A decade ago I was president of a heritage preservation organization in Ontario, Canada, pushing the idea that “heritage is green” and there was much to learn from old buildings—they weren’t relics from the past but were templates for the future. I noted that in the world before electricity, buildings were shaped like letters so everyone was close to a window for access to fresh air and natural light. I wrote a Treehugger post at the time titled “Architects: Go Back to the ABCs and Design Buildings Like Letters Again,” under a drawing showing buildings shaped like H, L, O, C or E, many of which can be seen in the photo of London above.
As an architect, I thought we should do more of this, writing:
Much has changed in the decade since I wrote that. For most of the last 50 years, we have worried about energy consumption, but now we worry about carbon dioxide emissions, which is a very different thing. Buildings are more efficient, the electricity supply is cleaner. And in a new building, the upfront carbon emissions from making the materials and constructing the building can be bigger than the carbon emissions that come from operating the building.
In some cases, the upfront emissions can be as much as 80% of the total lifecycle emissions, and there is a real time-value to carbon. The big burp that happens at the beginning comes out of our carbon budget now, which is why I keep using the term “upfront carbon emissions” instead of embodied carbon—it’s happening now. But I also can’t just say “let’s have a little more perimeter for a lot more natural light and air.”
Much of the embodied carbon and upfront emissions are related to the choices of materials, but in a recent essay titled “Reducing embodied carbon isn’t all about materials,” Frances Gannon of Make Architects looks at other issues that affect the amount of embodied carbon in a building, including form factor:
We have discussed this before, complaining that every jog, bump, and step causes more heat loss and thermal bridges, with Bjarke Ingels’ Vancouver House as the poster child for how you should not design buildings. It’s why we use Bronwyn Barry’s hashtag #BBB– “Boxy But Beautiful” for simple but elegantly proportioned buildings.
When I wrote my post a decade ago, I argued for a compromise between building form and access to light and fresh air. Gannon does as well, recognizing the trade-off.
Gannon shows how much difference it can make, going from a round building to an L building to a C building. There is roughly 75% more facade on the C building while enclosing the same floor area.
Gannon doesn’t include O buildings, like every 19th Century building in London or my favorite “New Old” building, Weber Thompson’s Terry Thomas building in Seattle, with its big courtyard. I called it “a breath of fresh air. It is what a green building should be: not just about energy, but about being healthy and happy as well.” It’s hard to imagine a building form with more surface area per square foot of space.
Who would have imagined that Philip Johnson, notoriously disdainful of green and sustainable building, would demonstrate how to minimize surface area with his Lipstick Building in New York City. But as noted earlier, thinking about carbon is very different than thinking about energy.
Most architects aren’t thinking about embodied carbon, building codes don’t take it into account, and many zoning bylaws actually encourage steps and setbacks that increase surface area and the concomitant increase in upfront carbon. But it’s the architectural issue of our time, and you can’t go wrong following Gannon’s advice, where she notes that it’s not just about material choices:
Or as we have written on Treehugger, go for radical sufficiency. What do we actually need? What is the least that will do the job? What is enough? And also radical simplicity–everything we build should be as simple as possible. Gannon does a better job of putting it into architectural form, and her essay should be required reading for architects everywhere.
