Traditionally, architecture incorporated a number of disciplines such as mathematics, physics and arts, and involved a highly varied skill base. It still does, but now, architects are branching out into more fields than ever before – biology has become one of these areas.
In recent years, biology and architecture has aligned and the two are becoming increasingly more intertwined. Increasing carbon emissions and the threat of global warming mean that the green building sector is on the rise. In response, architects are becoming increasingly more innovative in their design schemes. They have found that through a combination of integrated natural and built environments, a number of positive results, including: reduced environmental damage, pleasing and innovative aesthetics, economical savings, and sustainability; can be achieved [1].
After all, hasn’t nature already proven itself to be a fantastic designer and developer of new innovative ideas? Every organism has to be as efficient as possible; to utilise effectively, its resources; and of course, in order to survive. Thus, when it comes to architecture, understanding biological phenomena could be both crucial and useful in creating designs for efficient building use – designs that nature has already perfected so flawlessly, through years of evolution.
But, as well as just understanding the external and internal structural lattices and matrices which formulate the organisms’ exoskeleton, architects must also understand the internal processes which come to shape how the organism has come into existence; by doing so, the buildings are then designed efficiently, just as nature strives to be. Analysing and appreciating both the aesthetics and the internal proceedings which develop structures are essential.
Frei Otto, for instance, is one architect who realised the importance of understanding both an organisms internal processes rather than simply admiring its’ structural components. He recognised that natural systems are self-stabilising. Changes in the internal or external environment have a direct consequence on the form, so why not design the final form by imitating the processes that create the form of natural objects? Consequently, instead of just copying what he saw, he wanted to imitate the internal processes by which nature arrives at its form – he referred to his organic manipulations as “self-formation constructions,” where “nature is not copied but made comprehensible. [2]“
Studying natural systems like bamboo, diatoms, radiolarian, birds, crabs, tents and all sorts of other materials and species, Otto’s epiphany came when he began examining the beauty and strength of spider webs [3]. If only, thought Otto, we could stretch man-made structures to such limits that we gain from better economical use of the material – this is where he turned to, soap. Scrutinising properties of soap film, he realised that the surfaces of bubbles are efficient natural machines; balancing strength and lightness, they find the largest possible shape using the smallest amount of material. The film stretches to accommodate both internal and external differences in pressure, but rarely falls apart. It is only at certain fixed point and beyond that the bubbles’ break. This, he realised, was exactly what his roof structure should do. He calculated the degrees of change along the surface of soap film, and used those figures to generate the same structural dynamics in soap, to apply to, the curvature of his roof; carrying through his ideas to the development stage, this lead to the development of the award winning, Munich Olympic Stadium.
Presented with the Royal Gold Medal for Architecture in 2005, Otto’s work has continued to inspire other leading architects such as Norman Foster.
Norman Foster, the designer of the London Gherkin, also turned to nature for inspiration. The ideas behind the London Gherkin came from a peculiar deep sea creature, known as the Venus’ Flower Basket Sea Sponge. Instead of mimicking the lattice structure of the sponge – which is in fact known for its fantastic geometric configuration which gives it its’ structural strength – he chose the sponge for its ability to filter water and nutrients efficiently, and for its ability to manoeuvre water through its lattice-like exoskeleton. Because, not only is the sponge structurally robust, but it provides these other internal benefits as a result of its design, which are transferable to the Gherkin. The London Gherkin: directs the flow of winds from street level and open windows along its spiral body, funnelling it through the buildings offices naturally, and reducing by almost half the need for energy-sucking air conditioning. This is exactly what Foster wanted to achieve [4].
This movement in search of “biomimetic” architecture has forged increasingly unlikely alliances between synthetic biologists, botanists and other scientists with artists, builders and materials makers to make structures that work with nature, not against it. By simply learning to identify with nature, we too, and not just the buildings, are working with it.
[1] http://designbuildsource.com.au/integrating-biology-into-architecture
[2] http://classic.the-scientist.com/news/display/53443/
[3] http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2004/oct/04/architecture
