A note about transformation

The Bees are out...and it's March

Photo credit: AskNature.org

As I sit here in my backyard on this record breaking warm day in March, I am buzzed by bees and wasps flying near my head.  While this is a startling occasion at any time, I wondered how the bees will fare when this unseasonably warm weather cools to the normally chilly spring that we normally have.  We will still have a frost, right?  And thinking about it, how do bees survive Chicago winters at all?  And is there anything we can learn from them?

Thinking about Niches - a Spanish Biomimicry iSite

In Spain for our latest BProfessional intensive, we had an iSite where we picked an organism and looked to find it's niche - how it fits in with its environment. The location of our retreat was a hilly area with lots of clay, falling rocks, and erosion.  And even without a lot of water - the area was almost considered a desert - plants were there to stabilize some of the soil.  There were quite a few plants with really gnarly roots that seemed to zigzag down the slope in such a way that I thought it could be a stabilization mechanism, much like how we spread our feet and place them parallel to the slope to stabilize ourselves on a steep slope.  I can't find any mention of this form in the literature I've referenced, but I'm sticking with my observation until proven wrong.  So when looking at the contextual limiting factors for this Rosemary bush, it would seem that its ability to thrive in unstable soil with poor nutrients and not a lot of water allowed it to carve out a niche where other organisms aren't able to survive.  And the zigzag form is one that I find interesting. This tool for natural observation is one that I find useful when trying to understand the contextual factors that influence an organism's ability to survive and be resilient against adverse conditions.

Drawing of a Nautilus Shell

Abstracting a natural object and graphically depicting it as an architectural object.  

On Biomimicry in Buildings: A Work in Progress

Missing photo credit.  File no longer found.

The integration of biomimicry into the built environment is a work in progress and I am continually looking for models that explore its potential.  Below are my thoughts as of now and I am hoping to continue this discussion for years to come.

• Biomimicry and Living Buildings.  I have heard that the Living Building Challenge was inspired by biomimicry, but I don't know this for a fact.  Even if it weren't, many of its principles are the same: building performance tied to regional characteristics (life's principle to be locally attuned & responsive), limits to growth (integrate growth with development), zero impact (material/energy efficiency), and integrating beauty.  I can think of many building products and a few examples of partial systems integration (the living waste water treatment eco-machine at the Omega Center or various products, as quick examples), but I can think of only one building (Eastgate Center in Zimbabwe) where it has been integrated on both a metophorical as well as performance basis.  I am constantly searching for more examples of building integrated biomimicry and would welcome any suggestions that come my way.
• Nature as Measure.  Similar to the zero impact prerequisite set by the Living Buildings Challenge, using the inherent ecosystem services of a site as a measure to benchmark the ecological performance of a particular building is very powerful.  If a site was formally prairie that absorbed and held x gallons of water, y number of species, and z tons of biomass, designers can strive to create buildings that strive to meet or exceed this threshold.  I especially like the Mannahatta Project as an example because as a virtual ecological restoration of the island of Manhattan, it holds the genius of the original place as a benchmark by which the ecological performance of a site.  Are there similar efforts in other regions of the world?
• Biomimicry in Existing Buildings.  I've started having conversations about biomimicry in existing buildings with architects all across the country.  This is a potentially amazing solution space that is relevant to all major developed cities across the globe.  Beyond integrating biomimicry inspired products into interior fit-outs, how can we begin to emulate life in existing structures?  How does nature reuse materials?  How does nature adapt to changing conditions?  How can our buildings evolve to survive?  And what are natural models that can help guide our search?  This is usually discussed in a metaphorical sense, but I am continually looking for tangible manefestations of this on individual existing buildings. 
• Systems Interaction.  Finally (for now), there are many parallels to how the components of an ecosystem interact and how the components of a building interact.  Systems are systems and I know there are exciting lessons to be learned in this space.  

This is just the beginning and I welcome any and all thoughts from interested parties.


Interesting References (courtesy of Dayna Baumeister)
http://www.d3space.org/competitions/ (previous competitions, natural systems)
http://biomimetic-architecture.com

Upcoming Events!

Come hear about Biomimicry at the next Foresight Green Drinks in Chicago!  
November 16th at 5:30pm (panel starts around 6:30)!  I'll be on a panel with Lindsay James of InterfaceFLOR and Colin Rohlfing of HOK, facilitated by Peter Nicholson - all Biomimicry Chicago core group members!

Biomimicry, the practice of learning from nature to solve human design problems, is emerging as a powerful tool for creating more sustainable solutions. Applied at a variety of scales, from individual products to buildings to organizations, biomimcry brings nature's 3.8 billion years of innovation experience to the design table.  This month's panel examines this quickly evolving practice, reviewing what it is, how it is being applied, the tangible advancements it has already produced, and the powerful potential for the future. Of specific interest to designers, architects, entrepreneurs, biologists, and related others, the conversation will be wide ranging and inspiring to anyone with a concern for a more vibrant and resilient future. Come learn more about this exciting field, and the new emerging network, Biomimicry Chicago.

And if you are out in the Northeast Illinois region, check out a CEU level presentation I'll be giving on Biomimicry for the AIA NEI Committee on the Environment.  November 10th at Wight & Co in Darien, IL.  

Nature is inherently sustainable and has been for over 3.8 billion years.  While we have been designing our world on a mass scale for approximately 200 years, our evolutionary elders have found a way to fit in on this planet for millennia.  Perhaps they have something to teach us? The emerging practice of biomimicry brings nature’s problem solving solutions to the design table by studying the processes, products, and performance of life on earth and translating their lessons into the language of design. 

Pecha Kucha this Thursday!

Ryerson Woods Pecha Kucha this Thursday!  Lindsay James and I are talking biomimicry.  Check out this invite for more information.

PechaKucha on Green Design!

I will be speaking at a Pecha Kucha with Lindsay James, BPCP Candidate and Director of Sustainability at InterfaceFLOR in Chicago next Thursday, October 13th at 7:30pm.  Come learn about biomimicry in this fast-paced forum - 20 slides x 20 seconds each!  Press release after the cut:

Biomimicry as a Wordle

biomimicry wordle created by wordle.net with modified text from wikipedia

Structure of a Spider Web

It is a well known biomimicry meme that ounce for ounce, spider silk is stronger than steel or Kevlar.  But what is it about the structure of a spider silk that makes it so strong?   Is it the nano scale makeup of the silk?  Is it the pattern?  Do the patterns indicate function?  Over the summer, I've collected a couple images of spider webs as I've seen them and tried to learn a little more about what makes them so special and how we can learn from them.

Spiral orb web in the forest

I started by taking a walk in the forest preserve near my house. Quite quickly I came upon the most ratty looking, massive spider web I'd ever seen.  It looked like something out of a haunted house movie - spiral, torn, and at the center was a huge spider.  As soon as I walked through the brush to get a closer look, the spider took off thinking it should be afraid of me (the feeling was mutual).


It's about Scale

The first thing I learned about spider web construction is that it is modular based on the size of the spider - the larger the spider, the larger the gaps between the threads for the simple fact that the spider must walk on it without getting stuck in its own web.  In fact, the scale of the space between the sticky threads that catch prey is directly proportional to the space from the tip of its back leg to its spinner.

This makes me think of the whole idea of "human scale" in architecture, which of course varies.  Frank Lloyd Wright designed homes for men of smaller stature, such as himself, so that when a taller person such as me walks through a home he designed, I feel like a giant.  The difference is mere inches, but it is noticeable.  Cathedrals were designed in direction opposition to the idea of human scale - they were designed to overwhelm the humans that entered them in order to convey the greatness of their god.  But the spaces where we feel most comfortable are the ones that have been designed down to the detail with our proportions in mind.

Life in and Around a Tree

We sometimes think of trees as solitary objects - lone specimens standing in a field of green.  Or we think of them in clusters of a forest, one indistinguishable from another.  But trees, like everything else, are interconnected and linked with all life around them.  I thought about this when looking at the tree in my backyard yesterday.  What life does this tree support along its vertical axis?  And what relationships do these life forms have with each other?  What can we learn from these connections?

The pride of my backyard - our Norway Maple

Our Norway Maple was planted well over 50 years ago, and is large and established, much like most of the trees in my downtown neighborhood.  This type of tree, however, is considered to be an invasive species because it sends off thousands of little "helicopter" seeds, sometimes a couple times in a season, that create tiny little trees everywhere you look.  Its leaves are also so complete as to shade everything below it and its roots are so dense and shallow such that very little else can grow among them. For these reasons, and the fact that it was planted underneath an elevated power line, I'm not sure it was the best selection that the former land owners could have made, but I love it just the same.  

I love that my house was designed on axis with the tree so that as soon as you walk in my front door, you see the tree centered in the back.  I love that it shades the back part of my yard so completely that you can lie in the grass in 90 degree weather and feel cool.  I love that my daughter's playhouse never sees the sun and is always cool for her to play in.  And I love all the critters it attracts to my garden - even the chipmunks which eat every last strawberry I plant.  Well, maybe not the chipmunks.  What other life does my maple support? 

Let's look a little closer.

Studying a Flower - the Plumeless Thistle

Here is the problem with a novice naturalist walking through a restored prairie and seeing pretty flowers - I assume they all should be there!  It turns out that the pretty pinkish purple flowers I saw on a walk I did way back in July (how summer flew by!) were actually Plumeless Thistle, an invasive weed, and it was everywhere, at least near the walking path I was on.

One invasive species on another - a Japanese beetle on a Plumeless Thistle bud.  From Prairie Flowers in July.

While walking through the prairie on bright July day, I wanted to observe the prairie species mix to see if I would find any patterns.  The main pattern I found was centered around water availability.  The highlands where there was no standing water found home for yellow coneflower, wild carrot, thistle, some milkweed, and turf grass gone to seed.  The lower areas where the creek ran through hosted cattails, grass, a spiky purple plant that looks like salvia, and some strange broadleaf species that seemed like it would be more at home on the forest floor.  Near the paths in higher elevations, I was taken by a pretty purple flower that I found and thought I could learn a little more about it.

Studying the thistle, by Amy.

Local Biomimicry

As a part of my coursework on Biomimicry's Life's Principle to "Be Locally Attuned and Responsive," I wrote an informal white paper on the intersection of Biomimicry and the Transition Town network using my town of Naperville, Illinois, as a case study.  I posed the question,

"What would Naperville look like if it followed the biomimicry principle to be ‘locally attuned and responsive’ in all of its (re)designs?"  

This fits in with our theme for the year at Greendrinks Naperville of local resilience in the face of peak oil and was written to further this discussion.  If you have time to spare and care to read and comment, I would love to hear your thoughts.  Read my paper "Local Biomimicry" here.  

Biomimicry at Greendrinks Naperville!

Amy is bringing biomimicry to the western suburbs of Chicago at the next Greendrinks Naperville.  Come here what biomimicry is all about and how you can use it to inspire sustainable design!

Wednesday, August 31st, 7pm at Sugar Toad in the Hotel Arista.

Learning from Carpenter Ants

Carpenter Ant Colony in a Bounce House

In honor of my biology professor, Adrian Smith, who has devoted his career to studying ants, I chose to learn a little bit about the carpenter ants which until this morning and without my knowledge had built a small colony in my kid's rolled up bounce house.

I have no idea why a colony of carpenter ants would chose to build a satellite community in a rolled up bit of plastic fabric.  It must have been dark and slightly damp and that must have been enough.  It was a poor choice on her behalf.  After the destruction of their nest, the ants were obviously very erratic and grabbed their rice shaped pupae, or egg sacks, and scattered in the grass.  I watched them for a while, trying to determine if they had any idea where they were going, but they just seemed to be running for cover.  Within minutes, each and every egg sack had been picked up and was being carried by an ant in its pincers and within a few minutes, very few pupae were visible.  Ants in general are very good at concealing themselves to avoid predation, so it is difficult to follow ants in grass and see where they go.

Being Present

Photo by Amy Coffman Phillips.  

Have you ever tried to just sit and be still for 25 minutes?  Without thinking about anything in particular?  Or without really moving?  Well, I tried.  And it's hard.  On a recent trip to the Springbrook Prairie Preserve I completed a BPCP iSite where I was to "Sit and Be Here."  Being present is so hard to do, especially for someone so used to multi-tasking.  Sitting still and observing is a form of meditation, and I found it extremely relaxing but also irritating.

It felt relaxing because I was alone, my children were being cared for by our babysitter, and I had the luxury to just sit down and look at a field of green and yellow prairie flowers.  That experience alone made the time worthwhile.  But the multi-tasker in me wanted to be doing something else at the same time - walking or running so that it would count as my exercise for the day; naming the grasses, birds, and bugs I see and remembering the ones I couldn't name; thinking about what I see and practicing my biomimicry translation skills...  I find it almost impossible to turn off the part of my brain that tells me what I am doing now is not as important as what I should or could be doing.

Reading the Sky

Photo by Amy Coffman Phillips

How much of fifth grade science can you remember?  What are the different cloud types called?  My knowledge was tested today on the most gorgeous day we've had in months when I was lucky enough to be at the Morton Arboretum with my friend and our kids.  The children's garden was complete chaos with every child in the five surrounding communities all congregating there for the day, so we decided to climb a little hill and sit and watch the clouds.  I have fond memories of staring at the clouds on a pretty day and trying to guess what shape they were making.  My daughter humored me a bit in between trips running up and down the hill and found a snake that the cirrus clouds created (I thought it looked like a spine).  My friend found a stingray made of puffy cumulus clouds.  And I seemed to find mostly fish of different sizes and shapes, a group of cumulus clouds that looked like airplanes flying low, and one space ship.  A psychologist has probably developed a way to analyze what we see in clouds as some type of Warshak test, but I prefer to leave that at the surface.  

July's Prairie Flowers as Design Inspiration

Today was a beautiful sunny day for a bike ride through the Springbrook Prairie Forest Preserve.  It was hot today.  Very hot.  But the flowers in the prairie were in full bloom, and I was curious about the plants I found there.  What are their names?  Where do they grow and why?  Is there anything we can we learn from them that could influence design?  To try and answer these questions, I took a collection (which doubles as an interesting wildflower arrangement) and have attempted to classify a few of the flowers I picked.  I did a little research on the natural history of each and then have extrapolated a few questions as to how each plant may inspire design.  What questions do you think the plant could help us answer?  

Purple Coneflowers (Echinacea)

Aster (Daisy) family (Asteraceae)

Natural History:  This plant, while native to Illinois, is not that common in native habitats.  In fact, most of the plants that grow in the wild are escaped cultivars or as a result of prairie restoration efforts.  On my ride, there were only small clusters or small groups of individuals but I was determined to collect a few for my daughter, who loves pink flowers.  It has only a faint smell.  The stem is strong and rigid and the seed head is heavy.  The petals are smooth on top, rough on bottom, and damaged with black spots from insect or impact damage.  The top of the flower head is a collection of small spines, which is why it was named after the latin name for "hedgehog."  The spines are packed closely in the Fibonacci spiral formation, which allows for radiating growth.  

Biomimicry Inspiration:  I wonder what a seating arrangement in a restaurant, theater in the round, or other establishment where many people must be placed would look like if we tried to emulate this radiating pattern?  Would its allowance for growth allow the seating arrangement to grow and contract as needed depending on how many people need to be seated?  Would this pattern be relevant to temporary disaster shelter camps as well?  

I fell for this tree

I went for a walk in the Morton Arboretum today, looking at tree bark. Yes, tree bark. For my biomimicry coursework, I have certain prescribed iSite assignments where I go out and observe nature. One of them included looking at tree bark and the differences between different species. This was on my mind after a conversation I had with Dr. Robert Fahey, a forest ecologist on staff at the Arboretum, about tree bark and its (marginal) insulative values. He spoke about Oak forests and how the rough bark fissures that Oak trees present actually create air pockets that help insulate the tree from fire and extreme cold.  It's cork-like texture also traps air pockets, adding insulation.  He was quick to mention that the cell structure of the live phloem has more to do with a tree surviving cold than the dead bark, but it was an intriguing idea for me and I resolved to contact a plant physiologist soon.  Dr. Fahey spoke about the the chemistry of bark and how some species create chemicals in their bark that protect the tree from predators.

Walking the Woods with Kids

2011-06-26 17.06.36, originally uploaded by dgphilli.

I went on a hike with my husband and two young kids through Starved Rock State Park in Northern Illinois this weekend. The park is a series of canyons that were formed when the glaciers melted, forming a series of rock walls, 50' + waterfalls and sand basins from disintegrating sandstone. When I told my 4 year old daughter that we would be going on a hike to a sand mountain that they could climb, she was beyond excited. So excited, in fact, that she was so focused on getting there that she wasn't really able to enjoy the journey to our destination. Not surprising for a little kid.

In between questions of "are we there yet?", I pointed out tangled tree roots that could have been steps up the cliff, tiny shade flowers, butterflies that crossed our path, interesting moss and lichen, and anything else that I thought may interest her. Not so much. Sand mountain, please!