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Mid-century Compulsions: visions and cautions about architecture and
housing in the emerging Nation State

 Domus

 12 Apr 2018

 Mustansir Dalvi

This spread, top row, from left to

right: (Fig. 10) Kingsway Refugee Camp, Delhi 1947 (Accessed from https://www.
hindustantimes.com/ art-and-culture/tales-fromindia-s-1947-partitionrefugee-
camps/story3nboafWkSJAZnB1XLOebHK. html); (Fig. 11) Housing...
In the decades leading to the formation of the Nation State in India, and in the decade after,
architecture and housing were discussed, debated, argued about and critiqued. Various fora
were employed to set out opportunities and anxieties, visions and aspirations. The records of
public lectures and published writings from city newspapers, popular periodicals,
professional journals, self-help books, even canny advertising have all passed down to us in
an archive that allows us to revisit the mid-century apprehensions and fervor for the future of
architecture in India from within the architectural profession and from those outside. Before
1946, the chief vehicle of architectural discourse was the Journal of the Indian Institute of
Architects (JIIA) that carried debates and discussions among those within the profession (Fig.
1). Around this period too there were several books written with the layperson in mind,
popularising the notion of new techniques of building construction and modern, hygienic
designs that potential homeowners could emulate. These publications were paralleled by
equally vigorous marketing in print by various cement companies flogging their products
(cement, concrete, colourcrete, cement based plaster and tiles, and so on) using contemporary
architecture as their vehicles of promotion. They aimed, very smartly both at the architect as
well as the client, transforming aspirations and bringing an all round acceptability to modern
construction techniques and design. The presaging of independence brought new voices and
new concerns. Debates would now go beyond the local and metropolitan to the national. The
locus of voices on architecture shifted with the formation of MARG (Modern Architecture
Research Group) and its mouthpiece magazine ‘Marg’, first published in 1946 by Mulk Raj
Anand (Fig.2). Marg also had a team of architects, artists and planners as contributing editors
who were drawn internationally — in the early years they included Otto Koenigsberger,
Hermann Goetz, Minette de Silva, Rudy van Leyden, Anil de Silva, Andrew Boyd and Percy
Marshall. Indian architects like MJP Mistri and Durga Bajpai would also make significant
contributions. In its first decade, Marg’s contributors, led from the front by Mulk, would
write exhortative pieces often presented as manifestos. At the same time Marg also
documented the planning and architecture immediate to their time. The J IIA continued its
publication, shifting ground to present a more national outlook (entire issues were devoted to
housing in the 1950s), while popular presen- tations continued of the new by to the Nation
present cement State the companies joi reflected de vivre through the architecture of the time.
The first questions, after 1947, were, very naturally: What kind of architecture should India
have, now that she was free? Should there be a ‘National’ architecture? How should the
‘new’ architecture now prevalent all over the country be reconsidered? Andrew Boyd, an
architect from Ceylon and an ardent modernist stressed the need for continuity with India’s
past. In 1949, he wrote in Marg, pointing towards “the idiocies of foreign imitation, to the
practical suitability of old Indian architecture to Indian climate, to the national shame and
loss that the destruction of a tradition of such richness would be… Modern Indian
architecture must be first and foremost distinctively worth worth Three in presented the first
years expressing.” having his issue earlier Indian… manifesto and of Marg, national Mulk
Continuity ‘Architecture had Raj pride already Anand, is is TAL and LETTERS, You’,
written decrying mostly the in sentimentality CAPIinspiration: of “There looking is to a
growing the past tendency for today to infuse the sentiment of nationalism into every field of
activity, including architecture. The general implication is a grafting of an architectural
expression, in vogue in a bygone age, onto a structure arising from our present day
conditions, built for our resent day needs. BUT SURELY THIS IS A FORM OF
RETROGRESSION – A FORM OF ESCAPE IN THE ABSENCE OF OUR ABILITY TO
CREATE A NATIONAL CHARACTER EXPRESSIVE OF OURSELVES TODAY, IN
THE 20TH CENTURY.” In this, he echoed Claude Batley, who more than a decade earlier,
in a public lecture in 1935 had strongly defended the contemporary architecture of his own
time against similar criticism and doubts raised
Mustansir Dalvi dwells upon the many concerns surrounding housing expressed mid-century,
published by various voices — both cautionary and vsionary — in the late 1940s and 50s
against its suitability for an Indian milieu. This architecture, which did not yet have a name,
was referred to by Batley simply as ‘This New Architecture’. Batley was unapologetic: “…to
consider it un-national was a very great mistake; for its success rested entirely on
functionalism, and would have to be studied in India from that point of view alone, in which
case it must, subconsciously at least, take upon itself an Indian character. It was mere
copyism that was to be condemned, in the Architect and the Student alike, and whether what
was merely copied was Indian traditional architecture, or “this new architecture” mattered
little, the result would be equally bad.” For Batley this new architecture had “’an inward and
spiritual grace’, the living significance of our own day, a freedom for functionalism, the
cutting out of cankered growths that have accumulated for ages.” MJP Mistri and JP
Bilimoria in the JIIA would use a familiar modernist language in 1942 to describe the
architecture of their time: “It is not enough that our architects are free from the vanity of
“styles”. They must learn to exploit and apply the fruits of scientific research in their day-to-
day problems… The buthere ilding is a machine to live, work or play in… Architecture has
changed from the art of two-dimensional pattern-making to the science of the relation of
space and movement... Orderliness is the beginning of everything.” (Fig. 3) By the end of the
1940s, more caution than enthusiasm was advised, especially with the formation of the
Nation State. Andrew Boyd, in Marg (1949) reviewed the Modern movement thus: “The
Modern Movement is now at least 30 years old… It did help cure ‘period’ architecture. …
(but) In the hands of large number of builders and designers who were influenced by it, it
becomes itself a style, that is, a system of forms to be imitated rather than a system of
principles to be applied. “Modern Architecture” has not cured modern architecture.” Mulk
Raj Anand was particularly prescient about the worth of good architecture in the progress of a
free India. Among his contemporaries were the important architects and designers of the
period, including Le Corbusier, Richard Neutra and Eric Mendelsohn, all of whom made
contributions to the pages of Marg. In 1948, Le Corbusier would give Marg’s Indian readers
a history lesson: “The Indians have passed without harm through the black days of the first
era of mechanization. They remained unmoved. During those hundred years, the white races
of Europe and the New World were swept up in a whirlwind of fragmentary discoveries.” His
vision for a new Indian future juxtaposed her millennial sensibilities with contemporary
knowledge of technology: “In this India… appears to exist the elements of an impetus, which
are: the permanent, eternal, human factors, maintained here through millennia, in their
essential and transcendental nature, the irrefutable powers of modern technics, un-established
but in continual improvement.” Jane Drew, who would be responsible for the design of the
housing in the new city of Chandigarh (along with Maxwell Fry and Pierre Jenneret) had a
more nuanced view. Writing in 1953, she asserted that India, with her newfound freedom,
had the possibility of taking a fresh direction, acknowledging “existing Eastern philosophy, a
traditional background and the ‘rapture’ Gandhi and others have brought to it.” At the same
time, she also acknowledged “the determination of those in control to find a way which,
while adopting the scientific and technical knowledge of our time, was not a slavish use of it,
but a means to an Indian solution of an Indian problem.” Such discussions would move out of
the realms of the abstract and visionary to acknowledge the immediate problems of a
burgeoning democracy. The advocates of modern architecture would ultimately prevail over
the traditionalists, voicing the needs of its users rather than its designers. In 1950 a writer in
Marg, identified only by a pen-name “Solus” would attempt a contemporary definition:
“(Modern architecture) caters not only to man’s convenience and efficiency, but also to his
self respect and his need for varied sociality, to his pursuit of cultural interests and beauty…
the outer form of the modern building becomes the outgrowth of a plan built about the
organic life of the people, expressed in terms of the materials employed.” Andrew Boyd too,
would emphasise that architecture “In a democratic age it must be (for) the whole mass of the
people. When the masses of India have something to express, when the architects are drawn
from the masses, when they are in touch with them and design to please them, when they
submit their schemes to their criticism so that they both teach and learn from them, then
Indian architecture will be in a position to start developing as an expressive art.” This opinion
by Boyd for the need for two-way communication and participative learning between the
masses and designers was novel thought in itself. Even the notion of having architects as
necessary to the creation of a better and more efficient architecture was not normalised. The
voices that most strongly advocated the vital presence of architect in the provision of housing
were the brand doctors of the Cement Companies. In a 1946 publication by The Cement
Marketing Company of India, Bombay called ‘60 Designs for your New Home’ (Fig. 4), they
cleverly played both to the vanity of the architects and the good sense of homeowners: “It is
strange that while a doctor will be a specialist most naturally approached in case of an
illness… the would-be owner of a home often believes that he himself is competent to
prepare a plan in the form of a crude single-line diagram and that a ‘maistri’ with rule-of-
thumb experience in the crafts of building is equally competent to translate the idea into a
useful, economical, structurally sound and beautiful home… architectural services cost but a
small percentage of the outlay for the building… we can only advise you that ‘it will pay you
to consult an architect.’” Even Prime Minister Nehru made a case for architects. In an
international exhibition on Low-Cost housing organised by Government of India’s Ministry
of Works, Housing and Supply, New Delhi in 1954 (Fig. 5), he said: “We must also look at
these matters from the architect’s point of view and not merely that of an engineer. There is
no reason why we should put up ugly and unsightly structures because they are meant for
humbler folk. Grace and beauty are not really expensive and if slight extra expenses are
involved it is worthwhile. We should like our people to develop not only higher standards of
living, but some appreciation of beauty.” From the very beginning of his term, Nehru
facilitated the best of India’s young architects like Habib Rehman and Achyut Kanvinde to
design the buildings of the emerging State. His enthusiasm was further emphasised when he
ensured that Le Corbusier would be appointed to oversee the planning and design the new
capital city of Chandigarh. Perhaps the most pressing concern of free India in its early years
was the provision of housing for the largest numbers. Both the partition and its offshoot
refugee influx from both east and west, and well as internal migration for livelihood
especially to new centers of infrastructure and industry generated the imperatives for a better
quality of habitation. Planning would now start to be spoken of, equally as much as housing
or architecture. Nehru in the same speech at the exhibition on Low-Cost Housing identified
this concern, foregrounding the need for good housing, no matter the scale or the economic
class of the citizen: “Housing and amenities... should not be looked upon as a philanthropic
gesture, but as something necessary for the social well-being of the people working there and,
therefore, for their greater efficiency and effectiveness… A house is or should be, an
enlargement of one’s personality, and if human welfare is our objective, this is bound up with
the house. Indeed, changes in housing in other parts of the world have effected social
revolutions in the community.” Durga Bajpai, a modernist architect with a significant practice
in Bombay would present the example of Scandinavian countries’ successes in housing in a
1951 issue of Marg: “These countries have proved that parliamentary democracy is capable
of adjusting itself to new social and economic conditions and providing for the citizens the
blessings of a socialised State without the implied restrictions on individuals. This is ably
demonstrated in the schemes of their housing societies wherein the social object of housing is
fully recognised even while the societies are run for the financial benefit of the investors,
who, at the same time are also beneficiaries of the housing scheme.” Bajpai here was writing
about the notion of public participation in the housing process, particularly the then emerging
concept of co-operative housing. While mass housing could be seen synonymously with the
development of infrastructure, architects would insist that this was not the case. The
provision of habitation, even as an issue of mass supply required design skills. “Housing is
essentially a human problem”, wrote G K Paknikar of the Dept. of Architecture of the Bengal
Engineering College in a 1952 issue of the JIIA. “The Planning Commission in their First
Five year Plan have rightly emphasized that ‘economy at the sacrifice of durability and
livability is not desirable’. I would like to put the word livability in capital letters. We are not
going to standardise
the life of human beings. We must humanise the standards. Housing must permit
substantially normal design without detriment to the life of people. Housing is essentially an
architectural problem.” Modern architecture and modern planning was best suited to address
the question of housing, according to ‘Solus’, for it visualised “well designed houses, planned
functionally, catering for domestic comfort, convenience and hygiene. Community centers
would be the focal point of the life in the towns and villages: buildings for education and
recreation, hospitals, markets public buildings, libraries, canteens —in fact buildings
designed for every purpose and planned for the needs of the people using it.” In the new
socialist state, the workers and laborers were valorised. From the Planning Commission
downward to the several depictions in popular culture, the struggles and successes of the
‘Mazdoor’ were presented to the country at large. Equity was the mantra, as would be seen in
the writings of the time. Even a commercial enterprise like the Concrete Marketing
Association would insist on basic specifications for a new house at the smallest end of the
scale: “The standard of living has gone up, but not appreciably… Inherent in that standard is
the right to decent accommodation. A worker cannot be expected to be efficient… unless he
is provided with a decent place of living. The present system of one-room quarters and
tenements is far from satisfactory .” In 80 Designs of Buildings published in 1950, the
Associa- ted Cement Company Ltd. would specify the basic ‘bare-minimum’ requirements
for workers housing (Fig. 6): “A two-roomed house with two small verandahs, separate
kitchen and latrine should be the bare minimum aimed at. Other necessary amenities should
include a small ‘nahni’ with a water tap, a loft for storing, a built in cupboard, electric light,
and a hooded shaft for carrying away the smoke of the kitchen stove. Through ventilation
must be provided for all living rooms. This should be the bare minimum aimed at for the
industrial housing of the unskilled laborer.”(Fig. 7) 68 years down the line, the ‘bare
minimum’ specifications provided for slum rehabilitation houses still fail, struggling to
achieve these lowest requirements for equity and livability. Notions in housing are best
expressed in the creation of new towns. Given the tabula rasa available, planners and
architects were not weighed down by the requirements of the immediate. In the development
of the other post-independence new town Bhubaneswar, new capital for Orissa, the
government architect Julius Vaz (1949, JIIA) encouraged “…the intermingling of all groups
of communities, the government employee, the local businessman, the retired gentry, the poor
man and the rich, all of whom will enjoy the same social amenities provided for the
communities daily needs… dwellings must be well located to enable him to inherit a strong
sense of community responsibility and stability by the provision of interlocking social ties…”
Vaz stressed on the equitable distribution of living accommodation (Fig. 8): “The lot of the
low and average income worker which hitherto had been sadly neglected has now been vastly
improved and relieved. On the other hand the highest income group has been trimmed of its
usual luxurious accommodation and the plan designed in the true perspective of the needs of
an Indian officer of this status in these times.” Equity in housing was also interpreted by Jane
Drew in the case of Chandigarh. Envisaged essentially as a government town, a state capital,
housing was varied based on the users divided into 13 categories, not compartmentalised into
simple income groups: “The peon’s house consists of two rooms, a verandah, a kitchen,
bathroom, wash-place, water-closet and a compound. These minimum type houses have been
grouped, mostly running east and west in terraces so that only the south side of the house
requires protection. At the other end of the scale, the Chief Justice’s house contains a living
room, a dining room, library, three large bedrooms and dressing rooms.” Similar notions of
equity provided the visions for rural housing. Here the availability of local materials and
buildings techniques were stressed, but with the provisions not dissimilar to those in urban
areas. The Concrete Marketing Association would take the lead in stressing that it was very
important, in the new
scheme of development of villages “that we do not bring alien forms into our villages and
thrust them on as being ‘modern’.” (1950 ‘Eighty Designs of Buildings’) There is a mild
irony in the fact that their model proposals for village amenities like a ‘chawdi’ for a taluka
or a village well is quite modernist in outlook and, of course, proselytises concrete (Fig. 9).
Low-cost housing was the new mantra both in urban and rural areas and government
exhibitions were occasions to present new models for future building types, techniques and
construction. The President of India, Rajendra Prasad in his message for the 1954 exhibition
speaks for the 70% of people of India living in villages: “We want healthy, artistic, cheap
houses which will suit the tastes and fulfill the requirements of the people.” Nehru, speaking
at the same exhibition would assert: “We must change all our ideas about housing. We take
for granted not only the mud huts of our villages but the fact that large numbers of people
have not even those mud huts. I have no objection to mud structures and, indeed, I would like
to encourage them in villages, provided we improve them greatly. I think that the minimum
accommodation that any family should have is two rooms, a kitchen, a lavatory and a small
verandah. If possible, a little open space also. ” It is interesting to observe that the minimum
housing requirements for those at the lowest end of the economic spectrum whether in rural
or in urban areas are largely self-similar, whether presented by those who controlled the State
or those who designed for it. And yet, one can argue that these salutary ideas did, if only
fitfully translate into design templates and get normalised as a design culture in the half
century after they were first expressed.Then, as now, the problem of housing has always been
looked at by the State as a ‘provison’ — a bolus transferred by mother bird of State into the
gullet of the helpless subject chick. To start with it did take away the notion of agency from
the users themselves, which in later decades would return in various forms to fill the
inevitable housing vacuum in the form of slums. Alternative forms like co-operatives, where
state approved agency was given to groups of home aspirants was a model that certainly
improved the lives of many from the 1960s to the hegemony of the speculator/builder from
the 1990s onwards. In 1951, Durga Bajpai strongly advocated co-operative housing in the
pages of Marg: “There is indeed charm and fascination about the word ‘cooperative’. It
implies the best in man, his desire to help his fellow citizens, to live in harmony with his
neighbors, to help in the upkeep of the environment and to be conscious of civic and social
responsibilities.” He described the difference between the cooperative housing society and
the ordinary speculative building thus: “the co-operative housing society builds only for its
shareholders without profit to itself. It is sure that each one of its constructions will be
occupied and knows the needs, the individual preferences of its occupants. While speculative
building companies build only for a mass market and only for profit.” In the absence of this
model today the city of Mumbai sees the absent presence of more than two lakh unsold flats
in her city limits, while at the same time the State that berates the lack of housing and seeks
to further densify the already hyper-dense crumbling inner city areas of the metropolis. The
rift between the State and its designers seems to have had its foundations right from its
nascent beginnings, especially in the setting up of infrastructure providing institutions. In
1949, architect C M Master in his presidential address to the general body of the Indian
Institute of Architects would rue the lack of appreciation to the professional services provided
by architects in India: “The greatest problem is the question of Housing and how it affects our
profession. We have been called a Trade Union, the main object of which is to preserve our
position even at the cost of the society in which we live. But the facts show something else…
The Government has been trying to solve (housing) in their own way without even saying ‘by
your leave’ and we know the results have been disappointing both to the sponsors and the
public. The Government has a housing program of its own. They have large funds and a
housing board has been established. Its composition also reveals that persons with practically
no knowledge of building work have been appointed to it save one solitary architect… in the
department there is no one who knows how to read the plans, the whole work of scru-
tinizing the plans being done by the clerical staff.” How close this sounds to our own time,
especially with the current compositions of State sponsored Heritage Committees,
Environment Committees or indeed Art Commissions. Further aggravating this was the
divide that emerged between planning and housing right from the 1950s. This was in parts the
result of historical urgencies and in part a clear lack of understanding at the state level of a
holisitic understanding of housing as habitation, the compartmentalisation into state
departments. In 1947, housing would first have been the priority of the Department of
Rehabilitation. By 1952 housing has become indistinguishable from infrastructure as it was
transferred to the Ministry of Works, Housing and Supply. This would continue until the
early 1980s. In a lecture to the IIA in 1952, M. Fayazzuddin, President Institute of Town
Planners India clearly describes this. He described the manner in which the needs for the
refugees of Partition and the large increase in the number of Industrial workers and their need
for housing overwhelmed the possibilities of good planning -- “Housing plus planning, and
not merely housing should be as declared our national policy. And this can only be achieved
when Housing and Town and Country Planning are put under one administrative control… a
lack of a sound administrative policy is responsible for keeping us extremely behind the
times… At present, town and country planning and housing is part of the Ministry of Local
Government or the Ministry for Public Works… housing and planning cannot be treated as
separate activities… they are part and parcel of one activity providing satisfactory living
conditions. It has frequently been said that planning should have preceded housing. The short
answer is that we awoke to planning too slowly and housing could not wait, which is all the
same it is a good reason we should now press forward with planning as hard as we can
despite the many obvious difficulties and distractions.” In concluding this broad survey on
mid-century voices articulating concerns about the future of architecture and housing in the
nascent Nation State, two rifts emerge. The first, (as described by M. Fayazzuddin) that
history overwhelmed India’s initial years as a free country with regards to the question of
housing, indeed of mass housing. It also normalised positions, that carry to this day. The
‘provision’ of housing was first pushed by its need to assuage traumatized refugee
populations on the brink of survival. Housing emerged as ‘disaster relief’. The model of mass
shelter to be erected at the soonest results in the creation of acres of army-like ‘chaavnis’
(Fig. 10). These modular tent-like formations were generated with sapper-like construction
techniques rather than the social necessities of the dispossessed. Yet, once normalised these
became the model for future housing strategies. There was little interaction between the end
user and the state. Housing by numbers did indeed precede planning. Later the design of
industrial housing with its grid-iron layouts and modular construction would coerce its user
families accommodate themselves into that which was provided rather than the other way
round. This is seen repetitively and even valorised in later architectural journals and planning
publications (Fig. 11). The successes, limited though they are, of people’s participation in
design were possible only several decades after when the surging presence of ‘architect-is-
god’ High Modernism had outlived its welcome. But by then, the die was cast. The second
schism is the more telling: It is significant that most of the voices presented here seem to
come from a position of privilege. None of the writers, architects or pillars of Statehood are
part of the dispossessed. They rarely come from a location of sub-alternity. Often their
positions are articulated in a patronising active voice. This is the problem of the professional.
Most of the architects from Bombay who occupied the pages of the JIIA and Marg had
metropolitan practices for decades, flourishing as it were, in the colonial state. The writers in
Marg were the well educated, well travelled Indians or architects and designers from outside
the country. The cement marketing companies who expended thousands of words articulating
architectural positions were primarily pushing their products (Fig. 12). In the end they are all
implicated by their expressions and the significant absence of the voices of the end-users.
One may ask — did they present realities of their times or the aspirations of their positions?
Did imaginaries get normalised into quotidian practices? Today, we find ourselves at the
pointy-end of the historical processes that coalesced in the early years after 1947. In a sense,
as readers and writers in a magazine on architecture are we not implicated too? This essay is
based on a keynote lecture presented in conjunction with the exhibition State of Housing:
Aspirations, Imaginaries and Realities in India’ at the Goethe-Institut/ Max Mueller Bhavan,
Mumbai on 9 March 2018. The exhibition was curated by Rahul Mehrotra, Ranjit Hoskote
and Kaiwan Mehta.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The author gratefully acknowledges Abigail McGowan, Associate Professor of History and
Associate Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, University of Vermont, as well as the
archives of the Sir JJ College of Architecture for the various resources for this essay.
https://blog.saffronart.com/tag/kekoo-gandhy/

Marg, established as a magazine dedicated to art and architecture,

was first published in October 1946, a year before India’s
independence. The publication was founded by novelist and
writer Mulk Raj Anand, who served as Editor for several of its
volumes. As the Marg website notes, “With ‘seven ads and two rooms’
provided by the visionary industrialist J.R.D. Tata, it took up the
massive task of identifying, cataloguing, and publicizing the nation’s
heritage in the built, visual, and performing arts.”
Over the next decades, Anand, along with Assistant Editor Anil de
Silva and Art Advisor Karl Khandalavala, led and firmly established
this independent quarterly journal as one of the country’s most well-
regarded publications in the fields of art and architecture. Following
Anand’s long and celebrated tenure as editor, Saryu Doshi and
Pratapaditya Pal led the publication, and this year, Vidya Dehejia took
over the post.

Saffronart’s Words & Lines III Auction, held earlier this year, featured
two issues from the very first volume of the magazine, published in
January and April 1947 respectively, which included articles
contributed by Frank Lloyd Wright, Karl Khandalavala, Herman Goetz,
John Terry, Martin Russell and Kekoo Gandhy among others. A
treasure trove of information and a collector’s delight, this set sold for
more than four times its estimate.
An excellent resource for the study of ancient Indian art and culture as
well, early Marg magazines have included some of the most
pioneering scholarship on sites like Ajanta and Ellora, Khajuraho,
Hampi and Konark. Saffronart’s collection From the Library of a
Collector, features several early Marg publications on these subjects,
as well as on the Heritage and Splendours of India.
Today, from its headquarters at the historic Army & Navy Building in
Mumbai’s Kala Ghoda art district, Marg publishes quarterly issues of
its magazine (currently in its 63rd volume) and four hard bound books
each year. The Marg Foundation also collaborates with various
entities to publish several single author books and other special
publications, and has produced a few documentary films as well.
 1. Types of Journalism
Investigate
News
Reviews
Columns
Feature writing
2. Types of Users

Localities architects and conservationist

Tourist worshipers

Students

3. A person thinking about magazines and buildings

4. Building in the surroundings ( eg of new yorker )
5. Students presenting their work ( sheets pinned up on a board) and professor asking
questions.
6. Overview of architectural journalism (keep this as last when all of above are done)