
As architects, most of us spend our entire careers designing buildings, and if we are lucky it’s a structure that stimulates, inspires, and contributes positively to the environment. Rarely do we have opportunities to work on projects with no guidelines, zoning requirements, or local building codes; where we are allowed to reinvent the unexpected, push limits, and let our imagination rule. But such design freedom creates new hurdles to overcome; and what architect doesn’t like a challenge?
I recently participated in a FXFOWLE pro bono project that challenged me as a designer unlike any other – to design and construct a shelter for a colony of feral cats in New York City. According to current estimates, tens of thousands of homeless, stray, and free-roaming cats live on the streets and in alleyways, back yards, and abandoned lots throughout the city. Many of the cats live in groups known as “colonies.” The winter months are particularly difficult for these cats, when inclement weather creates serious and life-threatening challenges, including finding food, water, and shelter. Shelter is vitally important and that is where the NYC architectural community comes in.
Architects for Animals “Giving Shelter” benefits the Mayor’s Alliance for New York City Animals. Architectural firms participating in this endeavor design, build, and donate creative and fun outdoor shelters to provide the city’s homeless cats with refuge from the cold/freezing temperatures in winter as part of the NYC Feral Cat Initiative. The only “rules” for the shelter was that it had to hold at least one colony a feral cats (anywhere from 3-5), be warm, and weather-proof.

Initial Design Concepts Pin-Up
During initial meetings with other FXFOWLE volunteers, we focused our cat structure concept as a dual-purpose public bench and shelter, but through various design meetings and researching feral cat behavior, we decided on pursuing a more sculptural/object approach. Primarily, our design evolved into a kitty “pod hotel” with an interstitial space and plywood frame serving as a “kitty jungle gym”, with a central “atrium” providing access to each pod. The structure contains 3 fully-insulated pods varying in length, which serve as shelter for the cats during the colder, winter months. Two non-insulated pods can be inserted into the structure for the summer if additional housing is needed. Each pod contains a pair of hinged doors to allow entry from either end, as well as to provide two means of egress in case of a threat. The pods are easily removable from the plywood frame for maintenance and repair, and can be retrofitted or swapped out to accommodate growing colonies or different seasons.


1:5 Scale Chipboard Model
Using the concept of a vacuum flask (thermos) to house the cats, each insulated pod was fabricated by placing a tube within a larger tube and filling the void between the two with insulation. A 10” PVC tube wrapped with recycled plastic insulation was placed into a 12” PVC tube and the two ends were filled with expanding foam insulation and capped with a laser cut white acrylic ring onto which the cat doors were fixed. All joints and seams were filled with silicone sealant to make the pods water resistant. Each non-insulated pod was produced using a 10” PVC tube wrapped in ½” sisal rope and capped at each end with cat doors. The sisal rope provides a scratch surface for sharpening claws and a textured surface for cats to climb and lounge on. The frame, milled by students and faculty from Columbia University GSAPP Laboratory for Applied Building Science, was painted using a polyurethane based wood stain to seal the plywood and give it rich walnut color. Each of the vertical ribs and horizontal struts were fastened together using brad nails and flat-head screws.

Lucio checks the fit of the first pod
I am happy to have played a small role in bringing awareness to the issue of feral cats in the city. Our shelter is located somewhere in one of the city’s five boroughs, and it’s my hope our “clients” are using it as we imagined.
Thanks to Philip Anzalone, Brigette Borders, & Ray Ho from Columbia University GSAPP Laboratory for Applied Building Science for CNC milling the plywood. Also, thanks to Nobu Arai and Gerardo Sustaeta for assembly and fabrication of the pods and many thanks to Brien McDaniel for organizing the initiative.
ALL MATERIALS USED IN FXFOWLE’S SHELTER
2.5m long x 1.1m wide x .8m high
25 vertical ribs – 33 notches/rib
33 horizontal struts – 25 notches/strut
(10) ¾” sheets baltic birch plywood
(4) ½ pint Minwax American Chestnut Gloss Polyshade
(1) 10 foot 12” PVC tube
(1) 10 foot 10” PVC tube
(1) Roll recycled plastic insulation
(2) Expanding Foam Insulation spray cans
(10) Glaztec Catwalk cat doors
400 feet ½” sisal rope


Additional Links:
http://architectsforanimals.com/
http://www.facebook.com/mayorsalliancenyc
http://www.animalalliancenyc.org/

Watching a building come to fruition is the ultimate thrill of being an architect. This is what we live for and what sleep-deprived architecture students dream of. One of the perks of being an architect (aside from being the life of the party) is witnessing what you conceived becoming a reality. Each time I walk a construction site of a project I helped design, I’m reminded of the day I laid out the structural grid or that time I struggled with a curtain wall detail. Seeing something that I sketched and conceptualized right in front of me is really an amazing experience.
But with that thrill also comes the realization that as much as we perform our due diligence during the design development and construction document phases, unexpected problems do occur. And there is a commonality among the problems in that many begin outside the confines of our architectural offices. After years of working on construction sites, I’ve noticed some recurring themes that I find to be helpful reminders for when I’m back in the office:
1. Don’t design a Swiss Watch. Since Rolex won’t be bidding on my job, I’ll keep the Swiss watch making to those who know best. But there is no denying that over the past 25 years, the infrastructure needed to support a building’s functions has become increasingly complicated, not unlike the workings of a timepiece. Combine the IT revolution with the rise of LEED and spatial requirements for consulting engineers (including, but not limited to MEP, FP, FA, IT, AV, BMS, Geotechnical, Vertical Transport, Lighting, Acoustics, Security, etc. For brevity, blogger will use MEP) have literally gone through the roof……and ceiling and floor. Compounding this complexity, some buildings have limited area for equipment or reduced floor to floor heights for any number of reasons. Others have mandated programmatic or performance requirements that need to be achieved to meet regulatory guidelines. So, to avoid the Swiss watch making:
Note to Self: Place special emphasis on avoiding MEP bottlenecks that might otherwise increase the likelihood of RFIs, bulletins, or field modifications that might lead to change orders or delay claims by the contractor.
2. Build the entire building before you get to the site. With the advent of BIM, it’s much easier than it used to be. Now I’m not yet a BIM user, but a colleague familiar with BIM once told me that the model is only as good as the information being put into it. For me, this means not assuming the 24” high duct on the mechanical drawings is really 24”. In reality, that 24” high duct has 1-1/2” flanges, is wrapped in 2” of insulation and supported on 1-1/2” unistruts which adds up to 33” (I know it doesn’t add up, it never does). Pipes, ducts and conduit always have accessories that need to be accounted for when modeling what will be built in the field. So, to ensure I don’t miss anything:
Note to Self: Bombard consultants with questions about what exactly they need to physically support and maintain the performance of their systems. Also, contact structural engineer to inquire about anticipated slab and beam deflection at critical ceiling heights where MEP is highly congested.
3. Constantly meet with your consultants. Most problems I experience on the construction site are not related to the architectural drawings per se. More likely problems occur in those special voids that exist between us and our consultants. Orbiting those voids are differing world views of the same object. Our consultants are trained to design mechanical systems, determine head pressure, and calculate amps on panel boards. I’ve learned the hard way not to assume they’re looking at the spatial and structural implications for these assemblies the same way I would. And I shouldn’t assume they’re communicating among themselves. So to avoid any miscommunication:
Note to Self: Above and beyond the weekly coordination meetings, visit each consultant’s office every other week to ensure the lines of communication between them remain open and that everyone is on the same page.
4. Think like a contractor. Their agenda is different than ours. We want to get on the cover of a prestigious architectural magazine; they want to get in, build it, and get out. And that’s the way it should be. But all too often the process is not so clear cut. On my shelf in the construction trailer I keep a copy of The Contractor’s Guide to Change Orders by Anthony Civitello Jr. This is a great reference manual for any architect who wants to get into the head of a contractor. More importantly, it provides a window into why change orders occur. The book, when read from a contractor’s perspective, provides a detailed change order process analogous to a fishing expedition. But when read from the architect’s point of view, it provides a preemptive strategy for not swallowing the bait. So, when putting a set of drawings together:
Note to Self: Think about the project from the contractor’s perspective. Refer back to Anthony Civitello’s ‘Contractor’s Guide to Change Orders’ in order to mitigate potential construction site problems.
For me, the challenge of the construction site is navigating our design through the confluence of time and money. As architects, we are a highly focused bunch; designing buildings, meeting deadlines and staying on budget, not to mention keeping everyone happy. But an understanding of how others parties perceive a project often affects how we perform on the construction site and ultimately how the project turns out. This understanding alone cannot prevent the unexpected from occurring during construction, but it can make life easier out in the field.
This is the first in a series of an architect’s observations and perspectives from a construction site.
As a member of the Board of Directors for the Citizen’s Housing & Planning Council (CHPC), a non-profit research organization founded in 1937 to improve housing and neighborhood conditions throughout New York City, I have been fortunate to help organize and participate in a number of unique programs.
Two years ago, CHPC Executive Director, Jerilyn Perine, and Senior Policy Analyst, Sarah Watson, launched a program, “One Size Fits Some,” which examined housing standards in New York City, in comparison to other regions of the country as well as the world. The objective was to learn from other cultures as a means of redefining allowable housing units in New York City, in response to changing lifestyle and demographic patterns. Subsequent investigations identified key parts of New York City housing laws and codes that are currently acting as regulatory barriers to the development of new housing types, critically needed for the safety and continued prosperity of New York City.

This past week, CHPC in collaboration with The Architectural League presented a sequel to the previous analysis, “Making Room,” a daylong program that was presented on Monday, November 7, 2011, at the Japan Society. Making Room included presentations from four New York City teams of architects led by Peter Gluck, Stan Allen and Rafi Segal, Deborah Gans, and Jonathan Kirschenfeld, which suggested ways of redefining how we live in New York.
The program opened with an introduction from Linda Gibbs, New York City Deputy Mayor for Health and Human Services. As she explained, “the major issue is that the traditional household is changing; New York has more people living alone than ever before.” Additionally, as the baby boomer population is aging, we are about to enter a period where there will be more people over 65 than below 18 years of age, for the first time in New York City’s history.
It was explained that most housing units in New York are designed to serve the typical nuclear family; however we are increasingly living in more diverse, non-traditional household configurations. As a consequence, young professionals, low wage workers, and members of the “creative class,” have highly limited housing options that are safe, legal, affordable, and suit their needs. Additionally, the typical unit does not support the lifestyle of a single parent, a transient worker, or our ever-increasing aging population.
As part of the program, I participated as a respondent to Jonathan Kirschenfeld’s presentation, “The Pleasures of Density: Flexible Single and Shared Housing Typologies.” Kirschenfeld began the presentation by showing how affordable housing options for single persons have disappeared over the last 50 years. He explained that supportive housing regulations in Use Group 2 permit small unit sizes and reduced areas for rearyard courtyards in community facilities. However, for the typical residential tenant, housing standards are defined by Use Group 3 that requires a much larger unit and an extensive rear-yard setback and/or courtyard. Additionally, shared facilities are not easily accommodated.

Plan and perspective cut at the duplex apartment level of ‘The Mix’ building, showing a planted roof terrace and coffee bar, overlooking a ‘greened’ Grand Concourse. Such shared amenities for building residents link the individual dwelling units to the dense city beyond.
As a consequence, Kirschenfeld suggested that if we were allowed to design residential buildings for single tenants under Use Group 2, we could create greater densities, create more affordable units, and offer more housing options. He showed a scheme for a new residential building, “The Mix,” on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. The building included very small single room units with shared common space. It also included live-work duplexes and loft units for a multiple of lifestyles. What was unique about Kirschenfeld’s approach was that it also suggested an attitude about blurring the distinction between inside and outside by greening the Grand Concourse and creating more opportunities to let activity to spill out on the street.
I reminded the participants of the quote from Eliel Saarinen, “Always design a thing by considering it in its next larger context–a chair in a room, a room in a house, a house in an environment, and an environment in a city plan.” By embracing the city as a whole as a part of the program, we are creating a city that supports our future needs.
What I appreciated most about the “Making Room” discussion is that architects are having a voice in public policy in the City. Five years ago, when I was President of the AIA New York Chapter, my theme was “Architecture and Public Policy,” and I spoke about the need for architects to have a voice, as policy decisions are defined by our governing bodies. What has been great about working with CHPC and the Architectural League in concert with City officials on this program is that there is an appreciation that architects are part of the dialogue as we define the city to respond to our future needs. Now we need to stop talking and make some of these ideas really happen.
Webster’s Dictionary defines the word sketch as “a rough drawing representing the chief features of an object or scene and often made as a preliminary study.” Note the word “rough.” Because the drawing is not intended to be a finished work, pressure is relieved from the sketcher. It becomes all about the “process” vs. the “product.” And this is why I find sketching to be such a joy.
For me, sketching serves as a design tool for work, and a past-time hobby. Ever since I was a child, my parents nurtured sketching; in fact, we would go on “sketching day trips.” Sketching continued to be part of my life as a student studying architecture abroad where I spent hours sketching the monuments of Paris and villas of Palladio. In the beginning I sketched to learn for a school grade. Later, sketching gave me a purpose, something to do after summer jobs and while hanging out by myself. As a person who spent a lot of time alone, sketching was perfect.
Over the years, the process of sketching became more than the actual act, but an event that included finding a subject of inspiration and a perfect spot (most likely in the shade, and away from traffic and curious observers). This alone could take hours, sometimes more time than the actual sketch itself. It was this process of discovery – searching for the perfect site by foot or bike and exploring the unknown – which I grew to love so much.


As my life and work are more and more compromised, sketching becomes a form of therapy; helping me feel better about myself. It also serves as an outlet to express myself and a way to document my life.
Mountain climbers climb mountains because they love the challenge and it is also similar to practicing meditation when they can forget about life and just concentrate on the singular act of climbing. For me, sketching does the same thing. Sketching is a dialog between your eyes and hand that allows your brain to enter into to a realm of deep concentration; where you can forget everything around you and lose track of time. It can be very therapeutic and stress relieving, just like meditation. I love Paul Klee’s quote “A drawing is simply a line going for a walk.” One can lose oneself in a sketch and the result can be surprising and rewarding.

The hardest thing about sketching is finding the right time and place, since it is a solitary act. Being alone is difficult, especially in our social world. These days I am occupied by the needs of my family, which is probably why sketches of family life overwhelm my sketchbook, as well as many commuting train travel sketches. However, with all my commitments and priorities I find the time or I make the opportunities. Idle moments, such as waiting for friends or for the bus/train are perfect times for a “challenging quickie sketch.” A café with a good view, up on the roof, or sitting in Union Square or Madison Square Park are great places for a lunch time sketch.

Even though I am in the habit of having my sketchbook with me at all times, I have to admit, the majority of the time it returns home sketch-less. I find I have to be in the right mood and/or inspired by the subject/idea. Sketching seems to happen in waves, since a book, movie, podcast, friends or just plain laziness easily distract and tempt me. It really makes me admire the amazing prolific sketchbooks of Leonardo De Vinci. One year I made a resolution to sketch (almost) everyday in a journal. It could be about anything, a thought, an idea. It took a lot of discipline. But eventually I realized that I was not Leonardo. My sketchbook didn’t burst with ideas, it contained mostly observations and documentation of daily life (yawn).

Through that experience, I realized that I don’t have to be like Leonardo to enjoy sketching. I think everyone is different and finds inspiration in many various things. I see some of my colleagues sketching design ideas in their journals, and I see trace paper filled with sketches lying around the office. This makes me happy to know that sketching is still very much alive. Even after so many years, I am still a shy sketcher but I have learned to ignore the curious eyes next to me on the train; I just pick up my favorite pen, go into the “sketch zone” and remember Webster’s Dictionary definition for “sketch.” It isn’t about the end result, it is about the process.
As an architect and a recreational golfer, I find it fascinating that professional golfers are able to use a combination of knowledge, strength, finesse, and technology to advance a golf ball to a very specific location on a fairway that is often several hundred feet away.

View of the 16th Green at Augusta National (Photo Credit: Scott Szybowicz, PGA)
While watching the recent Masters Golf Tournament I started thinking about the similarities between professional golfers and architects. Certainly, the efforts of an architect involved in the design of sustainable buildings also require a combination of knowledge, strength, finesse, and technology in order to achieve the high performance goals established by municipalities, building owners, and the architects themselves. And while professional golfers try to achieve the lowest score possible over the course of a tournament and architects designing under the LEED Green Building Rating System strive to achieve a high score, there do appear to be commonalities (some more serious than others) between architects and professional golfers if one applies a few of the LEED 2009 rating system category requirements to playing professional golf:
Sustainable Sites
Architect: Optimize site’s potential through appropriate site selection. Protect or restore habitat.
Professional Golfer: Adjust stance for varied ground conditions. Avoid playing out of natural areas adjacent to the fairway.
Water Efficiency
Architect: Increase water use efficiency through the use of innovative wastewater technologies.
Professional Golfer: Consume only the amount of water needed to achieve optimal golf performance.
Energy and Atmosphere
Architect: Accounting of building energy consumption over time to verify energy savings.
Professional Golfer: Review performance statistics and rankings to identify areas requiring improvements.
Materials and Resources
Architect: Employ materials in the most economical manner via reuse, recycling, and renewables.
Professional Golfer: Use the best technology and advice from caddy to achieve lowest score within the USGA rules.
Indoor Environmental Quality
Architect: Focus on the comfort and well-being of the building occupants.
Professional Golfer: Wear proper clothing for the weather conditions.
Innovative Design
Architect: Using strategies not addressed in LEED 2009 or achieving exemplary performance in a LEED 2009 credit requirement.
Professional Golfer: Exemplary passion, competitive spirit, work ethic, innovative thinking, and talent are the keys to a successful golf career.
Regional Priority
Architect: Address geographically-specific environmental priorities.
Professional Golfer: Adjust shot making to fit different golf course layouts and weather conditions.
As a believer in the inspiring nature of professional achievement, the example of a single golf shot that stops within a minute fraction of its ultimate goal is a visual reminder of what architects try to achieve on each and every project. With the recent positive influences of LEED, the 2030 Challenge, PlaNYC, and other sustainable design initiatives, we are all moving closer to the day when the design of sustainable buildings, in both new construction and renovation work, becomes prevalent. Like professional golfers, architects should always be looking to “shoot for the flagstick” in order to bring to realization the most sustainable work possible.
Having recently been awarded a project for a new Wellness Hotel about 120 km north of Baku in Azerbaijan last month, I had the pleasure of visiting an intriguing part of the world not often seen by U.S. travelers. On the western shores of the Caspian Sea, and due east of Turkey and Armenia, one feels truly in the “east” here. An oil-rich country that was once part of the Soviet Union, Azerbaijan has enjoyed a recent petro-dollar boom. Baku, the principal city of 4 million, is one part “old Russia”, one part “Soviet” and one part Dubai. It is not uncommon to see a Range Rover or Bentley side-by-side with a vintage LADA.


Our project site – immediately below a 7thcentury fort – is located in Qalaalti (“under the fort” in Azeri), situated in the Deveiçi region.

View of 5th century fort which sits above the site of a new Wellness Hotel that we are designing

Old Soviet-era Spa building @ the site

Due to its dramatic beauty, Caspian Sea views, and natural sources of therapeutic spring water, Qalaalti has attracted tourists and those seeking healthy treatments for decades. During the Soviet-era, it was a prize location for the 3 week summer holidays (factory-collective sponsored) that were the birth-rite of every proletariat.

Left: Celebratory lunch (yes we killed the WHOLE bottle!), Right: The Bosphorus at sunrise from the plane on the way home
Now we will reinvent this truly unique and special place for a new era. It will hopefully serve as a source of regeneration for visitors as well as the region.
I am an architect and the mother of a four-year-old little girl. A child crash lands into your life and disrupts everything. Some things become less important and some things much more so. My commitment to sustainability became a passion as I resolved to leave a better world for my daughter. An architect’s hours have never been 9 to 5, but as a mother, figuring out how to work deadlines and networking events around breastfeeding and bonding time has become a careful balancing act. And sometimes having a child has had a more direct impact on my work.
As an architect focused on interiors, I have designed many toilet rooms. There have been executive bathrooms that define corporate excess and building standard toilets where maintenance is the biggest concern. While I can’t say that I have ever been really excited about working on a bathroom, it can be interesting. There are many considerations in addition to aesthetics, including water conservation, maintenance and accessibility.
I can layout ADA compliant toilet stalls in my sleep. I know how much water various toilets use and, perhaps more than any woman should know about waterless urinals. I check out the bathrooms everywhere I go with a designer’s eye for detail and an appreciation for functional elegance. However, I never realized how limited my perspective was until it was radically changed by having a baby.
Maneuvering a stroller in a cramped restroom gave me an appreciation for spacious layouts, and a real understanding and enormous respect for the issues faced by people in wheelchairs. Baby-changing stations went from a large, unattractive accessory I might need to design a space for, to an important item with critical relationships to other restroom items, such as waste containers. And then it’s time for toilet training.
Imagine you are three years old, and have just decided that it might be okay to use a potty for your business instead of the diaper that has served you well as a portable toilet for your entire life. It’s still a little scary, but you are determined to be a big kid. Your mommy takes you to the potty and you are proudly going peepee, when all of a sudden, there is a thunderous noise coming from below and you leap screaming from the toilet.
That is what happened to my daughter on opening day at Citi Field last year. We had just started toilet training and had not used an automatic toilet before. We have since discovered that toilets with sensors don’t always recognize there is a tiny person using the toilet, but we didn’t know that at the time. That first experience made a lasting impression. Since then, my daughter enters any public toilet with one question foremost in her mind – Does it have a button or a handle?
A handle means she’s in charge of flushing. A button means the toilet is in charge, and she doesn’t appreciate that. When she sees the button that indicates it’s an automatic toilet, she often decides she no longer needs to go. Trying to explain to a small child that we’re not going home for a while and she needs to just get over her fears, is a lost cause.
In the year since that first experience, my daughter and I have explored many public toilets. We have discovered that while the sensor might not be reliable, if you cover it with a jacket and you don’t talk to the toilet, it won’t flush before you are ready. We have learned to check every stall in a toilet room, since sometimes there are different flushometers in different stalls. We know which toilet room in Penn Station has the buttons and which one has the handles. It still takes some convincing to get my daughter on a toilet with a ‘button,’ but we’ve made progress, and I think by they time she’s twelve it will no longer be a concern.
Now that we’ve got toilet training under control, I think it’s time to move on to larger issues, such as energy conservation. She doesn’t really need that light on all night, does she?
This post is the first in a series exploring the delicate balance of work, motherhood and sustainability.
Haiti has been flooded with designers and architects from all over the world with visions of how to recreate the country. Projects range from towers on pillars in the middle of the ocean to master plans proposing to build a few inches on top of the debris. Although the ideas are provocative, it seems they can only be realized many years from now, once high risks zones have been identified. Ultimately, the millions of displaced are caught between learning from past mistakes and building towards a better and brighter future by the need to create structures that will withstand various site pressures.

Images provided by HaitiSOFTHOUSE
One of the answers to the cries of progress is The HaitiSOFTHOUSE, whose team comprises Architects Lonn Combs, Rodney Leon, Dragana Zoric, and artist Mark Parsons. The soft house project is the first step toward moving Haiti forward with integrity.
The HaitiSOFTHOUSE transitional shelter comprises an easy-to-assemble, structural steel frame, cladded with a high performance fabric that can withstand the pressures of a Caribbean rainy season, including tropical storms and hurricanes. The structure is able to adapt to various soil conditions, and anchors directly into the ground. Once assembled, it is a healthy, environmentally-ventilated shelter that can be combined with other units to form spaces that address specific domestic and community needs.
After securing a site in Jacmel Haiti, the team collaborated with The Rural Haiti Project, which has constructed initial prototypes in June of 2010 for testing. This endeavor evolved into the creation of the SOFTVILLAGE. The structure is designed to be assembled and erected by very few people in one day or less. The structure’s parts includes two types of anchors depending on soil conditions, cable, a vent, screws, washers and bolts, and a few pipes at different lengths and angles. The soft house is 16 feet at its widest and 11’8” at its tallest.
The dimension of the tent-like design is proportioned to the human scale and with the understanding of the user’s needs. Unlike a traditional tent, the user does not have to crawl into the structure, he or she can walk inside with pride through an actual front door; giving the structure a home-like quality.
“There needs to be a more strategic and centralized plan for the redevelopment of Haiti that takes into account transitional needs until more permanent structures can be constructed,” said Mr. Leon, the project manager. “The time for talk is over and the time to implement these solutions is at hand – and long overdue.”
The HaitiSOFTHOUSE team is in the process finding funding to match a $50,000 grant from Deutsche Bank to mass produce the transitional homes. For more information and to learn how to be a part of this great project please see their website: http://www.haitisofthouse.org
Pascale continues her conversation with Minnie more about the process of developing and building the FabLab house.
Describe the FabLab team and your roles?
Institute for Advanced Architecture of Catalonia (IAAC), with whom we collaborated, selected seven researchers from around the world, including Japan, Taiwan, Lithuania, Australia, France, and Mexico. We were in charge of design, structure, 3D modeling, communication with engineers and consultants, constructions documents, and actual construction.

As a LEED Architectural Design was there a sustainable system, either active or passive, that you learned while working on the FabLab house?
Instead of thinking of either active or passive systems, the Fablab house approached sustainability with four points.
Form follows energy: If the twentieth century championed the premise that ‘form follows function,’ the 21st century will be about ‘form follows energy.’ The house is no longer a machine but an organism to be inhabited.
A climate-passive structure: The Fab Lab House uses the resources of its environment—sun, water and wind—to create a microclimate that passively optimizes the basic conditions of habitability.
A house, a tree: A house is like a tree that captures energy with its solar ‘leaves’ and sends it down to its roots, where it is stored, shared, or returned to the house to produce the fruit of electricity.
A domestic metabolism: The house’s control system is designed to provide detailed real-time monitoring of its behavior and its interaction with the environment, creating historical profiles and sharing these socially.
What are some lessons learned?
FabLab house’s goal is to not industrialize production but to allow any person to manufacture a home anywhere in the world, from the platform of FabLabs, or Fabrication Laboratories. Most importantly, we can build a house with our own hands. In looking for a suitable structural system that also allowed us to fabricate digitally, we found Alvaro Siza, Eduardo Souto de Moura, and Cecil Balmond’s Serpentine pavilion to be a great example of how to put parts together with minimal tolerance.
What were the challenges in constructing in the elements?
We proposed a pre-fabricated wooden construction in which all its structural components are computerized numerical controlled (CNC) cut from 2.5m x 12m laminated veneer lumber (LVL) sheets. All 3000 pieces have their own unique names, and keeping track of them and grouping them properly is the key for fast construction. Similar to a giant 3D puzzle, once you find A-1, you know the next piece would be A-2 and so on. These pieces combined into twenty portions that were assembled at IAAC’s warehouse in Barcelona then transported to Madrid. This ensured we had all the correct parts and reduced on site modification. Each structural member had a 1-2 mm tolerance. However, not all pieces were precut correctly, but since we were using wood it was simple to modify the pieces on site.

Provided by Daisuke Nagatomo & Minnie Jan
Describe the design, construction and exhibition processes?
The design and construction proceeded in parallel rather than linearly. The Solar Decathlon Europe organization gave feed back after each construction document submission and each team needed to modify and comply with all rules and regulations before entering the next stage. The process included ten days of construction and inspections, then ten days of competition during which the projects were open to public, and the four days of disassembly. In all, we had about 190,000 visitors to the Villa Solar, as the competition grounds were called.
How does it feel to have won the People’s Choice award?
We wanted to break the traditional box-shape solar house, and had taken a very high risk to create a visually striking image. It was very encouraging to know that the general public could appreciate our effort and enjoy their stay at the FabLab house.

Photo by ADRIÀ GOULA
The recent controversy surrounding the U.S. Department of Energy Solar Decathlon, which this year is being displaced from its traditional sight on the National Mall in Washington DC to a yet to be decided venue, prompted me to learn more about this event. I took the opportunity to talk to my former FXFOWLE colleague Minnie Jan, who participated with her team FabLab in the Solar Decathlon Europe in 2010.
The Solar Decathlon occurs every two years, in Europe on the even years, in America on the odd years, and China is set to join in 2013. Collaborating with the Institute for Advanced Architecture of Catalonia (IaaC), the FabLab team produced a provocative design for a net zero home designed for a specific location, 2010’s site was in Madrid, with its particular solar resource and climatic demands.

Photograph by Daisuke Nagatomo & Minnie Jan
FabLab’s design, a rounded, solar panel coated, passive house assembled from prefabricated wood glulam panels that form an ellipsoid rib-like structure, rises on piloti of sorts to create air circulation space beneath the home and to impact the site minimally. Simultaneously, as the passive design increases in efficiency, intelligent systems become increasingly effective in monitoring and controlling the home’s temperature and energy use.
Fascinated with the design, I asked Minnie Jan more about the process.
How was working in Spain? How different or similar was the construction methods?
As a first timer in Spain, I found it incredibly beautiful and full of history. However, Spain is extremely hot and humid during summer, so we considered those factors in figuring tolerances for a wood construction house. Solar Decathlon Europe is a competition between universities from all over the world, but all construction methods have to comply with U.S. codes or standard codes of the schools locales.
What was the most challenging aspect of the home design process, why?
There were three challenges: geometry, space, and construction. A standard paraboloid section is suitable for solar tracking—per year per day. We deformed it to get optimal orientation for summer—narrowing to the west, eastward widening and flattening toward the zenith of 70 degrees. The freedom of the paraboloid prototype model allowed us to swiftly and smoothly adapt the prototype’s envelope.

Provided by Daisuke Nagatomo & Minnie Jan
The FabLab House’s rounded shape maximizes internal volume with minimal exterior surface, and it elevates off the ground upon three ‘legs’ in order to create a space under the house for certain outdoor activities. Using the house itself to create shaded space allows cooled air to be introduced into the home for natural ventilation. This simultaneously creates a comfortable outdoor space that doubles the living area. These three ‘legs’ are structural and provide special points for programs and technical equipment for ground level access.
Solar Decathlon Europe required all homes to be assembled and disassembled on site at Madrid in ten days. Thus we designed the house so it could separate into 20 parts and be transported by five trucks. All plumbing and electricity were also pre-designed to be connected on site and be fully functional.

Provided by Daisuke Nagatomo & Minnie Jan
What programs or equipment did FabLab use to prepare the design for construction?
The maximum solar incident radiation in Madrid informed the prototype, so we used Ecotec to adjust the building position to maximize the surface area for solar panels. Achieving a desired volume and footprint, we then used Rhino to construct a precise 3D model, including plug-ins such as Grasshopper, to produce the necessary information for digital fabrication.
Next post I’ll talk with Minnie more about the process of developing and building the FabLab house. READ MORE >