Professional Documents
Culture Documents
PROCEEDINGS
21st National Conference
on the Beginning Design Student
A Beginners Mind
PROCEEDINGS
21st National Conference
on the Beginning Design Student
Stephen Temple, editor
College of Architecture
The University of Texas at San Antonio
24-26 February 2005
Situating Beginnings
Questioning Representation
Alternative Educations
Abstractions and Conceptions
Developing Beginnings
Pedagogical Constructions
Primary Contexts
Informing Beginnings
Educational Pedagogies
Analog / Digital Beginnings
Curriculum and Continuity
Interdisciplinary Curricula
Beginnings
Design / Build
Cultural Pluralities
Contentions
Revisions
Projections
Printed proceedings produced by Stephen Temple, Associate Professor, University of Texas San Antonio.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without
written permission of the publisher.
Published by:
University of Texas San Antonio
College of Architecture
501 West Durango Blvd.
San Antonio TX 78207
210 458-3010
fax 210 458-3016
ISBN 0-615-13123-9
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tales. Although the specifics of each myth might be unique to each culture, the underlying
foundation seems to be universal. The general tendency in the individual is intrinsic; the unique
cultural expression is extrinsic. Jung called these deeply shared motifs archetypes. Several of
the Jungian archetypes are related to architectural experiences, such as the basement and the
attic.
Over several years, I have borrowed some of Jungs more accessible ideas to teach
students specific methods of identifying either archetypes or personal experiences as sources
that help generate meaningful designs -- meaningful to the individual and meaningful to the
culture.
Project
One such project asked each student to design a House Like Me (with thanks to
Malaparte) based on dreams or deeply felt personal experiences, some of which turned out to be
traumatic. The intent was that the students, by examining their personal psyches, would discover
archetypal designs that were more meaningful to others than would be an intellectual construct
that primarily reflected the external world.
Process
To ease students into this unfamiliar approach, each was asked to design a small basrelief plaque that expressed his or her fundamental self. Several of the results played on the
commonly understood meaning of cultural icons, such as the moon, a Porsche, or Superman.
Others presented a personal narrative snapshot in which objects, colors, textures, etc., were used
to illustrate personality traits. This introductory project served three uses. First, it helped
students understand how to explore their psyches and personal histories. Second, it got each
student comfortable with discussing the results with others in a public forum. Finally, it was a first
effort in translating psychological experience and meaning into material form.
The main design effort then began with a period of exploration and discover, an
uncensored flow of hunches communicated from the psyche to the conscious mind through
sketches, a dream diary, and stream of consciousness exercises. CAD was of no use in such an
endeavor. Cont crayon and other expressive media were encouraged as a way to enhance the
fluid flow of ideas, which, in the beginning, were often vague and stilted. Words and sketches
sometimes poured out together. Little editing, censorship, or interpretation was used at first so as
not to stifle the flow.
Each student then resolved pages of sketches and notes into a design. Each student
found a site appropriate to his or her experience. Unlike the usual student tendency, early ideas
most often began as thumbnail sketches or perspective notations rather than floor plans.
Perspectives were encouraged so that the design would evolve as a spatial experience rather
than a graphic plan. Three student examples follow:
Student A
For the initial bas-relief, Student A created a diagrammatic narrative (fig. 1). It is a map
that expresses the impact felt when, as a child, his parents had moved the family from Mexico to
Texas. A grid, logical and controlled, represents Texas. Below a break representing the Rio
Grande and the border, Mexico is shown with a topo map of the natural terrain. San Antonio is a
cross roads marked by a Mayan glyph. Surrounding the glyph are four bowing figures, each
facing one of the four cardinal points. This figure was based on a brass figurine that represented
the student in meditation. On the right, overlapping the edge of the plaque, is a hand of cards
the hand of fate.
An early sketch (fig. 2) shows a figure trapped in a box that is actually a safe with a
combination on the right side. The figures right hand is a masons trowel. On top of this cell is a
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house form topped by a cross. The meaning of this house above the cell was not clear until the
final review.
The final sketch from Student A (fig. 3) shows a section taken below grade at a time
when the house design was well underway. A living area looks out into a recessed pool and
garden, which are open to the light above. Notes in the sketch refer to healing, spiritual
awakening, and memories of loved ones. Such subterranean spaces are often associated with
chthonic forces and mother earth. In myth, the cave leads to the underworld and death but death,
as part of Jungian reintegration of suppressed parts back into a unified whole, must be
understood as a prerequisite to resurrection.
In the final design, the house included a small space at the top, a version of the house
form on top of the original sketch of the figure in the cell. The use of this space had never been
made clear during the design process. When asked what it meant, the student turned to the
professor, puzzled either that the professor had forgotten, or that the student had failed to
mention its meaning. As it turned out, this small space was central to the entire project. It
represented the students twin, who had died as a child. The house was a place where, in a way,
they could be reunited.
Student B
The initial design from Student B was literal and yet enigmatic. On a black background
are shown images of the dome of a gothic cathedral and the photo of a bright red Porsche sports
car (fig. 4). Wrapping around from the back is a piece of crumpled paper. It is bright red, the
same color as the Porsche. Over this is a photo of a brick wall upon which is printed the word,
Personal. In later discussions, Student B hinted that he had experienced a trauma in his
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childhood that he would not discuss. The Gothic dome represented timeless beauty. The
Porsche was mechanical, logical, comprehensible, and perfect. The color red, an energy that
welled up from his attempt to resolve the inner crisis, animated and yet threatened to consume
the external world.
Student Bs design development sketches often showed arrows and spears shattering
the ground (fig. 5). Most of his sketches were powerful renderings in black and red Cont. The
final design (fig. 6.) was a direct expression of these sketches. It featured a bold claustrophobic
path that broke through planer forms, leading to rooms lit through crevices rather than windows.
Unfortunately the final presentation of this project was done in CAD, which lost much of the
expressive power of the sketches.
Student C
The initial bas-relief project for Student C was composed of a cubic frame with a
checkerboard floor. Small figures crawled over the frame. The early design development
sketches for the house design showed a crude courtyard plan with another house in the middle of
the court. The student explained that, from the time he was a child, his role in life had been to
protect his drug addicted mother from harm. She would live in the house in the middle, where he
could keep her safe. An early perspective showed two wings of a house, which he explained
were studios, one for his wife and one for himself (fig. 7). The student explained that the rather
menacing face on one wing was his wife. The portrait was used to identify her studio. This was
not promising but I could only trust the direction suggested by his psyche.
Two weeks into the project I entered the studio and found the class clustered around the
desk of Student C. I asked what was going on. One of the students turned and said, excitedly,
that Student C had had a dream. On his board was a new design, completely drafted and
rendered. It had nothing to do with his previous sketches. I asked about his dream. This was his
account:
The night before, the spirit guide of Student C and appeared in a dream. It was Jim
Morrison, the deceased lead singer of the Doors (fig. 8). Morrison took Student C up into the sky.
They flew over the land and finally stopped above a beautiful cubic house made of glass.
Morrison descended with the student and alighted in front of the glass house. They entered.
Morrison showed the student all of the rooms and explained all the details. It was spacious,
open, full of light. Concrete columns supported the load, while a tiled floor curved up to unify the
interior walls and the ground. They reviewed each of the three floors. The stairs finally took them
up to the roof deck, which was meant for gazing at the stars. When they had finished, Morrison
and the student floated back up into the air, where they paused to look down at the marvelous
glass house. Morrison held out his arm and gestured toward the house then turned to the student
and said, This is your home. You live alone.
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The student woke from the dream at about 4:00 a.m. He grabbed his sketchbook and
spent the next two hours jotting down everything that Morrison had shown him. In retrospect, the
new design that evolved from this vision contained many of the features of the first bas-relief
model. The student drove to school at 7:00 a.m. and spent the morning drafting up his design. It
became his final solution. It did not include a home for his mother or a studio for his wife.
Conclusion
This attempt to center a design process on the search for meaning is based on the
opinion that too little of contemporary architecture is meaningful. A process centered on the
deeply meaningful leads inevitably to the depths of the designer and to the psyche. A response
to this approach might be that we are architects, not psychiatrists or psychologists, and that we
are therefore unprepared to deal with the emotional turbulence such an inner search might stir up.
My response is that we are already involved in myth and archetype, and that trauma is already
operative in our students and in us. It is no more inappropriate for us to work with one another
in an attempt to bring an inner richness, complexity, and meaning to our outer professional
expressions, than it is for psychiatrists to design and build their own homes.
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