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Over the last five years I have spent time researching school dynamics and design, trying to better understand how the changing world will affect the future of teaching and learning. This research is meant to inform me as a designer so I can grow as a designer of learning environments and understand their future. How will the future of teaching and learning impact the built environment?
This current global pandemic has me interested even more as schools have been forced to virtual classrooms and content delivery. In the past I have researched virtual classrooms, content, and how this could have positive and negative effects on teaching and learning. Now more than ever this is coming to the mainstream. It has been amazing to watch our school districts locally and around the state take this life changing event in stride. In just a few weeks we have transitioned from the physical to a virtual learning environment. Content is uploaded daily and students are asked to be responsible for a larger portion of their school life. Is this an opportunity to look to the future and think about how we deliver content? Can school play a larger role in giving students the opportunity to explore their passions while absorbing content in a virtual classroom. Spend time with teachers on innovation, creativity, and learning to collaborate?
You might wonder why I am asking these questions. The answers to these questions could have an impact in how we look at the design of schools. This topic is not new, it is just something which has come to the forefront given our recent situation. The questions I pose are meant to challenge our conventional thinking at school. What opportunities lie within this disaster. Our schools are amazing. In just weeks they have made the transition and opened new doors. What would it look like if our schools were given 1-2 years to re-think the way they worked?
Its plan was ingenious in that it was built around the then-current and crumbling Capitol, which was in service until the outer ring of the current building was completed. Then the old Capitol was then demolished and the center tower was built in its place, along with four courtyards, all virtually identical. Construction was completed in 1932, eight years after Goodhue’s death.
As it was in the midst of the Great Depression, some murals inside the building and the fountains planned for the center of all four courtyards were not completed at that time. The murals were added over the years, so the last piece of the original vision to be completed was the fountains.
The office of Goodhue Associates produced a sketch of the fountains in 1933. The original drawing kept to Goodhue’s directive that the design should follow Middle Eastern examples of a shallow bubbling fountain, as he contended the scarcity of water in the Midwest is similar to the Middle East; high shooting fountains that promote evaporation were a waste of this precious resource.
BVH has been involved with the restoration and preservation of the Capitol In 2014, BVH Architecture was engaged to design the fountains, based on the original sketch. The consultant team included Alvine Engineering, Big Muddy Workshop Inc., Waterline Studios, and R.O. Youker. The general contractor was Kingery Construction. Most of the project is not visible to the naked eye, as it entails mechanical rooms in the basement and large conduits to the vaults under each fountain. Some liberties were taken, such as casting the bowls in bronze, instead of the original lead envisioned by the Goodhue team.
The paving stones in the courtyards were salvaged from the two original Capitol buildings that preceded it, an homage to the history of the site. They were pulled up, new concrete pads were poured underneath, and the stones were re-laid.
BVH Architecture specializes in new construction as well as adaptive reuse and restoration. It may be easy to consider this project as preservation, rehabilitation, restoration or reconstruction, according to the Secretary of the Interior’s Standards for the treatment of historic properties. These are all approaches that BVH has mastered in countless projects in the past, including hundreds of projects completed over the last two decades for the National Park Service. There are elements of preservation and restoration, as in the paving stones of the walkways. But the key features are the fountains. As they were never built, this is not a restoration. Some may argue the validity of basing the design on a 74-year old concept, but this is a special case. As noted, Goodhue died many years before the building was completed, and the driving force for the completion after his death was to realize his original cohesive vision. We didn’t add to the site, or introduce a new element, we are now a part of the design team for the Nebraska State Capitol, stretching from Goodhue’s original concept in the early 20s to BVH in the 21st century. After 95 years, the Nebraska State Capitol is now finished!
Olympus Digital Media
This article originally appeared on Docomomo-US.org.
Search for modernist architect Edward Durell Stone and you will discover his seminal works, such as The Museum of Modern Art, the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, and the American Embassy in New Delhi. Some of his works are praised, others dismissed, as he layered decoration and pattern upon International Style basics. A recurring theme is that he was the arbiter of good, or tacky, taste for the middle class. New Formalism, or maybe pre-Post Modernism. Robert Venturi without a sense of humor? But that’s another story.
What will not show up in your initial search is the beloved Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer in Grand Island, Nebraska. Stone designed this landmark in 1963, the result of a naïve yet ambitious building committee who simply asked the major galleries and museums of the nation who they would hire to design for them if given the chance. The resounding answer was Stone.
Grand Island is a city of 50,000 today, roughly half that in 1963, located on the Platte River and Route 80, about 90 miles west of the state capital of Lincoln. The museum collection is primarily composed of 3D artifacts relating to Nebraska’s pioneering days. Also on the 207-acre site is Railroad Town, a pioneer village set in the late 19th century, a recreation similar to Williamsburg, Virginia.
You see the building from a great distance, centered on a round island within a round lake, approached by a long boulevard that circumnavigates the lake. You drive half way around before reaching the pedestrian causeway that stretches across the moat to the main entrance. When leaving you drive around the other half of the lake, thereby experiencing the perfect symmetry of the square building from all sides. It is monumental and resplendent with Stone’s signature style inside and out. The two story, square building is wrapped in a portico of slender square columns supporting a massive waffle slab, flat roof with a deep overhang, and a pyramidal skylight rising at the center. Windows are narrow vertical ribbons from plinth to roof with spandrels at the second floor. The building was designed to be poured-in-place concrete wrapped in large marble slabs, but budget constraints precipitated the value-engineered solution of CMU structure covered with a textured off-white, plaster-like matrix with marble chips called Granulux – a wonder product of the era.
The monochrome exterior aesthetic was carried throughout the interior with white terrazzo on the main floor, interior structural columns finished with Granulux matching the exterior, and white carpet on several exhibit walls. The entry sequence takes the visitor through a wide hall with a low ceiling to the center of the building, then to the watergarden, where the space opens horizontally into the main floor gallery space, and vertically to the skylight, with streaming natural light upon the grand curving, floating double staircase, interwoven with four square pools of water with fountains and planters overhead. The second floor is dedicated to exhibits, while the periphery spaces on the main floor contain the gift shop, meeting rooms, restrooms, curatorial, and mechanical spaces.
BVH Architecture was engaged in 2007 to evaluate the physical condition, code, and ADA accessibility issues of the building, and to develop a master plan for an evolving mission. To the delight and dismay of the architects, the building was found in virtually original condition. Single pane windows, no insulation anywhere, extension cords everywhere, and a mechanical system that relied on a constant worldwide search for parts on EBay to keep the 40-year old system on life support. Restrooms were not ADA compliant, nor were there enough fixtures, especially for the busloads of school children that visit every year. The expanded mission included a catering kitchen and flexible space that could properly accommodate community gatherings, wedding receptions, and various other public and private events that had become a part of the life of the building. The challenge was to fit larger spaces and an expanded program into a building that could not be physically expanded, as changing the appearance or adding on was not an option if the character of the building was to be maintained.
As the project unfolded, the intent of Edward Durell Stone became more apparent. The scope of work also grew exponentially. For instance, the Granulux completely failed during construction, resulting in a custom invention of an exterior textured plaster and marble matrix to replace it. Walls were furred on the interior to accommodate insulation and climate control, and the deteriorated windows were replaced with double pane, thermally broken units containing frames that match the profile of the originals. A double stair was added on the east side of the plinth to access the island for outdoor events. Restrooms were made larger and accessible, and the cobbled gift shop was redesigned in the spirit of Stone. The mechanical system was also completely replaced with a high efficiency system.
A subtle, evolutionary move was executed in the watergarden. The four square pools originally did not have railings. At a depth of 18 inches, they were not needed according to code. The result was a sophisticated drama of sunken pools in the broad floor plain, with the curved double stair rising and contrasting to the gallery above. Legend has it that soon after the building opened, a nun was gazing up at the stair and the sunlight streaming in and fell backward into a pool. The reasonable but unfortunate solution was to add white steel picket fencing around the pools. While they accomplished their intent, they changed the aesthetic from the great western plains to pens in a barnyard. Everyone agreed the fences had to go, but safety was still a concern, so the solution was to enclose the pools with tempered glass. Upon entering the building, the transparent rails reveal the open plains, again putting the space and intent into perspective, a compromise that restores the feel and drama of the space.
Outside, the long-gone crabapple trees were replanted in the garden plots of the plinth and the long-dead up lights were replaced with LED, again illuminating this temple of history as it was intended.
As the rehabilitation project neared its completion in early 2015, the building was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. The rehabilitation of the Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer was also recently recognized by Docomomo at the 2017 Modernism in America Award ceremony with a Citation of Merit. The museum is celebrating 50 years through 2017.
That’s not going away anytime soon. In fact, according to an article in Forbes, there will be a total of five generations in the workplace by 2020. Here at BVH, we’re well on our way. Our firm currently employs professionals from the Millennial (1977-1995), Gen X (1965-1976), and Baby Boomer (1946-1964) generation, with the fourth generation, iGen or Gen Z (1996+) creeping around the corner of employment.
But what do these “labels” teach us about meaningful interpersonal relationships with our coworkers? Forbes quotes the 2014 book, The Gen Z Effect: The Six Forces Shaping the Future of Business by Thomas Koulopoulos and Dan Keldsen in writing:
“Generational thinking is like the Tower of Babel: it only serves to divide us. Why not focus on the behaviors that can unite us?” The article goes on to suggest: “..we transpose the discussion from the focus on supporting characteristics of each generation to one that is independent on age demographics and instead on behaviors.”
Writing as a millennial, I occasionally feel the strain of outrunning negative millennial connotations. Articles with titles such as, “The Real Problem with Millennials at Work,” and “5 Shocking Statistics About Real Millennial Problems,” are certainly no help.
While it’s a known fact of anthropology that folks of certain time periods tend to have similar behavior patterns, I would argue each person’s generational identity should be observationally and introspectively understood as a continuous vector, rather than a stagnant point of definition.
The stereotypical attributes of each generation act as creative kryptonite when working in a collaborative environment.
The richness of our culture is because of our diverse generations. Our varying ages and consequently, areas of expertise, are to be celebrated. Ultimately, working among multiple generations is a crucial part of our culture at BVH. Our modern-day process is a far cry from Ancient Rome in that we no longer have a Master Builder who oversees the collective group that works beneath him. Rather, we operate as a creative collective in which we desire to learn from those who have more experience in areas that others do not.
Architecture in the 21st Century not only requires refined design intuition but an expertise in new materialities, sustainability, evolving modeling software – both physically and digitally – and a close analysis of the projected behavioral patterns of the newest generations who will inhabit the projects we build today. The concept of a Master Builder crumbles under the necessity to stay relevant in a quickly evolving industry.
During my time as an architecture student at UNL, I primarily worked with individuals of my generation, as Millennials made up a majority of the 2016 graduating class. Admittedly, I was caught off guard by the varying communication and design processes present within the firm when I first began. However, learning to relate and creatively interact with individuals who have vastly different life experience than myself has been an invaluable experience and, in turn, transformed my understanding and optimism towards our multi-generational workplace. Even if it means enduring endless dad jokes.
I have been working here at BVH for about 20 hours a week while pursuing my Master of Architecture degree at UNL. While it has been a lot of work, and there have been some stressful times, I think it has been an invaluable opportunity to experience both practice and academia at the same time. They have simultaneously helped me get more out of each one.
One of the great things about working while in school is that I have had the ability to learn the technical side of design. I have learned a lot of technical knowledge here at BVH, thanks to a lot of great mentors who have taught me a lot about how a building actually goes together. Because of this, I have been able to come to school with a competent knowledge of how buildings actually go together, allowing me to really spend my time in design studios exploring new possibilities and ways to look at design as opposed to spending my time on designing something that works. I have had the ability to learn the technical knowledge here at work and it has really helped me push the boundaries in school without feeling the need to spend my time learning the technical aspects.
On the other side of things, going to school has helped me bring a creative mind to the work place. It can be easy to get caught up in the details of designing a building, dealing with clients and putting out detailed construction documents. School has helped me keep a fresh and exploratory mindset to the studio. Along with many others in the studio, we are trying to bring theory and practice together, in order to design to change the way spaces we create are used.
BVH has made a commitment to people, knowledge, and wonder, and those core beliefs are one of the main reasons I will continue working here after graduation. I want to continue to have the opportunity to learn and explore new possibilities in design. I’ll strive to merge those technical skills I’ve learned while working at BVH with the wonder and knowledge inspired by school to create designs that positively impact people.
I’ve had a great last two years, and I’m excited and ready for the future.