Main Entry: 1con•tem•po•rary
Pronunciation: k&n-'tem-p&-"rer-E
Function: adjective
Etymology: com- + Latin tempor-, tempus
1 : happening, existing, living, or coming into being during the same period of time
2 a : SIMULTANEOUS b : marked by characteristics of the present period : MODERN, CURRENT

This was the definition of contemporary according to Merriam-Webster. Harry chuckled at the inclusion of MODERN as one of its synonyms. “marked by the characteristics of the present period.” Deceptively simple, this definition summed up everything he had been able to find on contemporary architecture.

An internet search had turned up anything you could possibly want to know about contemporary architecture, but nothing he could actually use. Typical of such a fickle oracle.

It was beginning to appear that there was no such thing as a contemporary architectural style, but a multifaceted gestalt of recent trends. Projects were not described in terms of which style they represented, but were analyzed in how they selectively interwove elements from these different schools of thought. Maybe when historians looked back on our century they would find some sort of label to apply to what we built as a whole, but for now it seemed ‘contemporary’ was the best anyone could come up with.

Was style dead?

The implications of the question bothered him. If style was indeed dead, how did anyone know what to design? What did they teach as design in schools these days if there was no prevailing school of architectural thought?

These thoughts echoed around in his head as he turned his focus on squeezing his truck between a poorly parked gas-electric hybrid that looked to be made completely out of plastic, and an immaculately kept police cruiser. He flicked his blinker to telegraph his intent to take the parking spot. No matter how legal his activities were, he was always irrationally nervous around cops while he was driving. The angle of the hybrid actually made his job easier for him as he swung his front end around parallel to the curb. He waited for a car to pass before opening his door.

He hadn’t had good sushi in quite a while, and the faint smell of wasabi and ginger made his stomach growl. As he approached the entrance, the thought of seeing his old protégé again brought a smile to his face, but he couldn’t help but feeling a little embarrassed about the actual purpose for this meeting. He had never liked asking for help, particularly from someone he hadn’t seen in quite a while.

He walked awkwardly past the restaurants greeter, trying to communicate with body language that he was here meet someone, and no, he didn’t need to be seated.

“Harry!”

He looked across the place to see a familiar face standing up from a booth on the other side of the room.

He replied with a wave as he began to weave between the tables towards his friend.

They met with a firm handshake that turned into one-handed hug/pat on the back.

“It’s good to see you Matt.”

“Yeah, you to. You look great!”

“You mean I look old.”

“You look pretty damn young to someone who actually knows your age.”

Harry thought about that for half a second and decided that it really was a compliment. “Thanks, how are you enjoying fatherhood?”

“It definitely has its moments, although I haven’t gotten this little sleep since I graduated.”

“So she doesn’t sleep through the night yet?”

“No, not yet. When she does, I’ll be the happiest father on earth.”

Conversation paused when the waitress came, and they ordered a couple of Japanese beers. With Matt’s consent, Harry had the waitress move them to the patio. He liked the Zen-garden feel it had, and how it managed to screen them perceptually from the city without completely enclosing them. He also liked that they allowed smoking on their patio. He sat and rolled a cigarette while Matt took a taste of the beer.

“It’s not bad.”

“Never had Japanese before?”

“No, it’s quite good though. You mind rolling me one of those?”

“I thought you’d quit.”

“I have quit. I haven’t had a smoke in years, but you know I can’t resist one of your hand-rolled ones. Just the smell of it’s bringing back memories.”

“Ok, just don’t let Amy know. She’ll never forgive me.”

“Heh. Hiding cigarettes. It’ll be just like highschool.”

With the fluid speed only years of practice can bring, Harry rolled another cigarette and handed it to Matt.

“Thanks.” Matt coughed a little after his first drag. “Man, it’s been a while. I’m actually getting a little nicotine buzz. Really is just like highschool. So to what do I owe this rare social visit?”

“Maybe I just wanted to catch up with an old friend.”

“I know you a little better than that, Harry. As soon as you called I knew you had something on your mind, so what is it?”

“I’ve got this problem-“

“I knew it! Sorry, go on”

“For my grandson’s birthday I offered to design a treehouse for him. He loved the idea, but all my ideas just seem so old to him. I need something contemporary.”

“So you want me to design it for you?”

“No, nothing like that. I’ve been trying to research contemporary styles of architecture, and-“

“Let me guess, you can’t find any.”

“Yes!”

“Design isn’t what it used to be. ‘Style’ these days is a four letter word, at least when it’s used superficially.”

“So what guides design if not style?”

“Well, it depends on the designer. There is a new school of thought that might help in this case called tectonics.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the contemporary styles I found in my research.”

“Tectonics isn’t actually a style, as much as it is a way of thinking about building. There’s a lot more to it than that, but it’d take more than my lunch hour to get into it.”

“Could you suggest any books or other references for me?”

“Yeah, I’ll email you some ideas. So how is little Seth doing?”

They filled the rest of the meal with more small talk, catching up on the last couple of years. Harry rolled Matt another smoke for the road when he left, and lit his own while he waited for the check. It had been good catching up with an old friend, but he was now more confused than ever. He only hoped Matt was right about this tectonics.

Harry sat at his drafting table, pencil in hand, staring at his third blank sheet of paper in as many hours. The piles of discarded drawings littering his study loomed monumentally, the quiet tombs of once great ideas. It would begin to get dark soon.

It had taken a mere 5 minute conversation with Seth to come up with a program for the treehouse. What he wanted sounded so simple – a room large enough to hold him and a few of his friends, and a more elevated ‘lookout-nest’ just large enough to hold Seth. The question that still had Harry stumped was how to do it. His attempts to mimic the various styles of the day’s contemporary architects had led to more polite rejections from his grandson.

He sighed and set aside the model he had been studying and picked up another. He smiled as he turned it in his hand, thinking of the smile on his grandson’s face when he had first seen them, the only truly positive reaction out of the poor child since this project had begun. They had spent hours on the living room floor playing with the dozens of quick foam core sketches he had brought for critique. Seth had shown a natural ability for abstract thought and with a little coaxing revealed some jewels of insight into his next round of morphological decisions. As much as these discussions helped, they told Harry nothing of the style the project should adopt. In that he was as in the dark as ever.

With another sigh, Harry stood up. He was getting nowhere and he was due for dinner at his son’s in an hour. He cleaned up, gathered the most presentable of his latest drawings and got in his truck. The ride was just long enough to air the car out after a quick smoke so he wouldn’t walk in to the dinner table smelling like an ashtray. When he pulled up to the house he could tell by the cars in the driveway that Kim and Derek were both home from work already and were probably just waiting on him to start dinner.

Derek answered the door with a hug. “Hey dad.”

“Hey son. Where are the boys?”

“They’re out back with their mother, let me check on dinner and I’ll walk you out there.”

Derek fussed with the dials on the stove then they walked towards the back door. Harry couldn’t help but notice he seemed nervous.

“You ok son? You seem a bit on edge today.”

“Yeah, I’m ok it’s just… well you’ll see.”

And as they stepped into the backyard Harry did see. Right in front of the beautiful pine Harry had become so familiar with in the last month stood a plastic, prepackaged swing-set/fort hybrid. The designer even had the audacity to tack a sign on the front that said ‘tree fort’. Harry felt sick. Derek had stopped a few paces past him - he must have stopped walking when he saw it.

“You could have warned me.”

“I wanted you to see for yourself how much Seth loves it.”

“He would have loved mine more.”

“I’m sorry dad, but you were just taking to long. You promised the poor kid a treehouse almost a month ago, and his birthday was last Tuesday. For the last five days he’s been just-”

“I never promised him a treehouse.”

“What?” Derek asked, confused.

“I’m an architect. I offer services, not products. I promised him the service of designing a treehouse, not a treehouse.”

Derek put his arm around his father, “I know dad, and you’re doing the best damn job of it possible. When you’re done I’m sure it will be the envy of any kid that sees it, but when you told Seth you would design him a treehouse for his birthday, he expected a treehouse on his birthday. I never told you, but he cried that night after you left.”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“Don’t be, I’m sure he’s forgiven you. And he loved those little models you made. Those were brilliant. Anyway, this tree fort will keep him happy until you finish your design.”

“Wait, you mean…”

“Grandpa!!!”

At the sound of his grandson’s voice Harry braced himself for the hug that always followed. Seth was getting older and soon Harry would have to ask him to use less than all of his strength to hug him. He was getting older as quick as Seth was, and while time was making him weaker, it was only making his grandson stronger. It wouldn’t be to long until Seth would be able to crack a rib if he wasn’t careful, but for now Harry just held his breath and hugged him back.

“Did you see my fort?”

“Our fort!” came the cry as Ethan joined the hug.

“That’s right Ethan, this one’s both of yours, now lets go get dinner out of the oven while your dad and grandpa finish talking.”

“Thanks honey.”

“Nice to see you Kim.”

“Lets go kids”

“I can’t wait for my fort, it’s gonna be the coolest, right grandpa?” Seth said, beaming at his grandpa.

“That’s right Seth, now go help your mother.”

A smile lit Harry’s face as Seth ran back to the house. They stayed for awhile, watching the sun finally drop below the horizon, tired after a full day of shining. When they started back toward the house, Harry was the one that was beaming. His head was full of ideas, ironically inspired by the plastic and wood monstrosity now sitting in his son’s backyard. His treehouse would be everything that it wasn’t. It would be a real treehouse. And Seth was right, it would be the coolest.”

Harry poured himself another cup of coffee as he took another drag on his cigarette. He read the paragraph again, this time trying to concentrate. This research made him feel so old, feeling his brain ache while he force fed it truckloads of new information and concepts. He hadn’t felt this old since his son had taught him how to use a computer. Harry had become fairly proficient at it over the last couple of years (for someone his age), although he still saw it much like driving a car. He was good as long as nothing went wrong, but if the machine started making funny sounds and acting unpredictably he took it to a mechanic, who in this case was his son.

He stared at the period at the end of the paragraph, realizing he had read it on autopilot again. He needed a break. As useful as the internet was, he still hated reading from a screen. Whether it was just his own oldfashionedness, or something physiological he much preferred the printed page.

His research on treehouses had been relatively easy. There were a surprising number of websites out there devoted to just that topic. He was now the local expert on fixed vs. flexible jointing, and the stresses involved in building around a tree.

It had been years since he had built his own treehouse behind the house he had grown up in. The design had been simple – a single platform nestled amid three branches of a large cedar tree. He chuckled as he remembered the dozens of nails that held each board to the tree, testament to the sheer will that would hold the thing up should the design itself fail.

The treehouse he looked at now would prove both simpler and more complex than its predecessor. The natural shape of the cedar had lent itself well to supporting a stable structure. There were a number of places he could have placed the platform in the tree, all he had needed were three branches to which he could attach his structure. The spread of the branches had determined the triangular structure, defining the largest possible area for his platform. He had then decked the platform, clipping its corners to create a hexagonal shape.

Seth’s tree was a pine. It wasn’t an open field pine with that beautiful Christmas tree shape, branching out as soon as it left the dirt. Their house backed up to a pine forest, and this was a typical forest pine. The trunk shot straight up without so much as a bend until it reached the forest canopy, where it branched out to capture the sunlight. At ten to fifteen feet all they had to attach the structure to was the trunk itself. The tree was strong and healthy, and judging by the forest around it had another six inches or so before its trunk reached its mature diameter.

Based on these criteria, he began to sketch the beginnings of a structural system. Attaching the structure to the trunk had stumped him at first. At the height they were building, there were no branches of significant size to brace the structure against torsion. He had considered dropping cables to do the job, but had decided against it. He liked the idea of having all of the structure in the tree itself, leaving the forest floor unobstructed. His next iteration involved a radial truss system cantilevered from the tree, tied to the trunk at the top and toe-nailed to it at the bottom. He abandoned this idea also, worried that the right combination of wind loads could lift the toe-nails out, dropping it to the ground.

He eventually found the solution in his research. Harry had assumed that the living part of the tree was in the interior, while the outside served only to protect it. His research told him just the opposite. The inside of the tree serves mainly as structure, while the outer inch or so carries its nutrients. Based on this, piercing the tree with a bolt damages it less than nailing wood directly to its surface. This way, the structure is attached more directly to the structure of the tree, and any movement in the joint won’t wear away the bark and expose the tree’s living tissue.

His final design involved drilling through the tree in two places – one near the top of the structure and one near the bottom. A galvanized steel pipe would go in the hole, and a threaded metal dowel would go in the pipe. A wooden ‘ring’ would then be attached to each, the top acting in tension and the bottom in compression. Rotation around the dowels would be solved by orienting them perpendicularly to each other, so the rotation of one would be braced against the fixed axis of the other. The structure would then be built out from these two rings in a radial truss system, or some sort of space frame.

Thanks to Matt, he had even found a lead on a viable design method to apply to the structure. This tectonics, supposedly the latest thing in the academic circles, dealt with frames, which fit this project perfectly. Even more importantly it was new and could give him some insight into the overall look of the project.

Web based research had turned up little of use. Tectonics was apparently quite the buzzword these days, not to mention a key element in geophysics and would turn up a flood of useless information no matter how he refined his search. He had finally broken down and ordered the book his friend suggested, a comprehensive study on the topic by Kenneth Frampton, an expert in architectural history. Harry was filled with an anticipation he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy waiting for Christmas.

Matt was right, Frampton’s book had been a huge help in finalizing his design. It was basically a history, analyzing many of architecture’s great works and attempting to find an absolute constant to tie them together. As far as Harry could tell this theory was divided into two basic parts.

The first facet of the theory dealt with the progression from the stereotomic to the tectonic. That is, as architecture matured building techniques moved away from the heavy, load bearing masonry wall to the lighter frame for the basic building material. This transition started in the Gothic period when stone soared to the tops of the gothic cathedrals, bearing on a comparatively lightweight stone frame instead of a heavy wall to open much of the building’s envelope for stained glass. The introduction of iron reinforcement gave architects a new level of freedom, as did each successive technological innovation.

This way of looking at architecture had a direct relation to the building type of a treehouse, as it was completely composed of light-weight frame elements. Just thinking of a stereotomic treehouse made Harry chuckle. He supposed it could be done, but it would lend more to a house-tree relationship than a tree-house one.

The second element in Frampton’s theory dealt with how the architects of these times of innovation dealt with the change in their profession. In each case, the new methods were met with varying levels of resistance, hidden in most cases so the building would appear to follow an existing architectural style.

This inability to embrace new materials and construction techniques led Frampton to focus on the varying levels of honesty in the implementation of these new techniques. One of the points that he drives home repeatedly in his text is that to be great, architecture must first come to terms with its own structure before it can embrace any sort of expression. In most cases, he illustrates how the expression comes inherently from the structure itself.

Harry set the text down and looked at the first round of sketches he had shown Seth. He realized now why they had looked so old to him. If modern architecture dictated the development of structure before stylistic goals, he had done the exact opposite. The very first drawings he had done showed nothing but a system of planes, with structure only being added later to rationalize the forms he had arbitrarily created. They showed nothing of the idea of building in a tree, which had rightly become the central idea in the design. With a sigh, he set the drawings on his trash pile and picked up his latest structural designs.

They really were beautiful. They were tectonic alright, nothing but framework and connections. At a glance, a trained eye could not only trace the loads through the structure, but could picture the construction of the frame as a concrete reality. All it needed was some railing and a little decoration applied to the structure and it was perfect.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Seth squatted next to Harry, looking curiously from him to where he was looking.

“Your dad asked me to fix your tree fort for you.”

“Is it broken?”

“Well, no, its not broken exactly.”

“If its not broken, then why are you fixing it?”

“I suppose I’m not fixing it, but changing it to work better.”

“But it works fine, watch!”

With that, Seth jumped on one of the swings and started kicking.

“Watch, look how high I can go!”

“That’s good, keep going!”

Harry took another long look at the swing-set. The problem was simple. The swing-set side of the monstrosity was of typical construction. An A-frame held a beam out from the body of the fort, giving the chains something to hang from. As Seth swung back and forth, he watched the feet of the A rock back and forth almost imperceptibly, causing the frame to move slowly down the slope of their backyard.

“Grandpa, watch!”

Harry looked up as his grandson took another swing, then launched himself into a graceful arc, landing a considerable distance from the swing-set.

“Wow!” Henry said, genuinely impressed with the way Seth stuck his landing.

“Watch, I’ll do it again!”

“Ok, but be careful.”

Harry looked back to the legs of the A-frame. Like the problem, the solution would be rather simple. One option would be to build a platform underneath the entire fort, leveling the bearing surface to keep it from sliding. After short consideration he decided that for the effort he might as well rebuild the whole thing, and he had a real treehouse to work on. No, the simplest thing would be to just sink a pole at each leg and bolt the whole structure to these fixed posts.

“Grandpa, you’re not watching!”

“Yes I am.” Harry lied as he broke his concentration to watch another display of acrobatic skill.

Seth landed with the same easy grace. “Did you see that? That was even higher than last time!”

“Wow, that was great! Could you go get your dad for me? I have something I need to talk to him about.”

“Ok, but then you gotta watch me swing some more.”

Seth returned with his dad, and Harry explained what he had decided.

“So when do you think you’ll be able to get around to it?”

“I’ll probably just pick up the extra materials when I’m buying for the treehouse.”

“Any idea when that will be?”

“I was going to see if you wanted to go to Lowe’s with me this weekend.”

“Really? That soon?”

“Why, are you busy?”

“No, this weekend’s great, how’s Saturday?”

“Saturday’s good, I’ll be here around nine?”

“Ok, so do we get to see the final design?”

“I don’t have all the kinks worked out, but I did bring some sketches. I’ll get them out after dinner.”

“Come on Seth, let’s go inside.”

“Ok dad, watch!”

They watched as Seth again launched himself from the swing, this time with a flat forward trajectory. He hit the ground and stumbled forward into a run, sprinting all the way to the back door.

“Let’s go eat.”

Harry sat once again at his son’s table with another pile of meticulously crafted drawings, the same nervous energy eating away at the edges of his concentration. He felt the same confidence he felt before, and the questions kept coming. What if Seth still didn’t like his design? He had taken so long, what if Seth had decided he no longer wanted a treehouse? What if he built it and Seth decided he liked the tree fort better? You’re doing it again, stop it. Stay focused. This time it’s perfect and you know it.

He took a deep breath and listened to his pulse slow. “What do you think of them?”

“I think they’re incredible. You’ve really outdone yourself. And this estimate is accurate?”

“Give or take fifty bucks.”

“Wow, the ‘tree fort’ was actually more expensive. Is labor included?”

“No, but that might just cost you a meal or two. This is a pretty atypical job, so I plan to do most of the work myself. If I need help, I’ll just get you to lend a hand on a weekend.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Grandpa, come watch this!” Seth called from the backdoor.

“Seth, your grandpa’s got something to show you first. Take your shoes off and come inside.”

“But I wanna…”

“Seth, don’t start that tonight. Besides, this is something you’ll like.”

“Ok.”

A moment later he came walking in and sat across from Harry, obviously unhappy at being called in while the sky was still light. He grudgingly picked up one of the sketches and with a sigh started looking at it, doing his best to look put out by the situation. As he realized what he was looking at though, his pout slowly fading to a look of genuine interest.

“Is this my treehouse?”

“It could be. Do you like it?”

“It’s awesome!” he said as he picked up another of the renderings, the corners of his mouth gradually turning upwards. “I can’t wait to show Danny!”

“That’s it then. We begin this weekend.”

“Hey mom, look what grandpa did!” Seth called, leaping barefooted out the back door.

“He really likes it.”

“Yes he does. You know this is something he’ll remember for the rest of his life.”

“Nah, he’ll grow up and his interests will change. In ten years he won’t even use it anymore.”

“Maybe, but he will remember it.”

The hum of the car died as it slowly settled to the ground. Seth frowned as he looked at the gauge. Hydrogen was getting to be so expensive these days.

“Mom, Byron won’t stay on his side of the seat!!!”

“You’re the one who’s touching me, stupid.”

“Dad, he called me stupid!!!”

“I heard, Kevin. Now you two better start behaving or you’re both staying in the car. Now apologize to each other.”

Apologies were mumbled as the two brothers sulked towards their respective doors, neither wanting to be the second out of the car.

“I still don’t see why we had to bring them, you know how they hate looking at houses.”

“Yes, I know, but this one’s important to me.”

“I know, it’s the house you grew up in. But you know they’re just going to be a handful.”

“Maybe not.”

“What do you mean maybe not? They always are.”

“Welcome, you must be the McGanns, I’m Suzan.”

“I’m Seth, this is Tiffany and these two rascals are Byron and Kevin.”

“Nice to meet you. Come on in, I’ve got quite a nice house to show you. It’s a little old, but it is a four bed three bath with a quite large game room/study loft.”

“Don’t forget the cellar access under the stairs.”

“Oh yes, and the cellar access… wait, how did you know about the cellar access?”

“Do you mind if we check out the back yard?”

“Sure, go ahead”, Suzan responded, a confused look on her face.

As Seth walked towards the gate to the back, he realized his pulse was racing. Was it still there? That treehouse was in all of his fondest childhood memories. All his camping sleepovers with his best friend Danny. His first kiss with the girl from his class that had lived just down the street.

As he pushed the lever to open the gate, he felt that familiar click he had felt everyday when he ran from the school bus to the backyard. The gate didn’t squeak as it opened – the last owner must have oiled it.

There it was. Just as he remembered it, only older, and somehow smaller. He barely heard his kids’ cries of joy as they sprinted to the rope ladder that hung at the bottom of the tree. It was still there, and it had been taken care of. The shingle roof he had originally put on it had been replaced by metal, and wrought iron stood where his wooden rail had. The rope ladder looked new, and was longer than his had been. Then he realized why. His had been just long enough to reach from the treehouse to the tree fort. The tree fort was gone.

Seth walked over and kicked one of the stumps of concrete that was all that was left of his old swing set.

“Look out guys, I’m coming up!”

He crawled up the rope ladder to the platform of the treehouse.

“Dad, this is the coolest!”

“Are we going to live here?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to talk to your mother.”

“Well I want to live here.”

“Me to!!”

“Me to, me to. You boys want to carve your names in the tree?”

Eventually they found space and put their names with all the others. Whoever had lived here had finished what Seth had started, covering most of the tree inside the fort with carved graffiti. It was amazing the tree was still alive.

Seth saw the realtor lead his wife inside and climbed down to follow.

“…with a new stainless steel fridge and nice hardwood cabinets. Hello, Mr. McGann, I was just telling your wife about the kitchen.”

“Don’t forget to tell her about the view the window above the sink has when the sun sets.”

“Wow, I didn’t even know… how exactly is it that you know so much about this house?”

“This is where I spent my childhood. This is where I lived. It’s changed a little, but it’s still the house I remember.”

“Well I see my job here is rather, um, unnecessary. I’ll leave you two to talk it over.”

“Thanks, you mind keeping an eye on our children?”

“As a mother of three myself, I’d be happy to. Let me know what you decide.”

“Thanks. Well Tif, what do you think?”

“I think you’ve already made up your mind.”

“Yes, but I want us all to be happy here.”

“Well the house has everything I’ve been looking for, you know that. The neighborhood’s good and the kids seem to absolutely love it. Where did that treehouse come from?”

“My grandpa built it for me.”

“The architect?”

“Yeah. You know, he’s the real reason I decided to go into architecture in the first place. This treehouse was his last project. And as far as this architect is concerned, it was his best.”

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