The Front-line of a Thunderstorm

  We left Venice, we left Munich, we left London, and we left Paris. Each city had been, in its turn, more stimulating than the last. We planned our days to the last degree. With lists in hand, we boarded the metro in the morning, and never put less than 10km on our shoes by nightfall. Only one list was short; a single destination. From the metro, we transferred to the commuter train, and from the commuter train to a regional one. By degrees, we made our way to Vimy.

       Walking into Vimy, each quiet street gave way to another quiet street. The town was vacant, but watchful. As we folded and refolded our printout map and walking directions, it became clear that we were travelling by instinct and not by plan. 

       "It’s a ridge; we're walking uphill; this has to be the way."

       It was hot, with a familiar and comforting humidity. We knew this weather in Southern-Ontario. Just like home, it would take a summer storm to cut that kind of heat.

       We walked out of town. On the road, the speed limit increased from 50km/hr to 80km/hr. The highway was never part of the plan. Neither was the heat. 

       We walked the road for over an hour before we saw the ridge. Over the highway berm, silhouetted against a dark sky, we could see the white monument. 

       We looked across the plain sloping away from the ridge. Farms sat under a low ceiling of clouds, rapidly hiding the sky from our sight. The fields anticipated the rain - I breathed in the moisture. We stood upon the infamous ridge at the front-line of a thunderstorm.

       

       A stretch of farmland separated us from our goal. The highway lead past the monument into Givenchy. My eyes searched the field for a path - I found none. I envisioned a shotgun-wielding farmer chasing us out of his field. We stuck to the road. Single-file, we continued to parallel the ridge. Sweat and humidity dampened our clothes. Each passing truck stirred up gusts of wind, giving relief from the sticky heat. 

       Entering Givenchy damp and dust-covered, we lost sight of the monument. We had walked 4km from Vimy. 

       "Perhaps it would have been better to risk the field route: We could have seen where we were headed."

       The sidewalks were inviting. We decided not to return to the highway. Up ahead was an intersection - we agreed to re-evaluate our plan there.

       “Mémorial Canadien” read the sign. Our saviour was an arrow pointing left. A smile returned to my face. We turned left uphill into a residential neighbourhood. Trees and roofs now hid the monument. The oncoming storm clouds pointed the way.

       The thunderstorm reminded us that we had no raingear and were miles from the train station. 

       "It is a stretch to call it a station: it looked like a bus shelter."

       The sky ahead shifted from shades of blue-grey to black. I checked my watch to measure the time. 90 minutes had passed. We wanted to make it back for the last train.

       We headed out of the neighbourhood, crossing fields. We could see the monument once more: It was closer. We had made progress, despite how roundabout our path seemed to be.

       Grit covered the road. We walked the edge of the pavement, asphalt crumbling at every step. Gravel and bits of asphalt crunched underfoot. We pressed ahead, stirring up dust with our footsteps. This was not unlike the back roads of my childhood. Streets had no need for curbs or painted lines or sidewalks: They were take-it or leave-it routes. This was not a popular route - We were alone.

       We walked. Sweat tickled as it rolled down my back. I thought about how similar this place was to home. I imagined the Niagara Escarpment rising ahead of me. Summer for summer, it felt the same. I recalled summers at home; humid days, thunderclouds, and crumbly back roads. I lifted my eyes from the asphalt. This was not home.

       A forgotten bunker sat in the berm beside the road. We had seen war artifacts, but this was ours. We stared at the worn graffiti-covered object. Wordlessly we crossed the street to look. I imagined the ground bloodied and bodies strewn about. Neither of us could enter. I clambered up the berm alongside the bunker, uncertain what I expected to see. Poking my head over the top, I saw advancing enemy lines. I blinked - A winery and vineyard came into view. Beyond, our own foe loomed. A low rumble echoed across the farmland. I skidded back down the dirt to street level. We had to beat the storm up the ridge. 

       Our street narrowed as it rose. It passed another neighbourhood and banked right. The monument was uphill and to the left. We stood at the bend, staring ahead into a woodlot. A tractor path disappeared into the woods turning left, heading farther up the hill.

       We left the street behind.

       

       We hiked. The path rose steeper with each step as we travelled deeper into the lot. The twin tractor ruts abandoned us at the first field. Only a narrow strip of dirt continued on. We followed a worn trail- someone had come this way before. The trees sheltered us as the storm clouds roiled overhead.

       The trees thinned into a line of brush, dividing the right field from the left. We trod the property line single file. We passed through dense foliage and once again lost sight of the monument. A hush overcame us - All we heard were our footfalls. I wondered if there were any unspent explosives underfoot. 

       "Could 90-year-old explosives detonate?"

       We stuck to the path.

       A flash of darkness and a warbling sound broke our silence. We stumbled to a halt, staring into the brush where the pheasant had been. My heart pounded. I grinned at my companion. When we had caught our breath from laughing, the sanctity of our journey was gone.

       The hedgerow thinned beyond the pheasant's hideaway. Now we were in full view of the monument and at the mercy of the elements. A breeze swept over the ridge from the West. The wind carried the smell of rain. Our trail was the no-man's land between combine tracks on the left and right. We no longer needed a path. We aimed for the memorial, and walked.

       The land rose to a plateau. I watched my step as I trod through the upturned soil. At the edge of the churned dirt, a wild flower grew. I stopped and crouched. One lonely flower. John McCrae's flower. Trembling in the breeze on a fragile stem, the poppy held its ground.

       Unlike all the other poppies on the ridge, no one had planted this flower. It adorned no gravestone, yet it surely marked a grave. We stared at the vibrant petals which dared the earth to remember: a red poppy in a soon-to-be muddy landscape. We watched the delicate petals wave to the sky.

       Overhead, cloud cover danced across the sky. On both sides, the ridge sloped away to fertile plains. 

       "No wonder this was a turning point in the battle, this ridge is the most defendable land for miles."

        Shadows shifted across the land below us, and intensified closer to the ridge. We remained distant from the monument.

       Ahead, the path dipped headlong into another hedgerow. Leaving the poppy behind, we pressed onwards. Soon, impenetrable underbrush obscured our path. We instinctively moved towards the least dense part of the bush. An embankment was hidden within the hedgerow. As we reached the edge, my eyes fell. I spotted a barbed wire fence crossing our trail. Beyond that, a low-lying yellow and black wire stretched between standoffs: an electrified wire. We had to find another way.

       The brush line extended beyond sight in both directions. Part of it had electrified fence within it. With no obvious gaps or gates, our pilgrimage ground to a halt. The monument mocked us over the hedge. The storm scorned our foolishness.

       I took a deep breath. Unclenching my fists, we paralleled the edge.

       "Left was as good an option as right."

       Not far from us a path disappeared into the brush. We moved quickly to the opening in the hedgerow. I skidded down the embankment, wary of unseen fences. Unscathed, I landed on a path. Looking up the hill, I could see a break in the fence. I motioned that the route was safe. We hurried up the path. 

       

       We ascended the ridge from the East. Two hours after arriving in Vimy, we stepped onto Canadian soil. Our campaign was at an end. We took the ridge. Over 6000km from home, we had made it. Solemnly we climbed the platform. Surrounded by over 11000 names of Canadians, we paid our respects. 

       

        The storm ascended the ridge from the West. Thunder peals came in greater frequency. We stood unprotected under a threatening sky. The storm had reached a crescendo. Hovering above us, the sky released its ammunition. Our foe was merciless, and the ridge - once again - belonged to the besiegers from the West. 

Living Light: Part 2

In response to the challenge of living within 75 cubic metres, the following proposed dwelling includes all the basic recognizable implements of "home", just on a different scale and with required lifestyle modifications. We can't continue to live the way we live now, surrounded by so much STUFF if we want to be able to live lightly. This is probably the single greatest lifestyle modification required to inhabit this little manifesto of minimum existence dwelling. The following images are sketches and photos of a model which could be placed individually within existing suburban neighbourhoods or in clusters as a site provided.

At the core of the project is a hearth, with an integral fireplace, oven, and stove top. I also imagine that a hot water tank could be included in the radiant chimney portion to benefit from the warm exhaust air. All of the living spaces are off of the chimney core to be heated only by the stove in the winter months. The bedrooms are situated on the second floor, giving them the warmest spaces when the heat rises during the coldest nights. All this would be for naught if it were not for the highly insulated walls and minimal window openings. Heat loss through the building envelope (walls, roof, and floor included) must be kept to a minimum if an internal fireplace is going to keep a space warm for any length of time. Structurally insulated panels (SIPs) are therefore proposed, not only for their great insulative quality, but also because of their ability to be pre-fabricated for accuracy and easy and fast installation on site. Windows have been limited in size and would be triple-glazed argon-filled units to have the greatest R-value, but they will still be the greatest source of heat-loss in the envelope.

A few space-saving techniques have been employed in the little residence which include pneumatic drop-down cupboards in the kitchen (which are hidden in the base of a shelving unit in the bedroom above) to allow for full visibility and light-penetration when stored up in the ceiling. On the second level, a sliding partition can be hidden between the shelves if the spare room is to be used as an office, or, if a visitor is over, it can be pulled shut for privacy. The bathroom does not have a sink simply because there is a perfectly fine sink in the kitchen right across from the bathroom. Stairs are a luxury when considering net cubic space, and thus, to get the most living space out of the residence, ladders were employed. Unfortunately that makes this dwelling exclusive to able-bodied residents, but surely another similarly designed small unit could be adequately barrier-free for such persons. Another feature of the home is a garden balcony which would allow the residents to grow their own fruits or vegetables without taking up any property beyond the footprint of their home. This balcony also provides shelter for the front entrance, but also a side of the house which would be ideal for storing and keeping firewood dry since wood is a requirement as the main source of fuel for the household.

The manifesto project is capable of being a stand alone unit or being combined into blocks, depending on what a site would allow. The intended site or sites for these small residential units is within existing suburban neighbourhoods which have large front yards and low population density. This would allow for the manifesto resident to be independent from the owner of the house (unlike a back yard unit) and have an address on the street. Due to the small scale, most suburban lots have more than adequate space to hold a single unit on the front yard without hindering light access to the house behind. As a smaller building closer to the street, not only would these facilitate a higher population density, but they would also introduce a more pedestrian scale to neighbourhoods filled with enormous homes set far back from the street.

Sketches of the units installed on an existing suburban street

Second Floor and Ground Floor Plans not to scale,
but approximately 4m wide by 4.5m long

Cross-sections across the length of the residence.
The ceiling height on the ground floor is 2.4m and 2.2m on the second floor.

Cross-section across the width of the residence

Model Photo with two walls removed

Model Photo with wall pulled back
to expose interior view to hearth

Model Photo with kitchen
cupboards retracted

Model Photo with kitchen
cupboards lowered

Model Photo showing wall-ladder
integration to spare bedroom

Model photo showing ladder
to main bedroom and hearth

Model Photo from above.

Living Light: Part 1

Sometimes while traveling through the suburbs I feel like pulling into a driveway and confronting the owner of a cookie-cutter monstrosity. I could never actually do it, but I still formulate the hypothetical conversation in my mind since there is little else to do while passing through the suburban territories. I imagine that it would involve me asking the owner why he felt that he deserved such a large portion of what has been given to us, the inhabitants of the earth. Of course he has no answer, and neither do I, but this question begins the further debate which I like even more than calling out mansion-dwellers: What is enough?

What would be enough of a home for the average suburban bachelor or couple to live in comfortably? What does it have to look like? How many square metres of floor area would it have? How much of our material possessions would we have to find shelves and closets for? What can we safely throw out and not miss? What kinds of daily conveniences could we part with in order to live a lighter lifestyle?

I'm currently working with 75 cubic metres and trying to wrestle with all of these questions. I believe that this is a completely reasonable dwelling size for every day use. Of course I could make it a temporarily inhabited space, or a home in a temperate climate, or argue that the owners are so committed to this mode of living that they will use an outhouse or cook small meals on a hot plate. But I find none of these to be at all helpful within the reality that we need to find solutions for affluent North Americans who have high expectations of the value of their residences. This is the challenge which I am taking up. Small residences do not have to compromise their familiarity to average people nor their quality of envelope. They should be inexpensive to operate by definition. They should be simple to construct and durable enough to withstand our temperamental Canadian climate. Most of all they should be comfortable during all manner of uses.

The last thing we need is more modernist residences for artists and architects to photograph and objectify in magazines

Recycling: Part 1

I expect that in the coming months I will be doing a very in-depth study of the way that we recycle things. We, meaning most of urban North America, recycle so many different materials with such a variety of procedures that such a study is simply too much to take on at once. Trying to figure out exactly how to quantify the "goodness" or "badness" of the processes will likely be a complicated task in itself, let alone the collection of data and the subsequent analysis and conclusions. Therefore, I'm going to do a smaller, more manageable study of what we recycle in our every-day blue bins. By excluding the complexities of recycling industrial materials and focusing more on the typical residential materials, the process of analysis will hopefully be more clear and easy to take to the next level.

So, what's in your bin? Probably a number of aluminum cans, some newsprint, a few plastic bottles from water or pop, glass jars, empty cereal boxes, maybe a milk carton or a tetra pack. Even with such a small selection of items, we instantly are dealing with several different materials, all of which require a different type of recycling facility to break them down into their basic parts and make them usable again as a raw material. How much energy is expended in this process? How much of the material is unable to be recycled? Which, of all these typical products uses the least amount of energy to be recycled? Which results in the most usable raw material? Are any of these recycling processes worse than the production of the initial material? I am afraid of what some of this research might uncover.

How many of these recycled items will be made into products or packaging of equivalent value as their pre-recycled form? Unfortunately it is common practise that many materials work through a downward cycle of recycling only to end up in the landfill when they can no longer be used. So we have extended the life of the thing, but not really saved it from its inevitable demise in a heap of garbage on the outskirts of a city. So this is recycling? William McDonough and Michael Braungart call this “downcycling” in their book Cradle to Cradle. I tend to agree: if recycling is supposed to be “closing the loop” (the word cycle is in the word after all) of the lifecycle of materials, then we are not yet entirely sucessful. It might make us all feel better about ourselves, but we really should not be calling this downwardly linear progression cyclic.

Introduction: Thesis Aspirations

I am pursuing a graduate degree in architecture to further investigate the ideas to which I was introduced during my years of undergraduate study. I was most intrigued by the material concerning sustainable design and the future of ecologically-friendly or 'green' architecture. This popular topic is discussed today by academics as well as the public; the difference between the knowledge of the professional and the naivety of the public is the gap which I hope to bridge in my research and production of a thesis.

Daily the public is being bombarded with tales of the evils of fossil fuels and carbon emissions from vehicles while they remain relatively ignorant of the load that their homes are putting on the environment. People need to be educated about how the choices that they make can effect waste-reduction and global warming, beyond their transportation decisions. Even for the concerned citizen, the fascination with 'green' materials and renewable energies can blind onlookers to the big picture of sustainability. The consumer wants to make the right choice for the environment so he chooses the material with a special tag or logo, and feels good about himself without really understanding what he has purchased. Not only logos, catch phrases, and bright green tags are attracting attention, but popular advertising and biased data will support a wide range of claims made by 'green' design initiatives. The public wants to know more about how to be environmentally conscious and reduce their ecological footprint, but I am afraid that some of the big-picture first-step choices of sustainability are overlooked in the mad rush to buy the newest high-tech gadget which boasts environmental benefit. This desire to be more sustainable, combined with a better understanding of the available technologies, systems, and materials could shift the market for building supplies, change the sought-after features of a house, and even alter what is perceived to be a "good building" to the average citizen. This is why the public needs to be educated about sustainable building technologies, because without a shift in the public consciousness, society will continue to be unaware of whether materials and products are or are not environmentally sound and no steps will be taken to improve our buildings.

For my thesis I intend to create a film which will educate not only designers, but also the public in matters of sustainable strategies for buildings and development. By researching the advantages and disadvantages of a number of products, materials, or systems, I hope to bring to light some unbiased data including factors such as embodied energy and emissions. This more technical research would be combined with a number of straight forward passive methods for reducing the ecological impact of a building, so as to cover both the first-steps as well as the finer details of environmental initiatives available to the public. This information must be compiled in a physically and intellectually accessible medium, and thus I propose a documentary, or a number of themed short films which would reach a greater audience than could a book today.