by Thompson E. Penney, FAIA
For me, the highlight of this year’s convention in San Diego was
the Investiture Ceremony. Sixty-two gifted men and women were welcomed
as Fellows of The American Institute of Architects. The Investiture of
new Fellows is always rich with symbolism. Never more so than this year.
The ceremony took place outdoors in La Jolla at the magnificent Salk
Institute designed by AIA Gold Medal recipient Louis Kahn, FAIA. The complex
is a monument to Dr. Jonas Salk, the remarkable physician who banished
the scourge of polio. It is also a celebration of the transformational
advances made by medical science in the 20th century.
As an architect, my thoughts naturally migrated from the purpose of the
building to its design. Every architect knows the Salk Institute from
the extensive writings and photo documentation of this extraordinary project.
But pictures and words are a pale echo of the impact this building has
on the eye and the spirit. You really have to be there to drink in the
full measure of the design miracle that emerged out of the collaboration
between the matched geniuses of Jonas Salk and Louis Kahn.
Everywhere I looked I was reminded not only of the meticulous craftsmanship
and the brilliant marriage between the research facility and its site
overlooking the Pacific to the west, but also of the power of architecture
to enrich and elevate the human spirit. And, as my eyes searched out every
detail, I began to wonder: Just as the work of dedicated physicians transformed
the quality of life in the 20th century, might architects and design have
a similar transformational impact in the 21st century? Not only do I think
it’s possible, I believe that our profession may well be the leading
light of this century in working toward a better world.
The
mission of design
I have come to realize that the great work of design is not the solitary
pursuit of novelty. It is the creative engagement with human needs. As
an architect, you have to care about people and care deeply. You have
to believe people matter. That means caring for the children and the teachers
in the classrooms we design; caring for the elderly and sick in our hospitals
and nursing homes; and caring for the janitors, the plumbers, and window
washers who maintain the physical fabric.
We have an opportunity—unique in my professional life—to
reach out to make the connection in the public’s mind between their
growing hunger for value and what we architects actually do. We have an
opportunity not only to extol the poetry of our work—in other words,
the art that elevates the human spirit—we have an opportunity, no,
make that a responsibility to
offer proof about how design enriches human life.
Design—the product and
the process—is at the heart of how well we lead our lives and the
choices we make; it is at the soul of how faithfully we carry out our
role not to own the earth, but to be of it. Design is about discovery,
integration, application, and the sharing of knowledge about the consequences
of our work.
Such knowledge is called “predictive.” With it, we and our
clients will be able to predict the effects of our decisions. With such
knowledge we could design education into our schools, curing into our
hospitals, and dignity into our low-income housing.
The Academy of Neurosciences for Architecture
We began our exploration of the premise “Design Matters!”
at the convention by celebrating, appropriately, what our hearts know
about design: the beauty, the exhilaration, the wonder. But we went on
to acknowledge the need to have the research tools to measure the “proof”
of design objectively, that is, the impact architecture has on our physical,
mental, and spiritual well being.
And it was at the convention that the AIA and AIA San Diego unveiled
The Academy of Neurosciences for Architecture. The Academy will link neuroscience,
one of the newest frontiers of knowledge, with architecture, one of the
oldest disciplines of human civilization. It will study how people perceive
the built environment and why they respond in the ways they do. With this
information in hand, we will for the first time in our history have the
data to prove that design truly
matters.
In the 19th century, physicians were commonly regarded as little more
than quacks. Chances were that despite the best intentions of their physicians,
patients were likely to be worse for the experience. Knowledge gained
from the application of the scientific method transformed the profession.
The practice of medicine grew enormously in stature and influence. Indeed,
physical health is today deemed a fundamental human right.
Within our lives, I see a similar transformation of our profession and
a similar capacity to do good. Ours, after all, is not only the most public
of the arts, it is also a healing art, an art that protects the life,
safety, and welfare of the public. If what we design and build is a barometer
of the health of our society, there is clearly much work to be done.
Copyright 2003 The American Institute of Architects.
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