Barbara Eberhard's Blog - Posts Tagged "architecture"
Making the Case for Maverick
I'm calling my father's biography (tentatively - don't hold me to it) A Maverick for the Built Environment. There are different aspects of being a maverick, though. And in many ways, they all apply.
Oxford defines maverick as "an unorthodox or independent-minded person". I've interviewed a bunch of his old colleagues from various jobs. I've got his papers - well, most of them. There's no question this definition fits. Although trained as an architect, and a Fellow of the American Institute of Architects, Dad didn't design after 1958. Instead, he was interested in "systems thinking" and research. I have testimony he gave before Congress in 1972 about the need to understand how people use buildings, not just to design them.
Dictionary.com defines maverick: "a lone dissenter, as an intellectual, an artist, or a politician, who takes an independent stand apart from his or her associates." This definition also applies in that Dad challenged the AIA, including taking a small niche shell part of the AIA and turning it into a $60m organization he called the AIA Research Corporation.
Vocabulary.com has this definition: " A maverick is a rebel, someone who shows a lot of independence". In 1985, I went to work for a company - now defunct - called Codeworks Corporation. Our goal was to create a database of building codes across the country for architects to use if they were designing a building in a jurisdiction where they didn't usually. There I met an architect named Bill Brenner, who was my boss and is still my friend. He knew my father, though mostly by reputation. He was the first one who said to me, "Your father is someone that you either love or hate." What he meant was that Dad challenged the conventional thinking of architects and "rebelled" against those who were more interested in design than in the architecture my dad defined as the intersection of art, engineering, and science.
"If you describe someone as a maverick, you mean that they are unconventional and independent, and do not think or behave in the same way as other people." (Collins English Dictionary)
Yup, that's my dad.
Oxford defines maverick as "an unorthodox or independent-minded person". I've interviewed a bunch of his old colleagues from various jobs. I've got his papers - well, most of them. There's no question this definition fits. Although trained as an architect, and a Fellow of the American Institute of Architects, Dad didn't design after 1958. Instead, he was interested in "systems thinking" and research. I have testimony he gave before Congress in 1972 about the need to understand how people use buildings, not just to design them.
Dictionary.com defines maverick: "a lone dissenter, as an intellectual, an artist, or a politician, who takes an independent stand apart from his or her associates." This definition also applies in that Dad challenged the AIA, including taking a small niche shell part of the AIA and turning it into a $60m organization he called the AIA Research Corporation.
Vocabulary.com has this definition: " A maverick is a rebel, someone who shows a lot of independence". In 1985, I went to work for a company - now defunct - called Codeworks Corporation. Our goal was to create a database of building codes across the country for architects to use if they were designing a building in a jurisdiction where they didn't usually. There I met an architect named Bill Brenner, who was my boss and is still my friend. He knew my father, though mostly by reputation. He was the first one who said to me, "Your father is someone that you either love or hate." What he meant was that Dad challenged the conventional thinking of architects and "rebelled" against those who were more interested in design than in the architecture my dad defined as the intersection of art, engineering, and science.
"If you describe someone as a maverick, you mean that they are unconventional and independent, and do not think or behave in the same way as other people." (Collins English Dictionary)
Yup, that's my dad.
Dad's Lifelong Passion
Today, I again found new things about my dad. Well, not new in his ideas, but new in his professional life, which I'm writing about in my biography of him.
In 1969, Dad testified to the following in front of a Senate subcommittee: "The final point I made in my testimony which I submitted for the record and which I would like to repeat because I think it was not stressed enough today, is that when we begin any of these processes of regulating the processes of building homes, we ought not to just measure whether or not materials are adequate and whether or not buildings are structurally sound but we ought to measure whether or not these buildings meet man's need, whether or not the people who are going to live in them have their physiological, psychological, and sociological needs being met. Mr. Chairman, we are abundantly ignorant about how to do that. We really don't know how to measure man's needs in that sense."
Dad, from the time he started at the National Bureau of Standards, and possibly before that, was a proponent of "performance-based building standards". I knew this about him, because it's one of the things that a lot of the people I've talked to about Dad talk about. Because it made Dad something of a pariah in the building industry.
You see, most building codes prescribe the size of things. They are engineering based. Dad advocated for performance-based standards; that is, not prescribing how things should be done with the size of things but rather with what we are trying to accomplish with the things. Moving toward these kinds of standards was a change in thinking. It's part of what made Dad a maverick.
But what I didn't realize until now is that Dad's push for performance-based standards was an early indication of his desire to measure how the built environment works for the people who use it. Not just to make buildings better by measuring the outcomes of their use, because that makes more sense than prescribing the walls have to be so thick, etc. But to produce better outcomes for the people using those buildings, whether they are homes (as in the case of his testimony here) or churches or schools or hospitals.
This passion, as science progressed, was what he was trying to accomplish with his last career move - the Academy for Neuroscience for Architecture (ANFA). To use this new science, neuroscience, to measure human's interactions with architecture, to improve the built environment for human's use.
Maverick indeed.
In 1969, Dad testified to the following in front of a Senate subcommittee: "The final point I made in my testimony which I submitted for the record and which I would like to repeat because I think it was not stressed enough today, is that when we begin any of these processes of regulating the processes of building homes, we ought not to just measure whether or not materials are adequate and whether or not buildings are structurally sound but we ought to measure whether or not these buildings meet man's need, whether or not the people who are going to live in them have their physiological, psychological, and sociological needs being met. Mr. Chairman, we are abundantly ignorant about how to do that. We really don't know how to measure man's needs in that sense."
Dad, from the time he started at the National Bureau of Standards, and possibly before that, was a proponent of "performance-based building standards". I knew this about him, because it's one of the things that a lot of the people I've talked to about Dad talk about. Because it made Dad something of a pariah in the building industry.
You see, most building codes prescribe the size of things. They are engineering based. Dad advocated for performance-based standards; that is, not prescribing how things should be done with the size of things but rather with what we are trying to accomplish with the things. Moving toward these kinds of standards was a change in thinking. It's part of what made Dad a maverick.
But what I didn't realize until now is that Dad's push for performance-based standards was an early indication of his desire to measure how the built environment works for the people who use it. Not just to make buildings better by measuring the outcomes of their use, because that makes more sense than prescribing the walls have to be so thick, etc. But to produce better outcomes for the people using those buildings, whether they are homes (as in the case of his testimony here) or churches or schools or hospitals.
This passion, as science progressed, was what he was trying to accomplish with his last career move - the Academy for Neuroscience for Architecture (ANFA). To use this new science, neuroscience, to measure human's interactions with architecture, to improve the built environment for human's use.
Maverick indeed.
Halfway - Sort Of
As of today, I've written Dad's biography through 1972. He was born in 1927. Which means I've written about 45 of his 93 years. Almost halfway through his life.
Except that his working life was only part of those 93 years. Granted, Dad worked until he was well into his 80s; the last consulting he did was for the Brain Institute in 2010.
Still, I think it's a pretty significant accomplishment to have covered so much of Dad's life. The early chapters, about his childhood, are solely from Dad. He talks about growing up in Louisville and the time he spent on Long Island as a child. He mentions two significant women: his mother and his Aunt Minnie. These two strong women had a profound influence on Dad. His mother, who was a working nurse, nursed Dad through two bouts of rhematic fever as a child. After one of them, Dad had to learn to walk again, having been laid up in bed for months. Aunt Minnie was his refuge, I think, from the complexities of his family, with the seven children and his father, the pastor. Dad lived with Aunt Minnie and her husband, George, during his recovery and "loved her more than life itself".
After his childhood, the rest of the chapters are a combination of what Dad had written in his autobiographical notes and his book "Extraordinary Events in My Life". Interestingly, the stories in each are similar, but not quite the same. I've added my own research, as well, of course. And am including articles, obituaries, and interviews, as well.
So, as of today, the biography covers Dad's career through his tenure as the first-ever dean of architecture at the State University of New York at Buffalo.
But I have to use the term "sort of" because the years from 1972 through 2010 are many and include several more of Dad's "careers" - from the American Institute of Architects Research Corporation to the Brain Institute.
Importantly, I see the thread of Dad's career, not only in terms of being a research architect and pushing always for the science and art of architecture to get better. But also in terms of his desire for "evidence-based design" and ways to measure the built environment's impact on humankind, which culminated in his fascination with neuroscience as a possible avenue for doing just that.
For those who might be reading these blog entries, I will say that I still haven't read my way through all Dad's papers. I have started to archive the articles I've used, and as a result, can see some progress through the myriad of material in that way.
But I've got a long way to go. Even if I am halfway done - sort of.
Except that his working life was only part of those 93 years. Granted, Dad worked until he was well into his 80s; the last consulting he did was for the Brain Institute in 2010.
Still, I think it's a pretty significant accomplishment to have covered so much of Dad's life. The early chapters, about his childhood, are solely from Dad. He talks about growing up in Louisville and the time he spent on Long Island as a child. He mentions two significant women: his mother and his Aunt Minnie. These two strong women had a profound influence on Dad. His mother, who was a working nurse, nursed Dad through two bouts of rhematic fever as a child. After one of them, Dad had to learn to walk again, having been laid up in bed for months. Aunt Minnie was his refuge, I think, from the complexities of his family, with the seven children and his father, the pastor. Dad lived with Aunt Minnie and her husband, George, during his recovery and "loved her more than life itself".
After his childhood, the rest of the chapters are a combination of what Dad had written in his autobiographical notes and his book "Extraordinary Events in My Life". Interestingly, the stories in each are similar, but not quite the same. I've added my own research, as well, of course. And am including articles, obituaries, and interviews, as well.
So, as of today, the biography covers Dad's career through his tenure as the first-ever dean of architecture at the State University of New York at Buffalo.
But I have to use the term "sort of" because the years from 1972 through 2010 are many and include several more of Dad's "careers" - from the American Institute of Architects Research Corporation to the Brain Institute.
Importantly, I see the thread of Dad's career, not only in terms of being a research architect and pushing always for the science and art of architecture to get better. But also in terms of his desire for "evidence-based design" and ways to measure the built environment's impact on humankind, which culminated in his fascination with neuroscience as a possible avenue for doing just that.
For those who might be reading these blog entries, I will say that I still haven't read my way through all Dad's papers. I have started to archive the articles I've used, and as a result, can see some progress through the myriad of material in that way.
But I've got a long way to go. Even if I am halfway done - sort of.
Notability Questions
When I first started writing about my father, John Paul Eberhard, it was to - unfortunately - put together his obituary.
I had actually written an obituary for our mother first, as she died first. She was in hospice for 10 days, which gave me a chance to think about what to write and to do a little research about her. That obituary was published on the Ever Loved website when she died on April 12, 2020. I knew when I wrote Mom's obituary that the only people who would really be interested were family and friends.
However, when I started writing Dad's obituary - shortly after Mom's - I had the idea that, because Dad was well known in his industry, the obituary might get shared more broadly. And therefore, it should probably be reasonably accurate. It also proved fortuitous as Dad ended up dying only two weeks after Mom. I think I've written about that before.
Dad's obituary then became the basis for an article to try to get him into Wikipedia. Now, like most of you, I've always thought Wikipedia was open to any editor, meaning anyone could update any entry. I guess I assumed there would be some kind of control over changes, but Wikipedia also seemed to be "open".
So imagine my surprise when my first draft of an article on Dad was summarily - and probably rightly - rejected. First, the Wikipedia editors - who are a real thing - didn't like that I was Dad's daughter. They prefer that entries come from folks interested in a topic, but not so close as a child. Second, they didn't like my "flowery" language. I talked about Dad being innovative; they didn't like that. I talked about Dad being a visionary; they didn't like that. Third, and most importantly, they didn't see anything about Dad's career that was "notable".
The question of notability is an interesting one, therefore. I did finally get Dad into Wikipedia on the strength of his having be awarded the LaTrobe Prize by the AIA, a biennial $100,000 prize, which was co-awarded to the Academy of Neuroscience for Architecture (ANFA) to help fund/start the organization.
But the more I dig into Dad's history and career, the more I would argue makes him notable.
One thing he did early in his career was argue for and find funding for the creation of the National Conference of State Building Codes and Standards (NCSBCS).
Before that, he helped drive the development of the first computerized hotel reservation system, in a joint project between Sheraton Corporation and Hilton Hotels.
He testified before Congressional committees at least twice that I've found so far, once on the funding of the National Science Foundation (NSF) and once about plans to create the National Institute of Building Sciences (NIBS).
Dad was the first-ever dean of architecture at the State University of New York at Buffalo (SUNYAB), where he started a new concept in graduate school programs to give the students practicum experience as well as classroom instruction at the Buffalo Organization for Social and Technological Innovation (BOSTI), patterned after Organization for Social and Technological Innovation (OSTI) in Cambridge, MA.
He essentially created the American Institute of Architects Research Corporation (AIARC), which had been a sort of "holding company" within the AIA, but hadn't actually done any research. When he left, AIARC had grown to 60 people with a budget of $10 million.
And then there's ANFA and the LaTrobe prize, and a couple of books and, and, and...
But there are other instances of things that, I would argue, make Dad notable.
Perhaps the most interesting one is that there are 21 boxes of his papers, writing, correspondence, drawings, and everything else career-related at the American Heritage Center at the University of Wyoming. "Officially established in 1945, the Center now holds over 90,000 cubic feet of historic documents and artifacts in more than 3500 collections—placing the AHC among the largest non-governmental archives in the nation." AHC had contacted Dad in 1981 wanting to see if he would be willing to have them be the archive of his papers as part of their Contemporary History collection. Dad was both "flattered and dismayed" by the request, because he didn't think he was at the point of his career where archivists would be interested in him. However, he sent off papers in 1982 and then more and more throughout his career. The original inventory I have from 1984 said the archive contained 13 boxes. Now, in 2023, it's 21 boxes.
So, Wikipedia, I would think that Dad being one of only 3,500 collections at a place called the "American Heritage Center" would also qualify him as being notable. And, in fact, there's a hyperlink to his collection at AHC on the Wikipedia article for Dad.
So there.
I had actually written an obituary for our mother first, as she died first. She was in hospice for 10 days, which gave me a chance to think about what to write and to do a little research about her. That obituary was published on the Ever Loved website when she died on April 12, 2020. I knew when I wrote Mom's obituary that the only people who would really be interested were family and friends.
However, when I started writing Dad's obituary - shortly after Mom's - I had the idea that, because Dad was well known in his industry, the obituary might get shared more broadly. And therefore, it should probably be reasonably accurate. It also proved fortuitous as Dad ended up dying only two weeks after Mom. I think I've written about that before.
Dad's obituary then became the basis for an article to try to get him into Wikipedia. Now, like most of you, I've always thought Wikipedia was open to any editor, meaning anyone could update any entry. I guess I assumed there would be some kind of control over changes, but Wikipedia also seemed to be "open".
So imagine my surprise when my first draft of an article on Dad was summarily - and probably rightly - rejected. First, the Wikipedia editors - who are a real thing - didn't like that I was Dad's daughter. They prefer that entries come from folks interested in a topic, but not so close as a child. Second, they didn't like my "flowery" language. I talked about Dad being innovative; they didn't like that. I talked about Dad being a visionary; they didn't like that. Third, and most importantly, they didn't see anything about Dad's career that was "notable".
The question of notability is an interesting one, therefore. I did finally get Dad into Wikipedia on the strength of his having be awarded the LaTrobe Prize by the AIA, a biennial $100,000 prize, which was co-awarded to the Academy of Neuroscience for Architecture (ANFA) to help fund/start the organization.
But the more I dig into Dad's history and career, the more I would argue makes him notable.
One thing he did early in his career was argue for and find funding for the creation of the National Conference of State Building Codes and Standards (NCSBCS).
Before that, he helped drive the development of the first computerized hotel reservation system, in a joint project between Sheraton Corporation and Hilton Hotels.
He testified before Congressional committees at least twice that I've found so far, once on the funding of the National Science Foundation (NSF) and once about plans to create the National Institute of Building Sciences (NIBS).
Dad was the first-ever dean of architecture at the State University of New York at Buffalo (SUNYAB), where he started a new concept in graduate school programs to give the students practicum experience as well as classroom instruction at the Buffalo Organization for Social and Technological Innovation (BOSTI), patterned after Organization for Social and Technological Innovation (OSTI) in Cambridge, MA.
He essentially created the American Institute of Architects Research Corporation (AIARC), which had been a sort of "holding company" within the AIA, but hadn't actually done any research. When he left, AIARC had grown to 60 people with a budget of $10 million.
And then there's ANFA and the LaTrobe prize, and a couple of books and, and, and...
But there are other instances of things that, I would argue, make Dad notable.
Perhaps the most interesting one is that there are 21 boxes of his papers, writing, correspondence, drawings, and everything else career-related at the American Heritage Center at the University of Wyoming. "Officially established in 1945, the Center now holds over 90,000 cubic feet of historic documents and artifacts in more than 3500 collections—placing the AHC among the largest non-governmental archives in the nation." AHC had contacted Dad in 1981 wanting to see if he would be willing to have them be the archive of his papers as part of their Contemporary History collection. Dad was both "flattered and dismayed" by the request, because he didn't think he was at the point of his career where archivists would be interested in him. However, he sent off papers in 1982 and then more and more throughout his career. The original inventory I have from 1984 said the archive contained 13 boxes. Now, in 2023, it's 21 boxes.
So, Wikipedia, I would think that Dad being one of only 3,500 collections at a place called the "American Heritage Center" would also qualify him as being notable. And, in fact, there's a hyperlink to his collection at AHC on the Wikipedia article for Dad.
So there.
Paying Heed to Living Memory
As I continue my progress on Dad's biography, I've reached the point where the description of his work is part of the memories of people still living - people I've interviewed, people who worked for Dad, and people who will know whether what I say is completely accurate or not. Thus, the task of writing these chapters is more daunting than it was writing about Dad's early years, where no one alive still has those memories or will know if what I've written is accurate.
In the '70s, Dad was president of an organization called the American Institute of Architects Research Corporation. I have interviewed at least a half dozen of the young people who worked for Dad at AIA/RC. Most of them, at least the ones I've talked to, have gone on to have amazing and prolific careers in architecture, academia, and research. And they all, also, continued to have a relationship with my father. Almost all of them talk about being mentored by Dad.
Dad had his faults, to be sure. But one of his greatest strengths was his belief in young people. More than one of the people I've interviewed have talked about that. It wasn't just these folks from the '70s that Dad mentored. He mentored young people as late as his days at ANFA in the 2003-2005 timeframe when he was in his 70s already.
And so, it is those young people - some of whom, like me, are not so young any longer - whose memories and mentorship I need to honor as I write these next chapters.
Fortunately, most of them have agreed to be a critical reader once the biography is completed. And I'm sure - because we are all humans - some will remember events one way and others another way.
But the one thing that's clear is that this biography isn't just my attempt to give my father's life's work meaning and acknowledgement. It's also an opportunity to pay heed to the living memory of those who came after him, who were mentored by him, who worked with him repeatedly, and who have - through their own living - changed the world of architecture, as well.
In the '70s, Dad was president of an organization called the American Institute of Architects Research Corporation. I have interviewed at least a half dozen of the young people who worked for Dad at AIA/RC. Most of them, at least the ones I've talked to, have gone on to have amazing and prolific careers in architecture, academia, and research. And they all, also, continued to have a relationship with my father. Almost all of them talk about being mentored by Dad.
Dad had his faults, to be sure. But one of his greatest strengths was his belief in young people. More than one of the people I've interviewed have talked about that. It wasn't just these folks from the '70s that Dad mentored. He mentored young people as late as his days at ANFA in the 2003-2005 timeframe when he was in his 70s already.
And so, it is those young people - some of whom, like me, are not so young any longer - whose memories and mentorship I need to honor as I write these next chapters.
Fortunately, most of them have agreed to be a critical reader once the biography is completed. And I'm sure - because we are all humans - some will remember events one way and others another way.
But the one thing that's clear is that this biography isn't just my attempt to give my father's life's work meaning and acknowledgement. It's also an opportunity to pay heed to the living memory of those who came after him, who were mentored by him, who worked with him repeatedly, and who have - through their own living - changed the world of architecture, as well.
Is It More About the Doing or About the Thinking?
When I first started to think about writing Dad's biography, I wondered how I - not being an architect - would be able to write effectively about Dad's career in architecture. I figured I was reasonably smart, and my role in proposal management for a government contractor, means I'm constantly reading and evaluating documents about subject matters on which I have little expertise. I figured I'd make it work. Or call on his colleagues and my niece if I couldn't.
But what I'm finding - as I'm pursuing my theme of my father as a maverick - is that what Dad did is only part of his being a maverick. In many ways, it's not what he did that makes him a maverick, but how he did it.
For example, being a dean of at a new school of architecture is pretty maverick-y. Having to put new degree programs in place, get accreditation for the programs, and hire faculty - not to mention attracting students - requires a person who has some charisma and chutzpah. Dad had both in spades.
But he also wasn't interested in designing a tradition architecture program at SUNYAB. He was interested in systems thinking and in getting the students to see that they had to be project managers, as much as designers, because getting a building built requires the expertise of many skilled craftspeople. Both of these ideas were new in the early '70s. I won't say unique, because I don't have the expertise to say that. But definitely maverick-y.
Today's writing was about Dad's next venture - the American Institute of Architects Research Corporation (AIA/RC). By now, it's the mid to late '70s, and energy conservation is on everyone's minds. The AIA/RC coined the term "energy conscious design" and proselytized about it to as many of the 87 schools of architecture as would listen. They held design contests for students in the same subject. They wrote books and published magazines on this topic and others that AIA/RC had been hired to pursue for the federal government, which was just learning - from Dad - that it needed to pay attention to architecture - for energy conservation, but also life safety and other reasons.
But there are other aspects to Dad's job that are at least as important as what AIA/RC did. First, he was again pushing systems thinking and "asking the right question". Second, he was more interested in performance-based standards - whether the design accomplished its goals - than in strict engineering standards about how thick the walls needed to be or how many windows a building needed to have. Third, he was a mentor to a group of young people, many of whom either had already worked for him and followed him to AIA/RC or who worked for him again in their careers. He was "raising" a new school of architects who thought as he did about systems thinking and performance-based standards and asking the right question.
And to me, that's where his being a maverick had the biggest impact.
But what I'm finding - as I'm pursuing my theme of my father as a maverick - is that what Dad did is only part of his being a maverick. In many ways, it's not what he did that makes him a maverick, but how he did it.
For example, being a dean of at a new school of architecture is pretty maverick-y. Having to put new degree programs in place, get accreditation for the programs, and hire faculty - not to mention attracting students - requires a person who has some charisma and chutzpah. Dad had both in spades.
But he also wasn't interested in designing a tradition architecture program at SUNYAB. He was interested in systems thinking and in getting the students to see that they had to be project managers, as much as designers, because getting a building built requires the expertise of many skilled craftspeople. Both of these ideas were new in the early '70s. I won't say unique, because I don't have the expertise to say that. But definitely maverick-y.
Today's writing was about Dad's next venture - the American Institute of Architects Research Corporation (AIA/RC). By now, it's the mid to late '70s, and energy conservation is on everyone's minds. The AIA/RC coined the term "energy conscious design" and proselytized about it to as many of the 87 schools of architecture as would listen. They held design contests for students in the same subject. They wrote books and published magazines on this topic and others that AIA/RC had been hired to pursue for the federal government, which was just learning - from Dad - that it needed to pay attention to architecture - for energy conservation, but also life safety and other reasons.
But there are other aspects to Dad's job that are at least as important as what AIA/RC did. First, he was again pushing systems thinking and "asking the right question". Second, he was more interested in performance-based standards - whether the design accomplished its goals - than in strict engineering standards about how thick the walls needed to be or how many windows a building needed to have. Third, he was a mentor to a group of young people, many of whom either had already worked for him and followed him to AIA/RC or who worked for him again in their careers. He was "raising" a new school of architects who thought as he did about systems thinking and performance-based standards and asking the right question.
And to me, that's where his being a maverick had the biggest impact.
Citations
Today, I spent the first hour of "writing" updating the endnotes in Dad's biography to be formal citations, instead of just hyperlinks to websites or my notes so I would remember where the information came from. I haven't done formal citations since graduate school in 1985. And there was no such thing as websites in those days. So, I actually wasn't sure how to do website citations.
I had been kind of hoping I could just find some app that would go through all the websites and convert them to citations. To be honest, such a thing may or may not exist.
But instead, I used Grammarly. It worked very well for articles and books I'd found through searches.
The only challenge I've found has been, while a lot of the entries on the websites have attribution for the author, many do not. Grammarly didn't have guidance for when there's no author. It also wanted me to put "n.d." for no date, which seemed odd to me. So, I used my best judgment about how to cite a more "generic" page. I think I've gotten to a good place, but it was a bit of a guess.
Another thing I'm going to have to look up is how to cite from personal correspondence or interviews I've conducted. Again, I've come up with my own format for these things in the absence of other sources; Grammarly doesn't have anything on this kind of source material. The reason this is important is I'd like this biography to eventually get published by a publishing house, so I'm trying to do things in the "right way", to make the manuscript look professional - even though I'm obviously not a professional biographer.
Likewise, I'm struggling with how to do repeat citations. Grammarly and other editorial sites said you can use "ibid", which I remember from college and graduate school, if the citation is one that immediately follows the same source. But I remember "opcit" for when it was a citation of a source used before but not immediately above. And neither Grammarly nor other sources had this. Instead, they recommended "Reference #, Page #". I suppose that will work, but it means I have to wait until I'm done with the writing to know what the Reference # should be.
Bottom line is I've converted most of the endnotes to actual citations at this point. But doing so definitely took me back to almost 40 years ago.
I had been kind of hoping I could just find some app that would go through all the websites and convert them to citations. To be honest, such a thing may or may not exist.
But instead, I used Grammarly. It worked very well for articles and books I'd found through searches.
The only challenge I've found has been, while a lot of the entries on the websites have attribution for the author, many do not. Grammarly didn't have guidance for when there's no author. It also wanted me to put "n.d." for no date, which seemed odd to me. So, I used my best judgment about how to cite a more "generic" page. I think I've gotten to a good place, but it was a bit of a guess.
Another thing I'm going to have to look up is how to cite from personal correspondence or interviews I've conducted. Again, I've come up with my own format for these things in the absence of other sources; Grammarly doesn't have anything on this kind of source material. The reason this is important is I'd like this biography to eventually get published by a publishing house, so I'm trying to do things in the "right way", to make the manuscript look professional - even though I'm obviously not a professional biographer.
Likewise, I'm struggling with how to do repeat citations. Grammarly and other editorial sites said you can use "ibid", which I remember from college and graduate school, if the citation is one that immediately follows the same source. But I remember "opcit" for when it was a citation of a source used before but not immediately above. And neither Grammarly nor other sources had this. Instead, they recommended "Reference #, Page #". I suppose that will work, but it means I have to wait until I'm done with the writing to know what the Reference # should be.
Bottom line is I've converted most of the endnotes to actual citations at this point. But doing so definitely took me back to almost 40 years ago.
Tributes
As I continue to work on Dad's biography, the theme I try to keep in the front of my mind - and my writing - is how Dad was trying to change the world. Today, though, I revisited the tributes that had come in after he passed, and I was reminded again why I took on the task of writing his biography in the first place.
Person after person talked about how knowing Dad changed their life, mostly by changing their way of thinking. The architects talk about how he used systems thinking in his way of approaching architecture and how unique that was. Others point to performance-based design, which Dad pushed for, as opposed to the more traditional engineering design.
But when you get to the part of Dad's life where he's meeting with neuroscientists and medical professionals, and he's convincing them that the study of what he called (invented?) neuroarchitecture has merit? That's when the really amazing stuff comes out.
So the thread that I keep trying to pull on is that all of his early thinking - his maverick-ness - led to the idea that architecture and its impact could be measured, and more importantly, could lead to improving people's lives. Systems thinking made Dad see the connectivity between all the elements of building design, as well as the built environment. Performance-based measurement was an early way of getting to the important part of design - it doesn't matter as much how thick the walls are or how much light the windows let in - it matters what impact those things have on the people within the space. Numerous studies have tried to measure why this design is better than that design - for learning, for health, for mental capacity - for humans! With neuroscience, Dad finally believed he had found the means to quantify the impact and get the science and the engineering and the art to meet - to the betterment of the human.
Person after person talked about how knowing Dad changed their life, mostly by changing their way of thinking. The architects talk about how he used systems thinking in his way of approaching architecture and how unique that was. Others point to performance-based design, which Dad pushed for, as opposed to the more traditional engineering design.
But when you get to the part of Dad's life where he's meeting with neuroscientists and medical professionals, and he's convincing them that the study of what he called (invented?) neuroarchitecture has merit? That's when the really amazing stuff comes out.
So the thread that I keep trying to pull on is that all of his early thinking - his maverick-ness - led to the idea that architecture and its impact could be measured, and more importantly, could lead to improving people's lives. Systems thinking made Dad see the connectivity between all the elements of building design, as well as the built environment. Performance-based measurement was an early way of getting to the important part of design - it doesn't matter as much how thick the walls are or how much light the windows let in - it matters what impact those things have on the people within the space. Numerous studies have tried to measure why this design is better than that design - for learning, for health, for mental capacity - for humans! With neuroscience, Dad finally believed he had found the means to quantify the impact and get the science and the engineering and the art to meet - to the betterment of the human.
ANFA
Today's writing in Dad's biography was both the easiest and the hardest.
It was the easiest because there is so much material from the founding of the Academy of Neuroscience for Architecture (ANFA) to its continued work. Since ANFA started in 2003, it's entire journey has been in the days of the Internet. There are videos of its annual conference online, including some at which Dad presented. Dad also wrote quite a bit about ANFA in his autobiographical files. ANFA has a website and some of the material was taken from there. I had lots to work with.
On the other hand, not wanting to make the chapter the entire book, it was hard to narrow down the topics covered and get to the meat of what I wanted to say - which was about Dad's vision for ANFA. As well as the continued challenges ANFA has in trying to bring that vision to life. I had quotes from a lot of people, as well, as Dad involved almost everyone he'd known in ANFA in some capacity of another.
The chapter ended up at 16 pages, which is the longest of them all, but not outrageous. I'm sure there will be editing to come. And I'm hoping that some of the thinner chapters get fleshed out a bit more by the reviewers/interviewees who have agreed to review and edit the book.
It was the easiest because there is so much material from the founding of the Academy of Neuroscience for Architecture (ANFA) to its continued work. Since ANFA started in 2003, it's entire journey has been in the days of the Internet. There are videos of its annual conference online, including some at which Dad presented. Dad also wrote quite a bit about ANFA in his autobiographical files. ANFA has a website and some of the material was taken from there. I had lots to work with.
On the other hand, not wanting to make the chapter the entire book, it was hard to narrow down the topics covered and get to the meat of what I wanted to say - which was about Dad's vision for ANFA. As well as the continued challenges ANFA has in trying to bring that vision to life. I had quotes from a lot of people, as well, as Dad involved almost everyone he'd known in ANFA in some capacity of another.
The chapter ended up at 16 pages, which is the longest of them all, but not outrageous. I'm sure there will be editing to come. And I'm hoping that some of the thinner chapters get fleshed out a bit more by the reviewers/interviewees who have agreed to review and edit the book.
I May Be Done
At least with the first draft of Dad's biography. Today, I finished the principal writing on the book. I have a proof coming from Amazon.
In last week's blog on Rich People's Problems, I talked about wanting the book to be between 300-350 pages. Dad's biography is less than 200 pages right now. But I feel as though that's okay, because I feel as though I said what needed saying.
Now, the process will be for me to do an edit. I've ordered a paperback version, which I can use for the edit. But also will give me a sense of what the biography looks like. I've never published in color before, so I will be curious how that works, including the photographs throughout the book.
And I will also send the biography out for review by the people I interviewed. I've never done that before, either. Never let others review what I've written. But I've never written a biography before. And I'm not an architect or a neuroscientist. So, while I think I've gotten things right, I need the experts to review. Also, most of these folks worked for Dad - some several times. So, they will have a different perspective that way, as well.
I'm nervous as hell.
In last week's blog on Rich People's Problems, I talked about wanting the book to be between 300-350 pages. Dad's biography is less than 200 pages right now. But I feel as though that's okay, because I feel as though I said what needed saying.
Now, the process will be for me to do an edit. I've ordered a paperback version, which I can use for the edit. But also will give me a sense of what the biography looks like. I've never published in color before, so I will be curious how that works, including the photographs throughout the book.
And I will also send the biography out for review by the people I interviewed. I've never done that before, either. Never let others review what I've written. But I've never written a biography before. And I'm not an architect or a neuroscientist. So, while I think I've gotten things right, I need the experts to review. Also, most of these folks worked for Dad - some several times. So, they will have a different perspective that way, as well.
I'm nervous as hell.
