TA23-S O-Pages - Flipbook - Page 7
Editor’s Note
Invisible Systems
“Oppenheimer” explores the morally nebulous
development of the atomic bomb.
by Anastasia Calhoun, Assoc. AIA, NOMA
“I wish I could award the program.”
FILM STILL FROM “OPPENHEIMER,” WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY CHRISTOPHER NOLAN, 2023. PRODUCED BY EMMA THOMAS, CHARLES ROVEN, AND CHRISTOPHER NOLAN.
W
hile brief, this passing comment made by one of the
jurors during this year’s TxA
Design Awards deliberation
re昀氀ects many suppositions
underpinning how design is conceptualized —
and thus awarded — today. In contemporary
architectural practice, design is typically conceived as a process separate from programming;
rather, it is usually thought to be the physical
product or environment that is created. Once a
program is de昀椀ned, that is when true “design”
commences. And while some 昀椀rms may also take
on programming, even then, it usually falls under
pre-design or pre-development phases that are
separated from core design services.
But is this correct? Where does design really
begin? When pen touches paper, or — more
likely these days — at the 昀椀rst click of a mouse?
At the identi昀椀cation of a need? Or is it during
the 昀椀rst steps taken to solve a problem?
In his book “Designing Our Way to a Better
World,” Thomas Fisher, professor of architecture, director of the Minnesota Design Center,
and the Dayton Hudson Land Grant Chair in
Urban Design at the University of Minnesota,
lays the groundwork for a more holistic approach
to design. He writes:
We tend to think of design in terms of the visible
world around us: the buildings we occupy and the
products we use. But the ‘invisible’ systems that we
depend on in our daily lives — the infrastructure
buried beneath our feet or in our walls, the educational
and health systems that we all experience as we age
or become ill, and the economic and political systems
that a昀昀ect in us myriad ways over time — remain
just as much designed as anything that we inhabit
or use. Many of us may not think of them this way.
Because we cannot ‘see’ or ‘touch’ them, our political,
economic, health, education, and infrastructure systems
may appear to lie beyond anyone’s ability to change
them, even though they all arose from some sort of
design process. Because of the scale of these systems,
as seemingly vast as the invisible ‘dark matter’ and
‘dark energy’ that constitute 96 percent of the universe,
they may appear too di昀케cult to move. But we can shift
them if we think of them as a whole and look for the
levers that can lead to the greatest transformation.
Why do we generally conceive of design as the
creation of physical objects or environments?
Why do most of the design processes that
pervade our daily lives remain so invisible? And
what can designers contribute to these invisible
processes, services, and systems?
Because most people responsible for “designing” these invisible systems have no training
in design thinking or how to employ a design
process, many of these systems that so radically
impact our daily lives are implemented without
critical examination of possible futures, including
likely failures and unintended consequences.
To further illustrate the point, let’s look at
an example inspired by this summer’s cinematic blockbuster, “Oppenheimer.” By today’s
standards, would the atom bomb be worthy of a
design award? It certainly was innovative, requiring a harnessing of the collective knowledge
of the greatest scientists of the time, many of
whom were Nobel Prize winners. It certainly was
impactful, its development permanently altering
life on earth as we know it and heralding in a new
era known as the Atomic Age. It certainly was
e昀昀ective, too: Highly e昀케cient in their lethality,
the two bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki killed around 200,000 people and e昀昀ectively
brought an end to World War II in just under a
month. If we are to disregard “program” in this
case, I believe it is likely that this technology, by
most standards today, would be worthy of an
award. But I know I, for one, have a very di昀케cult
time separating the human consequences from
the artifact, or the program from the design.
This is, admittedly, an extreme example, but
extremes can help us to gain clarity on the softer,
hazier middles. If a program with the potential
for negative consequences is di昀케cult to separate
from the credibility of its design, why shouldn’t
we, conversely, give a project with a noble and
noteworthy program greater attention?
Many architects and 昀椀rms have already taken
on much of this invisible work — like programming, community and engagement, research
design, and post-occupancy evaluation — and I
suspect the scope of architects will only continue
to grow as the global challenges we face in this
world become increasingly complex and more
dire. Granted, this type of design work isn’t
nearly as easy to assess as a beautiful object in a
photograph. But as Fisher writes, “Like science
at the beginning of the 20th century, design now
faces its own unchallenged assumptions and
unquestioned paradoxes, and it too has its own
hidden universes to explore.”
9/10 2023
Texas Architect 5