Too Expensive: The Solar Decathlon

Competing in the Solar Decathlon is now so expensive that Yale University can't afford it. Yale has withdrawn from the 2015 competition, just weeks away, citing problems with fundraising. The total budget for a Solar Decathlon house often exceeds $2 million.* I included a discussion of Decathlon, and the cost issues, in The Solar House.

Of course Yale can afford it; the school's endowment is $23.9 billion (link). Apparently the decision-makers at Yale don't think the Solar Decathlon is a worthy use of that money. I can imagine those conversations, and I can imagine that it's a reasonable decision. In any case, this is certainly a black eye for the Decathlon.

Design for the Yale Solar House (2015) which will apparently remain unbuilt. Public domain.

Design for the Yale Solar House (2015) which will apparently remain unbuilt. Public domain.

The 2015 Solar Decathlon occurs October 8-18 at the Orange County Great Park, in Irvine, California. 16 other teams will compete.

As of now, the Yale team's website is still active.

*Counterpoint: Norwich University built "The Most Affordable Solar Decathlon House. Ever." (pdf)

See also:
#SD2015
The Solar Decathlon: Back to Irvine
The “Shading Decathlon”?

Preservation Today: The Big Question

Like most architectural historians, I am a big supporter of the preservation of historic buildings.  I understand the history of preservation, and how the loss of important buildings like Penn Station forged a grass-roots social movement which properly fights against top-down planning and backroom redevelopment deals.

However, there is a growing concern that attitudes (and rules) about preservation may become too strong in the future and crowd out the possibility for new heritage to be created.  In Europe, there is now a discourse about "museumification," which is concerned with cities becoming frozen in time due to preservation restrictions.

Consider Vienna in the 19th century as an example which might shed some light on these issues.  When Vienna developed the famous Ringstrasse in the 1850s-80s, it immediately became a great modern city, "on a par with Paris," as Mark Girouard describes in his classic book Cities and People (1985).

Vienna's Rigstrasse in 1900.  Public Domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

Vienna's Rigstrasse in 1900.  Public Domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

To create the Ringstrasse, Vienna destroyed its medieval city walls, ramparts, and gates.  In other words, in order to modernize and to achieve the high design quality that makes the city so special, Vienna needed to demolish a very important piece of its heritage.  To some extent, Vienna imitated Paris, where Haussmann removed many of the city's medieval neighborhoods.

Could a project like the Ringstrasse be accomplished today?  Probably not.  If it were proposed today, there would be organized protest.  There would be multiple levels of public review and regulatory controls, probably culminating in legal action and years of delay awaiting court proceedings.  In all likelihood, the wall would become a museum of medieval history, or a museum of Vienna's history.  (To be fair, there are some some examples of large-scale urban renewal occurring.  I think of London, in the Docklands, and New York in Atlantic Yards.  Industrial areas seem to evade the scrutiny of preservationists, perhaps because these histories are not quite important enough, or perhaps the overriding value is to clean up pollution.)

Of course we should not wantonly discard historic buildings, structures, or landscapes.  But we should acknowledge and debate the fact that we have evolved a set of attitudes and policies that make it practically impossible to engage in grandiose developments that might make a city great all-at-once, as happened in Vienna in the 19th century. 

Your thoughts?  Please comment!

Is your window "thermally desirable"?

In my research for The Solar House I came upon this statement by a British engineering professor in 1976:

"If during a 24-hr period the incoming heat is greater than the loss, the window is thermally profitable for that day.  Furthermore, if during a year the incoming heat is greater than the loss, the window is thermally desirable.  If overall the window gives a net positive gain, its size should be as large as possible.  Conversely, if the long-term window net gain is negative, its best size is zero.…  On a purely thermal basis there is no optimum intermediate size: The window is either maximum or zero."

The quotation is from Dr. Morris Davies*, an engineer at the University of Liverpool, who was part of a research team that spent about ten years analyzing the performance of the St. George’s School by Emslie Morgan (Wallasey, 1961-62), an immensely interesting building I wrote about in The Solar House.

What an excellent illustration of the difference between scientific optimization and design!  Davies' optimized architecture would typically have an all-glass south wall, and all-solid walls on the east, west, and south.   In my view, this is why computer simulations can contribute to architectural design, but they can not be generative or determinant of architectural design.  Scientific knowledge is one important ingredient in a more complex recipe, and human judgments are essential.

Of course, Davies' position here did not consider that windows have other functions beyond thermal (and he admitted so).  They may be desirable for providing daylight, or views, and they may be undesirable for bringing discomfort due to glare.  St. George’s School did indeed suffer a glare problem, of which Davies was aware.

But even from a purely technical point of view, Davies was wrong.  To focus on annual net gain is too simplistic; it neglects the fact that quite a bit of passive solar heat is collected in afternoons in the Spring and Fall, when it is likely to be unwanted because it causes the building to overheat, depending on the weather and other factors of course.  To make a good window "maximum" is to increase the overheating problem.  Any number of solar house architects learned that lesson the hard way, long before 1976, as I detail in The Solar House

Note that overheating does not necessarily imply that the building needs air-conditioning.  Opening some windows may suffice, especially on a swing-season afternoon.  This was most certainly the case in Wallasey.  Still, the solar gains at that time are, for the most part, not beneficial.

Clearly Davies was speaking theoretically, and perhaps he assumed that windows would be shaded at times when the building doesn't need heat.  In practice, shading never works in a theoretically-optimum manner.  Or perhaps he assumed that thermal mass lagtime and carryover effects would effectively redistribute the heat from day to night.  In practice, this is also limited.

Nevertheless, I do enjoy the phrase "thermally desirable," and it wouldn't hurt if most architects adopted a little bit of that mindset when thinking about windows.

*Davies was quoted in Joseph E. Perry, Jr.. “The Wallasey School,” Proceedings of the Conference on Passive Solar Heating and Cooling, 1976.

Previously: Why I care about Building Science

A Paul Siple Quotation

"It would appear that in some cases architects have had a tendency to devote unbalanced attention to style and appearance, much after the fashion of women's hat designers, who strive for the expression of uniqueness until the function of head-cover for protection from weather loses its meaning; and woe be it when such hats are caught out in rain, wind or blizzardy weather."

---Paul Siple, "Climatic Criteria for Building Construction" (1950)
linked here

I love quotations like this, because they demonstrate the distance that developed in the 20th century between the conventions of high architecture and a vernacular approach to building based on well-educated common sense and first principles.  See also: a Reyner Banham quotation from "Stocktaking."  There's a wonderful story to be told about how that distance developed (beginning in earlier centuries).  It should be written by somebody who can be sympathetic to both sides.

Who was Paul Siple?  Today he would be called a climate scientist.  He worked for the military.  He invented the term wind chill factor, and several features in Antarctica are named for him.  See Wikipedia

Siple was closely affiliated with the solar house community.  He attended the 1950 MIT Symposium (which I characterize as "a great summit meeting of solar architects and engineers" in The Solar House), where he gave a paper entitled “Feasibility of Solar Heating Systems.”  Earlier he contributed to the House Beautiful Climate Control Project ("How Many Climates Do We Have in the U.S.?", October 1949).

Book Review: Hyperlocalization of Architecture

How do we come to terms with the fact that Sustainable Architecture can encompass everything from Japanese microhousing to Mexican shopping malls?  The new book Hyperlocalization of Architecture: Contemporary Sustainable Archetypes by Andrew Michler gives us some new tools to understand this vast, disorganized movement.  I recommend it to anyone who wants a richer understanding of what's going on, globally, in architecture.

Michler traveled to several destinations around the globe and found (for the most part) unfamiliar architects working out new ideas about sustainable architecture.  The format, which juxtaposes interviews with the architects and well-illustrated projects, is outstanding, because the reader can toggle back and forth to assemble meaning out of words and images.  The effect is one of discovery.  What does Sean Godsell mean when he talks about "playing with childhood memory"?  I turn the pages and begin to locate what this means in the building images.  Michler also offers some interpretive passages, and rather than being intrusive they tend to offer more clues.

Michler's book is full of wonderful revelations.  The real strength of the book is in its curatorial sense of adventure.  Who knew, for example, about the wonderful Spanish architect Berta Barrio and her projects such as Biblioteca de Can Llaurador?  Now I do!  I love her notion that "We are not comfortable if we are just looking for shape when we design."  (This theme of anti-formalism seems to run through the book.)

Like me, Michler loves Japan and seeks to understand its peculiar customs.  His observant essay "Japan Condenses" begins with this paradox: "A new house may have practically no insulation but the toilet seat is always heated."  What does this mean for Sustainable Architecture?  His answer cleverly touches on everything from building science to urbanism to Japanese shopping habits.  Michler's ability to deftly connect the dots across disciplines results in insights which are both smart and fun.

I wish Michler had included London, which has in my opinion the most well-developed building culture in the world.  I expect he stayed away since he is understandably averse to the 'starchitects' like Zaha and Foster, and because global capital is driving much of the agenda in the city right now.  Still, I think he would have found some smaller firms --- like Cullinan Studio, Waugh Thistleton, and Juice Architects --- doing exceptional work and exploring new ideas with an exciting pragmatism.

Of course Sustainable is a slippery word and it's a common criticism that Sustainable Architecture is interpreted differently in different places.  But I think Michler wants to celebrate that Sustainable Architecture will look different in one place than another.  And his term Hyperlocalization even suggests, I think, that sustainability goals will be achieved differently in one place than another.  In other words, Michler is arguing For a Contingent Architecture, one produced as people respond to the peculiar physical and cultural needs and opportunities of their place. 

I would argue that this is akin to the developmental period of modern architecture in the 1920s.  At that time, architects all over the world explored new ideas about space and form, and though they shared a basic agenda, they produced different kinds of buildings.  California's modernism was different from Paris', which was different from Germany's, and so on.  Did Bijovet and Neutra wring their hands about the fact that their strains of modern architecture were different from one another?  Of course not!

Likewise we shouldn't be anxious about the imprecise definition of Sustainable Architecture.  What Michler's book finally shows us is that the world of architecture is pluralistic and dispersed, and it's at the beginning of a profound revolution; this is really exciting stuff.

Disclaimer: Andrew Michler is a friend.  But I wouldn't write anything here that I don't believe.

Related: Elrond Burrell's review (May 2016)