant effect on cost: in a full services contract, the contract administration stage can account for 25-35% of the designer or architect’s total fee. Contract administration is relevant to the concept of refinement in that it could be said that one important role of the contract administrator is to make sure that the building is ‘built as drawn and as documented’ - ensuring that the refinements made in the design and detailing stages are properly implemented in the construction stage, and not altered or omitted by a builder deciding that they are too much trouble or unnecessary.

ARCHITECT OR BUILDING DESIGNER - PART TWO

This is the second post on the differences between architects and building designers. Where the previous post focused on legalities, in this post I would like to look at the ‘flavour’ (for want of a better word) of each occupation, beginning with the education received by each.

As mentioned last week, an architect in Australia must have a three year undergraduate degree and a two year master’s degree in architecture. A building designer in Victoria, by contrast, must have an advanced diploma in building design (architectural), which takes at least two years to complete. As someone who holds both an Architecture degree (though not an Australian one) and an advanced diploma of building design, I would say that, in the broadest general terms, the focus of an architectural education is towards the ‘theoretical’, whereas that of the advanced diploma of building design is towards the ‘practical’.

The architectural education places a strong emphasis on being ‘creative’ and on ‘Theory’ with a capital T - it is heavy with concepts taken second or third-hand from modern academic literary and philosophical studies, such as such as deconstructivism, post-structuralism, etc. There is also an architectural history component, which is lacking in the advanced diploma of building design. A building designer’s education on the other hand is far more focused on the ‘nuts and bolts’ - the practical details of materials and construction, a working knowledge of the Building Code of Australia and the Australian Standards, bushfire attack level ratings, and so on. The building designer comes ‘out of the box’ more ready to go, if you like.

In the end, while it is certainly true that the work done by the typical architect differs from the work done by the typical building designer, the question ‘Should I engage an architect or a building designer?’ is probably the wrong question.  It would be better to ask “Who is the best person for the job?” Answering this requires answering some other questions first: What are my goals for my project, and who can best achieve them? What ‘style’ of building do I want? What level of detailing and finish do I want? What services do I require, and what do I want to pay for them? Does the person under consideration have the necessary level of experience, in the right areas, to undertake the job? Are their values, principles, and aesthetics aligned with my own? Do I like them and will I be able to get along with them over months or even years? Only once you have answered these questions will you be in a good position to choose the right person for your job, irrespective of their occupational status.

ARCHITECT OR BUILDING DESIGNER - PART ONE

What is the difference between an architect and a building designer?

This is a question I come across from time to time, both online and in the real world, and often in the context of a person wondering which they should engage to design, document, or administer their project. In this post and the next, I will try to answer it by examining the differences between the two occupations, and in the process (I hope) clear up some of the misconceptions and misunderstandings around the subject, since there is a fair amount of over-generalised, misleading and even inaccurate information floating around.

In answering the question, I will really be answering three questions: What are the legal frameworks, conditions and restrictions applying to each occupation? What services do each typically provide? and What services are each perceived to provide by the general public? Note that these questions pertain to architects and building designers as groups, rather than on a case-by-case, individual basis - this is an important distinction when considering the latter two questions, and one that we will return to later.

First, architects. In Australia, an architect typically must: have a three-year Bachelor’s degree in architecture and a two-year Master’s degree in architecture; have a minimum of two years full time experience working in architecture; pass the Architectural Practice Examination; be insured; and be registered with the architect registration board of the relevant state or territory (in Victoria this is the Architects Registration Board of Victoria or ARBV). There are other pathways to registration, but this is the path the great majority of Australian architects take. The National Standard of Competency for architects is determined by the national body, the Architects Accreditation Council of Australia or AACA.

The right to use the term “architect” is protected by law in Australia via various state and territory legislation; here in Victoria, the relevant act is the Architects Act 1991. Section 4 of this Act, Representing a natural person to be an architect, states that:

(1) A natural person must not represent himself or herself to be an architect and must not allow himself or herself to be represented to be an architect unless he or she is registered as an architect under this Act.

Section 7 When is a person or body represented as an architect? goes on to state:

(1) Without limiting the ways in which a person or body can be considered to be represented to be an architect, using any of the following titles, names or descriptions constitutes such a representation—

(a) the title “architect";

(b) any other title, name or description that indicates, or is capable of being understood to indicate, or is calculated to lead a person to infer, that the person or body is an architect or is registered or approved under this Act.

(2) Without limiting the ways in which a person can be considered to be represented to be an architect, a representation that the person provides the services of an architect constitutes a representation that the person is an architect.

“Architect” is not the only term protected by this Act. Section 8 Restriction on use of particular expressions states that:

(1) A person or body (other than a person who is registered as an architect under this Act or an approved partnership or an approved company) must not use any of the terms “architectural services", “architectural design services" or “architectural design" in relation to—

(a) the design of buildings or parts of buildings by that person or body; or

(b) the preparation of plans, drawings or specifications for buildings or parts of buildings by that person or body.

The term “architecture” is not explicitly listed in the Act as a protected term; Section 7 (1)(b) seems to suggest, however, that if building designer Bill Smith were to call his practice “Bill Smith Architecture” he might fall afoul of the Act. This raises the question of what distinguishes “architecture” from mere buildings, and makes one wonder how the question might be settled were it ever tested in court. Is a building designer with a portfolio of nothing but the most cutting-edge contemporary “architectural” design permitted to call it architecture? Is a utilitarian shed architecture simply by the fact of its having been designed by a registered architect? The formal designation given by the Victorian Building Authority for the category of work done by building designers is “Building Design (architectural)”, which would seemingly place the VBA in contravention of the restrictions placed on the use of the term “architectural” in the Act!

The status of building designers in Australia is somewhat more complicated and less clear than that of the architect, as there is no national body governing building designers, and minimum educational and qualificational requirements (if any) for building designers differ by state and territory - although the trend is towards more regulation and a national-level legislative framework may emerge at some point in the future. In Victoria, the governing body for all building practitioners (including building designers) is the Victorian Building Authority (the VBA). In order to practice, building designers in Victoria must: hold an Advanced Diploma of Building Design (typically two years’ full-time study); have at least two years’ practical experience in the field; have their ability and experience assessed by the VBA; and hold professional indemnity insurance.

This concludes our legal overview of and comparison between the two occupations, in answering the first of the three questions posed at the beginning of this post. What I hope it has demonstrated, and what I would like to emphasise, is that there is no part of the design process that an architect is permitted to do that a building designer is not. In particular, contract administration is often thought to be a service offered exclusively by architects, and sometimes incorrectly believed to be their legal preserve - in fact, there is nothing legally preventing building designers from offering contract administration services, and many do so.

In the next post, I would like to consider the second and third of the questions posed, by looking at the differences in education received by building designers and architects, and the various factors that come into play when deciding whether an architect or building designer is the right choice for your project.

JAPANESE MINKA I - INTRODUCTION AND PIT DWELLINGS

Feeling ambitious, I have decided to do a series of posts on minka, the traditional vernacular residential architecture of Japan. Minka (民家), literally ‘people’s house’ or ‘folk house,’ is the Japanese word for any ‘common’ or vernacular dwelling, traditional or contemporary, as opposed to both the refined and self-consciously ‘classical’ historical tradition, represented by the villas and tea houses of the aristocracy, residences attached to temples and shrines, and the like, and to modern ‘architectural’ design. In practice, minka is often used more narrowly to refer to traditional residential structures built until the middle of the 20th century.

My main reference in this series will be Kawashima Chūji’s comprehensive three-volume survey and study titled Horobiyuku Minka (滅びゆく民家) or ‘Disappearing Minka’. There is already an excellent English translation of this work, albeit abridged into one volume, by Lynne E. Riggs, but neither the original nor the translation are widely known or cheaply available. Totalling almost 900 pages and heavily illustrated with photographs, sketches, diagrams, plans and sections, the work and its subject certainly deserve a wider audience, so I hope to be able to present at least some of its contents here to anyone who is interested. The three volumes are subtitled: Roofs and Exteriors (Yane・Gaikan 屋根・外観); Internal Layouts, Structure, and Interiors (Madori・Kо̄zо̄・Naibu 間取り・構造・内部) ; and Sites/Auxiliary Structures and Typologies (Yashiki-mawari・Keishiki 屋敷まわり・形式) respectively. I will probably be focusing mostly on the second volume.

Before diving in, however, it would probably be a good idea to lay the groundwork by looking briefly at the archaeological and historical origins of the minka.

The history, or rather pre-history, of minka begins with tateana-shiki jūkyo (竪穴式住居) or simply tateana jūkyo 竪穴住居), the pit (tateana 竪穴) dwellings thought to have first appeared in the late palaeolithic, but more closely associated with the Jо̄mon period (roughly 14th to 1st millenium BC) and surviving into the subsequent Yayoi period (roughly 3rd century BC to 3rd century AD). These structures consist of a pit, round or later rectilinear, with the excavated material often used to form a low wall or berm around the perimeter. The depth of the pit floor to the top of the berm varied by period and region; in cold areas it could be two metres or more. Posts (typically four but sometimes two, three, five, or more) were set into the floor of the pit and tied together with beams, which supported a roof consisting of rafters running from ground to ridge, purlins, and a covering of earth/turf or later thatch.

Modern reconstruction of a tateana-jūkyo (gable entry).

Modern reconstruction of a tateana-jūkyo (side entry).

Reconstruction of the interior of a tateana jūkyo

Cutaway showing the structure of a tateana jūkyo.

An excavated tateana jūkyo pit showing post holes and fireplace, the structural framework, and a reconstruction of the external appearance showing thatching, entrance opening, and smoke openings in the gables.

A series of sections showing the evolution of the tateana jūkyo roof structure, from a simple earth-covered A-frame to a thatched structure with differentiated wall and roof, essentially identical to a modern house but for the sunken floor.

Later, relatively sophisticated examples of the form, showing square plan, hipped-and-gabled roof, ‘chimneys’, and perimeter wall posts and beams which allow the roof structure to be raised clear of the ground.

The Japanese climate is classified as ‘temperate’ over most of its range, which might surprise anyone who has been there in August or February. Builders of houses in most parts of the archipelago have always been faced with the challenge of balancing the competing requirements of hot, humid summers and cold, humid winters, often with significant snowfall. The tateana jūkyo sucessfully addressed many of these challenges. The insulative thatch and the thermal mass of the earth surrounding the pit acted to keep the interior within a comfortable temperature range, around 23 degrees celsius in summer and 20 degrees in winter. The smoke holes in the gables provided effective cross ventilation and exhausted the bulk of the smoke from the fire; at the same time the permeable thatching, while preventing rain from entering the house, also allowed smoke to diffuse from the inside out, which both fumigated the thatch against insects and rodents and preserved it against rot.

Diagram showing the environmental performance of the tateana jūkyo.

Despite these advantages, the tateana jūkyo gradually gave way to the takayuka jūkyo (高床住居) or ‘raised floor’ dwelling, introduced to Japan by the Yayoi people in their migration from the continent beginning in the 3rd century BC, just as the rice agriculture of the Yayoi eventually displaced the hunter-gathering of the Jо̄mon. The takayuka jūkyo will be the subject of the next post.