Airport Experiences

I will be heading to Portland this week, so another couple of days of travel for me.  This will provide me with some added insight to the guest experience of airports...  today I am considering the comprehensive process of flying somewhere.  From leaving your home or office to arrival in your destination city. 

I believe that a few of the tasks required for air travel are major sources of psychological and/or physical stress.  Those include heading to the airport; making sure your bags meet regulations (for weight and contents); making sure you are in the correct line for security; undressing/rearranging everything on the conveyor belt; reassembling all of your belongings and redressing.  For some people, it is physically challenging to perform these tasks.  For others it is unnerving due to their country of origin.  For others it is so routine that they occasionally gloss over a step and have to submit to additional searches. 

Is it ever NOT stressful to travel by air?  Even if a person likes traveling, there is still a higher stress level for them on a travel day than on a non-travel day.  There are more things to track on travel days and therefore more things to potentially lose track of. 

Our BAC Intensive experiences are an example of one travel extreme - 10 days away from home, with large quantities of clothing and art supplies and books that we need to bring along.  I had two bags (one huge) and a large briefcase.  My trips to Chicago for work tend to be one day in and out which are the other extreme - no suitcase at all; it's like a workday commute. 

This week I will be considering the process, tasks and where the environment could be altered to lessen the stress of the passengers.  The security line is an in-between space with a definite function and set of spatial requirements.  How can we (as architects) make people happy (or at least less unhappy) while they are in that line? 

Transition and Connection

Today, I have been out photographing what was originally supposed to be the "in-between" and at some point during the day I found that transition and connection fascinate me most.  There can very well not BE an in-between space, but simply a threshold that links the inside to the outside, or a window that visually connects the occupant from one side to the other.  Those types of transitions can be as successful as a formal vestibule or terraced deck. 

I found spaces that were transitional but completely outside (Brower Hatcher's Prophecy of the Ancients)
...and a space that seemed to transition from inside to outside, but it was really an illusion (Chris Larson's Unnamed - wood structure).

I even found an igloo.  VERY outside, but there is a definite threshold and shelter which give it an inside.

When you think about it, the spaces that I labelled as "in-between" in yesterday's post are mostly transitional spaces, or have a link or connection from inside to outside.  Some transitions are successful and some not as much.  What I am beginning to explore is what makes a transition successful.

in-BETWEENS

Thoughts on the In-Between

Last week in Boston, I came upon a potential Thesis topic of inside/outside and the in-between spaces.  Since I have been an architect for over 20 years, I have had a lot of opportunity to work on the insides of buildings.  Especially with my role at HGA of interior architect and my current work at Target on developer shell projects.  I have always been fascinated with how the landscape touches a building (or vice-versa) and yet I have not had much experience with designing those connections or adjacencies.  I am also intrigued by the way a thoughtfully designed landscape can touch our senses – sight, smell, touch, hearing, taste.  The colors, textures, sounds of the branches blowing in the wind all can be carefully planned to create a certain sense of environment. 

Living in Minnesota, the ground can be snow-covered for 6 months of the year on average.  That means that these in-between spaces can be fascinating half of the year and disregarded, anonymous spaces the other half.

When books discuss these inside/outside connections they typically reference buildings in southern or temperate climates.  I want to consider what it would take for an exterior space to remain successful year-round in a northern climate.  This does not necessarily mean that I want to see people inhabiting the spaces at 20 below zero, but rather that the spaces are pleasing to view and create a visual interest during the “off-season” that would otherwise be lost or ignored.

When we moved up here from central Illinois 22 years ago, it did not take long to realize we lost about 8 weeks of warm weather compared to Urbana.  We bought and moved into our house without having any sense of what was below the 2 feet of snow-covered earth.  Our house was painted white with black trim, and virtually disappeared into the landscape.  As soon as it was warm enough, we added some color to the house by painting it warm grey with forest green and plum trim (very vogue in 1989!).  Everyone was impressed with our colorful house; people would stop by to congratulate us on the work we were doing.  It eventually inspired some of our neighbors to paint their white (translated: boring) houses as well.  In winters, our neighborhood was a little more lively and fun than the neighborhoods surrounding us because of this simple shift in the aesthetic norm. 

"old house" with pruprle and green trim

"new house" with front proch added to flat facade

backyard of "new house" - a clean slate with in-between potential

writing after Boston's intensive

The intensive was surprisingly intense.  Thinking about the in-between is very grey for me in my black and white world.  I'm trying to be comfortable in the greyness.  It takes a lot of energy at first, but I believe it will become more energizing as I continue down the in-between path.

I have been thinking about the space in-between and I'm off on another trip tomorrow - one day to Chicago and back.  Airplanes are very in-between. A one-hour flight and I'll be in Chicago... another one-hour flight and I'll be back home.

The El train is pretty in-between.  Taking the orange line from midway to the project site.  The project is an existing building in-between tenants. 

[look for some imagery in my next post.]

back to curious.

Wanting to complete the exploration of the Walker Art Center's plan, I have overlaid an image with an example of the meandering path.  There are three entries (parking garage, Hennepin and sculpture garden), but no matter which entry you enter into, you can meander around the museum almost never retracing your steps.

Prior to the addition, the plan was a basic rectangle (on the right side) and circulation was mostly vertical with stacked galleries above the auditorium space.  In the original building, stairs are used to circulate around the elevator core, so the galleries step up in pinwheel fashion.    

Commodity, Firmness and Delight.

(01-13-11:  added title, due to lack thereof.)

Good ideas in architecture are solid, problem-solving ideas.  As simple as a stair that gets you from one level to another or a door that gives you access into another space.  For these elements to be “great”, they would need to be awe-inspiring.  A stair that was intricately detailed or built with fine craftsmanship, like the projects that Peter Zumthor wrote about in his “Thinking Architecture” essay:  p.10 “… the precise and sensuous way they use materials.” or p. 14”… the quality of the finished object is determined by the quality of the joins.”  

Conceptual ideas in architecture would take the idea of stair or doorway and turn it upside-down (in the viewer’s perspective, not literally).  Just the element on its own would be inspiring.  

• A lovely, beautiful stair that elevates you up - functioning like an escalator, but elegant and well-crafted rather than industrial.  Maybe it goes slowly enough to experience fully a special view, or certain types of music are played at different times of the day as you ride up on this mechanism. 
• A door or window that is transparent, translucent or opaque at any given time.  You could program it to be transparent during the day and become opaque at night for privacy and safety.  It could be different colors, internally illuminated, kaleidoscope pattern, etc., etc.  It could change as your taste changed or when you got bored.  

 Conceptual ideas push the boundaries of what is commercially available to what is only yet conceivable – inventions – the integration of brainstorm ideas with functional needs. 
 

A good concept in architecture is a space or building that is first and foremost solidly functioning for its intended purpose, but secondly, it affects you on a profound level.  It could be that it is so well-crafted that people need to look closer at the details to understand how it works together.  It creates a stir and causes intrigue and interest beyond the space itself – visitors wonder why it was done the way it does or how it works or just feel better when they are there.  It could be that you so brilliantly solved the design problem that the space is simply sublime, and there is no more perfect solution - a la Vitruvius’ “commodity, firmness and delight”.   

Architecture that makes me curious…

Museums make me curious.   

So that must therefore mean the concept of a museum 

(to get people to come visit because they are curious about whatever is inside of it) 

works for me.   

One type of museum specifically makes me curious

- art museums.   

...art museums that lead you on a meandering path from which you never seem to backtrack -  you are always moving forward and yet you end up right back at the lobby where you started.  It’s intriguing.  

The Walker Art Center in Minneapolis is planned that way.  I love how you meander from room to room and each room has a different feel and different genre of art.  Somehow you know to keep walking in a certain direction – the next space draws you in so clearly that it feels strange to even backtrack enough  to catch the other side of a room.  

The exterior of the building in this case also makes a lot of people curious.  Is it an "ICE CUBE" or a "ROBOT MONKEY"?  or both?

Planes, Trains, Automobiles and Work Spaces

Many of us have been writing about our workspaces, commutes and living spaces this week.   We have written about how what we do as architects impacts the lives of others.  We have written about how the space we exist within and our views outward from those spaces impact our feelings, work productivity and the perceptions of others.  Some spaces we get to select for ourselves (our homes); some places we have limited choice with some influence (our workplace) and some places, we get what we get with very little influence (shopping center, church, school, hotel, airport, plane, bus, train).  The joy comes from experiencing them all!  

First Class View

How can we make a First Class experience enjoyable?  Voyeurism with hidden cameras [for people watching], total redesign [for personal comfort] and upgraded sanitation practices [obvious reasons] will all lead to a more entertaining and satisfying experience in First Class for me.  The airline industry keeps on trying to reinvent itself, yet with regulations, restrictions, the economy it will take a long time for airlines to start renovating their planes and moving out of the status quo. 

Chicago

It is invigorating to visit a metropolis once in a while.  Some would consider Minneapolis a big city, but compared to Chicago (with 3 million residents and 8 million in the region), Minneapolis is a “town” (of 350,000 people with 3 million in the region).  We have public transportation options in Minneapolis, but not conveniently located from my first-ring suburb of Golden Valley.  So I drive to work and drive home and wait at intersections through 5 cycles sometimes to get home.  Staying late has the advantage of a 15-20 minute commute, but if I leave at 5PM, it can take twice as long.  Metropolises, on the other hand, typically have conveniently located mass transit options that can take you from a major airport to just about anywhere in the city and a little beyond.  (Although I do find it a bit inconvenient that La Guardia airport in New York is not accessible to Manhattan by train). 

For this trip to Chicago, I actually arrived by car from Madison, Wisconsin.  The most notable component of the ride was the lack of snow as I drove south.  The alternative would have been a flight to Atlanta as a connection to Chicago.  Ingenious!  

Down to Earth

Coming back home, and reflecting on all of the different places I slept, sat, worked, dined, walked during the week affirmed that I actually like to be here.   Our house has a nice plan layout and a feeling of warm, cozy comfort.   I like to drive my own car and work in my cluttery space and even the greyness and beigy-ness are okay as long as there is an occasional splash of red.   Did I mention that I love the color red?  

Down to Earth Again

Back in the office today, I started to consider all of the different  environments I have been working in this week – airplanes, airports, cars, hotels, various offices, a training room at the new Madison Target, a restaurant, and then my studio/office at home and my actual office @ Target Headquarters.  It’s amazing how adaptable we can be in temporary situations. 

Regarding my workspace at Target, you probably imagine an office with lots of red and fun spaces, but our desks are grey and beige cubicles and the office decor is mostly white on beige on grey with a splash of red here and there. 

My workspace at home, in contrast,  is pretty fun and bright – we have not quite finished the remodel started last summer, but it is close to done.  We turned our spare bedroom into a studio space so I did not have to cut pieces for models on the bed anymore.  The room is pretty well organized, but I have some clutter around which I guess makes it feel more like a studio space. 

At work, I have a lot of projects, which tend to fill up my workstation with piles of project files… one of my co-workers asked if we had a lot of stuff in our house, too, based on what he saw at my desk.  But we keep our house pretty neat and tidy.  It started when my husband was running his firm out of our house 16 years ago – we needed to always be presentable if a client stopped by.  Clean and neat  was taken to the extreme when we were trying to sell our old house 5 years ago – it felt like we lived in a museum/hotel. 

Workspace (and living space) can have a profound impact on behavior – I wanted to become a psychologist before I decided to study architecture and I have always had an interest in behavior and environment.  My cluttery room at home feels creative and liberating.  My cluttery desk at work feels limiting and constricting.  I should try to figure out how to make my workspace feel more like my studio space.  It might even be easy.

 my cluttery work-surface!

my not so cluttery desk.  My concrete poetry is showing! 

Chicago

There is one thing I love about my job - I love to travel and since I am from Chicago, and a bunch of my projects are located there right now, I actually get to go "home" (even though I was only working this trip, it is still home to me!) once in a while.

In Semester 1, we wrote often about our favorite city - guess which city I picked?  Then there is my all-time favorite building - the Hancock Tower on Michigan Avenue (above).  From the observation center at the 98th floor, you can actually see portions of four states - Illinois, Michigan, Indiana and Wisconsin.  Fascinating! 

Along State Street there are tons of historic and famous buildings - one of the standouts is the Sullivan Building (above), built over 100 years ago and recently renovated.  Louis really outdid himself.  The ironwork is exquisite and the rotunda is awe-inspiring.  Carson Pirie Scott moved out in 2007, and the department store floors have been empty now for almost four years. 

The Red Line subway runs right under State Street.  If you take it a few miles to the north, it comes out right next to the Target that opened on the north side @ Wilson Yard last summer.   For obvious reasons (think bullseye) I get a kick out of the fact that the Red Line leads to one of my projects.  By the time it gets up north, it is an elevated (or "el") train rather than a subway.  We have a 200+ foot long "spangleboard" billboard on the back.  When the trains breeze past, the spangles sparkle in the sun. 

I have traveled to New York relatively frequently over the past 5 years as well as to Chicago.  When I think about subways - in the US and in Paris (the only European city I have spent any time in), the entrances into the subterranean spaces are sometimes inviting and whimsical, but then you get down into the dirty, heavily scented spaces below ground.  Can you imagine if the actual subway passenger spaces were kept up more like an airport or even a public park space.  Would it still work?  Would it ruin the idea of public transportation for some and invite others to participate?

Consider the various back stories of typical subway riders.  There's the guy/girl who will only drink bottled water and stay in the fancy hotels and go to spas for hot stone massage treatments; and they are sitting next to a guy/girl who luckily found $1 on their way to the station so they did not have to panhandle for money to take the train home.  And then there are the people like us.  It's always fun to ride the subway or take the EL in Chicago and other cities - part of the draw is the amazing variety of people that you interact with along the way.

First Class View

So, I was bumped up to first class on my flight tonight – for 45 whole minutes in the air from Minneapolis to Madison.  In seat 1A – all by myself in the front of the plane.  My view out the window was clear and it was a beautiful (but very cold) day, but my focus was on my reading material.  The plane was relatively new, but my tray was in the pocket and it always seems a little creepy to pull it out of the arm rest – sort of sticky and not super sanitary.  I managed to get it out but when I put it back in, it banged and clanged really loudly.  I woke up a few people.  Sorry!

My view of the plane – beige walls, blue carpet, magazine holder stuck on the wall.  Maybe I’m the only person who doesn’t like to sit in row 1 – no place to put my carry-on bag.  So I stuck my belongings in a total of three overhead bins – coat in one, suitcase in another and briefcase in another.  Nothing to look at for entertainment. 

Everyone looks past the first class passengers as they get on the plane – like we are actually from a different class than them and they should avert their eyes.  Or maybe they wish they got to get on the plane first like we did.  One little girl kept telling her Mommy – “that lady is in row ONE and she smiled at me”.  She walked by and was very excited that I said hello.  Her mom never looked down as she hurried toward their seats.

Some airlines don’t have first class seats – that’s kind of nice in a very diplomatic way, however the airlines can make more money by making some of their seats special.  So why not?  What if restaurants had special seating areas?  Maybe a special view or a quiet corner or better service.  What if malls had special shopping areas?  Macy’s has their special clothing area – “The Oval Room” or something like that.  You can get better service when you spend so much money on your clothes.  You can pay a personal shopper or a stylist to help you select the clothes that are right for you.  So why not have First Class airline seats? 

I’m in the minority when I say put me in Row 10 and give me a window seat on any flight under 3 hours and an aisle otherwise.  But I like to people watch and you can’t do it from Row 1.