Solve the problem

So, I was preparing to go on a bit of a rant here, but as I think through the issue at hand, it truly is much more difficult to do than talk about. Nonetheless, I think the discussion is worthwhile, even if only to prod myself to do a little differently.

I just came out of a meeting of designers looking at how to make a development project here in Boston more sustainable. One of the issues that came up at the end was that the city of Boston requires wheelchair accessibility at all building entrances on new-built housing, including townhouses. To the people in the room, this seemed ludicrous; the City of Boston's noble but foolish attempt to assure equal building access for everyone was keeping them from being able to include much sought-after amenities, like front stoops. Why on earth would the city regulators do something so inconveniencing?

Another stubborn issue had come up earlier in the conversation: the use of stormwater runoff from the building (greywater) for certain water uses within the building, such as flushing toilets. The Massachusetts Building Code doesn't currently allow this innovation, although as one group member mentioned, codes do change. In that case, I naively wondered, could the stormwater management and plumbing systems be designed to permit a future connection? No, I was told; such a thing was impossibly expensive, requiring the creation of two sets of piping for the current and future systems.

Now, both of the above are challenging questions without easy answers; I certainly don't know the solution to either off the top of my head. It would take a lot of thinking through before one could hit on the really elegant and functional solution that would meet all the criteria, and there might be few or no precedents to guide you. Except ... if we're designers, isn't that what we're supposed to do? Aren't we the creative problem solvers? Don't we say that what makes us special is our ability to find such solutions?

In architecture, it seems like sometimes it's more worthy to make a crazy new space shape or find a way to use an untested but "cool" material than to solve a serious usability problem. Constraints like having to meet other people's needs or regulations hinder creativity; it's way more fun - not to mention way easier - to make up your own criteria for creating an unusual "experience" and then design that project. Some architects act as if health, safety and welfare standards are the bane of their existence, and they'd be much happier if the law didn't force them to abide by such nonsense.

The designers I was with today were by no means so extreme. But I was frustrated that they didn't see these questions and constraints not as limits on their ability to do as they are used to, but as the opportunity to distinguish themselves through true innovation. No, you can't use the same stair design or pipe design that everyone's been using for decades; but yes, you'll be that designer who creates beautiful, equitable, flexible - and ultimately much more sustainable - buildings that suit their situation and users to a T.

To be fair, this is difficult; I'm equally in the habit of saying no (or at least making disapproving faces) when presented with a request that is complicated, out of my way, or otherwise not to my liking. But rather than shutting something down, I need to figure out how to think through a problem and come up with an idea that gets the needs met. I've had to learn to get much better at this time and time again with my board; managing to do that successfully in this last go-round got me some much needed staff help, when a first glance at our budget would have made that seem impossible.

One of my favorite examples of this kind of problem-solving came from my trip last fall to Vancouver. I was wowed by the design of Robson Square, which is this fascinating plaza between the art museum and a series of public court buildings. One of my favorite things about the plaza was the way that the stairs worked; at first, they just look like a simple set of stairs to the upper level.

But as you approach the stairs, you begin to see that this is no ordinary set of risers. The stairs begin to unfold into this fantastic arrangement of layers that also reveal an accessible ramp right in the midst of the steps. Visually, the arrangement is incredibly compelling, but the best part is the functionality: not only are the stairs and ramp right together - even wrapped around each other - so that there's no sense of "separate but (un)equal" paths; I think the arrangement actually privileges the accessible ramp as the easiest and potentially most attractive path for all mobility levels, even though it is longer and less direct.

I love the aesthetics of this design; but more importantly, I love the problem-solving. The whole plaza, which rises stories in the air over its entire length, is easily accessible at all levels for a variety of mobility types. Other designers might have just said that it was impossible, or created an alternate path off to the side with the usual methods. But the designer of Robson Square took on the challenge of creating an innovative, beautiful, functional path that would solve the problem with elegance instead of settling for a so-so solution.

This kind of design inspires me; it reminds me what design can be like when you go after the challenge and discover that way of doing what so many said couldn't be done. This kind of design is about truly solving the problem, not avoiding it because it is difficult. I would like to be that kind of designer, of buildings and spaces and systems, who can make all the just, beautiful places that no one thinks are possible.