A
s nuanced as it may be, there is a difference between hearing
what is said versus listening to what is being said.
When it comes time for architectural firms and campus housing departments to
collaborate on projects, understanding this subtle difference is an important consideration.
It requires focus and intention to truly hear what someone is saying and to
value the insights they are sharing. When deep listening is combined with
thoughtful design, the results can be inspirational and, sometimes, unexpected.
An invaluable voice in the design process is that of the students. Administrators,
facilitators, service providers, and design professionals owe it to the residents
to listen with empathy, curiosity, and intent. Students come to campus with a
desire to grow academically and personally, and their insights help shape the
future of higher education – especially when it comes to the design,
construction, and operation of residential facilities. And while virtually
every campus at least refers to surveys or student focus groups, some of the
most successful outreach processes are those where student voices are at the
center of the design conversation. Embracing students’ insights can result in
game-changing ideas that enrich the final design and, ultimately, the overall
student experience.
Sometimes the biggest design developments are inspired by the most
serendipitous conversations. Such was the case at San Diego State University in
California when a chance interaction plus purposeful listening resulted in
extraordinary results. The project was Zura Hall, a nine-story residence hall
built in 1968 and in need of a major refresh. Anyone who has spent any time in San
Diego understands the huge role that the surfing culture plays in the city, and
the SDSU campus is no exception. That was proven when the design team arrived
on campus and observed wetsuits hanging over exterior balconies, left by
students to dry; asking SDSU facilities about this practice opened a
conversation about the effect of years of students washing their wetsuits and
surfboards in the showers, rinsing off salt and sand that then harmed the
plumbing system. On a subsequent visit, the design team intercepted a pod of Zura
Hall residents who were heading out to catch their waves. Asking about wetsuits
opened a conversation about the students’ frustrations with lugging their
surfing gear from their rooms, down the corridor, down the elevator, and out
the front door. It became clear that a simpler system would have dual benefits
to help both the students and the plumbing.
Interrupting students as they cross campus may seem invasive, but when
it is handled in a professional, respectful, and casual manner, students often
are willing to share their insights into the realities of their residential
experience. This certainly was the case at SDSU where these informal
conversations ultimately led to a creative custom-designed solution. Now Zura
Hall residents have access to a one-stop outdoor wash-down area for their
surfboards, wetsuits, and gear, as well as custom-designed individual lockers
to secure their equipment.
But the conversation did not end there. Further listening sessions,
more formal and moderated this time, allowed the team to direct the
conversation towards a variety of topics. During these sessions, the students
shared that one of the main reasons they chose to attend SDSU was to embrace
the SoCal surf culture and lifestyle. This, in turn, helped inspire design themes
and aesthetics for the hall. As research continued, a visit to the nearby Mengei International Museum
and its Surfcraft exhibition in 2014 drove choices for interior colors and material
concepts and further fueled the design.
As the deep dive into surf culture continued, even more discoveries
were made. One surprise was that despite its in-touch-with-nature reputation,
the surfboard manufacturing process is, in fact, highly toxic. This fact ran
contrary to the project’s goal of creating a sustainable residential community. Fortunately,
the designers soon met Carl Kish, program director and an SDSU alum, as well as
associate professor Jess Ponting, director of the SDSU Center for Surf Research,
which is known as the premier international hub for research on
sustainable surf tourism. They, in turn, connected the design team with local
shapers (surfboard designers) who were producing sustainable and
environmentally friendly surfboards. The sustainable techniques used included upcycling
broken and damaged surfboards and using natural materials like sustainably
harvested woods, hemp, and non-toxic resins, which made them a logical choice
to showcase throughout the residence hall interiors.
While virtually every campus at least refers to surveys or student focus groups, some of the most successful outreach processes are those where student voices are at the center of the design conversation.
All of these loose connections came together to make Zura Hall the home
for the SDSU Adventures in Surfing and Sustainability residential learning
community. As the residents learn about surfing’s history and culture, they
also benefit from experiences and lectures about a surf-driven culture of
sustainability. They do so surrounded by three beautiful long boards designed
by Wegener Surfboards and a large mural created by local surf artist, Andy
Davis, that welcomes visitors at the front door. Just past the lobby, 45 short boards are mounted to
the walls of each residential community, creating unique floor identities and
celebrating the craftsmanship and environmental stewardship of Reeco, Hess,
Kaimanu, and Firewire Surfboards.
While the San Diego State project demonstrated the value of listening
to large swaths of the community, sometimes the most impactful moments of a
design process can occur when individual students have a platform to share
their lived experiences through storytelling sessions. These sessions are
an information-gathering process that differs from more normative focus group
discussions because, through storytelling, participants have an opportunity to
see, feel, and experience the world in a way that they have not had access to
before. Storytelling does not necessarily provide the designers with
answers, but it does clarify the questions they should be asking. It can also
serve to clarify project goals, inspiring both passion and commitment in search
of design solutions that are answering the right questions.
Take, for example, cases where the design team is exploring questions
of justice, equity, diversity, and inclusion in their work. Asking – and trying
to answer – the right questions demonstrates how purposeful integrated design
is: not relegated to just supporting a specific, marginalized community, but
rather investing in a process and approach to raise the level of equity
for all users.
During a storytelling session about gender-inclusive restrooms in
residence halls, one student shared a personal story about the loss of gender
privacy in their residential community. They had self-identified to the
university during housing assignments that they were transgender. In an attempt
to support and accommodate their living situation in a gender-segregated
residence hall, the university sequestered a private bathroom just for their
use. This action, though, unintentionally outed the student’s identity. Through
tears, this student shared their desire for better design solutions that would
respect personal privacy and confidentiality.
This story is not unique. All too often, even the best of intentions
can have negative outcomes. But after hearing this individual’s story, the
design team began to search for a holistic solution. The result was a design
referred to as a universal washroom. Rather than focusing on accommodating
individual needs, the design focuses on enhancing privacy and providing solutions
for all people. The universal washroom provides private and secure toilet
stalls and shower enclosures for individual use. Full-height walls, improved
acoustics and ventilation, separate users, and real doors with lockable
hardware provide a secure environment. The common areas, dedicated for hand
washing, are open with dual entries/exits as well as clear lines of sight to
foster a sense of safety while supporting community interaction. Washroom
signage denoting gender equity is also important, not only for basic
communication but also for education about and support for gender diversity. And
while the story originally was shared on just one campus, its lessons have been
applied to a number of different housing projects on a variety of campuses such
as Western Washington University, Oregon State University, the University of
Oregon, and the University of San Diego.
Another personal story that had a large impact was that of a blind
architecture student at the University of Oregon in Eugene. As she met with the
design team, she recounted her dramatic experience of being in a building during
an emergency. Trying to evacuate, she found herself in an exit stairwell of a
multi-story building. While alarms pierced her ears, other residents were
rushing past her, pushing and bumping into her as she made her way down to the
ground level. Emergency exits are a given part of any design, but it was
profound to consider the experience of a person who is blind or has low vision
(BLV). While sighted people can simply run down the stairs and see where to
exit, this student relied on the handrail for both support and navigation
between step and landing. She also needed to rely on braille signage to inform
her that she had finally reached the ground floor. She emphasized that the handrail
is a lifeline for a BLV person, and to let go of the lifeline to search for
braille signage is a frightening prospect. Her recommendation was to simply
install braille on the underside of the internal handrail so students know when
they have reached the exit. This request, which carries a minimal cost but
provides immense value, was implemented at the University of Oregon’s Kalapuya
Ilihi residence hall and on other projects where the building is more than two
stories high.
A Shared Journey
Sometimes listening means more than simply absorbing the
spoken word by recognizing that individuals may be more or less comfortable
with different means of sharing their story. Consider the case of Western
Washington University in Bellingham where four unique listening stations were
created to gather information directly from the students.
Storytelling does not necessarily provide the designers with answers, but it does clarify the questions they should be asking. It can also serve to clarify project goals, inspiring both passion and commitment in search of design solutions that are answering the right questions.
The new hall at WWU was to straddle an 80-foot hillside and
include pathways that meandered through scenic forests and ravines. It is an
idyllic setting but could also be difficult to navigate for individuals with
mobility differences. So, at the first listening station, an image exercise
allowed students to share thoughts and ideas using imagery as the communication
medium. They were asked to consider the theme of safety and security and then
select an image that best represented their concerns over feeling unsafe and
vulnerable or one that promoted a sense of safety. A second listening station focused
on general themes of equity, diversity, and inclusion. This station, where
students could discuss sensitive topics or personal stories, was designed as a safe
space where students could speak freely; it was removed from other activities
for privacy and offered comfortable furniture in a space that could promote a
simple facilitated discussion. A third listening station utilized empathy-mapping
tools for students to share what a typical day looks like by using graphic
icons, Post-It notes, and informal discussions. Students were asked to consider
what their day might look like and what support they need for nourishment,
wellness, academic support, social support, and community. Additionally, they were
asked to consider under-represented student populations, what their day looks like, and what additional
design ideas could be incorporated in the new residence hall to help support
their needs. Finally, a fourth listening station encouraged them to write down
their private, personal reflections, which were guaranteed not to be shared
beyond the design team, hopefully encouraging students to truly open up.
By combining the input from all these stations, the team was
able to create the concept of a shared journey that drove the development. The
result, to be completed for the 2021-22 academic year, was a design that
included accessible ramps, bridges to traverse ravines, and a variety of
purposeful landings that could host structured and unstructured activities.
Classrooms, multipurpose rooms, laundry areas, community kitchens, spiritual
reflection space, and formal and informal group study areas support the vision
that all students can live together equitably.
All of these cases illustrate
the thorough and complex processes that are required of architects, housing
departments, and everyone involved in the design process if they are to truly
listen and glean the necessary information. Listening, as compared to hearing,
means coming into the process without preconceived notions, possessing a
willingness to engage in spontaneous conversations, and respecting the insights
of all storytellers. The
exchange of thoughts, feelings, personal stories, and inspired ideas can only
come from mutual trust and a sincere desire to find common ground. When the
opportunity to be heard is integrated into a design process, it opens the
possibilities that every individual can make a positive impact. When listening occurs, the benefits come through
loud and clear.
Kurt Haapala is a partner with Mahlum Architects in their Portland, Oregon, offices.