Leif Johnson traveled to England, France, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands, Scotland, Spain, Switzerland, and Wales.
Leif Johnson
Washington University in St. Louis
School of Engineering
The Little Sports Palace by Pier Luigi Nervi, Rome, Italy. © Leif Johnson.
Jury
William Baker (Chair)
David Horos
Ralph Johnson
Patrick Loughran
Dan Wheeler
Although the specialized knowledge of mathematics and material science is essential in the field of structural engineering, the role of structural engineers in the design process should not be limited to the technical. Structural engineers have an obligation to the arts. We can make choices that contribute to the architects’ vision and improve the efficiency and aesthetics of structures.
Throughout my education, however, the focus was rarely on the aesthetic implications of our work, and it is safe to assume that most aspiring engineers are taught to place aesthetic issues in the back of their mind, or completely in the hands of the architect.
However, structural engineers can become structural artists if they have the right tools. We need sources of inspiration, just like any artist, and a promising source is nature. Natural forms and patterns can spark innovative and exciting solutions to engineering problems. Organic forms are inherently efficient and much of what we perceive as aesthetically pleasing has its roots in nature.
Engineers also receive an educational benefit when looking toward nature for inspiration because the act forces us to take a more holistic problem-solving approach. Great structural artists like Robert Maillart and Pier Luigi Nervi wrote against the tendency to overcomplicate analyses. They believed that a structural engineer should take a step back, study the problem from a more holistic viewpoint, and be confident about how the chosen structural form resists the applied forces. [1] By becoming bogged down in the calculations, we can lose sight of the heart of the structural design process. Nature is a resource that allows us to temporarily forget the numbers and attack the problem from a direction that may lead to a better solution: an efficient design with a surprisingly simple elegance.
Although a macroscopic approach in the design process is advantageous, engineers should obviously not “shoot from the hip” and use overly simplistic approaches that inaccurately model the structural actions involved. We live in the age of the computer, with powerful analysis tools that save time and money. It is not practical to play with strings and soap films in the office all day when we have form-finding computer programs, but we should not allow the computer to become a crutch that hinders our creativity or clouds our instincts.
We also cannot blindly mimic natural forms. It is limiting and opposes the definition of an engineer. An engineer creates things that have not previously existed, and innovative designs will most likely not spring from a picture of a plant. It is important to “look inside and find the interior motif that builds outward again.” [2] There exists an underlying technical precision in all of nature. As the architect Santiago Calatrava quotes from Einstein: “God does not roll dice.” Nothing is accidental. The seemingly chaotic patterns in nature have a definite order, such as fractals, geometric shapes that reflect coastlines or the branching of trees and arteries—or the numbers that define the Fibonacci series, which represent natural growth patterns, such as the spirals in snail shells, sunflowers, and pineapple skins. [3]
The best key to success is to maintain a balance between the vital holistic viewpoint and our fundamental technical expertise. For example, we can create tree columns to support a roof, which leads to an efficient method to channel vertical forces, limit the number of columns required, and improve the aesthetics of the structure. However, a tree never supports heavy loads from the tips of its branches. Instead, the pattern of branching is most likely for the efficient transport of water and nutrients and to maximize exposure to the sun. Thus, we are careful when materializing this inspiration by designing the branches of the tree columns with the proper proportions and geometry, a task that could not be accomplished without a solid understanding of the behavior of the material under the applied forces.
© Leif Johnson.
The SOM Foundation’s Structural Engineering Traveling Fellowship provided me with an invaluable opportunity to explore my interest in nature-inspired structural art in Western Europe, an area rich in structural art history. I wanted to survey the possibilities, regardless of if the designers had a conscious focus on nature as their source of inspiration. I planned to study efficiency, economy, and aesthetics, along with comparing the similarities and differences between the structural form of the building or bridge and specific organic forms like soap films, honeycombs, virus proteins, and spider webs.
I soon realized that economy is difficult to study because it is a social issue that depends on the time and place the structure was built. Instead, as Mike Schlaich of Schlaich, Bergermann und Partner in Stuttgart, Germany pointed out to me, we should focus on value. Should we not pay more for a structure that people love to work in, live in, drive across, or visit? I decided to study the efficiency and aesthetics of the structural art, along with the validity of my perceived connection with the structures and specific natural forms.
However, during my trip, three nature-inspired themes kept surfacing to the forefront of my thoughts. I want to call them themes because a theme is a recurrent idea and a subject of artist representation. When I visited and touched most of these impressive structures, I thought about how they are linked to one or some of these themes:
The themes, although connected to specific natural forms, were the true sources of my inspiration. They reinforced all the reasons I had studied to be a structural engineer, a rare profession that demands technical proficiency while allowing for creativity.
Lyon airport and rail station, Lyon, France. © Leif Johnson.
My intent is that this report inspires as my experience has inspired me. For structural engineers specifically, I want to show how nature is a fantastic source of inspiration, and by studying natural forms and patterns both externally and internally, we will improve the tools necessary to create beautiful, efficient, and innovative structures.
The experience is unique to the individual. That fact is the spirit of art. I want to present the structures by focusing more on their aesthetic impact, allowing my photographs to take the lead role. I believe the structural engineering profession will best improve when inspired engineers, already technically sound, grip the creative opportunities to design beautiful structures and inspire more engineers to do the same.
Notes
[1] David P. Billington, The Tower and the Bridge: The New Art of Structural Engineering (New York: Basic Books, Inc., 1983).
[2] Cecil Balmond, Informal (London: Prestel, 2002), 170.
[3] Balmond, Informal, 170, 260.
Leif Johnson
Washington University in St. Louis
School of Engineering
grew up in Iowa City, Iowa and was active in basketball and tennis before attending Lawrence University in Wisconsin (to play more tennis) and later at Washington University in St. Louis where he obtained undergraduate degrees in Physics and Civil Engineering. Johnson stayed on at Washington University in St. Louis to receive his master’s degree in Structural Engineering. During graduate school, Johnson taught an engineering unit to St. Louis sixth graders, which included helping the students design peanut butter and sugar cube buildings that would be subjected to a shake table test. Johnson is currently a licensed structural engineer with over sixteen years of experience designing high-profile civic structures, museums, and performing arts centers throughout the United States. Johnson leads the StructureCraft Seattle office and focuses on innovative timber design.
