A Growing City

by Emily Moisan
KU Architecture Class of 2008

New Orleans is changing. Both in my perception and in reality. The first time I visited New Orleans, it was because I wanted to go to school there; to experience life that was radically different from the suburban, Midwestern life I have known. That first time, though, I experienced very little of the city, seeing no more than the Garden District and the French Quarter.

Then, the city, for me, was gay. An air of festivity hung in the air just as the Mardi Gras beads still hung in the branches of the graceful live oaks. Traveling by streetcar seemed quaint, street musicians added to the lightness of spirit, and I decided then that I liked the city. Looking back at that image in my head, though, I realize that it was a sugar-coated reduction of the city in reality.

For school, I ended up in Kansas rather than in New Orleans, so thankfully, I was not immediately affected by Hurricane Katrina. Still, she challenged me to help the city she had destroyed.

Last spring, my studio in Kansas focused on New Orleans. We entered the competition to design a prototype for housing to help rebuild the city. We studied the housing types in the city and consequently, we learned about its history. We saw how it developed by blending together diverse cultures, making New Orleans unique among American cities.

The second time I visited New Orleans, it was to deliver the shade structure our class had designed for a community garden in the Seventh Ward neighborhood. Nine months had passed since the storm. I think I expected the city to be recovered by then.

This time, I saw much more of the city. Devastation and poverty struck me in the face. Across from our site, there was a park of FEMA trailers and a huge pile of rubbish and trash. That angered me—how can anyone, the people or the government, just leave a pile of garbage across the street? The people in the neighborhood seemed glad to have us there, but I felt sick. At school we had talked about helping to rebuild New Orleans, but how does putting up a pretty pavilion in a garden help when whole neighborhoods were destroyed by flooding and the people who live in them have no money to rebuild themselves? No one seemed to be doing anything.

On the way back to Kansas, I talked with my professor about how a few students in Kansas can help rebuild New Orleans. How could we begin to make an impact? The shade structure is something of a symbolic gesture. We didn't have the resources to build a house. Even if we did, how would that help? One family would have a place to stay while all the neighbors did not. We were trying to help a whole neighborhood--to give them something to be proud about. It would be a place to meet and plan and help each other, like neighborhoods in New Orleans have always done.

I returned for a third time this February with a new architecture studio to learn more about the city and the neighborhood we will work in. I was pleasantly surprised at the way New Orleans is slowly coming back to life. Frankly, I had not expected much with the way the government is pointing fingers and all we hear on the news is that the crime rate has gone up. One night on this trip, we were able to see the Krewe des Vieux parade--the first of the season. That gaiety I had experienced the first time I came to New Orleans was there again as crowds joined in the festivities, but there was a sadness to it, the sadness of laughter just after a funeral.

I doubt that New Orleans will ever be the same as it was before Hurricane Katrina. I know I will never see it the same way. But now I have spent time in one neighborhood, getting to know it. And I have seen the resiliency of its people, rooted to their land and ready to fight to grow back against all odds. It is because of those people and their love for their city that I have hope for New Orleans.

Creating a Community Stage

by Simon Mance
KU Architecture class of 2007

In a design/build studio there are many tremendous opportunities as well as conflicts: To be a part of something that can be seen by the public, but designed by you; debate for hours about the size or material of "the flaps," as we liked to call them; or weld two-inch steel tubes to a fourteen-foot trailer. Whatever the task, it was finished. As a team we worked and designed to be a part of a building community rarely seen or experienced by an architecture student.

Traveling to New Orleans was tiring, exciting and heart wrenching all at the same time. Almost a year after Hurricane Katrina there was a sense of "ghost town" to the Mardi Gras capital. Meeting with the client, The Porch Organization, and providing some landscaping needs really warmed our friendship right away, despite temperatures in the low nineties. They explained to us that they were in need of a community stage that would be used as a catalyst for rebuilding in their community, the Seventh Ward. The stage would act as a performance center in the yard adjacent to the newly acquired Community Center.

Back in Lawrence, we hit it off with design schemes for a community stage that could be deployable, sustainable or mobile. We eventually agreed that the stage would have to be mobile (but some parts were deployable!) because otherwise there would be great difficulty in transporting the stage to the site. Design continued, and we purchased a trailer to be the body of the project. Another great thing about design/build studios is that because we were working for a non-profit organization we had to raise most of the funds ourselves. This meant a great amount of time was put toward seeking out businesses that could donate materials or money. Yemm & Hart, a company that produces recycled rubber, donated some materials that would be used as decking to make the stage surable and safe. Other ways of making money included a giant party (come on, we are college students) at a local brewery with prizes to try and raise funds for our stage.

With most of the money raised, we purchased materials and began building prototypes. Prototypes became the most important part of the design work. Without prototypes the designer and the builder cannot see the product or outcome and then make changes based on the prototype. Therefore the learning experience evolves from paper to computer to prototypes. And it doesn't stop there either.

Over the months of working in the warehouse on West Campus, which became our second home, temperatures dropped and we had to work extra long hours to complete the project in time for the semester's end. I was part of the team that cut the steel tubes. This was a crucial role in the completion of the stage. If the angles were not perfect then the pieces would not fit in their jigs. We had only so much steel to work with and we could not afford to mess up. One problem with the large group and the teams is that when one team finished their shift and the next team came in to begin, the next team didn't know where to pick up where the last group started. Therefore, communication became a key factor in the success of the project. Schedules were laid out and dates were made for completions. This kept the teams in constant communication with each other.

Working with actual materials gave me a confidence in architecture like I had never experienced. I began to understand the process of building. Even if it wasn't a house or on a construction site, this was building, this was architecture. I began to pay attention to detail because each decision was a design choice, down to the welds and details for the lettering. Piece by piece the stage was coming together and the group knew it. We could feel a sense of joy and pride.

Taking part in the design/build studio left me looking for more opportunities in my community whether it was Habitat for Humanity or DesignCorp. I was eager to begin another hands-on project. There is something about working with actual materials, budgets, and clients that brings architecture to life.

Designing the Shed

by Lindsay Kenkel
KU Master's in Architecture class of 2007

"A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."

- Antoine de-Exup'ery

In a sense, this quote couldn't be more truthful when it comes to the 2006 New Orleans studio project. Throughout the project there was a contagious sense of pride and ambition but also a bit of false reality. Everyone came into the project extremely hopeful and excited that we were going to change the world and rebuild New Orleans all by ourselves. We didn't care what the project entailed or how much it cost; it was going to get done in four months, under budget, and everyone was going to hold hands at the end and smile. This kind of energy was great at the beginning, but in retrospect, I think we used it going down the wrong avenues. With so many strong personalities in our group and a professor that wanted us to 'figure it out' on our own, the New Orleans project became more of a people learning experience than a building one.

Learning to respect others as a team member and not a threat was a huge challenge for me and others. With small groups all attempting to create the best design, listening to everyone else's ideas became almost a threatening experience. What if our idea was cancelled out? Would I be just as prideful of the project if I had nothing to do with the design? I think what I came to realize by the end was even though my idea was not in big bold letters across the front, small aspects of everyone's thinking and care was put into the project. Throughout the semester, images of suffering and people with nothing but hope was almost a drowning experience, a constant subliminal message in the back of our heads. It almost felt like if we didn't create something beautiful and expensive it wouldn't give this suffering justice. But I think we learned as a team to put our own pride aside and refocus this message into everything we did — from fundraising to building.

My biggest lesson throughout the New Orleans project process was taking away does not mean making worse. The people of New Orleans needed a start, not a miracle. Realizing this allowed everyone to do their best with what we had and what we could achieve. In the end, taking away from the extravagance and creating something simple really was the most beautiful gesture. Giving the people something to provoke the questions and not handing them the answer was one of the biggest challenges of the semester. I think we were successful in most of our initial ambitions. I learned the value of listening to others and speaking with effort and teamwork rather than words. I think we as a group did 'figure it out.' There is a sense of humble pride in everyone from the New Orleans project. I am honored to be a part of it and grateful to have learned from it.