How Buildings Learn: What Happens After They're Built

I'd make How Buildings Learn mandatory reading for everybody. It's that good.

We spend a lot of time in buildings, but the fact is many buildings are pretty awful. Expensive yet shoddily constructed, full of hidden decay, boring and monotonous, wasting space, and poorly adapted to the climate. Brand's approach to improving buildings is characteristically counter-intuitively Brand; look at the old buildings that have survived and try and find out why they've survived and why they're loved. He does so with clever insights and a succession of photographs taken from the same place over long periods of time to show how different buildings evolve.

McLoving It is McMandatory

Borrowing from architect Frank Duffy, Brand defines a building at show more several levels. Site is the location and the property lines, as close to permanent as anything humans can make. Structure is the basic frame, the trusses and pillars, which should be good for centuries. Skin separates the inside from the outside, and should last decades before weather and fashion demand major replacement. Services are the utilities, plumbing, electrical, and all the gadgets that make life livable, which tend to last several years. And finally, there's the interior partitions of the space plan and all the stuff of furniture and décor, which is easily modifiable by the inhabitants.

There are two major paths towards being a successful building. The obvious one is named the High Road, landmark structures like English country houses and the Boston Athenæum, where centuries of money and good taste under careful supervision have aided a grand journey towards beloved classic. The other option is the Low Road, structures so cheap and obviously shoddy that no one cares about what happens to them, so they're quickly suited to the needs of their occupants. Brand has a deep love for the hippie compound growing organically off of an initial trailer through accretion and connection of various sheds, or its commercial counterpart in the early 20th century light industrial space, where ample natural light and a solid yet sparse steel frame provide a useful starting ground for second and third acts as professional offices, high end retail, or trendy loft apartments.

One of the better section is a direct comparison of MIT's beloved Building 20, aka the Rad Lab, a WW2 era "temporary" structure which survived until the 1990s, against the trendy I.M Pei designed Media Lab building. Building 20 was long fingers of heavy wood construction, endlessly modifiable by its occupants, where the crudity of the structure created a convivial sense that this was where real work was done. The Media Lab is a modernist monster centered around an inhuman atrium, full of specialist spaces devoted to experiments ended before the building opened. It's impossible to meet anyone, competition for what useful space there is is fierce, and in a final screw you, the fluorescent lights are angled at 45 degrees to the walls, making it difficult to reshape the space.

Brand is savage towards the forces he believes are killing good buildings. He decries architects who designs buildings that play with form and space to make striking photographs, rather than humane and durable structures for their inhabitants. The failure of architects to make workable buildings has lead to the rise of paraprofessional construction managers and facilities managers, who patch up the bad ideas as best they can. Zoning and codes, which strangles construction in paperwork and a civic masterplan that is a bureaucratic utopia of rules, are a sure way to create buildings which are neither High Road nor Low Road, but simply mediocre.

The book is full of useful adages and asides. There's a mea culpa on domes from the Whole Earth Catalog era. Domes are impossible to seal against rain and waste space in innumerable ways. Buildings are destroyed by water, markets, and money. Keep the first two away, and feed the latter in small amounts. The Mediterranean courtyard house is a classic design, but another useful model is the northern European three corridor house, with a large central nave and smaller private rooms under the eaves. Stick to rectangular forms, because they're easy to modify and extend. Overbuild Structure and make Services accessible, because at some point you'll have to get at the pipes and wires, and later occupants may want to add another story. When in doubt, you can always use more storage. To build for the long term, trust in stone, brick, and stout hardwood. Use local materials, and be suspicious of new plastics. A good material will tell you that it needs attention before it fails. Take photographs of the studs, plumbing, and wiring before putting up drywall, because it'll help you later. And for the love of all that is holy, get a good roof, because water will destroy your house in a single season. Simple angled designs shed rain, where flat roofs cause constant problems.

This book isn't flawless. Brand elides the useful role of codes in having buildings that don't catch routinely fire, or not putting an explosive fertilizer factory next to to an elementary school. He is more favorable to the historic preservation movement than I am after decades of weaponized NIMBYism. But there is a lot of pragmatic advice, and the 1990s "End of History" optimism has aged to become its own charming relic. My only wish is that at 25 years on we could get an updated bibliography, but I'm sure that many of Brand's choices are actual classics, and worthy of their own reads. show less

I finally read this book after stumbling across it, oversized, on a library shelf. I had it on my reading list that I (used to) keep updated on my Palm Pilot, for a while. Twice, in fact, as it had been recommended from a couple different sources, and when I went to browse the list again, I realized I was removing it from the list for the second time. It was a very good book, achieving what so few nonfiction books do - explaining a subject so well that almost all of the lessons carried over to dozens of examples more of interest to me personally. The subject at hand was the evolution of buildings over time, a subject that had no specific interest to me, but since the book came so highly recommended, from so many sources, when I saw it I show more checked it out.

Essentially there are no permanent solutions for buildings that are worth having - If it's doesn't adapt, it's obsolete before it's complete. Given this, there are two opposite models that Brand proposes are worthwhile; temporary buildings, and permanent ones. Seriously, the two working paradigms are buildings built over generations, and building so obviously deficient that they are treated as permanent projects. The first category includes buildings like feudal manors, where each addition is the permanent addition of an individual to a family tradition. The second are buildings that was designed to be temporary, such as building 20 at MIT built during WWII as a temporary building that is still standing, in which the occupants feel free to make "improvements," such as nailing up shelves wherever they need them, or inserting extra staircases, etc.

Another theme in the book was that short term planning for an object that is intended for the long term is, well, stupid. And recommended against. More money is spent changing existing buildings than building new ones. I am pretty sure the same applies to computer code,
and many other fields. The solution to this type of problem is to separate and layer different aspects - the load bearing elements should not be in the way of any conceivable floor plan, since the floor plan will change more than the structure. If architecture is seen as art, modernist styles are disastrous because they tend to experiment, and like all experimentation, fail often. This is acceptable unless failures must be used - in architecture this is true.

And of course, like any good book, it makes fun of somebody. The lessons here? Flat roofs are stupid - the reason they slant roofs is to get the water off. Flat roofs fail to do this. Fashionability is a bad thing when the building outlasts the trend. And, of course, most importantly, geodesic domes were a miserable idea, but everyone was high enough while talking about it so that they didn't notice. show less

On page 188, in a caption to an 18th century architecture drawing and a still from a 20th century television commercial, Brand says, "A building is not something you finish. A building is something you start." This statement pretty much sums up Brand's attitude to buildings as well as his problem with architects who are convinced of an ideal state of completion for a particular building. It's a short statement but one that signals a major change in thinking, one that has taken a bit more effect since the book was initially published in 1994. There are plenty of architects who embrace change in their designs, and many architects are misinterpreted as unable to accept change given the way their buildings are represented (what architect, show more whose every building changes its context, would not be open to change in their own work?), but Brand, like Christopher Alexander and others of the same ilk, takes aim at (modern) architects for the problems of the built realm. Normally I'd find this stance annoying, but Brand, perhaps because he's not trained as an architect, or maybe because he writes in a common-sense manner, has the idea of transformation at the heart of the book, not attacking a particular dogma...even if he may critique the Pompidou or some other modern building along the way in favor of humble vernacular buildings.

What I like best are Brand's discussions of "programming" in the architectural sense of the word (determining what functional spaces go into a building and, to a lesser degree, how). Brand acknowledges that designing a building without a program does not yield the best results, though he offers an alternative for traditional programming. Ideally, the best result for one purpose will enable the building to be used for a longer period of time, particularly if some forethought and flexibility are considered at the programming stage. Brand's variation on programming is "scenario planning," which I should really reread (the first time was a while ago) since his ideas on finding solutions that give buildings the longevity they should have is particularly important now that resources are more and more scarce and the embodied energy of buildings is so valuable. show less

Why do some buildings successfully adapt to new uses over time, while other buildings fail? Using photographs and descriptive chronologies, author Brand analyzes the qualities that allow some buildings to usefully adapt to new purposes, occupants, technological and cultural change over time. Brand explains why buildings designed by architects are often less adaptable for other purposes than vernacular buildings, and he makes practical suggestions for improving building architecture and design.

I lived through the planning and construction of the 1982 World’s Fair in Knoxville, Tennessee. I remember the hoopla surrounding the U. S. Pavilion and its innovative and futuristic design. I also remember the years after the World’s Fair as show more Knoxville looked for a buyer for the U.S. Pavilion and other iconic fair buildings. Eventually, almost all of them were demolished when they failed to sell. The Sunsphere remains one of the last reminders of the World’s Fair, but it hasn’t been a successful building, either. (One of its biggest problems is its location. Why would you build an observation tower in one of the lowest points in downtown Knoxville?) This book answers questions I’ve had for years about the World’s Fair site. The buildings were designed for a specific purpose and were not easily or economically adaptable to other uses. In the end, the land was more valuable than the structures.

Who should read this book? Homeowners. Business owners. School administrators. Facilities managers. It’s a book many readers will want to keep and refer to repeatedly. Most people spend most of their time in buildings, and the more we understand about our buildings, the better we can make them work for us. show less

Stewart Brand's How Buildings Learn is half detailed analytical study of real buildings, half manifesto. Brand brings front and center the crucial features of real buildings that architects for the most part love to sweep under the rug, or rather love to sweep under the gleaming mock-ups they parade about to naive clients: how well do buildings really serve their intended purposes after they're complete? How are they changed over time as the demands on them inevitably change, often radically? How hard -- and costly -- is it to make these changes? This added fourth dimension, i.e. time itself, is the source of remarkably rich insights, over and over, as Brand analyzes the lives of real buildings as they age and adapt -- or die.

Brand also show more skewers the whole profession of modernist-dominated architecture with true aim and vigor. If you've ever been involved in a building project, or if you will be, you will never look at an architect in quite the same way again -- and neither should you. Brand's criticisms of architects' egotism, contempt for clients and neighborhoods, and quixotic and destructive rage for making a mark by being 'original' are right on.

I would give this book six stars if I could. show less

My approach is to examine buildings as a whole -- not just whole in space, but whole in time. Some buildings are designed and managed as a spatial whole, none as a temporal whole. In the absence of theory or standard practice in the matter, we can begin by investigating: What happens anyway in buildings over time? [2]

Brand posits a view of buildings as defined by 6 distinct layers (adding to 4 from Frank Duffy). Duffy counseled: Imagine not a monolithic edifice, instead four layers of 'built components' with each layer aging at a different rate. Over time, they will shear apart unless they are able to adapt to both external pressures and internal stresses. [12-13] It is a design imperative to separate the layers to allow for adaptive show more change, for instance ensuring simple upgrades to conduits and plumbing. [20] It is sensible to think about the nature of these external and internal forces, whether changing real estate or neighbourhood standards or an expanding family, and accommodate them.

• Site
• Structure (Duffy = Shell)
• Skin
• Services (Duffy)
• Space Plan (Duffy = Scenery)
• Stuff (Duffy = Set, primarily furniture)

Added to this outlook is Brand's preference for buildings which succeed either by meeting a specialised purpose through long-term adaptation, becoming ever more suited to that purpose (High Road); or, which succeed by prioritising function and flexibility over any preset design, aesthetic, or even purpose (Low Road). Primarily he looks to vernacular designs. Perhaps this focus indicates an ultimate preference for Low Road, and an intention to redress the imbalance exemplified in such cultural icons as Architectural Digest.

All of this seemingly condensed into the 3L rule, introduced in 1972 by Alex Gordon: Long life, loose fit, low energy. [57] Brand also refers multiple times to the Pattern Language of Christopher Alexander and his colleagues, and notes the affinities with preservation efforts and regular, mindful maintenance. At one point, Brand draws a parallel between successful building adaptation and Batesonian cybernetics. [167]

It seems to me that the best designs are those which accommodate the most contradiction. Looked at the other way, the most boring design is that which is directed at a simple, well-defined future. A lot of New Age music exemplifies this, as does, for me, Le Corbusier. They are both addressed to simple world pictures, and to simple ideas about how humans behave and what they want. [189, quoting Brian Eno]

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Brand's appreciation for vernacular and hybrid design now informs my outlook in keeping up my home, and not merely as a measure by which to evaluate buildings I see around me. Later chapters discuss strategies for builders and architects as well as owner-occupants: scenario planning, financing alternatives to conventional mortgages, adopting methods most suitable for later adaptation and changing.

More broadly, Brand's general outlook underpins my take on architecture, to some extent in articulating a sensibility already held but not closely examined, and partly in introducing new concepts. A commonplace of architecture, I thought, was the ideal of melding function and beauty. It's interesting to read that Modernism receives a good amount of criticism if not outright scorn for jettisoning utility (buildings leak, can't maintain a livable environment, feature layouts which impede occupants), when a plebeian criticism was that Modernist buildings are all function and no beauty.

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The wide format is well suited to the content, which features a great many diagrams and photos, but not easily read except at table, nor easily notated in margins or back pages as my custom. There exists a six-part BBC Television series hosted by Brand, as well. show less

An eye-opener of a book that shocks the reader with its detailed comparisons of archival photographies and the reasons behind many building modifications. His long-term view transforms buildings into quasi-living entities that learn from their inhabitants and constantly evolve to suit their needs. Looking at some of the book’s photographs of the same building throughout the decades is like watching the ever-shifting clouds in the sky: You can tell it is the same cloud you saw a minute ago, it feels the same, and yet you can barely recognize it now.

It’s a very enjoyable book, and relevant not only to architecture but to any design field. As an Amazon commenter pointed out, simply substituting “building” for “software” in the show more text gives you an excellent essay on software development. I can imagine it offering the same benefits for many other professions. show less