2011 SOM Prize for Architecture, Design, and Urban Design
Volume: Bringing Surface into Question

The Realities of Research

Marc Jarzombek recently suggested one could determine how well a society is doing by their ability to precisely carve stone. I like his metric for its simplicity, but also for its assumption that we must not be doing so well today. [1] So much of the discussion surrounding digital design has focused on the surface. Perhaps this is because we inherited economically thin sheet materials from the industrial era, or because we no longer consider compression-only structures to be valid. While I argue these structures outlast any partial-tension structure, making them inherently sustainable, I also argue the purpose of the proposed research is not to revert to this “antiquated” architecture. This research is intended to mine the lost knowledge of stereotomy (the art of cutting solids, more typically stone) as a way to inform our contemporary methods of making with the dimension of volume.

I have an ongoing preoccupation with volume. Much of my previous research [2] was dedicated to creating volumetric structures and spaces from sheet materials. More recently, this desire has been formalized into stereotomic research. [3] Though this research has been fruitful in advancing topics such as robotic CNC carving, or variable-depth compression-only structures; [4] it has run into a number of knowledge barriers. Much of this knowledge is missing from our contemporary discourse. It has become apparent the best way to revisit these lost techniques and methods is to travel.

When charged with the task of investigating cultures of volumetric making, the list of locations becomes endless. In order to bracket the discussion, I employed a number of conditions to evaluate the relative importance to the research. One of these conditions searched for projects that precisely carved stone, as opposed to the aggregation of standardized masonry. Another was the creation of occupiable space, not simply the carving of objects. Lastly, there was an attempt to spread and distribute the selected sites across a spectrum of times, locations, and cultures. To that end, the Yucatán, Peru, and Indonesia served as critical locations of non-Eurocentric cultures. Beyond this removal attempt from the typical approach to stereotomic research, each of these three locations contained European constructions adjacent to the early civilizations. Often, these colonial constructions attempted (or were forced due to means and methods) to employ similar strategies of construction. Ironically, the European constructions are often less rigorous in their approach (as discussed in method). These direct comparisons rarified many of the claims surrounding tooling and methods. While these three locations served these purposes, the practical necessity of having a number of sites to visit within a relatively close proximity was key. This does not count out India and the Middle East as fruitful ground to continue this research.

Southern Europe Southern Europe served as ground central for this research. From Spain to Armenia and from the Mediterranean to Northern France. This vast swath of land is littered with volumetric architecture. While there were no geographic zones of distinction in some categories of the research (like spirals), it is fair to categorize topics such as precise stereotomy in regions such as Valencia and France. Similarly, Germany, Italy, Czech Republic, and Austria demonstrated the variety of approaches to volumetric interiors of the Baroque period.

This publication is a collection and compilation of field notes. For clarity, these notes have been compiled into six chapters, each tackling a topic—Stereotomy, Transitions, Rhetoric, Spirals, Tooling, Method. These chapters are also broken into subchapters, and sporadic notes where certain observations do not fit precisely. This research is also not a linear narrative. In reality, it is closer to a matrix, or network. In distributing topics throughout the chapters, there were many overlaps and many misfits. For this reason, there are a number of links in the chapters begging the reader to skip forward and backwards to make more detailed connections from chapter to chapter.

I entered into this project with the assumption that I could verify or disprove the hypothesis I had about the works I planned to study. I assumed that everything I had read about these works was correct and it was my job to visit these sites and try to learn something new. The Inca wall construction is a great example of this being undermined. I knew before visiting that the Inca built their incredible walls without the use of mortar. Of course, when I visited the work, I stumbled upon a ruined wall that disproved this knowledge (see Final Report, 286). In fact, it was never the masterwork that mattered. The completed architectures, the preserved sites, and the commonly photographed were rarely helpful in the research. The ruins and the sites I stumbled upon while making my way to other “known” sites were where the jewels of knowledge gleaned. One such example is Les Baux-de-Provence, a medieval city on a mountain that contained some of the richest insights to the ties volumetric making has with geology. This incredible visit was in fact not planned. It was a mistake (wrong exit).

Another unforeseen result of the continual travel (as opposed to targeted site visits) is the ability to blend cultures together in the notes. Time and time again I was stumbling across something next to a site I intended to see, and verbally stated “they (insert culture) did (insert method or rhetoric) just like (insert culture from other side of the world that at the time was not in communication with said culture) . . . how is that possible?” For this reason, the structure of this publication contains pairs and series of images from multiple cultures attempting or producing like results. One example would be the lift locations at the Acropolis in Athens, as well as the Inca constructions in Cusco, Peru (see Final Report, 305). While this occurred occasionally as discrete connections, other continual topics emerged over and over. The spiral (or helix) is one of these continual presences throughout the travel. It was so pervasive that in the end, it earned its own chapter. While this is discussed throughout the introductions to chapters, there is something about volumetric architecture that elicits similar procedures, rhetoric, and desires irrespective of time, location, or culture.

The Future of Volumetric Architecture

Our world is littered with intoxicating examples of volumetric architecture. These are architectures of weight, mass, imagination, ingenuity, and nods to perpetuity. Why then is our contemporary development so dedicated to surface? Is it possible to reimagine our culture as deficient, as opposed to advanced? Volume is often assumed to be waste. Volume is assumed to be inefficient. What are we missing when advancing blindly towards efficiency with distain for volume as antithetical to progress? What can be learned from the past? This research began with these questions in play.

When asked where I visited over the course of this research, the response always includes a rebuttal along the lines of “but why didn’t you visit (insert reference here)?” This response is not unwelcome. These references go directly into my ongoing agenda. This speaks to the plethora of incredible global examples (and perhaps the daunting scope of this research), but it also speaks to the realization that this is not the culmination of the work, just the start. As mentioned previously, India and the Middle East have certainly been neglected in this body. I would love to continue the work in those locations along the same passive observer approach; however, continuing down this path appears to be an endless cycle. There is currently another motivation pushing me towards an active approach.

If one categorizes research into three zones—Field (Observer), Lab (Experiment), Archive (History)—this report resides in fieldwork. It does not have the rigor of the historian, nor the grounding of the experiment. It is a network of observations, thoughts, notes, and connections. I have proposed (and am currently working on) supplementing this body of observations with the latter two in the form of a publication and exhibition.

This research resides between fantasy and reality, hence the desire to push the work towards the physical. I intend this research to directly inform my ongoing work in volumetric making. I look forward to experimenting and prototyping the issues at play in this research—transitions, rhetoric, methods, etc. For instance, the realization that the Inca utilized the wedge technique to align precisely the front edge of their constructions is a radical proposal for apparent mortar-less masonry. This report will serve as catalyst for many making experiments.

To say that contemporary architecture is lacking in volume, is not to say that it is void of volume. Many topics at play reside in contemporary examples, and it is my intention to extend this research to engage in this merger, but potentially to rarify the claims. I imagine a new trajectory for our contemporary architecture. I imagine an architecture that re-engages in our very long history of mass. I imagine an architecture that is produced through this mass—not in spite of it. I imagine progress not being conceived of through technique and machine constraints, but via the translation of past knowledge into contemporary practice.

A Preview

La Voûte de LeFevre was produced in parallel with this SOM Foundation travel research with LeFevre Fellowship funding from The Ohio State University Knowlton School of Architecture. This project is indicative of the experimental ambition of the larger research project. It serves as exemplar of the research project trajectory. Many of the topics and issues highlighted in this document have elicited specific responses in this physical project.

Stereotomy

Philibert De L’Orme invented a process whereby an architect could usurp the contractor via a method of drawing that directly informed the precision of carving a nonstandard unit to precisely align to its neighbor in the final configuration of the architect’s intention. This moment in time is a precursor to digital fabrication (or at least a common approach to digital fabrication). This project recalls this method by applying the developed surface technique in order to produce geometries that align units to each other. Every unit in this project is unique and therefore impossible to produce with the typical representation approach [5] that divides drawing from making.

Transitions

A deliberate attempt was made in this project to topologically [6] transition from column to vault. No break is inserted in this transition; however, this is a lie. In reality there is a difference between column and vault. The column is solid. It is treated as a single unit. The vault on the other hand is discretized into its constituent units. This moment of discrepancy is attempted to be seamless; however, the grain of the wood demonstrates clearly the reality. There is a good reason for this false reality. A column does not perform in the same manner as a vault. The thrust-vectors inside the column are vertical, not progressively horizontal. To that end, a column does not resist horizontal thrust. It is resists buckling. The solidity of the column is paramount. We find this issue to be intoxicating, not failed. It is also welcoming for us to be part of this eternal quest for architecture to deliver this problematic of transitioning.

Rhetoric

The discrepancy in transitioning from solid column to discretized vault is resolved for us via rhetoric. The rhetoric of individual units continues down the column as if the single and solid column was in fantasy an impossible continuation of the units to the ground. This rhetoric is not a simple continuation of the conical-boolean geometry that composes the vault. It is a new, yet similar approach. It refers to the conical-boolean, without repeating it. This shift in geometry allows the system not only to calibrate volume (as applied in the vault), but also to perform another transition from fragmented to smooth. As the units make their way down the column, they do get smaller, but the dimples slowly make their way to the surface producing the illusion of continuity, only to push through that continuity as the very base. This punctuation to the statement suggests that the weight of the vault above is so great that the column is forced to bulge outward. This is a rendering of solid as plastic.

Beyond the rhetoric of the columns, the figuration of the project serves a number of rhetorical purposes. The relaxing [7] of the base geometry is yet another nod to the continual fabric rhetoric of the past. This rhetoric serves a purpose of minimizing any rapid shifts in surface curvature, thus ensuring each unit has a relatively even change of aligning to its neighbors. Many also read the figure as forest. They see trunks instead of columns. They see canopy instead of vault. Perhaps this speaks to our own internal desires to see natural rhetoric in volumetric construction.

Tooling

This project is produced on a 5-axis Onsrud router. [8] The carving bits are larger than life. The tool paths utilized are dedicated to removing the most material with the least effort. These tool paths are called swarfs. [9] Instead of requiring the end of the bit to do the work, this path uses the edge of the bit to remove much more material. Because this method traces the geometry with a line as opposed to point (via stereotomy), it requires the units be constituted of ruled surfaces. This requirement results in the conical-boolean geometry.

Method

The vault is computed with a solver-based model [10] that elicits a compression-only structure, from a non-ideal geometry. [11] The model requires a fixed geometry as input and opens apertures in order to vary the weight of each unit. This dynamic system reconfigures the weight of the units based on a volumetric calculation. If unit A contains twice the volume of unit B, then unit A weights twice as much. It requires that the material of the project be consistent, and solid (hollow does not work). The computed result produces a project that will stand “forever” as there is zero tension in the system precisely because of the weight and volume of the project, and not in spite of it. This project is also a strange inversion of rustication. The appearance is of smaller units at the base, with larger units above; however, as stated previously, the columns are the largest units, with rhetoric of smaller units. This inversion serves to render the vault as light and antithetical to convention. A sever issue with the project is it’s assumed zero-fill approach. There is no mortar in this project. Discrepancies, errors, and gaps were impossible to resolve because of this zero-tolerance approach. We look forward to producing a project that capitalizes on the potential of the Inca wedge method.

Notes

[1] In a presentation to the Archiprix 2011 workshop at MIT/Cambridge.

[2] A Change of State 2006, Drawn Dress 2009.

[3] Periscope: Foam Tower 2010, Temporal Tenancy 2011, La Voûte de LeFevre 2012. Also see my texts “Foam Advocates” in Pidgin Magazine 9 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University School of Architecture, 2010): 149–159 and “Periscope: Foam Tower” in FABRICATE: Making Digital Architecture (Cambridge, Ontario: Riverside Architectural Press, 2011), 76–79.

[4] See my article “Thick Funicular” in Pidgin Magazine 11 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University School of Architecture, 2011): 220–239 and the 2012 ACSA International Conference proceedings.

[5] I am referring to the conventional approach of architects producing representations of architectural intent in the form of construction documents. These documents are submitted to the contractor or builder that owns the means and methods of making. This builder returns the documents to the architect in the form of shop drawings to verify the methods. In this approach, drawings operate as representations of architecture, not geometric realities.

[6] Topology: In mathematics, the study of the properties of a geometric object that remains unchanged by deformations such as bending, stretching, or squeezing but not breaking.

[7] This surface relaxation is produced with a particle-spring system that simulates a nondirectional fabric resolving warp and weft tensions to produce a minimal surface. The irony of producing surface relaxation for volumetric architecture is not lost on us.

[8] With fabrication support by the University of Michigan Taubman College FABLab.

[9] Swarf machining is a technique that allows side cutting with an endmill while proceeding along the surface of a part, such as the sidewalls of a tapered rib.

[10] Two particle-spring systems have been used. The first was implemented by Simon Greenwold in Java as a library for “Processing,” an environment developed by Ben Fry and Casey Rease. gHowl by Luis Fraguada was used to communicate via UPD between processing and Grasshopper, a plugin developed by David Rutten for Rhinoceros, a program developed by Robert McNeil. The second particle-spring system was generated entirely inside Grasshopper with the aid of two plugins—Kangaroo by Daniel Piker served as the physics simulation of the particle-spring system and Hoopsnake by Volitile Prototypes allowed the data to loop back into the calculation.

[11] For more on this topic see my text “Thick Funicular” in Pidgin Magazine 11 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University School of Architecture, 2011): 220–239 and the 2012 ACSA International Conference proceedings.

Fellow Experience

A Conversation with Brandon Clifford
March 18, 2013

Stereotomy is “the art of cutting solids, more typically stone,” and the primary research interest of 2011 SOM Prize for Architecture, Design, and Urban Design Fellow Brandon Clifford. Recently, Clifford has served as the LeFevre Emerging Practitioner Fellow at The Ohio State University and is currently the Belluschi Lecturer at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. A Principal in Matter Design, Clifford’s work can be seen at the Boston Society of Architects’ Design Biennale Boston from February 21 through May 2013.

Your report sets a high standard for anybody who wins the SOM Prize in the future.

It was a lot of fun to pull it together. I was very grateful to receive the fellowship and do the work.

Is there a stone mason in your family?

No. My grandfather was a carpenter and I spent a lot of time working with wood when I was a kid. I had no idea how one would work with stone, so I wanted to look into it.

How did you become interested in stereotomy?

At Princeton, there’s a history of stereometric research. The ghost of architectural educator Robin Evans lingered around the school and I came across it after doing the Foam Tower Project when I was a first year graduate student. It was an installation project where they asked for a 10-foot by 10-foot cubic volume but never stipulated a height restriction. So, I used foam and went 60 feet up. I used stereotomy as a way to carve and it was much faster and more efficient than most digital technologies. I started looking into references of other uses of stereotomy—and that spawned this research platform.

What’s your current career trajectory?

I’m full-time faculty, so I see myself as an academic researcher. Even this exhibition is part of my research. I’m here [at MIT] for three years.

Many examples in your report are very old. Is that because you haven’t found new examples of stereotomy beyond your own work?

I do have contemporaries, but I tend to reference ancient predecessors, skip over the industrial era and situate myself close to other people, like Philippe Block. I just published with Giuseppe Fallacara, whose new book is called Stereotomy: Stone Architecture and New Research. I think this research has taken off because no one is working with stone today and, if they are, they’re using it as thin veneer. They call it stereotomy, but it’s an effort to create thinness. So it’s much easier to make ancient references. Ancient projects are always volumetric, heavy—the ones that have lasted.

We don’t know much about the ancient structures that fell down.

Exactly.

How did you become involved with Design Biennial Boston?

I just applied. It was a very brief application, but I think they looked at my website and saw "Volume" listed there. Someone purchased it and they started reading it. They asked me to see results of the research done through "Volume" to produce the project for the exhibit, which is really a no-brainer for me. That was going to happen anyway.

And the project is a half-scale stair?

Yes, it’s a baby stair. The first turn is at eye level, so you can’t get your head under a single turn.

I would think you don’t want people climbing on it.

Yeah. There’s a history of these small-scale prototype projects, like Phillip Johnson’s Pavilion on the lake at the Glass House. Or in Italy, at Palazzo Spada, Borromini created a forced perspective—it’s like an Alice in Wonderland tunnel.

Is every piece identical and cast of concrete?

Yes. My business partner, Wes McGee, and I made molds and we’re going to cast 80 treads from those molds.

What’s the mold made out of?

The mold is rubber and then there’s a plywood mother mold around the rubber. So the rubber’s kind of like an offset of the tread. The mold is one of the most complicated parts of this. That’s what we spend the majority of our time on.

How long has it been now since you finished the research that became “Volume?”

The travel ended in August 2012. It took another month and a half to complete the report. And then sort of a back and forth with editing and things like that. So the report was completed in December.

How do you see the SOM Foundation award as an influence on your career?

It was a real opportunity coming out of graduate school with financial support to do research. If I was trying to get into academia and working a job and trying to do research on the side, it would have been quite difficult.

Czech Republic, France, Germany, Greece, Italy, Spain, and Turkey

Indonesia

Mexico and Peru