by Kurt Haapala
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.
