Friday, August 29, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
8.27.08 How’d we get here?
I was stunned several years ago when an architect said, "Before I met you guys I thought timber framing was just another tacky type of kit-building." His statement shocked me into recognizing that what was self-evident to me—that timber frame homes were inherently wonderful—was not so to others. I owe him a beer. That comment has stuck with me like no other. It has nagged me and shaped the direction of our company more than any single utterance before or since.
He was wrong, of course. In the long and distinguished history of timber framing, many compelling buildings result. If you’re bit by the wood bug, these buildings grip you deeply. They have become emblematic of skill and craft. They are usually well-loved and protected by owners and cultures. Wood and humans seem to be made for each other. With a few basic tools and a bit of knowledge our ancestors could fashion rudimentary shelter. With a bit more refinement of tool, technique and knowledge, long-lasting buildings and traditions of craft grew, and so, a couple thousand years later, we still build with timbers.
Like many of my colleagues, I came to the culture of craft and wooden buildings via timber framing during the craft renaissance of the late 70's and early 80's. In those heady days aspiring craftspeople examined pre-twentieth century timber buildings, re-learning the joinery methods and the skills of craftsmen who created the enduring structures. Arguably, this period of discovery culminated in 1985 with the founding of the Timber Framers Guild. With the Guild serving as a commons the number of craft-based parishioners quickly grew.
It was and is powerful work. An encounter with craft will benefit anyone. Learning to transform raw materials into something of use is not only a deeply human experience but teaches self-awareness in a potent, concrete way. You simply can’t argue with the outcome; you can only accept your limitations, or learn the usually painful lesson of your inadequacy and resolve to improve. But for truly great buildings, skillful craft is not enough.
My architect friend was also reflecting something important about the state of the timber framing. Despite the successes over the last four decades, timber frame homes are burdened by stereotypes, largely perpetrated by parishioners themselves, which has created a marketplace full of clichés: houses too big, and too costly, often with uncomfortable, disproportionate spaces and homes that feature timber frames that are too dominant or in some cases, have no business in the room at all.
I believe that better work is not only possible, but is being done even if it is not well-represented in current practice. Like many things, timber frame homes have layers of meaning, and if we dig through the layers a bit, we can find the elements that are common to great timber buildings. The first and most obvious layer for timber frames is function. I’ve often heard that the first measure of quality is fitness for use. Fair enough. Fitness for use is relatively easy to achieve. The building industry is generally well-regulated, and most timber frames are thoroughly scrutinized. I’ll leave it to others to dissect and discuss the dynamics of function and the soundness of structure. I want to go deeper. I’m primarily interested in the aesthetics of our buildings and the experience of inhabiting them. How do they affect us physically and emotionally? Are they truly comfortable? What kinds of spaces are most used? And what role does the timber structure play in the success of those spaces?
Admittedly, aesthetics are ultimately personal and they change over time, so any discussion can only be a snapshot. But I can share my experience and what I see when I look at timber buildings. There are many pathways to delight!
Great buildings are a three-way collaboration between designer, builder and customer, and there is an undeniable tension between the parties. A good friend once observed that designers and builders can never get along, even if they are the same person. If you have ever built something that you have designed, you know that it’s true—the dialog between builder and designer is constant and occasionally profane! But we all learn from each other. Crafters need to learn to appreciate innovation and vision of designers and designers need to appreciate the discipline and depth of craft tradition. Both need to more sincerely appreciate the profound faith that customers must have to undertake a custom design and construction project. I also want to challenge customers to demand more from the professionals, but also to trust more in their experience and ability to create. I know that when all three parties are well-served, the results are can be astonishing.
I was stunned several years ago when an architect said, "Before I met you guys I thought timber framing was just another tacky type of kit-building." His statement shocked me into recognizing that what was self-evident to me—that timber frame homes were inherently wonderful—was not so to others. I owe him a beer. That comment has stuck with me like no other. It has nagged me and shaped the direction of our company more than any single utterance before or since.
He was wrong, of course. In the long and distinguished history of timber framing, many compelling buildings result. If you’re bit by the wood bug, these buildings grip you deeply. They have become emblematic of skill and craft. They are usually well-loved and protected by owners and cultures. Wood and humans seem to be made for each other. With a few basic tools and a bit of knowledge our ancestors could fashion rudimentary shelter. With a bit more refinement of tool, technique and knowledge, long-lasting buildings and traditions of craft grew, and so, a couple thousand years later, we still build with timbers.
Like many of my colleagues, I came to the culture of craft and wooden buildings via timber framing during the craft renaissance of the late 70's and early 80's. In those heady days aspiring craftspeople examined pre-twentieth century timber buildings, re-learning the joinery methods and the skills of craftsmen who created the enduring structures. Arguably, this period of discovery culminated in 1985 with the founding of the Timber Framers Guild. With the Guild serving as a commons the number of craft-based parishioners quickly grew.
It was and is powerful work. An encounter with craft will benefit anyone. Learning to transform raw materials into something of use is not only a deeply human experience but teaches self-awareness in a potent, concrete way. You simply can’t argue with the outcome; you can only accept your limitations, or learn the usually painful lesson of your inadequacy and resolve to improve. But for truly great buildings, skillful craft is not enough.
My architect friend was also reflecting something important about the state of the timber framing. Despite the successes over the last four decades, timber frame homes are burdened by stereotypes, largely perpetrated by parishioners themselves, which has created a marketplace full of clichés: houses too big, and too costly, often with uncomfortable, disproportionate spaces and homes that feature timber frames that are too dominant or in some cases, have no business in the room at all.
I believe that better work is not only possible, but is being done even if it is not well-represented in current practice. Like many things, timber frame homes have layers of meaning, and if we dig through the layers a bit, we can find the elements that are common to great timber buildings. The first and most obvious layer for timber frames is function. I’ve often heard that the first measure of quality is fitness for use. Fair enough. Fitness for use is relatively easy to achieve. The building industry is generally well-regulated, and most timber frames are thoroughly scrutinized. I’ll leave it to others to dissect and discuss the dynamics of function and the soundness of structure. I want to go deeper. I’m primarily interested in the aesthetics of our buildings and the experience of inhabiting them. How do they affect us physically and emotionally? Are they truly comfortable? What kinds of spaces are most used? And what role does the timber structure play in the success of those spaces?
Admittedly, aesthetics are ultimately personal and they change over time, so any discussion can only be a snapshot. But I can share my experience and what I see when I look at timber buildings. There are many pathways to delight!
Great buildings are a three-way collaboration between designer, builder and customer, and there is an undeniable tension between the parties. A good friend once observed that designers and builders can never get along, even if they are the same person. If you have ever built something that you have designed, you know that it’s true—the dialog between builder and designer is constant and occasionally profane! But we all learn from each other. Crafters need to learn to appreciate innovation and vision of designers and designers need to appreciate the discipline and depth of craft tradition. Both need to more sincerely appreciate the profound faith that customers must have to undertake a custom design and construction project. I also want to challenge customers to demand more from the professionals, but also to trust more in their experience and ability to create. I know that when all three parties are well-served, the results are can be astonishing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)