Organising the two performance spaces around a single circulation datum for the Experimental Media and Performing Arts Center in Troy, New York. Sketchbook 57, 25 June 2001
This evening, architect Nicholas Grimshaw will give a talk at the Royal Academy on the the important role that drawing plays in his design practice. The event is part an ongoing exhibition at the RA, entitled Capturing the Concept: The Sketchbooks of Sir Nicholas Grimshaw, which is also accompanied by the publication that features a broad selection of his drawings from the last 30 years. Tim Abrahams talked to the architect about a life spent drawing, and the relationship between sketching and architecture.
Tell me about the sketchbooks.
There are 62 books that span from 1982 to 2008. I’ve always used black Daler plain sketchbooks to write in; everything goes in there. From trying to work out staff pay rises to costings and every kind of squiggle really. But what Stephen Farthing [co-author of Grimshaw’s published sketchbooks and Chair of Drawing at the University of Arts London] and I have concentrated on, in the new publication, are spreads that have a visual appeal.
Are all the drawings within the sketchbooks for the same purpose?
There is a line between a concept drawing and an execution drawing. One is a drawing that you would give to a carpenter or a steel worker. It’s still freehand but it’s an instruction. While a concept drawing is more of a pictogram; an idea. They are two different things. On some level they merge, but I think it’s a very interesting dividing line between the two.
The other question is: can these kinds of drawings be works of art? Because they’re not done for that reason. They can become a work of art. Leonardoda Vinci did a drawing of a piece of machinery to explore an idea about its mechanics but now, several hundred years later, it has become a work of art. Or has it? Is that only because he was also an artist? It’s an interesting area.
British Pavilion at Seville Expo 1992. Sketchbook 19, 17 October 1989
How important is it that it’s your hand on the pen?
I talk to people in my office who design on computers and they say, ‘I am drawing Nick. My hand is on the mouse and the mouse is the pen.’ People feel equivocal about that. Do you really move the mouse in the way you move a pen? I am not particularly computer literate so I don’t really know. I don’t think even now, even with the most sophisticated gear, you can draw a curved line how you want it drawn.
In the end, your brain starts to work in line with the equipment you’ve got. You can look at things from different angles and you can rotate them. When you get to understand the machinery, you are using it in the same way as using a pen, which, after all, is a machine in its own right. People who did cave paintings would argue that using a pen is cheating, and that we ought to be drawing with our fingers. The pen comes between you and the surface. So I wouldn’t be dogmatic at all.
Preparatory sketches for a submission for the Heathrow Terminal 5 competition. Sketchbook 17, late April 1989
When did you start drawing?
I started off at Edinburgh College of Art. There was a good respect for drawing there. We used to do life drawing. We were taught it in the sense that you had criticism of what you were doing. We would draw on heavy-weight Wattman paper and we used to mix our own Chinese inks.
Life drawing was a part of architecture education from day one. It was the first thing we did, which was quite shocking. We were 18-years-old and didn’t even know what architecture school was. For our first activity we had to draw a naked body and we thought, “what’s going on here?” There wasn’t an obvious relationship between the human body and what we had been expecting to do, which was buildings. It was a very good and interesting relationship, though, and a great way to start. We looked at rounded forms. Perspective on the human body is very difficult to draw. If you look at a limb going away from you, it’s getting thinner by perspective as well as the fact that it’s getting thinner anyway. Looking closely at that is very good training for visualising volumes.
A diagram for a Westinghouse train which would stop at every aircraft stand
How does that contrast with today?
In 1960 it was assumed that if you were an architect you could draw. Sketching and drawing form was just as important as careful draughtsmanship. It was much more a feeling of being a whole person, a complete artist. Today, young architects have a grip of computer programmes, and, apart from the non-physicality of the action, they are creating extraordinary 3D shapes.
Do you have any doubts about computer aided design?
The one doubt I have is that it feels like it’s generating itself. Things morph into something else before your brain has actually caught up with them. Whereas the way I was trained was to formulate something in your brain, and walk around and think about it and then compose it. Manipulating it in your brain before putting it down on paper. Sometimes with computers you feel you’re just making choices. You could also argue, however, that there is no difference.
Do you look back at early concept sketches as you progress through a building?
If you build buildings, you get on with it. You don’t think, “I must go back and look at my concepts to see if we are going in the same direction”. You’re always moving forward to the detail. Where did you draw these sketches? A lot of these drawings were done at meetings, sitting around a table at the time. I believe in everybody contributing: throwing ideas on the table and fighting for them.
This glazed enclosure was part of a proposal for a series of arches on the
How closely do these images relate to the final buildings?
Parts of them are there in the final structure. Other things get discarded. The value of drawing is that it helps you to feel your way towards the solution. A building where you’ve thrashed away at the technical side, the briefing side and the circulation side tends to be sterile. With hospitals, for example, you’re endlessly told the distance between the beds and the nurse’s stations, and the window size. You can work on this for years and it’s very difficult to climb back to a concept. You’re swamped with detail. I do greatly treasure those conceptual moments that happen at the early stages, where you suddenly see some influence or meaning in the project, which you hold on to… I think the best buildings do have a strong concept. In a sense you become conditioned by what the computer can draw for you, rather than what you see.
Do you encourage architects to draw?
I remember watching some school kids drawing in the Royal Academy and I said to someone, “it’s very touching isn’t it?” And she replied, “well, these kids could be the last generation that write.” And I thought maybe she’s right. Why would they write long hand when they have the facilities to type on laptops at the age of six? Which is fascinating. We used to issue black sketchbooks in the office. We’d hand them out whenever someone wanted a new one. Now I don’t know what the situation is.
We also used to make models with our hands all the time. Now most of the models are made by professionals using computerised cutting machines and rapid prototyping. At the Bartlett degreeshow last year, I found there were some beautiful models. Like drawing, model making is a wonderful way of exploring. In some ways it’s even more clear. If you create a structure in model form, you can see if the scale is wrong and can cut bits off because you’re working in 3D. I was excited to see that coming back.
What has been the main realization of editing the book of your drawings?
More than anything else, it has reminded me that drawing is a wonderful thing to do, it’s really satisfying. What it made me think – my lasting thought – has been that I should actually do more of it. As life goes on you tend to be more involved in criticism, meetings and judging, and it’s really easy to lose sight of doing things yourself. You should hold on to what your real abilities are.
What does the future hold for your practice?
Well, we are doing a lot of work in America: lots of infrastructure projects, including a huge reservoir, which provides water for the whole of New York, as well as all the landscaping and buildings related to it. It’s got a golfcourse on top. It’s a huge job. We’re also doing an open-air auditorium in Coney Island. We’re doing Fulton Transport Interchange, where all the subway lines cross, one block from Ground Zero.
We are getting involved in Railway infrastructure as well. The American railway system needs a complete upgrade. American’s don’t rely on railways as we do. They are so used to hopping on planes and treating them like buses. I remember when we first got that job in Albany, I explained that we had just come off the train from New York, and there was terrific, inspiring landscape. Suddenly they all looked a bit blank, until I realised that probably none of them had ever been on a train. They would commute up and down the Hudson. One of the lecturers then said: “oh. We don’t travel by train. We either drive or we fly”.
Nicholas Grimshaw’s sketches are on show at the Royal Academy of Arts, London, 6 November-31 January. The Sketchbooks of Sir Nicholas Grimshaw, published by the Royal Academy, is out now.
