Building from Tradition: Local Materials and Methods in Contemporary Architecture 1138909920, 9781138909922

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Building from Tradition Building from Tradition examines the recent resurgence of interest in the handmade building and the use of local and renewable materials in contemporary construction. In the past, raw materials were shaped to provide shelter and to accommodate the cultural, social, and economic needs of individuals and communities. This is still true today as architects, engineers, and builders turn once again to local resources and methods, not simply for constructing buildings, but also as a strategy for supporting social engagement, sustainable development, and cultural continuity. Building from Tradition features global case studies that allow readers to understand how building practices—developed and refined by previous generations—continue to be adapted to suit a broad range of cultural and environmental contexts. The book provides: •

a survey of historical and technical information about geologic and plant-based materials such as: stone, earth, reed and grass, wood, and bamboo;

•

24 detailed case studies examining the disadvantages and benefits to using traditional materials and methods and how they are currently being integrated with contemporary construction practices.

Elizabeth M. Golden is a registered architect in the United States and in Germany. She has contributed her expertise to the design and construction of the Gohar Khatoon Girls’ School, the largest institution of its kind in Afghanistan, and to Niamey 2000, an urban housing proposal for the rapidly expanding capital of Niger. As an Assistant Professor in the Department of Architecture at the University of Washington, she teaches courses focused on design, materials, and building technology, with an emphasis on sustainable systems. She is also co-director of the Philippines Bamboo Workshop.

Taylor & Francis Taylor & Francis Group http:/taylorandfrancis.com

Building from Tradition Local Materials and Methods in Contemporary Architecture Elizabeth M. Golden

ROUTLEDGE

Routledge Taylor & Francis Group

LONDON AND NEW YORK

First published 2018 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2018 Elizabeth M. Golden The right of Elizabeth M. Golden to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-1-138-90991-5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-138-90992-2 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-69370-5 (ebk) Typeset in Helvetica Neue by Servis Filmsetting Ltd, Stockport, Cheshire

Contents Acknowledgements Figure Credits

4.2 Dungga Daycare .................................. 106 4.3 Common Ground Neighborhood ......... 112 4.4 Women’s Opportunity Center .............. 117 4.5 Esperanza Series ................................. 122 4.6 Ma’anqiao Village Reconstruction ....... 127

vi vii

Introduction: Building from Tradition ...................... 1 Part I: Material Fundamentals 1

Geologic Materials ............................................ 7 Earth............................................................... 8 Stone............................................................ 16

2

Plant Materials ................................................ 27 Reeds and Grasses...................................... 28 Wood ............................................................ 35 Bamboo ....................................................... 44

5

Materials and Place....................................... 133 5.1 Tåkern Visitor Center ........................... 136 5.2 Al Jahili Fort ......................................... 142 5.3 Jianamani Visitor Center ...................... 147 5.4 Bry-sur-Marne Social Housing............. 153 5.5 Wind and Water Bar ............................. 159 5.6 Haus am Moor ..................................... 164

6

Primitive to Performative............................... 171 6.1 Kargyak Learning Center ..................... 174 6.2 Pani Community Center ....................... 179 6.3 Haus Rauch ......................................... 186 6.4 Aknaibich Preschool ............................ 191 6.5 Blooming Bamboo Home .................... 197 6.6 Thread Artist Residency and................ 203 Cultural Center

7

Reflections and Looking Ahead .................... 211

Part II: Material Strategies 3

4

Bespoke to Standardized................................ 59 3.1 Onjuku Beach House ............................. 63 3.2 Hostal Ritoque ....................................... 69 3.3 Niamey 2000 .......................................... 75 3.4 Base Affordable Housing ....................... 81 3.5 ModCell Straw Technology .................... 86 3.6 Ricola Kräuterzentrum ........................... 91 Local Engagement .......................................... 97 4.1 Opera Village and Center for .............. 100 Health Care and Social Promotion

Index ....................................................................221

Acknowledgements This book would not have been possible without the support of David Miller, chair of the Department of Architecture at the University of Washington (2007–2015). He, in addition to my colleagues Ann Huppert and Vikram Prakash, offered encouragement and guidance at critical moments during the development of this project. Research for this project was made possible by a grant from the University of Washington Royalty Research Fund. Several individuals deserve special recognition for offering their expertise on materials and building traditions. Thanks goes to Ray Villanueva, Rene Armogenia, and Herbie Teodoro for furthering my understanding of bamboo construction, and to Kent Harries, for bringing me up to speed on bamboo and the ISO standardization process. I also owe a great deal to Mariam Kamara for enhancing my knowledge of compressed earth block construction, as well as earth architecture in Niger. Thanks to Li Peipei Sun who assisted with translations and advanced my work through her graduate thesis project, which included research on counter-urbanization and building traditions in China. I am extremely appreciative of the cooperation, enthusiasm, and generosity of all participating firms and organizations. I would like to specifically thank Till Gröner, Corrina Salzer, Christina Jentsch, Lutz Nadia, Clemens Quirin, David Barragán, Jordan Mactavish, Alejandro Soffia, Bruce Engel, Finlay White, Alastair Townsend, Li Wan, Sandy Bishop, Takashi Niwa, Gerrit Schilder Jr., Hill Scholte, who spent time answering questions and reviewing case study drafts. I must also thank Nancy Later for her editorial assistance and Jacqueline Golden for her copyediting and encouragement. And finally, I am grateful to my husband Philip Straeter; his unwavering patience and support allowed me to complete this book.

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Acknowledgements

Figure Credits 1.1 Mud brick ice house in Iran. Source: © Adam Jones (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 1.2 Contemporary rammed earth house in Arizona, USA. Source: © David Quigley (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 1.3 Traditional mud brick house next to contemporary concrete home in Al Huwayah, Oman. Source: © Bart Dooms 1.4 Agadez, Niger. Source: © Russell Scott 1.5 Rammed earth construction. Source: © Steve Hoge 1.6 Making mud bricks. Source: © Frank Stabel 1.7 Compacting earth with pneumatic backfill tamper. Source: © Markus Bühler-Rasom 1.8 Cob combined with light wood frame construction. Source: © Natural Building Extravaganza (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 1.9 Making compressed earth blocks. Source: © Gustave Deghilage 1.10 Massive dry stone wall at Machu Picchu, Peru. Source: © Jorge Láscar (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 1.11 “The Slave” by Michelangelo. Source: © Scala/Art Resource, NY 1.12 Granite cobble stones. Source: © Onnola (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 1.13 Limestone wall. Source: © Martin Thomas (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 1.14 Marble flooring. Source: © Xlibber (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 1.15 Irregular stone wall. Source: © Stefan David (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 1.16 Stratified wall. Source: © Edgar Pierce (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 1.17 Squared ashlar wall. Source: © SEIER+SEIER (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 1.18 Emplecton wall. Source: © Harvey Barrison (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 1.19 Corbeled roof. Credit: Maxim Matusevich 1.20 Massive stone exterior of the Druk White Lotus School. Credit: Eryn Gaul 1.21 Massive stone foundations of the Gohar Khatoon Girls’ School. Source: © Sahar, Credit: Airokhsh Faiz Qaisary 2.1 Traditional Japanese minka house in Japan. Source: © Tanaka Juuyoh (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 2.2 Reed structure built by the Al Shakamra tribe in Al Kuthra, Iraq. Credit: 318th Psychological Operations Company, US Army 2.3 Common reed. Source: © The New York State Integrated Pest Management Program at Cornell University (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 2.4 Earth plaster with straw. Source: © Frank Stabel 2.5 Roof thatch installation. Source: © Bernard Marcia (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 2.6 Traditional thatched roof in Japan. Source: © Bryan (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 2.7 Straw bale house ca. 1926 in Nebraska, USA. Source: © Nebraska State Historical Society 2.8 Yusuhara Marche by Kengo Kuma & Associates. Source: © Takumi Ota Photography 2.9 Contemporary straw bale construction in Utah, USA. Source: © U.S. Department of Agriculture (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/) 2.10a Prefabricated CLT and straw elements for the Gateway Building. Source: © Make Architects 2.10b The Gateway Building at the University of Nottingham. Source: © Make Architects 2.11 Wood detailing of the Villa Sørensen by Arne Jacobsen. Source: © SEIER+SEIER (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 2.12 Wood under a microscope at 40x magnification. Source: © GorissenM (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 2.13 Log cabin in Kansas, USA. Source: © Luke Lienau (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 2.14 German Fachwerkhaus. Source: © Michael Pollak (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)

Figure Credits

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2.15a Mortise and tenon joint. Source: © Peter Alfred Hess (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 2.15b Half-lap joint. Source: © Peter Alfred Hess (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 2.16 Cross-laminated timber blocks. Source: © Oregon Department of Forestry (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/) 2.17 Haus Walpen, modified log construction. Source: © Lucia Degonda 2.18 Bamboo bridge in Vietnam. Source: © Vincent Hudry (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 2.19 Bamboo clump. Source: © Quinn Dombrowski (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 2.20 Bolo or Filipino bamboo knife. Credit: Elizabeth M. Golden 2.21 Bamboo shingles. Credit: Elizabeth M. Golden 2.22 Flattening bamboo culms. Credit: Elizabeth M. Golden 2.23 A contemporary bahay kubo before pegging and lashing. Credit: Kejia Zhang 2.24 Bamboo floor. Source: © Marlon E (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/) 2.25 Fish mouth joint. Credit: Buddy Burkhalter 2.26 Bahareque construction. Source: © José Antonio Rivas Ramírez 2.27 Laminated bamboo. Credit: Elizabeth M. Golden 2.28 Bamboo roof structure in vacation house by Mañosa & Company. Credit: Elizabeth M. Golden 3.1 Prefabricated rammed earth panels at the Ricola Kräuterzentrum. Source: © Markus Bühler-Rasom 3.1.1 Onjuku Beach House exterior view. Source: © BAKOKO 3.1.2 CNC precut timber members. Source: © BAKOKO 3.1.3 Structural framing plan. Source: © BAKOKO 3.1.4 Timber frame assembly. Source: © BAKOKO 3.1.5 Main floor plan. Source: © BAKOKO 3.1.6 Living room. Source: © BAKOKO 3.2.1 View of Hostal Ritoque from south. Source: © Pablo Casals-Aguirre 3.2.2 Site plan. Source: © Gabriel Rudolphy + Alejandro Soffia Arquitectos 3.2.3 Exterior view. Source: © Juan Durán Sierralta 3.2.4 Plans and axonometric drawings of communal living spaces. Source: © Gabriel Rudolphy + Alejandro Soffia Arquitectos 3.2.5 Wood framing. Source: © Gabriel Rudolphy + Alejandro Soffia Arquitectos 3.2.6 View from guesthouse. Source: © Pablo Casals-Aguirre 3.3.1 Niamey 2000 from southwest. Source: © united4design, credit Torsten Seidel 3.3.2 Ground-floor plan and longitudinal section. Source: © united4design 3.3.3 Compressed earth block construction. Source: © united4design, credit Mariam Kamara 3.3.4 Southeast corner from street. Source: © united4design, credit Torsten Seidel 3.3.5 Earth masonry vaults. Source: © united4design, credit Torsten Seidel 3.4.1 Two-story duplex in Iloilo City. Source: © Base 3.4.2 Cement bamboo frame construction. Source: © Base 3.4.3 Prefabricated bamboo elements after installation. Source: © Base 3.4.4 Home interior. Source: © Base 3.5.1 Panel assembly. Source: © ModCell 3.5.2 BaleHaus. Source: © ModCell 3.5.3 LILAC cohousing. Source: © ModCell 3.5.4 Section showing ModCell units clad with brick. Source: © ModCell 3.5.5 Shirehampton homes. Source: © ModCell 3.6.1 Ricola Kräuterzentrum from southwest. Source: © Markus Bühler-Rasom 3.6.2 Ground-floor plan and longitudinal section. Source: © Herzog & de Meuron 3.6.3a Prefabricated rammed earth panels. Source: © Markus Bühler-Rasom 3.6.3b Panel installation. Source: © Markus Bühler-Rasom 3.6.3c Filling and tamping seams between panels. Source: © Markus Bühler-Rasom 3.6.3d Earth render application on interior. Source: © Markus Bühler-Rasom 4.1 Members of the Women’s Opportunity Center construction team. Source: © Sharon Davis Design 4.1.1 Bird’s eye view of future Opera Village. Source: © Kéré Architecture

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Figure Credits

4.1.2 4.1.3 4.1.4 4.1.5 4.1.6 4.1.7 4.2.1 4.2.2 4.2.3 4.2.4 4.2.5 4.3.1 4.3.2 4.3.3 4.3.4 4.3.5 4.3.6 4.4.1 4.4.2 4.4.3 4.4.4 4.4.5 4.4.6 4.4.7 4.5.1 4.5.2 4.5.3 4.5.4 4.5.5 4.6.1 4.6.2 4.6.3 4.6.4 4.6.5 4.6.6 5.1 5.1.1 5.1.2 5.1.3 5.1.4 5.1.5 5.1.6 5.1.7 5.2.1 5.2.2 5.2.3 5.2.4 5.2.5 5.2.6 5.2.7 5.3.1 5.3.2 5.3.3

Center for Health Care and Social Promotion from northwest. Source: © Erik-Jan Ouwerkerk Ground-floor plan. Source: © Kéré Architecture Building section. Source: © Kéré Architecture Exterior wall section. Source: © Kéré Architecture Interior courtyard. Source: © Kéré Architecture Members of the construction team. Source: © Grünhelme, credit Till Gröner Students constructing the daycare roof. Source: © Estudio Damgo, credit Ray Villanueva Dungga Daycare from northwest. Source: © Estudio Damgo, credit Ray Villanueva West elevation. Source: © Estudio Damgo, credit Ray Villanueva Floor plan and transverse section. Source: © Estudio Damgo Daycare interior. Source: © Estudio Damgo, credit Ray Villanueva Common Ground Neighborhood. Source: © Mithun One- and two-bedroom flex units. Source: © Mithun Energy systems. Source: © Mithun Straw bale construction crew. Source: © Mithun Straw bale wall foundation. Source: © Mithun Straw bale plaster finish. Source: © Mithun Demonstration farm at Women’s Opportunity Center. Source: © Elizabeth Felicella Site plan. Source: © Sharon Davis Design Brick production. Source: © Sharon Davis Design Brick form. Source: © Sharon Davis Design Brick kiln. Source: © Sharon Davis Design Coursing plans. Source: © Sharon Davis Design Classroom interior. Source: © Elizabeth Felicella Esperanza Dos. Source: © Al Borde, credit Andrea Vargas Diagrams of structural system. Source: © Al Borde Tripod construction. Source: © Al Borde Interior of Esperanza Dos. Source: © Al Borde, credit Andrea Vargas Community workshop. Source: © Al Borde Ma’anqiao after 2011 earthquake. Credit: Jun Mu Ma’anqiao after reconstruction. Credit: Li Wan Constructing the house prototype. Credit: Jun Mu House improvements. Credit: Li Wan Reconstructed homes. Credit: Jun Mu Ma’anqiao village center. Credit: Jun Mu Cutting wood for Haus am Moor in Vorarlberg, Austria. Source: © Bernardo Bader Architekten Visitor center on Lake Tåkern. Source: © Christian Badenfelt Main entry. Source: © Åke E:son Lindman Exhibit space. Source: © Åke E:son Lindman Floor plan. Source: © Wingårdh Arkitektkontor Thatch façade of visitor center. Source: © Åke E:son Lindman Section detail. Source: © Wingårdh Arkitektkontor Thatch installation. Source: © Wingårdh Arkitektkontor Al Jahili Fort courtyard. Source: © Torsten Seidel Site Plan. Source: © Roswag & Jankowski Architekten Reinstallation of timber beams. Source: © Roswag & Jankowski Architekten Base layer application of clay plaster. Source: © Roswag & Jankowski Architekten Environmental systems diagram. Source: © Roswag & Jankowski Architekten Cooling system installation. Source: © Roswag & Jankowski Architekten Café and arcade. Source: © Roswag & Jankowski Architekten Visitor center exterior. Source: © Atelier TeamMinus Diagram of significant sites surrounding the Jianamani Visitor Center. Source: © Atelier TeamMinus Mani stones. Source: © Ken Marshall (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)

Figure Credits

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5.3.4 5.3.5 5.3.6 5.4.1 5.4.2 5.4.3 5.4.4 5.4.5 5.4.6 5.4.7 5.5.1 5.5.2 5.5.3 5.5.4 5.5.5 5.5.6 5.6.1 5.6.2 5.6.3 5.6.4 5.6.5 5.6.6 6.1 6.1.1 6.1.2 6.1.3 6.1.4 6.1.5 6.1.6 6.1.7 6.1.8 6.2.1 6.2.2 6.2.3 6.2.4 6.2.5 6.2.6 6.2.7 6.2.8 6.3.1 6.3.2 6.3.3 6.3.4 6.3.5 6.3.6 6.3.7 6.3.8 6.4.1 6.4.2 6.4.3 6.4.4 6.4.5 6.4.6

x

Ground-floor plan. Source: © Atelier TeamMinus Stone masonry. Source: © Atelier TeamMinus Viewing platform. Source: © Atelier TeamMinus Courtyard elevation. Source: © Sergio Grazia Main floor plans and longitudinal section. Source: © Eliet & Lehmann Architectes East elevation. Source: © Sergio Grazia Noyant quarry. Source: © Pierre-Yves Brunaud Section and elevation detail. Source: © Eliet & Lehmann Architectes Cut stone. Source: © Pierre-Yves Brunaud Stone assembly. Source: © Pierre-Yves Brunaud Wind and Water Bar exterior. Source: © Hiroyuki Oki Plan and section. Source: © Vo Trong Nghia Architects Bamboo framing. Source: © Hiroyuki Oki Roof structure. Source: © Vo Trong Nghia Architects Foundation connection. Source: © Vo Trong Nghia Architects Bar interior. Source: © Phan Quang Haus am Moor east elevation. Source: © Adolf Bereuter Plans and transverse section. Source: © Bernardo Bader Architekten Panel installation. Source: © Bernardo Bader Architekten Studio interior. Source: © Adolf Bereuter Foundation excavation. Source: © Bernardo Bader Architekten Heating system installation. Source: © Bernardo Bader Architekten Earthquake-resistant construction at the Aknaibich Preschool. Source: © Frank Stabel View of learning center and Kargyak village. Source: © arch i platform Collecting stones. Source: © arch i platform Exterior of Kargyak Learning Center. Source: © arch i platform Construction site. Source: © arch i platform Diagram of wall construction. Source: © arch i platform Diagram of wall heat capture system. Source: © arch i platform Diagram under-floor heating system. Source: © arch i platform Floor plan. Source: © arch i platform Northwest corner Pani Community Center. Source: © SchilderScholte Architects Plaza. Source: © SchilderScholte Architects Classroom south elevation. Source: © SchilderScholte Architects Ground-floor plan and longitudinal sections. Source: © SchilderScholte Architects Bamboo column details. Source: © SchilderScholte Architects Work area. Source: © SchilderScholte Architects Brick pier construction. Source: © SchilderScholte Architects Classroom interior. Source: © SchilderScholte Architects Haus Rauch west elevation. Source: © Beat Bühler Rammed earth with tile inserts. Source: © Beat Bühler Wall construction. Source: © Lehm Ton Erde Baukunst Longitudinal section. Source: © Roger Boltshauser Exterior wall detail. Source: © Roger Boltshauser Heating system installation. Source: © Lehm Ton Erde Baukunst Reed insulation installation. Source: © Lehm Ton Erde Baukunst Interior walls finished with clay plaster. Source: © Beat Bühler Aknaibich Preschool west elevation. Source: © Frank Stabel Plan and transverse section. Source: © BC architects + MAMOTH Classroom north elevation. Source: © Frank Stabel Classroom interior. Source: © Frank Stabel Detail of reinforced masonry piers. Source: © BC architects + MAMOTH Classroom construction. Source: © Thomas Joos

Figure Credits

6.4.7 6.5.1 6.5.2 6.5.3 6.5.4 6.5.5 6.5.6 6.6.1 6.6.2 6.6.3 6.6.4 6.6.5 6.6.6 6.6.7 6.6.8 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 7.7

Cork roof insulation. Source: © Frank Stabel Blooming Bamboo Home exterior. Source: © H&P Architects Floor plan and section. Source: © H&P Architects Lower level living space. Source: © H&P Architects Upper level living space. Source: © H&P Architects Assembly diagram. Source: © H&P Architects Exterior façade. Source: © H&P Architects Thread from southeast. Source: © Iwan Baan Thatched roof. Source: © Iwan Baan Floor plan. Source: © Toshiko Mori Architect Gathering space. Source: © Iwan Baan Materials and water diagrams. Source: © Toshiko Mori Architect Bamboo roof structure. Source: © Toshiko Mori Architect Binding grass. Source: © Toshiko Mori Architect Roof thatching. Source: © Toshiko Mori Architect Agriculture Pavilion and Crafts Workshop in Pingtian, China. Source: © DnA Design and Architecture Abandoned village of Dushang, Guangdong Province, China. Source: © Yu Wu Pingtian Agriculture Pavilion and Crafts Workshop exterior. Source: © DnA Design and Architecture Exhibit space. Source: © DnA Design and Architecture Dandaji Mosque. Credit: Mariam Kamara Axon of Dandaji Library. Source: © Yasaman Esmaili and Mariam Kamara Interior of library. Source: © Yasaman Esmaili and Mariam Kamara

Figure Credits

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Taylor & Francis Taylor & Francis Group http:/taylorandfrancis.com

Introduction: Building from Tradition Over the course of the last decade there has been a resurgence of interest in the handmade building, as well as in the use of local and renewable materials in building construction. This has come at a time when concerns about the environment and economic development are at an all-time high. These volatile circumstances have either provoked or encouraged some individuals to consider methods of construction that are more responsive to local conditions. In the past, raw materials were shaped to provide shelter and to accommodate the cultural, social, and economic needs of individuals and communities. This is still true today as architects, engineers, and builders turn once again to local resources and methods, not simply for constructing buildings, but also as a strategy for supporting social engagement, sustainable development, and cultural continuity. Building from Tradition closely examines how building practices— developed and refined by previous generations— continue to be adapted to suit a broad range of cultural and environmental contexts. The relationship between materials and humans began with the first attempts to build shelter. Materials employed in construction rarely remained in their ‘natural’ or raw state, and were transformed from the moment they were exposed or extracted. To understand the nature of a material meant to work with it directly, and working with accessible resources led to an understanding of their limits and capabilities. As architectural historian and theorist David Leatherbarrow notes, “No stone is known in construction that is not first ‘grasped’ manually. Knowledge of the nature of materials, on which selection depends, is a matter of manual or at least bodily comprehension.”1 Materials originated from direct methods of production— worked by hand or formed using simple mechanical equipment. This immediacy fostered a dynamic exchange between materiality and people, each influencing the other. Building materials were the product of human work, their ‘evolution’ occurring through manual processes and the material itself acting as the

medium through which accumulated knowledge was passed from one generation to the next. Materials were selected not only for their functional properties but also for their social, symbolic, and ritual value. It is this process of discovery and identification, when repeated over successive generations, that can be identified as tradition. Tradition is often understood as something that is passed down through action, and in this case specifically, through the act of building. Methods and techniques were disseminated globally over thousands of years; knowledge was transferred via diverse routes and adapted according to the regional climate and resources. Local identities and building practices emerged out of this constantly changing process. Today, the builder’s immediate relationship to the site and building process has given way to construction systems dependent upon global supply chain logistics and economies. Beginning with the Industrial Revolution, building construction has been radically transformed and traditional methods have been superseded by construction systems reliant on manufactured materials such as steel and glass. After World War II, the use of industrialized materials grew dramatically. In the United States, for example, almost half of the materials consumed in 1900 were based on renewable resources such as wood and other plant-based materials: by 1990, the consumption of these resources declined to less than 8 percent.2 The shift from traditional to modern methods has not occurred in all places equally, nor has it transpired all at once. The reliance on large-scale manufacturing and distribution—now the norm in industrialized countries—has been periodically challenged by (perceived and real) material scarcity, causing brief returns to older, more direct methods of construction. Such a revival of lowtech practices occurred in the German Democratic Republic during the Cold War period, when the lack of resources and growing demand for housing prompted the government to implement a largescale program reliant on earth-based construction.3

Introduction: Building from Tradition

1

The US government sponsored a similar program during the Great Depression. In these instances, economic necessity warranted an occasional departure from industrialized systems. In socalled developing nations, this is often still the case; individuals with limited financial means build with what is close at hand, rather than relying on expensive materials imported from other areas. Resources such as earth and bamboo are still commonly used for construction in many parts of the world, and yet these materials are often labeled as ‘alternative’ and regarded as inferior to industrially produced concrete or steel systems. In the US and Europe, trade organizations and producers of manufactured building components promote the use of their products and support new materials research and testing. With the exception of wood, few traditional materials have been developed and marketed in this way, mostly because their composition and execution introduce numerous variables that have not, until recently, been well understood by the construction industry. As a result, the predictability of these materials hardly improved before the 1990s, and traditional construction methods remained relatively unaffected by modern advances in building technology. Current concerns about climate change and a greater demand for healthier buildings have fostered an interest in the use of minimally processed and transported construction materials. Consequently, some traditional materials have experienced a modest resurgence since the mid-1990s. More than a romantic revival of anachronistic practices, recent developments have focused on enhancing material performance by contemporary means. Research and testing, in addition to collaborative on-site training, are providing a greater understanding of materials whose properties have previously been difficult to quantify. Studies focused on improving material performance have been carried out with the intent to develop and promote sustainable construction practices. The German government, for example, has funded research focused on establishing guidelines for certain types of earthen construction; consequentially, that material has obtained a higher level of performance over the past two decades than in the last thousand years. Traditional materials offer several significant advantages over contemporary building products. Their production is often achieved through simple processes, requiring minimal (or no) power,

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Introduction: Building from Tradition

making them very attractive in countries where energy costs are high. In addition, the materials are commonly biocompatible—that is, non-toxic and easily cycled between economic and natural systems.4 Most are either renewable or derived from resources so ubiquitous that their supply is considered virtually inexhaustible. The application of traditional materials in building construction often relies on low-tech methods using manual labor, reducing reliance on expensive power tools and equipment. In addition to having a low impact on the environment, many of the materials can be designed to fulfill multiple functions within a building, reducing the number of discrete elements typically required in a conventional construction assembly. For example, straw shaped into bales performs thermally as well as structurally, providing a high degree of insulation. Similarly, heavy earth masonry or rammed earth walls can function simultaneously as structure and as temperatureregulating thermal mass. The multifunctionality of various traditional materials often simplifies construction, making it easier for non-experts to understand and actually take part in the building process. Thus, community participation frequently plays a key role in projects incorporating traditional materials. These efforts act as social and economic catalysts, challenging accepted modes of spatial production by disengaging from global markets and connecting instead to local resource systems. This is an important aspect for a number of architects working in locations such as China and India, where engaging tradition and local culture through ‘old’ construction practices has become a potential strategy for countering the uniformity of contemporary development. Traditional materials in these scenarios offer possibilities that conventional ones cannot: materials originating in the surrounding landscape create strong ties with the local geography and culture, and their immediacy provides valuable opportunities for engagement and experimentation. Although traditional materials may offer many advantages, their potential is often limited by a contemporary set of complex circumstances— building regulations, environmental factors, and a lack of skilled labor, to name but a few. As a result, the materials are frequently modified, or combined with industrial products, to make them more suitable for current applications. In some instances such adaptations might standardize material

behavior or improve certain physical properties, such as moisture resistance, as is the case when cement is added to rammed earth or when bamboo undergoes lamination. However, the imposition of modern technologies and processes can also eliminate important attributes and characteristics. The most compelling integration of ‘old’ and ‘new’ technologies occurs when a material’s inherent properties are well understood and fully utilized from a technical as a well as cultural standpoint. Combining traditional and contemporary methods is not new. Even Le Corbusier, one of the most prominent figures of the modern movement in architecture, experimented with hybrid construction techniques that integrated industrial with non-industrial materials such as straw and earth. In Towards a New Architecture of 1923, Le Corbusier argues “natural materials, which are innately variable in composition, must be replaced by fixed ones.”5 The architect fluctuated, however, between a desire for the predictability offered by standardization and mass production and an enthusiasm for natural, locally sourced materials.6 Evidence of this vacillation can be seen at the Weißenhofsiedlung in Stuttgart, where Le Corbusier and Pierre Jeanneret used reeds as permanent formwork for constructing the insulated concrete slabs of Houses 14 and 15 (1927).7 The architects also experimented with lightweight, natural materials as a means of enclosure for steel and reinforced concrete structures. Compressed straw and cement rendered panels were installed over the concrete framework of the Pavillon de l’Esprit Nouveau (constructed in 1925) and were also intended for use in covering the steel structure of the Maison Sec (proposed 1929). Le Corbusier’s earlier use of traditional materials occurred mostly in response to economic constraints: he disguised the qualities of the natural materials by covering them with cement plaster, thus limiting their role in shaping the buildings spatially. Later, Le Corbusier combined traditional and contemporary technologies in more obvious ways, in his design for the Maison de Weekend in La Celle-Saint-Cloud (1934) and in his proposal for refugee housing, Maisons Murondins (1940). Both projects demonstrate a more conscientious use of local materials and manual craft, with natural materials taking on a deeper significance. Architectural historian Mary McLeod attributes Le Corbusier’s shift in sensibility to his disenchantment with both government and industry after the stock market crash of 1929: “Just

as the rational, geometric forms of the twenties were a manifestation of his faith in technology and American systems of Scientific Management, the rustic, more primitive works of the thirties were a rejection of the supremacy of this selfsame viewpoint.”8 In Maisons Murondins, Le Corbusier specified pisé, or rammed earth, not only for its economy and proficiency in regulating temperature but also for its potential to relate the buildings to the landscape and to the earth. Of this Le Corbusier writes, “Life in these pisé buildings can have great dignity and regain for man in the machine age a sense of fundamental human and natural resources.”9 Le Corbusier’s reasons for incorporating traditional materials into his buildings were pragmatic, and yet their inclusion also portrays a desire to evoke symbolic connections to culture and place.10 Le Corbusier’s hybrid approach, combining the ‘variable’ with the ‘fixed,’ is an important precursor to much of the work discussed in this book, highlighting as it does some of the motivations that inspire contemporary architects and designers to use these same materials in their own projects. This book serves a dual purpose. As a materials reference book, it provides essential information about the history, properties, and traditional applications of common plant-based and geological materials. This can be found in Part I, Material Fundamentals. The second, and arguably more central, intention of this volume is to offer a critical analysis of traditional building practices today. Part II, Material Strategies, serves this purpose by examining the materials and methods through the lens of the contemporary conditions driving their development in recent years. Diverse economic, social, environmental, and cultural conditions (and often a combination of these) have compelled architects, engineers, and other professionals to return once again to older, more direct forms of construction. It is clear, however, that no place or practice has remained ‘pure’ or can be disentangled from external forces. Each case study in the Material Strategies part represents a particular intersection between what could be identified as ‘tradition’ and outside influences attributed to globalization. Tradition and contemporary development need not be seen as diametrically opposed to one another. In the past, tradition has often been perceived as a foil to the modern and used to frame and define ‘the other’—that is, the undeveloped, the rural, and at times, the non-

Introduction: Building from Tradition

3

Western. In this light, tradition was viewed as conservative, backward-looking, and fixed in place and time, its perceived rootedness and immutability offering a means for preserving the ‘authentic’ in a changing, modern world. When examining a majority of the projects featured in this book, the (re)introduction of traditional building practices does not necessarily insure their absolute authenticity or continuity with the past. Instead, tradition is liminal—continually calibrating to a set of rapidly changing circumstances and values. From this perspective, it is useful to reevaluate the original meaning of the word tradition: actions related to communication or knowledge transmission. In the transfer of ideas from one place to another, from one individual to the next, changes were inevitable and processes were modified along the way. Even though the ‘traditional’ in most of the case studies has been introduced through a synthetic process, the projects facilitated communication and knowledge transfer—among individuals and between people and matter. In all cases, something new emerged from this dialog, which defies classification as either traditional or contemporary. Perhaps these examples present a way forward for traditional materials and methods, or conversely, stand to critique their position within a globalized society. Regardless of the outcome, it is clear that the speed of their evolution is accelerating. Newer technologies have been integrated with traditional applications to form hybrid systems able to fulfill the contemporary requirements of efficiency and stability. Whether or not these ‘traditional transformations’ will be accepted and adopted for the long term still remains to be seen, but what is certain is that they are progressive, forward looking, and worthy of our study.

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Introduction: Building from Tradition

Notes 1 David Leatherbarrow, The Roots of Architectural Invention: Site, Enclosure, Materials (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 159. 2 Kenneth Geiser, Materials Matter: Toward a Sustainable Materials Policy (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2001), 259. 3 Ulrich Röhlen and Christof Ziegert, LehmbauPraxis, Planung und Ausführung (Berlin: Bauwerk Verlag GmbH, 2010), 190–191. 4 Geiser, Materials Matter, 4. 5 Le Corbusier, Towards a New Architecture (1931: rpt. Mineola, NY: Dover, 2009), 232. 6 Flora Samuel, Le Corbusier in Detail (Burlington, MA: Elsevier/Architectural Press, 2007), 19–20. 7 Heinz Rasch and Bodo Rasch, Wie Bauen? Materialien und Konstruktionen für industrielle Produktion (Stuttgart: Akademischer Verlag Dr. Fritz Wedekind & Co., 1928), 175. 8 Mary McLeod, “‘Architecture or Revolution’: Taylorism, Technocracy, and Social Change,” Art Journal 43, no. 2 (July 1983): 143. 9 Le Corbusier, Oeuvre Complete 1946–1952, ed. Willy Boesiger (Zurich: Editions Girsberger, 1955), 27. 10 Samuel, Le Corbusier in Detail, 32.

PART 1 MATERIAL FUNDAMENTALS Part I serves as an introduction to the most significant mineral and plant-based resources traditionally used for construction. Earth and stone are featured in Chapter 1, and Chapter 2 covers reeds and grasses, wood, and bamboo. Both chapters provide an overview of the history, properties, and recent production methods of each material, which is intended to enhance the reader’s understanding of the case studies featured in Part II of this book.

Taylor & Francis Taylor & Francis Group http:/taylorandfrancis.com

1 Geologic Materials

1.1 Mud brick ice house in Iran.

Earth Earth is an essential resource: the Urstoff, or primary matter, of human existence. In all probability, it has been endowed with more cultural significance than any other material. As the ground under our feet, it connects us with place and to geologic time. As soil, it hosts plant life and provides nourishment. In some cultures, it is even considered to be alive, instilled with the presence of deities or linked to biological processes, such as aging. It has often been used as a metaphor for new beginnings: a pure and shapeless substance ready to be molded into new forms.1 Earth’s cultural meanings are also varied. Earth has paradoxically been deemed sacred and profane, precious and common, valuable and worthless. Although it is at times associated with luxury and health, earth is frequently denigrated as a material to be used by only the poorest members of society. The stigmatization of earth has led to a decline in its acceptance as a building material, and its unreliable and ‘dirty’ image seemingly contradicts its previous significance as a solid and desirable medium for building permanent shelter.

1.2 Contemporary rammed earth house in Arizona, USA.

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Material Fundamentals

Soil, when mixed with water, was a ‘transformative technology’ during the Neolithic period. This newfound material formed the basis for sedentary living, and its malleable qualities allowed for easy transformation—a process that quite literally reshaped the landscape into some of civilization’s earliest permanent dwellings. Soil also determined the location of domesticated crops, and the material was fashioned into vessels for carrying water to the fields as well as to the building site. Soil was an important resource that changed the way people lived and interacted with their environment; as archeologist Nicole Boivin observes, “humans shaped soil, so it likely shaped them and their world.”2 Easily adapted to the needs of its occupants, the basic earthen dwelling persisted and multiplied to form larger communities and, for many civilizations, these eventually expanded to become some of the first significant urban settlements. Often these ancient cities were constructed from unfired mud bricks. According to archeological records, the earliest use of the material was in the walls of Jericho. There, mud bricks formed round houses dating from around 8000 BCE.3 Mud bricks also contributed to the growth and evolution of the ancient city of Mehrgarh in Pakistan, where

1.3 Traditional mud brick house next to contemporary concrete home in Al Huwayah, Oman.

evidence suggests they were in use as early as 7000 BCE.4 Visible examples of earthen urbanism still survive—a testament to the material’s longevity. The Ziggurat of Ur, which stands in present-day Iraq, is constructed from mud bricks and is a remnant of the Mesopotamian city founded in 4000 BCE. In Peru, adobe walls that formed the foundations of Chan Chan, a pre-Columbian city that flourished between 850 and 1470 CE, cover an area of approximately 6 square kilometers. The city of Agadez in Niger became an important trading center on the edge of the Sahara during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and many of its banco or mud brick buildings from this time are still in use today. Chan Chan, Ur, and Agadez demonstrate the global relevance and ubiquity of earthen construction for numerous societies across many eras. Composition and properties The product of erosion, soil is composed of rock that has been gradually worn down by physical, biological, and chemical processes. The type of

‘parent’ rock and the method by which it has been eroded gives soil its inherent characteristics. These inherent properties influence how soil, transformed into a building material, performs when used in construction. Feldspar erosion and the decomposition of other silicate containing minerals form the base material for clay. Despite their microscopic size (0.0001–0.004 millimeters), these particles and their associated binding properties are of central importance to the builder. Clay molecules consist of hexagonal layered sheets (lamellae) that are bound up into packets. An electrostatic charge occurring between the outer layers of these packets is primarily responsible for the cohesive capacity of the material, making clay very different from cement and other substances that depend on a chemical reaction to activate their binding properties. Clay’s binding properties are activated by water. The material swells as moisture is absorbed between the lamellae and shrinks as moisture evaporates.

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1.4 Agadez, Niger.

Soil used for construction is a mixture of clay, silt, and sand; sometimes it also contains small stones. Clay acts as the binder, while silt, sand, and stones are aggregates, which give the mixture its compressive strength. Each type of construction, be it mud brick or rammed earth, relies on varying percentages of these ingredients. Compaction is the most common method used to improve the compressive strength of the material. Beating or ramming moist soil causes the particles to vibrate, allowing them to settle into a more ordered, compact structure. Compaction is integral to rammed earth construction, which involves filling formwork with successive layers of loose soil and pounding them until they solidify. The outcome is a dense, monolithic material that is particularly well suited for exterior loadbearing walls. One drawback of earthen walls is that they are not water resistant, making them susceptible to damage from moisture and frost. Because of this, most structures constructed from earth are typically plastered or protected by a wide roof overhang, in addition to being raised off the ground on a dampproof foundation. Earth’s thermal storage capacity, however, is significant and has been exploited for

10

Material Fundamentals

centuries. Massive earthen construction provides a buffer against outdoor temperature fluctuations; its capacity to absorb, store, and radiate heat allows it to temper the indoor ambient environment. Earth walls keep rooms cool in summer and warm in winter. They can also maintain comfortable indoor humidity levels. The clay minerals present in the material are hygroscopic, absorbing and releasing moisture as it fluctuates with internal activities and external weather conditions. The moisture absorbed can also enhance the material’s heat storage capacity. Traditional methods Earth construction technology advanced at different rates and at different times, and the selection of earth as a building material can be attributed to particular climate variations and the availability of certain resources. Earth-based construction was most prevalent in areas where other resources were scarce, and practices were adjusted to respond to diverse weather conditions and the availability of water. Water is essential for the production of mud bricks, just as rainless periods are necessary for drying the material.

1.5 Rammed earth construction. Both of these factors limit where bricks can be produced, making this technique more common to river deltas in arid regions. Rammed earth construction, by contrast, depends on damp soil excavated straight from the ground and typically requires little or no additional water. This technique was not limited by humid weather conditions, and can therefore be found across a wider range of climatic and geographic zones. When used as a building material, earth presents several challenges. Mud tends to crack when drying, and the spanning capacity of the material is limited due to its low tensile strength. While the plasticity of the material can be useful, it can also slow construction. To overcome these deficiencies, builders often added other locally available materials to either strengthen or work in tandem with earth. In order to prevent cracking, straw was frequently incorporated as reinforcement, and certain substances, such as plant extracts, naturally occurring bitumen, lime, and animal blood, were all found to improve the durability and water resistance of earth construction. Roofs and wall openings were

spanned with wood or bamboo elements, when available, and in cases where these resources were scarce, earth masonry vaults and arches were formed as an alternative. To systematize and streamline earthen construction, builders also employed other materials as formwork. Forms for making bricks, typically made either from wood or bundled reeds, required a minimal amount of material. More substantial formwork was necessary for rammed earth construction, necessitating greater quantities of wood. Archeological evidence confirms that almost every type of soil has been used for building. Some soils, however, proved more suitable for construction than others. These were either sourced directly or combined with other soils to achieve desirable characteristics for building. As with concrete, soil used for construction combines aggregate of various sizes (gravel, sand, and silt) with a binder (clay). The proportion of these elements varies widely, but too much or too little of one or the other directly affects the quality of the final structure. A high percentage of sand yields

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1.6 Making mud bricks. strong but erosion-prone walls, whereas a large proportion of clay results in a weaker but more water-resistant structure.5 Although early builders most likely did not have a full understanding of the mechanical properties associated with these proportions, they were still able to determine a soil’s suitability for building by utilizing simple evaluation techniques. One such method involved dropping a ball of damp, compacted soil onto the ground from waist height. If the ball shattered, the material in question did not contain enough clay. If it flattened into a disk, more sand needed to be added to the mix. The builder knew the soil was ideal if the ball held its form after hitting the ground. Ultimately, these rudimentary field tests were augmented by experience and observation to become the traditional methods relied upon for predicting a soil’s long-term durability and performance as a building material. Recent developments Today engineers study soil composition at the microscopic level, and it is at this scale that the

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Material Fundamentals

material’s constituent particles and properties are best understood. Our improved ability to accurately determine the specific amount, type, and binding capacity of clay has contributed to the overall advancement of earth construction technology. Laboratory testing assures the predictability of material behavior, and this understanding has formed the basis for modern standardization. The most comprehensive set of regulations for earth construction established to date are the Lehmbau Regeln, which were developed in Germany and adopted in 1998. These codes are based on established norms for testing—both in the field and in the laboratory—that assess the binding strength, plasticity, and mineral composition of soil and ultimately determine whether or not the material is suitable for construction.6 Worth noting is that the addition of cement, considered by some experts as essential to modern earth construction, is not mentioned in the Lehmbau Regeln. This omission points to divergent views regarding appropriate methods for soil stabilization. The modification of soil

properties—often through the addition of chemical binding agents—is frequently used to stabilize the material; that is, to improve its strength, durability, and resistance to moisture. Portland cement, nonhydraulic lime, and emulsified asphalt are the most commonly used inorganic binders in contemporary earth construction. Earth building codes in several countries, including the United States and New Zealand, require cement stabilization. The German code, however, is based on a different set of criteria. Earth used for construction is subjected to a careful process of analysis and selection in order to take advantage of the material’s inherent mechanical properties. In most cases, the addition of a chemical binding agent is only necessary when the material will be directly exposed to water, the structure is located in a seismic zone, or if the design calls for a thin wall profile. Cement stabilization comes with disadvantages. Stabilized buildings cannot be easily demolished and recycled, and the cost is often prohibitive. Additionally, the mining of raw materials for cement and the intense energy demands required for its production negatively impact the natural environment. By focusing technical expertise on avoiding the need for stabilization, the German code works to minimize the impact of earth-based construction on the environment. To the growing body of knowledge about soil’s strength and durability, engineers have added information regarding other properties. Until recently, only steady-state heat gain/loss models were used to measure the thermal resistance/ conductivity of earthen construction, for example. Contrary to popular belief, research now shows that earth walls are not highly insulative on their own, and the U- or R-value does not adequately describe the thermal behavior of the material. More complex models have now been developed that consider the material’s hygrothermal properties, measuring the absorption, storage, and release of both heat and moisture.7 Studies have also shown that earth’s sorbtive properties can have a positive effect on indoor air quality, by not only drawing in excess humidity but also by absorbing odors and pollutants.8 These qualities make earth-based materials very attractive in regions where indoor air quality has suffered as energy codes mandate increasingly impermeable building envelopes. In recent years research has also revealed that combining the thermal storage capacity of earth with radiant hydronic systems can provide a very effective means of heating and cooling.9 For Haus

Rauch [6.3] in Austria, for example, hot water from the solar collector on the roof is gravity-fed through tubes installed on the interior face of the home’s rammed earth walls, which are covered with a layer of earth plaster. The walls retain and gradually radiate the warmth over time; heat stored in the rammed earth floor and oven augment this system. Roswag & Jankowski Architekten proposed a similar system for the restoration of the Jahili Fort in Al Ain [5.2]. While earthen walls some 90 centimeters thick protect the fort, their mass alone cannot keep the interior spaces cool in the scorching heat of the Arabian Peninsula, which sometimes reaches temperatures of 50 degrees Celsius. After careful restoration of the walls, a hydronic cooling system was installed and covered with reconstituted plaster made from existing materials from the building. In addition, an earth-to-air heat exchanger uses the constant temperature of the ground to pre-cool outside air, which is then tempered and delivered to the interior spaces. In the Rauch House and the Jahili Fort, earth’s thermal storage capacity works together with mechanical systems to create a comfortable environment in two very different climates. As the properties of earth have become more widely understood and exploited in contemporary construction, progress has also been made to overcome the material’s weaknesses and to improve the efficiency of production and construction. Many of these developments address issues particular to specific earth building techniques. Three of these techniques are described here and their advances are summarized. Rammed earth: In the process of creating rammed earth buildings, a section of formwork is erected and filled with soil, which is then compacted by hand in successive layers to form a solid wall. After the wall is complete, the formwork is moved, and the process repeated to construct another section of the structure. Traditionally, compaction, together with the binding action of the clay minerals present in the material, provided necessary stabilization, but as described previously, cement has been added in modern times to increase rammed earth’s durability and strength. More recently, the addition of concrete elements such as ring beams and lintels has also expanded the material’s structural capacity. Efforts to meet contemporary standards without the use of cement have also gained

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1.7 Compacting earth with pneumatic backfill tamper. momentum through the addition other materials. Engineers have discovered that geotextiles embedded during construction provide additional strength and help to prevent cracking. Natural fiber additives such as flax have also been used to increase durability.10 In addition, several advances have improved and accelerated the process of rammed earth construction. Pneumatic backfill tampers have replaced hand tampers, machinery now delivers material to the formwork, and the formwork itself has been modified to allow for larger areas to be built concurrently. There are also a few but growing number of cases where prefabrication has been used to simplify and expedite the process of rammed earth construction [3.6]. Cob: The simplest form of earth construction, cob, is one of the most ubiquitous in the world. The term cob is said to stem from the Old English word for lump or loaf, the primary unit of this technique. In cob building, a mixture of damp soil and straw is piled up in layers to form a wall.

14

Material Fundamentals

Each layer is beaten to compact the material and then trimmed into shape with the edge of a spade. Since cob construction does not utilize formwork and requires very simple tools, it could be considered a very primitive construction method by today’s standards, but its low-tech aspects

1.8 Cob combined with light wood frame construction.

1.9 Making compressed earth blocks.

make it appealing, especially for do-it-yourself homebuilders. It is easily combined with wood frame construction, and the addition of features such as vapor retarders and insulation have improved the overall durability and performance of contemporary cob buildings. Unfired earth masonry: Mud brick, or adobe, was traditionally formed by hand or with a frame made from natural materials. The soil typically contained more clay than that used in rammed earth or cob construction, and straw or grass was often added to prevent cracking. After the bricks are dried, they were laid to form a wall using mortar of roughly the same composition as the bricks. The contemporary version of mud bricks— unfired earth masonry—can take several forms. In some industrialized countries, such as the

United Kingdom and Germany, the material is mass-produced; standardization has increased its reliability and consistency.11 Another modern descendant of mud brick is the compressed earth block (CEB). Modern CEB was developed in the 1950s to address the lack of predictability and durability of mud brick construction, which requires many modifications to withstand moisture and conform to contemporary seismic codes.12 CEBs are made by combining soil with cement (typically 4 percent to 8 percent); the mixture is then compressed with a manual or mechanical hydraulic press to form a solid block, which can withstand moisture better than a typical mud brick without render. Other significant developments include manufactured building products made of earth.

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Wallboard made from a mixture of clay, reeds, and jute fiber has been on the market in Germany for several years. These boards offer the indoor climate regulating benefits of massive earth construction but can be used in contemporary wood- or steelframed systems. Some manufacturers offer boards with integrated tubes for radiant heating, and a few offer products featuring voids that permit warm air to flow through the material. As the demand for sustainable building materials grows in industrialized countries, more earth-based products will no doubt come on the market. Testing and standardization mark the new era of earth construction. Mass production techniques and modern distribution networks raise the possibility of a shift away from local sourcing and construction to global production and use. Future developments will partly depend on how successfully manufacturers can standardize and commodify a material that was once—and in some places is still—stigmatized as unreliable and relatively worthless. Massproduced elements such as compressed earth

1.10 Massive dry stone wall at Machu Picchu, Peru.

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Material Fundamentals

blocks and prefabricated panels have introduced predictability and efficiency, but it remains to be seen if the process of industrialization will completely transform earth’s identity from a handcrafted material to a conventional building product.

Stone Stones are evidence of geological time. They have seemingly always been in existence and will endure long after our lifetime. Massive stone, once valued for its permanence and stability, served as a primary building material for many cultures. Using stone for construction required a great deal of physical labor, either for gathering loose rocks or for cutting and lifting blocks free from the ground; transporting the material also demanded considerable effort and expense. Over time, more efficient processing methods were developed, and less material was required for construction.

Dimensionally accurate ashlar masonry replaced rough-hewn walls, and with the rise of concrete and steel frame construction in the nineteenth century, stone was redefined as a decorative veneer. Today, stone continues to be a popular option for cladding, and has almost entirely lost its value as a loadbearing material. Some archeologists view early stone tool technology not only as evidence of human development but also as a major evolutionary catalyst. Hominoids shaped stone, and the material, in turn, gradually influenced anatomical and genetic adaptations.13 For many cultures, the boundary between human and stone was a liminal one; aborigines, for example, considered stone to be deposits of blood, or the internal organs left by ancestral beings.14 According to Chinese oral tradition, stone was alive and bestowed with qi, a life force emanating from the earth.15 The belief that stone was host to ‘living’ entities has been continually reinforced throughout the centuries— from Classical antiquity to the modern era—leading sculptors to work, in one way or another, to liberate the human figure hidden within the solidified material. Beyond these metaphysical forces, the material’s fundamental mechanical properties, such as strength and durability, have made it useful for many practical applications. Early civilizations employed stones for marking significant locations on the landscape, such as places of worship and graves. The earliest known freestanding stone structure of this kind, Göbekli Tepe in Turkey, dates from around 9000 BCE. Excavations have unearthed several ringed clusters of large, monolithic slabs of limestone built over an area of about 90,000 square meters. Archeologists are fairly certain the stone circles marked burial sites and that their placement could have only been achieved by a massive, organized effort, requiring cooperation between hundreds of people.16 Such large-scale infrastructure projects stimulated local development by marshaling human labor and physical resources. The same is true of the pyramids built by thousands of workers in Egypt’s Nile Delta. The Pyramid of King Djoser, built during his reign between 2630 and 2611 BCE, marked an important shift away from the use of mud brick to stone construction. After this monument was erected, locally sourced limestone and granite became the preferred materials for important structures such as temples and tombs, which often

1.11 “The Slave” by Michelangelo.

took the form of large pyramids. Tombs especially were regarded as places of transformation for the king, marking the location where he would leave the physical world of the living and ascend into the afterlife. The immutability of stone became an important part of this process as it assured the king’s immortality.17 Stone gained even greater significance as a tool for marking territory during the Roman Empire, when the permanence and durability of the material propelled numerous important developments. In order to delineate landownership, the Romans constructed stone walls—fragments of which can still be found along the empire’s most distant boundaries, in Germany and Great Britain. They also created an extensive system of paved stone roads to facilitate the movement of armies and flow of goods. With roads came the necessity of measuring distance, and the Roman milestone system—a series of stone obelisks, called milliaria, placed at fixed increments—came into being. Probably the most enduring example

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of the empire’s stone-cutting expertise, however, is its massive aqueducts, many of which remain in use today. As with earlier civilizations, here stone-cutting technology, when combined with social organization, gave rise to large-scale infrastructure.18 Classification and architectural uses Stone has a high compressive strength but is about ten to thirty times weaker in tension.19 The strength and workability of a particular stone is determined by several factors including its hardness, grain type, and porosity—all of which are the outcome of specific geological processes. Rocks are classified according to the geological forces that formed them. They fall into three categories: igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic. Through trial and error, specific types of stone from each group have been found to be suitable for particular architectural applications. Igneous rock: Igneous begins as molten magma deep below the earth’s surface. As the silicate mixture rises and cools, it crystallizes to form a solid material. The predominant characteristics of igneous rock are determined both by the depth at which the magma forms and the time it takes to cool. Magma that solidifies deep below the earth’s surface over a long period of time (millions of years) is called plutonic or intrusive igneous. This slow process of solidification results in a coarse-grained crystalline structure, which can be observed in granite. Extrusive igneous is the result of volcanic eruptions. It is formed by lava that collects on or close to the earth’s upper mantel. Extrusive igneous cools more quickly, resulting in a finegrained, glassy structure. Granite is generally the most typical type of igneous rock used in architectural applications, due to its durability and wide availability. It has commonly been employed both as ashlar masonry and as a covering in areas subject to high use or weathering. Other varieties of intrusive igneous rocks include diorite and gabbro. Igneous rocks of the extrusive kind, including basalt and porphyry, were traditionally used for flooring and pavers as well as carved decorations. Sedimentary rock: An accumulation of mineral particles that have been released into the environment through the actions of water, wind, or erosion caused by weathering, forms the basis of sedimentary rocks. These sediments are deposited

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Material Fundamentals

in layers, and over time they become ‘cemented’ together to form solid stone. Sedimentary rocks are further classified by their mineral composition and method of formation. The most ubiquitous sedimentary rock, sandstone, is composed of quartz or feldspar minerals that are bound together by calcium carbonate, iron oxides, or silica. Sandstone is durable and frost resistant, and is often used for ashlar masonry. Its low resistance to abrasion makes it ideal for sculpted elements. Limestone was also traditionally used for ashlar masonry but is now more commonly used as façade cladding. It is composed of calcium carbonate resulting from the accumulation of shells and other skeletal fragments of marine organisms. Limestone is incorporated into construction in another significant way; it is the main ingredient in lime-based cement and mortar. Metamorphic rock: Sedimentary or igneous rocks that have undergone an additional transformation caused either by physical or chemical processes are classified as metamorphic. Increased temperature, pressure, or tectonic movements work over millions of years to transform the rock by altering its structure; during this process, recrystallization and new minerals can also form. Slate is a metamorphic rock formed from sedimentary shale. It has long been used as a durable roofing material. Marble is another commonly used metamorphic stone. It is composed of recrystallized carbonate minerals (limestone) formed under intense pressure and heat. Marble is often selected for its decorative patterning or color, for use as both an interior finish and exterior cladding. Traditional methods Initially, builders collected loose stones from rocky outcroppings or riverbanks for use in construction. In the Bronze Age, around 3000 BCE, they introduced metal tools for stone extraction. During the erection of the pyramids in Egypt, even more sophisticated methods for cutting and excavating appeared. Wooden wedges were driven into bedrock, soaked with water, and allowed to swell, causing the stone to fracture into smaller pieces. Laborers then cut these pieces into blocks using handsaws and chisels. Many of the same quarries used by the Egyptians were later exploited by the Romans, who absorbed them into a large network extending throughout the empire, all the way to Germany.

1.12 Granite cobble stones.

1.14 Marble flooring.

Roman builders used saws, drills, and other tools that were impregnated with diamonds to cut stone and they also perfected methods for quarrying, lifting, and transporting large blocks of the material.20 With the fall of the empire around 400 CE, many of these techniques vanished for several centuries. Diamond stone-cutting technology was later rediscovered during the mid-1800s by Swiss watchmaker George August Leschot, who subsequently developed and patented the antecedent of the modern-day diamond-tipped punch rotary drill.21

1.13 Limestone wall.

Stone masonry can either be laid dry, without mortar, or wet, using mortar made of earth, sand and lime, or cement. Dry stone masonry was traditionally used to construct a variety of structures, including dwellings, storage buildings, bridges, retaining walls, and fences. Large-scale use of the technique can also be observed in the sacred structures of the Incas, which were built from massive stones, precisely hewn and tightly fitted to form mortarless walls. Dry construction allows for expansion and contraction of the material, and the stones can easily be reused after the structure reaches the end of its useful life. When constructing a wall without mortar, the stonemason must rely on the weight of the stones and the friction between them to stabilize the structure. The skilled mason positions stones to lie as flat as possible within the wall, leaving few gaps in between. A final, ‘capstone’ layer is often added to the top of the wall, which bonds and protects the structure below. Stonemasons relied most frequently on wet construction, and early examples built using this method exist on every continent.22 Using mortar brings advantages: filling the void between stones allows walls to become thinner and structures to become watertight. Builders employed mud and clay as the earliest binding agents for both mud brick and stone construction. Workers used gypsum mortar to hold stone in place while building the pyramids. Later, during the Roman Empire, lime became the most commonly used ingredient for making mortar. Workers produced lime by burning limestone (calcium carbonate) in a kiln at high temperatures to convert it to quicklime.

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They then added water and sand to produce a workable mortar. Lime-based mortars were found to be very compatible with stone masonry because they remained pliable over long periods, allowing the structure to shift and move over time. The use of lime mortar fell out of favor at the end of the eighteenth century, with the introduction of cementbased materials. Stone walls can be constructed by several different methods. The type, shape, size, and quantity of the stone, as well as the tools employed to work the material, determine the wall’s form. Stone laying patterns commonly used in traditional buildings include the following: Irregular stone walls: Walls made of randomly shaped, minimally dressed (worked) stone; often sourced near the construction site. Stones must be carefully selected and laid to fit precisely, to insure the stability of the structure. The term ‘cyclopean’ is sometimes used to describe irregular walls made of unusually large stones.

Emplecton or filled: Walls clad on the exterior surfaces with valuable stone and filled on the interior with rubble or earth. Emplecton walls can be built using both wet and dry masonry construction methods. The technique allows for the very efficient use of scarce or valuable resources (as cladding) without compromising the thickness and stability of the structure.23 Traditionally, openings in walls were achieved by using arches or stone lintels. Spanning between walls to create a roof was most often accomplished with a hybrid structure of wood beams covered with stone tiles. Roofs using only stone and no mortar were constructed by corbeling, a technique of staggering successive layers of stone until the sides of the structure converge at the top, thus creating a conical or domed form.

Rough-hewn or stratified walls: Walls made of stones that are shaped to form roughly rectangular or block-shaped units. The stones are often irregular in size but are laid to form relatively consistent horizontal joints. Vertical joints are staggered to insure structural stability. Opus quadratum or squared ashlar: Walls made of stones, often sourced from quarries, that have been precisely hewn into orthogonally shaped blocks. Cutting stone with greater precision allows the material to be used more efficiently. It also simplifies the construction process and improves the overall stability of the structure.

1.15 Irregular stone wall.

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Material Fundamentals

1.16 Stratified wall.

1.17 Squared ashlar wall.

1.18 Emplecton wall.

Recent developments Many of the operations for extracting stone have been mechanized, but the fundamental principles have not varied much since Roman times. To remove dimensional sections of stone from the quarry wall, workers use diamond wire cables and drills. Deep holes are bored vertically into bedrock at intervals, and a horizontal cut is made at the base of the section with a large saw on rails. A steel cable is then guided into the holes and drawn out through the horizontal slot at the base of the block. The section is cut from the face of the deposit by mechanically drawing the cable through the stone. With the help of hydraulic jacks, workers maneuver the block onto a pile of earth and gravel, which helps to cushion the fall. The stone is then progressively cut into smaller blocks using diamond wire saws or drills. Contemporary stone extraction and production has grown into a global industry, with Europe and Asia emerging as its largest producers. Importing low-cost stone from China has become commonplace in many countries, especially the

1.19 Corbeled roof.

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1.20 Massive stone exterior of the Druk White Lotus School. United States.24 Although most natural stone is used today as a thin veneer, the desire to present the material in its original form continues unabated. The archetype of the rough-hewn stone house persists, regularly appearing in architecture and design magazines and online. Society still gravitates toward the image of permanence and honesty that these structures represent. Behind every rocky edifice, however, is a core of loadbearing concrete, reflecting the contemporary separation between material representation and performance. The practice of covering coarse, less valuable, or less durable materials with a layer of stone is not new; it can be traced back as far as the Egyptian pyramids. But in most contemporary construction, stone cladding is redundant and almost unnecessary, even as a protective layer. In industrialized countries, stone is rarely used structurally (except in the cases of building renovation) and is most often employed as floor coverings and façades.

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Material Fundamentals

Stone is still used for loadbearing construction in some parts of the world, however; mostly where strong masonry traditions have endured. As in the past, necessity drives demand, and in many regions, local stone is often the only viable option available for building. It was necessity that drove Arup, the architects of the Druk White Lotus School in Ladakh, to use local stone for constructing the walls of its building. Most structures in this area of India are built with mud brick, a material that does not always perform well in the harsh climate of the Himalayas. The stone foundations of local monasteries provide an important exception. The architects opted to combine materials, constructing an inner layer of mud brick for insulation and outer layer of stone for protection. The super-insulated walls form a protective enclosure that regulates indoor temperatures and resists seismic forces. Stone can also replace more costly, manufactured products or reduce the amount required for building. In Afghanistan, reconstruction

1.21 Massive stone foundations of the Gohar Khatoon Girls’ School. has dramatically increased the demand for cement, but supply remains inconsistent; both inclement weather and conflict on the border influence the material’s availability and price. As a result, cyclopean masonry is sometimes used to replace certain components in reinforced concrete buildings, such as foundations and infill walls.25 This can be seen in the Gohar Khatoon Girls’ School, where large stones form portions of the building’s footings. Monolithic stone construction has seen a modest revival in France, where a simple wine cellar in Vauvert, designed by Gilles Perraudin in 1998, altered the way many French architects viewed the material and encouraged its use for constructing several other wineries. Stone’s low embodied energy complements the shift toward more sustainable winemaking, and also eliminates the need for mechanical cooling by insuring even storage temperatures throughout the year. In addition, building with solid stone provides a chemical-free environment for aging, and this in turn has a positive influence on a wine’s taste.

Perraudin Architectes have since specified massive stone for several projects, and their work has inspired other architects in the region to use the material in a wide range of building types, from schools to housing to hospitals. Massive stone construction can be more cost-effective in some areas of France, where quarries are located close to the construction site—in some cases, even proving to be less expensive than reinforced concrete. This led architects Denis Eliet and Laurent Lehmann to consider monolithic stone as a viable option for social housing in Bry-sur-Marne [5.4]. Advances in monolithic stone construction have come in the area of thermal performance. Solid stone masonry already performs several functions—enclosure, structure, and environmental control—but in some applications, it is necessary to include insulation and heating elements, which often add an additional layer to the assembly. The French stone quarrying and cutting company Occitanie Pierres has recently developed two masonry systems that accommodate these layers.

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The solid ashlars of the Thermo Pierre are hollowed out and fitted with cork insulation, whereas the interlocking stone blocks of the Alveo Pierre (now patented and on the market) are incised with a honeycomb structure that allows for a seamless integration with hydronic heating systems.26 In both cases the thermal properties of stone are augmented without compromising the structural integrity of the material. Monolithic construction not only capitalizes on the aesthetics of stone, it also utilizes the full structural, economic, and environmental potential of the material. This method will likely continue in regions where stone quarries are still active and stonemasons persist in practicing their craft. Its future is limited, but interesting nonetheless. The use of stone veneer, on the other hand, has achieved global proportions due to our enhanced ability to transport the material. Stone veneer is omnipresent in almost every major city around the globe. And yet each piece of stone is still unique— signs of the geological processes that once formed it are still apparent if one looks closely enough. Despite being highly processed and far removed from its origins, stone continues to be valued as a natural material.

Notes 1 Monica Wagner, Das Material der Kunst: Eine andere Geschichte der Moderne (Munich: C. H. Beck, 2001), 111. 2 Nicole Boivin, Material Cultures, Material Minds: The Impact of Things on Human Thought, Society, and Evolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 6. 3 George R. H. Wright, Ancient Building in South Syria and Palestine (Boston, MA: E. J. Brill, 1985), 351. 4 Peter Bellwood, The Global Prehistory of Human Migration (Chichester: Wiley Blackwell, 2014), 246. 5 Paul Graham McHenry Jr., Adobe and Rammed Earth Buildings: Design and Construction (New York: Wiley, 1984), 48–51. 6 Dachverband Lehm e.V., Lehmbau Regeln: Begriffe, Baustoffe, Bauteile (Wiesbaden: Vieweg+Teubner, 2009).

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7 Hygrothermal refers to the movement of heat and moisture through a material. 8 Sorption is the process through which one substance takes up or holds another; Wulf Eckermann, Ulrich Röhlen, Helmuth Venzmer, and Christoph Ziegert, Zum Einfluss von Lehmbaustoffen auf die Raumluftfeuchte (Berlin: Beuth Verlag, 2008), 3. 9 Hydronic systems are used to heat or cool buildings by circulating liquid through radiators or radiant tubing installed into walls, floors, and ceilings. 10 Ulrich Röhlen and Christoph Ziegert, Lehmbau-Praxis: Planung und Ausführung (Berlin: Bauwerk, 2010), 166. 11 Tom Morton, Earth Masonry: Design and Guidelines (Bracknell, Berks: Information Handling Services Building Research Establishment Press, 2008). 12 The French architect François Cointeraux (1740–1830) developed an early form of compressed earth masonry, which was based on the traditional French method of rammed earth construction called pisé de terre. Bricks produced with Cointeraux’s method relied on naturally occurring clay for stabilization. For more information see Paula Young Lee, “Pisé and the Peasantry: François Cointeraux and the Rhetoric of Rural Housing in Revolutionary Paris,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 67, no. 1 (March 2008): 58. 13 Boivin, Material Cultures, Material Minds, 190–196. 14 Adam Brumm, “An Axe to Grind: Symbolic Considerations of Stone Axe Use in Ancient Australia,” in Soils, Stones and Symbols: Cultural Perceptions of the Mineral World, ed. Nicole Boivin and Mary Ann Owoc (London: UCL, 2004), 147. 15 Carolyn Dean, A Culture of Stone: Inka Perspectives on Rock (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2007), 7. 16 Mark Jarzombek, Architecture of First Societies: A Global Perspective (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley, 2013), 258. 17 Mark Lehner, The Complete Pyramids (London: Thames and Hudson, 1997), 35.

18 Stiftung Umwelteinsatz Schweiz, Trockenmauern: Grundlagen, Bauanleitung, Bedeutung (Bern: Haupt Verlag, 2014), 69. 19 Siegfried Siegesmund and Rolf Snethlage, eds., introduction to Stone in Architecture: Properties, Durability (Berlin: Springer, 2011), 3. 20 Norman Davey, A History of Building Materials (London: Phoenix House, 1961), 15–16. 21 Ibid., 59. 22 Marcel Vellinga, Paul Oliver, and Alexander Bridge, Atlas of Vernacular Architecture of the World (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2007), 48–49. 23 Alfonso Acocella, Stone Architecture: Ancient and Modern Construction Skills (Lucca, Italy: Lucense, 2006), 69. 24 Siegfried Siegesmund and Ákos Török, “Building Stones,” in Stone in Architecture, ed. Siegesmund and Snethlage, 11. 25 Cyclopean masonry traditionally relied on extremely large stones laid without mortar. More contemporary versions of this practice use cement mortar. 26 J. L. Bertrand, Procédé de fabrication d’un bloc de construction isolant alvéolé en pierre naturelle ou reconstituée, bloc realise et mur realise avec un tel bloc. French Republic Patent 1301912, filed August 11, 2013, and issued February 12, 2015.

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Taylor & Francis Taylor & Francis Group http:/taylorandfrancis.com

2 Plant Materials

2.1 Traditional Japanese minka house in Japan.

Reeds and Grasses Our current understanding of building materials as durable or resistant is challenged by the ephemeral nature of plants. Relying on reeds or grasses for contemporary construction would, at first glance, seem to be a backward-looking experiment doomed to failure. Plant fibers are fragile, susceptible to decay, and weak, especially when used on their own. And yet for some cultures, their use, as historian Kenneth Frampton reminds us, embodies the “cyclical renewal of the eternal present.”1 Just as plants persist through seasonal cycles of growth and decomposition, structures made from reeds and grasses have achieved longevity through building practices that follow a reoccurring pattern of restoration and replacement. Reeds and grasses are universal materials; they grow almost everywhere. Nevertheless, each species is distinct and regionally specific. Reed and grass structures share these qualities of ubiquity and specificity; thatched roofs, for example, can

be found on almost every continent, although the roofing material itself changes based on what is locally available. Weaving and binding were the first methods employed to shape plants into shelter. Builders quickly learned that the materials performed better structurally, lasted longer, and were more resistant to fire and insects when woven, bundled, or combined with other materials. But while these techniques might extend a building’s survival, reeds and grasses are still much more susceptible to decay than other building materials; as a result little physical evidence of their early use remains. Due to their abundance and considerable range of availability, however, it is assumed that they were widely used for construction. By comparing ancient representations with more recent building practices, archeologists have inferred that reeds and grasses were often used in roofing—as a woven infill material plastered with mud—in Palestine and Egypt around 3000 BCE and even earlier.2 Some connections have also been made between ancient Egyptian stone

2.2 Reed structure built by the Al Shakamra tribe in Al Kuthra, Iraq.

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Material Fundamentals

temples, which some believe were modeled after earlier, Predynastic dwellings constructed from bundled papyrus reeds. Assyrian and Babylonian carvings also depict structures made from stout reed bundles tied together at the top to form a series of arched ribs. The ribs were connected and stabilized horizontally by a series of thinner reed bundles and then covered with woven reed matting to form a protective enclosure.3 This ancient construction method has survived to the present day in Iraq, only to now face an uncertain future. Water shortages caused by dam construction and drought threaten the wetlands where the plants are harvested and, as a result, this long tradition of building solely with reeds may be lost forever. Plant species and properties The term reed can refer to many different wetland plants from a broad range of families and genera.4 The common reed (or Phragmites australis) is part of the grass (or Poaceae) family and is frequently

2.3 Common reed.

favored for thatching because it grows in many locations. The sedge (Cyperaceae) or rush (Restionaceae) families are also used as thatching reeds, as are other species. The term grass largely refers to plants in the Poaceae family, which also includes grain-bearing crops such as wheat, barley, oats, rice, and rye, and is identified by its hollow stem. Elephant, marram, and miscanthus are just a few of the dozens of grass varieties used for construction purposes.5 Most species of reed and grass used in building construction contain large amounts of cellulose and lignin, the compounds responsible for the structure and strength of plants. Cellulose microfibrils form an important structural component of plant cell walls, while the polymer lignin acts as a binding matrix for cellulose (and other components), lending stiffness and rigidity to the plant’s overall structure. Percentages vary from species to species, but reeds and straw are generally composed of about 40 percent cellulose. Wheat straw consists of about 15 percent lignin, whereas common reed typically contains about 23 percent. Wood, by comparison, is typically composed of about 45 percent cellulose and 25 percent lignin. It is lignin’s hydrophobic properties that give thatch and other grass-based building systems their ability to shed water. Lignin is also resistant to decay; like silica, lignin helps to slow but not halt the decomposition of reed and grass building components. Its resistance to decomposition, coupled with the fact that most farm animals find straw virtually indigestible, has often led farmers to burn straw as agricultural waste. This has indirectly contributed to a resurgence of interest in straw bale construction, a building technique that offers a sustainable strategy for utilizing this abundant agricultural byproduct. The high cellulose content of reed and straw increases the materials’ hygroscopic capacity, which can be exploited to regulate moisture within a building.6 Other physical properties of reed and grass derive from the cylindrical form of their stalks. In addition to providing a high strength-toweight ratio, this form contributes to the materials’ insulation value. Trapped air inside the plant stalk not only allows the materials to retain warmth but also absorb sound. Traditional methods Early civilizations sourced reeds in regions located close to water and harvested grasses in the savannas. As they began cultivating wild grasses

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for grain production, they developed techniques for using plant stalks, or straw, for construction. Gradually these techniques were disseminated across agricultural regions. In areas where wood was scarce, the earliest shelters were built exclusively of reeds and grasses. Later, hybrid systems were developed. A timber or bamboo frame combined with woven or tightly packed grasses or reeds formed the basis for many construction techniques. In warmer climates, lightweight woven mats were hung from the frame. In cooler climates, a heavier, more enclosed adaptation of this system was developed. The sides and top of the frame were enclosed with layers of reeds or grasses and then covered with a protective layer of mud. When used for walls, this technique is sometimes called wattle and daub, but a stouter variation was also developed for roofing, which entails covering timber rafters with a layer of tightly spaced reeds and covering them with a resistant layer of clay plaster. Builders also

2.4 Earth plaster with straw.

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Material Fundamentals

found that adding straw and grasses improved the tensile strength of mud bricks and plaster, which encouraged them to frequently include straw and grasses as reinforcement, in addition to layering and weaving the materials. Thatch is likely the most common method for building with reeds and grasses that is still in use today. Thatch acts as a water-resistant enclosure and is formed by layering compact bundles of dried vegetal material over a structural framework. The basic technique for thatching is not unique to any specific country or region. For example, in Japan, archeological evidence suggests that thatch was prevalent as early as the third century and subsequently flourished as a popular roofing method for housing.7 Likewise, most early dwellings in Britain dating from the Neolithic to the late medieval period were thatched. In both cases, the method waned with the introduction of fire regulations and the development of alternative roofing materials made from ceramic or stone. Thatching materials varied from region to region, depending upon what native plants and domesticated crops grew well there: miscanthus grass and rice straw were common in Japan, whereas wheat and rye straw, as well as water reeds in some areas, were common in Britain. Workers harvested the plants, removed grain and organic debris, and then bundled the stalks into sheaves, which were allowed to dry before being used for construction. Starting at the eves, roofers would layer thatch bundles in courses and tie them to battens attached to the primary structure. If an existing thatched roof was to be re-covered, the roofers would only remove the damaged parts and the new thatch was ‘pinned’ over the old material using wooden spars or pegs.8 Once all surfaces were covered, the area most vulnerable to water penetration—the roof ridge—was covered with a protective layer of water-resistant material, such as bark and turf (Japan) or sedge plants (Britain). The roofers would then comb and beat the stalks into position and orient them to direct water flow away from ridges and openings. In order to facilitate drainage, a thatch roof should maintain a pitch of at least 45 degrees, and in areas with large amounts of snowfall they were sloped at even steeper angles. When executed properly, a thatched roof could last upwards of 80 years. Archeologists have even identified existing portions of thatch on houses in England that have survived since the 1500s.9

2.5 Roof thatch installation.

2.6 Traditional thatched roof in Japan.

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A more recently introduced method for using straw as a building material was launched in the late 1800s with the invention of the horse-powered baling machine. European settlers moving to the timber-poor Great Plains of North America first used straw bales to construct temporary shelters out of necessity. As these initial structures proved warm and durable, the practice of building homes with bales spread; however, with the expansion of the Transcontinental Railroad, and the subsequent increase in the availability of lumber, the use of straw bales for building declined. Today, several historic straw bale structures still stand in the state of Nebraska. Traditionally, straw bales functioned as loadbearing elements in construction, but methods that combined bales with other structural systems such as wood frame construction were also developed. To construct a bale structure, farmers first collected the stalks remaining after harvest and mechanically compressed them into compact, rectangular bales, which were then left to dry. After the foundation of a building was laid, workers stacked the bales along the perimeter to form the main walls of the structure. Wooden stakes were driven in at intervals to keep the bales in place.

2.7 Straw bale house ca. 1926 in Nebraska, USA.

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Workers then installed a wooden box beam or bearing plate on top of the stacked bales, which provided the connection between the walls and the roof structure. The bales were allowed to settle under the weight of the roof and then plastered. Straw bale construction is a composite system that behaves much like contemporary stressedskin panel systems.10 Structural engineers have only recently recognized that the straw bales and plaster work together: the bales carry the building’s compressive loads, while the plaster forms a ductile skin able to absorb tensile forces. The plaster also plays an important role in protecting the straw from fire, although the bales are less flammable than one might think, due in part to their density. Recent developments Building with wild and cultivated plant fiber materials today presents challenges as well as advantages. For many people, there is still no other alternative for making shelter, but even in these locations, thatched roofing is gradually being replaced by corrugated galvanized iron (CGI) sheeting. Metal roofing is often favored for its durability, ease of installation, and modern

appearance. Even in places where CGI is more expensive than indigenous materials, it is frequently the preferred material for roofing, despite the fact that it rusts quickly and provides little thermal protection for the building’s occupants.11 Compared to CGI, thatch provides a lightweight method for cooling spaces. For thatched roofs in warmer climates, the voids between plant stalks are tight enough to keep rain out and provide shade, but open enough for air currents to pass through the material. In colder climates, the material is bundled more tightly, providing an insulative layer by trapping air within the voids between the stalks. As mentioned previously, thatch materials are available almost everywhere: when a roof is damaged or is lost in a storm, sourcing new material for repairs is a simple matter. CGI, in contrast, is frequently imported and can be difficult to procure, especially after a natural disaster such as a typhoon. Despite a decrease in use, building authorities in some countries have worked to modify both thatch and straw bale systems to bring them in line with contemporary regulations. For thatched roof systems, these changes—in addition to problems stemming from environmental degradation—could have long-term consequences for the material’s performance and availability. Reed and grass thatched roofs are still common to many parts of Northern Europe and the United Kingdom, and building regulations in these countries allow and govern this practice. Contemporary energy regulations now require airtight, highly insulated building envelopes; this has altered the function of thatch as a roofing material. Traditionally thatch served not only as a layer of enclosure and insulation, it also allowed interior moisture vapor to dissipate through the roof. Thatch roofing for new buildings must be installed on the outside of the building envelope, which means the material is no longer exposed to the interior and must be held off of the roofing membrane to promote ventilation from the underside. Building regulations in Germany, for example, require 6 centimeters of airspace between the thatched roof and the building envelope. The introduction of an airspace drastically diminishes the thermal resistance of the material—so much so that it can no longer serve as a calculable layer of insulation for building.12 In addition to the challenge posed by airtight construction methods, reed for thatching has become increasingly more difficult to source locally. Pollution threatens supplies in Europe, forcing builders to look to Turkey and China for resources.

Although, as we have seen, reed and straw can last for many decades—even several hundred years—given the right conditions, environmental changes have compromised its longevity. A recent infestation of white rot mold (a fungus that destroys lignin) dramatically shortened the lifespan of newly thatched roofs in Germany, with nitrogen emissions from large-scale agriculture thought to be the cause.13 These recent complications have, for the most part, stripped the materials of their most dominant and beneficial attributes, leaving few reasons to use them other than their outward appearance. Thatch remains, however, an important part of the cultural landscape of many regions, and there are several notable examples that capitalize on this relationship. Both the Yusuhara Marche by Kengo Kuma & Associates and the Enterprise Centre at the University of East Anglia by Architype have adapted the local vocabulary of traditional

2.8 Yusuhara Marche by Kengo Kuma & Associates.

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thatch to fit the demands of contemporary cladding assemblies. The roof of the Tåkern Visitor Center by Wingårdh Arkitektkontor [5.1] draws attention to the surrounding wetlands through its innovative use of native thatch. Straw bale construction has followed a different trajectory. After its gradual decline in the United States in the early twentieth century, straw bale construction saw a rise in interest in 1973 after an essay about the technique was featured in the book Shelter.14 From the mid-1970s on, the number of straw bale buildings steadily increased across the country and many state and local governments modified their building codes in response to the trend. Erected in 1921, the first straw bale house in France was intended to set an example for postWorld War I reconstruction, but bales were not seriously considered for building in Europe until the late 1970s, after a series of straw bale construction workshops and projects captured public attention.

2.9 Contemporary straw bale construction in Utah, USA.

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Today, examples of bale buildings can be found in the Netherlands, Germany, Italy, and several other European countries.15 Regulations vary from country to country and region to region: in Germany straw bales may be used as infill but not as loadbearing elements, while in Denmark, Switzerland, and Italy loadbearing straw bale construction is permitted.16 While not completely straightforward, building with straw bales is simple enough for the layperson to master, and the method’s ‘doit-yourself’ image appeals to individuals looking for a low-cost, sustainable way to build their own home. As a result, straw bale home construction is often used as a platform for teaching others about the technique, as well as a way to marshal local volunteer labor. For this reason, straw bale construction is likened to earlier building methods that rely on community participation. The community building aspect of straw bale construction was an important part of the Common

Ground affordable housing project on Lopez Island in the United States [4.3]. There, homeowners invested ‘sweat equity’ by working with local builders to construct their future residences. The DIY nature of the material and the fact that it is available in almost every part of the world has also led to straw’s use in diverse locations. Several humanitarian aid organizations involved in relief work have turned to straw bale construction as an economical and efficient means for building large numbers of homes. The Adventist Development and Relief Agency, for example, has constructed more than 600 residences in China using this method.17 The Pakistan Straw Bale and Appropriate Building aid organization is also using straw bales to build seismically resistant housing for communities in rural Pakistan. During the last 15 years, straw bale construction in Europe has been adapted to work with massive timber systems and to meet stringent energy standards. Swiss architect Werner Schmidt has realized several projects constructed from jumbo loadbearing bales (70 cm x 120 cm x 240 cm) and cross-laminated timber (CLT) panels. Data shows that houses built with this system outperform the current MINERGIE and Passive House standards, which means these buildings do not require any additional source of mechanical heating.18 Make Architects also combined straw with CLT prefabricated elements filled with local straw and covered with plaster render to form the exterior envelope of the Gateway Building at the University of Nottingham. Based on the proprietary system developed by the company ModCell, this method has been used for constructing a wide range of building types. In 2015, the first homes constructed

with ModCell panels were sold on the open market in the United Kingdom [3.5]. The high level of insulation offered by the panels was part of the architects’ strategy to reduce the amount of energy consumed for heating the structures. When considering future applications for reed and straw in construction, straw bales paired with mass timber seems to hold the most promise. The materials for these assemblies can be sustainably grown and harvested, locally procured, and have been tested and developed to meet industry standards. These systems can be assembled into stable, highly insulated structures that are able to meet the stringent energy standards now set by many countries. Unlike the contemporary applications of thatch that mainly rely on the material’s aesthetic value, straw bale is used for pragmatic reasons. As a result, thatch will most likely continue to be used only in a few select instances, while straw could advance by conforming to mass production systems.

2.10a Prefabricated CLT and straw elements for the Gateway Building.

2.10b The Gateway Building at the University of Nottingham.

Wood In many traditional societies, trees were thought to possess a soul. People venerated trees as sacred beings and believed that their vital forces remained in the timber after it was harvested, retained within the building’s structural organization or emanating from its surfaces. In Japan, carpenters left the wood of Shinto shrines untreated in order to preserve a direct and tactile connection to the spirit within.19 In some cases, rituals were performed to convert the ‘wild’ energy of trees

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into a safe and ‘domesticated’ material suitable for construction. For Malays, the construction process and structural system were vehicles for assimilating wood’s animate properties into the built work. The traditional practice of ‘one house, one tree’ prescribes that nine loadbearing members of a house be hewn from a single trunk and positioned within the structure to maintain the same relationship they once held within the tree. Thus, the power of the living organism became embedded within the dwelling and mobilized to protect its occupants from harm.20 Although practices relating wood to its vital origins are no longer as prevalent as they once were, the material is still widely accepted and valued for its natural characteristics. Due in large part to its global availability and widespread use in construction and furniture fabrication, wood is perhaps the most universally recognized building material today. An appreciation of its visual and tactile warmth is widely shared by many cultures: studies have even shown that, given a choice, individuals prefer wood over other common materials. The preference for wood has been linked to positive physiological responses, leading some to suggest that our predilections for the material are hardwired in our brains.21 The ‘living’ forces within the material might also be considered from another perspective. Unlike other materials, such as stone or concrete, natural wood is neither stable nor static. In fact, it is the material’s propensity for movement and change that has influenced long-established practices in wood construction. As a tree, wood lives and grows; after harvest, it continues to change and evolve as it cures, shrinking as it dries and then swelling as moisture and humidity levels rise. Craftspeople have developed many joint types to respond to this ongoing transformation. Wood also remains flexible—a significant characteristic that allows timber structures to sway and shift during a storm or earthquake, often without sustaining significant damage. Wood is lightweight, compared to other building materials. This makes it particularly well suited to temporary or transportable structures, as evidenced by early forms of shelter and the dwellings of nomadic societies. Wood is also a transitory material. It is susceptible to destruction by insects, fire, and moisture. If left unprotected, it will return back to the soil from which it once originated. Many measures have been developed to protect wood: the addition of roof overhangs and stone footings

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to a wooden structure and the use of heavy timbers for structural support were all introduced to save wood from external forces. In some cases, however, the transient nature of wood has been exploited, rather than forestalled. The Neolithic builders of the Durrington Walls settlement in England highlighted the material’s propensity to decompose by making it the focus of the monument. Enormous 2-by-1meter-wide tree trunks were ‘planted’ in the ground and left to decay for approximately 160 years, after which time the voids left by the rotting stumps were filled with bones and other offerings to the gods. Archeologists now view the decaying timbers of the monument as a metaphor for the passage of life and a memorialization of the dead.22 Despite its vulnerabilities and inherent instability—and, sometimes, even because of these—wood has been harvested, manipulated, and exploited as a building material by many cultures over many generations. Composition and properties The properties and behavior of wood are determined by plant cell composition and structure. The outer layer of wood cells can be thought of as a ‘fiber-composite’ consisting of cellulose microfibrils held together by a matrix of lignin and hemicellulose. Cellulose makes up about 50 percent of the woody plant tissue and provides rigidity as well as flexibility; lignin and hemicellulose work to stiffen and bind the cellulose microfibrils, creating an elastic microstructure that is able to resist both tensile and compressive forces. Cellulose is hygroscopic, giving wood its high capacity for absorbing and releasing moisture—a characteristic that brings both benefits and disadvantages. Wood can be used to temper indoor humidity; however, radical fluctuations in moisture content can lead to dimensional changes and deformation of the material. Certain decomposing enzymes produced by fungi and insects also weaken the cellular structure of wood; fungi attack wood cells containing moisture (usually when levels reach 20 to 30 percent), which frequently occurs in areas of buildings that are not detailed or built to dry properly. Timber species are generally classified as either softwood or hardwood, depending upon the length and shape of the cells. The cellular structure of hardwood varies and is more complex, while softwood is characterized by a simple organization of long, narrow cells. Hardwood comes from trees with broad leaves. It is most commonly found in

2.11 Wood detailing of the Villa Sørensen by Arne Jacobsen.

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northern temperate forests and tropical rainforests. Hardwood grows at a slower rate than softwood, which increases the material’s strength and durability but also its cost. Because of this, builders rarely use hardwood for structural purposes in contemporary construction, reserving it instead for millwork and finishes. Softwood originates in coniferous forests located mostly in the Northern Hemisphere and grows much more rapidly than hardwood. Its simple cellular structure and medium density contribute to its workability, making it ideal for lightweight structural framing. The term ‘wood’ generally refers to any fibrous, ridged tissue found in the stems and branches of plants. More specifically, wood cells are produced by the cambium layer, which grows between the sapwood (xylem) layer at the heart of the tree and the innermost layer of bark (phloem). Each growing season, new cells produced within the growth layer develop to form part of either the xylem or the phloem layer—both of which are responsible for delivering important nutrients to different parts of the tree. Sap, containing water and sugars produced by the leaves, travels through the phloem

to the branches, trunk, and base of the tree, and the xylem layer stores and transfers water and nutrients from the roots up through the plant. As the tree ages, the cells in the xylem layer die, forming heartwood layers at the center of the trunk. Heartwood has long been prized in many parts of the world for its inherent strength, durability, and longevity, characteristics that we now attribute to chemicals (extractives) it contains that are resistant to decay and toxic to fungi. Today, however, most wood on the market comes from younger trees, which do not have well-developed heartwood cores. At the larger scale, wood’s properties and behavior are determined by the tree’s growth and structure, which varies depending on species, age, and location. Wood is also an anisotropic material. Its behavior changes depending on the direction of the wood fibers, which are aligned parallel to the tree’s trunk and branches; components cut following this orientation (with the grain, so to speak) are stronger than those cut perpendicular to (or against) the fibers. The direction of the grain also influences the magnitude of expansion and

phloem cambium xylem

2.12 Wood under a microscope at 40× magnification.

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contraction a piece of wood experiences due to moisture fluctuations. Wood is one of the few building materials offering both heat storage capacity and reasonable insulation value, both of which vary based on the density and moisture content of wood fibers. Contemporary wood frame construction does not take advantage of these properties, but traditional log cabins and newer massive timber systems do, to some extent. Nevertheless, total reliance on wood for insulation and thermal inertia within a wall system requires a significant amount of material thickness and surface area compared to other building materials. Another property that has become increasingly significant in the last decade or so is the material’s capacity to store carbon—both as it grows and during its lifetime as a building component. The concept of carbon sequestration—the removal and storage of carbon from the atmosphere—was first defined in 1991 and has since been accepted as a means for mitigating global warming. Wood is composed of about 50 percent carbon by weight; this stored carbon is released back into the atmosphere as wood decomposes or when wood is burned as fuel. One final characteristic of wood worth noting is warmth, a haptic as well as visual property determined by the material’s microstructure. As wood dries, its cells fill with air; these voids contribute to the material’s low thermal conductivity, which slows the transmission of heat from the body, causing the material to seem warm to the touch. Wood’s visual warmth appears to emanate from its fibers as they reflect longer wavelengths of light, imparting the material with warmer reddish and yellow hues.23 Traditional methods As with other material processes, the development and availability of specific tools informed the evolution of woodworking practices. Long before early humans developed the simplest of implements, they fashioned shelters from dead, fallen twigs, branches, and bark, which were flexible enough to be woven into roof structures. With the development of stone implements and, later, bronze and copper tools, individuals began to harvest and work with wood in different ways. Rudimentary axes or blades became essential in exploiting live trees for building materials. Growth was managed by trimming the crown, the new shoots emerging from the cut were harvested for

fabricating woven elements. Planks of wood were extracted by splitting them from standing trees with chisels and wedges. As the need for larger buildings increased, whole trees were felled and processed, and other technologies for transporting more substantial pieces of timber, such as rollers and levers, were developed.24 People shaped the material either by chipping away at it with an axe, adze, or chisel, splitting it with wedges, or charring it with fire. The heat from fire was used to straighten the wood or bend it into specific shapes. Wood was either soaked in cold water first and then held over the flames or boiled directly, until it became pliable.25 Timber used for construction might also be modified while it was still growing. The practice of girdling—removing a ring of bark around the circumference of the trunk—was employed during the Middle Ages to slow growth, thus inducing the tree to produce a denser wood less prone to shrinkage during drying.26 With a few exceptions, most traditional building practices were based on linear systems that followed the structure and grain of the tree. The linear nature of the material was expressed in two distinct typologies: the massive timber wall and the timber frame. Massive timber wall construction was traditionally characterized by the use of whole logs to form both the structure and enclosure of a building. Builders constructed massive walls from round, squared, or half round timbers that were notched or cut on either end and alternately stacked at right angles. They filled the horizontal spaces left between the timbers either by cutting a V-shaped groove into the underside of the log and pressing it into the wood below it, or by filling the void with earth or moss. Examples of log construction can be found in Northern and Central Europe, China, Japan, and North America, where it was most common in timberrich regions characterized by cold, dry weather. In these conditions, log construction provided a robust form of shelter, offering a sufficient level of insulation. Log construction was not limited solely to colder climates, however, and historical examples can also be found in Indonesia, where it was used for the foundations of old-style Toraja houses.27 Timber-frame construction was characterized by a system of interconnected wooden members, and many variations of this method can be found globally, from German Fachwerkhaüser to traditional Japanese minka houses. The

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2.13 Log cabin in Kansas, USA. Magdalénien hut (ca. 12,000 BCE) was an early precursor of timber-frame construction. This rudimentary form of shelter was built by leaning several wooden poles together; the resulting framework was covered with animal skins or vegetal material such as straw. Over time this simple framing system developed to become more solid and fixed. In place of poles, builders drove larger wooden posts into the ground, to which they added a substantial construction of woven branches, plastered with mud, or solid wood planking to form an enclosure. Wooden posts were the constant in early timber-frame buildings, with other components incorporated to address specific structural requirements. Horizontal members connecting the posts both at ground and roof level, for example, distributed the structural forces throughout the building. The sill beam prevented the building from sinking into the ground, whereas the roof beams carried the weight of the roof and loads created by wind or snow. Traditional timber-frame construction depended on wood-to-wood connections to

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transfer loads between horizontal and vertical members. Joints were shaped based on their location within the structure and the nature of the forces acting on them. In some cases joints were also designed to be disassembled; this allowed for the replacement of a single element or the dismantling of the entire structure. Butt joints were the simplest connections, formed simply by laying two pieces of wood next to each other. Halved and lapped joints were more complex, with some shaped to receive tensile as well as compressive forces. The term halved refers to the depth of the joint, which is cut halfway through each member so that they can be slipped together. A lap joint was formed by cutting the material so that each piece overlapped the other. The mortise and tenon joint was one of the most common connections used in timber-frame construction and required shaping a tenon at the end of one member, which would fit into a mortise, or cavity, cut into the opposing member. Craftspeople easily adapted timber-frame construction to accommodate the size and shape

2.14 German Fachwerkhaus.

2.15a Mortise and tenon joint.

2.15b Half-lap joint.

of available resources. But in times when settlement expanded—as it did in Europe in medieval times— the demand for buildings escalated, causing carpenters to expedite construction by turning to more consistent materials. Wood from long, straight trees with few branches required less work to make ready for construction, and uniform pieces could

be used for a variety of applications. The supply of high-quality timber soon vanished, however, as forests were plundered. This forced builders to once again shift their methods to incorporate odd-shaped pieces of timber in their work. Only later did managing timber growth and rationalizing processing become the primary

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means for standardizing wood construction. New systems based on uniform materials emerged in the United States in the 1800s during the Industrial Revolution. Balloon and platform framing provided an alternative to labor-intensive timber-frame construction, which had been rendered too expensive to meet the demands of a growing population. Recent developments Unlike earth, or reeds, wood is still highly valued as a building material in some countries, and its popularity is growing in others. Wood remains viable for many of the same reasons that it was in the past—it is abundant and versatile. On the surface, wood retains its appearances as an organic, natural material, but this impression belies the highly mechanized industrial processes that now characterize its production. The largely bespoke, potentially unstable constructions of previous generations have been replaced by structures engineered for consistency, predictability, and efficiency. Timber quality and size have also influenced building practices. Old-growth wood is now rare, and most lumber used in contemporary construction is sourced from rapidly grown timber of much smaller dimensions and lower quality than that of previous eras. Spurred on by population growth and a steady rise in per-capita income, the global consumption of wood products is expanding. Deforestation, however, continues to threaten timberland in South America and Africa, although it has declined in Europe, North America, and parts of Asia. In China, for example, building with wood has a long tradition but population growth in the 1980s caused severe housing shortages, which resulted in a steady shift away from traditional materials, such as wood and earth, and toward prefabricated concrete systems.28 Large tracts of forest were converted to agricultural land or cleared for development in the 1990s, triggering erosionrelated problems such as water and air pollution. Recent regulations and large-scale planting have reversed this trend and contributed to a gain in forest regeneration.29 Interest has once again shifted toward using timber for construction, encouraged mostly by its status as a carbonneutral material. Still, it will be several decades before native forests are able to handle the demands of the Chinese market.

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Indigenous forms of forest management may offer viable solutions for sustainable wood cultivation and production. Some researchers now contend that successful strategies for conserving forest ecosystems must also consider methods for preserving the livelihood of local communities. A recent study in rural Peru found that small, family-owned timber farms contribute to forest biodiversity and conservation, while the lumber they produce is a significant resource for construction in rapidly urbanizing centers of the Peruvian Amazon.30 Another example of effective, regionally based wood production can be found in Europe. Although manual woodworking techniques have been replaced by more mechanized technologies and timber is often transported great distances, maintaining long-established ties between the material, its place of origin, and local artisans is still possible—even advantageous—as contemporary wood construction in the Vorarlberg region of Austria demonstrates. There, manual processing by carpenters ended with the rise of the water-driven mill, but a revival of timber construction in the 1960s revitalized local craft traditions and established new connections between craftspeople and architects. Production methods may now include computer numerical control (CNC) technology and prefabrication, but contemporary woodcraft in Vorarlberg has grown to become a well-regarded “alternative to global mass production,” its products “manufactured in small-scale family owned businesses … fulfill[ing] the highest expectations in regard to form, function, and workmanship.”31 In the United States, wood-based construction has flourished since the 1950s and now represents the predominant method used in constructing residential structures. During the past few decades, however, there has been a gradual shift from solid members to engineered products. Most of Europe, by contrast, has largely abandoned wood construction; except for Scandinavia, where prefabrication and a rich supply of timber have bolstered its use. Despite having a long history with heavy timber construction, Germany and Great Britain now rely on concrete as the predominant material for building. Only in the last decade, after government regulations requiring the use of low-carbon materials were enacted, is wood once again seeing an uptick in use in these countries.

2.16 Cross-laminated timber blocks.

As the use of wood-based building products increases, new construction technologies based on massive timber elements are beginning to see more widespread use. The economy and sustainability of massive timber depend on wellmanaged, local forest resources; consequently, these systems are most common in countries such as Switzerland, Germany, Austria, and Sweden. Massive timber has the potential to advance wood construction technology to the same level of use as other industrially manufactured materials, while also integrating local resources and traditional fabrication practices with contemporary production systems. Additionally, thermal properties that have been underutilized for decades may now once again be integrated as an active part of timber systems. It may be a stretch to make connections between contemporary massive timber systems and traditional log construction, but it is easy to see that ‘modified’ log construction is a forerunner of cross-laminated timber (CLT) construction. CLT is a loadbearing massive timber system that employs engineered wood panels, which are fabricated by stacking and gluing dimensional lumber in alternating layers. Modified log construction uses prefabricated, solid wood elements, which have been cut to fit together precisely (rather than glued like CLT). This loadbearing system is sometimes used in

the alpine regions of Switzerland and Germany, although energy regulations now require an additional layer of insulation. Haus Walpen, designed by Swiss architect Gion Caminada in 2002, best exemplifies how a traditional method like log construction can be adapted over time to reflect contemporary standards and taste. Other recent projects featuring wood as a primary material have also taken new inspiration from ‘old’ craft traditions and local supply systems. In order to save on cost, Chilean architects Gabriel Rudolphy and Alejandro Soffia capitalized on locally available technology and labor to construct the Hostal Ritoque [3.2]. The building follows a modular system based on the dimensions of rough-sawn pine. In Austria, local wood gives projects by architect Bernardo Bader their distinctive character. The material has also inspired a working methodology centered around timber harvesting and processing [5.6]. In Japan, BAKOKO architects have used contemporary manufacturing methods based on time-honored methods of wood joinery to achieve the seismically resistant mortise and tenon connections of the Onjuku Beach House [3.1]. All three projects are clear examples of current wood manufacturing and construction methods in their respective countries and demonstrate that even in an era of globalized mass production, wood still retains its aesthetic and cultural significance.

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2.17 Haus Walpen, modified log construction.

Bamboo Rural and also urban, local and at the same time global, bamboo’s role as a contemporary material is variable and changing. This extremely practical resource, nicknamed the “material of millions,” pervades almost every aspect of daily life for many people, fulfilling a multitude of needs on a wide range of scales.32 Bamboo poles can be rapidly deployed as temporary scaffolding for fishing nets, used to construct bridges and walkways, and even provide an integral component in aqueduct systems found in countries such as Thailand and China. At the more intimate scale, the material’s vessel-like shape lends itself to carrying water and cooking food, and it is often used as a base material for cutting tools such as knives and arrows.33 For centuries, bamboo has served many populations as a versatile and strong construction material— from structural framework to woven screens, it has been utilized for almost every kind of building component imaginable.

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Bamboo’s versatility and pragmatic usefulness has long been recognized. During its centuries of use, the material has acquired symbolic and spiritual significance for many cultures. In Asia numerous societies have seen themselves reflected in the form and traits of the bamboo plant; its graceful movements, flexibility, and strength have often been the subject of Japanese and Chinese paintings and literature. Some early cultures considered the inner void of bamboo’s hollow to be the origin of the human race.34 For many, bamboo is associated with longevity and abundance in life. Nevertheless, these enduring beliefs have not hindered bamboo’s marginalization as a building material, as contemporary preferences move toward more durable alternatives such as steel and concrete. As with other natural materials, few early bamboo structures survive. The archeological artifacts that have been best preserved are those that were plastered or encased in earth. This was the case in China, where evidence of bamboo’s earliest use for construction can be found near the middle valley of the Yangtze River. There, a number

2.18 Bamboo bridge in Vietnam.

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of Neolithic houses fashioned from bamboo and mud plaster were built by the Daxi people.35 Their discovery suggests that bamboo was one of the first building materials to be exploited in China. Bamboo, or guadua, as it is known in Latin America, has also been used for centuries in Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. Remnants of the Valdivia civilization in Ecuador may provide some of the earliest examples of bamboo construction; bamboo poles were used as reinforcement for earthen walls dating from 5500 BCE to 3500 BCE. A similar system was also used to stabilize the ancient earthen structures of the pre-Columbian city of Chan Chan.36 Later, during the Spanish colonial expansion, European chroniclers documented the prevalent use of bamboo by native societies. The Spanish, who adopted it for building their own settlement infrastructure, soon recognized the material’s practicality for rapid construction.37 Ultimately, however, it was colonization that led to a rejection of the plant, as well as the material, and so began the shift toward other more permanent materials with less significant ties to the indigenous population.38 Bamboo, like wood, is susceptible to the elements. If left unprotected, building components will last only a few years. Bamboo’s short lifespan and pervasiveness has, in part, influenced the ways in which the material has traditionally been used and regarded by many cultures. When the material begins to decay, it is simply replaced. An example of this practice can still be observed in the Philippines, where most bamboo structures have a brief lifespan. Rather than replacing individual bamboo components, an entirely new structure is often built next to its disintegrating counterpart.39 The cycle of decomposition and replacement has been the norm for centuries and has quite possibly contributed to the current view of bamboo as an expendable, unreliable material. Despite its weaknesses, bamboo has impressed and inspired a number of notable architects and engineers, in some cases even acting as a bridge between East and West as well as traditional craft and modern production systems. Bamboo structures in Manila, for example, are said to have influenced the development of steelframe construction, which is commonly attributed to William Le Baron Jenney as designer of the first skyscraper in 1884. Jenney spent several months in the Philippines as a youth and came away with a respect for the resiliency of bamboo

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construction.40 German architect Bruno Taut also developed a deep appreciation for the material during his exile in Japan from 1933 to 1938. His adaptation of bamboo as a contemporary building material is evident in his design for the Hyuga Villa in Atami, where he integrated modernist aesthetics with his own translation of traditional Japanese architecture.41 Another German architect fascinated with bamboo’s potential was Frei Otto. His interest in the material began in 1951, while studying historical precedents for hanging roofs. He expanded this exploration during his time as the head of the Institute for Lightweight Structures at the University of Stuttgart, where he led research exploring the limits of bamboo as a lightweight construction material.42 Composition and properties Bamboo is a giant grass from the Poaceae family. The plant’s anatomical structure determines the material’s mechanical properties. Bamboo is characterized by its hollow, woody stem, or culm, which is bisected at intervals by solid nodes.43 Bamboo rhizomes multiply and spread underground, and during the rainy season this root-like system sends up slender shoots, which grow extremely rapidly—sometimes up to 1 meter or more per day! The bamboo shoot reaches its maximum height during the first growing season, and its diameter remains constant from the moment it emerges from the ground. A hard, waxy cortex layer containing silica protects the outside of bamboo’s internodes, the hollow stem sections between the nodes. The cortex acts as a moisture barrier for the plant, helping it to retain water; this layer also prevents moisture absorption, impeding the penetration of preservatives. Because bamboo does not produce a large amount of foliage, the cortex layer also contains the chlorophyll necessary for sustaining the plant’s rapid growth. Bamboo’s strength depends primarily on the structure and composition of the ground tissue located between the cortex and the hollow cavity, or lacuna, found at the center of the culm. The ground tissue is a multilayered structure of cellulose and hemicellulose microfibrils held within a parenchyma cell matrix. The microfibrils reinforce the plant tissue, and their distribution increases at the culm perimeter, providing stiffness where bending stresses are the greatest. Lignin is also present, acting as a binder and filler, and is responsible for the plant’s compressive strength.

and produces up to 35 percent more oxygen than trees.45 As a building material, bamboo has a high strength-to-weight ratio and functions well in compression (it possesses twice the compressive strength of concrete). Roughly the same strength in bending and tension as structural steel, it is ideal for resisting seismic and lateral wind forces, as documented by several instances of bamboo buildings withstanding typhoons and high-magnitude earthquakes.46 Like wood, bamboo is anisotropic: it is several times stronger longitudinally in tension than in the transverse direction. Its strength increases as it dries, although the culm diameter shrinks significantly as moisture evaporates from the culm cells.47 Bamboo is also a hygroscopic material, expanding and contracting as much as 6 percent across its diameter during seasonal moisture fluctuations. This variation often causes shifting and loosening of bamboo structures at the joints. Bamboo’s hollow form does make it vulnerable to fire, and it is more flammable at the culm ends than in the center. However, its high silica content gives the material some level of fire resistance: when compared to wood members of the same diameter, bamboo is more difficult to ignite. It burns, however, at about the same rate.48 2.19 Bamboo clump. The ground tissue lignifies (stiffens) after the plant’s growth phase, and continues to mature and strengthen as it ages. Most bamboos achieve maximum strength after about three years and are typically harvested after four to five, although this can vary from species to species. Bamboo rhizomes continually produce new shoots each year, and cutting the older culms actually stimulates new growth. As a plant, bamboo offers several advantages. Bamboo can adapt to poor site conditions, and its rhizome root system forms a complex network that is ideal for stabilizing soil, and also promotes water absorption and retention. The aboveground culms grow in clumps, which form protective enclosures for many types of wildlife and can also aid in mitigating water and wind erosion. Because of its rapid development and production cycle, a stand of bamboo can produce more than three times the biomass of trees grown on the same area.44 The plant also sequesters more carbon

Traditional methods The bamboo plant’s origins are unknown, but fossilized remains, together with studies indicating suitable growing climates, have led scientists to assume that bamboo may have proliferated in Southeast Asia during the Pleistocene Epoch (from 2.6 million to 11,700 years ago). Its propagation is thought to be an archaic example of globalization, as the species Bambusa vulgaris spread from one continent to another, possibly in the form of rafts used by early seafarers.49 In the past, archeologists and anthropologists believed that stone tools were indicators of human development; however, this model fails to take other, less durable materials into account. The ‘bamboo hypothesis’ has been used to explain the lack of stone tool innovation in Southeast Asia: prehistoric humans were probably using bamboo instead. Due to the absence of archeological remains, assumptions about the material’s prehistoric use can only be based on ethnographic studies of modern peoples and on use–wear experiments of artifacts, which indicate that stones were likely exploited for cutting bamboo.

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Recent studies have also proven that it would have been possible to shape bamboo knives capable of cutting flesh by using only a simple cobblestone.50 Eventually, people fabricated knives from metal and used them for felling bamboo. Once the material was harvested, ropes were threaded through holes cut in the culm ends, and the poles were bundled and dragged from the forest by pack animals or by hand. Initially, bamboo was probably used in its raw state; bamboo’s high starch content makes it an ideal food source for fungi and insects, and, if left untreated, it will begin to decay after just a few years. Over time, people developed different techniques for preserving the material. Soaking bamboo in a river or lake became the most common method for washing starch from the culm; mud render might also have been applied to keep insects at bay; after treatment the culms were left to dry in a protected place outside. In Japan, curing green culms with smoke from a fireplace or special chamber became the primary method for preserving bamboo starting in the sixteenth century.51 The first bamboo structures were simple gable-shed or conical-shaped roofs made from unworked bamboo, fastened together using lashed connections of rattan or other pliable plant fibers, and covered with thatch. Later, builders developed more complex connections, which involved cutting, fitting, and pinning the poles at intersections. All of the cuts and joints necessary for constructing a simple shelter could be accomplished by using the same tool: a sharp, machete-like knife. Bamboo is easier to work while still green, and if destined for woven elements or panels, it was typically cut to size before drying. Bamboo’s low shear strength along its length facilitates splitting the culm into long C-shaped sections, which were often used for roofing and gutters. The culm could also be slashed, unrolled, flattened, and dried to form boards for siding and flooring. Although numerous types of traditional bamboo dwellings exist, the raised platform house was, and still is, the most ubiquitous typology found in Southeast Asia. Houses are often built several meters from the ground, which promotes natural ventilation and offers protection from both the rising damp and roaming animals. One example of a traditional raised platform house, the Philippine bahay kubo, is made from bamboo (and, in some cases, wood) and nipa palm leaves. The dwelling’s post and

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lintel system relies on vertical bamboo supports set an equal distance apart, either directly on the ground or on a stone foundation. Bamboo ‘beams’ span between the posts at the top and bottom of the structure, forming a framework for hanging infill panels woven from a wide array of natural fibers. The roof is an important element: formed by sloping bamboo rafters from the upper beam to the central ridgepole at a steep pitch, it protects the dwelling from rain. Bundled nipa palm leaves or cogon grass is then placed over bamboo battens attached to the primary roof structure. Split bamboo planks are laid over the floor joists, resulting in a smooth, springy walking surface, porous enough for air and light to penetrate. An additional woven mat is sometimes rolled over the floor, which is easily removed for cleaning. The entire structure relies on bypass connections, or specially cut joints, such as the fish mouth. The semicircular joint is outlined with the end of the receiving member as a template, and a chisel or machete is used to chip away the material. The connection is refined by eye, and eventually shaved down to fit snuggly against its opposing member. Bamboo nails are hammered into holes cut or drilled through both members at a 45-degree angle, and the connection is then lashed with natural fibers such as rattan. Even though the bahay kubo is made from lightweight materials, its use of redundant structural members, braced frames, and tight spacing between supports can often insure that it withstands strong winds and seismic forces. Another construction technique, called bahareque, was common (and is still sometimes used) in certain areas of Latin America; specifically, in Colombia, Ecuador, and Northern Peru, where bamboo grew in abundance. Houses built using this method are also constructed using bamboo post and beam systems, but rather than covering the exterior with woven fiber panels (as in the bahay kubo typology), esterilla, or split bamboo lath, is attached to the wall framework and filled with earth. A variation of this system relies on bamboo panels, which are attached to the interior and exterior of the framework and then covered with mud render. The bahareque technique is well known for its seismic resistance, and has been used for both rural as well as urban construction. Examples of two- and three-story bahareque buildings originally dating from the 1920s still stand in the Colombian city of Manizales.52

2.20 Bolo or Filipino bamboo knife.

2.21 Bamboo shingles.

2.22 Flattening bamboo culms.

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2.23 A contemporary bahay kubo before pegging and lashing.

2.24 Bamboo floor.

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2.25 Fish mouth joint.

2.26 Bahareque construction. Recent developments Today bamboo grows on every continent except Antarctica and Europe. While typically thriving in tropical and subtropical conditions, between the latitudes of 50° north and 47° south, the plant has a potentially greater geographic distribution than in previous eras due to continuing human intervention. Because of its wide availability, bamboo plays an important role in the livelihoods of millions of people worldwide, and that number is likely to grow as a result of advances in production processes and the establishment of globalized distribution networks.53 Laminated flooring and plywood make up about 20 percent of the global market for bamboo. Manufacturing methods developed in the 1940s have standardized the material and reduced a number of its long-standing weaknesses. In order to decrease its susceptibility to infestation and decay, bamboo is rapidly processed after harvest: the hard cortex layer is removed; the culms are sectioned lengthwise and milled into flat strips. The strips are then boiled in a solution of borax, kiln dried, and subsequently

glued together to form solid blocks of flooring or other laminate products. This process requires a great deal of energy, but it results in a strong, durable, and uniform material. Currently, laminated bamboo is widely used for non-structural purposes, but there are few standards covering its use structurally. Consequently, wood standards are often applied in studies testing the mechanical behavior of bamboo and several recent experiments have confirmed that laminated bamboo lumber (LBL) is as strong or stronger than wood products of an equivalent size. However, inadequate standards, in addition to the lack of consistent building codes, will continue to be major impediments to the standardization of bamboo and related building products.54 The limits of bamboo-based composites are also being tested in other ways: research conducted by the Future Cities Laboratory in Singapore is studying the behavior of hybrid bamboo and concrete structural systems. The program’s director Dirk Hebel makes the case that bamboo “has the potential to completely

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2.27 Laminated bamboo.

shift international economic relations,” from a production system favoring wealthy, industrialized countries to a model reliant on a “raw material found predominantly in the developing world.”55 Despite the fact that many of the raw materials used for making steel and cement originate in the “developing world,” the research does propose an innovative method for incorporating a natural material into industrialized building processes. By injecting the bamboo fibers with epoxy, the intention is to overcome the inherent tendencies of the material to expand and contract and to counteract its propensity for decay. Currently, systems for incorporating the material as reinforcement for concrete structural members remains in the testing phase, but the initial results appear promising. Altering bamboo’s composition through lamination or impregnation might offer new potential for material applications, but mechanical processing is often more complex and involved than similar operations used for wood; it also strips the material of its cultural associations and perceived value as a natural material. Whole culm bamboo, when used as a building material, can evoke both nostalgic as well as unfavorable associations with rural living and the countryside. While for some middle and upper class urbanites in parts of Asia, bamboo has achieved luxury status, as it represents uniqueness and authenticity in an era of standardization and

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mass production. Architects such as Mañosa & Company in the Philippines have created a niche market for customized, handcrafted buildings made substantially of whole culm bamboo. A tolerance for the material’s idiosyncratic nature has its limits, however, and only the straightest and best quality poles are typically selected for construction, which increases their cost considerably—so much so that bamboo has become, in the words of another Filippino architect, a “badge of having money to spend.”56 Conversely, bamboo’s status as the ‘poor man’s timber’ in rural areas has contributed to its decline as a local commodity for construction.57 Nevertheless, there is likely a great deal of potential for the material, both as an industrialized product and as an important cultural symbol. An increasing number of architects are considering whole culm bamboo as a viable material for constructing a wide array of building types, from schools to housing. To improve durability and longevity, most contemporary bamboo components are pre-treated with chemicals—usually with boric acid, which protects the material from fungus and insects. Joints are also often reinforced, either with solid bamboo or with cement mortar. Prefabrication provides another way to increase the predictability and efficiency of bamboo construction, and several systems have been developed in recent years. To control quality

2.28 Bamboo roof structure in vacation house by Mañosa & Company.

and cost, Vietnamese architect Vo Trong Nghia employs prefabricated bamboo elements with spectacular results [5.5]. Prefabricated bamboo panels have also been developed as an efficient method for constructing housing in communities undergoing rapid population growth or enduring the catastrophic effects of natural disasters. The Global Housing Program, funded by the International Network for Bamboo and Ratan and other aid organizations, has supported several prefabricated bamboo modular housing projects in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. The aid organization Base has developed an integrated business model for the Philippines that supports the entire chain of production—from farming to application—for modular bamboo building components [3.4]. Bamboo is also preferred by architects for its cultural connections and the potential it offers as a focus for community engagement and skills training. Estudio Damgo is the first design/ building program for architecture students in the

Philippines, and all of its projects are built using bamboo and other locally sourced materials [4.2]. Students undergo extensive training at Bambus Collabo, a worker cooperative founded by bamboo craftspeople. Each Estudio Damgo project has presented a challenge to the public’s perception of bamboo as a temporary material. Over time, their buildings have proven to be durable additions to the community and, as a result, enthusiasm for bamboo construction in the area has grown. This way of working creates a culturally sensitive model for development that foregrounds sustainable practices. Bamboo will most likely continue to have a place in contemporary construction, but what form this will take still remains to be seen. Lamination and other processes that standardize the material’s behavior promise a future of mass-produced, structural components, but these could be costprohibitive to manufacture. Conversely, whole culm construction is inexpensive and offers a wide range of positive economic and social benefits that manufactured products do not. A growing desire for authenticity has prompted some to reevaluate the material, while others continue to reject it for its associations with rural living and poverty. The advancement of bamboo construction will most likely occur in the very locations where it has been used for centuries, and its future will be contingent on its acceptance by the construction industry, as well as the average person.58

Notes 1 Kenneth Frampton, Studies in Tectonic Culture: The Poetics of Construction in Nineteenth and Twentieth Century Architecture (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1995), 14. 2 George R. H. Wright, Ancient Building in South Syria and Palestine (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1985), 456. 3 Mark Jarzombek, Architecture of First Societies: A Global Perspective (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley, 2013), 285. 4 While beyond the scope of this book to discuss every type of reed and grass used for construction, it is important to mention the most common varieties still in use today. Not covered here are thatching methods incorporating leaves, shrubs, and vines.

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5 Bamboo is also classified as a grass, but because it is mainly used for structural applications it is covered in its own section of this book. 6 Marwen Bouasker, Naima Belayachi, Dashnor Hoxha, and Muzahim Al-Mukhtar, “Physical Characterization of Natural Straw Fibers as Aggregates for Construction Materials Applications,” Materials 7, no. 4 (April 2014): 3034–3048. 7 Satoshi Ono and Yukimasa Yamada, “A Report of Turf Ridge (shibamune) in Japanese Thatched Folk Houses,” in Vernacular Heritage and Earthen Architecture: Contributions for Sustainable Development, ed. Mariana Correia, Gilberto Carlos, and Sandra C. S. Rocha (Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press, 2014), 290. 8 Robert C. West, Thatch: A Complete Guide to the Ancient Art of Thatching (Pittstown, NJ: Main Street Press, 1988), 64–66. 9 M. K. Holme, “Against the Grain,” Metropolis 22 (January 2003): 114–117. 10 Bruce King and Mark Aschheim, Design of Straw Bale Buildings: The State of the Art (San Rafael, CA: Green Building Press, 2006), 57. 11 Roxana Waterson, The Living House: An Anthropology of Architecture in South-East Asia (Rutland, VT: Tuttle Publishing, 2009), 87. 12 Gerhard Holzmann, Matthais Wangelin, and Rainer Bruns, Natürliche und pflanzliche Baustoffe: Rohstoff—Bauphysik—Konstruktion (Wiesbaden: Springer, 2012), 214. 13 Berit Böhme, “Warum Reetdächer plötzlich so schnell verrotten,” Die Welt online, www.welt. de/wissenschaft/umwelt/article119321946/ Warum-Reetdaecher-ploetzlich-so-schnellverrotten.html 14 Lloyd Kahn and Bob Easton, Shelter (Bolinas: Shelter Publications, 1973). 15 For more information on contemporary straw bale construction in Europe, see http:// baubiologie.at/strohballenbau/category/ baubiologie/strohballenbau-europa/ 16 Herbert Gruber, Astrid Gruber, and Helmuth Santler, Neues Bauen mit Stroh (Staufen bei Freiburg: Ökobuch, 2008), 19.

Schönewasser, Riegersburg, Austria, January 16, 2009. 19 Klaus Zwerger, Wood and Wood Joints: Building Traditions of Europe, Japan and China (Basel: Birkhäuser, 2012), 17. 20 Waterson, The Living House, 118. 21 Jennifer Rice, Robert Kozak, Michael J. Meitner, and David H. Cohen, “Appearance Wood Products and Psychological Well-Being,” Wood and Fiber Science: Journal of the Society of Wood Science and Technology 38, no. 4 (January 2006): 644. 22 Mike Parker Pearson, “Earth, Wood and Fire: Materiality and Stonehenge,” in Soils, Stones and Symbols: Cultural Perceptions of the Mineral World, ed. Nicole Boivin and Mary Ann Owoc (London: UCL, 2004), 76–77. 23 Satoshi Sakuragawa, Yoshifumi Miyazaki, Tomoyuki Kaneko, and Teruo Makita, “Influence of Wood Wall Panels on Physiological and Psychological Responses,” Journal of Wood Science 51, no. 2 (April 2005): 136–140. 24 Linda M. Hurcombe, Perishable Material Culture in Prehistory: Investigating the Missing Majority (Hoboken, NJ: Taylor and Francis, 2014), 17–26. 25 Ibid. 26 Zwerger, Wood and Wood Joints, 17. 27 Waterson, The Living House, 87. 28 Ronald G. Knapp, China’s Old Dwellings (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2000), 326. 29 Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, Global Forest Resources Assessment (Rome: FAO, 2010). 30 Robin R. Sears and Miguel Pinedo-Vasquez, “From Fallow Timber to Urban Housing: Family and Tablilla Production in Peru,” in The Social Lives of Forests: Past, Present, and Future of Woodland Resurgence, ed. Susanna B. Hecht, Kathleen D. Morrison, and Christine Padoch (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2014), 336–347.

17 Ibid.

31 Ulrich Dangel, Sustainable Architecture in Vorarlberg: Energy Concepts and Construction Systems (Basel: Birkhäuser, 2010).

18 Werner Schmidt, “Lasttragender Strohballenbau,” lecture hosted by

32 Susanne Lucas, Bamboo (London: Reaktion Books, 2013), 68.

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33 Jacqueline Piper, Bamboo and Rattan: Traditional Uses and Beliefs (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992). 34 Lucas, Bamboo, 89. 35 Charles Higham, The Bronze Age of Southeast Asia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).

Implications of Globalization,” in Forests and Globalization: Challenges and Opportunities for Sustainable Development, ed. William Nikolakis and John L. Innes (London: Routledge, 2014), 167.

37 James J. Parsons, “Giant American Bamboo in the Vernacular Architecture of Colombia and Ecuador,” Geographical Review 81, no. 2 (April 1991): 131–152.

50 Ofer Bar-Yosef, Metin I. Erenb, Jiarong Yuan, David J. Cohen, and Yiyuan Li, “Were Bamboo Tools Made in Prehistoric Southeast Asia? An Experimental View from South China,” Quaternary International: The Journal of the International Union for Quaternary Research 268 (January 2012): 9–21; Jolee A. West and Julien Louys, “Differentiating Bamboo from Stone Tool Cut Marks in the Zooarchaeological Record, with a Discussion on the Use of Bamboo Knives,” Journal of Archaeological Science 34, no. 4 (April 2007), 512–518.

38 Oscar Hidalgo, Bamboo: The Gift of the Gods (Bogotá, Colombia: [self-published], 2003), 46.

51 Von Vegesack and Kries, Grow Your Own House, 163.

39 Centro Escolar University, Bamboo (Mendiola, Manila, Philippines: Centro Escolar University, 2000), 17.

52 Hidalgo, Bamboo: The Gift of the Gods, 370.

36 Alexander von Vegesack and Mateo Kries, Grow Your Own House: Simón Vélez und die Bambusarchitektur = Simón Vélez and Bamboo Architecture (Weil am Rhein: Vitra Design Museum, 2000), 185.

40 William Bryce Mundie, “Skeleton Construction, Its Origin and Development,” unpublished manuscript, 1932, held in the Ryerson and Burnham Archives: Archival Image Collection, Chicago. Digitized version available at http:// digital-libraries.saic.edu/cdm/ref/collection/ mqc/id/63934. Mundie was William Le Baron Jenney’s business associate. 41 Dana Buntrock, Materials and Meaning in Contemporary Japanese Architecture: Tradition and Today (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2010), 66. 42 Siegfried Gass, Heide Drüsedau, Jürgen Hennicke, and Klaus Dunkelberg, Bambus = Bamboo (Stuttgart: Institut für Leichte Flächentragwerke, Universität Stuttgart, 1985). 43 Solid bamboo is not discussed here, although it is also used in construction, mostly as a reinforcing infill for hollow bamboo joints. 44 Gernot Minke, Building with Bamboo (Basel: Birkhäuser, 2012). 45 Lucas, Bamboo, 14. 46 Ibid. 47 Hidalgo, Bamboo: The Gift of the Gods, 73.

53 Yannick Kuehl, “Resources, Yield, and Volume of Bamboos,” in Bamboo: The Plant and Its Uses, ed. Walter Liese and Michael Kohl (New York: Springer, 2015), 91. 54 Ana Gatóo, Bhavna Sharma, Maximilian Bock, Helen Mulligan, and Michael H. Ramage, “Sustainable Structures: Bamboo Standards and Building Codes,” Proceedings of the ICE, special issue, Engineering Sustainability 167, no. 5 (2014): 189–196. 55 Dirk Hebel, “Bamboo Could Turn the World’s Construction Trade on Its Head,” Ecos magazine online, http://www.ecosmagazine. com/?paper=EC14204 56 Filippino architect Rene Armogenia, in discussion with author, San Jose, Philippines, July 5, 2015. 57 Hoogendoorn and Benton, “Bamboo and Rattan Production,” 167; The phrase ‘poor man’s timber’ is often used in books about bamboo and by those working with the material, to describe its contemporary associations with poverty. 58 For a more detailed discussion of current efforts to increase bamboo’s acceptance by the construction industry, see Chapter 7.

48 Gass et al., Bambus = Bamboo. 49 Coosje Hoogendoorn and Andrew Benton, “Bamboo and Rattan Production and the

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PART II MATERIAL STRATEGIES Part II examines how changing market forces, social and cultural needs, and environmental factors have altered the development and application of traditional materials and methods in both negative and positive ways. Each chapter is devoted to exploring a single aspect of recent developments and the related case studies demonstrate how architects, engineers, and builders have successfully adapted these resources and processes in response to new and fluctuating circumstances.

Taylor & Francis Taylor & Francis Group http:/taylorandfrancis.com

3 Bespoke to Standardized

3.1 Prefabricated rammed earth panels at the Ricola Kräuterzentrum.

Today, most buildings are less an expression of place than an assembled product, created by global supply chain logistics and manufacturing processes. Architects and contractors select building components from catalogs, with the process of specification most often informed by economic constraints. Although some environmental standards, such as the Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) certification program, encourage the use of local and regional materials, a majority of buildings are fabricated from resources originating in radically diverse locations. The demand for sustainable building products is growing, however: it is projected to reach a global market value of $254 billion by 2020.1 The rise in demand for carbon-neutral materials has precipitated a revaluing of locally sourced, renewable resources. The resurgence of mass timber construction in a number of European countries is an indicator of this trend. As new products enter the mainstream market they are subject to a broad range of requirements, from meeting fire regulations to addressing consumer preferences. The process of modifying materials and methods to fit the demands of the contemporary marketplace varies, as the examples that follow show. The construction industry continually shifts toward greater efficiency, and in order to remain competitive, traditional systems must match the reliability, convenience, and affordability offered by competing mainstream practices.

Regulation and Standardization For early societies, the need to accelerate the construction process gave rise to prefabricated or unitized building components. Nomadic groups devised systems reliant on lightweight, uniform materials that could be easily assembled, dismantled, and transported. The growth of the first urban settlements brought about the development of the form-molded mud brick, resulting in stationary, stable structures that could be more rapidly deployed than those made from handmolded masonry.2 With the exception of wood, however, the systematization of most traditional materials plateaued, limited by production

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methods highly dependent upon technical skill and craftsmanship. Over time, these methods could not compete with the mechanized production of steel and other building materials. Today, mass production offers the potential to systematize materials that have remained outside mainstream production scenarios. The case of manufactured earth masonry in Germany offers probably the best example of this to date. One of the greatest challenges facing a product such as unfired earth brick is the lack of regulations defining production; standards promote uniformity from one producer to another while also assuring quality and performance. In 2013 the German Institute for Standardization (DIN) introduced norms that define the production of loadbearing and non-loadbearing earth masonry and mortar.3 In addition to the Lehmbau Regeln (Earth Building Code), these norms give governing authorities a framework for assessing new buildings made from standardized earth products. As with earth masonry, few standards govern straw bale construction, making quality control and regulation challenging. Straw has, however, reached the mainstream market in the United Kingdom. There, the company ModCell introduced their straw cladding panel in 2001 [3.5]. The product has evolved and is now produced as a prefabricated, loadbearing panel filled with straw bales. ModCell, in collaboration with the BRE Centre for Innovative Construction Materials in Bath, conducted structural, fire, acoustic, and thermal transmittance tests necessary to receive certification under the BM TRADA Q-Mark, a UKbased certification system for building products. By meeting certification criteria, ModCell demonstrates compliance with industry performance standards, paving the way for industry acceptance.

Cultural Perceptions Materials, like forms, carry with them cultural associations. One material may signal or support certain societal aspirations, whereas another might disrupt them. Therefore, the developer of new products must consider these associations with care. Further complicating matters, cultural preferences are often less than straightforward. In Europe and the United States, for example, ascertaining whether renewable or ‘natural’ materials are preferred for their environmental

performance or solely for their sustainable image can be difficult. In the case of the Ricola Kräuterzentrum [3.6], one could argue that the building’s enclosure, constructed from rammed earth, constitutes a clever marketing strategy intended to reinforce the company’s “naturally good” corporate ethos.4 The relationship between cultural perception and marketability resides at the heart of a number of case studies presented in this chapter. Some ancient construction preferences and practices have become so deeply embedded in a culture that they persist to the present day. In Japan, for example, heavy timber construction remains the preferred system employed by the housing industry. Although refined over the centuries, its fabrication is highly mechanized, while some features (such as joint configuration) remain relatively unchanged. In addition, daiku, or traditional master woodworkers, are in many cases still responsible for assembling the timber framework. In other cultures, the opposite is true: new products that rely on traditional materials can face difficulties in gaining acceptance in places where, used daily, these materials are undervalued. Negative associations ascribed to certain materials stymie efforts to upscale their application, especially when used in housing construction. This is problematic, as the rising cost of industrially produced materials and the complexities of importation have made low-cost housing out of reach for many. The connection between social status and the outward appearance of one’s house has influenced the ways in which materials are perceived and has hindered efforts to revive certain building practices in several countries. In parts of India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, for example, houses are classified by material; these, in turn, reflect the social status of the dwellings’ occupants. The Kutcha house is the most common type among poorer individuals, because of its reliance on weaker, cheaper materials. It is constructed on an earthen foundation and enclosed by walls framed with bamboo, covered by organic materials. The Semi-Pucca house is constructed from sturdier materials—typically a timber frame covered by woven bamboo mats, or corrugated metal sheets resting on a brick perimeter wall foundation. Pucca construction, which uses either masonry or concrete for walls and foundations, is traditionally reserved for dwellings occupied by only the

wealthiest families and is regarded as superior to the other construction types. The aid organization Base needed to navigate a similar hierarchy of materials when it developed sustainable, affordable housing for the Philippine market [3.4]. Bamboo was (and still is) an important natural resource on the islands, long integral to the lives of many Filipinos. More recently, bamboo has fallen out of favor and has been replaced by more massive, industrially produced materials. Local preferences for cement masonry block and concrete led Base to suppress the outward expression of bamboo, giving the impression of a home constructed from massive materials rather than lightweight framework. There have been numerous attempts—mainly by aid organizations working in developing countries—to address the weaknesses of traditional building materials. The development of the compressed earth block (CEB) offers an interesting case study in this regard. CEB falls in a gray zone, somewhere between a manufactured product and a handmade brick, but its uniformity potentially makes it a competitive alternative to the ubiquitous concrete block. Many projects spearheaded by aid organizations were, and still are, unambitious in terms of addressing the issue of desirability. Rarely do these non-governmental bodies involve architects in the development process, and as a result most of these structures are not designed to be anything more than basic, utilitarian shelters. CEB’s identification with this kind of construction perhaps may explain why the material’s potential is often underrated by the construction industry and why it is considered a non-viable alternative to mainstream construction materials. Locally owned enterprises continue to produce compressed earth blocks in a number of African countries, albeit in small quantities. It is this production model that may finally introduce CEB to a larger market. In Niamey, Niger, for example, interest in using CEBs has increased. A few contractors have learned how to make the bricks and have used them for constructing affordable housing. CEB makes sense for larger projects like these, as scaling up production reduces the cost per unit, making the system competitive with concrete masonry. Niamey 2000 [3.3], a multifamily housing complex in Niamey, seeks to shift prevailing attitudes about earth construction by integrating the material into homes that Nigeriens find attractive and want to own.

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Traditional Identity and Replication The following projects highlight the role of traditional technologies from multiple perspectives within the contemporary marketplace. The Onjuku Beach House [3.1] and Hostal Ritoque [3.2] illustrate how systems based on traditional methods have at turns become highly developed and integrated into mainstream practice or grown increasingly underutilized. Long-standing biases against certain native resources impede a scalingup of production, and the Niamey 2000 and Base projects offer two approaches to shifting cultural perceptions. Regulations and standards also restrict large-scale applications, and Martin

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Rauch’s prefabricated rammed earth panels for Ricola and ModCell’s loadbearing straw bale panels for Bristol townhomes repackage ‘old’ materials to meet the demands of the contemporary regulatory environment. Whether these materials will lose their ‘traditional’ associations once production becomes fully mechanized and the final product becomes fully predictable remains an open question; it is unclear whether these particular examples are exceptions to a general rule, replicable only in a few instances or under very particular circumstances. Imagining a potential future trajectory for each system, however, constitutes an important goal of this chapter, as is encouraging architects and builders to take up the mantle and push traditional materials to new limits.

3.1 Onjuku Beach House Architect: BAKOKO Location: Onjuku, Japan Year: 2012

3.1.1 Onjuku Beach House exterior view.

Japan’s culture of wood first began in the forests once covering the entire archipelago. Timberbased building practices were refined over the centuries in response to natural disasters and continually shifting administrative centers; adaptable wood systems could be easily adjusted to accommodate these fluctuating circumstances. Entire cities made from timber were constructed for disassembly and transport, an undertaking that required precise methods of measurement and fabrication. The linear nature of the material, combined with a continual need for flexibility, gave rise to hierarchical, modular arrangements of structural components, which formed the basis for standardization and prefabrication.5 Heavy timber construction was perfected over many centuries, and this method

still provides the structural framework for most Japanese homes today. Current market conditions continue to perpetuate the traditional Japanese understanding of buildings not as permanent edifices but as structures made to be replaced or removed. In many urban areas, land is so expensive that development will not increase the value of a residential lot; in fact, homeowners will often pay to demolish their house before putting property on the market. Consequently, houses are not typically expected to last more than 20 years on average. Contemporary post and beam construction is perfectly suited for this economic environment due it is flexibility, affordability, and rapid production time. The Onjuku Beach House demonstrates how

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the post and beam system has been adapted to an industrialized economy without eliminating the possibility of customization and the advantages of employing local labor. The form of the house, while simple, challenges the modularity of the traditional tatami grid and reveals possibilities for modification.6 The house is located in Onjuku, a popular seaside resort and fishing town about one and a half hours by train from Tokyo. Designed by BAKOKO for a Japanese and Australian couple, the vacation home reflects the clients’ desire to combine the relaxed attitude of an Aussie beach shack with Japanese influences. The use of wood, as a finish and as the primary structure, references both of these traditions while also providing a pragmatic and economical method of construction. The beach house clients were conscience of the external market forces that could eventually lead to the demolition of their home; nevertheless they invested in the project with the hope of passing it on to their daughter. The timber structure of the house was produced using precut technology, an automated system

3.1.2 CNC precut timber members.

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of computer numerical control (CNC) machines that process and shape wooden members with a high degree of precision. By using this method of production, individual customized buildings— previously cost-prohibitive due to the manual labor required—could be produced cheaply and on demand. The precut system was developed in the 1950s as a response to the increasing need for housing. The system offered the means for rapidly replicating the interlocking joints typically produced by well-trained daiku, or traditional master woodworkers. During the period of industrialization after World War II, a generation of daiku masters passed away without having trained a large number of apprentices, as many young men had chosen to work in factories. By mechanizing the production of the most technically demanding area of the structure—the joint—precut technology has allowed post and beam construction to maintain its position on the Japanese market, even against lightweight wood framing and prefabricated building components. Japanese architects are very familiar with the precut system. Houses built with this

3.1.3 Structural framing plan.

3.1.4 Timber frame assembly.

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10

7 4 1

6

5

3

2

9 8

1 Genkan entrance 2 storage shed 3 kitchen 4 living / dining 5 hobby room

6 changing room 7 master bedroom 8 outdoor shower 9 Tsubo Niwa (miniature garden) 10 deck

3.1.5 Main floor plan.

process are planned on a 910-millimeter grid, a module based on traditional tatami proportions. Standard Japanese plywood and drywall, sized 910 millimeters by 1820 millimeters, also conform to this system. Here, the architects began by laying out the beach house on the standard grid. Once the computer aided design (CAD) plans were completed, they were sent to a nearby timber mill. There the plans and sections were redrawn as a three-dimensional building information model (BIM) that was used to identify, number, and generate the cut files for each structural framing member. With a few exceptions, the joints produced today closely resemble their traditional counterparts, and rely on interlocking connections. Some of the square

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connections have been rounded in order to facilitate fabrication by a rotating cutter head. Joints are precise enough to prevent separation, but a certain amount of the tolerance allows the framework to flex slightly in response to wind and seismic forces.7 Although the system does not depend on nails or other hardware, Japanese building code now requires metal fasteners, which provides an additional layer of seismic protection. Alastair Townsend of BAKOKO notes that, as with other Japanese traditions, the application of technology has maintained the continuity of certain cultural practices, albeit in a highly altered form.8 Although mechanizing production reduces the need for skilled labor up front, it does not

3.1.6 Living room. preclude daiku or other types of handworkers from participating in the construction process. During the construction of the beach house, one daiku worked full time on the project. Following the delivery of the timber frame, the daiku coordinated the assembly of the structure, which included matching wood members using the numbering system, hoisting them into place, and hammering them together using a wooden mallet. The erection of the main structure took one day to complete and involved the entire project team, regardless of their skill level. In addition to coordinating the construction of the post and beam structure, the daiku was responsible for installing drywall, the cedar siding, and floors as well as fabricating custom casework. Other areas of customization include the windows and doors, which were produced locally, and the atypical form of the house. A deviation from the structural grid required the addition of a truss-like outrigger, permitting the top floor to span over the front porch area without the use of additional columns.

The characteristically open nature of the traditional Japanese house responds to hot and humid conditions by facilitating airflow throughout the structure. The open plan of the beach residence takes advantage of these same principles. Windows on the southern façade can be opened in the warmer months to capture cool ocean breezes, and slotted perforations milled into the wooden balustrade promote air circulation to the upper level of the house. Conversely, timber shutters can slide across the entire southern eave, securely locking down the home to protect it from high winds and torrential downpours during typhoon season. Fully prefabricated homes have been available since the late 1930s, with many well-established companies producing them. The use of precut technology, however, still dominates the Japanese housing market because it can be customized to meet individual tastes and needs. The open frame system allows the infill portion of the house to take on many forms, which can be fabricated using different production methods and installed

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by local manufacturers and carpenters working on site. The downside to the precut method is that much of the wood it uses is imported from countries such as the United States, Australia, and Finland. While efforts to restore local forests have largely been successful, the most common timber native to Japan, sugi, or Japanese cedar,

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is not optimal for use as glued-laminated timber, or glulam, a product frequently employed for precut members. Research is currently underway to improve the performance of Japanese cedar for glulam members so that this abundant, local resource may once again be used for home construction.9

3.2 Hostal Ritoque Architects: Gabriel Rudolphy + Alejandro Soffia Arquitectos Location: Ritoque, Chile Year: 2012

3.2.1 View of Hostal Ritoque from south.

Situated at the base of a steep slope, the Hostal Ritoque overlooks the northern tip of beach stretching from the mouth of the Aconcagua River to Punta Ritoque. When architects Rudolphy and Soffia were asked by their client to design the beach guesthouse within a limited budget, they understood the project would require a different working process than previous undertakings. Rather than setting out to develop a form, the architects began by carefully studying buildings in the area, making note of prevalent materials, construction types, and the technical competence behind their execution. From these examples, the team determined that wood frame construction would not only meet their expectations in terms of cost, but the expertise necessary to achieve quality results could be found in the area.

Steep terrain, Pacific panoramas, and the threat of earthquakes have all influenced the form and construction of older buildings along this portion of Chile’s coast, particularly in the city of Valparaiso, a major port located to the south of Ritoque. An influx of timber in the nineteenth century initiated a shift from loadbearing masonry to more flexible systems comprised of slender wood members, which were often combined with brick infill or simply clad with metal or wood siding. This change allowed construction practices to adapt to the demands of the local environment. The lightweight members could be transported without difficulty and easily modified to follow the area’s steep geography. Moreover, wood framing was inexpensive to produce and quick to assemble; the system’s flexibility also

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made it well suited for areas prone to seismic activity. The introduction of wood framing, with its inherent repetition and modularity, also marked the beginning of an important transition from construction practices dominated by manual labor to methods based on industrially processed materials. As industrialization progressed, quality suffered, and wood subsequently developed a reputation as a substandard building material. Concrete now predominates in most urban areas of Chile, while wood has been relegated to informal housing and emergency shelters. Nevertheless, Chile is currently one of the largest growers and exporters of Pinus radiata, a tree known for its rapid growth and consistent quality. Some architects in the country have begun to reevaluate the advantages of using wood for construction. Rudolphy and Soffia resolved to maximize the architectural potential of this ordinary and inexpensive material by

1

investing time (rather than money) into design and planning. Their methodology was informed by economic necessity as well as a desire to address a wider audience through the development of a compelling, affordable example of wood frame architecture. In response to the terrain, the architects divided the program into five separate living spaces, arranging the long axis of each perpendicular to the hillside. Three of the volumes form twostory guesthouses, which are separated from the owner’s apartment by a common area defined by a kitchen, dining room, and living room, as well as an outdoor terrace. Stairs are suspended between the solid volumes, allowing access to the raised living platforms and additional outdoor terrace space. The architects achieved a sense of privacy and a visual connection to the water by lifting the buildings off the ground plane; a strategy that also protects the living spaces from extreme tidal conditions.

1

2

1 3

4

5

1 guest cabin 2 communal living / dining 3 owner’s residence 4 access road 5 parking / public space

3.2.2 Site plan.

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3.2.3 Exterior view.

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6 7

5

1

3

2

4

1 entry 2 living room 3 dining room 4 balcony

5 kitchen 6 laundry 7 technical 8 deck

3.2.4 Plans and axonometric drawings of communal living spaces.

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8

3.2.5 Wood framing. The logic of the balloon framing system forms the basis for the design: each structural bay is 310 centimeters wide, a dimension determined by the structural capacity of local, rough-sawn pine lumber. The lightweight framing of the upper structure is supported by round, heavy-timber posts that rest on concrete footings. The post structure was reinforced in both directions by diagonal bracing, which resists potential seismic forces. The number of floors in each guesthouse was also limited by the size of available members. After conferring with the structural engineer, the

architects decided that the guesthouse roofs would not be habitable. The additional load would have required larger structural cross-sections, thus increasing construction costs. The team added a communal deck to compensate for the loss of exterior space. Wood planking seamlessly wraps every surface of the hostel. The smooth horizontal paneling that lines the interiors reinforces the spatial orientation toward the ocean. The cladding on the exterior forms a continuous, rough shell, giving an outward impression of protection while still maintaining a sense of lightness. Permeable decking on the patio

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3.2.6 View from guesthouse.

areas retains a sense of continuity with the exterior walls, permitting water to drain unseen onto a sloped roof membrane beneath. The windowless walls defining the long sides of each volume reinforce the sense of enclosure between the living spaces; the lack of openings in this area also conceals a majority of the buildings’ structure, further emphasizing the orientation toward the water. The opaque programmatic elements, such as restrooms and storage areas, are strategically positioned toward the hillside and are used to conceal the structure without breaking the visual continuity of the living spaces. When the structural framing is permitted to surface, it is carefully revealed on the inside of the exterior balcony spaces and as a single cross-brace that marks one window on each floor. The visual richness of the exposed members occurs at the threshold between inside and outside—between the public and private spheres—inviting both

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occupant and visitor to engage the logic of the buildings’ construction. The final cost of construction was around $760 USD per square meter. Soffia notes that cost reductions forced the team to simplify the design, giving them the freedom to devote more time on critical detail development. The refinement of significant details was also informed by working on site with master carpenters.10 By focusing attention on systems and construction methods, the team was able to achieve what they describe as “technical perfection” with modest, rough materials. Through the design of Hostal Ritoque, Rudolphy and Soffia leveraged craftsmanship and simplicity in order to elevate the potential of wood frame construction. For the architects, using common materials and replicable building processes to achieve a high level of architectural resolution demonstrates that quality can be obtained, even in projects of lower cost.

3.3 Niamey 2000 Architect: united4design (Yasaman Esmaili, Elizabeth Golden, Mariam Kamara, Philip Straeter) Location: Niamey, Niger Year: 2016

3.3.1 Niamey 2000 from southwest. Niamey is the capital of Niger and home to over one million inhabitants. The pressures of globalization influencing the city’s growth parallel those affecting other urban centers in West Africa, but Niamey is only now witnessing the same degree of development that has proliferated across the continent. Niger is a landlocked country with a limited amount of capital for building on the scale that its growing population demands. Most industrially produced building materials are imported into the country, inevitability driving up the cost of construction. Nevertheless, several sizable projects have now reached the

planning phase, and Niamey is at a crossroads; the traditional ways of living and working are transforming, along with the built environment. Against the backdrop of globalized development, native resources that were typically used for building in Niger—earth and straw—are now gradually being superseded by cement block and corrugated metal. The average person no longer wishes to live in a house made of mud brick or thatch but strives instead to obtain a home constructed of clean, modern materials. The desire for higher social status plays a role in this shift, as traditional materials carry with them the stigma

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of poverty. The rejection of traditional materials can be at least partially attributed to their poor performance over the last three decades. Repeated drought in the region has led to the scarcity of wood and plants often used for building. Older methods of construction have been forgotten or modified, and the annual custom of repair and replastering has fallen out of favor, leaving many earthen buildings vulnerable to the elements. Lifestyles have changed, and often there is little time to invest in the labor-intensive construction methods upon which previous generations relied. All of these issues have altered Nigerien building practices, and even minimal modifications have substantially affected the durability and performance of natural materials for the long term. Earth, however, has long been essential to several parallel and overlapping building traditions—especially in the Sahel region, where Niger is located. A number of different ethnic groups across the region have influenced and developed a variety of styles and techniques for working with the material. Probably the single most important determinant of earth’s future as a building material will be its continuing cultural acceptance. Historically, Niamey has never been considered an ‘earthen city’ like its urban counterparts, Agadez or Zinder. Its existence is brief in comparison, and the traditional dwellings of its earliest settlements were typically made of lighter materials, such as wood and thatch. More permanent structures such as mosques, as well as the houses of significant community members, however, were commonly constructed from plastered mud brick, locally known as banco. The use of banco was even mandated by the city government in 1926 after a major fire destroyed the thatched dwellings of the area’s inhabitants.11 Since Niger declared its independence from France in 1960, reinforced concrete and cement masonry block have steadily replaced banco and thatch construction. Interest in compressed earth blocks (CEB) has increased in Niamey in recent years, mostly because the bricks offer an affordable alternative to cement masonry blocks. At the same time, the demand for housing has increased in the city, spurred on by population growth and migration. The proliferation of the compound—a single, one-story dwelling surrounded by a perimeter wall—has influenced much of the city’s growth and character.

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While the compound is one of a few housing typologies found in Niger (as well as many other countries) it does not provide the density required to sustain the current level of urban growth. Niamey has yet to see its first large-scale housing project, but it is only a matter of time until investors capitalize on the city’s growing need for living space. The deficit of housing alternatives in Niamey attracted the attention of united4design, an architecture firm with partners hailing from Niger, Iran, Germany, and the United States. The team elected to engage the issue at the local level by developing an alternative model for multi-family housing that would increase density while, at the same time, respect the existing scale of the city and the privacy afforded by the compound wall. The architects proposed to house six families on the same area as a conventional, single-family compound lot (roughly 1,500 square meters). The dwellings were designed to extend over two floors, producing residences unlike most in the city. Lower- and middle-income accommodations are not typically two-story structures, but in a growing urban center such as Niamey, this strategy becomes increasingly relevant as the city expands and commuting distances increase. The living units were closely clustered around courtyards; this tight organization follows older housing configurations found in pre-colonial cities of the region, such as Timbuktu in Mali, Kano in Nigeria, or Zinder in Niger, which were all dense urban centers in their day. Niamey 2000 is named after the neighborhood where it is located and is currently the only densely planned housing estate in the city. Local investors privately funded the project with the goal of selling the units on the open market to middle-class families. Local materials and production methods were used to construct the building and—with the exception of three members of the design team— expertise for the project originated from within the country or neighboring Togo. At the outset, the team made the strategic decision to use earth as the primary material for Niamey 2000. A key goal for the project was to establish a model for urban development that could leverage earth-based construction, not only for its sustainable attributes and its cultural associations, but also for its potential to become an attractive and desirable commodity. Compressed earth block seemed to offer the best method for integrating earth-based construction with the contemporary

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3.3.2 Ground-floor plan and longitudinal section. demands of urban housing. However, despite modest interest in CEB, the system is still far from achieving mainstream acceptance. The architects understood that for CEB technology to succeed beyond Niamey 2000, the material must be proven reliable and profitable, as well as desirable. As a result, the project became a pilot for promoting CEB technology. CEB does have a higher standing than mud brick, while offering many of the same benefits. It can be produced from local soil and performs well thermally in arid environments. In addition, it offers an environmentally friendly alternative to cement block. Even though CEBs are almost always processed in small batches, using manual labor and simple machinery, the blocks have the appearance of an industrial product, with smooth surfaces and consistent dimensions. In terms of cost, once the initial investment for the brick press

is made, CEB can be produced as cheaply as cement block, another material that is often made in small batches using rudimentary methods. CEB construction is not well known in Niger; most engineers are only familiar with conventional structural systems based on steel or reinforced concrete. Due to the complexity of the two-story construction, URBATEC, the most respected engineering firm in Niamey, was enlisted to perform the structural calculations for the project. The engineers were skeptical of the loadbearing capacity of the bricks and opted to add minimal insertions of reinforced concrete to the masonry bearing walls. The addition of concrete was not ideal; however, the architects anticipated that by working with the material and gaining a familiarity with the capacity of CEB masonry, the engineers might be more willing to work with an all-CEB system in the future.

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3.3.3 Compressed earth block construction.

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3.3.4 Southeast corner from street. The architects selected a contractor with previous experience in producing and building with CEB. Once pressed, the blocks were cured for a month before they were used for construction. The project required double-wythe masonry walls in most areas, which totaled 30 centimeters in width. The resultant coursing was not overly complex, nor did it require exceptional skill; however, the workers spent more time and effort than they would have laying concrete masonry. Because of this, several teams left the job for other projects requiring less effort. To avoid this complication on future projects, the architects examined a few alternatives. Wider blocks would simplify construction by reducing the number of units; however, the weight of a block would need to be considered along with its size. A certification process could also be instituted, which would give CEB masons special status, perhaps giving them an edge over unskilled labor.

Niamey 2000 was used not only to introduce CEB construction to the building sector, but also to present the benefits of the material to the general public. Following local preferences, the masonry walls are covered with plaster render. The bricks were left unfinished in select areas, but even when unseen, the material makes its presence known as the masonry’s thickness lends a sense of protection and comfort to the living spaces and slows the transmission of sub-Saharan heat. The depth of the enclosure is perceived through openings in the walls, especially at the thresholds between the interior and the exterior spaces. Masonry screens on the main façades and the staircases hint at the system responsible for supporting the building. It is through small clues that the occupants gain an appreciation for earthen construction. These qualities, along with the project’s contemporary aesthetic, were intended to appeal to the local market.

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3.3.5 Earth masonry vaults.

If left to run its own course, the practice of building with earth in Niger may continue to survive for a few more decades, and for the very poorest individuals living in rural areas, the custom may never fully become extinct. As the country continues to grow and more foreign investors pledge funds for building public as well as private

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infrastructure, large-scale housing projects seem a likely addition to the urban landscape. A few well-conceived projects in the capital, using local expertise and production methods, could set a valuable precedent for building with earth in the future.

3.4 Base Affordable Housing Organization: Base Locations: Iloilo City, Tacloban, and Quezon City (Metro Manila), Philippines Year: 2015––

3.4.1 Two-story duplex in Iloilo City.

According to the World Bank, almost 200 million people living in the East Asia and Pacific region moved to urban areas between 2000 and 2010. A majority of the population, however, still lives in rural areas; consequently, the trend of urban migration is expected to continue for many decades.12 The constant influx of new residents has intensified the pressure on municipalities to provide adequate housing and services for them. In many cases the lack of support for equitable city growth has meant that a significant proportion of the region’s urban poor reside in substandard housing, which is often vulnerable to damage from natural

disasters such as earthquakes and typhoons. This situation is further exacerbated by extreme weather variations brought on by global climate change. In 2012, the Hilti Foundation established an initiative dedicated to the development of sustainable, affordable housing for rapidly urbanizing Asian cities. Due in part to its particularly high rate of urbanization and vulnerability to natural disasters, the Philippines was chosen as the initial site for the project, and the Base foundation was formed to carry out research and development in-country. The organization’s focus on sustainability led them to closely examine native

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resources on the archipelago. Bamboo seemed to offer the most potential in regards to availability, low environmental impact, and cost, while also generating income for Filipino farmers and craftspeople. Base’s working methods are founded on several years of research, which has resulted in the construction of more than 250 units of housing on a number of urban sites. An additional 250 units are planned for the coming years. Bamboo has been utilized for centuries to construct houses in the Philippines. Today, however, its status as ‘poor man’s timber’ has limited its applications to structures located in rural areas, where it is used primarily as an enclosure in the form of woven mats or flattened panels. When used structurally, the quality of the materials and the techniques employed for connecting members can lead to substandard performance—particularly in typhoon conditions—further adding to bamboo’s reputation as an unsafe and unreliable material. In urban areas, bamboo construction is typically relegated to informal shelters and non-structural applications. When the Base team began their research, the possibility of utilizing bamboo construction for urban housing had not been adequately studied in the Philippines. In addition, knowledge related to the material’s behavior in disaster-prone contexts was limited. In order to scale up bamboo-based construction systems for the affordable housing market, the organization would not only need to document and understand the technical aspects of the material but the economic, social, political, and environmental dimensions as well. The team began their investigation by studying native bamboo propagation and construction practices, as well as local material preferences. The team also examined case studies in Latin America and Europe to determine the feasibility of exploiting forestry products for housing. In addition, Base consulted with a number of professionals involved in other affordable housing projects in the Philippines. Data gathered from these focused studies later informed the development and implementation of the organization’s bamboo housing prototypes. From their interviews with bamboo builders and farmers, the team learned that the number of skilled bamboo craftspeople was dwindling, due in part to changes in building practices favoring industrially produced materials such as concrete block. Bamboo was also falling out of favor because it was less likely to provide an additional

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source of income for farmers, as it had in the past. These findings underscored the importance of including skills training and market development in the construction process. To better understand local perceptions of the material, the team interviewed individuals living in bamboo houses. The results reinforced assumptions that many people consider steel and concrete buildings to be safer, more modern, and easier to maintain than bamboo structures. Because the material was most likely to be used out of economic necessity, it was frequently associated with poverty. Clearly, bamboo’s image would need to be improved, not only in terms of its performance and durability but also in terms of its appearance. Housing made from bamboo would most likely be rejected if it resembled a traditional dwelling rather than a modern one. The team also reviewed data documenting the barriers to and opportunities for using forestry products to build housing. Base drew inspiration from two examples: bamboo construction in Latin America and timber frame construction in Europe. The Latin American example was particularly applicable as it offered a potential solution for improving the durability and stability of bamboo systems in the Philippines. The method, called bahareque, proliferated in Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru for many centuries. The system consists of a bamboo stud framework that is covered with flattened bamboo, or lath, and then coated with a protective layer of lime or cement plaster. Bahareque was used primarily by indigenous populations for constructing houses, and proved to be so robust that structures constructed by this method were found to be less likely to collapse during earthquakes. Its reputation for exceptional seismic performance ultimately led to modern-day testing in 2002 and bahareque’s inclusion in the Colombian building code. The case of timber frame construction in Europe also offered the organization some important lessons regarding bamboo systems and construction processes. Timber, like bamboo, is a renewable resource, and the thinking was that the same principles that advanced the market for wood-based building products in Europe could potentially be applied to the development of the bamboo building industry in Asia. The recent increase of wood construction in Europe can be attributed to a combination of the material’s low environmental impact and the flexibility of

3.4.2 Cement bamboo frame construction. timber systems, but demand has also been driven by cost. Prefabrication has been employed by the wood industry to reduce time and waste, as well as improve quality, thus making wood systems competitive with concrete and steel. By contrast, the potential of whole culm bamboo as a marketable building material has yet to be fully explored. To round out their understanding of affordable housing in the Philippines, the Base team surveyed several individuals from local housing organizations, as well as homeowners and policy makers. Architects, engineers, and material suppliers involved in home construction were also consulted. From these groups, Base learned that cost was a major incentive to considering alternative methods for housing construction. Using new methods could cause problems for individuals seeking home financing. Convincing potential homeowners to invest would mean proving that the homes were reliable, especially when exposed to fire or typhoons. Furthermore, using more bamboo for home construction would

necessitate scaling up existing supply chains in order to meet the additional demand. Nevertheless, by building affordable urban housing with materials grown by rural farmers, Base would assist two lowincome groups often targeted by government aid programs. The team used the information gathered from their initial investigations to define a development and implementation plan that focused on improving and verifying the performance of bamboo systems, upgrading the material supply chain, as well as strengthening connections with affordable housing stakeholders. The team adopted certain elements of the bahareque system that were found to be applicable for the Philippines, with the addition of fire- and typhoon-resistant components. To encourage local assimilation, the team chose to name the new system “cement bamboo frame” (CBF). Base selected CBF for development because houses fabricated with this system could be finished to look exactly like concrete block homes—a layer of cement plaster on the exterior covers the bamboo framework. Plaster protects the

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bamboo, improving durability and fire resistance as well as reducing the need for maintenance. With the CBF system, Base could fulfill the demand for affordable, safe, and durable shelter, while also suiting the local preference for modern-looking housing. Due to differences in the type of bamboo available in the Philippines, the Colombian code was found to be inapplicable. Therefore, it was necessary for Base to conduct testing of the raw material as well as the CBF construction system, which was carried out at the Research Institute of the Philippines. The team used the results from the material testing to specify criteria for determining the strength, quality, and treatment methods for the native bamboo species. The standards developed during this process would later influence building performance and cost. The team also studied the performance of the CBF construction system. For this, the team turned to full-size prototypes and digital modeling. A series of wall sections with connections were developed, and were evaluated taking cost, maintenance, and ease of construction into consideration. House prototypes and digital modeling proved useful for predicting building behavior during typhoons and for determining

3.4.3 Prefabricated bamboo elements after installation.

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thermal performance. Three full-scale houses were built in Bicol, one of the most typhoon-prone regions in the Philippines. The houses suffered only minor damage after hurricane Glenda, having withstood 185 km per hour winds. Beyond improving the CBF system, establishing a sustainable supply of construction-grade bamboo was critical to the overall viability of the program. In the Philippines, bamboo is usually grown in small quantities on farms scattered across the country. As a result, Base faced the task of identifying and developing relationships with a broad network of bamboo suppliers. The team located farms through field surveys and aerial mapping, and connections were made with farmers. The team trained growers to identify bamboo that met the newly established criteria for strength and quality. Growers were also taught by the organization how to properly dry, treat, and store the bamboo culms. The training program not only increased the reliability and quality of the materials, but it also assisted farmers in establishing a steady source of income based on the cultivation of structural-grade bamboo. After testing and establishing a reliable supply of bamboo, Base continued on to develop three housing types with the CBF system: a single-story stand-alone bungalow, single-story row houses,

3.4.4 Home interior.

and a two-story duplex. All three types rely on conventional reinforced concrete foundations and are constructed using bamboo stud walls. After installation, the walls are covered with wire mesh

and then plastered. The houses are constructed with prefabricated bamboo elements, a method that allows for large portions of the construction to be completed under cover, out of the hot Philippine sun and unpredictable rains. With fewer weatherrelated delays, construction time is accelerated. Working under cover also permits greater control over the quality of construction and facilitates worker training and oversight. By centralizing and standardizing production, Base continues to expand the skills of native craftspeople, while bringing bamboo-based construction closer to industry standards. The organization’s careful process of development and implementation resulted in the successful execution of several housing projects in diverse locations, such as Iloilo City and the Bagong Silangan district of Manila. Base works closely with other Philippine aid organizations, such as those representing low-income communities and individuals forced to relocate after natural disasters. These partnerships insure that the organization remains responsive to the needs of potential homeowners. In addition, post-occupancy surveys are conducted regularly to document areas requiring further development and improvement. The organization’s multi-pronged approach has allowed them to increase production and build with bamboo on a scale that is unprecedented in modern times. The hybrid system developed by the organization brings many advantages, from supporting the rural economy to providing disasterresilient homes.13

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3.5 ModCell Straw Technology Research: BRE Centre for Innovative Construction Materials, University of Bath Architect: White Design Location: United Kingdom Year: 2001–

3.5.1 Panel assembly.

Crop-derived building materials have long been a part of the rural landscape of the United Kingdom. Thatch roofs and traditional cob-style houses still dot the countryside, attesting to a time when agriculture was the center of daily life and commerce. Thatch provided the lightest form of roofing, which proved useful in areas were wood was scarce; less weight meant rafters and trusses could be constructed from smaller elements using less material. Straw was readily available and inexpensive, making it one of the most popular building materials over successive generations. The threat of fire and the decline in agricultural activity has resulted in the slow disappearance of straw and other crop-based materials over many centuries. From the 1970s onward, these resources were primarily used for the repair and renovation of traditional building stock. Straw and hemp, now commonly referred to as cellulose-based materials, have surfaced once again as potential construction materials in part due to their low embodied carbon and capacity to act both as insulation and thermal mass within an integrated composite system.

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Over the last 30 years, regulatory authorities in the United Kingdom have introduced energy policies that require the reduction over time of the carbon emissions produced by buildings. In 2007, the government announced new regulations requiring all homes to meet the Zero Carbon Standard. In order to meet this requirement, homes need to be designed to mitigate all carbon emissions produced on site as a result of energy use. This is achieved both by improving the fabric performance of the building and by producing low/ zero carbon heat and power on site.14 Although this policy aimed to reduce carbon emissions caused by homeowner operations, it did not account for the embodied carbon associated with the initial production of the building itself. As a larger number of buildings are designed for peak energy efficiency and their related carbon emissions are reduced, attention is shifting to the environmental impact of building materials. Evidence also suggests that higher performing buildings demand greater levels of material use, further supporting the argument for low-carbon

products with energy-saving properties. Straw— and modular straw bale panels in particular—fulfill both of these criteria, while also offering an efficient and rapid method of construction. At the same time, however, a litigious business environment in many Western countries has produced a riskaverse construction industry, thus necessitating the need for building products with established performance data. This has often hindered the acceptance of traditional building materials such as straw and earth, as their performance is frequently undocumented or not well understood. In addition, high costs and a lack of technical knowledge and client familiarity are also primary barriers to mainstream adoption of these materials. The development of ModCell, a loadbearing straw bale panel, highlights the obstacles that face a new product prior to its acceptance by the construction industry and the mainstream marketplace. Over the last decade, the ModCell system has been the subject of academic research intent on establishing a credible record of performance data for the product. ModCell panels have been used for constructing several mid-sized buildings in the United Kingdom, which, along with testing and simulation, has also increased the technical knowledge of the system’s behavior. Developed by architect Craig White and engineer Tim Mander as a cladding panel in the early 2000s, ModCell was initially conceived to be a superinsulated product made from low-carbon materials. The system was later modified to become a loadbearing wall panel consisting of a straw bale core supported by a structural timber frame. The product is now marketed as a prefabricated building element, which not only addresses the problems inherent to straw bale construction, such as time, structural limitations, and predictability, but also gives ModCell an edge over other building products on the market. Prefabrication allows for just-in-time delivery, freeing up space on the building site and protecting the straw from inclement weather. The ModCell “Traditional” prefabricated panels are constructed using glue-laminated, crosslaminated, or softwood timber members that act as the primary structural elements carrying all vertical loads. The addition of the timber frame increases the structural predictability of the straw bales and creates a product with consistent dimensions. The frame is filled with compressed straw bales that are stacked in a running bond pattern. Wooden stakes are driven into the bales at intervals to insure that

the bales remain in position and to connect them to the frame. The width of the bales determines the size of the panels and their divisions. A typical “three-bale” panel measures 320 centimeters wide and is 260 to 290 centimeters in height, with a depth ranging from 40 to 48 centimeters; however, customized panel sizes and shapes are also possible. The panel is subdivided following the bale module in order to provide openings, which are framed to full height. After the panels are filled, steel rods are installed at the edges of the openface frame, forming cross-bracing that, in addition to the rendered straw infill, helps to resist lateral forces. ModCell now offers a range of prefabricated panels that come finished either with traditional lime render or other materials. ModCell “Core” panels, for example, use glulam as the frame and are divided by joists at 60 centimeters center and filled with straw. The panels are enclosed with vapor-permeable sheathing and oriented strand board. The development of ModCell began at the University of the West of England and continues at the University of Bath. The initial round of research and development included fire, structural, acoustic, and thermal performance testing of single panels. The second phase was conducted using a full-scale building constructed from ModCell panels. The research team monitored a prototype, called the BaleHaus at Bath, which they evaluated over a two-year period for moisture penetration, sound insulation capacity, air permeability, and thermal performance. Constructing the prototype contributed to the team’s understanding of structural performance as well as assembly procedures and detailing for an entire building. The team also used digital modeling to predict structural behavior and the resulting calculations were compared against the findings from the prototype testing, which ultimately validated the accuracy of the digital models.15 Physical testing and digital modeling provided ModCell with quality assurance and demonstrated that the product meets important safety standards. ModCell is certified by Chiltern International to meet a 135-minute fire rating. The panels also received the Q-Mark certificate from BM Trada, a certification body responsible for assessing construction products. In addition, the Passive House Institute has validated and certified the energy performance of ModCell’s Core Passiv system, which opens up a new market for the product. These third-party accreditations validate

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3.5.2 BaleHaus. the credibility and quality of the ModCell system under names that the United Kingdom building industry recognizes. Certification also allows homebuilders and developers to easily insure and secure mortgages for construction using ModCell. Another important step in removing barriers to ModCell’s acceptance on the commercial market was accelerating the design and delivery of the panels. The development of an accurate digital structural model has streamlined the study of different panel configurations, thus permitting a greater variety of building forms and layouts. For example, the digital model was used to facilitate the design and delivery of LILAC, a 20-unit cohousing community in Leeds with five floor-plan variations. Also expediting as well as simplifying production and delivery of the ModCell system is the “Flying Factory,” which uses local skills, labor, and materials. This method is based on the Japanese just-in-time manufacturing and delivery system called KanBan. A large percentage of the ModCell panel consists of local straw, as the

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resource is abundant and widely available in the United Kingdom (and many other countries). The ModCell frame, however, is made from timber that is usually cut, flat-packed, and imported to the United Kingdom. The transportability of the timber frame and the prevalence of straw allow panel fabrication to occur in close proximity to most building sites. A common construction scenario begins by identifying a temporary manufacturing facility close to the construction site—often a barn or shed on the farm supplying the straw for the panels.16 Shortening the transport distance of the panels lowers carbon emissions and reduces construction time and cost. In addition, producing the panels under cover insures a higher quality product and decreases construction waste. Working with the construction giant Skanska, ModCell’s Flying Factory has been used to deliver a modular school for the Bristol city council. The method proved so successful that the school was completed in just 11 weeks—a 50 percent reduction in the time required to build a comparable school with other methods.

3.5.3 LILAC cohousing.

In establishing creditability and developing expedited design and delivery methods, the ModCell system has proven it can meet the demands of the contemporary marketplace, provided it can be produced at a reasonable price. ModCell has recently constructed two market rate housing developments with the developers Connolly and Callaghan. In 2014/15, the company helped to build seven townhouses in the Shirehampton district of Bristol, which were touted as the United Kingdom’s first straw bale homes sold on the open market. The development is composed of two 2-bedroom and five 4-bedroom units, which were priced at £220,000 ($330,000) and £235,000 ($350,000) respectively. The exterior enclosure of the Shirehampton housing was constructed with ModCell panels, which rest on wooden rails embedded into the reinforced concrete foundation. Highly insulated, lightweight wood framing was used for the roof, floor deck, and interior partition walls. Each unit took approximately 4.5 days to build, thanks to ModCell’s efficient prefabrication and delivery system. Another advantage of the panel assembly is that it can be clad with almost any material— for the Shirehampton site, the team selected red brick for the exterior of the townhomes and tile for the roof. At Rochester Road, also in Bristol and completed in 2016, ModCell constructed seven homes in much the same way as at Shirehampton,

3.5.4 Section showing ModCell units clad with brick.

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3.5.5 Shirehampton homes. save for the façades, which were finished with plaster render. From the outside (and on the interior) both projects look like typical homes in their respective neighborhoods, even though they are made from what some might consider as unconventional materials. Many of the reasons for building with straw are the same today as they were for previous generations. The material is plentiful, lightweight, and offers an excellent level of thermal insulation. The ModCell system has been designed to take advantage of these benefits, while mitigating many of the problems traditionally associated with the material. The result is a high-performing building component that could eventually see widespread

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distribution. ModCell is currently involved in planning and implementing over 100 housing units in addition to a number of schools, community, office, and commercial buildings. The company also has plans to expand their market by licensing their product in other countries. According to Finlay White, the marketing and operations director of ModCell, the company views the panel production process as a model for manufacturing that can easily adapt to regulatory environments and resource systems found in different parts of the world.17 This is an interesting prospect to consider as it promises a global method of manufacturing supported by local materials and practices.

3.6 Ricola Kräuterzentrum (Herb Center) Architect: Herzog & de Meuron Location: Laufen, Switzerland Year: 2014

3.6.1 Ricola Kräuterzentrum from southwest.

Over the centuries, the Swiss city of Laufen has built a reputation as a center of ceramic production, due in part to superior mineral resources and its location on the Bir River. Romans settling in the area were the first to fire clay excavated from pits. During the late 1800s local manufacturers began making bricks, drains, and tiles on an industrial scale. Today the area is known for its high-quality ceramic production, mostly in the form of bathroom fixtures. Laufen’s inhabitants have transformed the area’s resources and these, in turn, have influenced the growth and development of the region. Located on the outskirts of Laufen, the Kräuterzentrum stands in stark contrast to other

industrial facilities in the vicinity. As an alternative to the ubiquitous utilitarian shed, the rawness of the building forms a connection to the region’s elemental geology. When Herzog & de Meuron selected earth as a primary building material for the Kräuterzentrum, the relationship between the material and the history of the area became an important part of the project narrative, reinforcing the notion that the building and its contents have been produced using indigenous, time-honored techniques and ingredients. Owing to its growing reputation as a natural, healthy, low-impact material, earth also became a way to physically embody Ricola’s corporate identity as an

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3.6.2 Ground-floor plan and longitudinal section. environmentally responsible company. For Ricola, the value of these associations, together with the material’s energy-saving properties, justified the additional cost related to constructing the façade. The manufacturer Ricola is most known for the production of cough drops containing a blend of 13 herbs, which are cultivated exclusively in alpine regions of Switzerland. In a move to centralize production and strengthen public relations, the firm elected to build a single facility containing

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operations for drying, cutting, mixing, and storing herbs, together with a visitor gallery. This decision resulted in the largest earthen building in Europe, which is made with approximately 700 prefabricated, rammed earth elements. The dimensions of the building and its location within a seismic zone precluded the use of structural rammed earth; the material is able to resist compressive loads but has little to no tensile capacity. Consequently, the core structure for the Kräuterzentrum is a reinforced concrete frame that

stabilizes the 45-centimeter thick, self-supporting enclosure. The physical properties of rammed earth support the key operations of herb processing and storage by regulating interior moisture and temperature levels, thereby reducing energy consumption. The material insures a consistent year-round temperature and humidity level; no other source of heating or cooling is required in the storage and drying rooms. In areas requiring higher temperatures, such as the offices and the cutting room, a 20-centimeter-thick masonry wall was added to the inside face of the rammed earth enclosure, leaving a cavity for 20 centimeters of insulation. Residual heat from the confectionery production facility is delivered to these spaces by way of hydronic tubes installed in the floor and roof slab. Earth construction specialist, Martin Rauch, was responsible for detailing, producing, and assembling the earth components of the Kräuterzentrum. Rauch has worked more than a decade to improve earth construction technology. His first use of the prefabricated panel system on a large scale began with the Gugler Printing Plant, in Austria, constructed in 1999. Traditional rammed earth construction is typically a laborintensive procedure that involves tamping down successive layers of earth in formwork. Rammed earth is difficult to execute in inclement weather and can be damaged by freezing temperatures. Prefabrication streamlines this process and removes many of the complications related to construction on site. In addition, quality can be carefully monitored, production time is more predictable, and fabrication does not hinder other on-site construction activities. Prefabricated earth panels have been used not only for Kräuterzentrum but also for the Agricultural School Mezzana and the Swiss Ornithological Institute. For Ricola and the Swiss Ornithological Institute, the panels were produced in an industrial hall located in Zwingen—roughly 3 kilometers from the Ricola site—using clay, gravel, and marl sourced within a 10-kilometer radius. The production, drying, and assembly of the panels took roughly one year. To fabricate rammed earth panels with the least amount of human labor, Rauch’s company, Lehm Ton Erde, has developed a machine that automatically delivers the soil mixture to the formwork. A mechanical tamper moves along a track and compacts each layer as the soil

is delivered. Rather than tamping the panels individually, an entire wall is fabricated at once and then cut into single units. This accelerates production and creates the appearance of a uniform wall surface once the pieces are reassembled in their final position. The system can produce panels with a thickness ranging from 18 to 80 centimeters. Even though this system automates much of the panel production process, tamping by hand is still required in certain instances.18 For the Kräuterzentrum, the panels were formed by compacting 16 individual layers of soil, which was stabilized by adding roughly 30 percent local clay to the mixture. The size and shape of the panels were modified for atypical situations, such as the areas adjacent to the round windows, but the typical panel size was 1.3 meters high by 3.36 meters long, with each weighing roughly five tons. These dimensions were based on the carrying capacity of the crane and other requirements involving transportation to the site. After drying, the panels were packed, carefully lifted onto a truck, and transported to the site. The construction team then assembled panels using an earth-based mortar. The final step to achieving the façade’s monolithic surface was to moisten, fill, and tamp the seams between elements. The rammed earth was left bare on the exterior and finished with an earth render on the interior to insure sanitary conditions in the production areas. Openings in the walls presented some interesting challenges, as the material is only capable of handling compression forces. Tensile and bending stresses introduced by rectangular openings for doors required the use of concrete lintels. A different strategy was used for the larger openings punctuating each face of the building. Their porthole form distributes loads through compression only, thus mitigating the need for additional spanning elements. The exterior of the Kräuterzentrum was designed to be directly exposed to the elements. For this type of rammed earth construction, the amount of erosion due to weathering can be calculated based on several factors such as wall height and exposure to weather. A light rain shower will have little effect on the surface of the wall, as the material has the capacity to absorb and release small amounts of water. When the panel is exposed to larger amounts of water—from a downpour, for example—clay minerals swell, hindering absorption through the entire thickness of the wall.19 Once this

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3.6.3a Prefabricated rammed earth panels.

3.6.3b Panel installation.

3.6.3c Filling and tamping seams between panels.

3.6.3d Earth render application on interior.

stage is reached, the residual water runs down the surface of the wall carrying particles with it. Under these conditions, larger aggregate will remain fixed, but finer minerals will erode away over time. This process is extremely slow and can be further delayed by the addition of horizontal bands of stone, tile, or, in the case of the Kräuterzentrum, trass lime elements placed at intervals of 65 centimeters.20 Even with automated production methods and standardized practices, the fabrication of the façade of the Kräuterzentrum still required a considerable amount of labor and time. In addition, the loadbearing capacity of the material was not utilized for the primary structure of the building. These shortfalls notwithstanding, the use of earth pushes the boundaries of standard building practices in a highly industrialized context. By making earth construction technology more compatible with contemporary construction systems and regulations, the Kräuterzentrum has

demonstrated the technical possibilities of the material within Europe, especially for larger-scale projects. The project marks an important milestone in the standardization of earth building practices, one happily made without sacrificing the visual and haptic qualities of the material.

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Notes 1 Matthew Ulterino and Eric Bloom, “Materials in Green Buildings,” report, Navigant Consulting, Inc., Chicago, IL, 2013, 3. 2 George R. H. Wright, Ancient Building in South Syria and Palestine (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1985), 351. 3 These standards apply only to manufactured bricks and mortar with no additional stabilizing agents, such as cement.

4 “Naturally good” is Ricola’s current advertising slogan. 5 Thomas Bock and Thomas Linner, Robotic Industrialization: Automation and Robotic Technologies for Customized Component, Module, and Building Prefabrication (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 99. 6 The configuration of tatami, straw mats employed as a floor covering, were traditionally used to determine the size and composition of rooms in Japanese homes. 7 Ibid., 113. 8 Alastair Townsend (partner, BAKOKO), in discussion with the author, Seattle, WA, October 29, 2015. 9 Tomoyuki Hayashi and Atsushi Miyatake, “Recent Research and Development on Sugi (Japanese Cedar) Structural Glued Laminated Timber,” Journal of Wood Science 61, no. 4 (August 2015): 337–342. 10 Gabriel Rudolphy and Alejandro Soffia (architects), quoted in material provided by architects, Santiago, Chile. 11 Scott M. Youngstedt, Surviving with Dignity: Hausa Communities of Niamey, Niger (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2013), 36. 12 International Bank for Reconstruction and Development/The World Bank, “East Asia’s Changing Urban Landscape: Measuring a Decade of Spatial Growth,” report, World Bank, Washington, DC, 2015, xv.

Engineers: Structures and Buildings 168, no. 1 (2015): 67–75. 16 ModCell panels are either fabricated in a local “Flying Factory” or in a central manufacturing unit. ModCell panels used for housing projects must be fabricated in one of three central manufacturing facilities that have undergone an audit by an ISO certification body. Homes must comply with the ISO 9001 quality management standard in order to be eligible for bank financing. 17 Finlay White (marketing and operations director, ModCell Straw Technology), in discussion with the author via Skype, December 20, 2016. 18 Otto Kapfinger and Marko Sauer, Martin Rauch: Gebaute Erde Gestalten & Konstruieren mit Stampflehm (Munich: Institut für internationale Architektur-Dokumentation GmbH & Co. KG, 2015), 119–120. 19 Martin Rauch, “Fertigbauteile aus Lehm,” Tec21 Schweizerische Bauzeitung 139, no. 29–30 (2013): 19–21. 20 Trass is a type of volcanic ash, which, when mixed with slaked lime and water, forms a concrete-like material. Trass lime elements are water resistant and require less energy to produce than their cement-based counterparts.

13 Corinna Salzer, Holger Wallbaum, Luis Felipe Lopez, and Jean Luc Kouyoumji, “Sustainability of Social Housing in Asia: A Holistic Multi-Perspective Development Process for Bamboo-Based Construction in the Philippines,” Sustainability 8, no. 151 (2016): 1–26; Corinna Salzer also provided additional information for this section through edits and discussions with the author via Skype, October 20 and November 3, 2016. 14 The Zero Carbon Standard was discontinued by the UK government in July 2015. 15 Chris Gross, Daniel Maskell, Tim Mander, Peter Walker, Katharine Wall, and Andrew Thomson, “Structural Development and Testing of a Prototype House Using Timber and Straw Bales,” Proceedings of the Institution of Civil

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Taylor & Francis Taylor & Francis Group http:/taylorandfrancis.com

4 Local Engagement

4.1 Members of the Women’s Opportunity Center construction team.

As the previous chapter made clear, the standardization and mass production of building components has resulted in great benefits for the construction industry in terms of increasing speed, efficiency, and predictability while minimizing material and labor costs. By contrast, building with unprocessed, raw resources and employing manual methods of fabrication or assembly requires an intense amount of physical labor. This is generally considered a disadvantage, especially in industrialized contexts, as returning to older methods of production defies the established logic of contemporary construction. There are, however, certain advantages to be found in the use of raw resources and labor-intensive working methods, especially when these involve the collective participation of the wider community for which a building is built. In these scenarios, materials are more than just inert mediums for construction, and manual processes are less an energy drain than an opportunity for engagement: both have the capacity to encourage social interaction and influence people’s lives in positive ways. Reliance on domestic resources can increase the value of those resources and thus the overall wealth of a region. In addition, time-consuming, labor-intensive production methods can stimulate the local economy through the creation of jobs. Training in the manual trades provides skills that can be used beyond the duration of a single project. An expansion of homegrown expertise has the potential to improve the overall quality of construction, which, in turn, can positively influence property values, locally, and in neighboring communities. In each case, the building process serves not only as an economic driver but also introduces an important opportunity for social expression and self-actualization. Economic globalization has had a profound impact on the social aspects of building construction and maintenance. The substitution of industrial products for locally produced ones has initiated significant social transformations, mainly within traditional societies. Studies of communities in Kenya and Somalia, for example, have shown that social relationships once formed during the materials collection, building construction, and annual repair processes disappeared after the introduction of concrete blocks and corrugated iron to the region. Purchased goods eliminated the need for the gathering and processing of raw materials, activities that typically afforded women social opportunities and independence, as well as control

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over materials and construction.1 Introducing (or reintroducing) practices that capitalize on a material’s potential to generate social interaction and exchange may benefit a specific project but, more importantly, can also provide new opportunities for previously disenfranchised groups. During the construction of the Women’s Opportunity Center in Rwanda [4.4], for example, women from the local community were trained and given control of masonry production. They performed every task, from excavating clay to molding and drying bricks. The female masons were so successful in their efforts that they later established a brickmaking cooperative that continues to supply masonry components for other projects in the area. The creators of Common Ground [4.3], a workforce housing development in the United States, also leveraged manual labor to promote social interaction. Looking for a way to include individuals with varying skill levels in the building process, they elected to use straw bale construction, a method that is relativity simple to assemble. Working with straw bales allowed individuals to band together to build their homes, creating social connections even before the neighborhood was complete. In addition, the owners’ investment of sweat equity reduced construction costs, a significant facet of affordable housing development.

Communication In the past, knowledge of materials and construction was passed down from one generation to the next. In some societies, that transfer of knowledge was facilitated by professional organizations formed around certain activities, such as brickmaking and masonry. Often the same individual who planned a project was also responsible for its construction. This tradition of master builder is still practiced in Djenné, Mali, where masons are recognized as important community figures responsible for maintaining the city’s infrastructure.2 Djenné’s masons are an exception, however, and a lack of skilled labor has resulted in a decline, both in quantity and quality, of buildings made from local resources, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa. In Europe, trade guilds still exist in some regions, but in many industrialized countries, modern systems have entirely replaced

older methods of construction and the tradition of passing expertise from generation to generation has gradually faded away. This loss of indigenous knowledge and skills requires architects to rethink their working methods when communicating their design intentions to a given workforce. Methods and materials may be unfamiliar to potential workers, as may the conventions of construction drawings. To insure clarity of intention and ease of construction, some architects have developed communication strategies dependent on demonstration or “adaptive constructive logic.”3 When working in Burkina Faso, Francis Kéré, for example, frequently creates full-scale mock-ups on the construction site in order to experiment with and demonstrate how a material will behave under various conditions [4.1]. These 1:1 models help to allay the concerns—of the workers and the community at large—about the structural soundness and durability of a construction system, while also providing an opportunity to train a new workforce in unfamiliar techniques. A similar strategy was used to convey best practices to the villagers of Ma’anqiao in Sichuan, China, after the devastating earthquake of 2008 [4.6]. Using an entire structure as a demonstration project, villagers learned improved methods for building with rammed earth while constructing a courtyard dwelling. They were subsequently able to apply these same principles in rebuilding their own homes. This model was so successful that the reconstruction of most houses was completed in only three months. In Ecuador, Al Borde uses their understanding of material systems to simplify

construction, not only to accommodate untrained labor but also to eliminate reliance on electricity and expensive power tools. The architects’ designs for the Nueva Esperanza school and Esperanza Dos are based on efficient geometries, which facilitated construction and encouraged replication by the Cabuyal community, where the projects are located [4.5]. Training can also better equip architects when working with unfamiliar materials such as bamboo or earth, thus influencing design decisions and communication methods. Part of the mission of the Philippine design/ build program Estudio Damgo [4.2] is to raise awareness about the benefits of bamboo by using it in the construction of public buildings in rural communities. Architecture students who participate in the program receive training from bamboo carpenters, who teach them enough to competently design and build with the material on their own. With their newfound knowledge, the students are able to effectively inform the communities with which they work about the possibilities of building durable, long-lasting structures made of bamboo. In the case studies that follow, the architect plays an important part in (re)establishing connections between communities and their immediate resources. The feedback loop, which develops as the architect observes and responds to conditions found in the field, informs the design as well as the construction sequence. The knowledge gained from this exchange can be passed on and used by individuals to transform their environment for the better.

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4.1 Opera Village and Center for Health Care and Social Promotion Architect: Kéré Architecture Location: Laongo, Burkina Faso Year: 2013

4.1.1 Bird’s eye view of future Opera Village. The Opera House for Africa was the brainchild of the late German film and theater director Christoph Schlingensief. His initial intention for the project was to challenge the conventional notions of a Western cultural institution by building an intercultural meeting place for local and international artists. The construction of a worldclass performance venue would bring attention to Burkina Faso as a center for African film and theater. During the course of its development, the project attracted many supporters, but there were also those who were critical of the idea of building an opera house in one of world’s poorest countries. Even Francis Kéré, the Burkinabe architect responsible for designing the project, was skeptical at first.4 In September 2009, Burkina Faso faced the worst flooding it had experienced in 90 years, causing thousands of families living in and around

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the capital city of Ouagadougou to lose their homes. This disaster changed the course of the project: the initial site selected for the building had been washed away, and the task of providing shelter for flood survivors seemed more pressing, and appropriate, than constructing an opera house. Schlingensief responded to the catastrophe by proposing that Kéré develop a housing prototype. This request inspired the architect to expand the opera from a single building to a central gathering space at the heart of an entirely new community, which would later be called the Opera Village. The village would provide not only housing but also a school, a medical clinic, vegetable gardens, a restaurant, and artists’ workshops. The enterprise would be self-sufficient, run by locals, and serve surrounding communities as well as Opera Village staff and visitors. Together, Kéré and Schlingensief envisioned a

4.1.2 Center for Health Care and Social Promotion from northwest. growing community where connections between the arts and everyday life would be accentuated and celebrated. For the new proposal, Schlingensief and the team settled on a five-hectare site located approximately 30 kilometers northeast of Ouagadougou, near the village of Laongo. Donated by the local government, the land for the project was selected primarily for its bowl-shaped form, which spatially reinforced the desire for a central gathering place. Although Kéré had planned the performance theater as the anchor of the village, the school, cafeteria, sound studio, and living quarters were the first to be constructed. Subsequent construction included artists’ residences, offices, and the clinic. As of 2016, the project’s sponsors have constructed 16 buildings on the site and fundraising for the performance theater is underway. The Center for Health Care and Social Promotion was positioned on the periphery of the Opera Village in order to minimize disturbances caused by daily activities and to take advantage of unobstructed views of the landscape. The 800-meter facility opened in 2014 and was designed to meet the medical, obstetric, and

dental care needs of roughly 5,000 individuals living in the surrounding areas. The design of the Opera Village takes its cues from the cellular organization of traditional Burkinabe compounds, which are configured to expand and contract with the needs of their inhabitants. The clinic follows this same modular organization, with the examination rooms, inpatient wards, and staff offices arranged in clusters surrounding a series of inner courtyards. Each courtyard promotes airflow to adjacent examination rooms and also provides shady waiting areas for patients and their visiting families. This is an important feature given the fact that temperatures can reach 50 degrees Celsius during the dry season. From the exterior, the seemingly impenetrable volume is punctuated by a haphazard array of concave apertures. From the interior, the same openings frame various views from a standing, sitting, or lying position and also permit controlled daylight to enter the compound. As with most of Kéré’s previous projects built in his home country, the clinic was constructed using primarily local materials and labor; the project’s remote location and limited budget made the decision to use native resources a logical

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4.1.3 Ground-floor plan.

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8 waiting room 9 maternity / gynecology ward 10 dentist 11 storage 12 pharmacy 13 warden’s quarters

4.1.4 Building section.

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1 rain gutter: double layered sheet metal 1mm 2 truss: steel rebar 3 lost formwork with corrugated metal S15 100 mm 4 reinforced ring beam 30 x 30 cm 5 double layer wall: hollow concrete block, waterproofed + compressed earth block 30 cm 6 window unit, reinforced concrete 7 floor exterior: compacted earth, laterite blocks + cement mortar 8 floor interior: compacted earth, concrete slab, screed, cement mortar, slip resistant tiles 15 x 15 cm 9 stone footing

4.1.5 Exterior wall section.

one. Other than cement and metal (for the roof, window frames, and reinforcement), only native materials sourced directly from the site were used in construction. For centuries, earth has been an important building material in the region, and Kéré makes a point of connecting back to this tradition. At the same time, he also recognizes that older practices require updating in order to meet contemporary needs. To this end, the architect uses compressed earth block (CEB) as a stand-in for traditional mud brick. Like its predecessor, CEB can be produced on site from local soil, but the blocks are stabilized with cement and formed by a mechanical press, resulting in a more durable, uniform product that requires less maintenance. The region is rich in laterite, a soil that hardens when exposed to air, making it particularly well suited for unfired bricks. Its high iron oxide content gives the earth masonry of the clinic its particular ocher shade. Initially blocks for the clinic were purchased locally, but once workers received training they produced their own blocks on site. Hard-crust laterite deposits are also common to the area, and the external walkways and courtyards were paved with blocks that were excavated, cut while fresh, and left to gradually harden over time. In the courtyards, eucalyptus branches line the underside of the metal roof. The eucalyptus tree produces oils that repel insects, making it less prone to termite infestation (a problem common to sub-Saharan Africa). The use of eucalyptus can be justified in this timberpoor region because it is not indigenous, offers little shade, and requires large amounts of water to thrive. The exterior of the clinic maintains a simple profile, with the roof terminating abruptly at gutters installed along the outer walls. The omission of an overhang is meant to discourage animals

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4.1.6 Interior courtyard. from gathering under the shade of the roof, but it also leaves the exterior façades exposed to the elements. This detail precipitated the need for an external layer of concrete block, which shields a secondary layer of compressed earth block from rain. The mass of both layers regulates the internal temperatures by absorbing heat during the daytime. In the courtyards, the CEB is exposed but protected by a roof overhang. Involving the community in the construction of local infrastructure has been an important part of Kéré’s working method. Construction in Burkina Faso currently suffers from a lack of skilled labor, creating a need to train new workers for each project. Kéré views local participation not only as a cost-saving measure but also as a means for capacity building.5 Many trainees have leveraged the skills gained by working on Kéré’s building sites to find gainful employment elsewhere. By allowing the community to “build their own infrastructure,” Kéré’s method places the construction process squarely in the hands of those who stand to gain the most from the project.6 Individuals are more

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inclined to take ownership of a structure they built themselves, and their construction experience prepares them to perform future building maintenance and repairs. The German non-profit Grünhelme (Green Helmets) oversaw the construction of the clinic and organized the efforts of more than 80 individuals from five neighboring villages. Like Kéré, the Grünhelme team also places importance on community participation and inclusion. At the project outset, the team visited each village to discuss the project with community leaders and extend an invitation to individuals interested in helping to build the clinic. As construction progressed, appointed representatives visited the site on a daily basis and reported back to their respective communities on the project’s status. Workers were paid a daily wage for their efforts as well as receiving specific skills training in the areas of carpentry, metalwork, and bricklaying. After demonstrating proficiency on the construction site, workers were awarded an official certificate attesting to their participation and contribution

4.1.7 Members of the construction team.

to the project. The certificate, much like a letter of recommendation, gives future employers a reliable way of assessing an individual’s knowledge and skills.7 The Opera Village was designed as a gathering place for a community that did not exist when it opened in 2010. Schlingensief described the future growth of the project as “slow and organic,” and it has indeed gradually attracted people over time.8 The village has hosted programs such as the Mobile Cinema and workshops led by national and international artists. The school is currently the most successful piece of the project, with over 250 students enrolled. The number of children increases each year, and a classroom addition is currently in the planning phase. Word of the clinic has spread to neighboring communities: expectant mothers are taking advantage of medical services, and the dental facility has become particularly popular. As the village continues to develop, many of the clinic’s construction workers have found employment on site, especially in the area of brick production. Local materials and the skills necessary to build with them are unlimited. Founded to promote cultural exchange, today the Opera Village offers much more to its neighboring communities.

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4.2 Dungga Daycare Architects: Estudio Damgo, Department of Architecture, Foundation University Location: Barangay Malaunay, Valencia, Philippines Year: 2013

4.2.1 Students constructing the daycare roof. Situated along the banks of the Okoy River, the mountainside village of Malaunay is home to approximately 500 families. Unlike other rural communities in the Philippines, Malaunay is relatively new and its population is growing. Agriculture has traditionally been the mainstay of the local economy, but with the construction of a geothermal power station nearby, opportunities for work in the region have expanded. The demand for childcare has increased along with these new developments: most parents in the village did not themselves attend preschool but are eager for their children to have access to early education programs. The need for facilities became even more acute after a storm flooded the only daycare in the area and preschoolers were moved to

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a makeshift structure adjacent to the local elementary school. Building a new daycare facility for the village of Malaunay was the first project undertaken by Estudio Damgo, a design/build program led by senior architecture students at Foundation University in Dumaguete City. Founded in 2012, Estudio Damgo was modeled after design/build courses in the United States and was organized to offer students one semester devoted to design and a second to construction. Despite its foreign origins, Estudio Damgo’s singular reliance on bamboo unequivocally links the program to the Philippines. On Negros, where the program is located, bamboo is abundant and has been used for building houses and other structures for centuries.

Bamboo is Estudio Damgo’s material of preference for a number of reasons. It provides a quick and inexpensive method of construction and is a rapidly renewable resource. More importantly, the Estudio Damgo team considers bamboo construction to be an environmentally sound and culturally relevant alternative to Western-inspired environments, such as office buildings and shopping malls, which are currently on the rise in the country. Unlike the lightweight structures native to the area, newer buildings are not suited for the tropical climate and typically require the addition of mechanical systems for cooling. By establishing a dialog with project stakeholders, Estudio Damgo aims to inspire the local community to think differently about their surroundings. Many dwellings on Negros are still made from bamboo and nipa palm thatch, but these are usually owned by families with lower incomes, whereas the more affluent live in homes constructed from concrete block. The shift away from traditional construction practices based on bamboo and other lightweight materials began with colonization; the use of stone was mandated as the Spanish sought to permanently establish their regime on the islands. The contemporary landscape of Negros perpetuates this dichotomy with a mix of solid concrete schools, churches, and homes (often enclosed by a compound wall) and open, airy, plant-based structures. Current attitudes toward bamboo have also been shaped by the material’s diminishing reliability, due in part to a decline in practical knowledge about its characteristics and construction practices. Bamboo structures are often quickly constructed using temporary connections, which greatly reduces their reliability during high winds and typhoons. Treatment methods used to prevent insect infestation and increase fire resistance are also not widely practiced. Given these long-standing biases, it is not surprising that concerns were voiced when the scheme for the Dungga Daycare was initially presented to community stakeholders. As local confidence in the project was crucial to its success, the Estudio Damgo team addressed concerns by discussing how the life of the building could be extended through the treatment of bamboo against insects, proper detailing, and structural redundancies. The team pointed to an 80-yearold bamboo structure in nearby Bacolod City to underscore the material’s longevity. In addition, the team also described the advantages of bamboo

through the use of perspective drawings, which illustrated how the structure could be configured to successfully integrate the building with the adjacent surroundings. To insure the quality and durability of the bamboo structure, the team invited area experts to participate during design development and construction. Rene Armogenia, a local architect with experience in bamboo construction, acted as the primary consultant on the structure. In addition to tapping him for technical advice, the students carefully studied his built work, using one of his bamboo truss designs as a model for the daycare roof structure. The truss structure was subsequently adapted for the site’s exposure to high winds by adding additional supporting members. A local engineer reviewed the truss configuration with students and basic rules of thumb were developed to determine if the structure would be strong enough. In preparation for construction, the Estudio Damgo students completed a series of workshops led by craftspeople and farmers from the Philippines Bamboo Foundation (now known as Bambus Collabo). The 2.3-hectare bamboo farm and work collective hosts a bamboo nursery and artisan studio for producing furniture and other handicrafts made from the plant. On the farm, students learned about bamboo growth, care, and harvesting. They observed native species and studied the advantages of each in construction, as well as treatments for reducing flammability, mold, and insect infestation. Craftspeople demonstrated joinery and lashing techniques and also assisted the team with mocking up one of the trusses for the daycare roof. The training on the farm prepared students for speaking with community members about the material and also imparted enough technical knowledge for the team to confidently use newly acquired skills during construction. The design of the daycare developed in dialog with the community. Information gathered from surveys and small group discussions informed the team’s design process. The final design—a 48-square meter, freestanding classroom—is located behind the neighborhood elementary school. In form and materiality, the building is subtly inspired by the nearby bamboo and nipa huts and is meant to provide preschoolers with a familiar environment reminiscent of home. Folding bamboo screens on the north side of the structure open up to mountain views and allow for increased air circulation on hot days. The west elevation

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4.2.2 Dungga Daycare from northwest.

4.2.3 West elevation.

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5

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4.2.4 Floor plan and transverse section.

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4.2.5 Daycare interior. facing the school is protected by a low overhang and consists of alternating open and closed panels made from vertical, whole or sliced bamboo poles. Constructed primarily from concrete block, the east side of building is mostly solid, protecting the structure from the prevailing winds. Raised concrete footings provide a solid base for the structure, elevating the bamboo out of reach of surface water and damp. A rammed earth bench on the east side of the building spans between the footings, offering protected exterior seating under a deep thatch overhang. The difference between the light, airy character of the daycare structure against the heavy rigidity of the school further emphasizes the suitability of bamboo construction for this particular environment. The daycare remains cool, while the school—with its masonry walls and thin metal roof—tends to heat up on the hottest days. The school’s façade is mostly closed to the surrounding landscape, affording students almost no view to the outside. The daycare’s bamboo screens, by contrast, allow for

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filtered views and daylight, even when the structure is closed. Surveys and interviews conducted since Estudio Damgo handed over the building to the Malaunay community in March 2013 indicate an increase in student attendance. The space is used for monthly parent–teacher meetings and also hosts a meal program organized by the city’s Department of Social Welfare and Development. The community has embraced the structure, maintaining it while also adding new improvements to the school grounds. After three years, the building remains in excellent condition, showing only minimal signs of weathering. After the success of the Dungga Daycare, the Estudio Damgo program has continued to grow. Students have designed and built two additional projects (a multipurpose hall for relocated flood survivors of typhoon Sendong and a floating marine sanctuary guard post) and have recently completed a fourth building (a visitor information center for the city of Dumaguete). The students themselves were

responsible for raising funds for each project, using crowdsourcing and other initiatives. With each project, the program has gained more visibility and public support. Estudio Damgo advances traditional construction methods using materials native to the island, but, more importantly, it connects soon-to-

be architects with the general population, raising awareness about the profession and the potential rewards of a collaborative design process. Over the long term, this model will hopefully serve as a springboard for graduates to find and fund local projects, rather than having to seek work in Manila, or even further afield in Dubai.

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4.3 Common Ground Neighborhood Architect: Mithun Location: Lopez Island, Washington, USA Year: 2009

4.3.1 Common Ground Neighborhood.

Lopez Island is located off the northwest coast of the United States and is part of the San Juan Island archipelago. The island is a popular vacation destination, and an increase in second home and rental sales has caused housing prices to escalate over the last 20 years. Local residents Sandy Bishop and Rhea Miller were part of a small group who started the Lopez Community Land Trust (LCLT) in 1989 after experiencing a steep increase in real estate prices in that year. LCLT was initiated on Lopez because it offered a sound strategy for maintaining affordable housing for working island residents. Like many community land trusts, LCLT is a non-profit organization that purchases and retains ownership of land, develops housing on the property, and sells the units at an affordable price with an equity cap on resale, assuring perpetual affordability. LCLT acquires land and construction

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funding through a combination of bank financing, public and private grants, down payments, and donations from the community. Before purchasing a share in the cooperative, each prospective LCLT homeowner must demonstrate they have lived on the island a minimum of two years, have limited financial assets and a regular income. Initial shares in the cooperative are purchased with sweat equity and a cash down payment. LCLT has developed six affordable housing neighborhoods with a total of 40 housing units. The Common Ground Neighborhood is LCLT’s largest and was designed as a mixedincome, net-zero energy development, which consists of 11 homes—all situated on a portion of a seven-acre parcel less than a mile from Lopez Village. Common Ground was fully occupied in 2009 and is part of a growing development, which includes the LCLT office, seed library, two rental

1 6 2

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4.3.2 One- and two-bedroom flex units. apartments, and two other smaller cooperative neighborhoods. At the outset, LCLT established several goals for the Common Ground Neighborhood regarding the environmental, energy use, affordability, and community participation. Mithun, a Seattle-based firm with expertise in architecture, planning, and landscape design, was hired to assist the Common Ground stakeholders in achieving their objectives. In order to reduce energy and water use, the team at Mithun designed the homes to be as compact as possible; the architects also carefully considered solar orientation, natural ventilation, sun shading, and insulation. Renewable energy in the form of a 33 kW photovoltaic array and evacuated-tube solar hot water systems also offset energy use, and a rainwater catchment system collects water for washing machines, toilets, and landscape irrigation.

The neighborhood is bounded to the north by a forest, and an open meadow to the south; the architects took advantage of the gentle slope of the land between these areas to direct surface water into rain gardens, which filter and treat runoff. Homeowner awareness and participation was also an important part of achieving project goals. A metering system allows homeowners to monitor their weekly water and energy usage; a user’s manual and training help residents to actively participate in reducing their energy and water use. Thus far, four of the eleven homes have achieved zero net energy consumption.9 Common Ground homeowners were required to work together on the construction of their neighborhood, but the cooperative nature of the trust also contributed to a strong sense of community between individuals. In addition to

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1 Homes sizes are small to reduce energy and resource use. 2 Overhangs calculated for heat gain in winter and shading in summer. 3 Vegetated trellis for shading at lower windows. 4 Super insulated roof and walls. 5 Straw bales at north, east and west walls for insulation, resource use, and interest in natural building by interns and local community. 6 High efficiency, operable windows for solar performance, natural cooling and ventilation. Solar shades on window interiors. 7 Insulated night/light shades at windows. 8 Concrete floor as thermal mass. 9 Energy star appliances and compact fluorescent lighting. 10 Low flow plumbing fixtures. 11 Solar hot water heating. 12 Rainwater catchment for toilet flushing, washing machines, and stormwater control.

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the homeowners’ own sweat equity investment in the project, over 60 college students and young apprentices also helped to build homes. Anticipating novices on the building site, the architects considered strategies for simplifying construction. Standard wood frame construction combined with straw bale infill seemed to meet this requirement well. Even though straw bale construction originated in the state of Nebraska, it is not common in the United States. However, straw bale construction (loadbearing and non-loadbearing) is permitted in a few jurisdictions, mostly in the southwestern part of the country, where the climate is hot and dry. Only a few examples of straw bale homes exist in the Pacific Northwest, where questions regarding its suitability in a maritime climate have typically limited its application. These concerns did not deter LCLT, as some members had built straw bale homes 20 years prior and were convinced of their durability and thermal properties.10 Straw is still plentiful in the Northwest and bale construction, an inexpensive way to improve energy performance, further encouraged its use. The team relied on lightweight, wood framing to construct the homes at Common Ground. Straw

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bales were used as infill for areas requiring the greatest level of insulation and thermal mass—on the north and most of the east- and west-facing walls of the homes. To infill these walls, the team stacked 18-inch-wide straw bales, starting from the base of the framing and ending at the topmost member. Instead of pinning the bales together, poly webbing was used to bind them. After binding, the bale walls were compressed by tightening a series of cargo tie-down straps and then rendered with layers of earth and lime plaster. The portions of the homes not enclosed with straw bales were sheathed with plywood, filled with blownin cellulose insulation, and protected with an airtight barrier and cedar shingles. High-efficiency, operable windows located on the south-facing walls were installed to promote solar heat gain in winter and natural ventilation in the summer. A few years after construction, the residents of Common Ground came to appreciate their closeknit community even more when they discovered moisture damage in some of the homes. Neighbors came together and resolved to find a solution, and after consulting with a number of straw bale experts, they invited a moisture performance

4.3.4 Straw bale construction crew. specialist from England to assess the situation in person. The group learned that their plastering methods, in addition to insufficient roof overhangs, were responsible for the moisture penetration. The lime plaster used on the straw bale portion of the homes had not cured properly, and residents were advised to replace it with traditional lime putty plaster. The community worked together to repair the damage and to make preventative modifications to their homes. The group identified the walls affected by moisture and drilled ventilation holes to allow them to dry; afterwards a new finish coat of plaster was applied. All exterior walls were covered with a wash finish made from traditional lime putty, and new overhangs were added to vulnerable areas. The moisture problems have since dissipated, and residents of Common Ground remain enthusiastic about their homes. The DIY nature of straw bale construction allowed novices to participate in construction, but this also opened the door to mistakes. Although rectifying these required the council of experts, the community still carried out the repairs on their own. Common Ground is a unique model of cooperative living that can only reach its financial and environmental goals through community

4.3.5 Straw bale wall foundation.

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4.3.6 Straw bale plaster finish. participation. From straw bale walls to solar arrays, each of the project’s systems demanded a substantial amount of time and effort to understand and install, and continue to require upkeep and

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maintenance. Residents of Common Ground have shown their willingness to engage in and learn from the process of constructing community, even when there are problems along the way.

4.4 Women’s Opportunity Center Architect: Sharon Davis Design Location: Kayonza, Rwanda Year: 2013

4.4.1 Demonstration farm at Women’s Opportunity Center. The Women’s Opportunity Center (WOC) was conceived as a hub for economic development and social exchange for women living in the Kayonza district of Rwanda. Designed by the New Yorkbased firm Sharon Davis Design, the 2,200-squaremeter campus advances the mission of the organization behind its inception—Women for Women International (WfWI)—by supporting female survivors of conflict and war. Through education and skills training, WfWI assists women in their efforts to become economically self-sufficient. The WOC offers courses in financial literacy, agri-business, early childhood development, and health. Rwanda’s economy is based primarily on subsistence farming, and creating new ways for

generating income is important in a country with few natural resources. The center’s marketplace was designed to showcase new businesses and the demonstration farm provides a space for subsistence farmers to learn about transitioning to larger-scale agriculture. The center also encourages community interaction: individuals can gather and socialize while sharing a meal from the communal kitchen or relaxing in one of the many outdoor seating areas. In much the same way that the programmatic ‘modules’ of Kéré’s Opera Village are assembled to form a ‘village,’ the primary unit for the WOC is the brick, which is used to form spatial arrangements inspired by traditional settlements. The curvilinear

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masonry walls are a nod to the local craft of weaving and simultaneously define both interior and exterior spaces. The bricks used to construct the buildings of the WOC are an important link back to indigenous construction methods and have proved to be a significant learning tool for local women. Prejudice toward building with traditional

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materials is common; however, Rwandans view fired brick as a ‘modern’ material. Accordingly, it is also considered expensive, even though brick is often cheaper than other industrial materials, such as concrete and concrete masonry blocks. The Rwandan government actively promotes the use of concrete and other manufactured materials

4.4.3 Brick production.

through the national building code, which also bans the use of mud brick and thatch. Because many Rwandan workers do not possess the skills required to build with newer materials, foreign construction firms are often contracted, while local labor is hired to complete unskilled tasks. This, in addition to high import costs, makes construction with contemporary materials out of reach for most individuals.11 Producing the brick for the WOC locally lowered the cost of construction and also offered women in the community an opportunity to learn marketable skills. It is not uncommon for women to work on construction crews in Rwanda, but they often fill only minor positions, such as bringing water and laying mortar. WfWI encouraged the recruitment of women, and many that were hired performed in positions of greater responsibility on the construction site, working in brick production and even becoming masons on the project. Both men and women were trained not only as masons but also as steel workers and carpenters. Approximately 200 women learned brickmaking techniques, and from this group 30 were selected to join the WOC brick production team. At the peak of production, the team made an average of 20,000 bricks a week, providing the roughly 450,000 units required for the final design. Bruce Engel, an architect from the office of Sharon Davis Design, organized the brick production line, which took almost a year to establish with the help of a local crew. The team began by evaluating bricks already produced in the area, which were made by placing a wet clay mixture into a rectangular form, a method

4.4.4 Brick form.

4.4.5 Brick kiln. called slop molding. An excess of moisture in the mix resulted in poor quality bricks, so the team proposed to use a dryer, more precise process, called sand molding. The clay mix for this method is formed into a wedge shape and covered with sand (or another dry releasing agent, such as ash) before it is placed into the mold. To increase the precision of the brick, the team introduced a metal mold with a bottom. The brickmaker would fill the mold with clay and then remove excess material from the top with a bow cutter. At the start of production, the team located high-quality clay close to the site and prepared stations for tempering, molding, drying, and firing nearby. Workers excavated clay by hand from a pit, which they softened by adding water and tempered by leaving the mixture in underground tanks for a few days. The clay was then mixed and kneaded before

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4.4.6 Coursing plans.

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being shaped and placed into forms. Because the production site was located on a wetland, the team opted to build a temporary kiln made from stacked, unfired bricks, a process which they repeated after each firing. The publication Village-Level Brickmaking, issued by the German development agency, Gesellschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit, proved an important resource for the project.12 Engel attributes the superior quality of the WOC brick to the steps outlined in the manual, as well as to the team that executed them. The team found the publication’s illustrations to be particularly helpful for training the workers. With just a few changes to the typical production process, the WOC bricks far exceeded the quality of the typical, locally made bricks: tests verified a compressive strength close to that of concrete.13 To account for seismic conditions, the team developed a special brick with a void to accommodate rebar. This, in combination with the curved shape of the buildings and the quality of the brick, allowed for the omission of reinforced concrete structural members. The brickmakers formed the units to be roughly two times longer than their width (200 millimeters x 95 millimeters), which allowed for the construction of loadbearing walls using alternating courses of headers and running bond stretchers. Headers were removed in several areas to create perforated screens and vents, which filter daylight and promote ventilation of the interior spaces. The demands of the project and the architects’ expectations raised the bar on construction at the WOC and, as a result, the level of craftsmanship was high. The quality of the WOC buildings has caught the attention of officials both locally and in the capital, Kigali, creating a demand for WOC construction workers on government job sites. Some of the female workers from the WOC project have also continued on to form a brickmaking cooperative called Katwico. The introduction

4.4.7 Classroom interior. of high-quality bricks has opened up the local market for the material. Relying on seemingly small modifications in building practices, the WOC project demonstrates the potential found in returning control over production methods and construction processes to communities. In areas where reliance on outside labor and imported materials is growing, this strategy is crucial to equitable development.

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4.5 Esperanza Series Architects: Al Borde (David Barragán, Pascual Gangotena, Esteban Benavides and Marialuisa Borja) Location: Puerto Cabuyal, Manabí Province, Ecuador Year: 2009, 2011, 2013

4.5.1 Esperanza Dos. Puerto Cabuyal, with its population of around 150 individuals, is the only settlement for 30 kilometers along a remote stretch of the central Ecuadoran coast. Settlers first came to the area about 80 years ago, but the community remains isolated from the rest of the country and was only recently connected to the power grid. A majority of the population did not attend primary school and remains illiterate; however, the mild weather and a communal lifestyle make it relatively manageable for residents to sustain their families by fishing and farming. The Nueva Esperanza, or New Hope, school was the first of three projects to be realized by the architects of Al Borde and the community of Puerto Cabuyal. An addition to the school, Esperanza Dos, was constructed two years later on a sandy slope behind the first structure. Although many of the Cabuyal residents did not attend school themselves, they were strongly in favor of their children receiving an education. Not long after Felipe Gangotena moved from the capital Quito to join the community, he was asked to fulfill the role of village teacher. Recognizing

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that the resident’s informal lifestyle should shape his teaching pedagogy as well as the children’s learning environment, Gangotena enlisted the help of his cousin, a founding member of the four-person architecture firm Al Borde, based in the Quito. Bartering is the principal means of exchange in the area, which meant that funds for both the school and the addition were very limited: the Nueva Esperanza school and Esperanza Dos were built for $200 and $700, respectively. In response to these budgetary constraints, the architects developed strategies for leveraging other, non-monetary resources, such as volunteer labor, indigenous materials, and time. Working with these assets required that the architects dispense with conventional construction methods based on skilled labor, plans, and accuracy. Although the school and addition were built with the same materials and techniques traditionally employed by locals, the team exploited these more effectively through their use of an “adaptive construction logic”—a simple system that can be modified to accommodate the unpredictable

4.5.2 Diagrams of structural system.

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variables of land, labor, and materials.14 The systems developed by Al Borde could better accommodate unskilled labor, made efficient use of materials, and permitted expansion over time. The architects developed a system for each project from a series of physical study models. In lieu of construction documents, the final model from this process was used to communicate the design to the construction team. For Esperanza Dos, the architects arrived at a system based on a series of tripod modules fashioned from lashed wooden poles. The tripod as a structural form is lightweight and stable, and when several modules are connected, they mutually reinforce one another structurally. The independent nature of the tripod allowed for maximum flexibility during construction; the team could discuss and make decisions after the placement of each unit and the ultimate size of the building could be determined in the field. The team was also able to easily modify the height of the structure and adjust it in relation to the steep slope of the site.

4.5.3 Tripod construction.

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The tripods were placed roughly 4.5 meters apart and connected at their vertices by a ridgepole. The areas between were filled with smaller vertical poles, and layers of split bamboo lath were nailed over the top. The entire structure was then covered with overlapping layers of cade, or palm thatch. Construction was a collaborative effort completed by members of the local community, Al Borde, and volunteers recruited by the architects. Labor hierarchy and scheduling were dispensed with, and construction followed an organic progression more in tune with the lifestyle of the community. Work distribution occurred naturally, with each team member mastering a preferred task over time. Eventually experts emerged within the group and these individuals shared their acquired knowledge with the rest of the team. Time was not particularly important and, despite the lack of a deadline, construction was completed quickly due to the strong commitment of the participants. Members of the Cabuyal community immediately occupied Esperanza Dos once

complete, and gradually added floors and other amenities based on their needs. The architects began to understand the full ramifications of their working strategies after an extension was added without their help, and newly constructed homes in the area began to show influences from both Esperanza projects. By introducing an incremental construction system and a collective working process, the community could continue to build without outside assistance. Even so, Al Borde was again invited by the Cabuyal residents to help them realize additional public amenities, such as a residence for visiting teachers and a kindergarten. At this juncture, the architects decided that the community would be better served if they learned how to develop projects independently. The residents already possessed the skills necessary for building their own proposals and were clearly ready for experimentation. La Ultima Esperanza, or Last Hope, project provided a platform for teaching the Cabuyal residents basic design principles. Al Borde led a series of monthly four-day design workshops, which were attended by 16 students, ranging in age from 14 to 72. As university faculty, the Al Borde team felt qualified to teach the group, but their pedagogical parameters were adjusted to 4.5.4 Interior of Esperanza Dos.

4.5.5 Community workshop.

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better reflect the abilities of their new students. The team had observed that the Cabuyal residents were very aware of their immediate surroundings and also had a good understanding of local resources and construction techniques. Where guidance was needed was in analyzing and synthesizing abstract ideas and translating these into physical form. Puerto Cabuyal’s isolation meant that the group’s design process remained uninfluenced by preconceived ideas, and students began by making an exhaustive investigation of different project variables. The kindergarten—one of the group’s initial design projects—began with a careful investigation of the children in the community, and the results were then translated into physical models. Using the same materials and working methods as the previous Esperanza projects, the

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community built the kindergarten based on their design proposal. For the first two Esperanza projects, the architects developed physical strategies in response to the unpredictable conditions of site, labor, materials, and time. These systems lent order and efficiency to the construction process but also flexibility. Simple, ubiquitous materials were tailored according to an open logic, allowing for improvisation and unplanned decision-making. La Ultima Esperanza introduced yet another strategy for negotiating unforeseeable circumstances, but instead of offering a physical solution, the architects proposed a participatory process. As a result, the Cabuyal community is able to meet future needs without sacrificing their self-sufficient lifestyle.

4.6 Ma’anqiao Village Reconstruction Architects: Edward Ng, Jun Mu, Li Wan Engineers: Tiegang Zhou, Hua Yang Location: Ma’anqiao Village, Sichuan Province, China Year: 2011

4.6.1 Ma’anqiao after 2011 earthquake. The Great Sichuan Earthquake of 2008 devastated many rural communities located in some of the poorest and least developed areas of China. Thousands were buried beneath the rubble of collapsed buildings and millions lost their homes to the power of the 8.0-magnitude earthquake. According to Chinese government officials and other experts, the immensity of the damage could mainly be attributed to poor construction techniques. Newer masonry buildings were often erected using little or no reinforcement and the construction of rural buildings, typically made from earth, no longer followed best practices used by previous generations. In order to assess the damage and cope with the subsequent housing crisis, the Ministry of Housing and Urban–Rural Development of China (MHURD) initiated a series of reconstruction projects in Sichuan Province. While MHURD relied on concrete and masonry for a majority of their projects, they found these materials to be lacking when applied in rural areas, mainly due to cost and difficulties related to transport. Ma’anqiao, one of the poorest villages in the earthquake zone, became the focus of one such post-disaster reconstruction effort. Unlike the other initiatives, a team of architects and engineers (from the Chinese University of Hong Kong and Xi’an University of Architecture and Technology) led the planning and reconstruction

of the village. The team was interested in finding ways to lower the cost of rebuilding by using traditional earth-based construction techniques together with the rubble from destroyed buildings. Damage to Ma’anqiao’s rammed earth homes and agricultural structures was extensive, which meant that the team would need to focus their efforts on designing more seismically resistant earth structures. The circumstances found in Ma’anqiao were similar to many other rural areas affected by the earthquake; the village would serve as a demonstration project, not only for the Ma’anqiao community but also for other municipalities and beyond. Characterized by a subtropical monsoon climate, Ma’anqiao is located in a steep, isolated valley divided by the Chenghe River. Most of the village’s 1,200 inhabitants belong to one of the two primary ethnic minorities in the region, the Dai and Yi. Ma’anqiao families live mainly in two-story courtyard dwellings consisting of plastered earthen walls protected by timber roofs covered with terracotta tiles. When faced with reconstructing their homes after the earthquake, the villagers questioned the rationality of rebuilding with these materials. Many felt that concrete and bricks would be safer and more reliable than traditional methods. Transporting supplies to the remote village, however, would be difficult and expensive. Additionally, the

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4.6.2 Ma’anqiao after reconstruction. cost of labor and materials had doubled due to reconstruction across the region and, as a result, the government subsidy allotted to each family would only suffice for building a small house, if made of concrete and brick. Traditional homes in Ma’anqiao had always accommodated the needs of the agrarian community: in addition to family living quarters, they included space for agricultural storage and livestock. For the Ma’anqiao residents, a smaller dwelling meant having to fundamentally change their way of living. With these obstacles on the horizon, turning once again to local materials seemed the only feasible solution, but only if safer construction methods could be found. Working with the Ma’anqiao community, the university research team began the reconstruction process by examining the damaged rammed earth structures and by interviewing elderly craftspeople in the area. From the information gathered during this

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investigation, the team ascertained that older buildings were more seismically resistant than newer ones. Over the years, practices had gradually changed and older methods had been forgotten, resulting in poor seismic performance. Reintroducing better building practices became a priority for the team, but restoring the community’s faith in earth construction was equally important: without the villagers’ support, the project could not remain sustainable over the long term. To address these concerns, the team proposed building a prototype house that would aid them in the development and dissemination of seismically resistant construction methods. Rather than relying on drawings for communication, members of each family would learn the new techniques during the construction process. The prototype’s design followed the configuration of a typical Ma’anqiao home, but changes were made based on data gathered both in the field—from observations of

4.6.3 Constructing the house prototype.

physical damage—and in the laboratory—from tests studying the seismic behavior of rammed earth walls. Structural improvements included reducing spans and floor-to-floor heights, adding wooden columns and bamboo ring beams, and refining connections between the foundation, walls, and roof. To increase wall strength, the team added lime to the earth mix and instituted a standardized ramming procedure to insure uniformity of each wall element. The team also proposed to enhance the quality and strength of walls by switching the traditional wooden rammer for a metal one and by reinforcing the corners of wooden formwork with steel angles. The team’s improvements found during the construction of the prototype formed the basis for a set of guidelines that could be used by the villagers when rebuilding their own homes. After conducting interviews with 33 families, the team developed 12 different house plans that responded to family size, damage to the

existing home, and other site conditions. The proposals introduced functional changes that increased the thermal performance and hygiene of the traditional courtyard home. Techniques for building homes prior to the earthquake minimized the number and size of openings so as not to degrade the structural integrity of rammed earth walls. As a consequence, homes were often hot inside, even though the earthen walls had some capacity to regulate indoor temperatures. The new schemes outlined strategies for making larger, more structurally sound openings either by carving round holes into the dried wall or by incorporating metal buckets or wooden frames into the formwork. The team also identified the space between the roof rafters and the tops of walls as a place to promote passive ventilation. The architects also discovered an ideal form for the houses. Using thermal simulation studies, the team found that a pitched roof with a garret for agricultural storage was the best configuration

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1 ventilation opening 2 lath 3 wood blocking 4 ring beam 5 timber column in wall 6 wood floor framing 7 wood dowel in wall 8 bamboo reinforcement

9 earth and straw plaster 10 timber purlin 11 short column 12 wood rafter 13 roof tile 14 window frame 15 lintel

4.6.4 House improvements. for insulating the living spaces from radiant solar heat. Two months after the earthquake, the villagers began to rebuild their homes. Using the design schemes as an optional reference, inhabitants modified the plans according to their particular needs and budget. These, along with the technical guidelines and training from the prototype construction, formed the basis for the village reconstruction efforts. Participation was strong and the new methods so effective that the rebuilding was complete after just three months, at a quarter of the cost of conventional brick and concrete construction. The use of non-

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local materials was minimal: approximately 90 percent of the construction materials used were either locally available resources, such as stone, earth, and wood, or recycled from the rubble of destroyed buildings. The design changes made to the openings and form of the buildings also had positive results. Post-reconstruction monitoring confirmed that the new homes were several degrees cooler than the older ones. After completion, MHURD published information on the entire reconstruction effort in a manual and distributed it to rural villages in Western China. Even after the success of the Ma’anqiao reconstruction, the team continued

4.6.5 Reconstructed homes.

4.6.6 Ma’anqiao village center.

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to develop strategies for maintaining the village and its community over the long term. Many villages in China are shrinking as their inhabitants leave in search of a better life in the city; consequently, the long-term sustainability of these rural communities depends on elevating the quality of rural living conditions. To address these concerns in Ma’anqiao, the villagers, with the architects’ assistance, made several improvements to the community infrastructure. A bridge connecting the village to other settlements in the area was constructed, as well as a village center. The center offers important public amenities, such as a clinic, kindergarten, library, shop, and guest rooms, and also provides a place for community gatherings and education workshops. As with the prototype and home construction, building the center served as a model and demonstrated that even larger, more public buildings could be achieved using earth as the primary material. The success of Ma’anqiao’s reconstruction can be attributed to the team’s methodical and thorough approach to the circumstances found in the field. The team informed its decision-making process with a rich set of sources, stemming from research and testing, field observations, and personal interviews with the community. As a result of their structuring of the work, the community continues to build in a manner that is familiar, uncomplicated, and once again safe, restoring their self-reliance. Rather than allowing disaster to destroy their way of life, residents of Ma’anqiao enjoy dramatically improved conditions—more healthful and comfortable than they were prior to the earthquake.15

region. The fate of Djenné’s masons is now unclear, as many of the town’s residents can no longer afford to have their homes plastered and maintained. 3 Quote from material provided by the office of Al Borde, Quito. 4 Francis Kéré, “Operndorf für Afrika; wie eine Idee zum Architekten fand,” Die Zeit 22, no. 12 (2009): 52. 5 Jakob Schoof, “People Come First: Interview with Francis Kéré,” Daylight & Architecture Magazine by Velux 20 (2013): 2–12. 6 Ibid., 7. 7 Till Gröner (managing director, Grünhelme), interview with author via email, April 20, 2016. 8 Kéré, “Operndorf für Afrika,” 53. 9 The homes have received Zero Energy Building certification, according to the standards established by the International Living Future Institute. 10 Sandy Bishop (executive director, LCLT), interview with the author via phone, October 8, 2015. 11 World Bank, Informal Housing: Reducing Disaster Vulnerability through Safe Construction (2012). 12 The Deutsche Gesellschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit (GTZ) is now known as the Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (GIZ). 13 Bruce Engel (Sharon Davis Design), interview with the author via phone, August 19, 2015. 14 Information from material provided by the office of Al Borde, Quito.

Notes 1 Nicole Boivin, Material Cultures, Material Minds: The Impact of Things on Human Thought, Society, and Evolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 162–164. 2 The “Old Towns of Djenné” site was inscribed to the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1988. In 2016, the site was added to the List of World Heritage in Danger. Tourism is an important economic driver for the area but the number of visitors has dropped significantly in response to the threat of terrorism and insecurity in the

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15 Jun Mu, Edward Ng, Li Wan, Tiegang Zhou, and Jie Ma, “Practical Study of the Ecological Rebuilding of Earthquake-stricken Villages in Southwestern China,” Conference Proceedings Passive and Low Energy Architecture (2011): 213–218.

5 Materials and Place

5.1 Cutting wood for Haus am Moor in Vorarlberg, Austria.

Generations of architects and builders have exploited the associations between materials and local culture, history, and terrain to achieve a variety of ends, from representing the natural environment in built form to expressing national identity. Sometimes, the physical substance itself conveys meaning; at other times, the material’s manner of production becomes the signifier. The associational value of materials seems to be strongest when the material retains evidence of its origins. “When the materials of places are quarried or made locally,” historian Richard Weston observes, “they are often interpreted as suggesting that feeling of belonging or dwelling.”1 Stones, for example, were considered by many cultures to embody the fundamental qualities of the local terrain; individuals used the connection between material and place to establish claims to and relationships with the land.2 Similarly, the “traces of labor” left behind in a material, associated with manual craft, bring an awareness of and an appreciation for the individuals responsible for their making.3 Place manifests within the working process, and mastery of a particular medium begins with an acute understanding of local conditions.

Traditional and Global In an era of globalized, market-driven development, the relationship between materiality and place is complex. Rather than directly convey an understanding of their making, buildings often obscure their origins in their use of manufactured products. Composed of resources mined and formed in distant locations, buildings today represent global realities that are almost impossible to comprehend. Incorporating the appearance of traditional materials in contemporary architecture can heighten our awareness of our immediate surroundings. Doing so might be interpreted as mounting “resistance” to global development; however, an alternate reading suggests that the foregrounding of local materials is as much a part of the globalization phenomenon as it is a reaction against it.4 For instance, indigenous resources have frequently been appropriated by the tourism industry to create ‘authentic’ environments for mass consumption. As stand-ins for ‘culture’ or ‘nature,’ these materials transform buildings into

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‘destination’ architecture that closely approximates the local context without actually engaging it. The large-scale production and exportation of handmade goods has also weakened longstanding associations between manual processes and place. As a global commodity, manual craft is today rarely identified with the actual people responsible for executing it within a particular geographic location.

Materiality of Place The first three projects featured in this chapter— all visitor centers—explore how materials can draw attention to different aspects of a location’s natural and cultural history. Far from replicating local conditions, architects incorporated materials in a way that invites new interpretations of and perspectives on the immediate context. In the case of the Tåkern Visitor Center in Sweden [5.1], connections between the building and the region’s landscape take precedence. The building is thatched with reeds harvested from a nearby farm, which establishes a visual relationship between the visitor center and the wetland of Lake Tåkern, a significant national landmark. At the Jianamani Visitor Center in China [5.3], stone embodies both mundane and religious associations. Assembled by local stonemasons, the building’s masonry cladding shares the same source as prayer stones used at a neighboring religious site. The resulting stonework resembles typical structures of the Tibetan Plateau, but its origins are considered sacred. In the city of Al Ain, located in the United Arab Emirates, earth was reshaped to transform the historic Al Jahili Fort into a tourist center and event venue. As both a fixed and malleable medium, earth performs a dual role: in retaining important features of the fort it maintains historical continuity, while in seamlessly integrating new additions, it adjusts to present-day requirements. Each of the three visitors’ centers contains some problematic aspects that might call into question the authenticity of its response to place. For both the Tåkern Visitor Center and the Al Jahili Fort, the architects employed resources and processes with some historical precedence in their respective locations, yet economic necessity and the disappearance of indigenous expertise required the recruitment of craftspeople from outside

the country. By contrast, a local team realized the Jianamani Visitor Center; however, regional seismic conditions precluded the use of native stone for more than a small portion of this project (a majority of the building’s core structure consists of reinforced concrete). All of these projects could be considered compromised. Another way to view them, however, is as first steps toward innovating new systems, which will eventually integrate mainstream practices with native forms of construction.

Embedded Practices Knowledge—of excavating, harvesting, and treating natural resources, and of forming and connecting materials—was (and in some cases still is) as much a part of a location’s culture and history as are the resources and materials themselves. In the three final projects featured in this chapter, architects turn to older, more direct forms of construction that have persisted to the present day. By taking advantage of smallscale production facilities still in the business of processing raw materials, each was able to precisely control aspects of cost and quality on the job while at the same time boosting the regional economy.

There are both challenges and benefits to engaging indigenous expertise. In Vietnam, for example, knowledge of bamboo construction is limited to rural areas, and even there, only a small number of individuals still know how to work with the material. Architect Vo Trong Nghia, responding to the lack of skilled builders available for the construction of the Wind and Water Bar [5.5], brought experts from his home village to train construction workers in the city. This specialized workforce subsequently went on to construct a number of remarkable bamboo projects in various locations. Like Vo Trong Nghia, Bernardo Bader is closely involved with the process of construction. Bader attributes the superior quality of his projects to the strong relationships and trust he has established with local craftspeople and builders. The artisans’ expertise is evident in the finely finished wood surfaces of the Haus am Moor project in Austria [5.6]. As the case studies in this chapter indicate, materials that retain ties to place—in their physical appearance and also in their making—allow architects and observers to think more critically about their immediate environment. This process may not be as straightforward as it once was, and may raise doubts, but it does offer new perspectives at a time when more individuals feel less rooted and connected to place than ever before.

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5.1 Tåkern Visitor Center Architect: Wingårdh Arkitektkontor Location: Glänås, Sweden Year: 2012

5.1.1 Visitor center on Lake Tåkern.

The Tåkern Visitor Center is located on the shore of Lake Tåkern in the South Swedish Highlands. The surrounding wetlands, which appeared in the mid-1800s after local officials drained water to free up farmland, attract a wide variety of birds; so many, in fact, that Tåkern has become one of the largest and most well-known areas for birdwatching in Scandinavia. The lake’s significance as a protected wetland led to its inclusion in the Naturum Visitor Center network, a series of public facilities located at significant environmental and cultural sites across Sweden. Publicly funded and regulated by the Swedish Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), the centers are conceived as gateways, intended to inspire the general public to visit the countryside by providing information about the environment and the impact of humans

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on natural and cultural ecosystems.5 In a move to strengthen the network’s long-term appeal, architecture design competitions were held for each of the 28 centers built since the Naturum network was founded in 1973. The Tåkern Visitor Center also began as an invited competition, in 2007, and the Stockholm-based firm Wingårdh proposed the winning scheme, which was completed in 2012. A stand of trees to the south provides a protective enclosure and backdrop for the main entry of the building, which visitors reach on foot from the parking lot. Upon entering the center, visitors learn from the exhibits about Tåkern’s history, both natural and man-made, while looking out onto the expanse of wetlands and water beyond. Outside, visitors can stroll

5.1.2 Main entry.

5.1.3 Exhibit space.

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1 entrance 2 reception 3 laboratory 4 staff room 5 office 6 exhibition area 7 auditorium

5.1.4 Floor plan.

between the center and a bird-watching tower, which are joined to the rest of the site by a series of walkways oriented toward views of the lake and the surrounding terrain. The center’s most visible material—thatch— connects the building to the adjacent marshland, while also referencing human intervention in the local landscape. Stråtak, as straw or

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reed thatching is called in Swedish, is one of the oldest materials used for making shelter. It was the most prevalent roof type there until the early 1800s, when clay tile, produced on a large scale, began to replace it as a way of mitigating the threat of fire. Thatched roofs are still evident in many areas, however, and have recently experienced a resurgence of popularity.

Increased reliance on stråtak in Sweden has encouraged an influx of thatchers from other countries, such as Holland and Denmark, who have introduced faster, more fire-resistant methods of construction. A few small Swedish thatching firms still exist, but larger companies from Eastern Europe, such as Poland, who benefit from cheap labor and an abundant supply of reeds, dominate the market. Consequently, it was a Polish firm that thatched the Tåkern Visitor Center; however, the thatch itself was sourced locally. Lake Tåkern is only 1 meter deep, making it a perfect habitat for growing large quantities of reeds. Material that was harvested in the spring was purchased from a farm across the lake in the village of Väversunda. The limestone paving at the entry was also sourced nearby, from a local stone quarry. The wood used for the glulam frame and interior finishes is untreated pine and spruce originating from native forests. The architects incorporated some traditional construction methods, while modifying other aspects to suit the design. To insure that water sheds at the proper rate for the material to remain dry, a traditional thatch roof should be pitched to slope at least 45 degrees: this will prevent rot and

5.1.5 Thatch façade of visitor center.

glazed skylight

glue laminated construction

200-250mm reed

technical space

wood panel

recessed luminaire

massive wood floor

5.1.6 Section detail.

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5.1.7 Thatch installation. protects the material so that it will only require replacement approximately every 70 years. The ridge of a traditional thatch roof requires careful consideration, as it must provide a weathertight cap that sheds rainwater to both slopes. To achieve this, the ridge is protected by a layer of thatch that is wrapped to form a saddle over the topmost layers of reed or straw. The form of the center’s roof is similar to a traditional one, but it appears to have been twisted and folded by unseen forces. Its asymmetrical form and steep pitches were a challenge to resolve, requiring extensive study by the architects using physical models. The overall height of the building is 10 meters, but the roof pitch caused the height of the exterior walls to vary from 7 to 1.2 meters. The architects substituted the traditional roof ridge with a more durable, glazed skylight that runs the length of the building and illuminates the spaces below.

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Thatch not only connects the building with the surrounding context, the material also provides an additional layer of natural insulation—28 centimeters of thatch corresponds to 10 centimeters of conventional insulation. Thatch is a combustible material, but contemporary construction methods have eliminated the main cause of fire in thatched structures. Rather than leaving the underside of the material exposed, as was the practice in older structures, thatch is now installed on top of ridged sheathing, which prevents an interior fire from spreading to the roof. The sheathing of the visitor center was first covered with roof felt and then a 28-centimeter layer of thatch bundles, directly secured to the panels using metal screws and wire. The thatcher prepares the reed bundles beforehand while maintaining a consistent size and degree of tautness when binding the stalks. The ends of the bundles are hand-cut, lifted into position,

and attached with the stem end of the plant oriented in the optimal direction for shedding water (usually downward). Each successive course of material covers the attachment hardware of the layer below it, thus preventing moisture from penetrating the substructure. After the bundles are attached, the thatch is combed into position; this finishing process organizes the individual stalks and gives the material its unified appearance. While appearing continuous, the roof can still be repaired by replacing individual reed bundles without impacting the rest. In her classic children’s book of 1906, The Wonderful Adventures of Nils, Selma Lagerlöf described Lake Tåkern’s reeds as growing so thick that boats could not pass through them: “if the reeds shut the people out, they give, in return, shelter and protection to many other

things.” One year after the book’s release, the Swedish government approved plans to drain Lake Tåkern completely dry.6 Fortunately the project was never funded, and the wetland habitat was preserved for all to enjoy to the present day. The area’s popularity is still growing, and in its first year of operation alone, more than 100,000 people visited the Tåkern Visitor Center. Without human intervention, Tåkern would not have become an attractive habitat for such a large number of birds, and without its abundant wildlife, the lake would have eventually been converted to farmland. At Tåkern, a balance has been struck between natural and artificial ecosystems: the visitor center reveals this equilibrium, not only through its exhibits but also through its design.

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5.2 Al Jahili Fort Architect: Roswag & Jankowski Architekten Location: Al Ain, United Arab Emirates Year: 2008

5.2.1 Al Jahili Fort courtyard. The Al Jahili Fort, located in the center of Al Ain, is the largest defense fortification in the United Arab Emirates and its appearance on the 50 Dirham note affirms its status as a significant landmark in that country. The fort is part of a larger system of historic oases—defined by palm groves, irrigation systems, and buildings—that were the genesis of the city, which was founded in the fifth millennium BC. Until the 1960s, the city maintained much of its original character, but after the discovery of oil, Al Ain, like other Emirati cities, began to grow. Unlike Abu Dhabi or Dubai, however, Al Ain still retains many of its historic mud brick structures and, as a consequence, it is considered to be the most authentic city in the UAE and has become a popular vacation destination.

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The Al Jahili Fort most likely began as a single mud brick watchtower built by Sheikh Zayed Bin Khalifa in the 1890s to protect a falaj, or underground canal, which was connected to the older irrigation network of the Al Ain Oasis. Over time, a larger fortification was constructed, but the fort was eventually abandoned in 1940 (after the falaj ran dry) and fell into disrepair until it was occupied in 1955 by the Trucial Oman Scouts, a paramilitary force under British command. During that time, several new buildings were added to the complex and areas that had suffered from storm damage were rebuilt with materials considered at the time to be more durable than earth masonry. The character of the fort’s remaining earthen walls was also substantially transformed by the

application of military whitewash. Al Jahili was restored in 1986; the inner courtyard was cleared and a new entry gate was added to the outer fortification wall.7 In 2003, the Abu Dhabi Authority for Culture and Heritage (ADACH) began to implement a comprehensive plan for preserving and promoting the cultural heritage of Al Ain. As part of this vision, the Al Jahili Fort was reconceived as an information and visitor center, connecting the historic oasis with the contemporary city. ADACH wished to alter the existing fort as little as possible and therefore hired the German firm Roswag & Jankowski Architekten for their expertise in earth construction and preservation.

The fort stands apart from the Jahili Park, where it is located, on a tract of sandy, dry land that protects the mud brick structure from the humidity of the surrounding greenery. The fort’s entry gate faces the street and is flanked by two L-shaped buildings containing the information center and exhibit spaces. An arcade wrapping the interior of the entry courtyard serves as the main circulation route for the galleries and other amenities and also provides a thermal buffer. The north wing of the complex accommodates an exhibition devoted to the life and work of Wilfred Thesiger (known locally as Mubarak bin London), who traveled the Arabian Desert with Bedouins in the 1940s and is known for his photographs

3

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1 information center 2 temporary exhibition hall 3 Mubarak bin London exhibition

5.2.2 Site Plan.

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documenting life in the region before the oil boom. The south wing houses the visitor information center, bookshop and café. Connected to the north wing by the arcade, it is used for changing exhibitions and events. In order to maintain the historic character of the original and meet the requirements of a contemporary exhibition space, the architects proposed to heighten the qualities of the existing structure while subtly integrating modern additions. The renovation was carried out using mostly recycled materials from the fort—mud brick, palm timbers, and earth plaster—wherever possible. The roof of the fort had originally been constructed using quartered palm trunks

5.2.3 Reinstallation of timber beams.

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spanning roughly 2.7 meters. The rafters were pitched to allow for drainage and enclosed with palm frond matting covered with earth. During the renovation, the architects discovered that the original structure was heavily infested with termites. This material was removed and about half of it was treated and reinstalled in the building. The rebuilt roof was externally insulated, sealed with a bituminous gravel-coated sheeting to protect against rain, and then covered with an earth mortar to maintain its original appearance. The original walls of the fort were constructed by placing sun-dried mud bricks directly on the sandy terrain, with no foundation. New wall

5.2.4 Base layer application of clay plaster. alterations were made with masonry and mortar formed out of mud reconstituted from existing bricks and finished with a fine clay plaster. The rammed earth floors were restored and covered with a protective layer of wax, and a raised rammed earth terrace was added on the exterior to extend the arcade space into the courtyard, which was restored to its former appearance. To complete the restoration work, more than 50 artisans from India—trained by the non-profit Hunnarshala Foundation—were brought to the site. The handworked plaster and rammed earth floors, combined with the roughness of the palm wood ceilings, give the spaces warmth and individuality; their detailing is crisp and restrained. The architects minimized visual disruptions from new fixtures and materials: they integrated switches and ventilation grilles within the casework and

concealed new additions, such as the glulam lintels and concrete structural elements, under plaster. Plaster also covers the hydronic radiant cooling system. Even if it cannot be seen, the system’s presence can be felt—especially on the hottest days, when temperatures can reach 50 degrees Celsius. The system works in tandem with the 90-centimeter-thick earthen structure to maintain a constant indoor temperature of 24 degrees Celsius, minimizing the need for air conditioning and thus reducing the building’s energy consumption. As Al Ain is beginning its own period of accelerated urbanization, it has become even more critical to maintain the city’s historic infrastructure. Earth is at the heart of Al Jahili’s renovation, uniting the building with the surrounding terrain; the material’s transformative qualities were well suited for reshaping the fort to

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1.2

2.1 1.1

2.3

45° C

22° C

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2.4

Construction 1.1 sun filter glass 1.2 thermal insulation Environmental Systems tempering / cooling 2.1 wall cooling system 2.2 central chiller unit ventilation 2.3 air intake supply 2.4 air handling unit 2.5 fresh air outlet in furniture 2.6 waste air intake behind picture

5.2.5 Environmental systems diagram.

5.2.6 Cooling system installation.

5.2.7 Café and arcade.

accommodate its new functions. Earth’s malleability is commonly regarded as a weakness, but in the case of Al Jahili, the plasticity of the material was advantageous for modifying interiors and concealing necessary

technical additions. The conversion and restoration of the Al Jahili Fort demonstrates a forward-thinking strategy that seamlessly integrates old and new technologies, as well as resources.

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5.3 Jianamani Visitor Center Architect: Atelier TeamMinus Location: Yushu City, Qinghai Province, China Year: 2013

5.3.1 Visitor center exterior. The Chinese city of Yushu, home to more than 120,000 inhabitants, was once part of Kham, one of three regions traditionally defining Tibet. At 3,600 meters above sea level, the city stretches along a T-shaped river valley carved into the Tibetan Plateau. Winters are harsh and summers are cool, the area’s subarctic climate and high altitude producing temperatures ranging from –7 degrees to 12 degrees Celsius. Qinghai Province, where Yushu is located, is on the most active fault zone in this part of China. The 7.1-magnitude earthquake that struck the region in April of 2010 changed the development of the city forever.

Almost every building in Yushu was damaged or destroyed by the earthquake, leaving more than 2,000 people dead and 100,000 survivors homeless. The Chinese government’s response was swift and reconstruction began soon after emergency relief efforts were underway. Even before the end of the year, construction had started on almost 300 projects in the region, at a total cost of $770 million. By 2013, more than $7 billion had been spent and reconstruction was declared complete. The speed and robustness of the official recovery effort seemed to validate the views of some critics that the disaster had been turned to the advantage of the government, which

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used it to demonstrate support for ethnic unity, while also accelerating its plans to modernize the Tibetan areas. As part of this vision, Yushu would be recast as a hub for ecotourism, with the Jianamani Visitor Center serving as a cultural gateway to the city. Jyekundo, as Yushu is known in Tibetan, is an important religious center and a destination for thousands of pilgrims annually. Multiple shrines and thousands of stones left by the faithful mark Gyanak Mani (also known as Jianamani), a key site on the city outskirts, which has been recognized by Tibetan Buddhists as a sacred place since the eighteenth century. After the founding of Gyanak Mani, inhabitants deemed white stone from the sacred mountain Dosloa to be particularly pure, and so began the tradition of excavating and engraving mani stones near the site. Mani stones are considered by Tibetan Buddhists to embody the speech of Buddha and are often inscribed with the phrase from Avalokites´vara’s mantra “Om Mani Padme Hum.” The ritual of leaving mani stones at significant sites is practiced widely in the Tibetan regions, where it is seen as a means of communicating with the deities of that particular place.8 The act of placing a mani stone, either singly or stacked together to form mounds or long walls, is believed to encourage the protection, health, and good fortune of the bearer or, more frequently, honor a deceased family member. During China’s Cultural Revolution (1966– 1976), pilgrims were no longer permitted to visit Gyanak Mani; the structure on the site was gradually dismantled and the material reused to construct roads and buildings in Yushu. Over time, restrictions were eased, and the pile grew to become the largest collection of mani stones (more than 2.5 billion) in the world. After the 2010 earthquake, the power of Gyanak Mani became even more tangibly evident when the local community focused on restoring the monument before rebuilding their own homes. Interestingly, the mani stones that had previously been confiscated during the Cultural Revolution also began to resurface in the rubble during this time; teams of elderly citizens organized to save the material and add it to the pile. Their efforts were so successful that Gyanak Mani is now larger than it was before the disaster.9 The Jianamani Visitor Center was commissioned along with six other public reconstruction projects and was strategically positioned near Gyanak Mani. The location and

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purpose of the center challenged the Beijingbased architecture firm, TeamMinus, who had limited knowledge of local culture and religious practices. As the project architect Brian Zhang admits, simply extracting cultural elements from the place was difficult, and the team proposed several schemes before finally landing on a design that the community would accept. It was this incremental process of trial and error that contributed to the team’s understanding of Tibetan culture and ultimately allowed them to propose a sensitive solution, despite being outsiders to the area. Initially, the team approached the project as they would any other—with the mindset that they were specialists hired to solve a problem. The team soon learned that this approach would not succeed within the given context, and so they turned instead to local experts for a more nuanced understanding of the people and the place. An architect from Yushu advised the team on architectural preferences and construction methods in the region, which led the architects to consider how they might combine local materials with contemporary methods. Although their initial scheme was rejected, from this failure the team learned of the community’s desire for a connection between the visitor center and Gyanak Mani, which subsequently became the impetus for the project. Strong associations were created between the visitor center and the religious site through visual connections, symbolic references, and materiality. In developing the final scheme, the team consulted with a prominent Tibetan historian specializing in mani stone history, who explained that Gyanak Mani was just one of many significant sites forming a sacred landscape around the city, which consisted of the mani stone quarry, hot springs, a temple, and other important geological features.10 The team confirmed that most of these places were visible from the building site and subsequently proposed a wooden roof deck with viewing platforms oriented toward these special locations. The organization of the platforms also favors circulating in a clockwise direction, following the Tibetan Buddhist tradition of circumambulation. The platform stairwells surround a square stone core, which contains functions that serve both the community’s needs as well as those of visitors. A post office, public restrooms, shops, a clinic, and exhibition space are all organized around a courtyard that delivers light and air to the center of the building.

Buddha Worship Field

Geni Xibawangxiu Mountain

Leciga

Naigutan

Cuochike

Janamani Stones Dongna Zhunaitalangtaicileng

Rusanggongbu Mountain

Zhaqu Valley Tontian River

Lazanglongba

5.3.2 Diagram of significant sites surrounding the Jianamani Visitor Center.

5.3.3 Mani stones.

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1 workshop 2 office 3 security office 4 exhibition space 5 courtyard

5.3.4 Ground-floor plan. In addition to establishing visual ties with religious sites in the vicinity, the building also connects to place through its use of materials. In order to meet seismic requirements, the architects specified a conventional reinforced-concrete structural system; however, two teams of Tibetan stonemasons were responsible for constructing the building’s façade, following traditional

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methods. The material for the façade was sourced from the same location as the mani stones. Mani stone processing and carving is central to the local economy, and the original quarries are still functioning, making material plentiful and easy to access. Religious practice dictated, however, that only the raw stone, without inscriptions, could be used for building construction.

5.3.5 Stone masonry.

5.3.6 Viewing platform.

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Given the high altitude of the site, trees are scarce. The team opted to construct the viewing deck with materials collected from ruins around the city. Reusing the irregular sized members proved challenging, so the team constructed 1:1 mock-ups to study different connection methods that would be easy to execute in the field. The stone field of Gyanak Mani has been described as a “city of memory, a city of faith” that has been built over centuries and

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will continue to be erected for generations to come.11 The perpetual process of Gyanak Mani’s making inspired the design of the Jianamani Visitor Center; however, rather than growing and changing over time, the building remains fixed. Much like a single mani stone left at the site, the building stands as a conduit, connecting visitors to an array of significant locations, allowing them to understand and visualize their relationship with the sacred landscape surrounding the city.

5.4 Bry-sur-Marne Social Housing Architect: Eliet & Lehmann Architectes Location: Bry-sur-Marne, France Year: 2010

5.4.1 Courtyard elevation.

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During the post-World War II period, French architect Fernand Pouillon specified the use of stone masonry in a number of social housing estates in Paris and Marseilles. His work was informed by a deep understanding of construction and of economic constraints. The architect selected stone construction for its durability and power to elevate public housing by evoking the “monumental tradition of French architecture.”12 Pouillon proved that it was possible to standardize and rationalize stone masonry construction so that it could remain competitive with modern, prefabricated systems. The Paris-based firm of Eliet & Lehmann is among a small group of French architects that have once again returned to solid stone construction in recent years. In its design and execution of social housing in a suburb of Paris, the firm maintains Pouillon’s ideals and tests their viability in the twenty-first century. The project began as a competition entry submitted to the French social housing agency Immobilière 3F. Building economical multifamily housing in the Île-de-France region is challenging, and minimizing construction costs without sacrificing quality was a high priority for the project team. In order to reduce long-term expenses related to building maintenance, the firm gave special attention to detailing and execution from the outset; the decision to use solid stone masonry also gave the architects tight control over production costs. Much like the French master builders of previous eras, Denis Eliet and Laurent Lehmann have developed a thorough understanding of construction, beginning with its origins, be they in the stone quarry or the manufacturing plant. Lehmann explains, “Each material, when it reaches the building site, has already experienced a long history of successive transformations. This complex process, craft or industrial, responds to specific rules that are derived from the nature of the material, its method of extraction, existing tools, and local economic conditions. These rules determine the possible, the doable.”13 By controlling the principles behind production, the architects have realized 16 lowcost housing units constructed almost entirely from solid stone—an unusual move today, given that the cost of the material typically limits its use to thin veneers. The apartment building is located in a neighborhood characterized by its mix of small, single-family homes and low-rise apartment

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buildings. Keeping with the scale of the area and using the length of the parcel to their advantage, the architects divided the program onto two apartment blocks and positioned them back-toback on the 12.5-meter-wide plot, so as to create a ground-level parking court and garden between. The apartment blocks are five stories high with a pair of one- and two-bedroom units per floor; each is joined by a small lobby served by an elevator and a central stairwell. The richness of stone and wood in select areas offsets the ordinariness of standard interior finishes found in the apartments and shared spaces. The apartments access generous balconies constructed entirely of wood; the material transforms the quality of light entering and warms the white walls of the living spaces. The balconies are located on the exterior-facing façades of the complex, while stone is visible on the side and courtyard elevations. Because of its high price, stone is not commonly used for affordable housing, and the material lends the project an unexpected sense of solidity and luxury, although the cost of construction was €2,000 per square meter (roughly $200 per square foot), which is only slightly more expensive than reinforced concrete. The building methods used also associate the project with the regional tradition of stone masonry construction. To keep transport costs low, limestone originating from the Noyant quarry, located 100 kilometers from the Bry-sur-Marne site, was selected for the exterior walls of the building. The underground quarry was opened in the eleventh century and the excavated material has since been used to construct houses, castles, and churches in the area. Noyant is located in the Paris Basin, a geological region defined by sedimentary deposits that formed when a shallow sea covered most of Northern France roughly 50 million years ago. Gothic churches are still the most prevalent stone structures found in the region, and their locations correspond almost exactly with the limestone formations beneath them.14 Stone masonry construction requires advanced planning. The exact position and size of the blocks must be determined early on in the design process and are effected by the constraints of extracting, finishing, transport, and assembly. The smallest openings in the façade, the bathroom windows, determined the vertical height of the coursing; the module for the finished stone was 94 by 55.4 by 25 centimeters, with an average

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1 main entry 2 living / dining 3 kitchen 4 balcony 5 bedroom

5.4.2 Main floor plans and longitudinal section.

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5.4.3 East elevation.

5.4.4 Noyant quarry.

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weight of 140 kilograms. The architects’ repetition of the same module throughout the project minimized cutting time and waste at the quarry, ultimately reducing cost. They also saved money by using platbands to span openings. Traditionally employed by the Romans, platbands are an efficient way to bridge square openings with smaller pieces of material, rather than relying on solid lintels made from concrete or stone, which are often more expensive. The stone for the apartments was quarried at an average depth of 23 meters below grade and then transported to a nearby production workshop, where craftspeople cut and shaped it into blocks. Precision during the cutting phase insured rapid assembly of the blocks during construction. The finished materials were labeled, stacked onto pallets, and packed with straw for protection during transport. After delivery on site, the masons checked the layout plans and the stones were lifted into their assigned positions by attaching the crane hooks to specially prepared holes in the blocks. Plaster mortar was applied to edges of the blocks to hold them in place. The stone masonry is loadbearing and works together with the reinforced concrete foundation, floor decks,

BÂTIMENT 1

Niv

Niv

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niveau d’implantation

niveau d’implantation

coupe 2-2

5.4.5 Section and elevation detail.

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5.4.6 Cut stone.

5.4.7 Stone assembly.

and stair core. The 25-centimeter-thick masonry walls were designed with horizontal and vertical slots that permit the floor decks and vertical structure to interlock with the stone. To prevent thermal bridging at these points, a loadbearing insulation element was installed at each external junction between the concrete slab and the stone façades. A 10-centimeter layer of ridged insulation was also installed on the inner surface of the walls. Because of these measures, the project meets the French “Très Haute Performance Énergétique” (Very High Energy Performance) standard, which signifies that the building uses 20 percent less energy than required by national energy regulations for new construction.

Lehmann describes building with stone as an archaic and precise process: archaic, because the material is still sourced from the same centuries-old quarries, and precise, because contemporary development requires speed and efficiency.15 In France, production methods have been altered enough to remain competitive with mainstream construction methods. Practical experience and advanced planning from the side of the architect is also necessary in order to achieve efficiency and economy with stone masonry systems. To build in this way, observes Lehmann, requires the ability to reconcile tradition with “the materialist condition of the here and now.”16

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5.5 Wind and Water Bar Architect: Vo Trong Nghia Architects ‫ޟ‬ Location: Thu Dâ`u Mô·t, Bình Du’o’ng Province, Vietnam Year: 2008

5.5.1 Wind and Water Bar exterior.

Vietnamese architect Vo Trong Nghia’s considerable body of work includes many buildings constructed from bamboo: so many, in fact, that his office quite possibly holds the world record for the most bamboo structures designed by an architect. Aware of growing concerns for the environment in his country, the architect has exploited the benefits of this widely available and rapidly renewable resource. Building with bamboo can lower energy costs, and many of Nghia’s projects rely on natural ventilation strategies that integrate evaporative cooling with lightweight bamboo structures. In Vietnam, the material is still strongly associated with rural living, and the architect uses this connection to his advantage when working in newly urbanized contexts: the work quite

literally brings the countryside to the city, evoking connections to nature and the traditional Vietnamese lifestyle. The Wind and Water Bar sits adjacent to the Wind and Water Café, Nghia’s initial project made from bamboo. The bar was the second bamboo building designed by Nghia, but it was the firm’s first all-bamboo structure. The landscaping surrounding the café and bar provides ‫ޟ‬ a green oasis in the fast-growing Thu Dâ`u Mô·t, a satellite of Ho Chi Minh City and an important industrial hub in Bình Du’o’ng province. The bar is positioned at the entry of the Wind and Water complex and, unlike the open-roofed café, the bar is enclosed by an inwardly focused thatched dome—a shape that is well suited for its function as a venue for musical performances and

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1 entrance 2 hall 3 stage 4 bar

5.5.2 Plan and section.

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community gatherings. The 10-meter-high dome appears to float in the center of an artificial lake, which is in reality a concrete basin holding about 30 centimeters of water. Large stepping-stones lead over the water, through the entrance portal, and on into a central space, which is defined by a bar on one side and a stage on the other. Light enters through deeply framed windows located at the base of the structure and through a 1.5-meter oculus at the top of the dome. This configuration of openings works in tandem with the building’s form to naturally ventilate the space. As hot air rises and exits, cool air is pulled over the surface of the lake and into the space through the lower openings. Even though the average outdoor air temperature is about 35 degrees Celsius, the temperature inside remains a comfortable 25 degrees throughout the year. The bamboo for the project was sourced locally and is of a species native to Vietnam. Tam Vong, also known as ‘iron bamboo,’ is extremely strong; the first few feet of the plant are solid, while the rest of the culm develops an exceptionally thick outer wall. The material is inexpensive, and its sturdy form can withstand drilling and hardware installation without splitting. Prior to construction, the culms used for the dome were harvested and, while still green, flamed with a torch and bent along a template to insure a consistent curvature for each section. The application of heat loosens the culm

fibers, which augments bending and stabilizes the deformation. To prevent decay and repel insects, the bamboo was then soaked in a mud bath for several months and subsequently smoked and dried. The dome’s form was dictated by the bending properties of the material, and the height of the space was achieved by splicing bamboo segments together. The structure of the dome consists of 48 prefabricated units, each of which spans 15 meters and was designed taking the forces within the structure into account. At the base, where loads are greatest, more culms were used; the number of members decreases as the structure ascends to the top of the dome. Straight members intersect the arch at critical points, triangulating forces and bringing loads down to the foundation. Where members overlap, they are connected by a bamboo dowel and bound with rope. Pegging and lashing is the traditional way of making connections and the team found this method to be more cost-effective and less visually obtrusive than using metal connectors. A non-traditional connection was used at the junction between the bamboo structure and the foundation, however: each unit was tied to a steel pipe T-connector embedded in the reinforced concrete footing. The building was enclosed by attaching split bamboo laths to the outer structure of the units and then covering the substructure, first with a woven rattan

5.5.3 Bamboo framing.

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5.5.4 Roof structure

5.5.5 Foundation connection.

mat and then with protective layers of rattan peel thatch. Rattan peel is a byproduct of the furniture industry and has an expected lifespan of about 20 years. Prior to construction, a mock-up of one unit was constructed and tested for strength. The team used the mock-up to refine connection details and as a tool for training the construction team to work with bamboo. At the time, there were no bamboo construction specialists in the area, so Nghia brought knowledgeable farmers from his home village to train the construction workers. Once the mock-up had been developed, the sections were fabricated in a staging area located on the site. Systematizing the unit assembly allowed for a greater level of accuracy, reduced problems with irregular culm dimensions, facilitated installation, and shortened construction time to just three months. All of these efficiencies, together with the low cost of bamboo and the use of offcuts from construction for furnishings and fixtures, made the project extremely economical, despite its bespoke construction methods.

The Wind and Water Bar is representative of many projects by Vo Trong Nghia. Its scale and function fulfill contemporary needs, but its form and substance recall another time and place. Vietnam is one of the fastest urbanizing countries in the world, and green space in and around its cities is quickly disappearing along with rural ways of life. As urban areas become more dense and polluted, there is a growing desire to reconnect with a simpler lifestyle more closely associated with the natural landscape. Bamboo is valuable in this regard; even after it is processed for construction, it retains its plant-like qualities, imbuing spaces with an organic character that is difficult to match with modern materials. In his work Nghia has also had to confront the challenges to working with the material on a larger scale. Consequently, he has developed construction methods that make financial sense within the contemporary marketplace of the rapidly developing country. To meet these requirements, the architect has combined older construction methods with newer techniques, such as

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5.5.6 Bar interior. prefabrication, in order to achieve less expensive, more reliable bamboo structures. Nghia’s bamboo structures could be dismissed as a nostalgic revival, but within the logic of their highly efficient construction is a potentially radical agenda. By

combining a rapidly renewable resource with streamlined fabrication, Nghia has reconfigured one of the oldest forms of construction to keep pace with the speed and cost of contemporary development.

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5.6 Haus am Moor Architect: Bernardo Bader Architekten Location: Krumbach, Austria Year: 2012

5.6.1 Haus am Moor east elevation.

Vorarlberg is located in the westernmost corner of Austria and shares a border with Germany, Liechtenstein, and Switzerland. Despite being the country’s second smallest province, Vorarlberg has earned a global reputation for the superior quality of its contemporary architecture. During the last three decades, this alpine region has become a model for collaboration between artisans, industry, and architects, continuing a place-based building culture founded on craft traditions. The revival of wood construction can be attributed to this unity between the building trades, as well as to an abundant supply of timber in the region. Along with tourism and agriculture, the timber industry is a primary driver of economic development;

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consequently, the number of trained carpenters in Vorarlberg is higher than anywhere else in Europe.17 Even though Vorarlberg is now highly industrialized, timber used in construction continues to be harvested locally and processed by family-owned businesses in rural villages. The Haus am Moor (House on the Moor), located on the outskirts of the small community of Krumbach, was constructed in this way, and much of the project was built by Bernardo Bader and his architectural team, working in close relationship with carpenters and other members of the construction team. The house spans the transition between forest and farmland, connecting to both natural and

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1 entrance / patio 2 entry 3 dining room 4 kitchen 5 pantry 6 living room 7 studio 8 garage 9 bedroom 10 master bedroom

5.6.2 Plans and transverse section.

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man-made landscapes through materiality and form. Bader describes the house as “baum und dach” (tree and roof), its solid profile seemingly carved from a tree, and its pitched roof alluding to barns dotting the countryside. From the exterior, the form of the house is deceivingly simple, but the play between single- and double-height rooms on the interior creates a rich array of spatial experiences. The house’s elongated north–south orientation serves to create a clear division between the village and the domestic sphere of the living spaces. The Tenne, a breezeway commonly found in traditional farmhouses, passes through the volume, forming the main entry on the east, or public, side of the house facing the village and a private deck extending toward the meadow and forest to the west. The addition of roomheight sliding doors at the ground level allows the breezeway to be used either as an extension of the indoor living spaces or as a covered portion of the deck. This space also serves to divide the garage and office from the main body of the house, creating a semi-detached studio apartment to the north. The house was constructed using a combination of timber framing for the structural elements, such as the roof and walls, and reinforced concrete for the core and slabs. Wood for the house was sourced from the client’s own stand of timber located near Schwarzenberg, about 15 kilometers from the site. The architect, together with a local forester, selected 20 spruce and 40 silver fir trees, which were felled in December during the phase of the new moon. According to traditional folk wisdom, the ideal time to harvest timber is in early winter, when the moon is barely visible. Scientists have confirmed the validity of this practice: lower sap levels during this period have a beneficial effect on the drying and durability of wood.18 After harvest, the wood was delivered to a nearby sawmill, where it was cut into planks and left to dry for several months. For the construction of the house, no engineered products were used, and every piece of lumber was exploited. This was accomplished by using scraps and lowerquality wood for less visible applications and by incorporating varying widths of lumber in certain areas. The structure’s highly insulated walls were constructed using prefabricated panels consisting of diagonal tongue-and-groove spruce boards installed over a timber framework. After delivery and installation on site, the panels were filled with cellulose-fiber insulation, covered with a

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weather-resistant barrier, and clad with larch board-and-batten siding on the exterior and with fir paneling on the interior. The roof was constructed with the same prefabricated system and then clad with standing seam copper sheets. Wood visible on the interior was planed smooth prior to installation and treated with a UV protective finish; the exterior remained unfinished and was left to weather. Fir was also used for the flooring, which was made by incorporating six different plank lengths, varying between 40 centimeters to 5 meters. In addition to the forest, the surrounding moor also became an important material source. When the basement and foundation were excavated, a large quantity of clay was discovered. The material was transported to a local brick factory and formed into 60-centimeter-thick blocks with channels. After air drying and installing the blocks, tubes for the hydronic heating system were inserted into the channels and the finished floor was installed on top. The blocks

5.6.3 Panel installation.

5.6.4 Studio interior.

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5.6.5 Foundation excavation.

5.6.6 Heating system installation.

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provide thermal mass for distributing warmth, generated by a ground source heat pump, to spaces on the first floor. Radiators warm the bedrooms on the upper floor. While the house is mechanically ventilated during the winter months, a combination of cross- and stackventilation help to keep the living spaces cool in the summer. Bader notes that the close ties between clients, architects, and craftspeople are responsible for the strong sense of Baukultur, or building culture, in his region. For him, building is not solely about materials and form but also about a way of working that is sensitive to clients and craftspeople alike.19 This is not a hasty process, and as a result the House am Moor took a little over one and a half years to build. Bader observes, “When building, we take our time.”20 With time comes quality and, in this case, economic and environmental advantages associated with the careful use of local resources.

Notes 1 Richard Weston, Materials, Form and Architecture (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 101. 2 Carolyn Dean, A Culture in Stone: Inka Perspectives on Rock (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010), 6–7. 3 David Leatherbarrow, Architecture Oriented Otherwise (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2009), 81. 4 Kenneth Frampton, “Towards a Critical Regionalism,” in The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture, ed. Hal Foster (Port Townsend, WA: Bay Press, 1983), 19. 5 Swedish Environmental Protection Agency, Naturum Visitor Centres in Sweden: National Guidelines (January, 2009), 3. 6 Tomas Carlberg, “Om Berg, Sjön Tåkern Och Ett Säreget Naturum,” Fauna Och Flora 108, no. 3 (2013): 10–15.

8 Monia Chies, “Post-Earthquake Death Rituality and Cultural Revitalization at the Tibetan Pilgrimage Site of Gyanak Mani in Yushu,” Studi e Materiali di Storia delle Religioni 80, no. 1 (2014): 318. 9 Ibid. 10 Brian Zhang Li, “On Continuum,” lecture delivered at Syracuse University, School of Architecture, Syracuse, NY, April 15, 2013. 11 Fang Wang. Geo-Architecture and Landscape in China’s Geographic and Historic Context (Singapore: Springer Singapore, 2016), 102. 12 Adam Caruso and Helen Thomas, eds., The Stones of Fernand Pouillon: An Alternative Modernism in French Architecture (Zurich: Gta Verlag, 2015), 9. 13 Eliet & Lehmann Architectes, exhibition catalog, Matière à Construire (2011), 5. 14 John James, “An Investigation into the Uneven Distribution of Early Gothic Churches in the Paris Basin,” Art Bulletin 66, no. 1 (March 1984): 15–46. 15 Laurent Lehmann, “Architecture, Entéléchie, Poésie,” Pierre Actual (September 2014): 29. 16 Ibid. 17 Andreas W. Voigt, “Die leise Renaissance eines faszinierenden Baustoffs,” Die Welt, April 16, 2016, www.welt.de/finanzen/immobilien/ article154420287/Die-leise-Renaissanceeines-faszinierenden-Baustoffs.html 18 Ernst Zürcher, “Lunar Rhythms in Forestry Traditions: Lunar-Correlated Phenomena in Tree Biology and Wood Properties,” Earth, Moon and Planets 85/86 (2001): 471–473. 19 Bernardo Bader, “Getting Things Done: Evolution of the Built Environment in Vorarlberg,” interview by Wolfgang Fiel, Hittisau, Austria, February 2, 2014. 20 Bernardo Bader (architect), from material provided by the office of Bernardo Bader Architekten, Dornbirn, Austria.

7 Peter Sheehan, “‘In the Interests of the General Peace’: The Architectural Development of al-JahilĦ Fort and Its Part within the Policy of Shaikh Zaˉyid Bin KhalĦfa,” Liwa: Journal of the National Center for Documentation & Research 4, no. 7 (2012): 37–57.

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Taylor & Francis Taylor & Francis Group http:/taylorandfrancis.com

6 Primitive to Performative

6.1 Earthquake-resistant construction at the Aknaibich Preschool.

In the past, materials used for construction retained properties intrinsic to their fundamental origins. Builders often capitalized on these essential qualities by using them to regulate environmental forces. They selected materials for their capacity to react to and modulate climatic conditions, such as airflow, humidity, and temperature. Massive stone walls, for instance, were incorporated in ways that allowed them to store and radiate the sun’s warmth in winter and slow heat transmission in summer. In some cases, environmental conditions caused materials to behave in undesirable ways. Builders developed systems to regulate these responses. This type of adaptation can be observed in traditional timber structures found in many parts of the world, where connections between construction elements have been shaped to allow for dimensional changes caused by variations in moisture content. Whereas previously buildings accommodated and even exploited these types of reciprocal exchanges between materials and their environment, today construction codes emphasize permanence and rigidity. Non-conforming materials are generally considered weak and therefore undesirable. The demand for consistency and standardization has resulted in the homogenization of materials, restricting their performance to a few predictable behaviors.1 Altering a material’s composition or structure to increase consistency reduces its capacity to interact with the environment and may eliminate beneficial properties. For example, the addition of cement to raw earth used in rammed or mud brick construction increases the material’s resistance to water absorption—a good thing under certain circumstances. This also, however, makes reusing the material or returning it to its original state very challenging. While the need to control and predict material behavior is often necessary, there are times when eliminating this constraint can open up new possibilities. Projects in this chapter highlight interactions and exchanges between material systems and the immediate environment, used to far-ranging effect. Haus Rauch in Austria [6.3], for example, demonstrates a different attitude toward the contemporary notion of permanence. Constructed from soil excavated from the site, the building’s walls were not stabilized with cement or other additives; the house has been designed to “simply crumble apart at the end of its lifetime.”2 Soil is the product of erosion, and this same process acts on the exterior façades. The flow

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of water is hindered only by the introduction of ceramic tiles. Here, the inevitable has been allowed to slowly wear away the building’s surfaces, albeit over a long period of time.

Materials and the Environment Some of the case studies featured in this chapter demonstrate how local resources can be mobilized in response to certain climatic conditions. Bamboo, for example, grows well in tropical regions, and its slim proportion and great strength make it an attractive option for constructing light, airy structures suited to hot, humid climates. The Pani Community Center [6.2] demonstrates the strength of bamboo and its capacity to form a tall and slender, yet stable, canopy. The lightweight structure encourages natural ventilation and offers sun and rain protection in Bangladesh’s subtropical climate. At the opposite end of the spectrum is the Kargyak Learning Center [6.1], located in one of the highest inhabited regions on the world. The village’s extreme altitude makes heating during the winter months difficult, so a “micro Trombe wall” system, relying on the thermal properties of stone and mud brick, was introduced. These resources constitute the only building materials typically available in this remote part of India; sourcing them on site eliminated the time and expense of transporting them, allowing much of the construction to take place during the short Himalayan summer season. In addition to tempering the ambient environment, materials can direct and regulate the flow of water. Thatch made with overlapping layers of grass, leaves, or reeds has long been used as a method for shedding rainwater from buildings in many parts of the world. The undulating roof of the Thread artist residency [6.6] combines the water-resistant qualities of local grass with an optimized form to collect water in the droughtprone Tambacounda region of Senegal. In addition, the cellular nature of the compact grass bundles forms an effective barrier against the sun, while the orientation of the stalks helps to guide warm air up and out of the main spaces of the building. Materials also can be marshaled to provide protection against the greater forces of nature, such as earthquakes and typhoons. Bamboo performs well in the face of both; the plant’s fibrous

composition provides structural stiffness and strength but also allows the material to bend and return to its original form without damage, even in extreme conditions. Many houses in Southeast Asia take advantage of bamboo’s high bending strength and have been known to withstand typhoon-force winds, even when more modern structures made from man-made materials do not. Using the strong and slender profile of the plant for support, traditional bamboo dwellings lift living spaces off the ground, away from the damp earth and seasonal flooding. Unlike industrially produced materials, which are generally imported, the plant is ubiquitous to the region, which makes sourcing and replacing broken elements easy after a storm. In this way bamboo offers a structural as well as ecological resiliency that few man-made materials can match. Severe weather patterns brought on by climate change have heightened the vulnerability of many communities throughout the world to flooding and storms and have led to great loss of life and property. Homes constructed from earth and plant-based materials are especially vulnerable to unusually harsh conditions. In addition, severe drought caused by global warming has also threatened the quality and availability of certain materials, such as bamboo, reed, and grasses, exerting further pressure on traditional modes of building. Addressing these problems is difficult, especially as native building expertise becomes a thing of the past. H&P Architects accounted for the lack of skilled craftspeople when developing their design for the Blooming Bamboo Home [6.5]. Taking its cues from the platform house found in many parts of Vietnam, the structure offers protection against storms and flooding. The home can be constructed by almost anyone because it is based on a rapidly deployable, flexible system of modules made from inexpensive, readily available resources such as bamboo. At times, a construction system may rely on the properties of a single material, but there are also

cases when two or more materials are combined to address the variety of conditions found at a particular location. Systems such as rammed earth and earth masonry, for example, might be well suited for maintaining comfortable temperatures in arid environments, but they are less than ideal in areas prone to earthquakes. Over the centuries, various materials have been paired with earth to increase its low tensile strength. One of the oldest techniques relies on bamboo strips to secure brick coursing, whereas another method of seismic reinforcement incorporates horizontal timber tie-beams in rammed earth and earth masonry construction. Wood members unify the behavior of earthen walls and add enough flexibility to improve a structure’s capacity to withstand lateral forces.3 The reinforcement strategy used at the Aknaibich Preschool [6.4] presents a modern interpretation of older applications. Morocco’s arid climate led the architects to enclose the building with three layers of unfired earth masonry to keep the building’s temperature comfortable, but their choice also left the building vulnerable to earthquakes. To solve this problem, a 12-centimeter reinforced concrete ring beam was incorporated between the brick coursing at three different levels. A minimal insertion of cement and steel improves the structural performance of the building without undermining the behavior of the earth construction. As many individuals in Aknaibich are abandoning local practices for newer methods, the architects devised a way to instead merge traditional and contemporary applications. Rather than deploy one element to perform a single function, as do many building assemblies today, the examples presented in this chapter illustrate how employing simple systems, made with a few materials, can accomplish many things. This strategy is most effective when the fundamental properties and behaviors of the resources at hand are well understood and utilized to their fullest capacity, even if their augmentation with newer technologies and systems is required.

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6.1 Kargyak Learning Center Architects: arch i platform (Anne Feenstra, Himanshu Lal, Sneha Khullar, Kushal Lachhwani) Location: Kargyak, India Year: 2012

6.1.1 View of learning center and Kargyak village. Kargyak is a small village located on the Kurgiak Chu River, which runs between the rugged Zanskar and Himalayan mountain ranges. At lower elevations, the mountain valleys offer an abundance of water and a relatively mild climate, creating an environment hospitable to settlement. The terrain and weather are still severe, however, as no valley is lower than 3,500 meters. Settlements are only accessible on foot, and inclement conditions hinder safe passage to and from the village six months out of the year, thus requiring it to be self-sustaining. Ladakh, the region where Kargyak is located, is a Tibetan Buddhist enclave situated in the predominantly Muslim and Hindu state of Jammu and Kashmir. Agriculture is the primary source of sustenance for the Ladakhi people, but a recent shift toward tourism and modernization has begun to alter the way of life for many in the region. The same is true for the community of Kargyak. Despite their isolation, many families now value formal education and wish to send their children to school. Until recently, only older children, strong enough to cross the mountain passes, could pursue their studies in the cities of Manali and Srinagar, three days’ travel from Kargyak. After completing their education, most choose to live in the city rather than return home. Meanwhile, the youngest children work the land with their parents until they are old enough to leave. While the desire for education is not the only cause of rural–urban migration, the limited number of schools in the area has contributed to this trend.

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As an acknowledgement of the lack of education infrastructure in Kargyak, the local administration initiated plans to build a standard school facility in collaboration with Blueland, the Czech NGO responsible for funding and managing construction for the building. Rather than build a governmentsanctioned concrete school, the organization invited Dutch architect Anne Feenstra and his New Delhi-based team to assist with the design and construction of the project. The client asked the team to design a facility that could function year-round and serve at least 40 children not yet old enough to make the trek to the city. The new school was situated below the local Gompa (temple), on the west-facing slope overlooking the valley, within a short walking distance from Kargyak and neighboring communities. The remote nature of the project and Feenstra’s experience planning similar structures in Afghanistan led the team to carefully examine construction techniques and materials close to the site. Timber is scarce in the region, but loose stone, mud, and straw are plentiful, and these materials are frequently utilized in Ladakhi construction. Buildings are typically constructed with earth masonry walls composed of river sand, clay, and straw, resting on dressed stone foundations. Each material serves a different purpose within the structure. Stone provides a solid damp course for the lower portion of the house, where the animals are kept; mud brick, which offers greater thermal resistance, is typically used for the upper living

spaces. Stone is more difficult to move and build with than mud brick, so it is used only where it is needed the most. Wood is also used sparingly and is usually reserved for structural applications, for example to support the roof or bridge window and door openings. Typically flat, roofs consist of large timber beams spanned by smaller joists. The structure is enclosed by laying small branches in rows on top of the roof members and then covering them with an insulative layer of compacted earth and grass or straw. The roof and the rest of the structure are usually rendered with clay plaster containing kaolin, chalk, or gypsum, which produces a clean, white finish. The team noted that all of the structures in Kargyak were self-built and required frequent repairs. Roofs in the village were especially vulnerable to water damage due to lack of drainage; recent changes in the weather pattern had increased incidences of waterlogging from sudden and intense downpours. In addition, most structures were not constructed to withstand a major earthquake.

The team developed a scheme based on local building practices but introduced several modifications to address the shortfalls observed in the field. A reinforced strip footing was added to the school’s stone foundation in order to meet seismic requirements. The building’s curvilinear form and positioning of its inner walls to buttress the exterior enclosure further reduced the possibility of damage from an earthquake. The roof was made in the traditional way, with layers of mud and straw, but was sloped in two directions at a 5 percent pitch to insure adequate roof drainage. The most significant modification of local building practices was the introduction of a double wall system for the school’s enclosure, which the team developed in response to Kargyak’s subzero temperatures and the vulnerability of mud brick construction to weathering. Sixty centimeters of stone masonry protect the exterior of the building, while an air gap and a 30-centimeter masonry wall insulate the interior. The layers work together, both as thermal storage and as further protection against seismic forces. The architects also utilized

6.1.2 Collecting stones.

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6.1.3 Exterior of Kargyak Learning Center.

6.1.4 Construction site.

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the thermal storage capacity of the earth masonry to augment other heat sources, such as heat gain from windows, body warmth, and the stove used in winter. The masons positioned brick panels behind sections of the school’s south-facing glazing. The cavities between the glass and brick collect heat during the day and can be opened during the cooler evening hours to introduce stored warm air into the interior. Workers also fashioned yak felt, another traditional material commonly found in Ladakh, into curtains to protect glazed areas from heat loss to the exterior. Yak felt curtains were also hung between interior thresholds to retain heat within individual rooms. The height of traditional Ladakhi living spaces are usually minimized to reduce the need for

6.1.6 Diagram of wall heat capture system.

6.1.7 Diagram of under-floor heating system.

6.1.5 Diagram of wall construction.

heating; the team followed this practice by limiting the interior height of the classrooms to 2.4 meters. The building’s thermal performance was also improved by the inclusion of a hypocaust (under-floor) heating system, which Feenstra had seen previously in Afghanistan.4 The system seemed ideal for the conditions found at Kargyak

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and was installed in the floor of the north-facing classroom. When fuel is burned in the fireplace, the system connected to an exhaust chimney siphons off smoke and heat through underground channels to warm the classroom. The team shaped the building in response to external forces and internal requirements. During their initial observations of the village, they noticed that corners of buildings had been worn away by the wind. The absence of corners in the school not only makes it more aerodynamic but also creates interior spaces that are conducive to gathering in groups. Kargyak receives roughly 300 days of sunshine each year, consequently daylight and solar heat gain were important for determining the location, size, and form of the windows. Local practice is to avoid harsh southern light, but the school’s windows were positioned to maximize southern exposure to increase access to warmth and daylight. The infiltration of daylight through the meter-thick walls was also increased by chamfering the sides of the deep openings. The local climate and terrain not only influenced the design of the school, but it also informed the construction process. Construction was planned for the warmer months and extended over a twoyear period. With limited good weather, the team lost little time in gathering and producing building materials. Resources close to the site were used wherever possible and, in instances where this was not feasible, materials were transported by mule from the town of Manali over the Shingo-La mountain pass. The trip took three days in both directions, and the size and weight of goods were

limited by the carrying capacity of the animals. Many items were downsized for transport. For example, the steel reinforcement for the foundation was precut and bent, and glazing was reduced. The roof beams, which were too heavy to carry by this method, were transported in winter over the frozen Kurgiak Chu by sledge. During the planning phase, the team invited feedback from local residents, and during construction, the community’s participation was encouraged by paying workers for their efforts. The design team, volunteers from Blueland, and several local residents worked together to complete the project with the help of a few skilled masons and carpenters. The finished building is modest and unassuming, and even though its form and construction do not fully conform to local conventions, it blends harmoniously with the landscape and the village. The community has also taken complete ownership of the school; its simple, open layout and comfortable interiors encouraged them to adapt the spaces to serve a variety of purposes. Project architect Kushal Lachhwani notes that in addition to being a school, the building has also served as “a common cooking area, a community center, a storage house for food and tools, a tworoom guest house, a police station, temporary medical camp” and more.5 Having survived several winters since its completion, the Kargyak Learning Center confirms that, with a few minor modifications, mud and stone can still be relied upon to withstand some of the most severe conditions on earth.

6.1.8 Floor plan.

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6.2 Pani Community Center Architect: SchilderScholte Architects Location: Rajarhat, Bangladesh Year: 2014

6.2.1 Northwest corner Pani Community Center.

Rivers cut through the alluvial plane of northern Bangladesh’s Kurigram District, providing fertile soil for the cultivation of rice and wheat. While forming the basis of the region’s agricultural economy, however, rivers also pose a serious threat by flooding during the monsoon season, destroying crops and houses every year. Rebuilding places a huge burden on an already impoverished population. Often the only way for families to survive is to sell their land and move to urban areas. Natural disasters and illegal land appropriations have displaced millions of Bangladeshi people, many of whom are ethnic minorities. Displaced individuals struggle to make a living, and their children are often unable to attend school. Without access to resources or education, it is difficult to break the cycle of poverty.

In 2013 the Pani Foundation, a Dutch aid organization, proposed funding a technical school in the city of Rajarhat. The center was intended to support the needs of the area’s landless population by providing educational programs, childcare, and social engagement. Gerrit Schilder Jr. and Hill Scholte, the founding principals of the Rotterdam-based architecture firm SchilderScholte Architects, answered an open call by the foundation to design the 910-squaremeter complex that would offer skills training to men and women. At the new center, men would learn how to fabricate bamboo bicycles, and the women could become proficient in sewing and working with textiles. The trainees could also earn money by selling their wares in the shop on the ground floor of the complex. While parents were

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working or training, their children would have the opportunity to attend school on the premises. The center would also serve as a social hub, offering disenfranchised members of the community a place for gathering and fellowship. Based on observations made at the site, the architects determined that climate and the availability of materials (and the relationship between the two) were critical to the design and execution of the building. Bangladeshis have long relied on perishable materials, such as mud, bamboo, grass, and jute, in constructing their homes; more durable materials, such as stone and burnt brick, were traditionally reserved for religious buildings. It was only during British rule (1757–1947) that housing constructed from brick was introduced. Today, many prefer corrugated metal and masonry, but these are only employed when funds are available.6 With these preferences in mind, the architects selected bamboo and brick for the primary structure of the building. Even though bamboo is generally viewed as an inferior material, the architects decided that the center could serve to showcase the plant’s potential. The

6.2.2 Plaza.

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team worked to maximize the structural efficiency of both bamboo and brick; more significantly, the architects utilized the properties of each to enhance the thermal performance of the building. Northern Bangladesh experiences its rainy season from June to September. During this time, temperatures can reach upwards of 30 degrees Celsius, while winter temperatures remain between 10 and 15 degrees Celsius. In response to these conditions, the architects proposed combining the lightness of bamboo with the mass of masonry. The strength of the bamboo structural system permitted the roof of the building to be raised to a height of more than 6 meters. This arrangement reduces the accumulation of heat at the lower levels by promoting cross ventilation in and around the enclosed amenities while providing shade. The masonry portion of the structure regulates the climate and daylighting of the enclosed spaces. On hot days with lower nighttime temperatures, the thick walls serve to keep interiors cool. Narrow openings and small windows in the walls promote airflow and also filter daylight entering the

6.2.3 Classroom south elevation. interior. In winter, it rarely freezes, but nighttime temperatures can still be quite cold. For this reason, the architects suggested adding shutters to the windows (although these have not yet been implemented). To avoid flooding during the rainy season, houses in Bangladesh are typically raised on stilts or constructed on mounds of compacted earth. Following this practice, the community center was constructed on a U-shaped masonry plinth raised approximately 30 centimeters above the ground. Much like a traditional Bangladeshi courtyard house, the enclosed spaces are arranged around a central yard: the shop and workshop define the northern corner of the complex and the classroom and lavatory structures form the south side. Local skills and expertise shaped the design of the center. A contractor from Rajarhat was charged with overseeing construction, and laborers from within 25 kilometers of the site were hired to complete the project. The architects communicated with the construction team through an interpreter, but also through a physical model, so as to convey

their design intentions without needing to rely on drawings or text. The architects also simplified the building assembly and details so that the contractor could more easily communicate them to the team. The straightforward nature of the design also gave workers the freedom to innovate and to suggest modifications during construction. After the foundation was dug by hand and the masonry strip footings were laid, workers installed the bamboo columns. For column fabrication, two long culms were used for the main length of the member, and shorter extensions were added to either end and secured with a threaded metal rod. Each column was connected to the foundation by mortaring the end of the extension into the masonry footing. In areas where the columns are freestanding, workers joined their midsections with a bamboo tie-beam in order to prevent the members from buckling. In cases where the columns were located next to masonry walls, the center tie-beam was extended into the brickwork, serving also as a ceiling rafter for the interior spaces. This connection provides lateral support

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6.2.4 Ground-floor plan and longitudinal sections.

for the bamboo framework and prevents roof uplift. The corrugated metal roof, which echoes the shape of the plinth, rests on bamboo rafters attached to the 5- by 5-meter grid of bamboo columns. The masons laid the brickwork using a running bond pattern for the shorter, non-loadbearing

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walls and an English bond for the longer walls, where additional support for the ceiling rafters was needed. The alternate coursing of stretchers and headers was modified on the south façade of the building to form a series of U-shaped brick piers separated by vertical openings. To

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6.2.5 Bamboo column details.

6.2.6 Work area.

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6.2.7 Brick pier construction.

6.2.8 Classroom interior.

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pour the concrete floor plates, formwork was installed on top of bamboo rafters spanning between the north- and south-facing walls. After completion, the masonry volumes were finished with plaster and painted in certain areas. The interior spaces were painted light blue, a color known to repel flies. Bright yellow paint contrasts with the natural color of the plaster to animate the courtyard façades and the classroom window openings. An additional layer of bamboo poles was added to the shop and workshop block as a

reference to the bamboo bicycles produced on the premises. The architects have combined ordinary materials common to Bangladesh—bamboo and fired brick masonry—in a way that maximizes their structural and thermal capacity. The bamboo roof protects the brick structure from sun and rain, while the masonry provides a ballast for the bamboo framework. The interaction between these two systems creates a protective yet inviting environment for its occupants.

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6.3 Haus Rauch Architect: Roger Boltshauser, Boltshauser Architekten Builder: Martin Rauch, Lehm Ton Erde Baukunst GmbH Location: Schlins, Austria Year: 2008

6.3.1 Haus Rauch west elevation.

Haus Rauch hugs a grassy slope overlooking Schlins, a small town in Austria that lies at the foot of the Rätikon mountain range. This section of the Eastern Alps was formed when tectonic forces caused fossilized ocean beds to fold and rise, leaving behind layered deposits of sandstone and clay. Today, Haus Rauch reveals the hidden geological processes of the region within the horizontal layers of its walls. Raw subsoil from the site, which forms the basis for 85 percent of the building, was minimally altered during construction. The use of straightforward techniques, such as ramming, forming, and firing, as well as the reduction of artificial stabilization, reinforcement, and cladding, have resulted in a house that interacts directly with the forces of nature rather than opposing them.

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Martin Rauch, a native of Schlins, has been building and fabricating with earth since 1983. His attention to the material was inspired by traditions found not in his homeland but in Africa, where he spent time as an aid worker as a young man. Today, as a master craftsman, Rauch is testing the limits of what many consider to be the most rudimentary of building materials. Through progressive innovation he aims to challenge local as well as global perceptions of earth-based construction. Having channeled many years of experience into building his own home, Rauch demonstrates that a highly efficient three-story house made from earth is entirely feasible. Construction for the house began with digging out the foundations. The team transported the excavated material to a nearby work yard, where

6.3.2 Rammed earth with tile inserts. it was first sifted to remove larger stones; these stones were later used to form the cellar vaults of the house, as well as to build walls throughout the neighborhood. A second pass through the sieve removed particles larger than 3 centimeters in diameter; this material served as aggregate for the floors and stair treads, and as backfill. After sorting and mixing the remaining material, cast tests were used to determine what portion was suitable for construction. Half of the excavated soil was returned to the building site, and the other half was transported to Rauch’s workshop, where it was incorporated into products such as prefabricated wall elements, and fireplaces. The house rests on a continuous, unreinforced concrete footing made from a mixture of cement, trass lime, and aggregate. Loadbearing rammed earth walls were positioned directly on top of the footing. The walls were constructed in layers, or lifts: the team erected slip formwork, filled it with earth, and tamped the material with pneumatic backfill tampers. The spacing between the formwork was set at 45 centimeters, which

allowed room for working and also resulted in a wall thickness that fulfilled the structural and thermal requirements of the house. After reaching a compacted height of roughly 8 centimeters, another layer of loose earth was added to the formwork and tamped. Ceramic tiles were laid against the exterior edge of the formwork every third layer. After the layers of compacted earth reached the top of the formwork, it was removed and reinstalled at the upper part of the finished wall section and the tamping process would begin again. At the junctures between the floors and the walls, reinforced, trass-lime ring beams were poured along the loadbearing walls. The beams support the horizontal structure of the house and stabilize the walls at each floor level. The upper floor structure was fabricated using tightly spaced timber beams, rough-milled on three sides. After installation, the unfinished surface of the wood was leveled with a mixture of cork and trass lime, and then topped with a rammed earth floor. This form of construction, known locally as Dippelbaumdecke,

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6.3.3 Wall construction.

6.3.4 Longitudinal section.

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Trass lime ring beam with reinforcing Rammed earth 45 cm Mud brick erosion protection Reed insulation

Earth plaster 3 cm with wall heating

6.3.6 Heating system installation.

6.3.5 Exterior wall detail. was common to southern Germany and Austria before the 1900s and was selected for the house because of its exceptional strength and favorable acoustic properties. In addition, earth is highly compatible with the wood, which, because of its lower moisture content, is able to extract excess humidity from the timber floor structure. The below-grade portions of the foundation and walls were covered with 10 centimeters of foam glass insulation and waterproofed with bitumen. The roof of the building was insulated with 20 centimeters of reed matting, covered with sheets of oriented strand board, and sealed with bitumen. A layer of crushed pumice was installed over the waterproofing and covered with ceramic tiles. The exterior of the building was left unfinished; an insulating layer of reed matting was installed over interior surfaces and rendered with an earth plaster finish.

6.3.7 Reed insulation installation.

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Other than the roof membrane, and the areas in contact with the ground, the surfaces of the house were left bare or finished in a fashion that allow them to freely transmit humidity and warmth to adjacent spaces, so as to maintain consistent and comfortable indoor temperatures year-round. The house relies on natural ventilation in summer, and in winter, heat is distributed via a hydronic system of tubes installed under the plaster in the walls. Heat for this system is generated by three sources: the solar hot water collectors on the roof, a pellet burning stove, and a wood-fired oven. The house’s rammed earth floors also warm the living spaces by absorbing and emitting solar radiation entering through large openings to the exterior. Another area of interaction between the house and the environment occurs on the exterior, where the raw, rammed earth of the façade has been left to weather. The walls rely solely on naturally occurring clay for stabilization; over time, water running down the vertical surfaces will loosen and wash away soil particles. Ceramic tile inserts break the flow of water, slowing down the process of erosion to the point of insignificance. The ceramic pavers on the roof also regulate water, but in a different manner. Produced in Rauch’s workshop, the 4-centimeter-thick pavers were made with a lime and clay mixture containing additional moisture, which vaporized during the firing process, leaving behind small pores in the ceramic. During a rainstorm, water seeps through the pavers and is absorbed by the layer of crushed pumice below, or in instances when the amount of runoff is too great to be retained, it drains to the waterproofing layer and flows out behind the house. By controlling the movement and evaporation of water on the roof, this system reduces runoff and helps to keep the house cool in summer. The materials used to construct Haus Rauch were not treated as inert substances but rather

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6.3.8 Interior walls finished with clay plaster. as active constituents in calibrating and reacting to environmental processes in and around the building. The house’s rammed earth walls temper seasonal cycles and alter the interior climate through their capacity to absorb and release moisture and warmth. On the exterior, water interacts with the building’s surfaces, wearing away small amounts of material over time. Rauch refers to this as “controlled erosion,” a process that will eventually return the building to the site, where it once originated.7

6.4 Aknaibich Preschool Architect: BC architects + MAMOTH Location: Aknaibich, Morocco Year: 2014

6.4.1 Aknaibich Preschool west elevation.

Aknaibich, like many other communities in the province of Agadir, is in transition. Its inhabitants are leaving their agrarian way of life to seek work in the city. Migration and urban development are changing the character and structure of the village: tightly spaced alleys confined by compound walls of rammed earth and mud brick are giving way to wider streets lined with isolated, reinforced concrete structures. Aknaibich’s residents continue to appreciate the aesthetics and comfort of their traditional homes, but the time-consuming nature of their construction and the limitations of local resources have led many to choose faster, easier methods of building. In the past, inhabitants constructed loadbearing walls from mud brick rendered with

earth plaster; roofs were made with eucalyptus or palm timber and finished with a layer of earth. In older structures, the dimensions and strength of available timber, capable of spanning only 3 to 4 meters, limited the size of interior spaces. Today homeowners prefer more spacious rooms, with dimensions only obtainable with concrete and steel. The substitution of one material for another may bring certain advantages, but the shift is not without drawbacks. Concrete-based structures do not modulate external temperatures as well as do earth-based construction; homes are subsequently less comfortable during the hottest and coolest times of the year. In addition, commercial materials must be transported great distances to rural areas, increasing cost, which

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6.4.2 Plan and transverse section.

puts newer methods of construction out of reach for many families. A study of the region conducted by the French aid organization GoodPlanet identified Aknaibich as a community in need of education facilities for preschool-age children. As part of GoodPlanet’s “Bioclimatic Schools” program, the foundation worked with the Ministry of National Education of Agadir and the local township to initiate the project, and to select the grounds of the Al Hidaya School

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as the site for the new facilities. Architects Dorian Vauzelle of the MAMOTH collective and Nicolas Coeckelberghs of BC architects were invited by GoodPlanet to design and oversee the construction of a one-room annex to serve children under the age of 6. After holding a workshop with community members, the architects developed a proposal for a new courtyard that would serve both the existing school and the new annex. The architects

6.4.3 Classroom north elevation.

6.4.4 Classroom interior.

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proposed to locate the new classroom building and a walled play area at the east end of the school’s central gathering space. The preschool was designed to open out onto a smaller, enclosed courtyard, which the architects decided to partially cover with a wooden pergola that offers shade to students sitting, swinging, and playing underneath the structure. The architects designed the preschool to operate in tandem with the seasons. Each face of the building is configured to regulate the interior climate by responding to its particular orientation through the position and size of its openings and the design of its earth masonry. The compact classroom is situated at the south end of the play yard, an ideal location for controlling solar heat gain and daylight. Tall glass doors are positioned on the north façade to allow for ample, indirect natural lighting, while openings to the south were minimized so as to avoid direct sunlight and overheating of the interior. The south wall is positioned to absorb heat during the day and to radiate warmth during the cooler evening hours. Openings on the north and south walls increase cross ventilation, keeping the classroom cool in summer. The architects designed the east- and west-facing walls of the preschool without openings, which were constructed with two layers of brick facing the exterior and a 10-centimeter air gap and single layer of masonry facing the interior. With a total thickness of 70 centimeters, the walls insulate the building and enhance the acoustic performance of the classroom. After observing the transformations occurring in the village, the team resolved to build with native resources, but in a way that would overcome many of their deficiencies. Using contemporary building regulations as a guide, the architects proposed several improvements that would bring older methods of construction up to current standards. The most significant development to emerge from this process was the structural augmentation of earth and stone masonry so as to conform to Morocco’s seismic building regulations (Règlement de Construction Parasismique), as well as France’s seismic regulations for earth construction (Le Règlement Parasismique des Constructions en Terre). The architects used these norms to inform the development of structural connections and in determining wall thickness, size of openings, and to establish optimal mixes for rammed earth and earth masonry.

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The architects began their efforts to improve the overall performance of the building by conducting field tests to determine the quality and characteristics of the soil that would be used for the loadbearing masonry walls of the building and for the rammed earth walls surrounding the play area’s perimeter. The bricks for the project were to be produced on site. In preparation, several blocks made from different soil mixtures and stabilizers were subjected to various tests in order to determine their compressive strength and resistance to water and abrasion. Based on data from this analysis, soil from the site was amended with clayey material sourced from the nearby Oued River. This optimized mix was used to produce blocks that met the team’s criteria for structural stability, durability, and thermal performance. To further bolster the masonry structure against seismic forces, the construction team incorporated a series of steel reinforced masonry piers, which were tied into the stone foundation and the northand south-facing walls of the preschool by way of 12-centimeter-thick concrete ring beams that occur at the foundation, the top of the door openings, and the juncture between the walls and the timber roof assembly. The team increased the structural capacity of local timber by treating the beams with oil and doubling up on primary roof members. This resulted in an overall classroom size of 7.5 by 4.2 meters. Beams were installed on top of the ring beam and then mortared and bolted into the structure. Ceiling joists spanning between the beams were fabricated from short lengths of wood, which were staggered to increase their bearing area at support points. Tightly spaced rattan rods were installed over the top of the roof assembly. Traditional roofs are flat, and typically enclosed with a layer of earth and finished with plaster. The team improved on this assembly by adding 10 centimeters of cork insulation and a waterproof membrane beneath the final layer of earth and plaster. To protect the mud brick against weather and abrasion, the exterior of the building was finished with plaster render, known locally as tamelas, which consists of straw, sand, and clay-rich soil. A finer finish was applied to the interior walls. Called nouss-nouss (half-half) in Berber, the mixture is made by combining sieved dry clay with gypsum and water, which results in a durable, luminous surface that can be easily decorated with paint. In designing the preschool, the architects returned to age-old practices that depend on

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2 3 1 concrete roof ring beam - 12 cm 2 vertical and braced reinforcement bars - 8 mm 3 metal mesh mortar reinforcement 4 earth masonry 5 concrete layer - 12 cm 6 plaster layer - exterior: lime earth straw interior: gypsum earth straw 7 river stone masonry skirting 8 concrete foundation tie beam 9 river stone masonry foundation 10 foundation bedding 11 11 cement screed floor 12 hardcore - 20 cm 12 13 compacted earth - 30 cm 13 14 subsoil 14

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6.4.5 Detail of reinforced masonry piers.

6.4.6 Classroom construction.

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the density of earthen walls to keep spaces cool in summer and warm in winter; this strategy eliminated the need for additional sources of heating and cooling in the building. Many of the limitations attributed to earth masonry construction were overcome through material testing and the addition of modern materials such as steel and concrete. By drawing on local expertise, previous project experience, and knowledge gained while studying at the International Centre for Earth Construction (CRAterre), Coeckelberghs and Vauzelle successfully combined traditional methods with modern practices to create what they define as “contemporary vernacular,” an architecture that responds to the current needs and demands of the local community and the environment. Despite being modest in size, the architects hope that the lessons learned during the construction of the preschool will serve as a model for future schools in other rural areas of Morocco.8 6.4.7 Cork roof insulation.

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6.5 Blooming Bamboo Home Architect: H&P Architects Location: Flood-prone areas in Vietnam Year: 2013

6.5.1 Blooming Bamboo Home exterior. Water—and the perpetual struggle to control it— have played a significant role in shaping the culture and landscape of Vietnam.9 Water is essential for growing rice and other life-sustaining crops, and yet its destructive forces can also wreak havoc on fields and villages every year. Vietnam experiences more natural disasters caused by tropical storms than almost any other country in the world. In the most extreme cases, the country may experience ten or more typhoons a year, many of which bring flash flooding to low-lying areas, especially in the Mekong Delta. Climate change has already contributed to the increase and severity of tropical storms, and this trend is expected to escalate.10 The problem of flooding in Vietnam is compounded by the fact that most of its population resides along river deltas or in coastal regions. These locations are suitable for rice cultivation

but are also prone to inundation from high levels of rainfall. As a result of flooding, farmers can lose crops, livestock, and their homes, which are often swept away by strong currents or suffer damage from standing in water for long periods of time. Families affected by flooding frequently experience serious financial losses, which, when multiplied across a large area, can have serious consequences for a region’s economic development. In response to these conditions, inhabitants of flood-prone areas tend to prepare for the rainy season by reinforcing their residences and by stockpiling food and supplies in safe locations. Individuals have also adjusted the configuration of their homes; many of which are now constructed on higher foundations, or with a mezzanine or second level to provide a dry area out of harm’s

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6.5.3 Lower level living space. way. In addition, the number of houses constructed with permanent materials, such as brick and reinforced concrete, has increased, while the number of homes made from less permanent materials, such as bamboo and thatch, has decreased.11 An increase in permanent structures made from industrially produced materials may temporarily reduce loss of property and life, but the longterm environmental damage caused by these changes can also exacerbate the very conditions that gave rise to this type of construction in the first place. Fixed structures can withstand inundation, but they may also impede the flow of water within a floodplain, causing it to rise. On a broader scale, materials requiring large amounts of energy to produce, such as concrete and steel, contribute to carbon emissions through their production as well as their poor performance in tropical climates, necessitating the need for air conditioning. Doan Thanh Ha and Tran Ngoc Phuong of H&P Architects became interested in the problem of flooding and its impact on rural communities

6.5.4 Upper level living space.

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6.5.5 Assembly diagram.

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6.5.6 Exterior façade. while developing temporary homes for individuals displaced by natural disaster. This experience led the architects to consider more proactive solutions for sheltering individuals before, during, and after extreme weather events. Working with a team from their office, the architects designed a structural module that could be quickly and inexpensively fabricated from bamboo. The flexible floor plan of each module could be configured to house up to six individuals or to serve as public infrastructure, such as a clinic or library. The units were designed to be either freestanding or clustered to form small communities. To address flooding the team initially proposed a unit that would float during a high water event. This would be achieved by installing recycled oil drums underneath the shelter’s floor platform. A second proposal was designed to sit 1.45 meters off the ground on a series of robust bamboo trusses. The raised structure, shored by cables anchoring it to the ground, was configured to allow water to flow underneath. The architects selected bamboo for the project with economic as well as pragmatic

considerations in mind. The plant grows in almost every part of Vietnam, and the country is one of the largest exporters of the material. There is also a long tradition of specialized craft villages that are home to artisans skilled in working with bamboo and rattan.12 Bamboo’s abundance and wide availability have kept its price low relative to other materials, making it an attractive option for low-cost housing. The shelter was also designed to be prefabricated, potentially in craft villages, which would reduce cost and support the local economy; alternatively, the structures could be built on site by homeowners, for about $2,500 per unit and a time investment of about 25 days. The material’s high strength-to-weight ratio makes it ideal for light, wind- and water-resistant structures, and, like traditional bamboo houses found in many parts of Southeast Asia, the design exploits the potential for the material to be shaped into sturdy, yet permeable, screens that filter sunlight and air entering the interior. To test their design, the architects built a fullscale prototype on a lot in a suburb of Ha Noi.

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The 6.3- by 6.3-meter building relies on structural redundancy and bolted, bypass connections to withstand strong winds and water currents. The house’s loadbearing members are fabricated by assembling two or more poles 8 to 10 centimeters in diameter to create beams, columns, and roof joists. At the base of the structure, floor beams made from bolted pairs of poles are supported by the bamboo trusses. Flattened bamboo panels are nailed on top of the beams to create the floor deck. The division of interior space is defined by columns spaced on a 3-meter grid. Each column is fabricated using four poles, which allows for 6-meter-long beams to pass between them in both directions. The joists for the upper level are installed over the beams and finished in the same way as the floor deck. The roof framework forms a truncated pyramid that is bolted to the main structure at the columns. The perimeter of the roof framework is constructed with double member beams cross-braced with single poles on the diagonal. One bay on each side of the exterior is enclosed by sliding poles between the bamboo columns, stacking them from floor to ceiling; this method is also used for creating interior partitions. To enclose the roof, flattened bamboo panels are

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nailed to the framework and covered with a tightly woven mat. Steel cable cross-braces, providing additional lateral support, are installed in the roof and on the outside of the exterior facing panels. In normal conditions, the roof hatch and pivoting bamboo screen doors on each side of the house can be opened to promote natural ventilation and, during inclement weather, the entire building can be closed and secured against storms. According to the architects, the house was designed to adjust to the local climate and available resources; the bamboo frame can be enclosed with wattle and daub, fiberboard, or other common materials; polycarbonate panels or nylon sheeting can be installed on the exterior to further weatherize the structure. The architects have simplified typical bamboo connections so that anyone with minimal skills and access to ordinary hardware and tools can assemble the building. At the same time, the configuration of a typical bamboo structure has been adjusted and augmented so that it can withstand extreme weather conditions. Through these modifications, the architects hope to create a flexible system that gives individuals more control over their built environment and greater economic stability in the future.

6.6 Thread Artist Residency and Cultural Center Architect: Toshiko Mori Architect Location: Sinthian, Senegal Year: 2014

6.6.1 Thread from southeast.

Sinthian is a rural community of approximately 900 residents and is located in eastern Senegal, about a day’s drive from the coastal capital of Dakar. Throughout the last decade, the region of Tambacounda, where Sinthian is located, has been increasingly affected by erratic weather patterns characterized by drought and variations in the timing and duration of the rainy season. The unpredictable climate has caused economic hardship for the region’s population, which is almost entirely dependent on the production of peanuts, cotton, and subsistence crops. The decline in agriculture has led to both seasonal and permanent migration, with many seeking more reliable job opportunities in Dakar and beyond.13 The US-based aid organization Le Korsa was started after its founder, Nicholas Fox Weber,

traveled to Sinthian in 2004. Since its inception, the organization has funded numerous health, education, and cultural programs in the rural areas of Tambacounda, as well as in the region’s capital. In the village of Sinthian, Le Korsa works closely with Dr. Magueye Ba, head of a nearby medical center, and it was with Ba that Weber and his organization first decided to create a venue in Sinthian that would host artists and performers from the area and around the world. The initial intent of the project was to provide income-generating opportunities for the community, while supporting the arts in the Tambacounda region. Thread, as it would later be called, was conceived as a place of cultural exchange between locals and visitors alike. In 2010, the project and the village became the focus of study for Harvard Graduate School

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6.6.2 Thatched roof. of Design (GSD) students participating in a studio led by the New York-based architect Toshiko Mori. Mori learned of the project through Weber, who had previously commissioned her, on behalf of the Josef and Anni Albers Foundation, to design an exhibit featuring the artists’ work. The foundation would eventually fund the construction of the 1150-square-meter building—an adaptation of a design developed during the GSD studio—by Mori’s associate and former student Jordan Mactavish. The design of Thread was developed in response to the studio’s site visit to Sinthian, where models were used to present options to the local residents in order to gage their response to program and form. What emerged from this dialog was an adaptable program that could be adjusted based on the community’s needs. The openness and flexibility of the floor plan allows the building to function as one entity or as 15 separate spaces housed under one roof. Artists’ residences constitute the only ‘fixed’ spaces, defined by masonry walls. The remainder of

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the program is loosely organized around two oval-shaped courtyards. In addition to hosting Senegalese and foreign artists, Thread currently serves as a community gathering space and, thanks to solar-powered lighting, as a study hall where Sinthian’s youth do their homework in the evenings. Most importantly, by providing training, land, and a meeting place for the local and regional community, the building has become an agricultural hub for Sinthian and the surrounding villages. The shape of the building’s roof supports Sinthian’s agricultural activities by collecting rainwater. Two cisterns, located on the north and south sides of the building, are able to collect enough water from the roof annually to fulfill 40 percent of the village’s needs. This method of water collection is similar to traditional catchment systems found in the Casamance region of southern Senegal. There, domestic spaces are organized around circular courtyards that collect water from steeply pitched, inwardsloping roofs. The lightweight roof structure is

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6.6.3 Floor plan. typically constructed from lashed bamboo poles covered with a layer of grass thatch, a technique that offers an adequate span for accommodating living spaces and also allows enough flexibility during construction to follow the tight curvature of the courtyard. Thatch is oriented to direct the flow of water, and its capacity to absorb and release small amounts of moisture can also help to keep spaces comfortable through evaporative cooling. The roof of Thread was also constructed from bamboo and thatch, with the addition

of steel beams to increase the span of the structure. Bamboo is an important resource for construction in southern Senegal, and the diameter of available culms is roughly 5 centimeters on average. Typically, roofs are conical, a shape that is achieved by lashing bamboo poles at one end to form an apex. The spanning members are reinforced by joining them with split bamboo poles that have been bent and lashed at interstitial points along the circumference of the structure. A similar technique was used for the roof of Thread. Steel beams were installed to support the longest

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6.6.4 Gathering space. spans: between the structural supports along the perimeter of interior and exterior spaces. Bamboo poles, spaced roughly 15 centimeters apart, were then laid as infill between the steel members, running between the exterior and the interior courtyards. To support the infill in the opposite direction, poles were installed over and under the initial layer, at a distance of about 90 centimeters apart. Instead of lashing the structure together with natural fibers, the layers of bamboo were tied with steel wire. The roof thatching was prepared beforehand by tying stalks of dried grass together at one end with wire, so as to form a continuous layer of roofing. After the desired length was reached, the layer was rolled together to form a compact bundle and delivered to the construction site. Starting with the lower edge of the roof, workers unrolled the thatch over the bamboo framework, taking care to overlap each layer as they moved up the slope. Mud brick is another building material common to the region, where it is often used for the exterior

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enclosure of homes. The exterior walls of Thread were constructed with concrete block, with the exception of the ventilation screens. Locally fabricated earth brick was the ideal proportion (10 by 10 by 40 centimeters) for creating the screen patterns. The base for the screen walls was constructed with concrete blocks, and the earth masonry was then positioned on top at an angle to the base, with adequate spacing between the bricks to allow for light and air to enter the interior spaces. The primary structure of Thread—the foundation, columns, and some beams—were constructed from reinforced concrete. These elements, along with the steel beams, form a contemporary framework that has been filled with traditional materials. This strategy relies on the durability of steel and concrete but is not entirely dependent on imported components. The decision to use familiar, locally available materials such as bamboo and grass allows for inexpensive and uncomplicated repairs to be made in the future. Since the project’s completion,

THATCH ROOF

Locally grown and harvested thatch is layered on top of the bamboo substructure, providing a low-cost and sustainable building solution representative of traditional construction techniques.

BAMBOO ROOF

The roof substructure is composed of three layers of bamboo sourced locally.

CLAY BRICK

Clay bricks will be formed on site by local villagers, enhancing the participation of the local community in the construction of the cultural center.

sloped

sloped

roof sheds water to canal

sloped surface

water canal collects rain from roof

covered water reservoir

courtyard drain to canal

Max Water Collected: 559,120 liters

sloped water canal sloped water canal

Min Water Collected: 159,745 liters covered water reservoir

Total Roof Catchment Area: 1050 m2

6.6.5 Materials and water diagrams.

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6.6.7 Binding grass.

6.6.6 Bamboo roof structure. its roof and reservoirs have proven successful enough to support an association of women farmers who raise crops on the site during the dry season. The money they raise from these efforts supports their families and pays the school fees for their children.

Notes 1 Michael U. Hensel, “Performance-oriented Architecture and the Spatial and Material Organisation Complex,” FORMakademisk 4, no. 1 (July 2011): 7. 2 Roger Boltshauser and Martin Rauch, Haus Rauch: Ein Modell Moderner Lehmarchitektur = The Rauch House: A Model of Advanced Clay Architecture (Basel: Birkhäuser, 2011), 171.

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6.6.8 Roof thatching. 3 Khalid El Harrouni, Hassan Kharmich, and Assia Lamzah, “Seismic Performance of Traditional Architecture in Morocco,” International Journal of Heritage Architecture 1, no. 1 (2017): 52. 4 A hypocaust, or hollow, under-floor heating system was used by the ancient Romans. Similar heating systems have also been employed in Korea (ondol) and Afghanistan (tawa-khana). 5 Kushal Lachhwani, “What to Build is a Bigger Question than How to Build,” Indian Architect & Builder Magazine (June 2012): 82. 6 With the rise of urbanization in Bangladesh, the demand for inexpensive building materials has accelerated brick manufacturing on a massive scale. Despite the increase in production, however, the methods for making the bricks have remained relatively unchanged from centuries-old practices. The entire process is

completed by hand: soil is mixed with water and placed in forms, the forms are removed and the bricks are left to dry before they are fired in an underground kiln. Conditions at the brickyards are harsh; the work is backbreaking and child labor is a common practice. In addition, coal-fired kilns are dramatically reducing the country’s air quality. However, there have been some efforts to reduced carbon emissions in recent years, and agencies such as the United Nations and World Bank have funded initiatives to introduce smokeless brickmaking technology to the country. 7 Boltshauser and Rauch, Haus Rauch: Ein Modell Moderner Lehmarchitektur = The Rauch House: A Model of Advanced Clay Architecture, 113. 8 BC Architects and MAMOTH, “Preschool of Aknaibich: Bio-Climatic Construction,” material provided by the office of BC Architects, Brussels. 9 Nguyen Huu Ninh, Vu Kien Trung, and Nguyen Xuan Niem, “Flooding in Mekong River Delta,” United Nations Development Programme, Human Development Report, 2007, 5. 10 Ibid., 2. 11 Tran Thanh Duc, Ueru Tanaka, and Hirohide Kobayashi, “Living with Typhoon and Flood Disasters: A Case Study in Huong Phong Commune, Tam Giang Lagoon Area, Central Vietnam,” SANSAI: An Environmental Journal for the Global Community 6 (2012): 93. 12 Tuong Trang Hieu and Alfons Eiligmann, “Value Chain Study for Bamboo/Rattan in Phu Tho, Hoa Binh, Thanh Hoa and Nghe An, Viet Nam,” International Trade Centre, November 2010, 11. 13 Michelle Leighton, “Desertification and Migration,” in Governing Global Desertification: Linking Environmental Degradation, Poverty and Participation, ed. Pierre-Marc Johnson, Karel Mayrand, and Marc Paquin (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006), 46–47.

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7 Reflections and Looking Ahead

7.1 Agriculture Pavilion and Crafts Workshop in Pingtian, China.

As the case studies in this book have made clear, a broad range of strategies for utilizing traditional materials and methods in contemporary construction persists. Even if their use has waned generally, architects, engineers, and builders throughout the world maintain the relevancy of these materials and methods by adapting them to current economic, social, environmental, and cultural conditions. Sustaining traditional resources and their associated processes is important for a variety of reasons, made plain in the project analysis of the case studies in this book. Nevertheless, in the wake of mass urbanization and rapid development, many individuals have no other alternative but to turn away from the labor-intensive, local or regional building methods refined by previous generations. These practices will eventually come to an end if the perpetual process to improve and fine-tune them is not sustained. Throughout this book we have seen that complex circumstances, ranging from a lack of building regulations and skilled labor to changing climate conditions, can restrict the advancement of certain practices. Removing these limitations depends equally on small-scale interventions and large initiatives supported either directly or indirectly by government entities. The examples discussed in the following sections outline measures providing the greatest potential for advancing traditional materials and methods and highlight future trajectories.

Advocacy Of the materials covered in this book, bamboo is the only resource to have an international organization that promotes its use. The International Network for Bamboo and Rattan (INBAR) is an intergovernmental organization initially established in 1997 by the governments of Bangladesh, Canada, China, Indonesia, Myanmar, Nepal, Peru, the Philippines, and the United Republic of Tanzania. The organization has grown since that time to include 41 countries around the globe. INBAR works in partnership with governmental and development agencies to promote the inclusion of bamboo and rattan in socio-economic and environmental development policies at national, regional, and international levels. INBAR also supports pilot projects, such as those focused on housing that raise understanding of and appreciation for the material through

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education and hands-on training programs. By contrast, only a handful of organizations advocate for earth construction, and their outreach is often limited to individual countries. The internationally recognized German representative for earth construction, Dachverband Lehm (German Association for Building with Earth), has worked to establish national regulations for building with earth and in addition supports vocational training programs. Advocacy is imperative for maintaining and advancing the application of traditional building practices. Without the support of building professionals (architects, engineers, contractors, and tradespeople) and financial assistance from manufacturers or governments, however, there is little incentive to form these organizations.

Education Education and certification programs for building professionals and students of architecture and engineering can strengthen the development and acceptance of traditional materials and methods. The case of contemporary earth construction in Germany provides a useful model in this regard; this framework could be adapted to suit vocational and higher education programs in other countries. Apprentices in the construction trades can receive additional training to specialize in earth construction, even though it is not officially recognized as an independent trade in Germany. Companies hiring such individuals are entitled to carry the “specialized in earth construction” seal, which is registered with the Dachverband Lehm and allows prospective clients, architects, and planners to identify qualified specialists. Students of architecture and civil engineering can also take courses focused on earth construction at certain universities, such as the University of Kassel and the Bauhaus University Weimar.1 Vocational and higher education programs increase the quality of construction and lend creditability to a material with which the general public might not be familiar.

Standardization Establishing internationally recognized performance standards and construction

guidelines is a significant step toward increasing the awareness and acceptance of materials, particularly those considered to be ‘nonconventional’ or traditional. The development of standards for bamboo materials and construction provides an excellent contemporary example of this process. Bamboo grows in a number of regions experiencing high levels of urban expansion, but the lack of comprehensive standards and building codes continues to constrain the plant’s use by the mainstream construction industry. Standardization is considered key to assuring bamboo’s acceptance as a viable construction material, particularly in urban areas. Reliable standards provide governments, building officials, engineers, architects, and owners, the tools necessary for assessing the safety of bamboo construction. They additionally equip architects and engineers with clear guidelines for testing and designing with the material. In one sense, standardization can be viewed as a replacement for the traditional expertise lost to globalizing influences: empirical knowledge, once gained over many centuries by trial and error, is now achieved much more rapidly through scientific testing. The International Standards Institute (ISO) issued the first formal bamboo materials and construction standards in 2004.2 These early standards provided an important foundation for bamboo research and code development in a number of countries, including Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Jamaica, Ethiopia, and India. Nonetheless, the initial ISO Standards were inadequate or incomplete in a number of senses. Recent developments in research and testing have been aimed at improving, updating, and expanding the scopes of the 2004 ISO Standards. These efforts include more accurate testing methods and data on material performance. A bamboo culm, when stressed as a structural component, behaves in a way that is most analogous to timber. Drawing comparisons between these materials has proven valuable for advancing bamboo’s acceptance and use, as many engineers and architects are already familiar with the characteristics and behaviors of timber. The revised ISO design standard (ISO 22156) for bamboo construction will therefore follow a format that is similar to existing timber standards, and will borrow from these where appropriate, making the bamboo standard more broadly accessible to the construction and design communities.

Similarly, a new bamboo materials testing standard (ISO 22157) is anticipated in 2017 and will replace the 2004 version. Testing methods included in this new standard have also been clarified and streamlined to increase accuracy and replicability, and to simplify procedures so that less specialized equipment is needed. Work is also being done to reduce the number of tests required to characterize bamboo for use. This objective is being met with a two-pronged approach that includes a new bamboo grading standard (ISO CD 19624) and scientific efforts to develop two tests for establishing characteristic material properties, which can then be used to represent multiple other properties needed in bamboo structural design. Simplifying testing methods ensures that individuals with limited resources continue to have access to the standardization process.3 As testing and standards continue to be streamlined and knowledge about bamboo material and structural behaviors grows, whole culm bamboo construction seems poised to reach a greater level of acceptance by the construction industry. The process of developing guidelines for bamboo as a building material demonstrates a feasible framework that could be applied to other materials that, despite their inclusion in local and national building codes in some countries, are currently not addressed by internationally recognized codes and standards.

Rehabilitation and Revitalization Programs that support the rehabilitation of existing buildings constructed from traditional materials can also become important mechanisms for maintaining, as well as advancing, culturally significant building practices. Restored buildings can provide needed public amenities and help to economically revitalize the communities in which they are located. Two examples that follow—one in China and the other in Niger—demonstrate the potential impact of programs focused on rehabilitating traditional building stock. Such initiatives are especially crucial in areas that have been affected by urban migration, which has had a profound influence on the built environment of the countryside. Homes and community buildings have either been abandoned or replaced with structures

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made from imported materials, a change that has drastically altered the character of many rural municipalities. Even more serious than the loss of cultural heritage, however, is the lack of economic opportunity. Communities that have been selfsufficient for many previous generations are now on the decline.4 Migration and the resultant degradation of villages and towns is perhaps nowhere more evident than in China, where rates of urbanization

have almost doubled during the last 25 years.5 Despite the Chinese government’s primary focus on city development, there have been some limited, state-supported endeavors to revitalize rural areas. One of the most significant steps taken by the government was their assessment and designation of more than 2,500 “traditional villages” in 2012. Villages receiving this designation are protected from demolition and are entitled to financial support for building maintenance

7.2 Abandoned village of Dushang, Guangdong Province, China.

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Material Strategies

and conservation measures. As a result, Chinese architects and professionals in related fields are working more frequently today in rural communities than they had in previous decades, and academic interest in village conservation is growing.6 Oftentimes materials and construction techniques in rural villages have remained unchanged for many centuries, creating conditions requiring specialized knowledge and careful planning in order to bring structures up to current living standards without damaging their historical integrity. Some initiatives focus solely on preservation, whereas others involve small-scale interventions to provide tourism infrastructure. Revitalization projects potentially offer a way to maintain village

culture in the face of urbanization, but treating rural heritage as an economic asset can become problematic when over-commercialization and gentrification threaten the needs of local residents. The government of Songyang County, for instance, has invested in building refurbishment and new tourist infrastructure in a number of villages with the intent of boosting the region’s economy. The community of Pingtian has been the site of several such revitalization projects planned for the area. The Pingtian Agriculture Museum and Crafts Workshop is a noteworthy example that integrates contemporary amenities within existing structures. The institution highlights cultural exchange and education of residents and tourists alike.

7.3 Pingtian Agriculture Pavilion and Crafts Workshop exterior.

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The firm DnA Design and Architecture first suggested the inclusion of a cultural institution for Pingtian during the assessment and documentation phase of the revitalization plan, which was conducted by the Institute of Planning at Tsinghua University in 2014. The architects also proposed rehabilitating ordinary village structures of seemingly little value. In doing so, they hoped to demonstrate that every building in the village was worth saving, not only those deemed

7.4 Exhibit space.

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historically significant. DnA subsequently identified a pair of humble farmhouses and livestock outbuildings to house the future museum and workshop. Since its completion, the institution has become a gathering place for village residents. In addition, the experience gained during reconstruction has been applied to other villages in the area. DnA cites changing local attitudes toward traditional buildings as vital to insuring the success of rehabilitation

7.5 Dandaji Mosque.

7.6 Axon of Dandaji Library.

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7.7 Interior of library. projects; the agricultural museum and handcrafts workshop were the first step toward this goal, at least in Songyang County.7 The loss of rural architectural heritage to contemporary development is also a reoccurring theme in the Sahel region of western and north-central Africa. There, earth has long been essential to several parallel and overlapping building traditions, but changing lifestyles and a growing preference for concrete construction have contributed to the neglect and decline of earthen structures. Due to their prominence, the deterioration of local building traditions is most evident in communal amenities, such as village mosques, typically constructed from banco, an unfired earth masonry rendered with plaster. This protective layer is applied less frequently than in the past (or not at all) due to the lack of masons. A notable example of this type of construction can be found in northwest Niger, in the village

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of Dandaji. Initially constructed by master mason and Aga Khan award recipient El Hadji Falké Barmou, the mosque had subsequently fallen into disrepair over the years, resulting in imminent plans for its demolition and replacement. Recognizing the significance of the building, community leaders proposed converting the earthen structure into a library and literary center. In 2016, architects Mariam Kamara and Yasaman Esmaili were tasked with redesigning the mosque for its new use. The team recommended minimally restoring the building; however, given that few skilled masons were on hand to carry out annual plastering and maintenance, they suggested an alternative exterior treatment to protect against water erosion, thus preserving the building for the long term. On the interior, the architects used a light touch in adapting the building to its new functions, only modifying the existing masonry structure where necessary. The mosque’s eventual transformation into a regional hub for education and literacy not only gives an architecturally significant building a new purpose but also revives community members’ sense of ownership and pride in their shared architectural heritage. The building sets a valuable precedent for restoring and adapting similar earthen structures in the region.

Local Resources and Production Systems Unlike conventional systems dependent on global logistics and economies, industries utilizing indigenous resources and local craft knowledge have the potential to support sustainable economic development while also maintaining important cultural practices related to agriculture and forestry, manufacturing, and construction. Haus am Moor [5.6] in Vorarlberg, Austria, illustrates the strong relationships that exist between local forestry and timber trades; highly integrated resource and production systems play an important part in that region’s continuing economic success. A similar approach was adopted by the Base foundation (albeit on a much smaller scale) to construct affordable housing for rapidly growing areas of the Philippines [3.4].

The organization has successfully exploited one of the country’s most plentiful natural resources, bamboo, to produce several hundred units of urban housing, while continuing to involve rural farmers and craftspeople in the process. Both examples present viable models for other regions still endowed with sufficient natural resources and local populations possessing the knowledge necessary to harvest and work these materials. It is not too late to establish manufacturing models that continue to include agricultural communities, builders, and craftspeople in the process of production and construction, and, as we have seen in previous chapters, this type of localized integration can be even achieved in highly industrialized contexts.

Looking Ahead The cultural dimensions of traditional materials remain tangible in many places; however, development and growth are a reality. It is no longer feasible to expect that building traditions will be unconditionally revived or perfectly preserved. Solutions that move between traditional and contemporary materials and technologies seem to offer the most promise in terms of long-term viability. Combining old and new practices can also give rise to flexible, multi-scalar approaches that are truly responsive to their immediate temporal and environmental circumstances. After a long period of neglect, we are just beginning to rediscover the potential of traditional materials and methods and to appreciate the many ways they can work in tandem with modern technology to shape contemporary buildings. It is still possible for building practices to evolve from social and cultural needs, while continuing to lay the groundwork for what lies ahead.

2

David Trujillo and Louis Felipe Lopez, “Bamboo Material Characterisation,” in Nonconventional and Vernacular Construction Materials, ed. Kent Harries and Bhavna Sharma (Cambridge, MA: Woodhead Publishing, 2016), 380.

3

Information on the development of revised ISO design standard (ISO 22156) is from discussion with Kent Harries, Associate Professor of civil and environmental engineering at the University of Pittsburgh, via Skype, December 20, 2016.

4

Yuheng Li, Hans Westlund, Xiaoyu Zheng, and Yansui Liu, “Bottom-up Initiatives and Revival in the Face of Rural Decline: Case Studies from China and Sweden,” Journal of Rural Studies, July 2016, 1.

5

World Bank, Urban Population Databank, http:// data.worldbank.org/indicator/SP.URB.TOTL. IN.ZS?locations=CN

6

Ministry of Housing and Urban Rural Development, Tsinghua Tongheng Urban Planning and Design Institute, and Tsinghua Heritage Conservation Institute, Traditional Chinese Villages Bulletin, January 2015, 12.

7

Information provided by the office of DnA Design and Architecture, Beijing, China.

Notes 1

Information on the inclusion of earth construction in German vocational and higher education programs is from Horst Schroeder, Sustainable Building with Earth (New York: Springer International), 532–534.

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Index aborigines 17 Abu Dhabi 142–3 Abu Dhabi Authority for Culture and Heritage (ADACH) 143 acoustics 60, 87, 189, 194 adaptive construction logic 99, 122 adobe 9, 15 Adventist Development and Relief Agency 35 advocacy 212 aerodynamics 178 aesthetics 24, 35, 43, 46, 79, 191 affordable housing 35, 53, 61, 80–3, 98, 112–13, 153–8, 218 Afghanistan 22, 174, 177 Africa 42, 53, 61, 75, 98, 100, 103, 186, 218 Agadez, Niger 9, 76 aggregates 10–11, 187 Agricultural School Mezzana 93 aid organizations 35, 53, 61, 85, 179, 192, 203 Al Ain Oasis 142 air conditioning 199 air quality 13, 209 airflow 67, 101, 107, 161, 172, 181 Aknaibich Preschool 171, 173, 191–6 Al Borde 99, 122, 124–5 Albers Foundation 204 Alveo Pierre 24 Amazon rainforest 42 animals 11, 29, 40, 48, 103, 174, 178, 198 anisotropic materials 38, 47 Antarctica 51 anthropologists 47 aqueducts 18, 44 Arabian Desert 143 Arabian Peninsula 13 arch i platform 174 archeologists/archeology 8, 17, 28, 30, 36, 44, 47 architects 1–3, 57, 60–1, 99, 134–5, 173; in Austria 164,

166, 169, 186; and bamboo 46, 52–3; in Bangladesh 179, 181; in Burkina Faso 100; in Chile 69–70, 73; in China 127, 132, 147–8, 150; in Ecuador 122, 124–6; in France 153–4, 156, 158; and future architecture 212–13, 215–16, 218; in India 174–5, 178; in Japan 63, 66; in Morocco 191–2, 194, 196; in Niger 75–7, 79; in Philippines 83, 106–7, 111; in Rwanda 117; in Senegal 203; and stone 22–3; in Sweden 136, 139–40; in Switzerland 91; in UK 86–7; in United Arab Emirates 142–5; in USA 112–14; in Vietnam 159, 197, 201–2; and wood 35, 43 architectural historians 1, 3, 134, 148 Armogenia, R. 107 artisans 42, 107, 135, 145, 164, 201 Arup 22 ashlar masonry 17–18, 20, 24 Asia 21, 42, 44, 47, 52–3, 81–2, 173, 201 asphalt 13 Assyrians 29 Atelier TeamMinus 147–8 Australia 64, 68 Austria 13, 42–3, 93, 133, 135, 164, 172, 186, 189, 218 authenticity 4, 52–3, 134, 142 Avalokites´vara 148 Ba, M. 203 Babylonians 29 Bader, B. 43, 135, 164, 166, 169 bahareque 48, 51, 82–3 bahay kubo 48, 50 BAKOKO 43, 63–4 BaleHaus 87 bamboo 2–3, 30, 44–53, 61, 99, 135, 172–3; in Bangladesh 179–83, 185; in China 129;

and earth 11; and future architecture 212–13, 219; in Philippines 82–5, 106–7, 110; in Senegal 205, 208; in Vietnam 159, 161–3, 199, 201–2 Bambus Collabo 53, 107 Bambusa vulgaris 47 banco 9, 76, 218 Bangladesh 172, 179–81, 185, 212 bark 30, 38–9 Barmou, F. 218 Barragán, D. 122 bartering 122 basalt 18 Base 53, 61, 81–5, 218 Base Affordable Housing 81–5, 218 Bath University 86–7 Bauhaus University Weimar 212 Baukultur 169 BC architects 191–2 Bedouin community 143 Benavides, E. 122 Berber community 194 Bernardo Bader Architekten 164 bespoke construction 59–95 best practice 2, 99, 127–8 binding 28 Bioclimatic Schools 192 biocompatible materials 2 biodiversity 42 biomass 47 Bishop, S. 112 bitumen 189 Blooming Bamboo House 173, 197–202 Blueland 174, 178 BM TRADA 60, 87 Boivin, N. 8 Boltshauser Architekten 186 Boltshauser, R. 186 Borja, M. 122 BRE Centre for Innovative Construction Materials 60, 86

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brick 8–11, 15, 60, 98, 172–3; in Austria 166; in Bangladesh 180–2, 184–5; in Burkina Faso 103–5; in China 127–8, 130; in India 174–5, 177; in Morocco 191, 194; in Niger 75–7; and plant materials 30; in Rwanda 117–21; in Senegal 206; and stone 17, 22; in Switzerland 91; in UK 89; in United Arab Emirates 142–5; in Vietnam 199 Britain/British 17, 30, 42, 142, 180 Bronze Age 18 Bry-sur-Marne social housing 153–8 Buddhists 148, 174 builders 1, 12, 15, 30, 98, 134–5, 172; in Austria 186; and bamboo 48, 57; in France 154; and future architecture 212; master builders 98, 154; in Philippines 82; and stone 18–19; in UK 88; and wood 35–6, 38–40 building codes/regulations 2, 33–4, 42, 60, 172; and bamboo 51; and earth 12–13; in France 158; and future architecture 212–13; in Morocco 194; in Philippines 82, 84; in Rwanda 119; in Switzerland 94; in UK 86, 90 building information modeling (BIM) 66 Burkina Faso 99–100, 104 butt joints 40 Cabuyal community 99, 124–6 Caminada, G. 43 Canada 212 carbon neutrality/sequestration 39, 42, 47, 60 carbon/nitrogen emissions 33, 86, 88, 199, 209 carpenters 35, 41–2, 68, 74, 99, 104, 119, 164, 178 case studies 57, 61, 99, 135, 172, 212; Aknaibich Preschool 171, 173, 191–6; Base Affordable Housing 81–5, 218; Blooming Bamboo House 173,

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197–202; Bry-sur-Marne social housing 153–8; Common Ground Neighborhood 34–5, 98, 112–16; Dungga Daycare 106–11; Esperanza Series 122–6; Haus am Moor 133, 135, 164–9, 218; Haus Rauch 13, 172, 186–90; Hostal Ritoque 43, 69–74; Al Jahili Fort, Al Ain 13, 134, 142–6; Jianamani Visitor Center 134–5, 147–52; Kargyak Learning Center 172, 174–8; Ma’anqiao Village Reconstruction 99, 127–32; ModCell Straw Technology 86–90; Niamey 2000 61, 75–80; Onjuku Beach House 43, 59–63; Opera Village and Center for Health Care and Social Promotion 100–6, 117; Pani Community Center 172, 179–85; Ricola Kräuterzentrum 59, 61, 91–4; Tåkern Visitor Center 34, 134, 136–41; Thread Artist Residency and Cultural Center 172, 203–9; Wind and Water Bar 135, 159–63; Women’s Opportunity Center (WOC) 97–8, 117–21 cellulose 29, 36, 46, 86, 114, 166 cement 3, 9, 12–13, 15, 18, 20, 22, 52, 61, 75–7, 82–3, 103, 172–3, 187 cement bamboo frame (CBF) 83–4 certification 60, 79, 87–8, 104–5, 212 Chan Chan, Peru 9, 46 Chile 43, 69–70 Chiltern International 87 China 2, 99, 130, 132, 134; and future architecture 211–15; and Jianamani Visitor Center 147–8; and Ma’anqiao Village Reconstruction 127; and plant materials 33, 35, 39, 42, 44, 46; and stone 17, 21 Chinese University of Hong Kong 127 circumnambulation 148

classification of stone 18 clay 9–13, 15–16, 19, 30; in Austria 166, 186, 190; in India 174–5; in Morocco 194; in Rwanda 119; in Sweden 138; in Switzerland 91, 93; in United Arab Emirates 145 climate 1, 30, 33, 172, 178, 199; in Austria 190; and bamboo 47; in Bangladesh 180; in China 127, 147; climate change 2, 81, 173, 197, 212; and earth 10, 13; in India 174; in Morocco 194; in Philippines 107; in Senegal 203; and stone 16, 22; in USA 114; in Vietnam 199, 202; and wood 39 cob 14–15 Coeckelberghs, N. 192, 196 Cold War 1 Colombia 46, 48, 82, 84, 213 colonialism 46, 76, 107 Common Ground Neighborhood 34–5, 98, 112–16 communication 98–100, 128, 181 community participation 2, 34, 97–128, 135, 178; and bamboo 53; in Bangladesh 180; in China 132, 148; and future architecture 218–19; in India 178; in Morocco 192, 196; in Senegal 203–4; in Vietnam 201; and wood 42 compaction 10, 13 composition 2–3; of bamboo 46–7; of earth 9–10; of wood 36–9 compounds 76 comprehension 1 compressed earth blocks (CEB) 15, 61, 76–9, 103–4 compressive forces 10, 18, 32, 36, 40, 46–7, 92, 121, 194 computer aided design (CAD) 66 computer numerical control (CNC) 42, 64 concrete 2–3, 22, 61, 98, 135, 173; in Austria 166, 187; and bamboo 44, 47, 51–2; in Bangladesh 185; in Burkina

Faso 104; in Chile 70, 73; in China 127–8, 130, 150; in France 156, 158; and future architecture 218; in India 174; in Morocco 191, 194, 196; in Niger 76–7, 79; in Philippines 82–3, 85, 107, 110; in Rwanda 118, 121; in Senegal 206; and stone 17, 22; in Switzerland 92–3; in UK 89; in United Arab Emirates 145; in Vietnam 161, 199; and wood 36, 42 Connolly and Callaghan 89 conservation 42, 215 construction costs 2, 73–5, 98, 119, 135; in China 127–8, 130, 147; in France 154, 156; in Morocco 191; in Senegal 207; in Vietnam 159, 161–3, 201 construction industry 2, 53, 60–1, 82, 87–8, 98, 119, 212–13 construction methods 1, 3, 61, 99, 135, 173–5; in Austria 187; and bamboo 44, 46, 48, 52, 57; in Burkina Faso 104; in Chile 70, 74; in China 127, 130, 148, 150, 152; and earth 10–11, 13–15; in Ecuador 122, 125–6; in France 154, 158; and future architecture 212–13, 218–19; in India 178; in Japan 63–4, 67; in Morocco 192, 194; in Niger 76, 79–80; in Philippines 82–5, 106–7, 111; and reeds/grasses 28–30, 33–4; in Rwanda 118; in Senegal 205; and stone 16–20, 22–4; in Sweden 139–40; in Switzerland 93–4; in UK 88; in USA 114–15; in Vietnam 162–3, 197; and wood 35–6, 38–40, 42–3 contemporary vernacular architecture 196 contractors 60–1, 79, 119, 181, 212 cooperatives 53, 98, 112–13, 115, 121 corbeling 20–1 Le Corbusier 3 Core Passiv system 87 cork 24, 187, 194, 196

corrugated galvanized iron (CGI) 32–3, 98 courtyards 76, 99, 101–4, 142–3, 145; in Bangladesh 181–2, 185; in China 127, 129, 148, 150; in France 153–4; in Morocco 192, 194; in Senegal 204–7 craft skills 3, 42, 60, 98–9, 134, 173; in Austria 164, 169, 186; and bamboo 46, 52–3; in Burkina Faso 104; in Chile 74; in China 128; in France 154, 156; and future architecture 218–19; in Philippines 82, 85, 107; in Rwanda 117–18; and stone 16, 24; in Vietnam 201; and wood 36, 40 cross-bracing 74, 87, 202 cross-laminated timber (CLT) 35, 43 crowdsourcing 111 culms 46–9, 51–3, 83–4, 161–2, 181, 205, 213 cultural contexts 1–3, 8, 60–1, 100, 134–5; in Austria 169; and bamboo 44, 46, 52–3, 57; in Burkina Faso 100, 105; in China 148; and future architecture 212–16, 218–19; in Japan 63, 66; in Niger 76; in Philippines 107; and reeds/ grasses 28, 33; in Senegal 203; and stone 17; in United Arab Emirates 143; and wood 36, 43 Cultural Revolution 148 customization 52, 64, 67, 87 cyclopean walls 20, 22 Cyperaceae family 29 Czech Republic 174 Dachverband Lehm 212 Dai community 127 daiku 61, 64, 67 Dandaji Library 217–18 Dandaji Mosque 217–18 Daxi community 46 decomposition 9, 28–9, 36, 39, 46 deforestation 42 Denmark 34, 139 designers 3

developers 88–9 developing nations 2, 52 diamond drills 19, 21 diorite 18 Dippelbaumdecke 187 disasters 33, 53, 63, 81–2, 85, 100, 127, 132, 147–8, 179, 197, 201 Djoser’s Pyramid 17 DnA Design and Architecture 216 do-it-yourself builders 15, 35, 115 Doan Thanh Ha 199 drainage 30, 175 drought 29, 76, 172–3, 203 Druk White Lotus school 22 dry stone masonry 19–20 drywall 66–7 Dubai 111, 142 Dungga Daycare 106–11 Durrington Walls 36 earth 42, 60–1, 99, 134, 172–3; in Austria 186–7, 189; and bamboo 44, 46, 48; in Burkina Faso 103; in China 127, 129, 132; earth-based construction 1–3, 8–15; and future architecture 212, 218; in India 174, 177; in Morocco 191, 194, 196; in Niger 75–6, 79–80; in Philippines 110; in Senegal 206; in Switzerland 91–4; in UK 87; in United Arab Emirates 142–6; in USA 114 earthquakes 36, 47, 69, 81–2, 99, 127, 129–30, 132, 147–8, 171–3, 175 East Asia 81 Eastern Europe 139 ecology 173 economic development/ constraints 1, 3, 24, 60, 98, 134–5; in Austria 164; and bamboo 52–3; in Chile 70; in France 150, 154; and future architecture 212–15, 218; in Japan 63–4; in Philippines 82; in Rwanda 117; in Senegal 203, 208; in Vietnam 197, 201–2 ecosystems 42, 136, 141

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Ecuador 46, 48, 82, 99, 122, 213 education 106, 117, 122, 132, 174, 179, 192, 203, 212, 215, 218 Egypt 17–18, 22, 28 Eliet & Lehmann Architectes 153–4 Eliet, D. 23, 154 embedded practices 135 emplecton walls 20–1 energy codes/standards 13, 33, 35, 43, 86–7, 158 energy systems 114, 145, 159 Engel, B. 119, 121 engineers 1, 3, 13–14, 32, 46, 57, 73, 77, 83, 87, 107, 127, 212–13 England 30, 36, 115 Enterprise Centre, UEA 33 environment 1–3, 13, 60, 134, 172; in Austria 169, 190; and future architecture 212, 219; in Morocco 196; in Niger 77; in Philippines 82, 107; and plant materials 33, 57; in Sweden 136; in UK 86; in USA 113, 115; in Vietnam 159, 199 equity caps 112 erosion 9, 42, 47, 93, 172, 190, 218 Esmaili, Y. 75, 218 Esperanza Dos 99, 122, 124–5 Esperanza Series 122–6 esterilla 48 Estudio Damgo 53, 99, 106–7, 110–11 Ethiopia 213 ethnographic studies 47 eucalyptus 103, 191 Europe/Europeans 2, 21, 32–5, 39, 41–2, 46, 51, 60, 82, 92, 94, 98, 139, 164 evolution 17 experts/expertise 2, 12–13, 18, 98–9, 134–5, 173; in Bangladesh 181; in Chile 69; in China 127, 148; in Ecuador 124; and future architecture 213; in Morocco 196; in Niger 76, 80; in Philippines 107; in United Arab Emirates 143; in USA 113–15 extrusive igneous rock 18

224

Index

Fachwerkhaüser 39, 41 farmers 32, 82–4, 107, 117, 162, 208, 219 Feenstra, A. 174, 177 field tests 12 filled walls 20 Finland 68 fir 166 fire resistance 32, 36, 47, 60, 83–4, 86–7, 107, 138–40 fish-mouth joints 48, 50 flax 14 flies 185 flooding 100, 106, 110, 173, 179, 197, 199 floor plans 66, 88, 92, 102, 109, 138, 150, 155, 178, 182, 198, 201, 204–5 Flying Factory 88 foresters 166 formwork 11, 13–14, 93, 129, 185, 187 Foundation University 106 framework 182 Frampton, K. 28 France 23, 34, 76, 153–4, 158, 192, 194 fungi 36, 48, 52 future architecture 62, 76–7, 79–80, 211–12, 219; in Burkina Faso 104–5; and geological materials 16, 24; in Morocco 196; and plant materials 29, 35, 53; in Senegal 206; in Vietnam 202 Future Cities Laboratory 51 gabbro 18 Gangotena, F. 122 Gangotena, P. 122 Gateway Building, Nottingham University 35 geologic materials 7–24 geotextiles 14 Germany 2, 12–13, 15–18, 33–4, 60; and Austria 164, 189; and Burkina Faso 104; and future architecture 212; and German Democratic Republic 1; and Niger 76; and plant materials 39, 41–3, 46; and Rwanda 121; and United Arab Emirates 143

Gesellschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit 121 girdling 39 Global Housing Program 53 global warming 39, 173 globalization 3–4, 43, 47, 51, 75, 98, 134, 213 glue-laminated timber (glulam) 68, 87, 139, 145 Göbekli Tepe 17 Gohar Khatoon Girls’ School 23 Golden, E. 75 GoodPlanet 192 Gothic architecture 154 grain of wood 18, 38–9 granite 17–18 grasses 15, 28–35, 48, 172–3, 175, 180, 205–6, 208 Great Depression 2 Great Plains 32 Grünhelme 104 guadua 46 Gugler Printing Plant 93 guidelines 2, 129–30, 213 Gyanak Mani 148, 152 gypsum 19, 194 H&P Architects 173, 197, 199 halved joints 40 handmade building 1 handworkers 67 hardwood 36, 38 Harvard Graduate School of Design (GSD) 203–4 Haus am Moor 133, 135, 164–9, 218 Haus Rauch 13, 172, 186–90 Haus Walpen 43–4 heartwood 38 heat gain 13, 114, 177–8, 194 Hebel, D. 51 hemp 86 Herzog & de Meuron 91 Al Hidaya School 192–4 Hilti Foundation 81 Himalayas 22, 172, 174 Hindus 174 Holland 139 Hostal Ritoque 43, 69–74 Hua Yang 127 humanitarian aid organizations 35

humidity 10–11, 13, 36, 67, 93, 143, 172, 189–90 Hunnarshala Foundation 145 hurricanes 84 hybrid systems 3–4, 20, 30, 51, 85 hydronic systems 13, 24, 93, 145, 166, 190 hydrophobic properties 29 hygroscopic properties 29, 36, 47 hygrothermal properties 13 hypocausts 177 Hyuga Villa 46 identities 1, 16, 62–94 igneous rock 18 Immobilière 3F 154 Incas 19 India 2, 22, 61, 145, 172, 174, 213 indigenous materials see local materials Indonesia 39, 212 Industrial Revolution 1, 42 industrialization 1–2, 15–16, 22, 52, 64, 70, 94, 98, 164, 219 infestations 103, 107, 144 infrastructure 17–18, 46, 80, 98, 104, 132, 145, 174, 201, 215 innovation 34, 47, 52, 60, 86, 135, 181, 186 insects 28, 36, 48, 52, 103, 107, 161 Institute for Lightweight Structures, Stuttgart 46 Institute for Standardization (DIN) 60 insulation 2–3, 13, 15, 22–4, 29, 33; in Austria 166, 189; in China 130; in France 158; in India 175; in Morocco 194, 196; in Sweden 140; in Switzerland 93; in UK 86–7, 89–90; in United Arab Emirates 144; in USA 113–14; and wood 35, 39, 43 International Centre for Earth Construction (CRAterre) 196 International Network for Bamboo and Rattan (INBAR) 53, 212

International Standards Organization (ISO) 213 interpreters 181 intrusive igneous rock 18 Iran 76 Iraq 9, 28–9 irregular stone walls 20 Italy 34 Jacobsen, A. 37 Al Jahili Fort, Al Ain 13, 134, 142–6 Jamaica 213 Japan 30, 35, 39, 43–4, 46, 48, 61, 63–4, 66–8, 88 Jeanneret, P. 3 Jenney, W. 46 Jericho 8 Jianamani Visitor Center 134–5, 147–52 joint types 36, 40–1, 48, 61, 64, 66 Jun Mu 127 just-in-time delivery 87–8 jute 16, 180 Kamara, M. 75, 218 KanBan 88 Kargyak Learning Center 172, 174–8 Kassel University 212 Katwico cooperative 121 Kengo Kuma & Associates 33 Kenya 98 Kéré Architecture 100, 117 Kéré, F. 99–101, 103–4 Bin Khalifa, Z. 142 Khullar, S. 174 knowledge transfer 4, 98–9, 107 labor 2, 16–17, 34, 42, 98, 134; in Bangladesh 181; in Burkina Faso 101, 104; in China 128; in Ecuador 122, 124; and future architecture 212; in Japan 64, 66; in Niger 76, 79; in Rwanda 119, 121; in Senegal 209; in Switzerland 93–4 Lachhwani, K. 174, 178 Lagerlöf, S. 141 Lai, H. 174

laminated bamboo lumber (LBL) 51–2 lamination 3, 51–3, 68, 87 lapped joints 40–1 larch 166 lashing 48, 50, 124, 161, 205 Latin America 46, 48, 53, 82 Le Korsa 203 Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) 60 Leatherbarrow, D. 1 Lehm Ton Erde Baukunst 93, 186 Lehmann, L. 23, 154, 158 Lehmbau Regein 12–13, 60 Leschot, G.A. 19 Li Wan 127 Liechtenstein 164 lignin 29, 33, 36, 46 LILAC 88–9 lime 13, 18–20, 82, 94, 114–15, 129, 187, 190 limestone 17–19, 139, 154 loadbearing systems 10, 32, 34, 60, 62; in Austria 187; in Bangladesh 182; in Chile 69; in France 156, 158; in Morocco 191, 194; in Niger 77; in Rwanda 121; and stone 17, 22; in Switzerland 94; in UK 87; in USA 114; in Vietnam 202; and wood 35–6, 43 local labor 34, 64, 85, 88, 97–126, 134–5, 181 local materials 1–3, 60, 68, 98, 133–5, 172–3; in Austria 164, 166, 169, 186, 190; bamboo 46, 52–3; in Bangladesh 180, 185; in Burkina Faso 101, 103, 105; in Chile 70, 74; in China 128, 130, 132, 148, 150, 152; in Ecuador 122, 126; and future architecture 212–13, 215, 218–19; in India 174–5, 177; in Japan 68; in Morocco 191; in Niger 76–7; in Philippines 82–3, 106–7, 111; reeds/grasses 33; in Rwanda 118, 121; in Senegal 204, 206; stone 16, 22–3; in Sweden 139; in UK 88, 90; in Vietnam 201; wood 35, 42–3

Index

225

log construction 39–40, 43–4 logistics 1, 60, 218 longitudinal sections 77, 92, 155, 182, 188 Lopez Community Land Trust (LCLT) 112–14 Lopez Island affordable housing project 35, 112–16 low-carbon materials 42, 86–8 low-cost housing see affordable housing low-tech practices 1–2, 14 Lutcha house 61 Ma’anqiao Village Reconstruction 99, 127–32 McLeod, M. 3 Mactavish, J. 204 Magdalénien hut 40 magma 18 maintenance 82, 84, 98, 103–4, 110, 116, 132, 154, 214, 218 Maison de Weekend 3 Maison Sec 3 Maisons Murondins 3 Make Architects 35 Malay communities 36 Mali 98 MAMOTH 191–2 Mander, T. 87 mani stones 148–9, 152 Mañosa & Company 52–3 mantras 148 marble 18 masons 19, 24, 79, 98, 119, 134, 150, 178, 218 mass production 3, 16, 35, 42–3, 52, 60, 98 master builders 98, 154 materiality 1, 107, 134, 148, 166 Mesopotamia 9 metal 32, 48, 61, 66, 69, 75, 103–4, 110, 119, 129, 140, 161, 180, 182 metamorphic rock 18 metaphysics 17 micro Trombe wall systems 172 Middle Ages 39, 41 middle class 52, 76 migration 9, 76, 81, 174, 191, 203, 213–14 milestones 17 millaria 17

226

Index

Miller, R. 112 MINERGIE 35 Ministry of Housing and UrbanRural Development of China (MHURD) 127, 130 minka houses 39 Mithun 112–13 mock-ups 99, 107, 152, 162 ModCell Straw Technology 35, 60, 86–90 modeling 13, 66, 84, 87–8, 99, 107, 124, 126, 132, 140, 152, 181, 204 modernism 46 modular systems 43, 53, 63–4, 66, 70, 87, 101, 124, 156, 173, 201 moisture/moisture resistance 3, 9–13, 15, 29–30, 33, 172; in Austria 189–90; and bamboo 46–7; in Morocco 194; in Rwanda 119; in Senegal 205; in Sweden 141; in Switzerland 93; in UK 87; in USA 114–15; and wood 36, 39 monsoons 127, 179 moon phases 166 Mori, T. 203–4 Morocco 173, 191, 194, 196 mortar 15, 18–20, 52, 60, 93, 119, 144–5, 156, 194 mortgages 88 mortise-and-tenon joints 40–1, 43 Muslims 174 Myanmar 212 Naturum Visitor Centers 136 Neolithic period 8, 36, 46 Nepal 212 Netherlands 34, 179 New Zealand 13 Ng, E. 127 Niamey 2000 61, 75–80 Niger 9, 61, 75–7, 80, 213, 218 nomads 36, 60 non-profit organizations 104, 112, 145, 174 North America 32, 39, 42 Northern Hemisphere 38 Nottingham University 35 nouss-nouss 194 Nueva Esperanza 99, 122

Occitanie Pierres 23 Onjuku Beach House 43, 63–8 Opera Village and Center for Health Care and Social Promotion 100–6, 117 opus quadratum walls 20 Other 3 Otto, F. 46 overhangs 10, 36, 103–4, 110, 114–15 Pacific 69, 81, 114 Pakistan 8, 35 Palestine 28 palms 48, 107, 124, 144–5, 191 Pani Community Center 172, 179–85 Pani Foundation 179 papyrus 29 Passive House 35 Passive House Institute 87 patents 19, 24 Pavillon de L’Esprit Nouveau 3 pedagogy 122, 125 pegging 50, 161 performance 2, 22–3, 60–1, 98, 134; in Burkina Faso 101, 104; in China 128–9; and earth 9, 12, 15; in France 158; and future architecture 212–13; in Japan 68; in Niger 76–7; performative architecture 171–209; in Philippines 82–4; and plant materials 28, 33, 35; in Rwanda 119; in UK 86–7, 90; in USA 114 Perraudin Architectes 23 Perraudin, G. 23 Peru 9, 42, 46, 48, 82, 212–13 Philippines 46, 48, 52–3, 80–5, 99, 106, 212, 218 Philippines Bamboo Foundation 107 phloem 38 photovoltaic arrays 113 Phragmites australis 29 physiology 36 pilgrimages 148 pine 43, 70, 73, 139 Pingtian Agriculture Museum and Crafts Workshop 211, 215–16, 218 place making 133–5

planners 212 plant materials 27–55, 173 plant species 29 plaster 3, 10, 13, 28, 30, 32; in Austria 189–90; and bamboo 44, 46; in Bangladesh 185; in China 127, 130, 132; in France 156; and future architecture 218; in India 175; in Morocco 191, 194–5; in Niger 76, 79; in Philippines 82–3, 85; in UK 90; in United Arab Emirates 144–5; in USA 114–16; and wood 35, 40 platbands 156 Pleistocene Epoch 47 plutonic igneous rock 18 plywood 51, 66, 114 Poacaea family 29, 46 Poland 139 pollution 13, 33, 42, 162 porphyry 18 Portland cement 13 post-and-beam system 63–4, 67 post-occupancy surveys 85, 130 Pouillon, F. 154 poverty 53, 76, 80, 82, 100, 127, 179 precut technology 64, 67–8 prefabrication 14, 16, 35, 42–3, 52–3, 59–60; in Austria 166, 187; in France 154; in Japan 63–4, 67; in Philippines 83–5; in Switzerland 92–4; in UK 87, 89; in Vietnam 161–3, 201 primitive architecture 171 profit 77 properties 1–3, 5; of bamboo 46–7; of earth 9–10; of grasses 29; of reeds 29; of wood 36–9 property values 98 prototypes 82, 84, 87, 100, 128–30, 132, 201 Pucca construction 61 pumice 189–90 pyramids 17–19, 22 Q-Mark 60, 87 qi 17 quality factors 11, 13, 60, 98, 135, 173; in Austria 164, 166, 169; in Chile 69–70, 74; in

China 129, 132; in France 154; and future architecture 212; in Morocco 194; in Philippines 82–5, 107; and plant materials 41–2, 52; in Rwanda 119, 121; in Senegal 209; in Switzerland 91, 93; in UK 87–8 quarries 18–21, 23–4, 134, 139, 148, 150, 154, 156, 158 R-value 13 rain 10, 33, 46, 48, 85, 172; in Austria 190; in Bangladesh 179, 181, 185; in China 127; in Senegal 203–4; in Sweden 140; in Switzerland 93; in United Arab Emirates 144; in Vietnam 197 rammed earth 2–3, 8–15, 59, 61–2, 99, 172–3; in Austria 187, 189–90; in China 127–9; in Morocco 191, 194; in Philippines 110; in Switzerland 92–4; in United Arab Emirates 145 rattan 48, 161–2, 194, 201, 212 Rauch, M. 93, 186–7, 190 recent developments 2, 12–16, 21–4, 32–5, 42–3, 51–3 reconstruction projects 22, 34, 99, 127–32, 147–8, 216 recycling 130, 144, 201 reeds 3, 11, 16, 28–35, 42, 134, 138–41, 172–3, 189 rehabilitation 213–18 renewable resources 1–2, 60, 82, 107, 113, 159, 163, 173 repairs 33, 76, 86, 98, 104, 115, 141–2, 175, 206, 218 Research Institute of the Philippines 84 resilience 46, 85, 173 Restionaceae family 29 revitalization 213–18 Ricola Kräuterzentrum 59, 61, 91–4 Romans 17–19, 21, 156 roofers 30 Roswag & Jankowski Architekten 13, 142–3 rough-hewn walls 20 Rudolphy + Soffia Arquitectos 69–70

Rudolphy, G. 43, 69, 74 rushes 29 Rwanda 98, 117–19 sacred landscapes 8, 19, 35, 134, 148–50, 152 safety 87 Sahara 9 Sahel 76, 218 sand molding 119 sandstone 18, 186 Scandinavia 42, 136 Schilder, G. Jr. 179 SchilderScholte Architects 179 Schlingensief, C. 100–1, 105 Schmidt, W. 35 Scholte, H. 179 Scientific Management 3 sculptors 17 sedges 29–30 sedimentary rock 18 seismic forces 15, 22, 66, 135, 173; in Chile 70, 73; in China 127–9, 150; in India 175; in Japan 66; in Morocco 194; in Philippines 82; and plant materials 35, 43, 47–8; in Rwanda 121; in Switzerland 92 Semi-Pucca house 61 Senegal 172, 203–5 Sharon Davis Design 117, 119 Shelter 34 Shintoism 35 Sichuan Province 99, 127 silica 18, 29, 46–7 simulations 87, 129 Singapore 51 site plans 70, 118, 143 Skanska 88 skilled labor 2, 53, 60, 66, 98–9, 135; in Bangladesh 181; in Burkina Faso 104–5; in Ecuador 122, 125; and future architecture 212; in Rwanda 117, 119; in UK 88 slate 18 slop molding 119 snow 30, 40 social housing, Bry-sur-Marne 23 Soffia, A. 43, 69, 74 softwood 36, 38, 87

Index

227

soils 8–15, 36, 47, 77, 93, 103, 172, 186–7, 190, 194 solar power 13, 113–14, 116, 190, 204 Somalia 98 sorbtive properties 13 sound absorption 29 South America 42 Southeast Asia 47, 173, 201 Spanish 46, 107 spruce 139, 166 standardization 2–3, 15–16, 42, 51–3, 59–95, 98, 129, 154, 172, 212–13 status 42, 52, 61, 75, 79, 82, 104, 142 steel 2–3, 16–17, 44, 46–7, 60; and bamboo 44, 46–7, 52; in China 129; in India 173, 178; in Morocco 191, 194, 196; in Niger 77; in Philippines 82–3; in Rwanda 119; in Senegal 205–6; in Vietnam 161 stigmatization 8, 16, 75 stone 16–24, 28, 36, 134–5, 172; in Austria 187; and bamboo 47–8; in Bangladesh 180; in China 130, 148, 151–2; in France 154, 156, 158; in India 174–5, 177–8; in Morocco 194; in Philippines 107; stone cutters 19; stonemasons 19, 24, 79, 98, 119, 134, 150, 178, 218 storms 33, 36, 106, 142, 173, 190, 197, 202 Straeter, P. 75 stråtak 138–9 stratified walls 20 straw 11, 14–15, 30, 40, 75, 86–90, 138, 140, 156, 174–5, 194 Straw Bale and Appropriate Building 35 straw bales 2–3, 29, 32–5, 60, 87, 89, 98, 114–16 structural engineers 32, 73 students 53, 99, 105–7, 110, 114, 125–6, 194, 204, 212 Stuttgart University 46 sub-Saharan Africa 79, 98, 103 supply chain 1, 60, 83–4, 88 sustainability 1, 16, 23, 29,

228

Index

34, 60–1; and bamboo 53; in China 132; and future architecture 212, 218; in Niger 76; in Philippines 81, 84; and wood 35, 42–3 sweat equity 35, 98, 112, 114 Sweden 43, 134, 136, 138–9, 141 Swedish Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) 136 Swiss Ornithological Institute 93 Switzerland 34–5, 43, 91–2, 164 Tåkern Visitor Center 34, 134, 136–41 Tam Vong 161 tamelas 194 Tanzania 212 tatami 64, 66 Taut, B. 46 termites 103, 144 testing 12, 60, 129, 213 Thailand 44 thatch/thatched roofs 28–35, 75–6, 86, 134, 172; in Ecuador 124; in Philippines 107, 110; in Rwanda 119; in Senegal 204–8; in Sweden 138–41; thatchers 139–40; in Vietnam 159, 162, 199 thermal properties 2, 10, 60, 77, 169, 172; in Austria 169, 187; in Bangladesh 181, 185; in China 129; and earth 13; in France 158; in India 174, 177; in Morocco 194; in Niger 77; in Philippines 84; and plant materials 33, 39, 43; and stone 23–4; in UK 86–7, 90; in United Arab Emirates 143; in USA 114 Thermo Pierre 24 Thesiger, W. 143 Thread Artist Residency and Cultural Center 172, 203–9 Tibet 147–8, 150 Tibetan Buddhists 148, 174 Tibetan Plateau 134, 147 tides 70 Tiegang Zhou 127 tiling 89, 91, 127, 138, 172, 187, 189–90 timber see wood

timber-frame construction 39, 61, 65, 67, 82, 87–8, 114, 166 Toraja houses 39 Toshiko Mori Architect 203 tourism 134, 141, 148, 164, 174, 215 Towards a New Architecture 3 Townsend, A. 66 trade guilds 98 traditional identity 62–94, 134–5, 140 traditional methods 1–4, 10–12, 60–1, 134–5, 172–3; in Austria 164, 166; and bamboo 47–50, 57; in Burkina Faso 103; in China 127–8, 148, 150; in Ecuador 122; in France 156, 158; and future architecture 212–13, 215–16, 218; in India 177; in Morocco 191, 194, 196; in Philippines 106, 111; and reeds/grasses 29–33; in Rwanda 117–18; in Senegal 206; stone 18–20; in Sweden 139; in Switzerland 93; in UK 87, 90; in USA 115; in Vietnam 161, 201; and wood 39–42 traditional villages designation 214 training 2, 53, 64, 98–9, 135; in Austria 164; in Bangladesh 179–80; in Burkina Faso 103–4; in China 130; and future architecture 212; in Philippines 82, 84–5, 107; in Rwanda 117, 119, 121; in Senegal 204; in United Arab Emirates 145; in USA 113; in Vietnam 162 Tran Ngoc Phuong 199 Transcontinental Railroad 32 transport 2, 16, 19, 24, 60, 172; in Austria 166, 186–7; in Chile 69; in China 127; in France 154, 156; in India 178; in Japan 63; in Morocco 191; in Switzerland 93; in UK 88; and wood 36, 39, 42 transverse sections 109, 165, 192 Trucial Oman Scouts 142

Tsinghua University Institute of Planning 216 turf 30 Turkey 17, 33 typhoons 47, 67, 81–4, 107, 110, 172–3, 197 U-value 13 La Ultima Esperanza 125–6 unfired earth masonry 8, 15, 60, 103, 121, 173, 218 United Arab Emirates (UAE) 134, 142 United Kingdom (UK) 15, 33, 35, 60, 86–9 United States of America (USA) 1–3, 13, 22, 60, 98, 112–16; and Japan 68; and Niger 76; and Philippines 106; and plant materials 32, 34–5, 40, 42; and Senegal 203 united4design 75–6 University of East Anglia (UEA) 33 University of the West of England 87 upper class 52 Ur, Iraq 9 urbanism/urban migration 9, 76, 81, 174, 191, 203, 213–14 urbanization 42, 81, 145, 159, 162, 212, 214–15 URBATEC 77 uses of stone 18 Valdivia people 46 Vauzelle, D. 192, 196 Vietnam 45, 53, 135, 159, 161–2, 173, 197, 201 Villa Sørensen 37

Village-Level Brickmaking 121 Vo Trong Nghia Architects 53, 135, 159, 162–3 Vorarlberg, Austria 42, 133, 164, 218 wallboard 16 water 10–12, 29–30, 39, 42, 172; in Austria 190; and bamboo 47; in Chile 74; and future architecture 218; in India 174–5; in Morocco 194; in Philippines 110; in Rwanda 119; in Senegal 204–5, 207; in Sweden 136, 139, 141; in Switzerland 94; in USA 113; in Vietnam 161, 197, 199, 201–2 wattle-and-daub technique 30, 202 wavelengths 39 weathering 18, 93, 110, 175, 190, 194 weaving 28–30, 39–40, 44, 48, 61, 82, 118, 161, 202 Weber, N.F. 203–4 Weißenhofsiedlung 3 West Africa 75 Weston, R. 134 wetlands 29, 34, 121, 134, 136, 141 White, C. 87 White Design 86 White, F. 90 wildlife 47, 141 Wind and Water Bar 135, 159–63 winds 18, 40, 47–8, 66–7, 84, 107, 110, 135, 159, 162, 173, 178, 183, 201–2 Wingårdh Arkitektkontor 34, 136

Women for Women International (WfWI) 117, 119 Women’s Opportunity Center (WOC) 97–8, 117–21 wood 2, 35–43, 60, 133, 135, 173; in Austria 164, 166, 187, 189–90; and bamboo 46–8, 51–2; in Chile 69–70, 73–4; in China 129–30, 148; and earth 11, 15; in France 154; in India 175; in Japan 63, 67–8; in Morocco 194; in Niger 76; in Philippines 82–3; and reeds/ grasses 29–30, 32; and stone 16, 20; in Sweden 139; in UK 86–7, 89; in United Arab Emirates 145; in USA 114; woodworking 39, 42, 61, 64 workshops 34, 100, 105, 107, 125, 132; in Austria 187, 190; in Bangladesh 181–2, 185; in China 150; in France 156; and future architecture 211, 215–16, 218; in Morocco 192; in Senegal 205 World Bank 81 World War I 34 World War II 1, 64, 154 Xi’an University of Architecture and Technology 127 yak felt 177 Yi community 127 Yusuhara Marche 33 Zero Carbon Standard 86 Zhang, B. 148 Ziggurat of Ur 9 zylem 38

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229