”Hello. My name is Antoine, a French name. It ‘s the same as Antonio in Spanish, Anton in German or Anthony in England….” And with that humble greeting, Antoine Predock, FAIA, greets a group of first graders at Summit Drive Elementary School in Greenville, SC. Wait a minute……Antoine Predock…. First graders…..South Carolina…..How is this scenario possible? Simple. The Kids in Architecture Program.
The Kids in Architecture program was developed as a themed program for elementary schools to rival the attraction (no pun intended) of magnet schools. Summit Drive Elementary School in Greenville, SC has adopted architecture as its school-wide theme. Designed to serve as the central “hub” with other elementary schools in the area serving as the “spokes, ” these first through fifth graders are regularly exposed to architectural related topics such as shapes, materials and buildings. Clay Gandy AIA, an architect with Batson Architects, has developed a partnering association between Clemson University’s School of Architecture, South Carolina Governor’s School for the Arts and Humanities and Summit Drive Elementary. Mr. Gandy’s resourcefulness, adamant persistence and AIA Greenville sponsorships have promoted the KIA program to a national audience.
It is also Gandy’s idealism, and “never say never” attitude that has created today’s scenario, bringing Antoine Predock from New Mexico to South Carolina. Perhaps these six year olds will one day find themselves on their own lifelong journey of architectural exploration, not unlike the seasoned designer from New Mexico now standing before them.
“Do you guys know how to go to websites ? As a chorus of “yeahs” resonates off of the CMU classroom walls, Predock moves towards the dry erase board. “It’s www, dot, predock, …….what do you think next ?” The chorus of cherubs shrill in unison, “dot com! “ “I can see you know a little bit about computers…..Well, you can see a picture of my doggie on my website, Aiko. That’s a Japanese word that means ‘little loved one’. You can see a picture of my grandchildren too.”
Prompting the casually dressed guest, Mrs. Shaw asked, “ Have you designed a building that we may have heard of?” “ Well,” paused Predock, “I have done buildings made of dirt, or earth. It is called adobe which is a Spanish word.” The idea of building with dirt brought the neophytes to attention. “You make mud blocks with a special clay mixed up with sand and water. Then you make a wooden box and pour the mud into it and let it dry. This becomes a brick made of mud. And then you take thousands of those mud bricks and stick them together, with mortar. You can make a huge wall with it.”
“I have also used shiny blue metal on a building in Tampa. (The Tampa Museum of Science and Industry) Since the color of the water is blue, I made a big blue ball, which is also called a sphere. …And inside the big blue ball is a movie theater, called an OmniMax. I also designed a ballpark for the San Diego Padres Baseball Team.” An alto chorus of “Oh wow” lurches forward from the six year olds. “It was fun designing a baseball park for 44,000 people. Now, you are probably Atlanta Braves fans here. Well we took care of the Braves one year but that was about it. (referring to the 1998 championship series.) “
Redirecting the crowd of six year olds to the front of the classroom, Predock motions towards the large map of the United States that has now been unfurled in front of the blackboard. “I have a picture of my motorcycle on my website too. I rode it across Europe. I then put it on a big ship, a freighter, that brought it to Canada where I rode it from Montreal, down through the Carolinas, over to Dallas and on to the Southwest.” Having also seen the photograph of Predock screaming across the desert on his 1951 Vincent Black Shadow, one of the students asks unabashedly; “Did you ride your motorcycle to our school?”
Although the eyes reveal what may have been his true desire, Predock relents. “No, I came on a plane. My office is mainly in Albuquerque where we make architecture and design our buildings. I also live in California sometimes, in Los Angeles. But did you know you could also drive across the country? How many of you have heard of the legends of Highway 66?” Some of the students look at each other, maybe not to ponder the essence of the possible journey on such a road, but perhaps to strategize the next big trade of Pokemon cards with their neighbors. Realizing the attention span limit of these first graders may have been breached; it was time to move on.
Roving the hallways of this 1950’s school building, Predock’s focus was directed toward the seemingly endless murals, painted by a local artist, that embellished the formerly zolatone coated hallways. By devouring the local color and culture in order to formulate a specific region’s poetic diagram, or “Roadcut”, Predock’s work is able to express the unique duality of being tied to a place without being grounded in a time. But during this excursion, Predock is not gathering information for his next design charette or trying to make a good impression on a design jury. He is sincere and honest in his love for the vernacular, even if it is as simply illustrated as peach orchards, the Blue Ridge Mountains or the downtown skyline. Working his way down the hall, he stops to poke his head into Mrs. Ando’s second grade class. “Do you know of a Tadao Ando?” politely infusing his presence to the stranger. Predock still expresses humility and unbridled enthusiasm in his voice when recanting the tale when Ando actually showed up, albeit unannounced, at his studio.
Later that morning, Predock continues to deliver his gospel of architecture to several classes of fourth graders. Occupying a small auditorium on a local college campus, the second presentation of the day begins with an inspiring speech. The leather coat is now gone and the slender man in a dark purple turtleneck strides up to the stage. Turning to the audience he pulls up a chair and leans forward toward the students.
“You know, you can have a job in life, where you go to work, and say ‘I can’t wait to get home tonight, say my job is over, and watch TV.’ Or…… your work can be your life…… where you are so excited about it that you don’t say ‘I’ve got a job’……. You can say that your work is your life, ‘ This is my life!’ What you do can be something you love so much that it doesn’t feel like a job. That is the way I feel about architecture.”
The sermon continues. “You can love what you do. Think of what you can do now, that are your favorite things, things that you do that you love. That can be your work. It doesn’t have to be a doctor or a lawyer, it can be anything. Your dream can come true…… mine did. I can’t wait to do my work.”
Whether the kids were thoughtfully pondering his words, or thinking about what was for lunch, the silence is shattered when a strange, almost alien form flashes onto the projection screen. “I love airplanes, and I am just fascinated by the stealth fighter.” Talking over the spontaneous laughter, Predock continued.” This is a Stealth Doghouse…… for a Stealth Poodle, in a book called Barkitecture. It was for an auction to help a group of people. Anything can be architecture. You know, Architecture to me is when you go to a building, and you feel something special, that is architecture. Like making films, painting or writing poetry, it is an art. And that is the way I like to do my architecture, it is always an art. But remember, it has to function. I learned that from one client, if you put a light bulb 30 feet in the air you still have to be able to change it if it goes out. I told him I would levitate up and take it out. I was joking but I knew I was accountable for that.”
Another slide appears on the screen. It is a simple geometric mass, characteristic of Predock’s strong use of form and shape. “Another project I designed was called the Spectral Slug. It’s a play unit for kids. Inside this tunnel there are 200 racquetballs on a floor. You go up a ramp and you see colors of the spectrum, like a rainbow. A fan is blowing at you down a tunnel. You then crawl across a platform over a plastic bowl full of goldfish and then slide through this curtain. (“Cool” and “awesome” are now being whispered throughout the room.) “Does anybody know what a symbol is?” quizzed Predock.
One student quickly responds, “ A symbol is a design that represents something.”
“That’s right, so what does this symbolize?”
“ A slug,” was the only response heard.
Sheepishly smiling upon realizing architectural theory may still be a few years away for these students, Predock grinned in defeat and said, “ Well, it actually symbolizes a journey across the landscape.”
“Is it already made?”
“Yes, it’s in Des Moines Iowa…”
Undaunted, the bold ones were quick to follow with; “Can we try it?”
“Well yes, if you go to Des Moines Iowa.”
Moving through the slides of various projects, built and unbuilt, Predock pauses at the photographs of the US Pavilion for the World Expo 92 in Seville Spain. “This is a pavilion for a competition that I won for an idea that was called America the Beautiful. Do we know the song? (Syncopated nodding infects the crowd.) Pointing to a conical mass, “Here is a purple mountain majesty…what are some of the other things in the song?” quizzed Predock.
“What about a Fruited Plain?” Shouts Ashley.
“Yes, these are apple trees, a fruited plane…..” responded Predock , pointing to the foreground.
“Spacious skies?” Blurts Emma.
“Yes, these are spacious skies. They are projected onto theatrical scrims. It’s a film that I can project onto that also provides shade for the building.”
“Alabaster cities…. ?” came from an anonymous voice in the back. Predock freezes in thought…… “Oh that is one of the other lyrics…… no I didn’t remember that one……..”
“Amber Waves of grain?” says Ryan, getting the distinguished guest back on track.
”Yes, Ok, this is a wheat field over an exhibition space below. You go to the theater and it raises up.” It was evident that he had now captivated the young crowd. A mixed chorus of “awesome” and “ohhhhhh” fill the auditorium.
Clicking through the images Predock pauses to discuss the Dance Studio facility at the University of California-San Diego, built in 1996. “Have you studied dance? To me I think some of the greatest athletes in the world, even like Michael Jordan, are dancers that can jump and move their bodies in amazing ways.”
Predock glides through the photographic images like a grandfather proudly showing off wallet pictures of his grandchildren. Pausing at The American Heritage Center and Art Museum in Laramie Wyoming, he explains: “I wanted to make it like a mountain. Buildings do not always have to be horizontal. Sometimes they can be shaped, in any shape you want. There is a famous building in Bilbao Spain by a famous architect named Frank Gehry, that is a very sculptural building. Architecture can be sculpture but it still has to work internally, it has to function.”
When a photograph of The Stanford Center for Integrated Systems Extension at Stanford University materializes on the front wall, Predock decides not to burden the fourth grade audience with the stylistic conflicts he encountered with the Richardsonian Romanesque precedent. Instead, he simplifies his basic theory; “I didn’t want to copy the old way, with a lot of stone vaults and arches. I wanted to use a copper vault. I guess I like metals because I love airplanes. My first job before architecture was gassing airplanes; and I later got a job working on the F4.”
Images of The San Diego Padres Ballpark, the Classroom/Laboratory/Administration Building at California Polytechnic University in Pomona, California, flash before their eyes. The resounding chants of “Ahh, Cool” were being rhythmically repeated with the change of each slide, fourth graders saying out loud what many licensed architects privately think.
As the show comes to a close, Brandon interjects: “Did you build all of these buildings?” With a sly grin, Predock responds; “Well that is why I have all of this white hair, because I work pretty hard. Really follow your dreams, and I really mean that, and you can be anything you want. Don’t settle for anything less than what you love when you do your work. You can see when I think of architecture, I try to dream.” Although these 10 year olds may not remember his name, they will have been subconsciously influenced by his overtly infectious passion for architecture. “ I mentioned earlier to follow your dreams and many of you might become architects, since the theme of your school is architecture. I want you to drop me an email one day if you become an architect and let me know how you are doing.”
The afternoon is approaching, and after a brief tour of the newly completed SC Governor’s School and a lunch break at 65 mph, Predock finds himself, once again before an audience at Clemson University. This time, it is familiar territory. Having served as the inaugural Robert Mills Distinguished Professor in 1995, he greets the crowd with “It’s old home week here.” The audience is mixed with undergraduate and graduate level architecture students as well as the high school age students from the South Carolina Governor’s School for the Arts and Humanities.
Modest yet self-confident, the introduction is classic tongue in cheek. The audience is greeted with the Vidal Sassoon purchased Stealth doghouse. “ Ever since I worked in Nevada, I have had a fixation on stealth geometries. You can go to my www.predock.com, website, you can see my Pantheon wristwatch. I am not doing shoes yet, but there is a Stealth Cookie Jar available now, it’s a gasketed lid, so it is very quiet, very stealthy……..”
Once again, the Spectral Slug appears on the screen but the monologue for these students has become more sophisticated. “Architecture is about journey, about a choreographic imperative. It has always been in my system. I was married to a dancer for a long time……Jennifer and I had a dance company in the 1970’s, and actually taught joint workshops for dance students and architecture students at University of New Mexico. It has always been in my picture in terms of thinking of the body and space. So much can be learned from dance because Architecture is potentially so cross-disciplinary.”
As a finalist in the immense Palm Bay Resort & Congress Center Competition in Agadir, Morocco, Predock proceeds to give a few words of encouragement to the students. “When I was at Clemson before, I spoke of my spiritual savings account. It is a kind of Sargasso Sea of unbuilt competition projects. The energy that goes into making any work, even if it is doesn’t come to realization in physical form, that energy that goes into it, does not evaporate. That energy stays within us.” Speaking consolingly, he continues: “Consider this a pep talk to any architecture students that are doing charettes right now, that wonder how crazy they are, to be pulling all-nighters, you get paid back years later from your spiritual savings account.”
After several self-deprecating references to himself as Mr. Adobe, Predock takes the students on a tour of images that he calls “oldies but goodies.” The Spencer Theater for the Performing Arts, the Social Science & Humanities Building at UC Davis, the Thousand Oaks Performing Arts Center and City Hall, the Turtle Creek House in Dallas, and the Flint River Center in Albany Georgia display the breadth of work and thought that this gentleman architect has created. The intensity of the moment is broken, however when a wireless microphone from elsewhere on campus mysteriously transmits a simultaneous conversation into the auditorium speaker system. Unflappable, and obviously influenced by ‘Area 51’ humor, Predock interjects: “ Just follow what they are saying…(playfully shaking the laser pointer)….. You know what it is……..aliens ! You thought you were safe in this cozy part of South Carolina but they follow me around.”
The San Diego Ballpark design sketches and models are an appropriate place for Predock to explain his methods of research. “ These collages are very important to me. They are my research pieces. That is why I think programming, you know, the ‘P’ word, is such a deadly experience, it is often about number crunching, function, mere proximities, relationships, square footages, but I really like to spice that up with intangibles that are associated with making buildings…… “
As the houselights go up, Predock plugs his wares one more time. “You can visit my website to see a picture of my grandchildren and my doggie……. predock.com……” Although he is comically quick to correct the host upon being mislabeled a Harley Davidson enthusiast (his real love are Ducatis) the mood turns serious when it comes to questions from the audience about architecture. One student asks if greater effort should be made to preserve or restore Highway 66?
“Well, Highway 66 was a cultural first in this country, for example, that had a shelf life, had a time span. It had a power, an authenticity about it but the more you worry about it, you tend to save things that perhaps should die a natural death …….……It really depends in which spirit you approach it. I don’t believe historic preservation, for the sake of saving buildings that are usually Euro-centrist models that we didn’t want in the first place, is a good thing. It is an evil thing. Cornice lines that have to match this and that. They are usually ugly buildings that come from a Euro-centrist bias that had nothing to do with the people who were here originally. Highway 66 is just a vanishing icon in the southwest. You can’t get nostalgic about it and try to protect it in a way where you make it seem silly.”
No longer the first to quiz the master, a parade of hands begin to shoot up into the air. “Is ‘place’ grounded more in the realm of the individual or in terms of the society?” Asks an audience member.
“Well, it boils down to the smile on somebody’s face or how they feel. That’s individual. But the cultural strata that I talked about in the roadcut , or the collages, is absorbed in the people, it exists within the cultural strata. I think it’s ok to look at the ephemeral, the cultural manifestation, but realize it is not the thing to prioritize, necessarily, when you are looking at the huge picture, the geologic depth, the power of place, this intangible that transcends stylistic response in architecture. As I work my way up thru the roadcut , the individual is important, but it is most fulfilling when someone says something touched them about my buildings, something has moved them in a way that they can’t explain. I get a few comments like that. It’s great. ………..well, that is the end of my diatribe.”
And then it was over. A whirlwind odyssey that began with first graders at 9:00 a.m., graduating to fourth graders by noon, and in a surreal sense, growing up and finishing college by 4:30 p.m. that same day. After dropping Predock at the airport, Louis Batson, a principal of Batson Architects, Inc. in Greenville, asked me “Well , How did it go ?” I was tempted to launch into a monologue describing Predock’s theoretical constructs, his foray into new geographic regions or even deliberating the essence of place….but less really is more since all I could muster was an exuberant, fourth grader inspired response: “Awww, It was cool !…”
Antoine Predock may not be a self-proclaimed ambassador of architecture, but he should accept the title by default. Few in this business will attain the stature that he has, and even fewer can remain grounded in humility while powered by simple self-confidence and honesty to one’s own message. Even still, Predock may stand alone among peers in his willingness to take the time to pass the message on to future disciples. It is hoped that the Kids in Architecture Program, with Clay Gandy’s persistence and spirit of volunteerism by the community, will continue to foster the environment necessary to educate our children about architecture and its intrinsic value.
