Today I have some fun drawings I discovered piled under the bed, along with a new drawing I made as a christmas gift.
A couple christmases ago my dad gave me a 400-piece Tiffany style stained glass lamp that he made about twenty-five years ago. I thought it would be fun to draw the lamp, and give him the drawing as a christmas present. Took about 12 hours, and I must say its the most difficult drawing I've made. I did it free hand, and in order to get the perspective right I had to constantly double-check my proportions by working between two reference points, and scaling the pieces to fill the space between the points. On many occasions I discovered that, to my dismay, the pieces were not filling the space properly. But with enough grunt work I managed to get an accurate representation of the lamp.
It was also fun to "interpret" the lamp by added emphasis to certain patterns over others, and try to bring depth to the flat surfaces, to make the peonies come back to life. I would like to eventually do an oil painting of the lamp-- but I've never painted anything, so I figured I would start with what I know. The flower in the vase beneath the lamp is, of course, a peony.
best,
Brett
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
BlackLight Power Poster

I recently finished this poster for work. Of the hundreds of figures I've done for BlackLight, this representation of the electron orbitsphere is my favorite. Not only is it beautiful, but it took a lot of work to create. My boss Randy Mills created the pattern, and I had the pleasure of being a kind of computational assistant. I used Mathematica to compute and display the results of the spin matricies that he created; there was a lot of back and forth, a lot of good times. Hundreds of figures were created before this one could be made. The goal was to create a pattern of great-circle loops that would result in a uniform distribution. I liken the pattern to spinning a coin and watching it slowly wobble to a stop.
Scientifically, it represents how the electron is moving around the nucleus in an atom. The electron is spread out over a spherical shell, and made up of an infinite number of loops. Here I approximated it with 144 loops, just enough to clearly see the structure.
best,
Brett
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Fall 2009 Studio Project
This term I had the pleasure of taking a studio from some people at IDC Architects. The assignment was to create a R&D and Pilot Manufacturing facility which included both lab spaces and office spaces. The purpose of the building was the development of chargers for portable electronics that utilized solar cells in combination with lithium ion batteries. The site chosen was in downtown Portland, on the PSU campus.
Here is an image of the building with the facade removed. You are looking at the office spaces. The floor plates have been staggered to create many double-height spaces that would allow you to grow 30 ft tall trees indoors. There are a few scientifically proven rules for spaces that enhance cognition-- high ceilings, natural light, and views to nature. To achieve this in an urban context I created places for tree canopy on a cascading series of green roofs. This reminds me of how trees can grow out of older and bigger trees, even 50 or 100 feet above ground, their roots following the tree down into the soil below.
Here is a rendered interior of the office space. I was able to find the view out the window using Google Earth, and then drop that view behind the glass from the rendering. The model was built in Google Sketchup and then exported to 3D Studio Max.If you look closely, you might notice some beautiful furniture... (see prior posts on the Cambrian chair)

Below is a section of the building showing the laboratory and manufacturing block on the left and the office spaces on the right. In a laboratories, I feel you want a very soft diffuse light in a very clean, simple space to offer no distractions from the exact tasks at hand. Wheras in the office spaces, you want complexity, dynamics, interest. Running through the middle of the building is a service and circulation core that shows all the piping that will serve all the needs of the laboratories, it is exposed and should be interesting to look at.

Some inspirational ideas for the design including a lot of study of how to use the tetrahedral structure of silicon, as a spatial and structural system. Silicon forms the basis of most of our current solar cell technology. Ultimately it ended up in the facade as a way to tell the world what the building was about.
And since mimicking photosynthesis is the future of solar cell technology, I also found this image showing chloroplasts inside a cell. I thought it was interesting how structures occur thorughout nature-- in this case hexagons are formed both by silicon lattices and organic cells.
Finally, I also looked at the vertical composition of mushrooms growing on a tree, in order to influence how I staggered the floorplates. There is a kind of sweep from the lower right to the upper left that I used in the building.
You might be able to see it better from this perspective:
It was a fun and difficult project. If you want to see all the details, feel free to download the Poster. Hope you enjoyed seeing this project!
Labels:
Architecture,
Biomimicry
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Building with a Thousand Facades
Recently I've been reading Joesph Cambell's Hero with a Thousand Faces. He believes that the whole pantheon of human mythology, from every culture and era, can be distilled into a finite set of basic themes, often revolving around the journey of the hero who must undergo some kind of spiritual transformation in order to save the world.
Campell also suggests that these themes are tied to basic psychological needs. Although I completely agree that this must be the case, his psychology is a bit dated... a bit too Freudian. Nevertheless, it is fascinating.
From my point of view, myth --and art in general-- serve the function of communicating a sense of being, or orientating ones mind, in a way that cannot be articulated with fact. This is why, as an atheist, I find it hard to communicate the emotional depth of my being to someone who is religious. This is why Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead are so popular, they represent perhaps the first serious epic contribution to atheist mythology. The architect who fights off the world with his integrity as his only weapon. The railroad tycoon whose great joy is to feel the act of creative enterprise... etc.
Recently, it occurred to me that Atlas Shrugged is simply a modern reinterpretation of the myth of the flood. The gods are angry with the misdeeds of humanity and release a flood upon mankind to purify the world of evil. In this case, the gods are the great producers, and their flood is to withdraw their own services from the economy. Noah builds an ark-- in this case, John Galt builds Galt's Gulch, to keep the good guys safe. When the flood passes-- when the economy has collapsed-- they return to the world to begin anew.
This says something about the universality of art. Art is not art unless it comes with meaning, and the meaning is what is universal, not the form. Campell's goal is to uncover the meaning from the infinite variations that humanity has produced.
So now, let's talk about architecture. I believe that just like mythology, monumental architecture from every era and culture uses basic, universal themes. While reading Campell, I was working on a design competition for an inter-faith chapel. So I thought-- why not apply this to temple architecture? Why not let a building, like myth, allow an occupant to relive the journey of the hero? Here's how I thought this might work:
From afar, one sees the temple as a distant, symbolic mount, indicating the place where the gods life. When approached, the temple begins with the threshold into the spirit world. The threshold is often foreboding, filled with symbols meant to ward off the evil spirits (gargoyles, sphinx, etc), and might be a dark entry that one cannot see through. Passing into the threshold, the hero must go through a series of trials-- this could be interpreted as dark spaces, long corridors, impressive volumes or masses, large staircases, disorienting labyrinths... or (my favorite) a sacrificial fire.
Having defeated the trials, the hero enters into the place of purification in which the hero must transform (experience death and rebirth) before entering the world of the gods. The purification often involves water, such as crossing a river, or washing oneself, or being submerged in water (baptism). Then the hero is then allowed to enter the world of the gods (the sanctuary), a beautiful place wherein the hero is able to unlock the source of life, so that it can flow again out into the world. The altar is typically this life source, although it is often represented as a tree. Once unlocked, the hero returns to the world... which might be represented by a connection to flourishing nature, such as courtyard with a tree at the center.
Above: me, standing next to an awesome ancient tree in the middle of the courtyard of the San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo Mission in Carmel by the Sea, California.
Many of the motifs I've just described are seen in temples of various religions. Maybe someday I will do an exhaustive analysis of world temples, to study reoccurring patterns and symbols.
Other important ideas not mentioned in my above sequence are the use of common mythological symbols such as fire (symbolic for desire, life, and often associated with ritual celebrations and sacrifice), and the sun, symbolic for divine energy, and the unattainable. There are also reoccurring geometric patterns in temples around the world. Cambell believes that the transition from round dome to square base, or the "quadrature of the circle" represents the transformation from the heavenly realm to the earthly realm.
If one were successful in designing a temple that could be used, and loved, by almost all world religions, that would be a great accomplishment. The Greek Parthenon is an example of this: it was used as a Greek temple, then as a mosque, then as a cathedral. It didn't come to ruin until an explosion that occurred while it was being used as an armory. Perhaps also, a temple that could appeal to all religions might also appeal to atheists, not as an unintentional consequence, but as a primary function.
Brett
Campell also suggests that these themes are tied to basic psychological needs. Although I completely agree that this must be the case, his psychology is a bit dated... a bit too Freudian. Nevertheless, it is fascinating.
From my point of view, myth --and art in general-- serve the function of communicating a sense of being, or orientating ones mind, in a way that cannot be articulated with fact. This is why, as an atheist, I find it hard to communicate the emotional depth of my being to someone who is religious. This is why Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead are so popular, they represent perhaps the first serious epic contribution to atheist mythology. The architect who fights off the world with his integrity as his only weapon. The railroad tycoon whose great joy is to feel the act of creative enterprise... etc.
Recently, it occurred to me that Atlas Shrugged is simply a modern reinterpretation of the myth of the flood. The gods are angry with the misdeeds of humanity and release a flood upon mankind to purify the world of evil. In this case, the gods are the great producers, and their flood is to withdraw their own services from the economy. Noah builds an ark-- in this case, John Galt builds Galt's Gulch, to keep the good guys safe. When the flood passes-- when the economy has collapsed-- they return to the world to begin anew.
This says something about the universality of art. Art is not art unless it comes with meaning, and the meaning is what is universal, not the form. Campell's goal is to uncover the meaning from the infinite variations that humanity has produced.
So now, let's talk about architecture. I believe that just like mythology, monumental architecture from every era and culture uses basic, universal themes. While reading Campell, I was working on a design competition for an inter-faith chapel. So I thought-- why not apply this to temple architecture? Why not let a building, like myth, allow an occupant to relive the journey of the hero? Here's how I thought this might work:
From afar, one sees the temple as a distant, symbolic mount, indicating the place where the gods life. When approached, the temple begins with the threshold into the spirit world. The threshold is often foreboding, filled with symbols meant to ward off the evil spirits (gargoyles, sphinx, etc), and might be a dark entry that one cannot see through. Passing into the threshold, the hero must go through a series of trials-- this could be interpreted as dark spaces, long corridors, impressive volumes or masses, large staircases, disorienting labyrinths... or (my favorite) a sacrificial fire.
Having defeated the trials, the hero enters into the place of purification in which the hero must transform (experience death and rebirth) before entering the world of the gods. The purification often involves water, such as crossing a river, or washing oneself, or being submerged in water (baptism). Then the hero is then allowed to enter the world of the gods (the sanctuary), a beautiful place wherein the hero is able to unlock the source of life, so that it can flow again out into the world. The altar is typically this life source, although it is often represented as a tree. Once unlocked, the hero returns to the world... which might be represented by a connection to flourishing nature, such as courtyard with a tree at the center.
Above: me, standing next to an awesome ancient tree in the middle of the courtyard of the San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo Mission in Carmel by the Sea, California.Many of the motifs I've just described are seen in temples of various religions. Maybe someday I will do an exhaustive analysis of world temples, to study reoccurring patterns and symbols.
Other important ideas not mentioned in my above sequence are the use of common mythological symbols such as fire (symbolic for desire, life, and often associated with ritual celebrations and sacrifice), and the sun, symbolic for divine energy, and the unattainable. There are also reoccurring geometric patterns in temples around the world. Cambell believes that the transition from round dome to square base, or the "quadrature of the circle" represents the transformation from the heavenly realm to the earthly realm.
If one were successful in designing a temple that could be used, and loved, by almost all world religions, that would be a great accomplishment. The Greek Parthenon is an example of this: it was used as a Greek temple, then as a mosque, then as a cathedral. It didn't come to ruin until an explosion that occurred while it was being used as an armory. Perhaps also, a temple that could appeal to all religions might also appeal to atheists, not as an unintentional consequence, but as a primary function.
Brett
Labels:
Architecture,
Philosophy
Sunday, November 1, 2009
A little gem
While working on the Zenith theater studio project for the Eugene downtown, I developed an idea for a cruciform plaza, below which was an art gallery with small sculpture courtyards on the corners. The outer walls of the courtyards would have "living walls," continuous walls of vegetation, to create an otherworldly feeling. You would walk into the gallery from the adjacent block, and look out to the small courtyards with sculptures against the wall of green.
This design, which I only had during midterm (and removed in the final version), is one of my favorite designs that I've done so far. There is a wonderful feeling that arises when a form is so simple that it could not be anything but what it is, it could not be changed in any way, since it fits its function so well.I feel this way about some of William Morgan's designs, such as his Lagoon House. Morgan has taught me several things-- that formal geometries, which relate to an ancient past of human architecture, can sing with this efficient lyricism, and that working the earth is one of the primal and sacred acts of architecture. Morgan (and Kahn, of course) represent one half of my presently bipolar architectural attitude-- the desire for the formal and abstract. The other half is the desire for the organic, the biomimietic, the almost representational capturing of form from nature.
I stumbled across the plaza design while working on my portfolio, and decided to include it, even though it didn't survive past midterm. It is like a young, fleeting lost lover, met only once but never quite forgotten.
best,Brett
Labels:
Architecture
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