Articles by Matthew Maganga

We’re in an age of unprecedented technological innovation. The architecture and construction industries are increasingly becoming more and more automated, as firms seek to take full advantage of new machinery and new ways of working to make the design process more efficient. With this increase in automation, however, comes lots of questions too. Will robots ever replace architects? Will the near future see a fully automated construction industry? A pertinent question, too, is the complicated case of automation and the individuality of design – does automation take away from the individuality of design?

The viability of 3D Printing in architecture – has, at the very least – seen a seismic shift over the past few years. Usually relegated to prototypes or conceptual models, 3D Printed building designs are increasingly being actualised as physical projects. In 2013, WinSun, a Chinese company – was able to print 10 houses in a 24-hour period, becoming one of the first companies to achieve this feat using 3D Printing technology. More recently, in 2018, a family in France became the first in the world to live in a 3D Printed house. The city of Dubai is also seeking to have a quarter of its buildings be 3D Printed by 2025. These examples display the upwards category of this technology, and how it is very likely, as the years go by, this automation of building fabrication is even more integrated into the construction process than it is right now.

Talking to the Louisiana Channel, iconic Japanese architect Kengo Kuma discusses the many influences that have shaped his work – and also delves into the impact that the ongoing pandemic has had on the architectural field. In the interview, Kuma describes how influential his early upbringing was to his architectural career. Growing up in a small wooden house in the 1950s – originally built in 1942, would go on to guide his architectural perchance of using wood in his projects. Kuma also mentions Japanese architect Kenzu Tange as a key inspiration and cites Tange’s Yoyogi National Gymnasium – constructed for the 1964 Summer Olympics in Tokyo – as a project that would influence him towards an architectural career.

In a Design and the City episode – a podcast by reSITE on how to make cities more liveable – Mexican architect Michel Rojkind talks about running, coming from a musical background, and the responsibility of architects to create buildings that can “give something relevant” back to the community. The interview delves into Rojkind’s philosophy of making sure that architectural conversations are not insular, but instead conversations that take place within a multi-disciplinary context.

Talking to the Louisiana Channel, Danish professor, sculptor, and artist Bjørn Nørgaard outlines the philosophy that underpins his work, and reflects upon his architectural projects. Nørgaard describes the strong influence of his mentor in the 1960s – German artist Joseph Bueys – whose theories formed a key part of Nørgaard’s evolution and ethos as an artist. The concept of “die soziale Plastik”, or social sculpture, would go on to shape Nørgaard’s approach to architecture and other forms of art – its main philosophy being that every part of life can be approached creatively.

South Africa is an ever-evolving, dynamic country – which over the recent years has seen the emergence of landmarks that have achieved global recognition. In Cape Town, there’s the distinctive elevation of Heatherwick Studio’s Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa. In South Africa’s Western Cape, there’s the free-flowing concrete roof of the Bosjes Chapel, designed by Steyn Studio. And, in a design only unveiled last year, there’s the granary-inspired Thabo Mbeki Presidential Library in Johannesburg, designed by 2021 RIBA Royal Gold Medal winner Sir David Adjaye.

In today’s globalised, ever-evolving world, the architectural field continues to re-invent itself. Innovation has seen the emergence of new building technologies and new methods of communicating with clients, however, in some ways, a large majority of the architecture industry is still outdated – architects relying on client fees received from projects to run their architecture firms. Perhaps as a consequence of the emergence of start-ups in the technology sector, and the increased competitiveness of the global economy, architects have more recently chosen not to confine themselves to within the world of architecture and use their unique skill-sets and abilities in entrepreneurial ways.

At the heart of it, architecture is an inter-disciplinary profession. Ranging from structural engineers to quantity surveyors, a design project thrives from the collaboration of individuals from various fields of work. An often-overlooked connection is the link between the fields of architecture and archaeology, which in more ways than one have a lot in common. In a time of increased awareness on issues of sustainability and heritage, the expertise present in the field of archaeology plays a vital part in the preservation of architectural landmarks of historical significance. This expertise can also play a significant part in creating sensitive architectural interventions suitable for their context, contemporary in their design while responding to historical precedents.

The legacy of the Modernist movement is a complicated one. Spanning a diverse assortment of fiercely debated sub-categories and styles, the Modernist style has established its presence in virtually every continent. Although the movement’s origins may be rooted in Europe and the U.S, outside of the Eurocentric canon architects have redefined and re-established what the definition of a “Modernist” building is. In Sri Lanka, for example, architect Geoffrey Bawa’s sensitive, nature-inspired architectural responses gave rise to the “Tropical Modernism” label. Over in the African continent, it is in the East-African country of Tanzania that some highly unique examples of Modernist architecture are found – headed by architects Anthony Almeida and Beda Amuli.

Fifty-one years ago, in 1970, a Japanese roboticist named Masahiro Mori came up with the concept of the “Uncanny Valley”. Around the same time, architectural renderings done using analog methods were still in vogue – collages and photomontages used to get ideas across to clients. A decade later, personal computers came along, and that saw the emergence of CAD and the wider adoption of digital rendering. Today’s architectural renderings are almost imperceptible from reality, with the increase in sophistication of rendering sofware. We struggle to tell the difference between what is a rendering and what is not – or rather we are able to tell a slight difference and it leaves us slightly uncomfortable, which brings us to Mori’s uncanny valley.