Queeries: On Design Standards
☁️ past - present - future ☁️
Recently I’ve learned—again—the power of incremental work. I’m the type to switch between different to-do list apps and productivity methods quarterly because the things that I do outgrow the structures that support their doing. I used to prize checking things off my to-do list for a tiny dopamine hit. Now, I set goals for the entire week and make sure I make progress on that goal—no matter how little or large—each day. What feels good is seeing my efforts build on themselves. Every action is a recommitment to myself. I’m learning to love myself—again—through my own work.
Researching design standards has been in the back of my head since the days of undergrad, or even before. When my father renovated the bathroom of my childhood home, pre-pubescent me started drawing floor plans of the house using throwaway ballpoint pens on the blank backs of junk mail letters. I didn’t know how to draw walls or doors or windows, but intuited that a bird’s eye view would turn things into outlines. Not a thought or care for scale or accuracy. And this was fine. I was drawing to make sense of my spatial experience for myself.
Later, in my first design studio in college, I would agonize over the “correct” formation of lines, dashes, and hatches to draw something that my professors would read as “wall.” Drawing became communication; lineweights, linetypes, and colors formed the language. Drawing conventions formed a code I had to decipher, despite being separate from the technicalities of building code that architects contend with in practice. I was told to take inspiration from—or even straight-up copy—plans and sections published in monographs and design journals, as though re-drawing the details would instill in me the knowledge of their intricacies. At the same time, I was instructed to not pay too much mind to constraints set forth by the American Disabilities Act, because those guidelines, though “correct,” would hinder my fabulous designs.
I didn’t crack open Edward Allen and Joseph Iano’s The Architect's Studio Companion: Rules of Thumb for Preliminary Design, or Francis D. K. Ching’s Building Construction Illustrated, or the AIA’s Architectural Graphic Standards until I was studying for the Architect Registration Exams. (My bad lol.) Maybe I was broke college student; maybe I felt empowered to wing it and invent new methods of representation. I’ve been a stickler for rules and doing things “right,” but the rules have always been fungible to me. If drawings/representations are a language with which to communicate with others, then don’t we, as architects and designers, have the capability to make new “words” for that language—make new rules?
What becomes convention, guideline, standard? How? And Why?
These are the start of many questions that Queeries will ask. And I’m trying to get out of my own brain, because my thoughts can only go so far, and I believe in the magic of discussion and dialogue. It’s time to query you, dear reader, and I hope you’ll want to join the conversation…
Let’s start by differentiating between codes and standards.
Building codes refer to documents legally adopted by a jurisdiction for the purpose of regulating a portion of the design and construction industry.
Design standards are in-depth provisions on a relatively small portion of the design and construction process that often get adopted by reference.
Ultimately, codes and standards are set based on how we live, and how we want to continue to live. (More about this later…)
It is also imperative to understand the context within which the rules have been made. In the United States of America, where I live and write from, building codes reign supreme. Apparently developing building codes in this country was a chaotic process, but who’s surprised? The last but not least amendment in the Bill of Rights, ratified in 1791, clarified that powers not specifically granted to the Federal Government nor prohibited by the states by the Constitution are the dominion of the states or the people themselves. TLDR for that last sentence: if the Federal Government doesn’t have power over it, then the states or the people do.
Over time, individual cities developed and enforced building codes. Shaped by major fires or natural disasters, regulations such as the Tenement Reform Law of 1879 in New York set minimum requirements for light and air. Around the same time, insurance as a business began to grow, and the need for greater public safety and fewer insurance payouts led to the founding of the Building Officials and Codes Administrators International (BOCA) in 1915. Two other model code organizations were established based on regional needs: the International Conference of Building Officials (ICBO) in the west and midwest, and the Southern Building Code Congress International (SBCC) in the south. Codes covered structural design, plumbing, electrical, residential, and fire safety issues.
Over time, the US has seen a unification of building codes by the International Code Council. (This is a great oversimplification but honestly, there’s so much history behind building codes that I have not dug into yet… it’s a lot!) In addition to organizations like the American National Standards Organization (ANSI) and the International Standards Organization (ISO), educational and advocacy organizations have published countless design guidelines for particular constituencies and outcomes. A very accessible example is AARP’s HomeFit Guide, a free publication (available in English, Spanish, Chinese, Korean and Vietnamese) featuring smart ways to make a home comfortable, safe and a great fit for older adults — and people of all ages. New York City Department of Design and Construction’s Active Design Guidelines is a more technical example, as it provides NYC-specific urban and building designs that promote active lifestyles, and city projects are often required to meet these guidelines. As a response to the pandemic, MASS Design Group’s Spatial Strategies for Restaurants in Response to COVID-19 sought to design trust back into restaurants during a harrowing time when the public realm was a scary space to inhabit.
An important detail: all building codes and design guidelines are collaborative processes, requiring a bevy of perspectives to be able to find common ground, or the best standard. There are even processes to modify the International Code Council’s proposed codes—in fact, municipalities will often adopt the International Building Code as a first draft and augment the code to reflect local practices, especially around administration and regulation.
If building codes and design standards are changeable, and can be understood as reactions to shifts in the way we live—as well as a marker of culture—then what would it mean to queer them? And how should we go about changing them—via legislation, or by changing culture?
You wake up in a bedroom. What did you dream about? Tell me a story about an experience—any experience—with building codes or design standards, and I’ll retell it here. Together we can begin to write our own lore…
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As always, thank you for reading. I hope these words inspire in some way, shape, or form.
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Until next time,
A.L.