The New Animal Architecture

By Timothy Beatley

Years ago, after just having moved to Australia, I found a fascinating book called Going Native, by Michael Archer and Bob Beale. One of their most provocative ideas was the notion that we should find creative ways to rethink the human-animal connection (and typical conflicts) in cities, suggesting that we might design our homes to accommodate and celebrate the nature around us.

In this model of an "in-house refuge," as they called it, "possums [and here they are referring to one of the 30 or so species of Australian marsupials] could make nests, mate, raise babies, feed, feud and provide hours of fascinating evening viewing for the human family." I thought it was a terrific idea, and still do, in part because it shifts the urban wildlife from a status of pest to a focus of curiosity and fascination.

To some degree we see this sentiment in a number of off-the-shelf habitat attachments and building materials offered on the market today. Some that come to mind are bat boxes and Swift Bricks — special bricks that include a hole or cavity to accommodate a nesting swift in a building facade. These are positive steps, but what is interesting is the emergence of a new generation of designers and engineers that are taking this idea further, looking for bolder, more building-integrated ways to give practical expression to the sensibility of designing spaces for the other urban critters that we share (and want to share) the world with.

One of these designers is Joyce Hwang, aia, an associate professor of architecture at the University of Buffalo. Her design work has emphasized the notion that we should be designing for human habitation but also looking for creative ways to make room for other forms of life.

Hwang and students in her studio have been exploring many design ideas and building prototypes to test and explore this idea. I spoke with her recently by phone and she shared some of the passion that guides her innovative design work. Bat houses — which aren't typically noted for high design — were a big part of our conversation.

One of the key messages of Hwang's work is that these forms of animal architecture, these designed urban habitats, can and should also be examples of "bold" and interesting architecture. Along those lines, she designed a visually dramatic bat tower, with angular lines and a geometric shape. It resembles a wiggly-shaped spaceship or a large mushroom. Supported through a grant from the New York State Council of Arts, it now sits in a sculpture park outside of Buffalo — a good fit since it is itself a striking piece of art.

Another design is her hanging bat modules, made of stainless steel mesh. They are hung in groups from trees or structures to create bat "clouds," making for a striking visual scene. Another idea, her habitat wall concept, calls for designing into building walls slots and spaces that might provide habitat for a variety of species, including birds and bats.

Will such projects really make a difference, helping to counteract the loss of global biodiversity? Perhaps not, and Hwang certainly understands that one project will not turn the tide. But if this becomes a trend, and buildings become commonly designed for multiple species, a biologically significant impact is possible.

Hwang's webpage is called Ants on the Prairie (www.antsoftheprairie.com). She told me that her interest in designing for the human-animal connection probably goes back to her upbringing in Southern California, where family efforts at being tidy and keeping out the ants always struck her as the product of the "illusion that the inside and outside are so separate."

Along her career path she has seen skepticism about the valid role of animal- or bioarchitecture, but she has noticed more openness among her architectural colleagues of late. "These are actually issues that should be at the core of architectural thinking," she says.

"Right now when you think about ... the core values in architecture, you think about space, material, light, things like that." Occupation by animals? Not so much, Hwang says, but she hopes that might someday become the "default condition."

One the most interesting things about Hwang's efforts are her collaborations and consultations with Katharina Dittmar, a biologist on the faculty at Buffalo. We need more of these kinds of collaborations, in architecture but also in planning, as we will increasingly need to shape cities and city infrastructure — from roads to energy systems — to maximize habitat values and movement for critters.

Design and planning for living cities

Together this work is significant in signaling a shift in what architects and engineers think is important. And it is a new view of cities as biological arks.

Despite the loss of biodiversity from development and urbanization, the notion offers at least a slight hope of finding ways to creatively make room for many other critters within our constructed environment. Ironically, the removal of unwanted animals from homes, from bats to raccoons, is a big business. Common industry techniques and methods can be inhumane (like glue traps) and are largely unregulated. Shifting to building designs that accommodate other species in the right ways offers a different view of these animal soulmates — one that recognizes the many benefits of shared coexistence in the city.

Perhaps in the future many of us will be able to live in homes or work in offices that we intentionally share with other animals, and be able to watch the comings and goings of these co-inhabitants as a common and rewarding aspect of urban life.

Timothy Beatley is the Teresa Heinz Professor of Sustainable Communities at the University of Virginia, where he directs the Biophilic Cities Project.

Resources

Image: Designer Joyce Hwang's hanging bat "cloud" provides bat habitat and a striking visual element beneath a pedestrian bridge at Pompenburg Park in Rotterdam, the Netherlands. Photo by Joseph Swerdlin.