Agitation, Power, Space: An Interview with Ole Bouman

[Image: Ole Bouman, photographed by Cassander Eeftinck Schattenkerk].

In May 2005, Ole Bouman and Rem Koolhaas co-founded Volume. Volume was meant as both a magazine and a "global idea platform... dedicated to experimentation and the production of new forms of architectural discourse." The tenth issue of Volume was published last month.

On April 1, 2007, Ole Bouman will become Director of the Netherlands Architecture Institute in Rotterdam. As he explained in an NAI press release, that role will involve "draw[ing] inspiration from the major spatial challenges of our time."

In the following interview, Bouman talks to BLDGBLOG about some of these "spatial challenges," including the role of "agitation" in architecture; who the real audience for architectural journalism might be; the "politics of the spectacular"; unexpected possible side-effects of long-term investment in China; public space and dialogue in post-conflict cities; and the future of the Netherlands Architecture Institute.

• • •
BLDGBLOG: The new issue of Volume is themed around agitation. What exactly does that mean in the context of architecture?

Ole Bouman: Agitation is, of course, a very general category. It’s also a cultural term that has strong political connotations. In terms of Volume, as a way of approaching architecture, I think it’s good to cover that theme, to explore agitation in the present state of affairs, and to challenge the accepted formats, the accepted language, the accepted procedures in architecture. It’s a way to expand the architectural imagination in a way.

BLDGBLOG: You’ve said that part of this comes through asking why in architecture.

Bouman: Well, I think it’s very important to acknowledge the necessity of asking why in general. In a culture where people, at a very early stage of their careers, are forced to stick to their subject – or to a specific role – there is, in my view, an extreme urgency to keep asking why. Why, in a way, is a very innocent question and a very childish question – but it is also a very important question. It doesn’t allow you to take things for granted in terms of the role you play in society, or the service you provide to society and things like that. It always brings you back to fundamental questions about your presence, your role, your possibilities – etc. etc. So it’s an extremely important question, and, I would hope, a very obvious question – but, unfortunately, it is not so common anymore.

Posing it so explicitly – pushing forward this notion of why – is itself already a critical act. This is in contrast to presenting what you’re doing, how you are doing it, or – more gossipy – who is doing something. Who and what and how are, of course, very important questions, and there is a big market for those questions: everybody knows that you can make a lot of money presenting what has been done by other people. And there is a growing market now for information about the person behind the built work, the personality behind the building. But for why there is no natural market.

So we are trying to create a momentum behind this spirit, to create a market for why. And if we find sufficient international readers who share this attitude – asking why wherever they go and whatever they do – then maybe this project is sustainable in the long term. But this is an experiment, and we don’t know yet where it will go.

BLDGBLOG: In Volume #6 you refer to the idea that clients are a kind of “necessary evil.” But what’s interesting, in the context of architecture, is that magazines like Dwell and Metropolis are more popular than ever – which seems, at the very least, to indicate that clients read magazines, too. In other words, the people who buy and commission architecture also want to read about architecture. Perhaps, then, the declining popularity of non-mass market architectural criticism simply indicates that critics are not writing for clients anymore – for the people who actually purchase architecture. Instead, they are writing for other architects, and so of course architectural criticism appears to be in decline. Where would Volume fit in, here?

Bouman: It is a good question. Of course, there are at least three different layers of clients. First of all, there are the people with money who want a program to be accommodated by an architectural work – in other words, a client in the traditional sense. But I don’t think that there is a sufficient market for a magazine that would address that specific group.

There is also the client, in terms of the decision-maker. Maybe that person is not about to commission an architect to do something now, but they may ask an architect to do something in the future. And there are decision-makers throughout society – so this is a much larger group. If magazines can address this group of decision-makers specifically, then they already have a bigger reader base.

But, of course, there is also a group of clients that thinks, maybe in a more metaphorical way, about architecture as a way of fulfilling their dreams or serving their interests, in both a material way and in a more idealistic sense. And if our readership is this larger group of people – a very mixed group – then you could say that we already do address clients as the people who ask questions to architects – not just ask for buildings from architects, but who ask architects to engage with these issues. They ask architects to address larger social issues, rather than just supply built stuff. This is a redefinition of architecture, from delivering an object to a definition of architecture that challenges certain issues within a larger cultural strategy.

I think there could be a great dialogue between architects and this group of people. And this spirit and interpretation of the client is perhaps what we are addressing. Of course, the question comes up: is it still necessary to call this group clients and not just the public? But I think it is a nice way to put it: to see those people, this larger group of people engaged in cultural issues, as clients, who ask questions without an immediate budget, without pointing at a specific site, without asking you to accommodate a program. They ask general questions of architecture, and that helps us mobilize architecture beyond one specific purpose.

BLDGBLOG: So we need a new, or different, kind of architect now, in addition to a new way of interacting with clients?

Bouman: Yes – and that brings me to the role of the architect in responding to the client. This can no longer be the reactive way that most architects work with clients. In the first definition I gave of the client, the client is asking a question: Architect X or Architect Y, can you do something for me, because I need you? The output of architecture, in that sense, is very reactive. It can only be based on a program, a budget, a site, an existing location, etc. etc. – but there is always something coming first, before the architectural act.

In the other description I gave of the client, there is more of a shared interest – a common interest – with architects addressing a cultural or political issue from the angle of architecture. So there is a dialogue between different people with a common curiosity, and that can evolve into a completely different output of the architectural discipline. It gives architects a new role, I think, in the long-term, and this may even give architecture its future legitimacy.

If an art form or a scientific discipline, in the end, only boils down to performing a service for other people, then it’s very hard to find cultural legitimacy for that discipline.

BLDGBLOG: Again in Volume #6, you differentiate between cities and what you call “large congregations of architecture.” I’m curious how this distinction plays out on the level of community, or local identity – what a region full of architecture might mean to its inhabitants.

Bouman: If you don’t distinguish between those two – if you think that applying urban form is the same as building a city, or even creating urban culture – then you make a very big mistake. First of all, I think it’s necessary for architectural criticism, in that sense, to find the right words for these very complicated processes, to distinguish between two processes or forms that, at first sight, appear the same, but that are, in reality, very different.

When Roemer van Toorn and I wrote the book The Invisible in Architecture in the early 1990s, we were directly reacting to an architecture culture which was taken hostage by the politics of the spectacular. It was an effort to figure out what was behind those fancy or glossy facades which were already highly present in the architectural press – and, in that sense, nothing has changed. There is still an incredible focus – not just among architects, but among clients – on an architecture that is strongest at first sight. The second sight or the third sight is not so important anymore. The invisible in architecture, in that sense, is still an interesting concept to explore: to figure out the intricacies of the architectural profession within a larger political context.

Beyond that, distinguishing between a city and these “large congregations of architecture” may also help architects to clarify their own position, and to see how they might want to work – to help draft a new agenda for the discipline. This brings us back to that notion of agitation. So agitation can also mean: keep going, keep defining alternative agendas that are not well known – or well accepted, or that are just undiscovered – and keep opening windows for other kinds of practice.

[Image: The CCTV building, Beijing, by Rem Koolhaas/OMA].

BLDGBLOG: In Volume #8, you write that China is “an emerging world for which we as yet have no concepts” – but perhaps we do have concepts for it, only we won’t find them in China: we’ll find them within the logic of Western globalization. Do you think, then, that the economic development of China is really just a mutant strain of something that has already happened in the West?

Bouman: Well, there are many angles that could be taken, and I think that’s a good one. It’s strange that China is seen as a new world by many Westerners, a land of opportunity, a place they all want to go. Investors are also looking at China as where they would like to put their money. So, in a way, it’s very similar to concepts we already do have – the concepts of innovation, of career, of success. But also, the concept of a return on your investment, the concept of economic growth – all of those well-known elements of the Western worldview that we all share.

On the other hand, China is still seen as another world. You have to go there. You have to get yourself a portfolio in China. Or you have to start your office, or open a new headquarters there – so there is always the concept of over there, of otherness. I talk to Chinese colleagues, and Chinese businesspeople, and they sometimes openly admit that this persistence of otherness, this persistence of the idea that this is a country that is different from the West, that you can go to, or send your money to, is helping China to take over. To put it dramatically.

So, in terms of capital, for instance, if you just consider the fact that 15 years of boundless investment in China – hundreds of billions of dollars of investment in China, within a very Western paradigm of finding the best returns – is also, in the long-term, undermining the Western position. So, in a Western way of thinking, and from a capitalist point of view, investing in China may actually accomplish the opposite of what investors intended. These kind of paradoxes are hardly understood.

If China is launching a new rocket, or a new satellite, or testing a new space weapon system, suddenly people wake up – but there is this strange anomaly between China as the promised land and China as the latent rival, the opponent, the growing danger. Either people accept that China is becoming part of a larger global system of capital, and so they aren’t afraid to give it its own momentum wherever it goes, or whatever it takes – that is just the price you pay for growth. Or you say: we can no longer accept this – and this might be a moment that is not so far away anymore, a moment of regression or conservatism. Some governments will say that we can no longer go there, maybe, because we would not like to add to the power and culture of China. It’s still very fashionable to host Chinese festivals and to invite Chinese artists and to buy Chinese art – but the moment might not be so far away when we ask: why would we pay for China? If it reinforces or strengthens their power?

I feel sometimes that we are just a little bit away from the moment when this paradox, this anomaly, will erupt into a more existential question. What do we do? Do we keep adding to the strength of China? Or do we go back to this kind of Western chauvinism, or nationalism, and not allow architects, for instance, to work in China or to allow Western investors to invest in China?

I think, in the work of Rem Koolhaas, for instance, this anomaly is almost already on the surface. On the one hand there’s this admiration of the great architect with an incredible track record who goes to build in China, who creates a new monument, a kind of signal of what architecture can do, an incredible achievement. On the other hand, there is this latent, almost open criticism: what does this do for China? Are we giving away our assets to the enemy? I think in the whole discussion around the CCTV Building you see this tension between chauvinism and internationalism, between western interests and the interests of globalization in general, and many other dialectics in the debate being played out through that specific building. That’s why the building is so interesting. As a metaphor, it represents much more than just the fact that it is built for an institution of Chinese power by a powerful western architect; it also reveals something that has to do with the dynamics of our culture – and where architecture can do that, then architecture is gaining in legitimacy.

BLDGBLOG: I’m interested in your work – and Volume’s work – with cities like Beirut, Ramallah, and Prishtina. Could you tell me a bit more about the role of architecture and urban design in so-called conflict zones?

Bouman: Well, first of all, there are many people there who need help – so it’s a very direct appeal to do something for people who may need you. I don’t have money, and I don’t have power, and I don’t have political influence – but what I can do, together with many other people, is, first, to acknowledge the need for cultural discourse. Very often all the discourse that is left to those people in post-conflict cities is about everyday needs, or maybe some rebuilding of political institutions; but culture is always at the end of the story, at the end of the line. What we can do is provide them with discourse, give them a certain vitality, as we did in Ramallah once, in Bosnia once, in Vilnius once – and even as we did at the feet of the Statue of Liberty once. If a city is in trouble, sometimes it’s good to organize dialogue, regardless of the subject matter – dialogue as a goal in itself.

Of course, the second stage is the content – the subject matter of the dialogue. And for cities like Beirut or Prishtina, a very obvious subject matter is reclaiming the public domain. If there is a situation, as there is in many post-conflict cities, where political parties are extremely weak or even nonexistent, and where private citizens, sometimes criminals, have taken over the public domain because no one feels responsible – there are no owners, so to speak – then it is good to arrive quickly, and to figure out what the public domain can mean in that city.

Beirut, especially now, seems to be a culture that is divided among factions. We’re trying to set up some projects in Beirut, and in the entirety of Lebanon, to specifically address the question of public domain. Or in Prishtina, for instance, there is an incredibly strong tendency to let the public domain be grasped not just by private interests, but by mafia, by criminals. So real estate is no longer an off-spin of the need to build; real estate becomes a modality of corruption, or an exemplification of corrupt wheelings and dealings.

In that sense, it is important to be there, and to acknowledge the work of local architects, designers, civil servants: what they are doing is extremely important, and can be a model for a global discourse. It can be something that we learn from all over the world – because there are so many of those cities, and there is an increasing amount of those cities, that need to learn these lessons.

So we try to go there, to acknowledge the problems, sometimes to help – with just ideas – and to give it exposure; but also to give the local protagonists a certain momentum by connecting them to the international discourse. And if you live in Beirut, or Prishtina, or Ramallah, it might be an incredible thing to feel connected to a more general international discourse.

BLDGBLOG: When you go there, who exactly are you networking with? Architects? Civil servants?

Bouman: When we decided to go to these places and to organize a dialogue there, we started a practice called RSVP Events. We published an invitation to participate, and we just mentioned the place and the date and the subject matter. People who felt responsible, or who were interested, and who might show up on that date, could react by way of email. After collecting the people who might be interested, we started an email dialogue with this group. And the background of those people was always different – you might find an activist group, or a cultural institution, or a student association, or a school, and they would turn out to be the main provider of content, or the main provider of people, to help. So it’s always different.

In Ramallah, we did a conversation with an organization specifically responsible for heritage in Palestine – in the West Bank – which was a very unexpected turn of events. In Zagreb we worked with a group of students. In Vilnius we were at an art museum. It’s really not fixed – it’s an open system – and it should be that way.

We are trying to set up a new series this year, and, like Beirut and Kosovo, we are planning on going to Ulaanbaator, to Chennai, to Taichung, to Tijuana – different places in borderline situations – and I’m very curious who will eventually help us. We have no institutional connections yet, but we need some; that will help us find a larger audience. We urgently need, always, the email lists, and the local groups that may sustain an event like that.

BLDGBLOG: Finally, as far as your new job goes – becoming Director of the Netherlands Architecture Institute on April 1, 2007 – what are your specific plans?

Bouman: [laughs] That’s a huge question – and it’s a question I’m still in the middle of answering. I haven’t found the words for it yet.

Mainly, my role there will be in the spirit of taking architecture as a cultural medium, not just as a profession – taking architecture as a way of thinking, as a metaphor for society, as a medium for culture, and as a very rich historical discipline that can address larger issues. Architecture is more than just serving the spatial needs of society, or providing technical solutions by professionals. Architecture is done by professionals, but that shouldn’t inhibit it to ask the questions of an amateur – very open, curious questions that are larger than just the service, or the facilities, the professional interests of that discipline.

Most of the time, when you find a podium, it is outside the discipline – and, as I said, that’s still successful – but I often wonder why architecture doesn’t seize the opportunity to make itself much more legitimate – more useful, in a way. I think presenting architecture as a potential, a capacity, to pose big questions and to draft agendas that are larger than architecture itself might be a good characterization of things I have in mind.

• • •
With special thanks to Benedict Clouette, of Columbia University's C-LAB, for setting this interview up and assisting me with images (all unlabeled images come from Volume); and to Ole Bouman for taking the time to talk.

Starchitecture and Sustainability

There are at least two events in New York City this week worth checking out, both sponsored by the Forum for Urban Design (who also publish the Urban Design Review).

Tomorrow night, for instance, Debbie McMullen, Head of the London Plan Team for the Greater London Authority, will be speaking about sustainable urban development in an era of rapidly growing populations.
"London and New York are each expected to add over one million new residents by 2030," the Forum tells us. "Are the two cities prepared to grow?"
There will then be a response from the New York mayor's own Office of Long Term Planning and Sustainability.
Since I won't be able to attend, however, let me know if someone asks her about London's congestion charge, public transportation, and the prospect of a car-free Manhattan... Three things I'm a big fan of.

Then there's a panel discussion on Wednesday night about starchitecture – what to do about it and who's to blame. Panelists include Karrie Jacobs and Jonathan Glancey, and the whole thing will be moderated by Joseph Grima, the new head of the Storefront for Art and Architecture.
Both events are free and open to the public – and location, time, etc., appears on the flyers, featured here. If you want truly gigantic versions of both images, however, click here and here.
Have fun!

Event Reminder

[Image: Larger versions available here and here].

Amplifier House: Original Domestic Soundscapes

[Image: The Mix House, exterior view].

This awesome new project by Joel Sanders Architect, Karen Van Lengen/KVL, and Ben Rubin/Ear Studio takes a step beyond "the modernist notion of visual transparency" (i.e. large windows and glass houses) by adding "aural transparency" – acoustic openness.

[Image: Mix House, exterior].

It's called the Mix House:

Situated on a generic suburban plot, the dwelling is composed of two sound-gathering volumes outfitted with three audiovisual windows. The curved profile of each of these sonic windows is composed of two elements: a louvered glass window wall that regulates the sound of the air-borne ambient environment, and a parabolic dish that electronically targets domestic sounds and transmits them to an interior audio system controlled from the kitchen island. From this sound command center of the house, occupants are free to design original domestic soundscapes by mixing media sponsored sounds with the ambient noises of the neighborhood.

These "sonic windows" – or parabolic ornaments – amplify the audio setting of the house, thus making location, I'd think, several orders of magnitude more important than with many others works of architecture.
In fact, should a house like this really be constructed in the suburbs? Instead of deep in the woods somewhere, or even on top of a glacier...? Crystalline pressures of melting ice three thousand feet below you suddenly break, sending cascades of sound shivering upward through the home's foundations. Some days it's impossible to get out of bed, hypnotized by unearthly noises...

[Image: Mix House, interior].

In any case, the "den/bedroom wing is oriented vertically to capture audio-visual views of the sky," we read, and "the front window wall doubles as a sliding glass door that allows the occupant to hear the sounds of the streetscape."
Further: "Located above the bed, the skylight captures sky-borne sounds, as well as signals transmitted through TV and Internet connections."
It's architecture as the cure for – or cause of? – schizophrenia.

[Image: Mix House, exterior section and plan].

The artistic possibilities here are extraordinary.
One wonders, for instance, if several of these houses could be constructed in the same neighborhood, on the same street – with each one then hooked up to public broadcasting equipment and loudspeakers. Pirate radio. Cul-de-sac FM.
The houses thus play sounds for each other, like instruments, orchestrally contributing to the neighborhood's sonic environment – becoming part of one another's "audio-visual views."
Each house – already an outside-in acoustic snapshot of the environment in real-time – turns sound around to offer a corresponding inside-out anthem for the streets and passers by: the clinking forks and knives of a private dining room get broadcast onto the street. A kind of architecturally outside-inside-out soundtrack for the local world.

[Image: Mix House, amplifying window technical detail].

Drunk homeowners mix burps with airplane roars, standing at an audio booth in the kitchen.
Someone plays layered tape-loops of the sounds of their house from yesterday – which gets picked up by the neighbor and rebroadcast, with reverb, over the noise of a distant lawnmower. Enemy teenagers declare audio warfare, their microphones left open all night long. Paranoid husbands spy on all possible rivals.
Then, in 2017, a particularly well-constructed house, full of weird audio equipment, becomes the only instrument used to soundtrack Steven Spielberg's final film...

(Thanks to Rob Kerchner and Joel Sanders for sending me the images! Meanwhile, the Mix House will be on display as part of Open House: Architecture and Technology for Intelligent Living at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, from April 14-July 1, 2007).

Into the Wind Tunnel: Return of the Film Fest Update!

[Image: On the roof of the wind tunnel, lit from below... Photograph courtesy of Benny Chan/Fotoworks].

As some of you will no doubt know, BLDGBLOG and Materials & Applications have co-organized an awesome event coming up on Tuesday, May 8, from 8-10pm, at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena. It will be part of this year's Silver Lake Film Festival.
The speakers? Ryan Church, James Clyne, Mark Goerner, and Ben Procter, discussing artistic connections between film, architecture, science fiction, and the city.
The venue? A converted wind tunnel, formerly owned and operated by Douglas Aircraft, recently rehabbed by Daly Genik Architects.

[Image: Courtesy of Benny Chan/Fotoworks].

For the project, Daly Genik led the "transformation of an industrial wind tunnel and support buildings" into a 24-hour arts education facility, complete with studios, classrooms, galleries, and offices – yet it's the outside of the building that I find the most interesting (the wind tunnel itself, sadly, is just sort of a gigantic room with a huge ceiling).
"The wind tunnel’s complex of concrete buildings had few windows," the architects explain. This meant there were a bunch of "large, uneven, dark spaces" inside that needed brightening:

To open up the building, we cut windows and skylights in the thick street-front concrete walls and the roof, bringing light into classrooms and studios while making the program visible to the street. A certain amount of light escapes as a beacon allowing the skylights and signage to make the building glow.

These "strategic cuts," in other words, now function both as light wells – or "sculptural skylights" – bringing sunlight in, and as lanterns, illuminated from below.

[Image: Courtesy of Nic Lehoux].

Further, because the architects "wanted the skylight installation to demonstrate an integration of design disciplines: structure, architectural form, and graphic design," they worked "in collaboration with graphic designer Bruce Mau, ARUP structural engineers and Foiltec technicians."
More technically, the skylights are "an assembly of translucent ETFE films stretched on a structural frame." These "films," however, are information-bearing; that is, the "surface can be printed with a pattern."
However, this "printing" process is rather complex.

[Image: Courtesy of Nic Lehoux].

"In order to print the foil," for instance, that foil must first be "irradiated with a high frequency energy source, then printed with cut rubber rollers." Beyond even that, then, Bruce Mau – hired to design the print – was specifically asked to optimize the pattern "so that correct amounts of light would be transmitted" down to the classrooms below.
The interior space of the building thus appears to be stippled with indirect sunlight.

[Image: Courtesy of Nic Lehoux].

Finally, what appear to be solid light-boxes on the roof of the building are actually "huge pillows."
A "compressor is needed to keep the pillows inflated... [and] to adjust the amount of natural light and heat entering the building... A timer, a seasonal clock, or light and thermal sensors can control the reinflation process."
This system is part of the reason why the building was granted LEED certification by the U.S. Green Building Council.
In any case, come out on May 8 to step inside the building and see the wind tunnel itself – and to hear about science fiction, film, urban space, and architecture. More information on that event appears here.

(Thanks to Meara Daly for sending me the images! The Wind Tunnel was also covered, nearly three years ago, on Land+Living – who point us onward to this article in Metropolis).

Urban Planning in Montreal

[Image: The Macdonald-Harrington Building at McGill, home of both the Urban Planning and Urban Design programs].

Just a quick congratulations to my brother, Kevin, who's been accepted into the McGill School of Urban Planning. Congrats, Kevin!
Be nice to him.

Science Fiction and the City: Film Fest Update!

[Image: Ben Procter].

A few weeks ago I announced that BLDGBLOG and Materials & Applications had teamed up to curate an architectural film fest as part of this year's Silver Lake Film Festival here in LA.
Well, I have some exciting news to announce: on Tuesday, May 8th, from 8-10pm, inside a converted wind tunnel in Pasadena, we'll be hosting an evening full of talks and presentations about film, science fiction, space, landscape, and architecture.

[Image: James Clyne].

I have said many times before on this blog that contemporary architecture could learn quite a lot from the spatial and material imaginations on display in both film and science fiction – so perhaps this event will be a good opportunity to explore what that really means.

[Image: Ryan Church].

Though the connections between film and architecture run too deep – and are either too widely known or too conceptually entangled – to discuss in full here, I still think it's worth pointing out, briefly, a few examples of cinematic thinking in architecture. Or architectural thinking in cinema, as it were.
One of the greatest essays on Piranesi ever written, for instance, was produced by Russian film director Sergei Eisenstein – whose father, interestingly, was an architect.
While studying Piranesi's notoriously vertiginous etchings of imaginary prisons, Eisenstein felt moved to write an essay about the basic cinematic acts of montage and cutting. If Piranesi's prisons are anything, Eisenstein suggests, they are spaces edited together from unrelated episodes; they are cinematic.
He calls them "architectural frenzies."
Inspired by this realization, Eisenstein goes on to say that even film should be reconsidered, on a structural level, as "a sequence of collisions," a "succession of broken links," thousands and thousands of different frames and spaces that then unite into a coherent whole. The individual stills of a film sequence – like the individual rooms of a building – thus fuse into an "ecstatic construction."

[Image: Ryan Church].

Less abstractly, Jonathan Glancey claims, in an old article for The Guardian, that "cinema remains the best place to experience the architectural imagination at full flight."
Through film, Glancey writes, an audience can get "highly wrought glimpses into future cities; for popular audiences, such films offer thrilling guides as to how our world might look." He continues:

What is fascinating, and very much an area for further research, is the close relationship between radical architectural design and the cinema. Much of the best of modern architecture, combining digital and three-dimensional design processes, is cinematic in scope and feeling.

He then concludes, and I strongly echo this sentiment:

If only the members of Archigram or Superstudio had been able to buy, in the 1960s, the kind of cheap digital technology available on high streets today. They may not have been able to get their dream cities constructed, but they could have visualised them in mini-movies – much more enticing than so many drawings, lectures and models.

After reading something like this, though, I find it very hard not to get excited by things like Unit 15 at the Bartlett School of Architecture, a design studio that "uses film, video, animation and motion graphics to generate, develop, refine and represent architectural proposals."
It's also interesting, though, in this context, to point out the work of M. Christine Boyer, and her excellent book The City of Collective Memory.
There, Boyer writes about Edward Gordon Craig, an early 20th-century stage set designer (and son of an architect), whose "architectonic scenery" foregrounded architectural backdrops, turning them into the only action an audience was meant to watch.
For instance, Craig "proposed that a stage in which walls and shapes rose up and opened out, unfolded or retreated in endless motion could become a performance without any actors," Boyer writes. "The stage thus became a device to receive the play of light rhythmically, creating an endless variety of mobile cubic shapes and varying spaces. Deep wells, stairs, open spaces, platforms, or partitions created a stage of complete mobility, which Craig believed appealed to the imagination."
The architecture does all the acting for you; the architecture is the film – or the play, as the case may be. The architecture is the storyline.
The space itself is the plot.

[Image: Ben Procter].

So what does all this have to do with cinema and architecture – or even with science fiction and the city?
Well, by talking not to architects but instead to the people who actually design the sets, backdrops, cityscapes, environments, buildings, rooms, etc., in which cinematic action takes place – from X-Men 3 to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – you should be able to get at least some sense for what architecture can mean, on a narrative level, to those outside the architectural field.
In other words, what do those people who tell stories through and with space actually want from architecture?
How do they use space?
Rather than set out to discover, yet again, what architects think about cinema – or about science fiction, or about stage set design – why not turn the question around? Why not see what architects can learn from spaces, buildings, and cities produced by other fields?

[Image: A sketch by Mark Goerner; here's a larger version].

Or, to ask another question that won't necessarily be answered by this event: if Architectural Record bills itself as a magazine about architecture, then why doesn't it ever cover, say, the apartment complex from Minority Report, or the office lobbies featured in The Matrix? That's architecture, too.
In any case, Materials & Applications and BLDGBLOG have therefore gathered together four of the most exciting concept artists working in film today to discuss some of these questions, and to talk about their own artistic backgrounds – how they got into film, what they studied to get there, and what imaginative role architecture plays in their creations.
They will each give a short, 15-20 minute talk, with images, and the whole thing will be followed by a Q&A. And, just to mention this again, because I love saying it, this will take place in a converted wind tunnel, formerly used for testing the aerodynamism of experimental vehicles.
But I'll be posting about the wind tunnel in a few days (complete with some really cool pictures).

[Image: Ben Procter].

The resumes of these four guys, then, put together, cover so much cinematic ground that it's almost easier to name what they haven't worked on; nonetheless, here are the speakers – with an abbreviated list of their film production credits.
In alphabetical order, you'll see Ryan Church, James Clyne, Mark Goerner, and Ben Procter.

[Images: Ryan Church].

Ryan Church has worked on The War of the Worlds, Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones, and Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith – with stills from each film available on his site.
Some of the landscapes and structures that Ryan has produced are just extraordinary; there's this titan arch vs. these linked arches; there's this weird interior full of glowing discs; there's this thing; there's the Death Star under construction – etc. etc. etc.
Awesome work can be found all over this page, in fact, including some truly amazing sketches.

[Images: Three environments by Ryan Church; larger versions available here, here, and here].

Check out Ryan's bio for more.
Moving onward, alphabetically, we find James Clyne, who has worked on A.I. (check out this Caspar David Friedrich-esque landscape, in particular), Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (!), Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Minority Report (including this cityscape and these freeways), Mission to Mars, The War of the Worlds, and X-Men 3, among others.

[Images: James Clyne].

There's then Mark Goerner, who's worked on Constantine, Minority Report, The Terminal, and X-Men 2 (including Magneto's plastic prison), among others. Check out this crashed ship-city, piercing the lunar surface, in both sketch and final versions.

[Image: Reef City by Mark Goerner].

Of course, Mark has also designed a space station.
Ben Procter, finally, has worked on a bewildering number of films, including the forthcoming, feature-length version of The Transformers. His work also appears in Blade 2, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Matrix: Reloaded and The Matrix: Revolutions, Pirates of the Caribbean, The Ring, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, Superman Returns, and The Terminal, among others.

[Image: Ben Procter].

Ben has produced environments for games such as Need for Speed: Underground, and he's even helped spatially conceptualize a few music videos for Mariah Carey, Ginuwine, and Busta Rhymes.

[Image: Ben Procter].

His resume has more information (available as a PDF).
So come out if you can on May 8, 2007, from 8-10pm, at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena. Hear about film, architecture, and science fiction; learn how these artists were educated and how they found the careers that they did; ask questions about artistic influences, strategies, and intentions; find out what it's like to work on a Steven Spielberg film; and see some more of their work, from film stills to sketchbooks to video clips.
The former wind tunnel, meanwhile, is absolutely enormous, so there's no need to worry about reservations or whether you'll be able to get in. And bring some extra cash, in case you want to purchase one of their instructional books or DVDs; they're cool guys and deserve the support. And I'll repost about all this once the event draws closer, complete with address, etc. etc., so don't worry if you read this post and don't know how to get there. The event is nearly two months away. Don't panic.

[Image: A sketch by Mark Goerner; here's a much larger version].

Expect more soon...