I recently visited Alaska, and I was struck by the architectural vernacular here. It reminds me of my first visit to Ireland, when I began my degree. Architecture can be an identifying factor in a place. In Alaska the architecture is typically two storeys, particularly housing. I’m staying in Palmer and the typical house design seems to be detached, two storeys, split-level, with a half basement bedroom level. I find it interesting that houses have this bunker like design.
This, in downtown Palmer, is the most extreme version I have seen.
Extreme residential design – where being underground offers extra defense from winter elements.
Although most architecture I experienced adhered to a similar vernacular I’m going to focus on Palmer – as that is where I spent most time. Here the architecture is that of 1930’s colonisation. Palmer was created in 1935 when the Matanuska colony was established – initial inhabitants were housed in tents, and each family drew lots for 40 acre land parcels. It is the only Alaskan community to have developed from an agricultural lifestyle.
As with many American communities Palmer is therefore more of a planned development, than an organic progression. Which is more uncommon to my British experience of towns. The planned nature is clear in how you experience the town, with has a regular gridded road pattern.
Google Map showing an overview of the town’s design.
This map shows that although Palmer does not sit as a strictly divided square, there is a certain rigor and regularity to the town grid. Unusual angles are found as the main highway (Route 1) and the remaining railway track, and the road following it (N Valley Way, S Valley Way, S Colony Way), cuts through the town.
There is a mix of Palmer having, as many towns should, its own identity and individuality whilst also being (now I am slightly presuming) a somewhat typical American town. I guess much of the, lets call it the genius of design is that typical, necessary, and often largely repetitive (in terms of multiple towns rather than across one town) community architectural blocks have their own identities.
It is important that as architect’s we always consider the specific context, and users of a design. That does not then mean we have to bound ourselves to everything. We have the gift of being skilled designers who see problems and solutions differently. We have the imagination and drive to give different approaches and to create different opportunities. Just because a dance hall is outlawed in the fictional town of Footloose, doesn’t mean the dream is killed, or the solution impossible.
Vernacular architecture is an interesting topic because it can seem like a fixed design sphere when in fact it is far for fixed.
Vernacular means – the language and dialect of a region or area, and the architecture of domestic rather than public buildings.
Vernacular is the language of a region – and just how the verbal language is affected by the context. Where football and soccer are oceans apart, and the way language is formed is tied to how things are understood by certain peoples. Architecture is the voice of a landscape, the natural landscape varies differently and effects the way buildings design and what is given importance. Then the design of buildings voices things about the people, society, community and context.
Or at least surely should – without wanted to launch off about the International Style of architectural design seen spearheaded by some modernists – why would we want a house in India, to look like the architecture of Alaska, which mimics that of Russia. Architecture has the ability to add to the richness of a particular place – because it respects and responds to the natural, and human, needs of that context.