Model Making Megan Werner Princeton Architectural Press,New York
Megan Werner Princeton Architectural Press, New York
Contents 9 Foreword 12 Preface 14 Acknowledgments 16 Concept Blocks 84 Materials 94 Tools 108 Applied Technologies 114 Tips Techniques 132 Architectural Concepts 140 Models 157 Bibliography 159 Credits
9 Foreword 12 Preface 14 Acknowledgments 16 Concept Blocks 84 Materials 94 Tools 108 Applied Technologies 114 Tips & Techniques 132 Architectural Concepts 140 Models 157 Bibliography 159 Credits Contents
Foreword Having kindly given over their basement for so many years to the storage of the paper,wood,acrylic,plaster,and metal remnants of my education Emily Abruzzo as a young architect,a few years ago my parents suggested that I take a look at my old models to see if any of them could "go."I had no hesitation about throwing the models away:most of them had been photographed, I was already in graduate school,and disposing of them would be,I thought,cathartic.No longer proud of that early,naive work that had at first given me such delight,I was glad to see it go,now fully invested in digital modeling.I brought the models out to the curb and piled them up for garbage collection. After a night of heavy rain,a mess of wet cardboard and rusty metal was all that was left the next morning.What were the previous day useless objects taking up space,embarrassing reminders of work I no longer liked,had now been melted by the onslaught of weather.The cardboard slumped,twisted,and bowed,the soft woods curved and delaminated, paints peeled,and plaster crumbled.I was amazed not only by what I saw-I had thought these to be heartier objects-but also by my complex, conflicted emotions regarding these rejected works:it made me sad, disappointed,regretful to see them in such a state. Of course,this destruction would have occurred regardless of the weather,but seeing that melted pile has,for me,made all the difference: it made me realize the intrinsic quality of models that I believe to be so important,and that is their ability to elicit emotion.While my regret was undoubtedly related to some remaining investment in my own work, it points to a larger truth:that,nearly always,designers,clients,or others who encounter and interact with models form a connection with them. A physical model is the material embodiment of an idea,and therein lies its magic.By becoming real,it gives life and actuality to an idea in a way that two-dimensional expressions rarely can.While a drawing might prefer,for example,a specific angle of view,the model often has no such luxury.With its three-dimensionality,its reaction to light and materiality, a model is perceived in innumerable and unpredictable ways.The viewer's active role-the onus to construct view,to place one's eye and hand on the object,and take in its space,details,shape,or texture-allows for an emotional relationship,a guttural connection,a feeling of investment and perhaps even authorship. While models might be seen as the most rational of all forms of architectural communication(simply,a building in miniature or a detail at full scale),they hardly seem to belong to a rationalized system.Unlike drawing,where the language of projections,the surreal flatness of the elevation,and the concept of the section are separations from reality that must be learned in order to be understood,the model does not require abstract methodologies for its comprehension.It is intuitive and liberated from over-rationalization,comprehended by the senses before it is interpreted by the brain.Models,it has been said,are real,and for this reason they communicate so well to so many.'This is why clients take such delight in them,why they convey the sense of a project even when
9 Having kindly given over their basement for so many years to the storage of the paper, wood, acrylic, plaster, and metal remnants of my education as a young architect, a few years ago my parents suggested that I take a look at my old models to see if any of them could “go.” I had no hesitation about throwing the models away: most of them had been photographed, I was already in graduate school, and disposing of them would be, I thought, cathartic. No longer proud of that early, naive work that had at first given me such delight, I was glad to see it go, now fully invested in digital modeling. I brought the models out to the curb and piled them up for garbage collection. After a night of heavy rain, a mess of wet cardboard and rusty metal was all that was left the next morning. What were the previous day useless objects taking up space, embarrassing reminders of work I no longer liked, had now been melted by the onslaught of weather. The cardboard slumped, twisted, and bowed, the soft woods curved and delaminated, paints peeled, and plaster crumbled. I was amazed not only by what I saw—I had thought these to be heartier objects—but also by my complex, conflicted emotions regarding these rejected works: it made me sad, disappointed, regretful to see them in such a state. Of course, this destruction would have occurred regardless of the weather, but seeing that melted pile has, for me, made all the difference: it made me realize the intrinsic quality of models that I believe to be so important, and that is their ability to elicit emotion. While my regret was undoubtedly related to some remaining investment in my own work, it points to a larger truth: that, nearly always, designers, clients, or others who encounter and interact with models form a connection with them. A physical model is the material embodiment of an idea, and therein lies its magic. By becoming real, it gives life and actuality to an idea in a way that two-dimensional expressions rarely can. While a drawing might prefer, for example, a specific angle of view, the model often has no such luxury. With its three-dimensionality, its reaction to light and materiality, a model is perceived in innumerable and unpredictable ways. The viewer’s active role—the onus to construct view, to place one’s eye and hand on the object, and take in its space, details, shape, or texture—allows for an emotional relationship, a guttural connection, a feeling of investment and perhaps even authorship. While models might be seen as the most rational of all forms of architectural communication (simply, a building in miniature or a detail at full scale), they hardly seem to belong to a rationalized system. Unlike drawing, where the language of projections, the surreal flatness of the elevation, and the concept of the section are separations from reality that must be learned in order to be understood, the model does not require abstract methodologies for its comprehension. It is intuitive and liberated from over-rationalization, comprehended by the senses before it is interpreted by the brain. Models, it has been said, are real, and for this reason they communicate so well to so many.1 This is why clients take such delight in them, why they convey the sense of a project even when Foreword Emily Abruzzo
10 drawings do not.This is why they are often the denouement of architects' presentations,and why students take such pride in them. My first job,building models by hand for Peter Eisenman,began a trajectory with model making that is somewhat of a shared experience for architects of my generation.I was a crack model maker at the end of that summer,but quickly put aside these skills as I entered graduate school and spent more time computer modeling than making actual things. Over the course of the next few years,model making became scarce in my learning and work:even though I discarded very little after that eye- opening purge,only a few student models remain. Of late,however,model making has experienced a kind of reverse bell curve.Once a mandatory part of the design process,it saw a rapid decline as computer modeling-though arguably a two-dimensional form of representation-came to replace physical models.But as quickly as we saw this decline,we have seen a reinvestment in making.While we are indeed more reliant on the computer than ever,this reversal is a result of the increasing ease of translating information created with the computer to reality through the use of digital fabrication techniques. As modeling and fabrication come closer together,more models are being made,and,despite less hand production,the process might be more engaging than ever.Rapid prototyping technologies short- circuit the design process:the model is no longer necessarily referential, and its role more often now better described by the term prototype. Even when not working at full scale,it seems useful that the tools that make the model could be the ones used for the final object,piece, or pattern. But better yet,as these new tools allow fast and accurate iterative production with ease,our emotions take an active role in the design process,helping to guide,along with objective information,each successive iteration.Models elicit gut reactions-you know what is right when you see it in front of you-and this reaction,or emotion,should be the most important tool used by every designer.The structural engineer Cecil Balmond has spoken about using intuition in design-the idea that as you learn,see,feel,and try,you develop a kind of internal sounding board that informs that gut reaction.?Models,especially when they come in greater numbers,are a useful design tool in that sense.While it is true that they can be very communicative to an audience-eliciting dreams,giving sensation,and engendering pleasure-they can speak volumes to the designer as well,if only he or she allows for the emotional. In Scott Hicks's documentary Glass:A Portrait of Philip in Twelve Parts(2007),Philip Glass speaks about the difference between writing and hearing his symphonies.In writing,one must imagine how an entire orchestra will sound when playing the piece,and so the live performance is always revealing of something unexpected,even for an experienced composer like Glass. In architecture,especially given contemporary technologies,we have the opportunity to test our compositions,to train our ear,as it were
10 drawings do not. This is why they are often the denouement of architects’ presentations, and why students take such pride in them. My first job, building models by hand for Peter Eisenman, began a trajectory with model making that is somewhat of a shared experience for architects of my generation. I was a crack model maker at the end of that summer, but quickly put aside these skills as I entered graduate school and spent more time computer modeling than making actual things. Over the course of the next few years, model making became scarce in my learning and work: even though I discarded very little after that eyeopening purge, only a few student models remain. Of late, however, model making has experienced a kind of reverse bell curve. Once a mandatory part of the design process, it saw a rapid decline as computer modeling—though arguably a two-dimensional form of representation—came to replace physical models. But as quickly as we saw this decline, we have seen a reinvestment in making. While we are indeed more reliant on the computer than ever, this reversal is a result of the increasing ease of translating information created with the computer to reality through the use of digital fabrication techniques. As modeling and fabrication come closer together, more models are being made, and, despite less hand production, the process might be more engaging than ever. Rapid prototyping technologies shortcircuit the design process: the model is no longer necessarily referential, and its role more often now better described by the term prototype. Even when not working at full scale, it seems useful that the tools that make the model could be the ones used for the final object, piece, or pattern. But better yet, as these new tools allow fast and accurate iterative production with ease, our emotions take an active role in the design process, helping to guide, along with objective information, each successive iteration. Models elicit gut reactions—you know what is right when you see it in front of you—and this reaction, or emotion, should be the most important tool used by every designer. The structural engineer Cecil Balmond has spoken about using intuition in design—the idea that as you learn, see, feel, and try, you develop a kind of internal sounding board that informs that gut reaction.2 Models, especially when they come in greater numbers, are a useful design tool in that sense. While it is true that they can be very communicative to an audience—eliciting dreams, giving sensation, and engendering pleasure—they can speak volumes to the designer as well, if only he or she allows for the emotional. In Scott Hicks’s documentary Glass: A Portrait of Philip in Twelve Parts (2007), Philip Glass speaks about the difference between writing and hearing his symphonies. In writing, one must imagine how an entire orchestra will sound when playing the piece, and so the live performance is always revealing of something unexpected, even for an experienced composer like Glass. In architecture, especially given contemporary technologies, we have the opportunity to test our compositions, to train our ear, as it were
11 With typical drawing or computer modeling,your brain must interpolate that third dimension so critical to form,space,and the je ne sais quoi that makes design sing.But with rapid prototyping,we have the ability to make actual material objects,to full scale even,that approach the designer's equivalent of the full orchestra. Like the symphony played live,the model,as an actual object in three dimensions,becomes an autonomous thing that one can hear,feel,or see for what it is.Freed from the work of having to invent a missing orchestra, or dimension,the brain is allowed to observe,analyze,and project. What do I see,is it successful,and,perhaps most importantly,how does it make me feel? Notes 1 Olafur Eliasson,"Models are Real,"in Mode/s,306090 11,ed.Emily Abruzzo and Jonathan Solomon(New York:306090 Books,2007). 2 Cecil Balmond and Eric Ellingsen,"Survival Patterns,"in Models,306090 11, ed.Emily Abruzzo and Jonathan Solomon(New York:306090 Books,2007)
11 With typical drawing or computer modeling, your brain must interpolate that third dimension so critical to form, space, and the je ne sais quoi that makes design sing. But with rapid prototyping, we have the ability to make actual material objects, to full scale even, that approach the designer’s equivalent of the full orchestra. Like the symphony played live, the model, as an actual object in three dimensions, becomes an autonomous thing that one can hear, feel, or see for what it is. Freed from the work of having to invent a missing orchestra, or dimension, the brain is allowed to observe, analyze, and project. What do I see, is it successful, and, perhaps most importantly, how does it make me feel? Notes 1 Olafur Eliasson, “Models are Real,” in Models, 306090 11, ed. Emily Abruzzo and Jonathan Solomon (New York: 306090 Books, 2007). 2 Cecil Balmond and Eric Ellingsen, “Survival Patterns,” in Models, 306090 11, ed. Emily Abruzzo and Jonathan Solomon (New York: 306090 Books, 2007)
12 Preface Why build a model out of wood,acrylic,or metal,when you can render it digitally with remarkable realism?What is there to be gained from this ancient craft?In this book I hope to give readers not only a better understanding of the value of models-for the designer,the designer's audience,and model makers themselves-but to inspire in them a passion for the physical and intellectual pleasures of the craft,a love of making While many architecture students and young practitioners know models mainly as a challenging and time-consuming task to be fulfilled after the design process is completed,models are in fact first and foremost a means for investigation,for carrying an idea forward.As such,physical models are a uniquely revealing and compelling tool.More forcefully than any other way of visualizing a building-apart from its actual construction-models represent ideas,as opposed to images.Embedded in the model is the concept of the design,which the model translates into matter and time.And each of these worlds-the material and the temporal- imposes itself on the designer's investigation.Physical models make the invisible visible:the rules that apply to matter and time become evident to the model maker and thus become filters for his or her design explorations. Suddenly,the designer is faced with both the limitations of the material and its opportunities in the real world. Imagine,for example,exploring an idea about a cylindrical building element.As long as you are merely thinking about or drawing it,it is simply a geometrical form.Once you build it in physical space,however,it must be a rubber cylinder,a tiny cylinder,a rigid cylinder,an opaque cylinder, a smooth cylinder,or a rough one.In other words,you have to commit to many other qualities beyond the geometry. And yet,while requiring such decisions,the model does not demand particular ones,allowing for exploration.However tangible,it is not the building itself.It maintains a degree of abstraction that affords you the freedom to entertain and explore various options.You are not restricted to a particular process for a particular outcome.If you're interested in achieving translucency,for example,you can begin by investigating that quality through the selection of a material,a specific tool,a particular modeling technique,an applied technology,or any combination thereof. Similarly,if you are composing a building's surface in a particular pattern,coupling that pattern with a material and making it three- dimensional leaves you with many important questions.How deep is the pattern?How is it distinguished from the field on which it appears? Is the pattern a reveal or is it part of a three-dimensional element?A conversation begins between the model and the concept,demanding that you deepen your original idea,that you fill it out. Time has an impact as well,but it comes with more opportunities than constraints.While two-dimensional renderings and drawings force you to compile a totality out of discrete images,models allow a real-time view of your idea within one visual frame.The model helps you locate yourself in space.You are active in time around the object,and you can dissect it in time.Model making also lengthens time.While you are making something
Why build a model out of wood, acrylic, or metal, when you can render it digitally with remarkable realism? What is there to be gained from this ancient craft? In this book I hope to give readers not only a better understanding of the value of models—for the designer, the designer’s audience, and model makers themselves—but to inspire in them a passion for the physical and intellectual pleasures of the craft, a love of making. While many architecture students and young practitioners know models mainly as a challenging and time-consuming task to be fulfilled after the design process is completed, models are in fact first and foremost a means for investigation, for carrying an idea forward. As such, physical models are a uniquely revealing and compelling tool. More forcefully than any other way of visualizing a building—apart from its actual construction—models represent ideas, as opposed to images. Embedded in the model is the concept of the design, which the model translates into matter and time. And each of these worlds—the material and the temporal— imposes itself on the designer’s investigation. Physical models make the invisible visible: the rules that apply to matter and time become evident to the model maker and thus become filters for his or her design explorations. Suddenly, the designer is faced with both the limitations of the material and its opportunities in the real world. Imagine, for example, exploring an idea about a cylindrical building element. As long as you are merely thinking about or drawing it, it is simply a geometrical form. Once you build it in physical space, however, it must be a rubber cylinder, a tiny cylinder, a rigid cylinder, an opaque cylinder, a smooth cylinder, or a rough one. In other words, you have to commit to many other qualities beyond the geometry. And yet, while requiring such decisions, the model does not demand particular ones, allowing for exploration. However tangible, it is not the building itself. It maintains a degree of abstraction that affords you the freedom to entertain and explore various options. You are not restricted to a particular process for a particular outcome. If you’re interested in achieving translucency, for example, you can begin by investigating that quality through the selection of a material, a specific tool, a particular modeling technique, an applied technology, or any combination thereof. Similarly, if you are composing a building’s surface in a particular pattern, coupling that pattern with a material and making it threedimensional leaves you with many important questions. How deep is the pattern? How is it distinguished from the field on which it appears? Is the pattern a reveal or is it part of a three-dimensional element? A conversation begins between the model and the concept, demanding that you deepen your original idea, that you fill it out. Time has an impact as well, but it comes with more opportunities than constraints. While two-dimensional renderings and drawings force you to compile a totality out of discrete images, models allow a real-time view of your idea within one visual frame. The model helps you locate yourself in space. You are active in time around the object, and you can dissect it in time. Model making also lengthens time. While you are making something, Preface 12
13 you are in process mode,and your ideas have time to develop,moving between the brain,eye,and hand.Once you start building the model, other ideas will begin to flow,and you will find inspiration as you become comfortable translating design concepts into three dimensions. This book will help the reader take the leap to fully integrate model making into your design process.The following pages present thirty-three concept blocks whose abstract nature and isolated conditions allow the reader to learn about various ways to investigate his or her own design ideas in three dimensions.The simple distilled form of each block isolates one or more modes of physical investigation,taking the complexity out of the making process and amplifying specific aspects or conditions of conceptual and representational design ideas.Each block is described in seven categories,including material,tools,tips and techniques, applied technologies and alternate methods,architectural concepts, a related existing model,and suggested alternatives.These categories are expanded in the corresponding appendices following the concept blocks.Here you will find supplemental information about materials,tools, and applied technologies,as well as a glossary of design concepts and additional tips and techniques. Readers can peruse the book in whatever order they find most useful. They might want to flip through the concept blocks looking for inspiration, or read the appendices for information.Above all,I hope the book will encourage the reader to explore the many possibilities model making can bring to the art of design
13 you are in process mode, and your ideas have time to develop, moving between the brain, eye, and hand. Once you start building the model, other ideas will begin to flow, and you will find inspiration as you become comfortable translating design concepts into three dimensions. This book will help the reader take the leap to fully integrate model making into your design process. The following pages present thirty-three concept blocks whose abstract nature and isolated conditions allow the reader to learn about various ways to investigate his or her own design ideas in three dimensions. The simple distilled form of each block isolates one or more modes of physical investigation, taking the complexity out of the making process and amplifying specific aspects or conditions of conceptual and representational design ideas. Each block is described in seven categories, including material, tools, tips and techniques, applied technologies and alternate methods, architectural concepts, a related existing model, and suggested alternatives. These categories are expanded in the corresponding appendices following the concept blocks. Here you will find supplemental information about materials, tools, and applied technologies, as well as a glossary of design concepts and additional tips and techniques. Readers can peruse the book in whatever order they find most useful. They might want to flip through the concept blocks looking for inspiration, or read the appendices for information. Above all, I hope the book will encourage the reader to explore the many possibilities model making can bring to the art of design
14 Acknowledgments Model making is at its core a collaboration.Similarly,this book is a group effort,greatly enriched by the contributions of people within my community who I have worked with and learned from over the past three decades. The ideas presented in this book emanate from my life's involvement in architecture and design,starting with my education at Virginia Tech,which evolved into my business,zDp models,and my teaching position in design at California College of the Arts(CCA). Thank you to the College of Architecture and Urban Studies at Virginia Tech and to my professors and mentors there:Lucie and Olivio Ferrari, Gene Egger,Hans Rott,and Ellen Braaten,who taught me to see the world through a making lens.I would also like to thank CCA for supporting the book with a faculty development grant and my students at CCA,who provide me with constant inspiration.I am also continually stimulated by the creative community in the building where my shop is located,the American Industrial Center,home to many creative minds. I especially want to thank Clare Jacobson,formerly of Princeton Architectural Press,for so enthusiastically responding to an AlA lecture on craft and technology I gave in San Francisco in 2009 and approaching me to write this volume.Clare's immediate understanding of the concept and structure for the book was instrumental in getting it off the ground. Additionally.I would like to thank my editor,Nicola Bednarek Brower,for taking the book on and guiding it to its completion. I am grateful to Emily Abruzzo for writing the preface,framing the emotional side of model making. I would also like to recognize Dina Dobkin for assisting with the coordination and production of the manuscript.Dina also generated the instructional illustrations accompanying the Tips Techniques.Brian Fong ably assisted in the production and postproduction of the photographs and illustrations.Thank you to Joanna Howser for jumping in toward the end to edit the text. Thank you to the crew at zDp models,Eric Paulson,Ania Wagner,and Tudlik Moerk,for your invaluable help.Thanks also to Tim Culvahouse for translating my ideas into prose and Gerry Ratto,whom I have had the pleasure of working with for over a decade,for translating my ideas into images.I would like to acknowledge Kyle McDonald and Sarah Cohen for introducing graphic clarity to the initial book proposal. I am grateful to Charlie Sheldon and Link Studios for allowing us to use their space for photography. I would like to thank my parents,Tom and Jan Werner,and my sisters, Ann and Gail,for their support and love in all my creative endeavors. Last but not least,I would like to thank my husband,Matthew Millman, not only for taking most of the beautiful photographs in this book but also for supporting me throughout the entire process
14 Model making is at its core a collaboration. Similarly, this book is a group effort, greatly enriched by the contributions of people within my community who I have worked with and learned from over the past three decades. The ideas presented in this book emanate from my life’s involvement in architecture and design, starting with my education at Virginia Tech, which evolved into my business, zDp models, and my teaching position in design at California College of the Arts (CCA). Thank you to the College of Architecture and Urban Studies at Virginia Tech and to my professors and mentors there: Lucie and Olivio Ferrari, Gene Egger, Hans Rott, and Ellen Braaten, who taught me to see the world through a making lens. I would also like to thank CCA for supporting the book with a faculty development grant and my students at CCA, who provide me with constant inspiration. I am also continually stimulated by the creative community in the building where my shop is located, the American Industrial Center, home to many creative minds. I especially want to thank Clare Jacobson, formerly of Princeton Architectural Press, for so enthusiastically responding to an AIA lecture on craft and technology I gave in San Francisco in 2009 and approaching me to write this volume. Clare’s immediate understanding of the concept and structure for the book was instrumental in getting it off the ground. Additionally, I would like to thank my editor, Nicola Bednarek Brower, for taking the book on and guiding it to its completion. I am grateful to Emily Abruzzo for writing the preface, framing the emotional side of model making. I would also like to recognize Dina Dobkin for assisting with the coordination and production of the manuscript. Dina also generated the instructional illustrations accompanying the Tips & Techniques. Brian Fong ably assisted in the production and postproduction of the photographs and illustrations. Thank you to Joanna Howser for jumping in toward the end to edit the text. Thank you to the crew at zDp models, Eric Paulson, Ania Wagner, and Tudlik Moerk, for your invaluable help. Thanks also to Tim Culvahouse for translating my ideas into prose and Gerry Ratto, whom I have had the pleasure of working with for over a decade, for translating my ideas into images. I would like to acknowledge Kyle McDonald and Sarah Cohen for introducing graphic clarity to the initial book proposal. I am grateful to Charlie Sheldon and Link Studios for allowing us to use their space for photography. I would like to thank my parents, Tom and Jan Werner, and my sisters, Ann and Gail, for their support and love in all my creative endeavors. Last but not least, I would like to thank my husband, Matthew Millman, not only for taking most of the beautiful photographs in this book but also for supporting me throughout the entire process. Acknowledgments
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Concept Blocks
Concept Blocks