#mankouche

Architect Co-founder Architectural Research Collaborative  Detroit, Michigan archolab.com

Photo by Travis Williams

Steven Mankouche is an architect and co-founder of the Architectural Research Collaborative (ARCHOLAB), a cross-institutional collaboration with Carnegie Mellon University [based in Ann Arbor, Michigan] which brings architects together with disciplines such as art, robotics, filmmaking, advocacy, activism, and farming. The Collaborative has worked on a wide range of projects, including digitally fabricated steam bent wood structures, robotically applied plaster, and game strategies for enabling marginalized youth to participate in designing architecture. The team’s recent project, building an underground greenhouse on the foundation of a derelict home in Detroit, was featured in The Atlantic in 2016, in a piece titled, Turning Detroit’s Abandoned Homes Into Greenhouses: A New Kind of Neighborhood Regrowth. Steven is the recipient of numerous accolades including Architect magazine’s 2010, 2013, and 2014 R+D Awards and 2013 Progressive Architecture Award; three Boston Society of Architects Un-Built Architecture awards; and the Young Architects Award from the New York Architectural League. He also serves as associate professor of architecture at the University of Michigan Taubman College of Architecture and Urban Planning, where he teaches architectural fabrication and construction. Steven’s work has been exhibited in the Netherlands at the Dutch Design Week in Eindhoven; Hilversum Museum; International Architecture Biennale in Rotterdam; Architectural League of New York; Spaces Gallery in Cleveland; Scripps College in Clermont California; Frederik Meijer Gardens and Sculpture Park in Grand Rapids; and U-M Matthaei Botanical Gardens in Ann Arbor. He earned a bachelor’s degree and master’s degree in architecture at Cornell University, and RIBA Part One at the Architectural Association in London. When Steven is not working, you can find him playing with his son Ezra. He resides in Indian Village, Detroit, with his partner and collaborator Abigail Murray, a ceramicist, and their son.

FAVORITES

Book: Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky

Architectural work: Boromini’s San Carlo alle Quatro Fontane

Motto: “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can,” said the little blue engine.

Destination: Roma

THE QUERY

Where were you born?

In a small town called Glyfada, south of Athens, Greece, but I grew up in Milan, Italy.

What were some of the passions and pastimes of your earlier years?

Darkroom photography. I still love the limits, feel, and depth of black and white gelatin silver prints and salt prints. Growing up in the summers I would go sailing with my neighbor in the Adriatic and Aegean Seas.  

How did you come to realize your intrigue with architecture and design?

I grew up surrounded by iconic design and incredible architecture, but like many of my compatriots, I was blind to the environment I grew up in. It was only when I left, and as an exchange student in Kyoto, Japan, that I realized what I was photographing was mostly architecture.

Why does this form of artistic expression suit you?

Architecture is all encompassing. It is both pragmatic and wondrous. It affects us every day. It is both about us and for us. I feel it is where I am from and where I belong.

When and how did you get your start in the profession? 

After graduating from college, I worked in a number of practices: two years in New York, and five years in Aspen. At the same time, I experimented with a variety of crafts: glass slumping and casting at Urban Glass in New York, and furniture-making in Colorado. I wanted to explore architecture at both a cultural and material level, but at the time that was difficult for me to do though client-based work. So I started building furniture, which led to a residency fellowship at Anderson Ranch Art Center in Snowmass Village, Colorado. There, I built my first body of work which took me to Buffalo for a teaching appointment at SUNY, and then to Stuttgart for a residency at Schloss Solitude, which subsequently led me to Michigan. Serendipitously, my partner, artist Abigail Murray, started on a similar route. She moved from Colorado, where we met, to Alfred, New York, and we were able to work together on and off ever since.

How would you describe your creative process as you begin a project?

I like to question simple assumptions, to make conceptual leaps, and to draw parallels. For example… plaster is a material that has been used by architects from the beginning of civilization. It was a fundamental learning tool and decorative material during the Beaux Arts, yet today you will have a hard time finding a “plasterer” in your town. Why is this? There are many reasons related to the economy, trade practices, advent of modernism, and even to fire safety and building code issues. This question led me to rethinking whether contemporary technology, such as the five axis robotic arm, could be used to rethink plaster today - not through a nostalgic lens, but to develop new forms and new construction practices. I strongly believe in spatial and material diversity in different environments, styles, and types of architecture.

What led to the decision to put ARCHOLAB on the map in 2010?

Over the years, I found myself collaborating not only with Abigail Murray, but with a number of individuals that, like her, had their own careers and expertise. Some collaborations did not endure, but many did. Joshua Bard, architecture faculty at Carnegie Mellon University, Matthew Schulte, Abigail Murray, and I were working a lot together and independently and needed a common name to call ourselves. We decided to form the Architecture Research Collaborative (ARCHOLAB). Since then other collaborators have joined, such as Andy Malone, a game designer and artist; Travis Williams, a recent architecture graduate; and Jono Strut, designer and founder of Section Cut.

How would you describe the mission/philosophy of the Collaborative?

ARCHOLAB brings architects together with other disciplines such as art, robotics, activism, filmmaking, advocacy, and farming.  Our work focuses on two primary disciplinary concerns: the ability of people to construct their own environments; and understanding the relationship between history, technology, materials, and labor. We are interested in developing design strategies and methods for enabling public participation in the design of their built environments. ARCHOLAB uses digital technology to revisit and revive lost historic construction methods and sustainable practices. One driver behind our work is the understanding that pre-electrification technologies, while being craft-intensive, are also most often centered around natural, low carbon footprint materials that are less predictable than highly industrialized materials. We are interested in why certain materials and methods are no longer in use and what drove them into extinction. 

What has challenged you most in this new endeavor?

It is challenging to understand the nature of collective work. We like to tell stories about individuals. Even though we formed this collective group to bring everyone under one umbrella, our work is often attributed to one person more than another. For example, this interview is focused on me, yet the work of ARCHOLAB is only partly mine and would not exist without he synergy of collective work and the sharing of ideas. 

How did the concept for your project, Afterhouse, come to fruition?

It was Abigail Murray’s idea. She was researching passive solar greenhouses, such as the Aymara Walipini, a subterranean solar greenhouse, and thought it would be a great way to build such a structure in Michigan. Rather than digging a hole in the ground, she suggested reusing the existing foundation of a derelict house in Detroit. As we were searching for the ideal location in the city, we were introduced to artist Andy Malone, who joined our group and donated 3347 Burnside to create Afterhouse. From there, a large number of friends and collaborators, including Travis Williams, Jono Sturt, Andre Thompson, Jamin Townsend, and many more helped shape the project.

What is the significance of this model/project?

Afterhouse is a semi-subterranean passive solar greenhouse built on the foundations of a derelict house. While having a pitched roof with the same angle as the other homes, its geometry is pivoted so that the ridge faces due south. This gives Afterhouse a more contemporary and complex geometry, while staying within the bungalow vernacular. Unlike many urban greenhouses that focus on food production and are often of a large agricultural scale, Afterhouse fits into its dense neighborhood context. It is less about food production and more about embracing food culture, extending the seasons in Michigan, and a place for neighbors to enjoy architecture both inside and out. As a passive solar greenhouse our idea is to plant varietals that grow just south of Michigan, including pomegranates, pistachios, figs, and rosemary that die in our winters. But really, for us, the project has been primarily about building something beautiful and working with amazing people.

How does it feel to be an important part of Detroit’s emerging urban farming culture?

Before we received a KIP D grant from the Kresge Foundation, Afterhouse was simply a volunteer-built project. We raised money for materials through some crowdsource funding and worked with friends, friends of friends, neighbors and neighbor friends. We also met urban farmers who helped in so many ways. The Kresge funding allowed us to pay people for their work and hire professionals from many aspects of the project. It also allowed us to experiment with materials in unusual ways. We used the Shou Sugi Ban technique of burning wood to side the Afterhouse with hardwood milling scrap. We also worked with artists at Cranbrook Academy of Art, Pewabic, and William Hedgspeth, a local mason to develop a glaze and build an interior thermal wall made of reclaimed brick. As we begin to start planting the project this spring, we have also met numerous urban farmers interested in developing their own Afterhouse, and that is really exciting.

What do you consider the importance of employing public participation in your designs?

There are different ways people can participate in projects. For Afterhouse, many people helped and are continuing to help physically to build the project - neighbors, some hired, and others volunteered. When that happens everyone shares a sense of ownership in the project. This support not only generates excitement and creates new friendships, but also improves the work through group conversations when the project is facing a hurdle, be it a design moment or a more practical one. We have also worked with young people in Manhattan who wanted to design a retreat on a cauliflower farm in the Catskills, a project called Project Reach: the Farm. In that project we developed a series of board games to enable non-architects to participate in the design process.

How would you describe your aesthetic?

Contradictory: rough and refined, smart and stupid, bright and dull, natural and artificial. I look for contrast, but in subtle ways. For example, I like all kinds of good food, but I am most interested in knowing how things are made at their origin and through their re-adaptation.

Is there a project that has presented an important learning curve?

Certainly Afterhouse has been the project. Building something full-scale, working with different ordinances, and learning new techniques while maintaining energy has been both the challenge and reward.

What is the function of digital technology in your methods and practices?

To do things that cannot be done by hand. I am not interested in the optimization aspects of technology, nor in it replacing human craft. I see it as a collaborator, a different way of constructing something new that is at the same time totally familiar. Non-human motivated complexity and algorithmic architectural productions where a person is put there for “scale” bore me.

Who in your life would you like to thank, and for what

Abigail, for always asking the tough questions and inspiring me, and Ezra, our son for making every day delightful.

Do you have a favorite architectural/design resource that you turn to? 

Diderot’s Illustrated Encyclopedia

What three things you can’t live without?

La Pavoni Espresso maker, a Japanese saw, and paper.

From where do you draw inspiration?

Turning Detroit’s Abandoned Homes Into Greenhouses

Something about Fig Tree’s in Michigan just makes us at Agritecture smile. We hope this story inspires our readers regarding how urban agriculture can uplift challenged cities and communities.

When Steven Mankouche first saw the house at 3347 Burnside Street in Detroit, in 2013, it was buckling and scarred with burn marks 1. An artist named Andy Malone, who lived nearby, had just purchased the lot for $500 and was hoping to find some way to bring it back to life. Mankouche, an architect, and his partner, Abigail Murray, a ceramicist 2, floated a proposal to do just that, by commandeering the house’s foundation and repurposing it as a sort of plant nursery.