Albert Kahn

Though he has been marginalized in most mainstream accounts of modern architecture, Albert Kahn (b. 1869–d. 1942) is increasingly considered one of the most important and consequential US architects of the 20th century. Kahn is known primarily for the technically innovative and rigorously functional factory buildings that his still-extant firm Albert Kahn Associates, Inc. (founded 1903) designed for automotive manufacturers, including the Ford Motor Company, but his firm was also responsible for hundreds of eclectically styled buildings for other purposes in Detroit, Michigan. Research and writing regarding Albert Kahn often requires considerable effort to disambiguation. Most importantly, Albert Kahn the man is far from a synecdoche for the firm he founded, Albert Kahn Associates, Inc., which employed upward of several hundred people at its height and is still in operation under the simplified Kahn moniker today. Some mid-20th century historians and critics substituted the inaccurate and often derogatory moniker “Albert Kahn Inc.” as name for the firm to suggest its alienated and impersonal nature. Albert Kahn’s siblings are also worthy of attention in their own right. Frequently mentioned in the extant literature are brothers Julius (b. 1874–d. 1942) who was a trained engineer, inventor and co-founder of the highly successful Trussed Concrete Steel Company; Moritz (b. 1880–d. 1939), who was also an executive of the Kahn firm pivotal in its operations in the USSR between 1929 and 1932, and occasionally Louis (b. 1885–d. 1945), who was a manager and executive in the Kahn firm. Views of Albert Kahn have served as a barometer for the intellectual climate in architecture culture since the early 20th century, indexing the relative importance of aesthetics, ethics, and technics. Studies of Kahn and his firm have, until recently, primarily focused on their contributions to industrial architecture and the influence of their early factory buildings on architecture culture at large. These studies often describe the give-and-take between assembly lines and the streamlined, pragmatic design of the buildings that encompassed them. An upsurge of recent attention to Kahn’s work has been oriented away from issues of design toward larger histories. Some scholars have addressed the shift toward large, integrated offices within the profession, for which Albert Kahn Associates was a groundbreaking exemplar. Others have addressed the ways Kahn served the growth of global enterprise, revealing that his marginalization from architectural history has effaced the willful complicity of US architects in compounding capitalist power and solidifying its ideology. These topics remain rich veins for future researchers.

Building on ‘Hollow Land’ : Skill and Expertise in Foundation-Laying Practices in the Low Countries in the Fifteenth to the Seventeenth Centuries

Foundation-laying practices for marshy conditions have received comparatively little attention in architectural history; however, in the seventeenth century Netherlandish specialized skill and knowledge for the construction of pile foundations was recognized as being exceptional and garnered international esteem. Based on new archival material, this article provides insight into the rigorous processes of foundation design, and draws attention to its multidisciplinary nature. In addition, it sheds new light on the introduction of deep foundations, which was a major engineering innovation, providing greater stability because of the use of longer piles that reached the first solid layer deep below the surface. While Dutch expertise was directly related to the landscapes they inhabited, other factors that fostered innovation in foundation design are considered as well.

The Glazed Eyes of History: Reading the 1964 AIA-ACSA Teacher Conference

This position paper looks at the 1964 AIA -ACSA Teacher conference, one that offers us a window into the current anxieties of architectural history survey courses. The conference was organized at a time when PhD programs in Architectural History and Theory were emerging, with accompanying mid-century notions of disciplines with clear boundaries, objects of study and hierarchy of experts. The questions that were being asked were fundamental: What is Architectural History? What are its contents? How should it be taught? Who is an Architectural Historian? However, a closer look beneath the masculine bravado of the conference reveals many of the same symptoms that persist today: questions of ‘diversity’ of content, anxiety to be ‘relevant’ to students in professional programs and a tendency to leave unquestioned the tradition of ‘designo’. This paper journeys through these anxieties with the hope of bringing some of those in play today into sharper focus. Perhaps, it concludes, the work of architectural history might be what Spivak termed as a project of “Planetarity”, involving not merely a change in epistemological methods but an undoing of the social order of architectural history.

Architectural style spreads its wings: New Zealand Architecture in the 1880s

The 1880s was a period in New Zealand of economic depression. It caused "unemployment, family distress, ragged children and exploited women workers, general business collapse, a crash in the property market, a ten-year banking crisis, bankruptcies and unstable ministries." But despite this Hodgson identifies this period in New Zealand's architectural history as one when: "Architectural style ... started to spread its wings and this period contains some fine examples of building design which was definitely out of the mainstream."

Second-hand poetics: Dynamic shifts from home to monument

<p>This thesis began with an Antarctic story. There is something sublime about the adventures of Scott and Shackleton; their ability to entertain the emotive sensation of place, despite a physical detachment. Tales of exploration arrest moments of suspense, drama and inspiration and yet they are surrounded by the fact that Antarctica is a barren, isolated expanse. The opportunity of these particular constructs, which operate between intimacy and departure, to serve the creation of a special experience, it exists beyond the replication of these narratives; they might suggest how New Zealand national identity might be framed. The natural architecture of the frozen continent is grand. Its timelessness rivals the foundations that the rest of the developed world is built on. Yet simultaneously its stories create a rapport which personalises identity and allows memory to be mobilised. New Zealand built history has only recently emerged but representationally the identity of the nation is monumental, especially in relation to Antarctic. This thesis asks how the relationship between NZ and Antarctica might be physically manifested through architecture, in order to deepen the stability of NZ historical identity. The project is situated on the Lyttelton harbour where New Zealand and Antarctica have historically converged. At this location the vicarious nature of the Antarctic story is exploited so that the sense of place might exist even though, physically and temporally, it is not attached to the Antarctic. This is realised through a set of imagined dwellings on Dampier Bay, which are contained within the definition of ‘Home’. The programme of this research acts to acknowledge this duality and formalises it as the ‘monument’ and the ‘home’. The primary understanding of programme will however be domestic, as it is the point at which our most intimate memories are created. The realisation of the monument will be introduced through the act of designing itself. Architecture is used as a tool to negotiate the exchange of personality between the two places and ideas, with the poetics of representation providing a framework for investigation. Because the method is derived from such poetics, my own subjective will is asserted onto these interpretations. The process has therefore become non-quantifiable, it relies instead on a level of intuition. The Antarctic story resonates with the moments we find identity in, they have the potential to complement New Zealand’s Architectural history where it is wanting of poetic agency.</p>

A tale of two suspended cities

<p>Thesis investigation looks to allegorical architecture as a means of enhancing our awareness of our environment. This investigation began in early 2016 with the discovery of a little-known architectural history of the Muaūpoko people and their suspended treevillage, Te Pā Rākau, in Horowhenua Aotearoa. Later, the invitation to participate in the construction of a treehouse for the 2016 Terni International Performing Arts Festival in Italy, provided an opportunity for the development of two unique design projects for this thesis – and to explore how allegorical architecture could respond uniquely to two tales of two very different cities: one, a mythological tale called Octavia - born of the urban unrest of post-industrial Italy; and two, a true but little known tale called Te Pa-Rakau from the extraordinary architectural history of precolonial Aotearoa. The tale that is told through the Octavia project is quite different from the one told through the Te Pā Rākau project, yet the formal outcomes have many similarities. In this way the two bodies of work are effectively reflections of one another. Each project is unified by the reseach aim of enhancing our awareness of nature through the creation of an ephemeral architecture of lightness as a starting point – but then each branches out in different directions based on a response to a unique narrative, unique cultural needs, environmental and contextual factors. This investigation seeks to enhance our awareness of the importance of a human cultural context within two ‘natural’ environments of two antipodean countries. Both environments have been transformed by humankind, fractured, to such a great degree that in Aotearoa while we still have some remnants of the original condition of our ancient lowland forests, they are just tiny fragments of what once was, and they are devoid of much of their former wildlife. In Italy this investigation focuses on an urban site in a region where there exists no intact original forests; the wild trees have been completely broken, reformed, reshaped by humankind so that they do not even look like naturally occurring trees anymore. Both scenarios explore how architecture can be used to make people aware of how important a relationship to nature really is; how beautiful it is; and how we need to enable it rather than disable it. This design-led investigation addresses the following aims: TAHI: To create a lightweight, tensile architecture that touches lightly upon the delicate forested environment in which it is sited. RUA: To create an architectural environment capable of inspiring a sense of human belonging within the indigenous forest; and to encourage an understanding and custodianship for this environment. TORU: To incorporate storytelling design elements into architecture to encourage the telling of oral histories; and to re-imagine the tale of suspended cities through contemporary architectural intervention. WHA: To create an anthropomorphic architecture that expresses itself as a living part of the forest; and to express, through built form, the narrative of the vibrant wildlife that once existed in this environment.</p>

A tale of two suspended cities

<p>Thesis investigation looks to allegorical architecture as a means of enhancing our awareness of our environment. This investigation began in early 2016 with the discovery of a little-known architectural history of the Muaūpoko people and their suspended treevillage, Te Pā Rākau, in Horowhenua Aotearoa. Later, the invitation to participate in the construction of a treehouse for the 2016 Terni International Performing Arts Festival in Italy, provided an opportunity for the development of two unique design projects for this thesis – and to explore how allegorical architecture could respond uniquely to two tales of two very different cities: one, a mythological tale called Octavia - born of the urban unrest of post-industrial Italy; and two, a true but little known tale called Te Pa-Rakau from the extraordinary architectural history of precolonial Aotearoa. The tale that is told through the Octavia project is quite different from the one told through the Te Pā Rākau project, yet the formal outcomes have many similarities. In this way the two bodies of work are effectively reflections of one another. Each project is unified by the reseach aim of enhancing our awareness of nature through the creation of an ephemeral architecture of lightness as a starting point – but then each branches out in different directions based on a response to a unique narrative, unique cultural needs, environmental and contextual factors. This investigation seeks to enhance our awareness of the importance of a human cultural context within two ‘natural’ environments of two antipodean countries. Both environments have been transformed by humankind, fractured, to such a great degree that in Aotearoa while we still have some remnants of the original condition of our ancient lowland forests, they are just tiny fragments of what once was, and they are devoid of much of their former wildlife. In Italy this investigation focuses on an urban site in a region where there exists no intact original forests; the wild trees have been completely broken, reformed, reshaped by humankind so that they do not even look like naturally occurring trees anymore. Both scenarios explore how architecture can be used to make people aware of how important a relationship to nature really is; how beautiful it is; and how we need to enable it rather than disable it. This design-led investigation addresses the following aims: TAHI: To create a lightweight, tensile architecture that touches lightly upon the delicate forested environment in which it is sited. RUA: To create an architectural environment capable of inspiring a sense of human belonging within the indigenous forest; and to encourage an understanding and custodianship for this environment. TORU: To incorporate storytelling design elements into architecture to encourage the telling of oral histories; and to re-imagine the tale of suspended cities through contemporary architectural intervention. WHA: To create an anthropomorphic architecture that expresses itself as a living part of the forest; and to express, through built form, the narrative of the vibrant wildlife that once existed in this environment.</p>