In Newark, New Jersey, a large and deceptively nondescript building is redefining the Garden State, producing millions of pounds of food per year just outside of Manhattan. This 70,000 square foot facility has the equivalent yield of over 5 million square feet of traditional farmland. Inside, a year-round, closed-loop aeroponics system employs no pesticides and requires 95% less water than field farming. This branch of AeroFarms is not alone — it’s part of a food production revolution with projects ranging from at-home and in-store micro-farms to massive facilities set up in old factories and warehouses around the world.

Technically, vertical farming can be done outside, too, by stacking planters in natural sunlight, but indoor vertical farms offer a range of advantages. Inside, there are no seasons and specialized LED lights make it possible to grow plants continuously and cycle through various crops more easily. The controlled environment and standardization of these systems also makes automation easier. In Japan, approaches have gone predictably high-tech, with endeavors like the Vegetable Factory, which is operated entirely by robots.

Spatial containment makes recycling more efficient, mitigates spoilage and reduces the risk of diseases and pests spreading beyond a specific facility. Transportation costs and energy requirements are also reduced for farms that move into old factories and warehouses right in and around cities, putting them closer to consumers. Aeroponics in general also require less material input — mainly mist and air with minimal water and soil — leading to a lighter footprint.

What started in large and independent facilities has begun to spread into mainstream grocery stores and supermarkets, too. A few years back, Target started testing direct retail micro-farms, beginning with leafy greens before moving to tomatoes, peppers and more. Since these kinds of retail spaces are climate-controlled already for the sake of both shoppers and products, less added energy is required to maintain ideal conditions.

In Berlin, a company called INFARM recently partnered with local shops to provide similar in-store services, cutting down on farm-to-table distance right in the heart of a major European metropolis. Meanwhile, in Tokyo, vertical creepers, rice paddies and broccoli fields were integrated into the design of an otherwise Modern-looking office building, brightening up the place while also providing food for the employee cafeteria.

Taking vertical integration a step further, projects like the ReGen Villages aim to incorporate stacked farms directly into residential communities. It may sound impractical or even Utopian, but at its root the idea is relatively traditional: backyard gardens and community gardening are nothing new. Coupled with walkability and density, these kinds of green-centric towns have a lot in common with New Urbanist ideas that go back decades.

Still, it is generally wise to maintain a healthy skepticism when it comes to fresh green architectural trends and technologies and eye-catching renderings. Skyscrapers covered in greenery (or treescrapers), for instance, have proven to be popular but also problematic in practice (catchy conceptual earthscrapers, groundscrapers and sidescrapers, too, for that matter). Sometimes, more practical organic solutions are hiding in plain sight. Take wood, for instance, a historically popular green building material now finding new forms and reaching new heights in tall buildings around the world. Newer is not always better.

Some extreme vertical farming ideas may indeed prove to be far-fetched and unsustainable, but market movements suggest there is a future in these kinds of facilities and approaches. Investors are putting their money where people’s mouths are, buying up disused urban real estate and developing new indoor farming technologies. Already, vertical farming is a $2,000,000,000 industry and experts project it will grow as much as 30% per year over the next decade.

Vertical farms are of course not a complete solution to ongoing threats like climate change and mounting global food crises, but they do show promise — these endeavors are slowly breaking down urban and rural barriers, reconnecting cities with the food sources that sustain them and shortening that critical distance from farm to table.

It starts with a chair or a table, an old nightstand or vintage traveling trunk, but from there, these artifacts evolve in the hands of sculpture Ted Lott, who transforms them into complex works of miniature architecture. His goal, in part, is to illustrate the craftsmanship behind both furnishings and home construction. In many of his works, he peels back the typically unseen layers of domestic architecture, usually hidden behind layers of drywall and cladding.

“During most of our history shelters were made of local materials,” he explains, like “timber, stone, hide, grass and mud [that] provided protection from the elements. However, with the coming of the industrial revolution, locally sourced materials gave way to industrially produced ones, 2×4’s and nails replaced timbers and elaborate joinery. Today, in America and all over the world, balloon frame construction is a primary means by which shelter is created from wood.”

He uses a bandsaw and scale sawmill to make miniature lumber. Then, he says, “by combining a diminutive version of this building system with chairs and other objects pulled from the everyday domestic environment I honor the logic and engineering brilliance of stud frame construction, taking what we usually only see when we pass by construction sites, and exaggerating it in a way that renews our vision and understanding.”

“Through this process we point to the complex interaction of necessity, artistry, economy, function and beauty present in the original objects, while highlighting the possibilities of transformation and growth that are a requirement for the continuation and evolution of life.” (h/t Colossal)

A series of disused railway arches in London have become surprisingly cozy interior spaces with the addition of modular wooden systems that fit together like puzzles. Architecture firm Boano Prišmontas has developed a kit of parts that can be quickly and easily deployed in a variety of similar spaces, working with developers and local governments to make those spaces valuable to the community once more.

“The Arches Project” uses dry-joint techniques to infill abandoned “pocket spaces” around the UK, including undercrofts and multi-story car parks as well as the arches beneath railroad lines. The firm says its value lies in its “nomadic, temporary and sustainable approach.” The company that owns the railroad already rents out these spaces to pop-up shops and other businesses, but provides nothing but some neon lights and corrugated plastic lining, which doesn’t improve the thermal quality of the space, and only allows certified installers to fix the lining onto the listed brick vaults.

“Boano Prišmontas worked around this constraint to design a freestanding self-buildable plug-in space, a room-within-a-room that is built by expanding its shape as much as possible to infill the vault of an arch.

The digitally fabricated structural system is comprised of two elements:

1. The boxes. Modular CNC-cut plywood units that are repeated to infill the space as much as possible and stacked on walls to support the beams as well as the external polycarbonate cladding.

2. The beams. Modular CNC-cut plywood pieces joined together to cover a maximum span of 7.2m. They are the support onto which the insulation sheet is clipped on.

The boxes are sized to host the polycarbonate facade, which allows to fill the internal space with natural light. The polycarbonate panels also spill light on the street showing a glimpse of the activity taking place inside the space.”

Made entirely of certified birch plywood sheets, the puzzle pieces are CNC cut to minimize material wastage and ensure a perfect fit. Every component, including the facade cladding and insulation sheet, is made to be re-deployed when dismantled (a basic tenet of the Designed for Disassembly movement.)

“The railway arches are a unique urban asset as they host all sorts of retail activities and productive spaces such as studios, laboratories, workshops, mechanics, shops, micro breweries, and coworking spaces to name just a few. Railway arches are the backbone of the ‘productive London’. The Arches Project aims to preserve and promote the diversity of uses by quickly creating a spacious, warm and dry space that delivers affordable workspace for local businesses.”

Overall, this is a pretty cool example of making better use of available urban space in a way that produces very little waste. Ideally, there would also be some serious consideration given to how the project impacts its surrounding community, including whether poor and unhoused people are able to take part in it and whether the installations promote gentrification, potentially having a negative future impact on affordability in the area. Projects that don’t consider social impacts simply aren’t sustainable.

Old furniture, lamp parts and other cast-away ephemera from domestic life transform into finely crafted architectural models in the hands of artist and designer Ted Lott, who uses a bandsaw as a tiny sawmill to produce the pieces.

In a new collection of work, Lott explores the hidden lives of domestic objects like suitcases, train cases, trunks and furniture, inserting timber frame structures just as thoughtfully assembled as the real thing. Lights installed inside each one impart a sense of habitation and illuminate all of those beautiful details.

Previously, we covered Lott’s “Habitation Series,” in which vintage chairs, stools and tables are taken over by the framework of parasitic miniature architecture. The structures almost seem to have grown organically according to the proportions of the original furniture, like fungus, each one entirely unique.

In his artist statement, Lott says he draws inspiration from the replacement of hand-crafted local materials with industrially produced materials and a resulting loss of traditional skills.

“By combining a diminutive version of this building system with chairs and other objects pulled from the everyday domestic environment I honor the logic and engineering brilliance of stud frame construction, taking what we usually only see when we pass by construction sites, and exaggerating it in a way that renews our vision and understanding. The work uses the bandsaw as a scale sawmill to generate perfectly proportioned raw materials. An engagement emerges between the architecture and found objects, each bringing it’s own visual language while differently scaled systems try to occupy the same space. Unexpected solutions often emerge from the two finding ways to accommodate the other, and pointing to the deep relationship between the design of domestic objects and the architecture of the space itself.”

In a 2014 interview with 365 artists 365 days, Lott explains that he grew up living around cities as big as Chicago as well as tiny towns with populations under 400. “That tension between those two environments has continued to be a source of fascination, from the greater concentration of wealth in cities, to the differences, and similarities in the built environments and everyday lives of people who reside there,” he says.

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A post shared by Ted Lott (@tedworks)

For a sense of the scale of these works, check out Lott’s Instagram, where you can see images and videos of the work in progress.

via This is Colossal

Spirits were er, heated when this long-abandoned and reputedly haunted former Navy hospital in Oakland gave up the ghost to a mysterious fiery blaze.

Alameda Made

The blocky proto-Brutalist building at the corner of Mariner Square Drive and Marina Village Parkway in Alameda, CA has a long and checkered history dating back to the early 1940s. Those were troubling times for America: the winds of war were swirling and the nation’s gaze was firmly fixed upon developments in the Far East.

Handling the Tooth

Other developments – of a more material nature – were springing up in the country’s far west, such as the brand new Naval Air Station (NAS) Alameda. Today’s featured structure opened as a 150,000 square foot, three story tall, state-of-the-art hospital and dental clinic serving the burgeoning population of sailors, support workers and their dependents.

Building Up for Victory

As the Second World War progressed, NAS Alameda’s medical building evolved away from its clinical roots. The facility’s storage and distribution functions expanded while hands-on patient treatment shrank to the point where by sometime in the mid-1970s, activity revolved around the warehousing, distribution and administration of medical supplies.

End of a Naval Air-a

A name change was in the offing as well, with the complex officially being dubbed the “Navy FISC Administration Building”. That lasted until April 25th, 1997 when NAS Alameda was closed in accordance with BRAC (Base Realignment and Closure) procedures ordered by Congress and the DOD. In the case of NAS Alameda, the closure part went just fine – realignment, not so much.

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