Future Perfect

Sunday was Earth Day. Like Memorial Day, and all the other holidays, the designation of a day is meant to trigger a concentration of thought on the event, generally a remembrance. Earth Day is a reminder of our precarious balance on this earth, but also the call to action for a better future - a future perfect. This is a verb form which calls on something to be done at some point in time in the future (I will have built a totally resource-neutral building by XXXX), which put some definite targets into otherwise idealistic dogma. I also like the tugging at the analogy of the “Striving for Perfection,” which comes to us from Toyota. Thus, we set targets for future accomplishments, each one striving to outdo the last. This, I believe is the spirit of sustainable prosperity.

 

I have been thinking about the shape of that future perfect. I had the occasion to visit some very visionary redevelopment in England, and was quite inspired by the “futuristic” aspect of it. Had a Jetson-type hovercraft appeared around the corner, it would have fit right in. Yet, it also felt a bit lifeless - which may have well been due to the persistent cold and windy weather. But that weather is not uncommon there. Was that taken into account? Ever since the mid 50’s, with the flourishing of technology and development of ‘space-age’ material, we have experimented with futuristic architecture. The enclosed box steel/glass structures of the 70’s are mostly remembered as failed experiments which largely resulted in sick-building syndrome and lower productivity. But starchitects still seems to be fascinated with hard surfaces, minimalism, “futuristic” design. Yet, when given the freedom of choice for a vacation – where do we go? Mountains, lakesides… where the preferred architecture is often vernacular, full of texture, color, shape. Even holiday trips to cities, for nightlife or shopping, are anchored in hotels which tout their personal service, soft beds, and human touches.

 

Shopping gallery - protected
from wind and rain

The future perfect we are creating is really about survival of humanity within a planetary equilibrium. A human experiences the physical environment through al l 5 senses, as well as emotional connections. Ever since the industrial revolution, we have been enamored with machines and the amazing precision of mass-manufactured goods. But the era of the one model of black Fords is over, and no one ever said that machines could only produce bare-bones goods. I’m delighted to see the emphasis on ergonomics, and human ecology in the design of manufactured goods. For example, kitchen utensils can be viewed as having value not just by the function alone, but in the ease of use, of maintenance (cleaning), and the aesthetics. Mass production can be paired with good design, and fabrication balanced with craft.

mass-produced, beautiful,
functional, durable

Bryan Welch proposed the following in the building of the world we want:  

- Is it beautiful... does it make you smile?
- Does it create abundance... life-cycle resource management?
- Is it fair .... socially responsible, sustainable?
- Is it contagious ...  does it make others want to do (make) the same?

These questions allow us to transcend decisions based on mere cost or function, avoid getting trapped in the design debates between futurists and preservationists, and allow us to reintroduce humanity in all decisions. This is a perspective which can apply to my everyday choices as well as business decisions, building design and building construction. With these guidelines in mind, I’m eager to start on this future perfect.

Dealing with Damp

Go to the source. Good advice not just for dealing with moisture, but also for learning how to deal with it. For example, the British have years of experience of dealing with wet, cool conditions. They also have plenty of old stone or brick buildings. So it was a perfect source for my continued search for a solution to a problem with rising damp (see earlier lessons from Switzerland).


A good place to start is the ‘Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings.’ I can’t help but note that it was founded in 1877 to protect medieval buildings from highly destructive ‘restoration,’ and so am inclined to believe that they’ve figured out a thing or two over the years. Apparently in the U.K., damp-proof courses have been required in walls since 1875, and damp-proof membranes in floors since the 1960’s. In the US, Lstiburek and Co. proposed capillary breaks between footing and foundations, a detailing which we urged the ICF builders to adopt.

Laws notwithstanding, there seemed to be plenty of work for retrofitting buildings for rising damp. The standard procedure has been to drill into a course of bricks, and then infuse these bricks with a silicon solution to render them waterproof. This was done either through a gravity feed, or a high pressure system – both expensive and time-consuming. A new technology has recently emerged using a high silicon cream, which is infused into holes which have been drilled into the mortar. The silicon is wicked along the more porous mortar course, rather than the brick. I had the luck to come across an installer of this system, and got some first hand training. No distributors yet in the US, but I’ll have some material shipped over to give it a try.

The company website also provides a good reference for investigating sources of water, other than wicking groundwater, which must identified and eliminated for a long-term fix. There is also much debate over the misdiagnosis of moisture sources in the wall. And so I question my own case. Is it moisture which has migrated in during the winter, and then pops the paint as it tries to evaporate in the spring? Is the moisture wicking up from the ground? Can I install a surface drainage to keep the foundation wall dry? Find the source. So the challenge is on.  I come to the defense of my own 'ancient' building - that it may continue to provide (dry) comfort and protection.

The Nature of Naming

Humans, by nature, create order about them by naming things. Carol Yoon remarked on this phenomena in children, who named elements of nature and created relationships between objects along the line of family ties. This tendency comes repressed as we become adults – but it still emerges in our more unguarded moments. Ever hear the joke about the guy who is having a love affair with “Bonnie” – only to find out that ‘she’ is really a car?

Apparently houses in England used to have names, not numbers. I was staying at ‘Garthdale’, up the road from ‘Fellside’ and across from ‘Rose Cottage.’ It was almost as if these were the permanent inhabitants of the village, whereas we humans were just temporary visitors. This puts property management into a different perspective –perhaps more accurate, sustainable. For in fact, these houses will outlast our rather short mortal existence. These are both the ancestors and the future. We should equally respect the character of their past , and consider the needs of successive humans. E.g. preserve the character of the tub, but give it new plumbing.

The British seem to have a great propensity not only for naming. but for breathing life into inanimate objects. “The pudding wants to be eaten.” “the cupboard wants to be rationalized.” ? Really? Since when does pudding have an opinion? So it was no great surprise when we arrived at the ‘tip’ (aka ‘dump’ in American English) to find the waste containers all carefully divided into names. The ‘wood’ wanted to be sorted out.


Of course, the purpose of the sorting was to increase the ability to recycle the individual elements. And indeed, a sign by the exit proudly displayed the percentage of waste which was successfully recycled. It was the act of identifying and naming the waste which breathed life back into the material. So our van full of stuff from emptying a garage became wood, metal, glass, soil. It became a game, a challenge to find a home for the material in the right bin – where it could continue to live. We could keep it from the nameless abyss of “waste.” My friends and I were eager that our own recycled percentage should meet or beat that of the site average. It was a game, a challenge, a source of pride.

The psychological impact of naming materials is subtle, and perhaps mostly a figment of my imagination, but potentially an interesting lense on life. So I honor the life in train which transports me around the country, I greet the cows by name on my morning runs, and I welcome the little people who live in my computer and compose these blogs. This is the great consciousness which kids understand, and which we seek as adults. Maybe it just starts with a name.

Cooking up alternatives

I am not a huge fan of gas cooking, having some deep seated fear of the gas escaping and exploding. Perhaps a few too many delayed starts on a gas stove, the faint smell, the ‘whooshing’ sound and singed eyebrows… A more rational cause of concern is the environmental considerations - however complex.  Gas loses more heat to the surrounding air, but it provides instant heat, and has greater control over temperature. Electric ignition for gas stoves can also save up to 40% fuel over continually-burning pilot light – even more if you cook as infrequently as I do these days.

But then there is the whole question of fuel source. Electricity is generated from carbon fuel sources and some small percentage of renewable sources, depending on your supplier. Natural gas, once a reasonable alternative, is quickly reaching the end of the 'easy' access sources, and is now requiring fracking, which is triggering a whole host of other problems – such as earthquakes.

The way I see it, the only truly environmental choices are: solar powered cooking and biofuel – sourced locally.

Solar power cooking has two basic options. One is direct concentration of solar rays on the target food. Relatively simple, but lest you think this is just for camping, watch for Lapin Kulta’s Solar Kitchen. Joining forces to bring this about are world-acclaimed Catalan designer Martí Guixé, Finnish food visionary Antto Melasniemi and Lapin Kulta beer. Opening during Milan Design Week 2011 in April, the Lapin Kulta Solar Kitchen Restaurant is celebrating the sun, gourmet cooking, beer, life and art on a grand tour of Europe.

The other option consists of solar kettles that use vacuum tube technology to capture, accumulate and store solar energy. Since solar vacuum glass tubes work on accumulated rather than concentrated solar thermal energy, solar kettles only need diffused sunlight to work and need no sun tracking at all. The vacuum insulating properties can keep the heated water for hours.

And when the sun isn’t shining, fire up your biogas cooker. This is especially sustainable if you have your own cow or other “fuel” producing animal. This is a reliable, year round source of fuel, and a great source of methane, which is about 23 times more potent than carbon dioxide as a greenhouse gas. Capturing the methane is a centuries old technology, but had fallen out of favor in countries like China. But biogas has gained popularity again in developed nations, using corn and other feedstock. One research study found that biogas from livestock manure could produce 1% of the total US energy consumption, and avoid another 1% of GHG by capturing the methane.

These are some simple solutions, which, in our very complex modern life, are not so simple to implement. Not really practical, nor really a serious solution - but hopefully a bit of a stimulous for some re-thinking.  So for the time being, my own immediate practical application is the electric instant kettle, whilst I continue to plan/ research a residentially sized CHP power plant.