Scripting Cultures E-Book

Mark Burry

• Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Serie: Architectural Design Primer
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 344

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

With scripting, computer programming becomes integral to the digital design process. It provides unique opportunities for innovation, enabling the designer to customise the software around their own predilections and modes of working. It liberates the designer by automating many routine aspects and repetitive activities of the design process, freeing-up the designer to spend more time on design thinking. Software that is modified through scripting offers a range of speculations that are not possible using the software only as the manufacturers intended it to be used. There are also significant economic benefits to automating routines and coupling them with emerging digital fabrication technologies, as time is saved at the front-end and new file-to-factory protocols can be taken advantage of. Most significantly perhaps, scripting as a computing program overlay enables the tool user (designer) to become the new tool maker (software engineer). Though scripting is not new to design, it is only recently that it has started to be regarded as integral to the designer's skill set rather than a technical speciality.  Many designers are now aware of its potential, but remain hesitant.  This book treats scripting not only as a technical challenge, requiring clear description, guidance and training, but also, and more crucially, answers the question as to why designers should script in the first place, and what the cultural and theoretical implications are.

This book:

• Investigates the application of scripting for productivity, experimentation and design speculation.
• Offers detailed exploration of the scripting of Gaudí's final realised design for the Sagrada Família, leading to file-to-factory digital fabrication.
• Features projects and commentary from over 30 contemporary scripting leaders, including Evan Douglis, Marc Fornes, Sawako Kaijima, Achim Menges, Neri Oxman, Casey Reas and Hugh Whitehead of Foster + Partners.

Leseprobe

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Executive Commissioning Editor: Helen CastleProject Editor: Miriam SwiftAssistant Editor: Calver Lezama

ISBN 978-0-470-74642-4 (hardback)ISBN 978-0-470-74641-7 (paperback)ISBN 978-1-119-97927-2 (ebk)ISBN 978-1-119-97928-9 (ebk)ISBN 978-1-119-97929-6 (ebk)

Dedication

To my family

Acknowledgements

First and foremost I must acknowledge with gratitude the contribution of Andrew Miller who has steered the complex Scripting Cultures project to its conclusion having undertaken the initial background research with tenacity. Ensuring that the scripting represented in Chapters 6 to 10 was at industry strength I gratefully acknowledge the expertise of Peter Wood (Chapters 5, 6 and 8), Dr Wojtek James Goscinski (Chapters 7, 8 and 9), Daniel Davis and Alex Peña de León (Chapter 10). For rendering support I thank the indefatigable Grant Dunlop (Chapters 5, 6, 7 and 9), James Loder (Chapters 8, 9 and 10) and Daniel Davis (Chapter 10). I thank Adam Corcoran and Michael Wilson for their contribution to the various diagrams that support the scripting throughout the book. I thank Brad Marion for the fabulous rapid prototype in Chapter 9 photographed beautifully by Andrew Miller. Thank you Jane Burry and Andrew Burry for reading and positive commenting, and Tim Schork for early input.

Chapter 3 was based on the extraordinary generosity from over thirty early and recent scripting pioneers who responded voluminously to the set of short ‘questions of the day’ that I posed. I am sorry to have been able to include only loose gems from the basket of jewels amassed, but all the contributions have substantially influenced the contents of Scripting Cultures. My sincere thanks to my scripting cultural defenders: Acconci Studio (Vito Acconci), Francis Aish (Foster + Partners), Robert Aish, AKT (Adams Kara Taylor) (Sawako Kaijima and Panagiotis Michalatos), Biothing (Alisa Andrasek), CEB Reas (Casey Reas), CITA (Mette Ramsgard Thomsen), Pia Ednie-Brown, Cristiano Ceccato, Paul Coates, Evan Douglis, John Frazer, Mark Goulthorpe, Tom Kvan, Axel Kilian, Neil Leach, Kokkugia (Roland Snooks), Kyle Steinfeld, labDORA (Peter Macapia), Achim Menges, MESNE (Tim Schork and Paul Nicholas), MinusArchitecturestudio (Jason Johnson), Mode, MOS (Michael Meredith), Neri Oxman, Brady Peters, Nick Pisca (Gehry Technologies), Proxy (Mark Collins and Toru Hasegawa), Dennis Shelden, SOFTlab (Michael Szivos), SPAN (Matias del Campo), Supermanoeuvre, Martin Tamke, THEVERYMANY (Marc Fornes), Hugh Whitehead.

Key components of the project discussed in Chapter 10 were work in progress emerging from a collaboration between SIAL at RMIT University School of Architecture and Design in Melbourne, Australia, and CITA at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts, School of Architecture in Copenhagen, Denmark. The project was led by me in my role as Velux Visiting Professor at CITA and Mette Ramsgard Thomsen, Head of CITA, in collaboration with Martin Tamke, Jane Burry, Phil Ayres, Stig Anton Nielsen, Alex Peña de León, Daniel Davis, Jacob Riiber Nielsen, Anders Holden Deleuran, Morten Winter, Aaron Fidjeland, Michael Wilson and Tore Banke.

I gratefully acknowledge the support of the Australian Research Council and their award of my Federation Fellowship without which this book would not have been possible. RMIT University School of Architecture and Design has provided the essential creative context for much of the work reported, and I acknowledge the Sagrada Família Church Foundation in Barcelona for the opportunity they provide to dig deeply into the less accessible reaches of Gaudí’s later portfolio.

Finally I thank Helen Castle for her encouragement and insightful editorial direction and Miriam Swift and Calver Lezama for their patience and forbearance on what has inevitably been a lengthy and unscriptable project.

Contents

Chapter 1 Scripting cultures

Chapter 2 Contextual summary of computing, scripting and speculative design

Chapter 3 Cultural defence

Chapter 4 Resources

Chapter 5 Dimensions

Chapter 6 Scripted productivity: Gaudí’s rose windows

Chapter 7 Composition and form

Chapter 8 Simplifying complexity for fabrication

Chapter 9 Scripting narrative space: Our World and The Third Policeman

Chapter 10 Performative scripting

Chapter 11 Cultural account: scripting and shifts in authorship

Glossary

Scripting tools

Recommended reading

Index

Picture credits

Chapter 1

Scripting cultures

Digital design is now fully assimilated into design practice, and we are moving rapidly from an era of being aspiring expert users to one of being adept digital toolmakers. This primer looks at this transition and acts as a first resource for all those curious about developing a higher-order engagement with the computer, but with an eye to critical enquiry rather than geekdom. Scripting Cultures considers the implications of lower-level computer programming (scripting) as it becomes more widely taken up and more confidently embedded into the ‘design process’.

Scripting is a rather loose term by any definition and in this primer can be taken to mean computer programming at several levels. For the novice dabbling at the more accessible end of the user spectrum, scripting is the capability offered by almost all design software packages that allows the user to adapt, customise or completely reconfigure software around their own predilections and modes of working. At its most demanding for the emerging connoisseur, scripting can refer to higher-level computer programming where, in the ‘open-source’ environment, ‘libraries’ of functions can be combined with preconfigured routines (algorithms) as a means to produce manufacturer-independent digital design capability.1 At its simplest, therefore, scripting affords a significantly deeper engagement between the computer and user by automating routine aspects and repetitive activities, thus facilitating a far greater range of potential outcomes for the same investment in time. Along with extending design experimentation, scripting can also be the antidote to standardisation forced by an ambition to lower production costs, rather than any more sophisticated motivation: the previously elusive opportunities for multiple versioning and bespoke production can now be considered more seriously through the use of scripting. This new territory combines with emerging affordable digital fabrication technologies taking advantage of the improving file-to-factory protocols. This has the potential to free up the designer to spend more time on design thinking. Authoritative customisation of the ‘black box’ affords the designer opportunities to escape the strictures inherent in any software – by definition in ways not thought of by the makers, otherwise it would be an existing capability.

Strictly speaking, to script is to write a screenplay or dialogue from which a play might be performed. Setting down the language from which others perform is presumably why the word ‘scripting’ has entered the lexicon of software users, and in computing, ‘scripting language’ is often synonymous with ‘programming language’: it is the means by which the user gives highly specific instructions to the computer with which they are interacting.2 At a semantic level it is possible that the designer is less likely to flinch at the term scripting than they might at the term programming, for it is quite clear that most of the designers who use computers as a core part of their digital practice do not automatically turn to programming to form part of their repertoire. By not doing so users at once place their entire trust in the software engineers in the expectation that those anonymous collaborators have thought through all that might be wanted by the designers, just as they are conceding that what seems on occasion endless manual repetition is an acceptable use of their time when they could otherwise have been seeking some degree of automation. Software modified by the designer through scripting, however, provides a range of possibilities for creative speculation that is simply not possible using the software only as the manufacturers intended it to be used. Because scripting is effectively a computing program overlay, the tool user (designer) becomes the new toolmaker (software engineer).

Motivation to contribute to the scripting Zeitgeist

Why write a book on scripting in terms of culture when it may only be a passing ‘style’?

Scripting is not new to design and was originally considered the task of a specialist; being taught to program computers in any way was not part of a design education. It is only recently that there has been a sufficient groundswell of interest to prompt change. Many designers are now aware of the potential of scripting, but it is still seen as a difficult arena to enter. This book joins the growing list of titles that have emerged over the last few years offering routes for designers into the world of scripting. This primer could treat scripting as a technical challenge requiring clear description, guidance and training, but instead leaves that task to others and focuses on motivation. Crucially, Scripting Cultures offers some answers to why the designer would script in the first place, and considers some of the cultural and theoretical implications along the way. Scripted code readily changes hands and, in terms of potential risks, it could become a cloning tool for less talented operators to mimic their masters. In contrast and in terms of opportunities scripting ought to be the opposite: a liberating design force unleashed by the Internet combining with the innate human desire to share knowledge; the live hive in which the collective critical mass is far greater than the sum of the individuals.

This book offers three important differences to other titles and seeks to provide complementary material rather than dig away at essential points of difference. Firstly, the predominant theme is ‘cultural’ rather than ‘practical’, ‘computational’, ‘artistic’ or ‘generative’. It enquires into the cultural implications of scripting and asks what are the cultures of scripting as, emerging in myriad ways, they more conspicuously influence the designer’s toolkit. Secondly, on an associated website hosted by Wiley, this book directs readers to substantial worked examples of code adopted in some of the most widely used modelling software for some of the project work described. In these samples, every parcel of code is provided for the reader with basic explanations as to what it does, and why it appears where it does in the script. Thirdly, for the designer who does not want to work on top of manufacturers’ software packages, a worked example will be laid out as proof of concept using freely available open-source software, offering the experienced designer complete freedom in the way that they operate.

The book is organised in three sections. It commences by considering the fundamentals of computing and design as a means of capturing some of the spirit at the time in which I am writing. More critically still, the primer moves on to distil the thoughts of many of the current generation of key scripters into an action plan as first steps to deducting some kind of collective ‘quo vadis?’. As essential background for the aspiring novice, this is followed by a succinct consideration of what others have written on the subject and the principal choices of approach available to the scripter but not discussed in detail in this primer. The final section is a series of five commentaries around two decades of my own endeavours in the field. This is preceded by an account of a set of design preoccupations as the context for this personal line of enquiry. I hasten to add that I am not an expert scripter myself, but the longevity of my involvement has led to a series of insights shared here, to serve at least as provocations if not as an actual modus operandi for general adoption. The introduction to the five projects, ‘Dimensions’, covers my motivation to start scripting and commences the general theme around the primacy of first idea, then ideation, conceptual development and, ultimately, logical exposition. Technique, which could so easily have been foregrounded, has instead taken a back seat. Rapid changes in software and emerging alternative computational design approaches enforce this ‘knowhow’ reticence, not least to avoid the primer becoming obsolete soon after publication. The intellectual challenges of ideation and the logic of digital design discovery alone are sufficient motivation for an exposé of this kind, transcending any need for a developed discussion on the relative ease or difficulty of particular software or open-source opportunities in our current era.

Necessarily, I bring my own baggage to this account, but in conducting my research for the primer it became clear that my situation, that of an autodidact, is not the exception that I had perhaps assumed. This is one of two reasons why it is titled Scripting Cultures and not simply Scripting Culture; this is to say, innovative scripting designers do not want to be locked into a single defining culture. The other motivation to pluralise ‘culture’ is to reinforce the message that the book is not about identifying and tuning into the latest swarm phenomenon, and placing an umbrella over a ‘new’ design movement or style. Scripting, as an approach to computational design, offers access to whole new ways of exploring design, but design remains always at the core. It is clear to me that so long as coders follow their own leads, there will be many scripting cultures. Scripting is especially prominent now because of the difference between digital design pre scripting and digital design now, as scripting steps temporarily into the limelight as a burgeoning new creative force, as agents of change often are. Its assumed novelty will pass, no doubt, but we are still at the stage of largely uncritical engagement. This primer will play its part, I hope, in encouraging digital designers to take up scripting while still continuing to think for themselves as designers first, as they always have done.

References

1 At the highest level still (short of designing one’s own computer) there is ‘machine code’, the actual machine operating language of a computer with which the user-engaged operating language negotiates. We will not be going anywhere near there.

2 Some software includes opportunities to engage through scripting at several levels of sophistication, from macro writing, scripting, and programming via a SDK (software development kit).

Chapter 2

Contextual summary of computing, scripting and speculative design

At this point we are not at all clear about where we have arrived in the world of practical computing and speculative design and their full value, culturally as well as economically. This chapter considers computer engagement in practice and its assistance in automating practical aspects of office work at one end of the utility spectrum with digital design dreaming at the other. The focus of Scripting Cultures is more dreaming than dealing with immediate workaday practicalities, although in advanced architecture it is hard to separate the two. Design speculation is the primer’s predominant subtext and quite what is meant by this term will unfold throughout the book.

There is tension between the design automation and digital speculation within a context of a residual undercurrent of general resentment over the computer’s arrival in the first place (granted, barely perceptible now, but present all the same). Not only does one still come across ardent critics who perceive as sullying the computer’s incursion into a world of practice uncontaminated for centuries by reprographic machinery of any kind, but there are several levels of nostalgia-based discontent over the choice of tools with which to inscribe our thoughts. At its most fundamental, such critics rue the passing of tracing vellum and pencils, compasses with nibs attached for inscribing circles, ‘T’ squares, French curves, traditional drawing boards, delicate watercolour washes, and the art of the perspectivist. While the majority adapted to the 20th-century instrumentalisation of architectural drawing, for instance, my propelling pencils, technical pens, and calculators were still regarded as retrograde distractions by some eminent architects who taught me in the 1970s.

For the last two decades the economic returns of using computers have been increasingly undeniable to nearly everyone, and few would disagree with any assertion that they are here to stay, but there remains the tension I refer to above, between the computer as practical aide-de-camp, and computer as digital design agent. I see merit in both schools of thought, and scripting as an effective mediator, but there are many who do not see it both ways. In my opinion scripting for effective building delivery, important within the general framework of construction economics, while technically a challenge, is not as directly interesting for the designer as design thinking and dreaming.

A brief history of CAD

For the younger reader entirely familiar with what computers can now do, it may be worthwhile to reflect on how much has changed and how quickly. Here is how design computation was approached as it was taught to us in a university at the forefront of design computation research in the late 1970s (Cambridge, UK).

I was lucky to have had Bill Mitchell as the person who introduced my class to computer-aided design. This was a real privilege as Bill seemed the kind of person who would help make the world become how he envisaged it, which he largely succeeded in doing within his sphere.1 One does not meet too many people with this degree of infectious vision and capability. Someone else had the ambitious task of putting part of Bill’s vision into practice for my class, and once a week for a semester we went down to the university’s computer centre where we would do the maths and valiantly punch cards to input the computer with the necessary analogue binary data. At the end of the semester I had computer-drafted a cube that could be viewed in perspective; an inauspicious introduction to design computation. Possibly this was the reason that I took absolutely no interest in the field until encouraged by circumstance to do so in 1989. When I left my architectural employment at that point I suffered the ignominy of being replaced by a computer at exactly the same time as I was beginning to re-engage with a task that cried out for computational assistance. My interest had been sufficiently piqued to revisit the topic. How much had it advanced in a decade, I wondered?

Tracing the evolution of computers in practice is absolutely clear in contrast to attempting to map the support of speculative design by designers. ‘Design computing’ from Herbert Simon onwards has a proud history (principally around Artificial Intelligence – AI) with globally located key design research centres such as those at Carnegie Mellon, Strathclyde, Cambridge, MIT and Sydney Universities. Engineering specialists regard the challenges of porting building information from computer system to computer system as being core to business needs so they have been prominent drivers in the adoption of computers in practice. Worryingly, in terms of business that is, little has changed in four decades with regard to the ambitions of ‘BIM’, as it is now known (Building Information Modelling); it is as much in the forefront of large practices’ priorities as it was back in the early 1970s when ‘hospital design systems’ set the ‘computers in architecture’ ball rolling. Central to these particular priorities is the management and sharing of large databases, integrated models, and relationships built between recognisable architectural objects. The problem is that the systems are still only coping with the more straightforward challenges with the inexhaustible optimism that interoperable comprehensiveness is just around the corner.

It is not at all easy to discern the design priorities here. Planners and facilities managers too have yet another set of priorities with which the agenda is forced, as do cost estimators. If the university were the last bastion for independent thinking about digital design, it did not present a convincing defence with academics largely insisting over the past two decades that the focus should be on teaching skills immediately useful to practice, such as Computer-Aided Design (CAD) as digital drafting, photorealistic renders and digital construction detailing and referencing. Then there is the whole information management and communications resolution always hustling for recognition.

Where has digital design speculation been throughout all this?

The answer is that digital design speculation has always been there, but supported more as a kind of counter-culture (through active engagement rather than by being merely tolerated) by relatively few institutions, notably the DRL at the AA and the Bartlett, London, SCI-Arc in Los Angeles, The MediaLab at MIT, ETH in Zurich, and the one I direct; the Spatial Information Architecture Laboratory (SIAL) at RMIT University in Melbourne. Consider the way these digital design research centres acquire odd names or unhelpful acronyms, almost as a subversive move to obfuscate what really goes on inside. I apologise to colleagues of the many burgeoning programmes worldwide that now support innovative digital design speculation through scripting: my list is representative of the pool of ambition generally, and the groups listed are relatively well established.

Scripting is as vital in all of the fields listed above as I believe is the case for its role in design. In fact, for many working in the technical areas, computer programming is a core activity without which nothing would happen. What helps account for why computers have had demonstrably less immediate impact in architecture (design) than in any other creative discipline is perhaps that ‘computers in architecture’ research has been biased towards many of the discipline’s technical fields; unfortunately, computers and architectural technology can be in a relatively obscure consciousness zone for those whose focus is the speculative nature of design. This is the first of several paradoxes that pepper this book. In the discipline the majority of architects are motivated more by design in architecture than the many associated and predominantly technical subdisciplines. The technical subdisciplines have dominated research into computers in architectural practice because, as a useful art, these areas will more immediately help the commercial aspects of practice than would design tools, and more conspicuously too. Architects, after all, can design with pencils anyway. Research money therefore goes into technical applications and productivity aids such as drafting software. The paradox is that for decades architectural software has striven to emulate the analogue working practice that architects developed over the past two centuries and, as a group, architects have not been especially motivated to assist lifting themselves out of the analogue design methods rut. I cover this in more personal detail in the following chapter.

Gehry Partners, Beekman Tower, New York, construction March 2010.

Scripting, then, sits across all aspects of computer use in architecture but width is not the focus of this primer. The reason is that there is an abundance of material for would-be BIM scripters, the engineering scripter or in fact any area that attracts those with a strong technical bias, because the people attracted to these areas already have a bias towards skill acquisition as programmers. Scripting Cultures is therefore aimed more deeply, to nourish the less well fed, as it were; those who want to script for design because, in terms of factor of difficulty, this area has the most hurdles in front of it. The rapid ascendance of more user-friendly design software, easier scripting languages, a growing community of scripters and a gradual wearing out of the fuddy-duddy brake pads implied at the beginning of this chapter, all combine to make this a good time for newcomers to be primed up, ready to make their innovative contribution to scripting cultures.

The style question

Where have we been and where are we now?

The answer to the second part of this question is teased out more in the next chapter but I shall at least provide some hints here. What follows is a personal take on the lead up to what many regard as the current semi-seismic shift from scripting as counter-culture to scripting as a driving force for 21st-century architectural thinking.

I do not believe that there is any particular consensual understanding or appreciation of where we have got to now or universal enthusiasm for promoting digital design as having emerged as the dominant paradigm. Cecil Balmond is very explicit on the subject in his wonderful Informal:

We are in a time when anything goes and there is no basis for a manifesto – post modern has come to, ultimately, no meaning. With little understanding of the motivation of form, modernism runs into minimalist dead ends and by continuing to look to the outside the seduction with objecthood and architecture as art is perpetuated. Geometry is not invoked; no one peers within and asks questions about the archetypes of form. These are forgotten.2

The actual level of success that prominent practitioner-educator-commentators such as Patrik Schumacher will enjoy in identifying and pushing Parametricism as the first real style since, and therefore successor to, the Modern Movement will be seen in the future by its take up as a manifesto force, or its possible rejection as a superficial overview.

We pursue the parametric design paradigm all the way, penetrating into all corners of the discipline. Systematic, adaptive variation, continuous differentiation (rather than mere variety), and dynamic, parametric figuration concerns all design tasks from urbanism to the level of tectonic detail, interior furnishings and the world of products.3

Parametricism itself does not interest me particularly, especially as ‘parametric design’ is tantamount to a sine qua non; what exactly is non-parametric design? It is difficult enough getting to grips with parametric design from a number of points of view. In my university-based research group, we were early adopters of so-called parametric design software in 1991 as described in Chapter 5, but for the past ten years we have been doing our best to challenge its assumed authority. Others, too, such as Michael Meredith, express their reservations forcefully:

When something supposedly looks ‘parametric’ today, it’s aesthetic (re)production—the repetition of quality and taste. The mastering of hi-tech engineering software is ultimately used to produce ornate architectural decoration.4

The motivation for making such a claim as ‘parametricism’ does interest me however. My own view at the time of writing (2010) is rather ambivalent. I can see why it is important for individuals or groups to stand up from time to time as provocateurs, catalysing the debates that everyone else tries to avoid. But I was also getting comfortable with the fact that stylistic hegemonies had at long last died out, dinosaurs of an age when collectivism, suppression of individualism, obligatory conformity to the (rather than a) style, and dominant paradigms were at last deemed unnecessary cultural constructs. I have had at least 15 years to wallow in the freedom that pluralism brings to the individualist, the continuous reenergising and unprecedented connectedness that the Internet offers, and the pleasure that the ‘local’ has more importance than ever within the global village. Whereas the ‘local’ might be all that was known in not so distant times, today we know the local of any situation better because we have many views of the world in which to locate it. And now that we understand the local in terms of the global, with the gift of the Internet like minds can gravitate towards each other with sufficient critical mass to eschew automatic adherence to unnecessary global movements.

If we are in fact in an era of pluralism, as well as or instead of parametricism, it is a very interesting condition. The Modern Movement was the only cultural hegemony to have influenced the entire world simultaneously – little wonder at the interest in the question about what would follow it, hence Postmodernism, Deconstructivism, and then the void that digital design offers to fill.

Like all great radical movements, the Modern Movement would have a degree of preposterousness to it were it not for having been so great an influence in all cultural activity for at least two generations. Looking back over the period with the advantage of being a generation removed, its distinctiveness decreases in the longer view of history, that same illusion of distinctiveness that its promoters used to advance its cause: alleged breaks with tradition, modernity et al. It might have been only the accident of a combination of personalities and egos that took all the world into Modernism following the first International Congress for Modern Architecture (Congrès international d’architecture moderne, or CIAM), hosted in 1928 at La Sarraz (Switzerland). There, rather than the various routes offered by a number of unalloyed alternative movements that had emerged in the previous generation, standardisation became the new force. The alternative groups had been actively embracing:

… the exuberance of Expressionism, the mystical fanaticism of De Stijl, the bracing coolness of die Neue Sachlichkeit, the wild invention of the Constructivists, the brooding complexity of the Organic School, and the rationalism of the Purists.5

Through what comes across as an unseemly suppression of the contributions of Hugo Häring it was made clear at the congress that new imperatives replaced such loose sentiment:

The politics of launching a movement aimed to produce an orthodoxy of method, technology and language on an international scale could ill afford the sensitive and responsive approach of someone who pleaded, ‘we want to examine things and allow them to discover their own images. It goes against the grain with us to bestow a form on them from the outside’.6

In place of such pleas, the delegates of that first CIAM declared that

The most efficient method of production is that which arises from rationalization and standardization. Rationalization and standardization act directly on working methods both in modern architecture (conception) and in the building industry (realization).7

And this remained the dominant paradigm, the ‘standard’ for two generations of architects for the next half-century. The holism and philosophical underpinning of the discrete but empathetic groups of ‘non standard’ was sufficient grounds to justify the pejorative labelling of such wayward architects in the first CIAM declaration as ‘academicians‘. Paradoxically the elevation of the dullness of standardisation countered the most significant developments of the early 20th century including the potential impact of the move from Euclidean to non-Euclidean geometry, the arrival of quantum physics, and with it a more sophisticated role for the mathematician, all of which could have been especially influential for what would have been a unique breaking of architectural traditions. Culturally and socially too, there were developments, individuals and travesties as potential influencers that could have been so much more influential: mechanised war, moving pictures, flight, radio, James Joyce, Futurism, are examples.

Whatever was lost as an opportunity to radicalise architecture then has perhaps been regained in our time. It is an interesting conundrum: the history of architecture is dominated by the fundamental processes of architecture being sublimated by changes in its clothing – style. However reductionist the Modern Movement might have been in one sense, it was absolutely tied to that essential architectural tradition: espousal and implementation of a dominant paradigm. Scripting has the potential to consolidate the apparent fractures that were being willed in the first quarter of the 20th century, and earlier even, threatening the established hegemonies and any that might be being promulgated in the wake of a vacuum following the ‘death’ of Modernism.

Mette Ramsgard Thomsen, CITA, CAD-CAM Knitting, Copenhagen, 2010.

The architectural field’s current use of the parametric has been superficial and skin-deep, maybe importantly so, lacking of a larger framework of referents, narratives, history, and forces. Despite the contemporary collective desire to forget postmodern semiotic signification, everything visual eventually devolves into symbolic imagery. The recent architectural production has been dedicated towards a post-postmodern architecture of radical distortion as a way to escape signification and subvert semiotic legibility (twisted hyperbolic forms, stretched out shapes, extreme continuity of planes and surfaces, etc.). I would argue that the ‘parametric work’ being produced today fits within an evolution of so-called postmodernism, concerning the image and referent although the parametric is the tautological modulated image of quantity; the indexical referent is itself and analogous systems. To the extent the profession has utilized parametrics today, there is very little instigating complexity other than a mind-numbing image of complexity, falling far short of its rich potential to correlate multivalent processes or typological transformations, parallel meanings, complex functional requirements, site-specific problems or collaborative networks.8

Parametricism or not, clearly we are on the cusp of an extraordinary shift in creative potential and priorities and with it architectural practice. The authoritative creative force in terms of published column inches within the architectural press can be identified, in the main, as a group of male designers of advancing years, the majority of whom are not digitally design literate regardless of how much use is made of the computer in their studios (nor how much pro-digital rhetoric emerges from their practice). Meanwhile, at this time when global financial crises have been curtailing economic activity, especially in the construction sector, a combination of ‘design research’ practices and highly innovative studio teaching is emerging as an unstoppable force. I am diffident about predicting any details of a future of new architecture or new practice. Through my own experience of two decades of a critical and vital uptake of the computer in my projects, I am acutely aware of how much architectural design thinking has changed for the relatively few pioneers, and how inevitably what were previously seen as exceptional ways of thinking will increasingly infuse the various design procedures and vocabularies with which all will no doubt operate in the future, not just an enlightened few.

The problem with rules

When I first started teaching design 15 years after being taught myself, I was discomforted by the changes in priority between my time as a student and those that informed my teaching on elevation to the other side of the lectern. When I was a student, design was presented didactically as a range of options, some right or wrong, some better or less good. It did not matter that there was confusion between a quasi-moral code and an ethically relativistic position attempting to coexist under the banner of Modernism; it was all shoehorned into a package. Our portfolios were assessed on this basis with aphorisms like ‘you need to know the rules before you break them’. My instinctive response was, then ‘why have rules?’, but that was before finding out about scripting, and the need for precise language. This is my second paradox – design freedom apparently compromised by the inflexibility of (almost) all scripting languages. As designers, of course, we welcome the frisson that discovery of the viable workaround to scripting’s inevitably highly precise coding always provides.

Over the years I have enjoyed studio teaching conducted on the basis of helping talented young designers hone what are sometimes only vestigial skills in critical judgement of their own creative output, primarily through engaging with their peers. It is about unlocking potential rather than guiding conformity to universally held doctrinal positions, so movements seem unhelpful to me in that regard. I will return later to this topic in terms of the lack of a ‘Gaudí school’, as it was put to me when I was a student, and a little more fully in Chapter 5.

The motivation to script is varied and none of the designers who have contributed to the territorial overview in the next chapter would claim to script for scripting’s sake. Much of this book is a series of worked examples that provide the vehicle for the crux of my account: dissections of my own experience offered as primer source material and insights for readers to engage with. In this chapter I consider my own motivation from a generic point of view in order to declare my bias up front, and possibly to encourage others to shed any style shackles that might hold them back too.

P Michalatos & S Kaijima, AKT Architects, Topology optimiser, London, 2010.

I might have looked in detail at a wider set of design scripting approaches in order to discuss the full gamut of opportunities in the field in detail but, as I am sure my peers will agree, such a neutral comprehensive overview would inevitably be disingenuous given the personal investment that goes with scripting design. Scripting can be a design idiom. On this basis I will endeavour not to overly critique other approaches that I have not tried myself, as it would not place me on a sufficiently critical footing. Alternative approaches skilfully tried and tested by others but not by me will be remote descriptions only, and not serve any useful purpose here. In the final analysis, the selection of scripting approaches I have adopted myself over the years would indicate where my creative instincts lie, and the fact that I have not taken up some of the many other well-known procedures (algorithms and libraries of code samples that I refer to in Chapter 4) simply points to the fact that they have not seemed useful to me for my purposes. Others have clearly found them to be essential, and I will direct the reader to specific exemplars in the next two chapters as appropriate.

Last word on the school

We all come from a school of something. When I was a student in the late 1970s, for instance, we were warned off taking too much interest in Gaudí’s oeuvre as ‘there was no school’ of the type I refer to above. In other words, he was so hopelessly idiosyncratic and self indulgent as an architect (my lecturer’s assessment, not mine I hasten to add) that he had no long-term followers, and so his message died with him. Of course, such a statement was all that I needed as a provocation to find out more, and two of my five worked examples here come semi-directly from my work at the Sagrada Família Church in Barcelona; I have been working on the project to complete the building for the last three decades, endeavouring to untangle some of the important mysteries around Gaudí’s way of working that would otherwise be lost from view. I cannot argue that my contribution to this task was only possible through scripting, but I can say that my research through scripting has significantly added to the discovery of riches.

In terms of ‘what is my school’, I come from the school of ‘design is the mapping of an idea through to an intended outcome’. It does not involve a method nor does it heartily embrace the role of accident. Serendipity may play a part, but as a possible surprising influence rather than as a driver. The logic structures attendant in scripting suit me because I am happy to see design as a declarative activity rather than something vague or esoteric. There are many alternative schools, but the one I subscribe to is distinctive for placing the word intention centrally within the construct. This does not preclude intuition at all, but it does make generative processes a little difficult to embrace fully if any authorship is ceded to chance in a careless way. As I enjoy the company of friends and colleagues who profoundly disagree with this stance, it seems best to put my position on the role of intention firmly on the table from the outset.

Back to earth, these are still early days. We have a hunger for far greater computer power to allow the multi-parameter decision-making to take place in real-time, and many of today’s scripters need to take off their gloves, define their goals more precisely, and think about coding from first principles as excitedly as adopting an algorithm designed for another context, before discovering any limitations. This primer is therefore priming the reader for an exciting sense of the future that might not have quite arrived. The next chapter trips back into the past with a personal account – every scripter has one, and they are all quite different it seems. It also picks up on the present and near future with a selection of extracts from the views of over 30 pioneer and contemporary scripting maestros who responded to a series of questions I put to them when researching scripting cultures.

References

1 Bill Mitchell died in June 2010. Author of many profoundly insightful and future-oriented books largely proselytising intelligent computer use in practice, he is profiled in my ‘pioneers’ pantheon’ in Chapter 4. Readers will gain particular value from those of his many publications listed in the bibliography at the end of this book.

2 CT Balmond, Informal, Prestel USA (New York), 2007, p 15.

3 Patrik Schumacher, Parametricism as Style – Parametricist Manifesto, New Architecture Group (London), 2008. Presented and discussed at the Dark Side Club, 11th Architecture Biennale, Venice, 2008; http://www.patrikschumacher.com/Texts/Parametricism%20as%20Style.htm.

4 See projects by Michael Meredith, Aranda\Lasch, Mutsuro Sasaki in T Sakamoto, A Ferre, M Kubo, From Control to Design: Parametric/Algorithmic Architecture, Actar (New York), 2008, p 6.

5 Colin St John Wilson, The Other Traditions of Modern Architecture: the uncompleted project, Academy Editions (London), 1995, p 13.

6 Colin St John Wilson, Architectural Reflections: studies in the philosophy and practice of architecture, Butterworth Architecture (Oxford and Boston), 1992, p xi.

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