The social context of CAAD in practice

Ž .Automation in Construction 10 2001 617–629www.elsevier.comrlocaterautcon

The social context of CAAD in practice

Christopher Tweed)

School of Architecture, The Queen’s UniÕersity of Belfast, 2 LennoxÕale, Belfast, N.I. BT9 5BY, UK

Abstract

The term ‘application domain’ crops up in many CAAD research papers and yet seldom is the domain described in anydetail. In the absence of a detailed understanding of the application domain, CAAD research often substitutes a typical‘designer’ or ‘architect’ as the end-user of developed systems. The end-user’s beliefs, norms, values, history and otherconcrete characteristics are rarely fleshed out beyond a stereotypical, totalising view, which serves as an ‘ideal-type’ thatoffers a psychological economy, avoiding the need for us to think too deeply about individual CAAD users. But, as anyonewho has taught architecture or worked in practice will be aware, despite many shared interests and attitudes among a givengroup of designers, there is considerable variation across individuals, not just in skills but in general disposition or ‘styles’ ofcomportment, which shape how individuals go about designing. Design research has mostly been blind to such variations.The purpose of this paper, therefore, is to begin to fashion a set of questions that will enrich our knowledge and to suggest aframework that can be used to answer them. q 2001 Elsevier Science B.V. All rights reserved.

Keywords: Design practice; Design research; Phenomenology; Architecture

1. Informing CAAD development

Our understanding of designers, architects, theiractivities, beliefs and attitudes underpins, explicitlyor implicitly, the development of CAAD systems,which are intended to find application in some do-main and assist design activities. Until recently, ap-proaches to developing CAAD systems and to estab-lishing their efficacy in an application domain havefocused on interactions between a single designerand a computer system. The rapid development ofthe Internet and networking of computers, in general,has stimulated interest on how software might bedeveloped to facilitate interaction between those en-gaged, not just in building design, but in the broader

) Tel.: q44-28-9027-4522; fax: q44-28-9068-2475.Ž .E-mail address: [email protected] C. Tweed .

building procurement process. CAAD has ‘gone so-cial.’ Perhaps, the earliest casualty of this is the‘heroic’ designer who, until recently, had been thestalwart of CAAD ‘design theory’ and to whom wehave often attributed the characteristics necessary tomake our systems seem plausible, or even usable.Despite the growing interest in collaborative design,our understanding of the social reality of architectureis limited. The purpose of this paper is to begin tofashion a set of questions that will enrich our knowl-edge and to suggest a framework, which we candevelop to answer them.

1.1. Understanding design and designers

Implicitly, or otherwise, all CAAD systems em-body a particular view of design and designers, inthe choice of representational structures, in the de-sign of the user interface and even in the targeted

0926-5805r01r$ - see front matter q 2001 Elsevier Science B.V. All rights reserved.Ž .PII: S0926-5805 00 00064-9

( )C. TweedrAutomation in Construction 10 2001 617–629618

hardware platform. Not surprisingly, therefore,CAAD research has extended and developed designresearch, which began in the 1960s. Indeed, the linksbetween design methods and CAAD are so inter-twined that it is almost impossible to separate them.It will be fruitful to consider briefly how variousresearchers have gone about gathering knowledgeabout how designers design, or what the designprocess entails to help identify possible gaps in ourunderstanding which, if filled, could inform CAADresearch. This section will review some develop-ments in CAAD-oriented design research accordingto the research aims and methods used.

The principal methods for developing understand-ings of designers and design are:

1. Interviews with designers,2. Observational studies of designers,3. Statistical surveys of architectural education and

practices,4. Thinking about design.

Only rarely will CAAD theory rely on just one ofthese sources; it is more likely that two or more willbe combined to lend greater authority to a theory.Each method has its advantages and disadvantages,and these are worth considering.

1.1.1. InterÕiews with designersDesigners themselves are a rich source of knowl-

edge about how they design and about their use ofdesign technologies in everyday design activity. Theuse of interviews assumes that designers are able toexplain their attitudes, behaviour and actions reli-ably, and that the interviewer is able to interpretresponses and pose questions that do not add unac-ceptable bias. What usually results is a researcher’sinterpreted account of what a designer believes he orshe is doing when engaged in design, or usingcomputers, for example. These results can be illumi-nating as recent studies have shown: for example,Lawson’s interviews with key architects and engi-

w xneers on a range of topics 18 ; and the study of 24architects and CAD consultants carried out by Coyne

w xet al. 7 in Australia. In both cases, the questionsand responses cover a wide range of issues. OnlyCoyne’s, however, is specifically directed towardsadding to our understanding of CAAD in practice.

But it is Lawson’s analysis that hints at the neglectedareas of design knowledge, which could be so usefulto informing future development of CAAD. For ex-ample, on the role of drawing in design, he con-

w xcludes: A designers actually find it hard to thinkw xwithout a pencil in their hand. . . . T he act of mak-

ing marks on paper seems to have mediated the floww xof thoughts and wordsB 18 , 141. It would be diffi-

cult to find stronger emphasis for the importance ofthe body in designing. And the fact that we are made

Žaware of the rich variation in the biographies age,.culture, education, etc. of his interviewees high-

lights the variety among this small group of practi-tioners.

The main criticism of interviewing as the onlysource of knowledge of a domain is that resourcesseldom permit more then a few interviews to beconducted, with the result that great care must beexercised in analysing the results from what maywell be an unrepresentative sample. Interviewingscores over other methods in identifying issues andtopics which may be followed up with other meth-ods.

1.1.2. ObserÕational studies of designersObservational studies often supplement interviews

and may be designed to determine if designers ob-served actions concur with their own accounts ofhow they design. Observational studies are also con-ducted without interviewing. The main assumptionunderlying most observational studies is that it ispossible to gain insights to designers’ internal mentalstates, attitudes and desires from their external be-haviour. The researcher, therefore, is required tomake the links, which inevitably involves interpreta-tion mediated by psychological theory. However, incontrast to the aims of cognitive psychology, someresearchers stop short of positing cognitive activityto account for behaviour and simply describe ob-served behaviour without trying to explain its ori-gins, such as in ergonomic studies.

Perhaps the earliest example of this type of inves-tigation is Eastman’s protocol analyses of the late

w x1960s 10 . Since then, the variety of observationalstudies has grown to include psychological testingw x w x17 , studies of ergonomics 4 , and in situ observa-tion of designers using proprietary CAAD systemsw x19 .

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w xLawson 17 was among the first to describe thedifferent cognitive skills required by design. Thebreadth of his study, together with its concludingchapter on computer-aided design, has made HowDesigners Think essential reading for those seekingto appreciate the complexity of the design process.However, like all approaches, it privileges a particu-lar view of design — in this case, that design ispredominantly a mental activity — which may ob-scure a richer understanding — such as theMerleau-Pontyean view that our primary way of

w xbeing-in-the-world is through the body 22 .The focus for Kathleen Carter’s study is how a

designer makes use of his or her physical workspaceand traditional tools with the declared aim of inform-ing the design of a new electronically supplementeddrawing board, the Digital Drawing Board. The pa-per concludes:

CAD is no longer seen as a replacement for paperbut rather is availabe alongside it to enhance andextend traditional methods of working at the

w xdrawing board 4 .

Now that architects are actually using CAADsystems, it is possible to conduct field studies of how

w xthey use CAAD in practice. Luff and Heath 19 , forexample, have carried out a study of designers using

Ž .a specific CAAD system MiniCAD . They concludethat existing cognitive approaches fail to address theinnovative and improvisational character of systems’use in ‘practical situations of choice’ because theyfocus on the knowledge users have of a systemrather than on how that knowledge is used Awithinthe situated accomplishment of a range of social

w xactions and activitiesB 19 .It is worthnoting that later studies of this kind

emphasise the importance of the socio-cultural situ-atedness of designers, the physicality of the design-ers’ workplaces, bodily placement and the kinaes-thetic sense that is involved in designing, areaswhich have been largely overlooked in mainstreamCAAD studies.

1.1.3. Statistical surÕeys of architectural educationand practices

This includes statistical surveys of computer us-w x w xage 13,25 and of attitudes to CAAD 23 . They

vary in length, sample size and method, and, as a

result, can produce very different understandings ofthe application domains for CAAD. While statisticalanalyses are undoubtedly useful in providing a broadpicture of what practitioners are doing, in terms of

Ž .the equipment they are or are not buying and using,they rarely offer any explanation for the findings. Asurvey of attitudes to CAAD will usually pre-codifyready-made characteristics of designers and collectinformation about each respondent such as: age, sex,education, employment record, marital status, nation-ality, job, salary, and so on. The results of such asurvey are then aggregated in a manner that destroys

w xthe integrity of individuals. Michel de Certeau 5 , inhis study of everyday life, criticises the inability ofstatistical analyses to grasp the Asignifying prac-ticesB that ‘consumers’ produce:

Statistical inquiry, in breaking down these ‘effica-cious meanderings’ into units that it defines itself,in reorganizing the results of its analyses accord-ing to its own codes, ‘finds’ only the homoge-

w xnous. 5 , xviii

Statistical surveys of CAAD in practice and edu-cation, therefore, are rarely able to explain whyCAAD has yet to radically alter design practices. Asurvey, therefore, can tell us about the general direc-tions or trends in a particular domain, but it is unableto provide the explanations or detail that will lead usto a better understanding of what individual design-ers are doing.

1.1.4. Thinking about designAll of the above approaches are essentially empir-

ical in that they attempt to understand design anddesigners by measuring or observing, and analysingthe activities, talk and behaviour of actual designers,either in ‘laboratory’ experiments or in the field.However, many CAAD researchers were once de-signers and some even continue to practise whileengaged in CAAD research. They are able to drawon the experiences of their own architectural educa-tion and, albeit reduced, experience of designing toinform their research. Firsthand design experience,though it may be reliable, is not normally convincingenough to persuade others of the value of one’s ideasor theories. It needs to get beyond the easy accusa-tion of ‘mere’ introspection and subjectivity. Theundeniable advantage is that I know my own experi-


ences better than I can ever know anyone else’s.Still, it is difficult to justify a theory which has beenderived solely from personal experience. The re-searcher in this position is invariably forced to sup-

Ž .plement his or her own observations of themselvesw xwith observations of others 15 , as well as philo-

sophical and psychological accounts of cognition,Ž .reasoning and communication language .

w xIn CAAD research, Bijl 2 has established therespectability of developing design theory by com-bining firsthand knowledge of design with extensivereadings of philosophy. This type of approach, how-ever, had already gained recognition in the wider

w xfield of human–computer interaction 9,36 , mainlyin the form of critiques directed toward claims ema-

Ž .nating from the AI Artificial Intelligence commu-nity. Not surprisingly, Bijl’s work tends to underplayany specifically architectural dimension to humanexistence, choosing instead to highlight the contribu-tion which a knowledge of design practices con-tributes to a more general understanding of interac-tions between people and computers, or ‘minds’ and‘machine’. The claim is that there is nothing ‘do-main-specific’ in architecture that can be used as thebasis for good system design, and that rather, weshould be developing systems which rely only onthose most universal characteristics of human being.This led to highly idiosyncratic system developmentat EdCAAD, as exemplified by the work on Mod-

Ž . w xelling Objects with Logic Expressions MOLE 33 .The main motivation behind this work was the per-ceived need to avoid the ‘prescriptiveness’ which

Žundermined previous CAAD systems by fixing in.software predefined definitions of design elements

and procedures, an issue which is still very much incontention today — for example, in product mod-elling.

More recently, philosophically informed critiqueshave been directed towards Computer-Mediated

Ž . Ž .Communication CMC and Virtual Reality VRand have underlined the situatedness of human be-ings in historically and culturally conditioned con-

w xtexts 6 .

1.2. Between research and practice

The methods described above have yielded, overa 30-year period, an impressive amount of informa-

tion about the design process. Yet, despite this hugeresearch effort, there remain puzzling discrepanciesbetween what CAAD researchers say about design-ers and design, and what seems to be happening inpractice. This is not to deny that progress has beenmade. CAAD is more widely used than ever before,and there are many who, having made the transitionto CAAD, would be very reluctant to revert totraditional tools. But knowing which systems arebeing used — mainly AutoCAD — and how theyare being used — for production information — onecannot help noticing that CAAD research, at least asit is carried out in universities, has had relativelylittle impact on practice. Why is this? Why has theuptake of CAAD by practitioners been so slow? Andwhy is CAAD used in practice almost exclusivelyfor 2D drafting?

One possible answer is that the systems used inpractice are simply not good enough to replace tradi-tional design media and technologies. In a widerange of contexts, it has been established that com-puting technology is unable to offer the affordances

w xof paper that are central to existing practices 30 .This answer is popular among researchers and devel-opers because it legitimises continued research intodeveloping new tools, which has been the mainstayof CAAD research, and ensures a buoyant market fornew commercial products — there is always roomfor improvement. But this answer is unable to ex-plain why some practices and practitioners embracethe technology enthusiastically while others reject it

Žwholesale, or why when arguably ‘better’ systems.are available many practices opt for ‘inferior’ sys-

tems.When we seek to explain these phenomena using

our existing ‘stock of knowledge’ of the applicationdomain, there are no ready answers. And there areother questions which few CAAD researchers ask:what actual benefits do CAAD systems bring toarchitectural practice, to architecture and to society?Answers to these may be uncomfortable, becausethey threaten to undermine the continuation of CAADresearch and development, and are diametrically op-posed to continuing calls for early-stage CAAD tools,such as computational support for design sketchingw x20 . The latter is a prime example of an unexaminedgoal of CAAD research which, for many years, hasdriven research into understanding the design pro-


cess. But why is this level of computerisation neces-sary or desirable, when sketch designing, with tradi-tional design tools, is probably the most enjoyableand prized activity for every fledgling designer?Granted, it is always difficult to predict all of thebeneficial outcomes of a research programme, andsuch studies may indeed lead to useful insights intodesign, including the null hypothesis that computer-aided sketching is neither feasible or desirable. But ifthe primary objectives for conducting such researchremain unexamined, then it is open to accusations ofmere technology push.

Many of these are, in a weak sense, ethical ques-tions. As such, they raise issues which existingCAAD research is ill-equipped to answer. The nextsection of the paper proposes a framework in whichwe might begin to explore these uncharted territoriesof CAAD in its application.

2. Three dimensions for investigating social con-text

Most of the approaches cited above favour asynchronic view of CAAD and, with the possibleexception of more philosophically oriented accounts,describe characteristics of designers at fixed pointsin time. Investigations of application domains and

Ž .potential users designers either acknowledge theirlimited shelf-life, e.g. dated surveys of CAAD usage,or claim to have discovered universal, ahistoricalcharacteristics of design or designers. Few studiessee the development of CAAD, or its applicationdomains, as a temporal process, as a process of‘becoming’, beyond the straightforward projection ofemerging techniques and hardware advances into thefuture. Existing research offers a ‘snapshot’ of activi-ties, practices or issues across a range of contempo-raneous individuals. What is missing from ourknowledge of design, and the impact of CAAD, is anaccount of how developing individuals within differ-ent, evolving application domains perceive the devel-opment of CAAD.

The phenomenological tradition in 20th-centuryphilosophy has provided a rich seam of ideas whichhas been readily adopted by CAAD researchers tounderline the historico-cultural praxis orientation of

w xdesign 2,6 , drawing on the human vs. machine

w x‘intelligence’ debate in AI 9,36 . Perhaps the great-est contribution of phenomenology, however, is itsfocus on how things Ashow upB for us against anundifferentiated, indeterminate background. Heideg-

w xger 12 , for example, is often enlisted to underminethe project of AI by highlighting the pre-reflectiveand inaccessible level of our engagement with ‘ob-

w xjects’ in the world. In contrast, Husserl 14,28Ž .Heidegger’s mentor , because of his methods ofexplicating the essential structures of human con-sciousness, has served as an inspiration for propo-nents of AI. But despite the inescapable foundation-alism of Husserl’s phenomenology, it provides auseful framework for analysing relations betweenhumans and the environing-world.

w xIn a recent book, Steinbock 32 has suggestedhow Husserlian phenomenology might be modifiedand extended to provide a useful framework forstudying ‘social reality’ without relying on Husserl’sdeeply unfashionable foundationalism. Steinbockposits three dimensions of phenomenological analy-sis: static, genetic and generative.

2.1. Static, genetic and generatiÕe phenomenologies

Fig. 1 shows how the three dimensions of static,genetic and generative phenomenology are related.

ŽHorizontal lines are intended to represent schemati-.cally the life spans of concrete individuals — in this

case, designers. A static investigation takes as itsmaterial a snapshot of contemporaneous individualsŽ .and their technologies and subjects these to the

Fig. 1. Static, genetic and generative dimensions of investigation.


kind of analysis for which Husserlian phenomenol-ogy is probably best known — investigations of howthings are given to consciousness, primarily through

Ž .perception, but also through imagining fantasy andmemory. This would include a careful analysis ofhow objects, ideas, concepts, i.e. phenomena, aregiven to us and others in our everyday activities. It

Žtakes no account of sense constitution the develop-.ment of meanings , which is derived from our

socio-historical situation. The meanings of ‘objects’,such as walls, roofs, etc., are not problematic at thisstage; they are taken for granted as part of the‘natural attitude.’ Static analyses ‘bracket’ the sub-ject’s own history and development as an individual.It should be obvious that a static analysis is, inpractice, impossible to achieve because it requiresstepping out of one’s self, thereby leaving behind allsedimented associations, to gain a detached view-point. The shortcomings of static methods of analysissuggest that we should enquire into the genesis ofmeaning both for individuals and for communities oflike-minded individuals, cultures and sub-cultures.

Individual experience is articulated by biographi-cal history. As a result of past experiences, thingstake on greater or lesser importance; they developmeanings; they appear in Aaffective reliefB andthereby have more or less significance for individu-als. It is only through our genesis that we learn to‘see’ the objects around us as objects, rather than aspatches of colour.

Genetic analyses, therefore, focus their attentionon the passive synthesis of sense and meaning,through sedimentation, association, memory, etc. Themeaning of my present experiences is, to a largeextent, dependent on what I have previously experi-enced and my general disposition towards the world.In the figure, static analysis works vertically acrossindividuals, but synchronically within a single time-frame, whereas genetic analysis expands the time-frame horizontally to account for individual develop-ment, from birth to death.

The final, least well-developed, dimension is thegenerative one, which brings into play not only thepersonal histories of individuals but the generation ofthe lifeworld across generations and within commu-nities. Generative methods work across communitiesof individuals and include not only the developmentof individual psychologies but the historical develop-

ment of traditions and cultures. Generative methodshave a close affinity with anthropology which, hav-ing begun by investigating ‘primitive’ cultures, arenow increasingly directed towards our own sphere of

w xexperience. As Geertz 11 , puts it:

We are all natives now, and everybody else notimmediately one of us is an exotic. What lookedonce to be a matter of finding out whether sav-ages could distinguish fact from fancy now looksto be a matter of finding out how others, acrossthe sea of down the corridor, organize theirsignificative world.

2.2. Homeworldralienworld

For Steinbock, the generative context is a co-gen-erated homeworldralienworld structure. The home-world is that which we feel typically familiar, ‘athome,’ with and can only be defined in relation tothat which is unfamiliar or alien. In other words, it isimpossible to have a homeworld without an alien-world, and the alienworld is defined in contrast tothe homeworld. The homeworld, crucially, definesthe practices and behaviour, which we find accept-able or normal. Furthermore, the norms of a givenhomeworld are derived from what is optimal for agiven purpose at a given time and are thereforesubject to continuous debate and revision. In Stein-bock’s terms, normative practices are always avail-able for critique and renewal. In an architecturalhomeworld, for example, every time we start a new

Ž .project, we critique and renew or reject our com-mitment to familiar, but selective, ideals of design.

There is neither space nor need to explore the fullinfluence of the homeworldralienworld structure indepth in this paper. It is enough to recognise that itoffers a powerful conceptual tool for illuminating thegenesis of attitudes and practices within the architec-tural ‘community’. This is particularly true for thedevelopment of normative behaviour in relation tonew technologies.

3. Architectural biographies

Given the above framework, how might we de-velop genetic and generative understandings for


end-users of CAAD systems? How does an individ-ual designer’s biography affect his or her attitude toCAAD? Or is it even relevant? If, as has beensuggested above, traditional knowledge of designand designers ignores the concrete detail of individu-als’ biographies, how does it affect the developmentof CAAD? Before we can begin to answer any ofthese questions, it is worth looking at previous char-acterisations or profiles of designers, which havebeen used to inform particular CAAD system de-signs and approaches.

3.1. Typical architects

In the absence of detailed studies of specificindividuals, the target of much CAAD research hasoften been the idealised type: ‘the designer’ or ‘thearchitect.’ Almost invariably, the ideal-type has beentreated as homogeneous in its properties and charac-teristics and devoid of any biographical history.CAAD, not surprisingly, frequently assumes groupsof architects — schools, practices, the profession atlarge — form homogeneous communities of like-minded people whose main activity is to designbuildings. With typification comes anonymity and

w xthe stronger the type, the greater the anonymity 29 .Abstraction follows close behind, signalling the lossof concrete descriptions of ‘the situation,’ the con-text in which end-users interact with CAAD systems.However, there have been a few attempts to getbeyond the single ideal-type and to relate character-istics of different types of designer back to CAADresearch.

w xRossis 26 , for example, classifies architects ac-cording to three types: Astars, hacks and ideal archi-tectsB. Stars are more interested in the aesthetics ofthe designs they create; hacks are concerned aboutfulfilling the practical needs of their clients; andideal architects combine both. Even this simple ty-pology acknowledges the possible differences be-tween individuals who might otherwise be assumedto share the same beliefs and attitudes to design. Butare these types likely to indicate similar attitudes toCAAD, or are they more indicative of the broaderkinds of career choices each type might consider,which might in itself encourage different attitudestoward technology?

w xPowell and Newland 24 , following the psycho-w xlogical studies by Kolb 16 , propose four different

learning styles for architects: focused, dynamic, rig-orous and contemplative. Their primary aim is todevise different ways of presenting information toarchitects tailored to their psychological profiles In-tuitively, this framework would seem to offer poten-tial guidance for CAAD system designers but it hasyet to find application in other areas of architect–computer interaction. As a tool for predicting atti-tudes to CAAD, however, it is too general.

Thus, while psychologically based typologies ofdesigners provide useful clues to the variety of atti-tudes among designers, they are unable to accountfor the particular choices individuals and groupsmake during their development. Conversely, to statethat everyone is unique is a truism with little directbenefit to CAAD research. Instead, we need to beable to identify which aspects of our uniqueness, ordifference, impacts on our attitudes to CAAD. No-ticeably absent from these studies are edifying treat-ments of age, gender, design ability and social back-ground. The genetic explanations we need to extendour understanding demand a return to more funda-mental issues of biographical development.

3.2. The becoming of indiÕiduals as architects

Talk of growing up, or the genetic developmentof individuals, immediately brings to mind the workof the reversed child psychologist Piaget. Silvermanw x31 brings together the structuralist approach ofPiaget, which is concerned to derive universallyapplicable structures that account for human growthand development, and the view of development ex-

w xpounded by Sartre 27 , which is focused upon theexistentialist theme of choice within unique, concretesituations. In true dialectical spirit, Silverman re-solves their oppositions in a new synthesis. He doesso by invoking the term pentimento — borrowedfrom painting — which describes the effect thatarises when the painter repents and paints over thepicture with another. As time passes, the previousversion begins to show through and a new synthesisof the old and new occurs. This description of indi-vidual genesis offers a conceptual device with which,potentially, we can explain how architects developfrom the earliest stages of childhood through archi-tectural education to practice, and the choices theymake along the way.


What sets an individual on the long course tobecoming an architect? My own contact withstudents reveals a wide range of motivations forstudying architecture. For some students, architectureappeals because it promises, at least for them,a well-paid, interesting career. For others, it seems tooffer a way of combining more or less equal interestsin the arts and sciences. Individual motivation will,in large measure, have been shaped by previousexperiences and the conscious choice of a ‘life pro-ject’ which may have prioritised some goals overothers, for example, personal financial security overimproving the quality of the built environment. Mul-tiple goals are not necessarily incompatible, anddifferent goals may result in the same responses tochanges in our situation. Whatever the motivation forfollowing a career in architecture, and there aremany, future choices will be made against the back-ground of a larger project, which may be revised,extended and reworked as an individual grows. Afull treatment of architectural genesis is well beyondthe scope of this paper which, instead, will focus onone major influence on the choice of design tech-nologies: the acquisition of design skills.

3.2.1. Design skillsThere is considerable literature on skill acquisi-

tion, and even more on how we acquire knowledge.In both cases, the role of the body is often under-played or ignored. The body, however, is central toMerleau-Ponty’s account of being-in-the-world,which has subsequently been used to develop theo-ries of skill and knowledge acquisition — for exam-

w xple, by Dreyfus 8 . Merleau-Ponty places the bodyat the centre of our relation to the world and argues,most pertinently for architects, that it is only throughhaving bodies that we can experience space. Asnoted above, the body is heavily implicated, not justin obviously physical design tasks, such as drawing,but in most, if not all, of the activities we routinelyperform. Design skills are corporeal as much ascognitive skills. Spatial visualisation and conceptual-isation rely on the body’s knowledge of being inspace. Because we all grow up with bodies thatdiffer in shape, size, motility and kinesthetic aware-ness, we develop different skills to different degrees.Drawing, as a skill, is usually highly idiosyncraticand the results vary accordingly. The ability to mas-

ter pencil and paper to articulate design intentionswill inevitably colour our attitudes to alternatives.CAAD, in this respect, has been a great leveller. Formany students who lack confidence in manual draw-ing, CAAD has allowed them to present designs at ahigher standard of presentation than they could havedone before. But CAAD also requires skills, in whichthe body is crucial, too. We currently have very littleunderstanding of what these skills are and how theypredispose some architects toward CAAD rather thanothers. The issue of gender is likely to enter thedebate and again bodily comportment may well besignificant.1

The shaping of comportment and acquisition ofskills begins at birth and continues throughout ourlives. With increasing subjective time we establish agenetic ‘density’ or ‘momentum’ that favourslonger-held attitudes, values, beliefs and skills suchthat it becomes difficult, as one gets older, to ridoneself of the sedimentations which have built upover the years. An individual makes associationsbetween successive events, which later shape theway in which sense constitution takes place. Futurecomportment always carries with it the imprint of itspast, which may be present to varying degrees indifferent individuals. However, it is clear that aninvestigation of genesis will not exhaust the possibleexplanations for constitution of sense and meaning.To do that will require going beyond individual toculturally defined meanings.

4. The generative contexts of architectural genesis

While no two individuals are ever identical, wecan still recognise similarities which result fromgrowing up together and sharing the same or similarexperiences. Thus, while we may distinguish be-tween those who embrace CAAD wholeheartedlyand those who reject it in toto, we rarely if everencounter someone who designs using playing cards.Values, beliefs and skills may vary from one personto the next, but there is a background of norms

1 For an extremely informative discussion of feminine styles ofbodily comportment see Iris Young’s essay AThrowing like a girlBw x37 .


belonging not to individuals but to the communitiesin which they live and work at different periods intheir genesis. Even for architects, educated at differ-ent times, there is a palpable sense of continuity,borne by a tradition that transmits values and normsfrom one generation to the next. But tradition is notassured; it requires renewal based on critique. Ap-propriation is never mere repetition, or if it is, leadsto a stagnant culture. What is normal in architecturaleducation today was not normal 10 years ago, andmay never be considered normal in practice. Thoughthey may be professionally linked, the respectivematters and methods of architectural education andpractice can be quite different. But, to backtrack, assoon as we start to posit architectural ‘communities’or ‘cultures’, the problem of definition emerges. Theextent to which architecture forms a clearly identifi-able ‘culture’ is debatable. In the UK, of course,architects are distinguished from other disciplines byprofessional status and the legal protection given tothe name ‘architect’. However, if we were to use thisas a ready-made definition of the architectural com-munity, then we would exclude some who routinelyengage in building design, but are not charteredarchitects.2 Is CAAD also targeted at them? If so,are they likely to have different needs? I do notpropose to answer these questions, but merely sug-gest that they are worth pondering in some depth. Isthe eventual aim of CAAD to produce systems,which will allow anyone to design?

Let us restrict our discussion to those who followthe established route to becoming chartered archi-tects, and consider the two principal generative ‘cul-tures’ in which they learn their craft, education andpractice.

4.1. Architectural education

w xAs I have suggested elsewhere 34 , students ofarchitecture are primarily taught to ‘see’ as archi-tects, and new technologies introduce new ways ofseeing. Architectural seeing is both a seeing througha tradition and a seeing through the technologies ofarchitectural communication.

2 Approximately 60% of planning applications submitted toNorthern Ireland planning authorities in 1994 were from non-ar-chitects.

Consider first the transmission of the architecturaltradition. Assessment of student work is carried outmainly by tutors who share similar experiences

Žamong themselves but not necessarily shared by.students and bring to the task sedimented beliefs

and practices which they have built up over theireducation and working life. Because of age differ-ences, there will undoubtedly be differences aboutwhat they think good architecture should be, andeven within the same age group, there is likely to beconsiderable divergence. However, the number offundamental disagreements between design tutors isusually small and, on the few occasions when thereis persistent disagreement between individuals, it canoften be attributed to a clash of personalities in agood, old-fashioned, egotistical power struggle. Incontrast, few students entering their first year ofarchitectural education will have had much architec-tural experience and many are unable to name spe-cific architects or buildings, which have inspiredthem and are frequently unable to say in any preciseterms why they have chosen to study architecture.Most, therefore, will be relatively free from thearchitectural ‘worldview’ they are expected to ac-quire during their university education. They are notyet part of the architectural ‘homeworld’ and so arenot regarded by tutors as ‘homecomrades.’

During their education, students may set concretegoals which may have little to do with design. Forexample, a plausible goal is simply to pass thecourse, and some students quickly become adept atmanipulating staff to ensure that the work they pro-

Žduce coincides with dominant in terms of assess-.ment staff members’ views about architecture,

whether Modernist, Postmodernist, organic, etc.Likewise, if CAAD is not viewed as important withina school — crucially, as contributing significantly tothe success or failure of a student — then it may beavoided by those students who wish to ‘get through’with minimum effort, or by those who, in adoptingnorms perpetuated by some staff, believe that CAADis a distraction from the main business of design.Thus, the ‘reasons’ for developing or denying aninterest in CAAD are complex, but are often rootedin the very concrete concerns of everyday life in anarchitecture school. Individual students’ decisionsabout whether to take a CAAD elective, which isoften how CAAD is still taught, may be influenced


by factors which have little or nothing to do with thetechnology. What if CAAD is compulsory? Depend-ing on specific course requirements — the balanceof practical vs. written work, for example, individualstudents may pass a CAAD course without engagingwith software for more than a few hours, and eventhen only to complete a set of simple exercises.

In many schools, CAAD suffers from a poorimage among students and staff alike. Those whospecialise in using computers or spend long periodsworking with computers are labelled ‘nerds’ or‘geeks’ by staff and student colleagues, and there isan enduring view that time spent at a workstation iswasted design time. In a rather odd inversion of thelay view, those who work with manual design tech-

Ž .nologies pencil and paper are often seen as beingsuperior to those who acquire the specialised skillsof working with computers. These views are rein-forced by prevalent attitudes in wider society: spend-ing too much time at a computer is inherently un-healthy. And they may be right. The point is thatthese issues are rarely debated by the CAAD com-munity. They are somehow considered to be separatefrom the main business of developing yet moresystems.

Architectural education, as the primary route toentering the profession, shows many of the hallmarksof appropriating a ‘homeworld’ — the acquisition of

Ža special language and skills, rites of passage ex-.aminations and an appreciation of ‘good’ architec-

ture, transmitted through a fairly narrow canon ofworks by exemplary architects, which distinguishesarchitects from non-architects. It is the appropriationof the traditions of the homeworld, which establisheswho is and who is not an architect, rather than themuch narrower requirements of professional valida-tion. An essential part of that homeworld is thetechnology that is used to express design intention.The decision to use CAAD is clearly not simplyrelated to the functionality of hardware and softwarebut is part of a much larger context.

4.2. Architectural practice

At any given time, the world of practice is popu-lated by architects whose educational and profes-sional experiences are different and whose skills incommunicating designs, to themselves as well as to

others, may vary considerably. Today, this is mostpronounced for CAAD. Senior practitioners, includ-ing many principals, will generally have had littledirect contact with CAAD technology. Their genetic

Žmomenta prohibit the easy acquisition of what for.them is an alien technology. It is quite literally not

normal.A previous paper outlined some fundamental dif-

ferences between reading design descriptions pre-sented through different media — either on paper or

w xon a screen 35 . By placing this earlier work ingenetic and generative contexts, it is possible toexplain the continued persistence of paper-basedtechnologies: they provide optimal affordances fordescribing designs. The constitution of a traditionŽ .homeworld is essentially achieved through the cri-tique and renewal of accepted norms. Architecturalpractice is saturated with such norms, around whicharchitectural praxes evolve. A recent study of archi-

w xtectural drawing technologies 21 traces the devel-opment of drawing media, and the correspondingmark-making instruments: from linen — used in theearlier part of this century — through tracing paperand acetate, to CAAD. McMeel’s study highlightsthe skills required to work with each of these mediaand suggests that a major disincentive for usingCAAD among many practitioners is because of thenew skills required to draw with a computer. CAAD,unlike manual drawing, requires a continual updatingof skills to accompany new releases of software.While the changes between one version and the nextare generally small, CAAD systems are locked intochanges in hardware and operating systems, whichdemand further re-learning.

A related concern within established and rela-tively conservative practices may be that whoevermasters the tools of design communication also con-trols the language of design. It is these suspicions ofan earlier generation of architects, without CAADskills, which underline the lack of a shared base fromwhich CAAD can gain a foothold in practice. Now,when stated in this way, this may seem rather obvi-ous, but it is rarely made explicit in discussionsabout CAAD.

Another social fact, which has undoubtedly deter-mined the extent of CAAD usage in practice, is thatdepending on circumstances in a specific firm, de-sign only accounts for a small part of the organisa-


tion’s time and effort. Many young graduates ques-tion the centrality of design in education once theydiscover that in practice they are lucky if they spend10–20% of their time designing. Design, therefore,is just one aspect of practising as an architect — andoften a relatively minor one at that — even if thegeneral perception of what architects do, from out-side the profession, is the opposite. Other activitiesinclude negotiating with contractors over disputesarising from problems on site, site supervision, col-lecting fees, finding new work, managing staff, andbalancing the books. The priorities of practitionersmay be radically different to those which CAADresearchers imagine. The success of CAAD, when ithas been adopted, is not in design but in assisting thepreparation of production information, a task which

Ž .generally requires more effort and costs more thandesign. The lack of 3D modelling in practice isexplained by the fact that it demands more effortthan is currently invested in design and is not cost-effective because most clients are unwilling to payfor the additional staff time and computing re-sources. Modelling of designs in 3D, as far as princi-pal practitioners are concerned, is not normal, pre-cisely because it is rarely optimal.

The view expressed in the early days of CAADwas that CAAD systems could save designers timeby reducing the ‘donkey’ work which was assumedto accompany the preparation of drawings and man-aging updates and revisions. This would then free updesigners time such that they could spend more timedesigning. What has actually happened is almost theexact opposite of this. CAAD is now ‘sold’ as partof an efficiency drive that will increase the through-put of the office, allowing it to take on more workand employ fewer staff. This prompts us to considerbriefly in the final part of the paper the changingcontext in which architecture is practiced.

4.3. The changing role of architects

The overriding concern of architectural practicemust be to remain financially solvent. How one doesthis depends on the socio-economic culture and poli-tics of the day.

Over the past decade, the construction industryhas undergone a major change. For the most part,

this has been driven by the need to produce high-qu-ality buildings, for less cost and more quickly. Thearchitectural profession has suffered a series of set-backs from which it is still reeling. Because of theperceived inability of architects to bring contracts inon time, and at cost, coupled with new construction

Ž .legislation e.g. CDM , a new breed of constructionprofessional has emerged: the project manager, whoexerts considerable control over the design as well aseventual construction of buildings. The aim of in-creasing efficiency in the construction industrystretches wide and far and is explicitly supported bymajor research funding; for example, the EPSRC’sConstruction as a Manufacturing Industry and theLINK programme, Integrated Design and Construc-

Ž .tion IDAC . CAAD, as an innovative technology,features prominently in these research agendas andproposals. It is seen as offering one of the best hopesto yield the 30% reduction in costs sought by theLatham report. And it is probably capable of doingso, but at a price.

The consequences of a relentless pursuit of effi-w xciency and profit are best captured by Borgmann 3

in Crossing the Postmodern DiÕide, in which he usesthe term ‘hyperactivty’ to describe what most of usin Western culture have been taught to aspire to inadult life but, paradoxically, are chided for in ourchildhood. The symbol of virtue for the Westernworld is the workaholic who, by embracing the latesttechnologies, is able to increase his or her productiv-ity. Ill-health is a sign of weakness, as is any sign ofsloth. The alternative, for those who reject this as alife project, is sullenness. As Borgmann points out,the first act of hyperactivity is the suspension ofcivility, closely followed by an intolerance of moreplacid humans. Attention to the particular, sensitivityto individuals and places are diametrically opposedto a culture of hyperactivity, but are the stock-in-tradeof much of what modern architectural practice isabout. Hyperactivity fashions new norms that arebigger than those of architecture alone. Thus, we seearchitects and CAAD researchers eventually suc-cumbing to the current of hyperactive thinking. Some,apparently having given up any hope of understand-ing, the idiosyncrasies of heterogeneous designersappear to have adopted the view that if CAADcannot support the idiosyncrasies of design then

w xdesign must change to fit CAAD 1 .


Maybe this is inevitable, because in the 30-yearhistory of CAAD research, no one has come up witha detailed, convincing description of what an idealCAAD system might look like. Of course, we havebeen given glimpses of super-intuitive systems thatwill assist the designer, but mostly these have been‘technological push’ of the latest techniques toemerge from Computer Science or AI towards archi-tectural problems. There is no abiding, coherent viewof what designers want from CAAD, nor can therebe until we take on board the full context into whichCAAD systems will be introduced.

5. Conclusion

This paper has argued that the use of CAAD inarchitecture is a complex affair which is influencedby many parameters. It has been argued that inseeking to increase our knowledge of design anddesigners, we should not rely on the ideal-type of‘architect’ or ‘designer.’ The world in which archi-tecture is designed, built and experienced is a socialworld in which meanings are constructed and re-newed as much through social interaction as byindividuals in isolation. The homeworld of architec-ture and CAAD is not homogeneous but exhibits adiversity which is seldom reflected in our descrip-tions of end-users. If we are to understand whyCAAD is adopted or rejected by the profession thenwe need to examine the broader picture of howarchitecture is practiced. The tools for doing so arestill largely missing. However, as a starting point,this paper has suggested that we critically appropri-ate and apply three dimensions of phenomenologicalmethod: static, genetic, and generative. Within eachmethod, the human body is seen to play a centralrole, by providing our primary means of being in theworld.

As we begin to examine the wider contexts inwhich CAAD is introduced, operated and promoted,we begin to develop an enriched understanding ofthe incentivesrdisincentives for individuals andpractices. Widening the scope further still reveals amuch stronger volitional element to computer tech-nology and the efficiency gains it promises. Many ofthese larger movements are potentially hostile toarchitecture, at least as it has been practiced in the

past. Architects are caught between adopting thetechnology to improve their own profitability orrejecting it and suffering the consequences of in-creasing marginalisation. Some years ago, Aart Bijlcited a principal reason for architects to adopt com-puter technology as being the need to keep abreast ofothers who would adopt the technology ahead ofthem, rather than in any inherent superior support fordesign activity which computers may provide. Eventswould appear to have proved him right.

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Documents

The social context of CAAD in practice