• Aga Khan Award for Architecture 2025 announces 19 shortlisted projects from 15 countries

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    19 shortlisted projects for the 2025 Award cycle were revealed by the Aga Khan Award for Architecture. A portion of the million prize, one of the biggest in architecture, will be awarded to the winning proposals. Out of the 369 projects nominated for the 16th Award Cycle, an independent Master Jury chose the 19 shortlisted projects from 15 countries.The nine members of the Master Jury for the 16th Award cycle include Azra Akšamija, Noura Al-Sayeh Holtrop, Lucia Allais, David Basulto, Yvonne Farrell, Kabage Karanja, Yacouba Konaté, Hassan Radoine, and Mun Summ Wong.His Late Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan IV created the Aga Khan Award for Architecture in 1977 to recognize and promote architectural ideas that effectively meet the needs and goals of communities where Muslims are a major population. Nearly 10,000 construction projects have been documented since the award's inception 48 years ago, and 128 projects have been granted it. The AKAA's selection method places a strong emphasis on architecture that stimulates and responds to people's cultural ambitions in addition to meeting their physical, social, and economic demands.The Aga Khan Award for Architecture is governed by a Steering Committee chaired by His Highness the Aga Khan. The other members of the Steering Committee are Meisa Batayneh, Principal Architect, Founder, maisam architects and engineers, Amman, Jordan; Souleymane Bachir Diagne, Professor of Philosophy and Francophone Studies, Columbia University, New York, United States of America; Lesley Lokko, Founder & Director, African Futures Institute, Accra, Ghana; Gülru Necipoğlu, Director and Professor, Aga Khan Program for Islamic Architecture, Harvard University, Cambridge, United States of America; Hashim Sarkis, Founder & Principal, Hashim Sarkis Studios; Dean, School of Architecture and Planning, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, United States of America; and Sarah M. Whiting, Partner, WW Architecture; Dean and Josep Lluís Sert Professor of Architecture, Graduate School of Design, Harvard University, Cambridge, United States of America. Farrokh Derakhshani is the Director of the Award.Examples of outstanding architecture in the areas of modern design, social housing, community development and enhancement, historic preservation, reuse and area conservation, landscape design, and environmental enhancement are recognized by the Aga Khan Award for Architecture.Building plans that creatively utilize local resources and relevant technologies, as well as initiatives that could spur such initiatives abroad, are given special consideration. It should be mentioned that in addition to honoring architects, the Award also recognizes towns, builders, clients, master craftspeople, and engineers who have contributed significantly to the project.Projects had to be completed between January 1, 2018, and December 31, 2023, and they had to have been operational for a minimum of one year in order to be eligible for consideration in the 2025 Award cycle. The Award is not available for projects that His Highness the Aga Khan or any of the Aga Khan Development Networkinstitutions have commissioned.See the 19 shortlisted projects with their short project descriptions competing for the 2025 Award Cycle:Khudi Bari. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / City SyntaxBangladeshKhudi Bari, in various locations, by Marina Tabassum ArchitectsMarina Tabassum Architects' Khudi Bari, which can be readily disassembled and reassembled to suit the needs of the users, is a replicable solution for displaced communities impacted by geographic and climatic changes.West Wusutu Village Community Centre. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Dou YujunChinaWest Wusutu Village Community Centre, Hohhot, Inner Mongolia, by Zhang PengjuIn addition to meeting the religious demands of the local Hui Muslims, Zhang Pengju's West Wusutu Village Community Centre in Hohhot, Inner Mongolia, offers social and cultural spaces for locals and artists. Constructed from recycled bricks, it features multipurpose indoor and outdoor areas that promote communal harmony.Revitalisation of Historic Esna. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Ahmed SalemEgyptRevitalisation of Historic Esna, by Takween Integrated Community DevelopmentBy using physical interventions, socioeconomic projects, and creative urban planning techniques, Takween Integrated Community Development's Revitalization of Historic Esna tackles the issues of cultural tourism in Upper Egypt and turns the once-forgotten area around the Temple of Khnum into a thriving historic city.The Arc at Green School. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo WidityawanIndonesiaThe Arc at Green School, in Bali, by IBUKU / Elora HardyAfter 15 years of bamboo experimenting at the Green School Bali, IBUKU/Elora Hardy created The Arc at Green School. The Arc is a brand-new community wellness facility built on the foundations of a temporary gym. High-precision engineering and regional handicraft are combined in this construction.Islamic Centre Nurul Yaqin Mosque. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo WidityawanIndonesiaIslamic Centre Nurul Yaqin Mosque, in Palu, Central Sulawesi, by Dave Orlando and Fandy GunawanDave Orlando and Fandy Gunawan built the Islamic Center Nurul Yaqin Mosque in Palu, Central Sulawesi, on the location of a previous mosque that was damaged by a 2018 tsunami. There is a place for worship and assembly at the new Islamic Center. Surrounded by a shallow reflecting pool that may be drained to make room for more guests, it is open to the countryside.Microlibrary Warak Kayu. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo WidityawanIndonesiaMicrolibraries in various cities, by SHAU / Daliana Suryawinata, Florian HeinzelmannFlorian Heinzelmann, the project's initiator, works with stakeholders at all levels to provide high-quality public spaces in a number of Indonesian parks and kampungs through microlibraries in different towns run by SHAU/Daliana Suryawinata. So far, six have been constructed, and by 2045, 100 are planned.Majara Residence. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Deed StudioIranMajara Complex and Community Redevelopment, in Hormuz Island by ZAV Architects / Mohamadreza GhodousiThe Majara Complex and Community Redevelopment on Hormuz Island, designed by ZAV Architects and Mohamadreza Ghodousi, is well-known for its vibrant domes that offer eco-friendly lodging for visitors visiting Hormuz's distinctive scenery. In addition to providing new amenities for the islanders who visit to socialize, pray, or utilize the library, it was constructed by highly trained local laborers.Jahad Metro Plaza. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Deed StudioIranJahad Metro Plaza in Tehran, by KA Architecture StudioKA Architecture Studio's Jahad Metro Plaza in Tehran was constructed to replace the dilapidated old buildings. It turned the location into a beloved pedestrian-friendly landmark. The arched vaults, which are covered in locally manufactured brick, vary in height to let air and light into the area they are protecting.Khan Jaljulia Restoration. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Mikaela BurstowIsraelKhan Jaljulia Restoration in Jaljulia by Elias KhuriElias Khuri's Khan Jaljulia Restoration is a cost-effective intervention set amidst the remnants of a 14th-century Khan in Jaljulia. By converting the abandoned historical location into a bustling public area for social gatherings, it helps the locals rediscover their cultural history.Campus Startup Lions. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Christopher Wilton-SteerKenyaCampus Startup Lions, in Turkana by Kéré ArchitectsKéré Architecture's Campus Startup Lions in Turkana is an educational and entrepreneurial center that offers a venue for community involvement, business incubation, and technology-driven education. The design incorporates solar energy, rainwater harvesting, and tall ventilation towers that resemble the nearby termite mounds, and it was constructed using local volcanic stone.Lalla Yeddouna Square. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Amine HouariMoroccoRevitalisation of Lalla Yeddouna Square in the medina of Fez, by Mossessian Architecture and Yassir Khalil StudioMossessian Architecture and Yassir Khalil Studio's revitalization of Lalla Yeddouna Square in the Fez medina aims to improve pedestrian circulation and reestablish a connection to the waterfront. For the benefit of locals, craftspeople, and tourists from around the globe, existing buildings were maintained and new areas created.Vision Pakistan. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Usman Saqib ZuberiPakistanVision Pakistan, in Islamabad by DB Studios / Mohammad Saifullah SiddiquiA tailoring training center run by Vision Pakistan, a nonprofit organization dedicated to empowering underprivileged adolescents, is located in Islamabad by DB Studios/Mohammad Saifullah Siddiqui. Situated in a crowded neighborhood, this multi-story building features flashy jaalis influenced by Arab and Pakistani crafts, echoing the city's 1960s design.Denso Hall Rahguzar Project. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Usman Saqib ZuberiPakistanDenso Hall Rahguzar Project, in Karachi by Heritage Foundation Pakistan / Yasmeen LariThe Heritage Foundation of Pakistan/Yasmeen Lari's Denso Hall Rahguzar Project in Karachi is a heritage-led eco-urban enclave that was built with low-carbon materials in response to the city's severe climate, which is prone to heat waves and floods. The freshly planted "forests" are irrigated by the handcrafted terracotta cobbles, which absorb rainfall and cool and purify the air.Wonder Cabinet. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Mikaela BurstowPalestineWonder Cabinet, in Bethlehem by AAU AnastasThe architects at AAU Anastas established Wonder Cabinet, a multifunctional, nonprofit exhibition and production venue in Bethlehem. The three-story concrete building was constructed with the help of regional contractors and artisans, and it is quickly emerging as a major center for learning, design, craft, and innovation.The Ned. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Cemal EmdenQatarThe Ned Hotel, in Doha by David Chipperfield ArchitectsThe Ministry of Interior was housed in the Ned Hotel in Doha, which was designed by David Chipperfield Architects. Its Middle Eastern brutalist building was meticulously transformed into a 90-room boutique hotel, thereby promoting architectural revitalization in the region.Shamalat Cultural Centre. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Hassan Al ShattiSaudi ArabiaShamalat Cultural Centre, in Riyadh, by Syn Architects / Sara Alissa, Nojoud AlsudairiOn the outskirts of Diriyah, the Shamalat Cultural Centre in Riyadh was created by Syn Architects/Sara Alissa, Nojoud Alsudairi. It was created from an old mud home that artist Maha Malluh had renovated. The center, which aims to incorporate historic places into daily life, provides a sensitive viewpoint on heritage conservation in the area by contrasting the old and the contemporary.Rehabilitation and Extension of Dakar Railway Station. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Sylvain CherkaouiSenegalRehabilitation and Extension of Dakar Railway Station, in Dakar by Ga2DIn order to accommodate the passengers of a new express train line, Ga2D extended and renovated Dakar train Station, which purposefully contrasts the old and modern buildings. The forecourt was once again open to pedestrian traffic after vehicular traffic was limited to the rear of the property.Rami Library. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Cemal EmdenTürkiyeRami Library, by Han Tümertekin Design & ConsultancyThe largest library in Istanbul is the Rami Library, designed by Han Tümertekin Design & Consultancy. It occupied the former Rami Barracks, a sizable, single-story building with enormous volumes that was constructed in the eighteenth century. In order to accommodate new library operations while maintaining the structure's original spatial features, a minimal intervention method was used.Morocco Pavilion Expo Dubai 2020. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Deed StudioUnited Arab EmiratesMorocco Pavilion Expo Dubai 2020, by Oualalou + ChoiOualalou + Choi's Morocco Pavilion Expo Dubai 2020 is intended to last beyond Expo 2020 and be transformed into a cultural center. The pavilion is a trailblazer in the development of large-scale rammed earth building techniques. Its use of passive cooling techniques, which minimize the need for mechanical air conditioning, earned it the gold LEED accreditation.At each project location, independent professionals such as architects, conservation specialists, planners, and structural engineers have conducted thorough evaluations of the nominated projects. This summer, the Master Jury convenes once more to analyze the on-site evaluations and choose the ultimate Award winners.The top image in the article: The Arc at Green School. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo Widityawan.> via Aga Khan Award for Architecture
    #aga #khan #award #architecture #announces
    Aga Khan Award for Architecture 2025 announces 19 shortlisted projects from 15 countries
    html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN" "; 19 shortlisted projects for the 2025 Award cycle were revealed by the Aga Khan Award for Architecture. A portion of the million prize, one of the biggest in architecture, will be awarded to the winning proposals. Out of the 369 projects nominated for the 16th Award Cycle, an independent Master Jury chose the 19 shortlisted projects from 15 countries.The nine members of the Master Jury for the 16th Award cycle include Azra Akšamija, Noura Al-Sayeh Holtrop, Lucia Allais, David Basulto, Yvonne Farrell, Kabage Karanja, Yacouba Konaté, Hassan Radoine, and Mun Summ Wong.His Late Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan IV created the Aga Khan Award for Architecture in 1977 to recognize and promote architectural ideas that effectively meet the needs and goals of communities where Muslims are a major population. Nearly 10,000 construction projects have been documented since the award's inception 48 years ago, and 128 projects have been granted it. The AKAA's selection method places a strong emphasis on architecture that stimulates and responds to people's cultural ambitions in addition to meeting their physical, social, and economic demands.The Aga Khan Award for Architecture is governed by a Steering Committee chaired by His Highness the Aga Khan. The other members of the Steering Committee are Meisa Batayneh, Principal Architect, Founder, maisam architects and engineers, Amman, Jordan; Souleymane Bachir Diagne, Professor of Philosophy and Francophone Studies, Columbia University, New York, United States of America; Lesley Lokko, Founder & Director, African Futures Institute, Accra, Ghana; Gülru Necipoğlu, Director and Professor, Aga Khan Program for Islamic Architecture, Harvard University, Cambridge, United States of America; Hashim Sarkis, Founder & Principal, Hashim Sarkis Studios; Dean, School of Architecture and Planning, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, United States of America; and Sarah M. Whiting, Partner, WW Architecture; Dean and Josep Lluís Sert Professor of Architecture, Graduate School of Design, Harvard University, Cambridge, United States of America. Farrokh Derakhshani is the Director of the Award.Examples of outstanding architecture in the areas of modern design, social housing, community development and enhancement, historic preservation, reuse and area conservation, landscape design, and environmental enhancement are recognized by the Aga Khan Award for Architecture.Building plans that creatively utilize local resources and relevant technologies, as well as initiatives that could spur such initiatives abroad, are given special consideration. It should be mentioned that in addition to honoring architects, the Award also recognizes towns, builders, clients, master craftspeople, and engineers who have contributed significantly to the project.Projects had to be completed between January 1, 2018, and December 31, 2023, and they had to have been operational for a minimum of one year in order to be eligible for consideration in the 2025 Award cycle. The Award is not available for projects that His Highness the Aga Khan or any of the Aga Khan Development Networkinstitutions have commissioned.See the 19 shortlisted projects with their short project descriptions competing for the 2025 Award Cycle:Khudi Bari. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / City SyntaxBangladeshKhudi Bari, in various locations, by Marina Tabassum ArchitectsMarina Tabassum Architects' Khudi Bari, which can be readily disassembled and reassembled to suit the needs of the users, is a replicable solution for displaced communities impacted by geographic and climatic changes.West Wusutu Village Community Centre. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Dou YujunChinaWest Wusutu Village Community Centre, Hohhot, Inner Mongolia, by Zhang PengjuIn addition to meeting the religious demands of the local Hui Muslims, Zhang Pengju's West Wusutu Village Community Centre in Hohhot, Inner Mongolia, offers social and cultural spaces for locals and artists. Constructed from recycled bricks, it features multipurpose indoor and outdoor areas that promote communal harmony.Revitalisation of Historic Esna. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Ahmed SalemEgyptRevitalisation of Historic Esna, by Takween Integrated Community DevelopmentBy using physical interventions, socioeconomic projects, and creative urban planning techniques, Takween Integrated Community Development's Revitalization of Historic Esna tackles the issues of cultural tourism in Upper Egypt and turns the once-forgotten area around the Temple of Khnum into a thriving historic city.The Arc at Green School. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo WidityawanIndonesiaThe Arc at Green School, in Bali, by IBUKU / Elora HardyAfter 15 years of bamboo experimenting at the Green School Bali, IBUKU/Elora Hardy created The Arc at Green School. The Arc is a brand-new community wellness facility built on the foundations of a temporary gym. High-precision engineering and regional handicraft are combined in this construction.Islamic Centre Nurul Yaqin Mosque. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo WidityawanIndonesiaIslamic Centre Nurul Yaqin Mosque, in Palu, Central Sulawesi, by Dave Orlando and Fandy GunawanDave Orlando and Fandy Gunawan built the Islamic Center Nurul Yaqin Mosque in Palu, Central Sulawesi, on the location of a previous mosque that was damaged by a 2018 tsunami. There is a place for worship and assembly at the new Islamic Center. Surrounded by a shallow reflecting pool that may be drained to make room for more guests, it is open to the countryside.Microlibrary Warak Kayu. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo WidityawanIndonesiaMicrolibraries in various cities, by SHAU / Daliana Suryawinata, Florian HeinzelmannFlorian Heinzelmann, the project's initiator, works with stakeholders at all levels to provide high-quality public spaces in a number of Indonesian parks and kampungs through microlibraries in different towns run by SHAU/Daliana Suryawinata. So far, six have been constructed, and by 2045, 100 are planned.Majara Residence. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Deed StudioIranMajara Complex and Community Redevelopment, in Hormuz Island by ZAV Architects / Mohamadreza GhodousiThe Majara Complex and Community Redevelopment on Hormuz Island, designed by ZAV Architects and Mohamadreza Ghodousi, is well-known for its vibrant domes that offer eco-friendly lodging for visitors visiting Hormuz's distinctive scenery. In addition to providing new amenities for the islanders who visit to socialize, pray, or utilize the library, it was constructed by highly trained local laborers.Jahad Metro Plaza. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Deed StudioIranJahad Metro Plaza in Tehran, by KA Architecture StudioKA Architecture Studio's Jahad Metro Plaza in Tehran was constructed to replace the dilapidated old buildings. It turned the location into a beloved pedestrian-friendly landmark. The arched vaults, which are covered in locally manufactured brick, vary in height to let air and light into the area they are protecting.Khan Jaljulia Restoration. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Mikaela BurstowIsraelKhan Jaljulia Restoration in Jaljulia by Elias KhuriElias Khuri's Khan Jaljulia Restoration is a cost-effective intervention set amidst the remnants of a 14th-century Khan in Jaljulia. By converting the abandoned historical location into a bustling public area for social gatherings, it helps the locals rediscover their cultural history.Campus Startup Lions. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Christopher Wilton-SteerKenyaCampus Startup Lions, in Turkana by Kéré ArchitectsKéré Architecture's Campus Startup Lions in Turkana is an educational and entrepreneurial center that offers a venue for community involvement, business incubation, and technology-driven education. The design incorporates solar energy, rainwater harvesting, and tall ventilation towers that resemble the nearby termite mounds, and it was constructed using local volcanic stone.Lalla Yeddouna Square. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Amine HouariMoroccoRevitalisation of Lalla Yeddouna Square in the medina of Fez, by Mossessian Architecture and Yassir Khalil StudioMossessian Architecture and Yassir Khalil Studio's revitalization of Lalla Yeddouna Square in the Fez medina aims to improve pedestrian circulation and reestablish a connection to the waterfront. For the benefit of locals, craftspeople, and tourists from around the globe, existing buildings were maintained and new areas created.Vision Pakistan. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Usman Saqib ZuberiPakistanVision Pakistan, in Islamabad by DB Studios / Mohammad Saifullah SiddiquiA tailoring training center run by Vision Pakistan, a nonprofit organization dedicated to empowering underprivileged adolescents, is located in Islamabad by DB Studios/Mohammad Saifullah Siddiqui. Situated in a crowded neighborhood, this multi-story building features flashy jaalis influenced by Arab and Pakistani crafts, echoing the city's 1960s design.Denso Hall Rahguzar Project. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Usman Saqib ZuberiPakistanDenso Hall Rahguzar Project, in Karachi by Heritage Foundation Pakistan / Yasmeen LariThe Heritage Foundation of Pakistan/Yasmeen Lari's Denso Hall Rahguzar Project in Karachi is a heritage-led eco-urban enclave that was built with low-carbon materials in response to the city's severe climate, which is prone to heat waves and floods. The freshly planted "forests" are irrigated by the handcrafted terracotta cobbles, which absorb rainfall and cool and purify the air.Wonder Cabinet. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Mikaela BurstowPalestineWonder Cabinet, in Bethlehem by AAU AnastasThe architects at AAU Anastas established Wonder Cabinet, a multifunctional, nonprofit exhibition and production venue in Bethlehem. The three-story concrete building was constructed with the help of regional contractors and artisans, and it is quickly emerging as a major center for learning, design, craft, and innovation.The Ned. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Cemal EmdenQatarThe Ned Hotel, in Doha by David Chipperfield ArchitectsThe Ministry of Interior was housed in the Ned Hotel in Doha, which was designed by David Chipperfield Architects. Its Middle Eastern brutalist building was meticulously transformed into a 90-room boutique hotel, thereby promoting architectural revitalization in the region.Shamalat Cultural Centre. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Hassan Al ShattiSaudi ArabiaShamalat Cultural Centre, in Riyadh, by Syn Architects / Sara Alissa, Nojoud AlsudairiOn the outskirts of Diriyah, the Shamalat Cultural Centre in Riyadh was created by Syn Architects/Sara Alissa, Nojoud Alsudairi. It was created from an old mud home that artist Maha Malluh had renovated. The center, which aims to incorporate historic places into daily life, provides a sensitive viewpoint on heritage conservation in the area by contrasting the old and the contemporary.Rehabilitation and Extension of Dakar Railway Station. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Sylvain CherkaouiSenegalRehabilitation and Extension of Dakar Railway Station, in Dakar by Ga2DIn order to accommodate the passengers of a new express train line, Ga2D extended and renovated Dakar train Station, which purposefully contrasts the old and modern buildings. The forecourt was once again open to pedestrian traffic after vehicular traffic was limited to the rear of the property.Rami Library. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Cemal EmdenTürkiyeRami Library, by Han Tümertekin Design & ConsultancyThe largest library in Istanbul is the Rami Library, designed by Han Tümertekin Design & Consultancy. It occupied the former Rami Barracks, a sizable, single-story building with enormous volumes that was constructed in the eighteenth century. In order to accommodate new library operations while maintaining the structure's original spatial features, a minimal intervention method was used.Morocco Pavilion Expo Dubai 2020. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Deed StudioUnited Arab EmiratesMorocco Pavilion Expo Dubai 2020, by Oualalou + ChoiOualalou + Choi's Morocco Pavilion Expo Dubai 2020 is intended to last beyond Expo 2020 and be transformed into a cultural center. The pavilion is a trailblazer in the development of large-scale rammed earth building techniques. Its use of passive cooling techniques, which minimize the need for mechanical air conditioning, earned it the gold LEED accreditation.At each project location, independent professionals such as architects, conservation specialists, planners, and structural engineers have conducted thorough evaluations of the nominated projects. This summer, the Master Jury convenes once more to analyze the on-site evaluations and choose the ultimate Award winners.The top image in the article: The Arc at Green School. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo Widityawan.> via Aga Khan Award for Architecture #aga #khan #award #architecture #announces
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    Aga Khan Award for Architecture 2025 announces 19 shortlisted projects from 15 countries
    html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40/loose.dtd" 19 shortlisted projects for the 2025 Award cycle were revealed by the Aga Khan Award for Architecture (AKAA). A portion of the $1 million prize, one of the biggest in architecture, will be awarded to the winning proposals. Out of the 369 projects nominated for the 16th Award Cycle (2023-2025), an independent Master Jury chose the 19 shortlisted projects from 15 countries.The nine members of the Master Jury for the 16th Award cycle include Azra Akšamija, Noura Al-Sayeh Holtrop, Lucia Allais, David Basulto, Yvonne Farrell, Kabage Karanja, Yacouba Konaté, Hassan Radoine, and Mun Summ Wong.His Late Highness Prince Karim Aga Khan IV created the Aga Khan Award for Architecture in 1977 to recognize and promote architectural ideas that effectively meet the needs and goals of communities where Muslims are a major population. Nearly 10,000 construction projects have been documented since the award's inception 48 years ago, and 128 projects have been granted it. The AKAA's selection method places a strong emphasis on architecture that stimulates and responds to people's cultural ambitions in addition to meeting their physical, social, and economic demands.The Aga Khan Award for Architecture is governed by a Steering Committee chaired by His Highness the Aga Khan. The other members of the Steering Committee are Meisa Batayneh, Principal Architect, Founder, maisam architects and engineers, Amman, Jordan; Souleymane Bachir Diagne, Professor of Philosophy and Francophone Studies, Columbia University, New York, United States of America; Lesley Lokko, Founder & Director, African Futures Institute, Accra, Ghana; Gülru Necipoğlu, Director and Professor, Aga Khan Program for Islamic Architecture, Harvard University, Cambridge, United States of America; Hashim Sarkis, Founder & Principal, Hashim Sarkis Studios (HSS); Dean, School of Architecture and Planning, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, United States of America; and Sarah M. Whiting, Partner, WW Architecture; Dean and Josep Lluís Sert Professor of Architecture, Graduate School of Design, Harvard University, Cambridge, United States of America. Farrokh Derakhshani is the Director of the Award.Examples of outstanding architecture in the areas of modern design, social housing, community development and enhancement, historic preservation, reuse and area conservation, landscape design, and environmental enhancement are recognized by the Aga Khan Award for Architecture.Building plans that creatively utilize local resources and relevant technologies, as well as initiatives that could spur such initiatives abroad, are given special consideration. It should be mentioned that in addition to honoring architects, the Award also recognizes towns, builders, clients, master craftspeople, and engineers who have contributed significantly to the project.Projects had to be completed between January 1, 2018, and December 31, 2023, and they had to have been operational for a minimum of one year in order to be eligible for consideration in the 2025 Award cycle. The Award is not available for projects that His Highness the Aga Khan or any of the Aga Khan Development Network (AKDN) institutions have commissioned.See the 19 shortlisted projects with their short project descriptions competing for the 2025 Award Cycle:Khudi Bari. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / City Syntax (F. M. Faruque Abdullah Shawon, H. M. Fozla Rabby Apurbo)BangladeshKhudi Bari, in various locations, by Marina Tabassum ArchitectsMarina Tabassum Architects' Khudi Bari, which can be readily disassembled and reassembled to suit the needs of the users, is a replicable solution for displaced communities impacted by geographic and climatic changes.West Wusutu Village Community Centre. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Dou Yujun (photographer)ChinaWest Wusutu Village Community Centre, Hohhot, Inner Mongolia, by Zhang PengjuIn addition to meeting the religious demands of the local Hui Muslims, Zhang Pengju's West Wusutu Village Community Centre in Hohhot, Inner Mongolia, offers social and cultural spaces for locals and artists. Constructed from recycled bricks, it features multipurpose indoor and outdoor areas that promote communal harmony.Revitalisation of Historic Esna. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Ahmed Salem (photographer)EgyptRevitalisation of Historic Esna, by Takween Integrated Community DevelopmentBy using physical interventions, socioeconomic projects, and creative urban planning techniques, Takween Integrated Community Development's Revitalization of Historic Esna tackles the issues of cultural tourism in Upper Egypt and turns the once-forgotten area around the Temple of Khnum into a thriving historic city.The Arc at Green School. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo Widityawan (photographer)IndonesiaThe Arc at Green School, in Bali, by IBUKU / Elora HardyAfter 15 years of bamboo experimenting at the Green School Bali, IBUKU/Elora Hardy created The Arc at Green School. The Arc is a brand-new community wellness facility built on the foundations of a temporary gym. High-precision engineering and regional handicraft are combined in this construction.Islamic Centre Nurul Yaqin Mosque. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo Widityawan (photographer)IndonesiaIslamic Centre Nurul Yaqin Mosque, in Palu, Central Sulawesi, by Dave Orlando and Fandy GunawanDave Orlando and Fandy Gunawan built the Islamic Center Nurul Yaqin Mosque in Palu, Central Sulawesi, on the location of a previous mosque that was damaged by a 2018 tsunami. There is a place for worship and assembly at the new Islamic Center. Surrounded by a shallow reflecting pool that may be drained to make room for more guests, it is open to the countryside.Microlibrary Warak Kayu. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo Widityawan (photographer)IndonesiaMicrolibraries in various cities, by SHAU / Daliana Suryawinata, Florian HeinzelmannFlorian Heinzelmann, the project's initiator, works with stakeholders at all levels to provide high-quality public spaces in a number of Indonesian parks and kampungs through microlibraries in different towns run by SHAU/Daliana Suryawinata. So far, six have been constructed, and by 2045, 100 are planned.Majara Residence. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Deed Studio (photographer)IranMajara Complex and Community Redevelopment, in Hormuz Island by ZAV Architects / Mohamadreza GhodousiThe Majara Complex and Community Redevelopment on Hormuz Island, designed by ZAV Architects and Mohamadreza Ghodousi, is well-known for its vibrant domes that offer eco-friendly lodging for visitors visiting Hormuz's distinctive scenery. In addition to providing new amenities for the islanders who visit to socialize, pray, or utilize the library, it was constructed by highly trained local laborers.Jahad Metro Plaza. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Deed Studio (photographer)IranJahad Metro Plaza in Tehran, by KA Architecture StudioKA Architecture Studio's Jahad Metro Plaza in Tehran was constructed to replace the dilapidated old buildings. It turned the location into a beloved pedestrian-friendly landmark. The arched vaults, which are covered in locally manufactured brick, vary in height to let air and light into the area they are protecting.Khan Jaljulia Restoration. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Mikaela Burstow (photographer)IsraelKhan Jaljulia Restoration in Jaljulia by Elias KhuriElias Khuri's Khan Jaljulia Restoration is a cost-effective intervention set amidst the remnants of a 14th-century Khan in Jaljulia. By converting the abandoned historical location into a bustling public area for social gatherings, it helps the locals rediscover their cultural history.Campus Startup Lions. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Christopher Wilton-Steer (photographer)KenyaCampus Startup Lions, in Turkana by Kéré ArchitectsKéré Architecture's Campus Startup Lions in Turkana is an educational and entrepreneurial center that offers a venue for community involvement, business incubation, and technology-driven education. The design incorporates solar energy, rainwater harvesting, and tall ventilation towers that resemble the nearby termite mounds, and it was constructed using local volcanic stone.Lalla Yeddouna Square. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Amine Houari (photographer)MoroccoRevitalisation of Lalla Yeddouna Square in the medina of Fez, by Mossessian Architecture and Yassir Khalil StudioMossessian Architecture and Yassir Khalil Studio's revitalization of Lalla Yeddouna Square in the Fez medina aims to improve pedestrian circulation and reestablish a connection to the waterfront. For the benefit of locals, craftspeople, and tourists from around the globe, existing buildings were maintained and new areas created.Vision Pakistan. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Usman Saqib Zuberi (photographer)PakistanVision Pakistan, in Islamabad by DB Studios / Mohammad Saifullah SiddiquiA tailoring training center run by Vision Pakistan, a nonprofit organization dedicated to empowering underprivileged adolescents, is located in Islamabad by DB Studios/Mohammad Saifullah Siddiqui. Situated in a crowded neighborhood, this multi-story building features flashy jaalis influenced by Arab and Pakistani crafts, echoing the city's 1960s design.Denso Hall Rahguzar Project. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Usman Saqib Zuberi (photographer)PakistanDenso Hall Rahguzar Project, in Karachi by Heritage Foundation Pakistan / Yasmeen LariThe Heritage Foundation of Pakistan/Yasmeen Lari's Denso Hall Rahguzar Project in Karachi is a heritage-led eco-urban enclave that was built with low-carbon materials in response to the city's severe climate, which is prone to heat waves and floods. The freshly planted "forests" are irrigated by the handcrafted terracotta cobbles, which absorb rainfall and cool and purify the air.Wonder Cabinet. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Mikaela Burstow (photographer)PalestineWonder Cabinet, in Bethlehem by AAU AnastasThe architects at AAU Anastas established Wonder Cabinet, a multifunctional, nonprofit exhibition and production venue in Bethlehem. The three-story concrete building was constructed with the help of regional contractors and artisans, and it is quickly emerging as a major center for learning, design, craft, and innovation.The Ned. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Cemal Emden (photographer)QatarThe Ned Hotel, in Doha by David Chipperfield ArchitectsThe Ministry of Interior was housed in the Ned Hotel in Doha, which was designed by David Chipperfield Architects. Its Middle Eastern brutalist building was meticulously transformed into a 90-room boutique hotel, thereby promoting architectural revitalization in the region.Shamalat Cultural Centre. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Hassan Al Shatti (photographer)Saudi ArabiaShamalat Cultural Centre, in Riyadh, by Syn Architects / Sara Alissa, Nojoud AlsudairiOn the outskirts of Diriyah, the Shamalat Cultural Centre in Riyadh was created by Syn Architects/Sara Alissa, Nojoud Alsudairi. It was created from an old mud home that artist Maha Malluh had renovated. The center, which aims to incorporate historic places into daily life, provides a sensitive viewpoint on heritage conservation in the area by contrasting the old and the contemporary.Rehabilitation and Extension of Dakar Railway Station. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Sylvain Cherkaoui (photographer)SenegalRehabilitation and Extension of Dakar Railway Station, in Dakar by Ga2DIn order to accommodate the passengers of a new express train line, Ga2D extended and renovated Dakar train Station, which purposefully contrasts the old and modern buildings. The forecourt was once again open to pedestrian traffic after vehicular traffic was limited to the rear of the property.Rami Library. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Cemal Emden (photographer)TürkiyeRami Library, by Han Tümertekin Design & ConsultancyThe largest library in Istanbul is the Rami Library, designed by Han Tümertekin Design & Consultancy. It occupied the former Rami Barracks, a sizable, single-story building with enormous volumes that was constructed in the eighteenth century. In order to accommodate new library operations while maintaining the structure's original spatial features, a minimal intervention method was used.Morocco Pavilion Expo Dubai 2020. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Deed Studio (photographer)United Arab EmiratesMorocco Pavilion Expo Dubai 2020, by Oualalou + ChoiOualalou + Choi's Morocco Pavilion Expo Dubai 2020 is intended to last beyond Expo 2020 and be transformed into a cultural center. The pavilion is a trailblazer in the development of large-scale rammed earth building techniques. Its use of passive cooling techniques, which minimize the need for mechanical air conditioning, earned it the gold LEED accreditation.At each project location, independent professionals such as architects, conservation specialists, planners, and structural engineers have conducted thorough evaluations of the nominated projects. This summer, the Master Jury convenes once more to analyze the on-site evaluations and choose the ultimate Award winners.The top image in the article: The Arc at Green School. Image © Aga Khan Trust for Culture / Andreas Perbowo Widityawan (photographer).> via Aga Khan Award for Architecture
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  • June 2025

    In our June issue
    Our June issue looks at the housing spectrum, with a particular focus on non-market and affordable housing.
    Odile Hénault starts our journey in Montreal, where two shelters—Le Christin by Atelier Big City and Les Studios du PAS by L. McComber in collaboration with Inform—offer dignity to people experiencing homelessness.
    We next travel to Beaverton Heights, a transitional housing project in the Region of Durham, Ontario. Designed by Montgomery Sisam Architects, the complex addresses the often-invisible homelessness of a rural area, and expands the aesthetic possibilities of modular construction.
    In Toronto, we visit Gerrard Healthy Housing by Atkinson Architect, which aims to add gentle density to an established neighbourhood. We also tour Anduhuaun, LGA Architectural Partners’ shelter for Indigenous women, which offers a place of nurture and grounding for its clients.
    LGA Architectural Partners is the coordinating firm behind the new Canadian Housing Catalogue, a repository of designs for multi-family homes. John Lorinc examines the catalogue’s potential for widespread uptake.
    Our long-read this month is a report by Yellowknife-based Kristel Derkowski on the driving factors behind the Northern housing crisis—and ways to start addressing it.
    In this month’s AIA Canada Society Journal, a quartet of Canadian educators explore how architecture schools are contributing to addressing the housing affordability crisis through research, studios, and hands-on initiatives.
    On the other end of the housing spectrum, Adele Weder visits Revery Architecture’s The Butterfly and First Baptist Church. She looks at how the striking landmark delivers tangible benefits for both residents and the wider public.
    Our issue is rounded out by an obituary for Dick Mah Sai-Chew, and reviews of books on the history of the barrack, James Strutt’s round houses, and sustainable housing in a circular economy.
    -Elsa Lam, editor
    The post June 2025 appeared first on Canadian Architect.
    #june
    June 2025
    In our June issue Our June issue looks at the housing spectrum, with a particular focus on non-market and affordable housing. Odile Hénault starts our journey in Montreal, where two shelters—Le Christin by Atelier Big City and Les Studios du PAS by L. McComber in collaboration with Inform—offer dignity to people experiencing homelessness. We next travel to Beaverton Heights, a transitional housing project in the Region of Durham, Ontario. Designed by Montgomery Sisam Architects, the complex addresses the often-invisible homelessness of a rural area, and expands the aesthetic possibilities of modular construction. In Toronto, we visit Gerrard Healthy Housing by Atkinson Architect, which aims to add gentle density to an established neighbourhood. We also tour Anduhuaun, LGA Architectural Partners’ shelter for Indigenous women, which offers a place of nurture and grounding for its clients. LGA Architectural Partners is the coordinating firm behind the new Canadian Housing Catalogue, a repository of designs for multi-family homes. John Lorinc examines the catalogue’s potential for widespread uptake. Our long-read this month is a report by Yellowknife-based Kristel Derkowski on the driving factors behind the Northern housing crisis—and ways to start addressing it. In this month’s AIA Canada Society Journal, a quartet of Canadian educators explore how architecture schools are contributing to addressing the housing affordability crisis through research, studios, and hands-on initiatives. On the other end of the housing spectrum, Adele Weder visits Revery Architecture’s The Butterfly and First Baptist Church. She looks at how the striking landmark delivers tangible benefits for both residents and the wider public. Our issue is rounded out by an obituary for Dick Mah Sai-Chew, and reviews of books on the history of the barrack, James Strutt’s round houses, and sustainable housing in a circular economy. -Elsa Lam, editor The post June 2025 appeared first on Canadian Architect. #june
    WWW.CANADIANARCHITECT.COM
    June 2025
    In our June issue Our June issue looks at the housing spectrum, with a particular focus on non-market and affordable housing. Odile Hénault starts our journey in Montreal, where two shelters—Le Christin by Atelier Big City and Les Studios du PAS by L. McComber in collaboration with Inform—offer dignity to people experiencing homelessness. We next travel to Beaverton Heights, a transitional housing project in the Region of Durham, Ontario. Designed by Montgomery Sisam Architects, the complex addresses the often-invisible homelessness of a rural area, and expands the aesthetic possibilities of modular construction. In Toronto, we visit Gerrard Healthy Housing by Atkinson Architect, which aims to add gentle density to an established neighbourhood. We also tour Anduhuaun, LGA Architectural Partners’ shelter for Indigenous women, which offers a place of nurture and grounding for its clients. LGA Architectural Partners is the coordinating firm behind the new Canadian Housing Catalogue, a repository of designs for multi-family homes. John Lorinc examines the catalogue’s potential for widespread uptake. Our long-read this month is a report by Yellowknife-based Kristel Derkowski on the driving factors behind the Northern housing crisis—and ways to start addressing it. In this month’s AIA Canada Society Journal, a quartet of Canadian educators explore how architecture schools are contributing to addressing the housing affordability crisis through research, studios, and hands-on initiatives. On the other end of the housing spectrum, Adele Weder visits Revery Architecture’s The Butterfly and First Baptist Church. She looks at how the striking landmark delivers tangible benefits for both residents and the wider public. Our issue is rounded out by an obituary for Dick Mah Sai-Chew (1928-2025), and reviews of books on the history of the barrack, James Strutt’s round houses, and sustainable housing in a circular economy. -Elsa Lam, editor The post June 2025 appeared first on Canadian Architect.
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  • Book Review: The Barrack, 1572-1914—Chapters in the History of Emergency Architecture

    Version 1.0.0
    By Robert Jan van PeltThe largest artifact in the touring exhibition Auschwitz. Not Long Ago. Not Far Away., currently on display at the ROM in Toronto, is a wooden barracks building. It’s from the Auschwitz-Monowitz camp, a satellite to Auschwitz created to provide slave labour to the IG Farben corporation for the construction of a synthetic rubber factory. 
    The discovery of a sister building, back in 2012, led exhibition chief curator and architectural historian Robert Jan van Pelt, University Professor at the Waterloo School of Architecture, on a research journey to write a comprehensive history of the barracks—temporary buildings that have not only housed prisoners, but also provided shelter for military servicemen and women, refugees, and natural disaster survivors. “Many people have experienced, for shorter or longer time periods, life in a barrack, and for all of them it represented life on the edge, for better or worse,” writes Van Pelt.
    Worm’s eye axonometric of Renkioi Hospital Barrack, a prefabricated hospital designed by Ismabard Kingdom Brunel for a site in Turkey, 1857.
    Van Pelt’s book criss-crosses with ease through architectural history, military history, and the history of medicine—all of which played crucial roles in the evolving development of this seemingly simple building type. The book is arranged in a dozen episodes, with the barrack at the centre of each, serving as an anchor point for unfolding the rich intellectual and historical context shaping the way these structures were developed and deployed. The book is richly illustrated with archival materials—a feat in itself, given that the documentation for temporary buildings, particularly before 1900, is scarce. These drawings, photos, and paintings are supplemented with 20 worm’s eye views of key buildings, carefully composed by a team of Waterloo architecture school students and alumni. 
    Thomas Thomaszoon, View of the headquarters of the Spanish in the Huis tea Kleef during the siege of Haarlem, 1572-73. Collection of Noord-Hollands Archief, Haarlem; courtesy Robert Jan van Pelt
    Like many vernacular buildings, temporary structures larger than a tent, designed to house soldiers in the field, have existed at least since Ancient Rome. One of the first visual accounts of barracks came centuries later, in the winter of 1572, when the Spanish laid siege to the Dutch city of Haarlem, and cartographer Thomas Thomaszoon sketched the position of dozens of Spain’s wood-and-straw structures outside the city. The siege was successful, but only a few years later, the Dutch Republic gained the upper hand. As part of the creation of a standing army, they began to develop more precise instructions for the layout of camps, including the construction of temporary barracks.
    Antoine-François Omet des Foucaux, Barrack constructed in Hendaye, France, 1793. From Jean-Charles Krafft, Plans, coupes et élévations de diverses productions de l’art de la charpente, 1805. Collection of Bilbliothèque Nationale de France, Paris. Courtesy Robert Jan van Pelt
    The Napoleonic army made use of barracks in both military camps and training camps; by the mid-1800s, the construction of various barrack types was detailed in field construction manuals issued to officers in many European armies.
    During the Crimean War, over 3,500 prefabricated barracks were manufactured in a Gloucester factory, as a solution to the appalling conditions at the front. But when the structures arrived at port, British forces were not able to unload and erect them—the materials for a single building weighed more than two tons, and each would require 60 horsesto transport to camp on the muddy roads. 
    The USArmy’s Lincoln Hospital, Washington, DC, 1865. Collection of Library of Congress, Washington, DC. Courtesy Robert Jan van Pelt
    Prefabrication was also used, with somewhat more success, towards the end of the conflict to erect field hospitals designed by British engineer Isambard Kingdom Brunel with a priority on cross-ventilation to limit the spread of disease. Low mortality rates from similar structures led to a continued preference for “barrack hospitals” based on groupings of low-slung, well-ventilated pavilions, rather than conceived as single grand structures. The model was further refined with the addition of primitive underfloor heating and ridge ventilation by former surgeon William A. Hammond for the Union Army during the American Civil War. 
    Barrack hospitals were constructed for civilian use, as well. Following the conclusion of the Franco-Prussian war, such designs were built to house patients with infectious diseases in Berlin and proposed as a means to bring professional medical care to Germany’s rural areas. A barracks-inspired hospital was built in Saint Petersburg, Russia, in 1889, and continues to be operational. 
    If the barrack as an accommodation for the sick is a progressive tale, the 19th-century history of the barrack is equally checkered by the building type’s use for prisoner accommodation, including in the penal colonies of Australia and French Guiana. In North America, barracks were used in an internment camp for Native American Dakotas, and Civil War-era Union barracks at Camp Douglas were used to house Confederate prisoners. The oldest preserved barrack in the world may be in Canada, at Grosse Isle national park. Here, barrack-style quarantine sheds were used to detain thousands of Irish immigrant families during the typhoid fever epidemic of 1846-47, and their damp, fetid conditions contributed to many deaths—an episode Van Pelt describes as a “blot on the national consciousness of Canada.”
    A single Doecker Hut contains an operation room, pharmacy and hospital management office. The prefabricated, portable hospitals were developed in 1885, and used around the world, including in the First World War. In America, they were marketed for managing epidemics in the wake of the 1892 typhus fever outbreak in New York. Courtesy Berlin State Library and Robert Jan van Pelt
     
    At the turn of the 19th century, the prefabricated portable barrack came to the fore with the manufacturing of the Doecker barracks, by Christoph & Unmack, a firm based in Copenhagen and Germany. Developed by a former military officer-turned-tentmaker, the technically sophisticated model used large rectangular frames that could be clipped together, and covered with “felt-cardboard”—dense felt pressed onto canvas and impregnated with linseed oil. The self-supporting structures proved easy to set up, dismount, and transport, making them suitable for both military applications—and, with little modification, for humanitarian aid. The Red Cross deployed Doecker barracks for use as field hospitals in Manchuria and Yokohama during the Russo-Japanese War. 
    The Barrack, 1572-1914 wraps up in in the early 20th century, but with the note that in the ensuing decades until 1945, millions of barracks were produced by many of the world’s major nations—and that most of these were erected in barbed-wire-ringed compounds. “This is the period in which tens if not hundreds of millions of people, many of whom were civilians, were forced to live in barracks, as refugees, as expellees, as civilian internees, as forced laborers, as prisoners or war, as concentration camp prisoners, and as people made homeless by the destruction wrought by war,” writes Van Pelt. Up until 1914, he notes, this building type largely carried a sense of achievement—an image that would change sharply with the Age of the Camps. But although a WWII barrack was responsible for instigating Van Pelt’s initial investigation, that time period will need to await a second volume on this simple building type with a rich, complex, and complicated history. 

     As appeared in the June 2025 issue of Canadian Architect magazine 

    The post Book Review: The Barrack, 1572-1914—Chapters in the History of Emergency Architecture appeared first on Canadian Architect.
    #book #review #barrack #15721914chapters #history
    Book Review: The Barrack, 1572-1914—Chapters in the History of Emergency Architecture
    Version 1.0.0 By Robert Jan van PeltThe largest artifact in the touring exhibition Auschwitz. Not Long Ago. Not Far Away., currently on display at the ROM in Toronto, is a wooden barracks building. It’s from the Auschwitz-Monowitz camp, a satellite to Auschwitz created to provide slave labour to the IG Farben corporation for the construction of a synthetic rubber factory.  The discovery of a sister building, back in 2012, led exhibition chief curator and architectural historian Robert Jan van Pelt, University Professor at the Waterloo School of Architecture, on a research journey to write a comprehensive history of the barracks—temporary buildings that have not only housed prisoners, but also provided shelter for military servicemen and women, refugees, and natural disaster survivors. “Many people have experienced, for shorter or longer time periods, life in a barrack, and for all of them it represented life on the edge, for better or worse,” writes Van Pelt. Worm’s eye axonometric of Renkioi Hospital Barrack, a prefabricated hospital designed by Ismabard Kingdom Brunel for a site in Turkey, 1857. Van Pelt’s book criss-crosses with ease through architectural history, military history, and the history of medicine—all of which played crucial roles in the evolving development of this seemingly simple building type. The book is arranged in a dozen episodes, with the barrack at the centre of each, serving as an anchor point for unfolding the rich intellectual and historical context shaping the way these structures were developed and deployed. The book is richly illustrated with archival materials—a feat in itself, given that the documentation for temporary buildings, particularly before 1900, is scarce. These drawings, photos, and paintings are supplemented with 20 worm’s eye views of key buildings, carefully composed by a team of Waterloo architecture school students and alumni.  Thomas Thomaszoon, View of the headquarters of the Spanish in the Huis tea Kleef during the siege of Haarlem, 1572-73. Collection of Noord-Hollands Archief, Haarlem; courtesy Robert Jan van Pelt Like many vernacular buildings, temporary structures larger than a tent, designed to house soldiers in the field, have existed at least since Ancient Rome. One of the first visual accounts of barracks came centuries later, in the winter of 1572, when the Spanish laid siege to the Dutch city of Haarlem, and cartographer Thomas Thomaszoon sketched the position of dozens of Spain’s wood-and-straw structures outside the city. The siege was successful, but only a few years later, the Dutch Republic gained the upper hand. As part of the creation of a standing army, they began to develop more precise instructions for the layout of camps, including the construction of temporary barracks. Antoine-François Omet des Foucaux, Barrack constructed in Hendaye, France, 1793. From Jean-Charles Krafft, Plans, coupes et élévations de diverses productions de l’art de la charpente, 1805. Collection of Bilbliothèque Nationale de France, Paris. Courtesy Robert Jan van Pelt The Napoleonic army made use of barracks in both military camps and training camps; by the mid-1800s, the construction of various barrack types was detailed in field construction manuals issued to officers in many European armies. During the Crimean War, over 3,500 prefabricated barracks were manufactured in a Gloucester factory, as a solution to the appalling conditions at the front. But when the structures arrived at port, British forces were not able to unload and erect them—the materials for a single building weighed more than two tons, and each would require 60 horsesto transport to camp on the muddy roads.  The USArmy’s Lincoln Hospital, Washington, DC, 1865. Collection of Library of Congress, Washington, DC. Courtesy Robert Jan van Pelt Prefabrication was also used, with somewhat more success, towards the end of the conflict to erect field hospitals designed by British engineer Isambard Kingdom Brunel with a priority on cross-ventilation to limit the spread of disease. Low mortality rates from similar structures led to a continued preference for “barrack hospitals” based on groupings of low-slung, well-ventilated pavilions, rather than conceived as single grand structures. The model was further refined with the addition of primitive underfloor heating and ridge ventilation by former surgeon William A. Hammond for the Union Army during the American Civil War.  Barrack hospitals were constructed for civilian use, as well. Following the conclusion of the Franco-Prussian war, such designs were built to house patients with infectious diseases in Berlin and proposed as a means to bring professional medical care to Germany’s rural areas. A barracks-inspired hospital was built in Saint Petersburg, Russia, in 1889, and continues to be operational.  If the barrack as an accommodation for the sick is a progressive tale, the 19th-century history of the barrack is equally checkered by the building type’s use for prisoner accommodation, including in the penal colonies of Australia and French Guiana. In North America, barracks were used in an internment camp for Native American Dakotas, and Civil War-era Union barracks at Camp Douglas were used to house Confederate prisoners. The oldest preserved barrack in the world may be in Canada, at Grosse Isle national park. Here, barrack-style quarantine sheds were used to detain thousands of Irish immigrant families during the typhoid fever epidemic of 1846-47, and their damp, fetid conditions contributed to many deaths—an episode Van Pelt describes as a “blot on the national consciousness of Canada.” A single Doecker Hut contains an operation room, pharmacy and hospital management office. The prefabricated, portable hospitals were developed in 1885, and used around the world, including in the First World War. In America, they were marketed for managing epidemics in the wake of the 1892 typhus fever outbreak in New York. Courtesy Berlin State Library and Robert Jan van Pelt   At the turn of the 19th century, the prefabricated portable barrack came to the fore with the manufacturing of the Doecker barracks, by Christoph & Unmack, a firm based in Copenhagen and Germany. Developed by a former military officer-turned-tentmaker, the technically sophisticated model used large rectangular frames that could be clipped together, and covered with “felt-cardboard”—dense felt pressed onto canvas and impregnated with linseed oil. The self-supporting structures proved easy to set up, dismount, and transport, making them suitable for both military applications—and, with little modification, for humanitarian aid. The Red Cross deployed Doecker barracks for use as field hospitals in Manchuria and Yokohama during the Russo-Japanese War.  The Barrack, 1572-1914 wraps up in in the early 20th century, but with the note that in the ensuing decades until 1945, millions of barracks were produced by many of the world’s major nations—and that most of these were erected in barbed-wire-ringed compounds. “This is the period in which tens if not hundreds of millions of people, many of whom were civilians, were forced to live in barracks, as refugees, as expellees, as civilian internees, as forced laborers, as prisoners or war, as concentration camp prisoners, and as people made homeless by the destruction wrought by war,” writes Van Pelt. Up until 1914, he notes, this building type largely carried a sense of achievement—an image that would change sharply with the Age of the Camps. But although a WWII barrack was responsible for instigating Van Pelt’s initial investigation, that time period will need to await a second volume on this simple building type with a rich, complex, and complicated history.   As appeared in the June 2025 issue of Canadian Architect magazine  The post Book Review: The Barrack, 1572-1914—Chapters in the History of Emergency Architecture appeared first on Canadian Architect. #book #review #barrack #15721914chapters #history
    WWW.CANADIANARCHITECT.COM
    Book Review: The Barrack, 1572-1914—Chapters in the History of Emergency Architecture
    Version 1.0.0 By Robert Jan van Pelt (Park Books, 2025) The largest artifact in the touring exhibition Auschwitz. Not Long Ago. Not Far Away., currently on display at the ROM in Toronto, is a wooden barracks building. It’s from the Auschwitz-Monowitz camp, a satellite to Auschwitz created to provide slave labour to the IG Farben corporation for the construction of a synthetic rubber factory.  The discovery of a sister building, back in 2012, led exhibition chief curator and architectural historian Robert Jan van Pelt, University Professor at the Waterloo School of Architecture, on a research journey to write a comprehensive history of the barracks—temporary buildings that have not only housed prisoners, but also provided shelter for military servicemen and women, refugees, and natural disaster survivors. “Many people have experienced, for shorter or longer time periods, life in a barrack, and for all of them it represented life on the edge, for better or worse,” writes Van Pelt. Worm’s eye axonometric of Renkioi Hospital Barrack, a prefabricated hospital designed by Ismabard Kingdom Brunel for a site in Turkey, 1857. Van Pelt’s book criss-crosses with ease through architectural history, military history, and the history of medicine—all of which played crucial roles in the evolving development of this seemingly simple building type. The book is arranged in a dozen episodes, with the barrack at the centre of each, serving as an anchor point for unfolding the rich intellectual and historical context shaping the way these structures were developed and deployed. The book is richly illustrated with archival materials—a feat in itself, given that the documentation for temporary buildings, particularly before 1900, is scarce. These drawings, photos, and paintings are supplemented with 20 worm’s eye views of key buildings, carefully composed by a team of Waterloo architecture school students and alumni.  Thomas Thomaszoon, View of the headquarters of the Spanish in the Huis tea Kleef during the siege of Haarlem, 1572-73. Collection of Noord-Hollands Archief, Haarlem; courtesy Robert Jan van Pelt Like many vernacular buildings, temporary structures larger than a tent, designed to house soldiers in the field, have existed at least since Ancient Rome. One of the first visual accounts of barracks came centuries later, in the winter of 1572, when the Spanish laid siege to the Dutch city of Haarlem, and cartographer Thomas Thomaszoon sketched the position of dozens of Spain’s wood-and-straw structures outside the city. The siege was successful, but only a few years later, the Dutch Republic gained the upper hand. As part of the creation of a standing army, they began to develop more precise instructions for the layout of camps, including the construction of temporary barracks. Antoine-François Omet des Foucaux, Barrack constructed in Hendaye, France, 1793. From Jean-Charles Krafft, Plans, coupes et élévations de diverses productions de l’art de la charpente, 1805. Collection of Bilbliothèque Nationale de France, Paris. Courtesy Robert Jan van Pelt The Napoleonic army made use of barracks in both military camps and training camps; by the mid-1800s, the construction of various barrack types was detailed in field construction manuals issued to officers in many European armies. During the Crimean War (1853-56), over 3,500 prefabricated barracks were manufactured in a Gloucester factory, as a solution to the appalling conditions at the front. But when the structures arrived at port, British forces were not able to unload and erect them—the materials for a single building weighed more than two tons, and each would require 60 horses (or 150 men) to transport to camp on the muddy roads.  The US (Union) Army’s Lincoln Hospital, Washington, DC, 1865. Collection of Library of Congress, Washington, DC. Courtesy Robert Jan van Pelt Prefabrication was also used, with somewhat more success, towards the end of the conflict to erect field hospitals designed by British engineer Isambard Kingdom Brunel with a priority on cross-ventilation to limit the spread of disease. Low mortality rates from similar structures led to a continued preference for “barrack hospitals” based on groupings of low-slung, well-ventilated pavilions, rather than conceived as single grand structures. The model was further refined with the addition of primitive underfloor heating and ridge ventilation by former surgeon William A. Hammond for the Union Army during the American Civil War (1861-65).  Barrack hospitals were constructed for civilian use, as well. Following the conclusion of the Franco-Prussian war (1870-71), such designs were built to house patients with infectious diseases in Berlin and proposed as a means to bring professional medical care to Germany’s rural areas. A barracks-inspired hospital was built in Saint Petersburg, Russia, in 1889, and continues to be operational.  If the barrack as an accommodation for the sick is a progressive tale, the 19th-century history of the barrack is equally checkered by the building type’s use for prisoner accommodation, including in the penal colonies of Australia and French Guiana. In North America, barracks were used in an internment camp for Native American Dakotas, and Civil War-era Union barracks at Camp Douglas were used to house Confederate prisoners. The oldest preserved barrack in the world may be in Canada, at Grosse Isle national park. Here, barrack-style quarantine sheds were used to detain thousands of Irish immigrant families during the typhoid fever epidemic of 1846-47, and their damp, fetid conditions contributed to many deaths—an episode Van Pelt describes as a “blot on the national consciousness of Canada.” A single Doecker Hut contains an operation room, pharmacy and hospital management office. The prefabricated, portable hospitals were developed in 1885, and used around the world, including in the First World War. In America, they were marketed for managing epidemics in the wake of the 1892 typhus fever outbreak in New York. Courtesy Berlin State Library and Robert Jan van Pelt   At the turn of the 19th century, the prefabricated portable barrack came to the fore with the manufacturing of the Doecker barracks, by Christoph & Unmack, a firm based in Copenhagen and Germany. Developed by a former military officer-turned-tentmaker, the technically sophisticated model used large rectangular frames that could be clipped together, and covered with “felt-cardboard”—dense felt pressed onto canvas and impregnated with linseed oil. The self-supporting structures proved easy to set up, dismount, and transport, making them suitable for both military applications—and, with little modification, for humanitarian aid. The Red Cross deployed Doecker barracks for use as field hospitals in Manchuria and Yokohama during the Russo-Japanese War (1904-05).  The Barrack, 1572-1914 wraps up in in the early 20th century, but with the note that in the ensuing decades until 1945, millions of barracks were produced by many of the world’s major nations—and that most of these were erected in barbed-wire-ringed compounds. “This is the period in which tens if not hundreds of millions of people, many of whom were civilians, were forced to live in barracks, as refugees, as expellees, as civilian internees, as forced laborers, as prisoners or war, as concentration camp prisoners, and as people made homeless by the destruction wrought by war,” writes Van Pelt. Up until 1914, he notes, this building type largely carried a sense of achievement—an image that would change sharply with the Age of the Camps. But although a WWII barrack was responsible for instigating Van Pelt’s initial investigation, that time period will need to await a second volume on this simple building type with a rich, complex, and complicated history.   As appeared in the June 2025 issue of Canadian Architect magazine  The post Book Review: The Barrack, 1572-1914—Chapters in the History of Emergency Architecture appeared first on Canadian Architect.
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  • Blade Ballad: Binds and Spears

    Binding mechanics are reworked to allow freedom of movement. New features include blade recoil for beats, improved AI, the addition of spears, and experimental LAN. Banking mechanics are conceptualized to add realism in the game's story mode.

    Posted by khiemgluong on May 17th, 2025
    0.5.0
    Combat
    Physical Binding
    I had touched on how fluid movement is important for engaging gameplay in a previous post, failing to realize that the way binding would freeze you in place was contradictory to that point.
    The previous approach to binding was a matter of programming limitation rather than technical. I couldn't figure out a way to allow blade movement tangent to another blade without tunneling issues, since weapon movement was only relative to the character, rather than relative to its own collisions.
    The solution was to enable a minimal amount of physics to control the blade, torqued by an angular force enough to keep the weapon oriented upright, while base movement would still use kinematics. It will only be in play when another object is acting upon it, rather than be the driving force of the weapon. This meant that in the event of a bind, the weapon would align itself to the blade it's bound with, and as demonstrated in the video, maintains the pressure necessary to keep the weapon in contact without tunneling.
    With a more stable and consistent binding mechanic I was able to unrestrict weapon and character movement, allowing for a new combat paradigm where opponents would wrestle each other for the most ideal attack angle.
    Blade "Recoil"
    To add another layer of reactivity, the blade that receives the attack would "recoil" opposite to the direction of the blade that struck it as demonstrated in the video.
    This technique allows you to strike your opponent’s blade to create an opening for an attack. It's based on a real sword-fighting strategy where, instead of targeting the opponent directly, you first displace their defense by "beating" their blade out of the way.
    Combat Movement
    A new set of root motion animations for combat have been added to accompany the more aggressive AI. In previous versions, NPCs wielding shorter swords rarely stood a chance against those with larger ones. But now, a katana wielding gladiator can stand his ground—even without chest armor—against an opponent armed with a zweihander, and go on to win the rematch. In summary: size doesn't matter.
    The only current limitation left is how to handle dynamic target locking. It's fine when you're in a 1v1 duel, but against several enemies, especially now that each team gets up to 8 people in the arena, then it becomes an impediment rather than an advantage.

    Models
    Armor

    Speaking of chest armor, the Lorica Hamatais now part of the gladiator loadout. As far as Roman themed items go, this might be one of the last to be added.
    Spears
    Spears have been a near universal weapon in the ancient world, yet rarely receives representation in games in comparison to swords, likely something to do with the fact that it's really overpowered. I included it irregardlessly because I wanted to experiment with a new melee control system.
    Spears do not rotate like swords, instead it only pans, where the panning controls the spear tip. It's the perfect weapon against armored opponents or for fighters who prefer fighting from a distance with precise thrusts.
    Just keep in mind that spears still inherits the drawbacks of its real life counterpart.
    Scripts
    LAN Play
    Networked gameplay—something that's been on the backburner for a while, and something I’ve always wanted to implement—have now been developed into something barebones but functional.
    To start a LAN game, it's as easy as choosing LAN in the arena dropdown, and if you're starting the game, choose the host or server and share the IP address that is displayed to your clients.
    The host will have to spawn in the arena before clients can join.

    Story Mode
    The starting town in Story Mode is composed of simple, geometric structures, built with the Placeable system.
    Not every buildings will be created with this system, but a good portion of generic buildings will be, so apartments, barracks, or anything with a blocky form. Unique or curved structures, like the Colosseum, will be modeled instead.
    Banking
    Moneyin the world of Blade Ballad will have tangible weight, so it wouldn't be smart to go adventuring while hauling your entire fortune everywhere, as it will slow you down and draw unwanted attention from bandits, thieves and scam artists.
    Instead, you would make use of the many banks and deposit boxes located throughout the world to store your coin, whether earned or stolen. These banks would allow deposit, withdrawal and transfers to other banks, and will attempt to keep your wealth safe, with varying degrees of success.
    However, ancient bankscame with their own problems. One would be its vulnerability to raiders. Since FDIC wasn't a thing, your money is effectively gone if it was looted. Corruption would be present as welland would come in the form of "misplaced" funds, usury, embezzlement, preferential treatment to families of bankers, etc.
    This is intended to help you realize that you don't need all that gold. In most open world games I've played, I've always finished it with a massive pile of money in my inventory. All that time finding and selling items and I ended up not spending most of it anyways.
    #blade #ballad #binds #spears
    Blade Ballad: Binds and Spears
    Binding mechanics are reworked to allow freedom of movement. New features include blade recoil for beats, improved AI, the addition of spears, and experimental LAN. Banking mechanics are conceptualized to add realism in the game's story mode. Posted by khiemgluong on May 17th, 2025 0.5.0 Combat Physical Binding I had touched on how fluid movement is important for engaging gameplay in a previous post, failing to realize that the way binding would freeze you in place was contradictory to that point. The previous approach to binding was a matter of programming limitation rather than technical. I couldn't figure out a way to allow blade movement tangent to another blade without tunneling issues, since weapon movement was only relative to the character, rather than relative to its own collisions. The solution was to enable a minimal amount of physics to control the blade, torqued by an angular force enough to keep the weapon oriented upright, while base movement would still use kinematics. It will only be in play when another object is acting upon it, rather than be the driving force of the weapon. This meant that in the event of a bind, the weapon would align itself to the blade it's bound with, and as demonstrated in the video, maintains the pressure necessary to keep the weapon in contact without tunneling. With a more stable and consistent binding mechanic I was able to unrestrict weapon and character movement, allowing for a new combat paradigm where opponents would wrestle each other for the most ideal attack angle. Blade "Recoil" To add another layer of reactivity, the blade that receives the attack would "recoil" opposite to the direction of the blade that struck it as demonstrated in the video. This technique allows you to strike your opponent’s blade to create an opening for an attack. It's based on a real sword-fighting strategy where, instead of targeting the opponent directly, you first displace their defense by "beating" their blade out of the way. Combat Movement A new set of root motion animations for combat have been added to accompany the more aggressive AI. In previous versions, NPCs wielding shorter swords rarely stood a chance against those with larger ones. But now, a katana wielding gladiator can stand his ground—even without chest armor—against an opponent armed with a zweihander, and go on to win the rematch. In summary: size doesn't matter. The only current limitation left is how to handle dynamic target locking. It's fine when you're in a 1v1 duel, but against several enemies, especially now that each team gets up to 8 people in the arena, then it becomes an impediment rather than an advantage. Models Armor Speaking of chest armor, the Lorica Hamatais now part of the gladiator loadout. As far as Roman themed items go, this might be one of the last to be added. Spears Spears have been a near universal weapon in the ancient world, yet rarely receives representation in games in comparison to swords, likely something to do with the fact that it's really overpowered. I included it irregardlessly because I wanted to experiment with a new melee control system. Spears do not rotate like swords, instead it only pans, where the panning controls the spear tip. It's the perfect weapon against armored opponents or for fighters who prefer fighting from a distance with precise thrusts. Just keep in mind that spears still inherits the drawbacks of its real life counterpart. Scripts LAN Play Networked gameplay—something that's been on the backburner for a while, and something I’ve always wanted to implement—have now been developed into something barebones but functional. To start a LAN game, it's as easy as choosing LAN in the arena dropdown, and if you're starting the game, choose the host or server and share the IP address that is displayed to your clients. The host will have to spawn in the arena before clients can join. Story Mode The starting town in Story Mode is composed of simple, geometric structures, built with the Placeable system. Not every buildings will be created with this system, but a good portion of generic buildings will be, so apartments, barracks, or anything with a blocky form. Unique or curved structures, like the Colosseum, will be modeled instead. Banking Moneyin the world of Blade Ballad will have tangible weight, so it wouldn't be smart to go adventuring while hauling your entire fortune everywhere, as it will slow you down and draw unwanted attention from bandits, thieves and scam artists. Instead, you would make use of the many banks and deposit boxes located throughout the world to store your coin, whether earned or stolen. These banks would allow deposit, withdrawal and transfers to other banks, and will attempt to keep your wealth safe, with varying degrees of success. However, ancient bankscame with their own problems. One would be its vulnerability to raiders. Since FDIC wasn't a thing, your money is effectively gone if it was looted. Corruption would be present as welland would come in the form of "misplaced" funds, usury, embezzlement, preferential treatment to families of bankers, etc. This is intended to help you realize that you don't need all that gold. In most open world games I've played, I've always finished it with a massive pile of money in my inventory. All that time finding and selling items and I ended up not spending most of it anyways. #blade #ballad #binds #spears
    WWW.INDIEDB.COM
    Blade Ballad: Binds and Spears
    Binding mechanics are reworked to allow freedom of movement. New features include blade recoil for beats, improved AI, the addition of spears, and experimental LAN. Banking mechanics are conceptualized to add realism in the game's story mode. Posted by khiemgluong on May 17th, 2025 0.5.0 Combat Physical Binding I had touched on how fluid movement is important for engaging gameplay in a previous post, failing to realize that the way binding would freeze you in place was contradictory to that point. The previous approach to binding was a matter of programming limitation rather than technical. I couldn't figure out a way to allow blade movement tangent to another blade without tunneling issues, since weapon movement was only relative to the character, rather than relative to its own collisions. The solution was to enable a minimal amount of physics to control the blade, torqued by an angular force enough to keep the weapon oriented upright, while base movement would still use kinematics. It will only be in play when another object is acting upon it, rather than be the driving force of the weapon (unlike that one physics melee "game" that's shilled everywhere). This meant that in the event of a bind, the weapon would align itself to the blade it's bound with, and as demonstrated in the video, maintains the pressure necessary to keep the weapon in contact without tunneling. With a more stable and consistent binding mechanic I was able to unrestrict weapon and character movement, allowing for a new combat paradigm where opponents would wrestle each other for the most ideal attack angle. Blade "Recoil" To add another layer of reactivity, the blade that receives the attack would "recoil" opposite to the direction of the blade that struck it as demonstrated in the video. This technique allows you to strike your opponent’s blade to create an opening for an attack. It's based on a real sword-fighting strategy where, instead of targeting the opponent directly, you first displace their defense by "beating" their blade out of the way. Combat Movement A new set of root motion animations for combat have been added to accompany the more aggressive AI. In previous versions, NPCs wielding shorter swords rarely stood a chance against those with larger ones. But now, a katana wielding gladiator can stand his ground—even without chest armor—against an opponent armed with a zweihander, and go on to win the rematch. In summary: size doesn't matter (anymore). The only current limitation left is how to handle dynamic target locking. It's fine when you're in a 1v1 duel, but against several enemies, especially now that each team gets up to 8 people in the arena, then it becomes an impediment rather than an advantage. Models Armor Speaking of chest armor, the Lorica Hamata (chainmail) is now part of the gladiator loadout. As far as Roman themed items go, this might be one of the last to be added. Spears Spears have been a near universal weapon in the ancient world, yet rarely receives representation in games in comparison to swords, likely something to do with the fact that it's really overpowered. I included it irregardlessly because I wanted to experiment with a new melee control system. Spears do not rotate like swords, instead it only pans, where the panning controls the spear tip. It's the perfect weapon against armored opponents or for fighters who prefer fighting from a distance with precise thrusts. Just keep in mind that spears still inherits the drawbacks of its real life counterpart. Scripts LAN Play Networked gameplay—something that's been on the backburner for a while, and something I’ve always wanted to implement—have now been developed into something barebones but functional. To start a LAN game, it's as easy as choosing LAN in the arena dropdown, and if you're starting the game, choose the host or server and share the IP address that is displayed to your clients. The host will have to spawn in the arena before clients can join. Story Mode The starting town in Story Mode is composed of simple, geometric structures, built with the Placeable system. Not every buildings will be created with this system, but a good portion of generic buildings will be, so apartments, barracks, or anything with a blocky form. Unique or curved structures, like the Colosseum, will be modeled instead. Banking Money (gold) in the world of Blade Ballad will have tangible weight, so it wouldn't be smart to go adventuring while hauling your entire fortune everywhere, as it will slow you down and draw unwanted attention from bandits, thieves and scam artists. Instead, you would make use of the many banks and deposit boxes located throughout the world to store your coin, whether earned or stolen. These banks would allow deposit, withdrawal and transfers to other banks, and will attempt to keep your wealth safe, with varying degrees of success. However, ancient banks (which were not globally centralized) came with their own problems. One would be its vulnerability to raiders. Since FDIC wasn't a thing, your money is effectively gone if it was looted. Corruption would be present as well (no different than modern banks) and would come in the form of "misplaced" funds, usury, embezzlement, preferential treatment to families of bankers, etc. This is intended to help you realize that you don't need all that gold. In most open world games I've played, I've always finished it with a massive pile of money in my inventory. All that time finding and selling items and I ended up not spending most of it anyways.
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  • A Public Health Researcher and Her Engineer Husband Found How Diseases Can Spread through Air Decades before the COVID Pandemic

    May 21, 202522 min readMildred Weeks Wells’s Work on Airborne Transmission Could Have Saved Many Lives—If the Scientific Establishment ListenedMildred Weeks Wells and her husband figured out that disease-causing pathogens can spread through the air like smoke Dutton; Lily WhearAir-Borne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe, by Carl Zimmer, charts the history of the field of aerobiology: the science of airborne microorganisms. In this episode, we discover the story of two lost pioneers of the 1930s: physician and self-taught epidemiologist Mildred Weeks Wells and her husband, sanitary engineer William Firth Wells. Together, they proved that infectious pathogens could spread through the air over long distances. But the two had a reputation as outsiders, and they failed to convince the scientific establishment, who ignored their findings for decades. What the pair figured out could have saved many lives from tuberculosis, SARS, COVID and other airborne diseases. The contributions of Mildred Weeks Wells and her husband were all but erased from history—until now.LISTEN TO THE PODCASTOn supporting science journalismIf you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.TRANSCRIPTCarl Zimmer: Mildred is hired in the late 1920s to put together everything that was known about polio. And she does this incredible study, where she basically looks for everything that she can find about how polio spreads.At the time, the idea that it could spread through the air was really looked at as being just an obsolete superstition. Public health experts would say, look, a patient's breath is basically harmless. But the epidemiology looks to her like these germs are airborne, and this goes totally against the consensus at the time.Carol Sutton Lewis: Hello, I'm Carol Sutton Lewis. Welcome to the latest episode of Lost Women of Science Conversations, where we talk with authors and artists who've discovered and celebrated female scientists in books, poetry, film, and the visual arts.Today I'm joined by Carl Zimmer, an award-winning New York Times columnist and the author of 15 books about science. His latest book, Airborne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe, focuses on the last great biological frontier: the air. It presents the history of aerobiology, which is the science dealing with the occurrence, transportation, and effects of airborne microorganisms.The book chronicles the exploits of committed aerobiologists from the early pioneers through to the present day. Among these pioneers were Mildred Weeks Wells and her husband, William Firth Wells.Airborne tells the story of how Mildred and William tried to sound the alarm about airborne infections, but for many reasons, their warnings went unheard.Welcome, Carl Zimmer. It's such a pleasure to have you with us to tell us all about this fascinating woman and her contributions to science.Can you please tell us about Mildred Weeks Wells—where and how she grew up and what led her to the field of aerobiology?Carl Zimmer: She was born in 1891, and she came from a very prominent Texas family—the Denton family. Her great-grandfather is actually whom the city of Denton, Texas is named after. Her grandfather was a surgeon for the Confederate Army in the Civil War, and he becomes the director of what was called then the State Lunatic Asylum.And he and the bookkeeper there, William Weeks, are both charged with embezzlement. It's a big scandal. The bookkeeper then marries Mildred's mother. Then, shortly after Mildred's born, her father disappears. Her mother basically abandons her with her grandmother. And she grows up with her sister and grandmother in Austin, Texas. A comfortable life, but obviously there's a lot of scandal hanging over them.She is clearly incredibly strong-willed. She goes to medical school at the University of Texas and graduates in 1915, one of three women in a class of 34. That is really something for a woman at that point—there were hardly any women with medical degrees in the United States, let alone someone in Texas.But she books out of there. She does not stick around. She heads in 1915 to Washington, D.C., and works at the Public Health Service in a lab called the Hygienic Laboratory. Basically, what they're doing is studying bacteria. You have to remember, this is the golden age of the germ theory of disease. People have been figuring out that particular bacteria or viruses cause particular diseases, and that knowledge is helping them fight those diseases.It's there in Washington at this time that she meets a man who will become her husband, William Firth Wells.Carol Sutton Lewis: Just a quick aside—because we at Lost Women of Science are always interested in how you discover the material in addition to what you've discovered. How were you able to piece together her story? What sources were you able to find? It seems like there wasn't a lot of information available.Carl Zimmer: Yeah, it was a tough process. There is little information that's really easy to get your hands on. I mean, there is no biography of Mildred Wells or her husband, William Firth Wells.At the Rockefeller archives, they had maybe 30 document boxes full of stuff that was just miraculously conserved there. There are also letters that she wrote to people that have been saved in various collections.But especially with her early years, it's really tough. You know, in all my work trying to dig down for every single scrap of information I could find of her, I have only found one photograph of her—and it's the photograph in her yearbook. That’s it.Carol Sutton Lewis: You talked about that photograph in the book, and I was struck by your description of it. You say that she's smiling, but the longer you look at her smile, the sadder it becomes. What do you think at that young age was the source of the sadness?Carl Zimmer: I think that Mildred grew up with a lot of trauma. She was not the sort of person to keep long journals or write long letters about these sorts of things. But when you've come across those clues in these brief little newspaper accounts, you can kind of read between the lines.There are reports in newspapers saying that Mildred's mother had come to Austin to pay a visit to Mildred because she had scarlet fever when she was 10, and then she goes away again. And when I look at her face in her yearbook, it doesn't surprise me that there is this cast of melancholy to it because you just think about what she had gone through just as a kid.Carol Sutton Lewis: Oh. Absolutely. And fast forward, she meets William and they marry. They have a son, and they start collaborating. How did that begin?Carl Zimmer: The collaboration takes a while. So William Wells is also working at the Public Health Service at the time. He is a few years older than Mildred and he has been trained at MIT as what was called then a sanitarian. In other words, he was going to take the germ theory of disease and was going to save people's lives.He was very clever. He could invent tests that a sanitarian could use, dip a little tube into a river and see whether the water was safe or not, things like that. He was particularly focused on keeping water clean of bacteria that could cause diseases like typhoid or cholera and he also, gets assigned by the government to study oysters because oysters, they sit in this water and they're filtering all day long. And you know, if there's bacteria in there, they're going to filter it and trap it in their tissues. And oysters are incredibly popular in the early nineteen hundreds and a shocking number of people are keeling over dying of typhoid because they're eating them raw. So William is very busy, figuring out ways to save the oyster industry. How do we purify oysters and things like that? They meet, they get married in 1917.In 1918 they have a child, William Jr. nicknamed Bud. But William is not around for the birth, because he is drafted into the army, and he goes off to serve. in World War I.Carol Sutton Lewis: So Mildred is at home with Bud and William's off at the war. But ultimately, Mildred returns to science. A few years later, where she is hired as a polio detective. Can you tell me a little bit about what the state of polio knowledge was at the time and what precisely a polio detective did?Carl Zimmer: It doesn't seem like polio really was a thing in the United States until the late 1800s. And then suddenly there's this mysterious disease that can strike children with no warning. These kids can't. walk, or suddenly these kids are dying. Not only are the symptoms completely terrifying to parents, but how it spreads is a complete mystery. And so Mildred, seems to have been hired at some point in the late 1920s To basically put together everything that was known about polio to help doctors to deal with their patients and to, you know, encourage future science to try to figure out what is this disease.You know, Mildred wasn't trained in epidemiology. So it's kind of remarkable that she taught herself. And she would turn out to be a really great epidemiologist. But, in any case, She gets hired by the International Committee for the Study of Infantile Paralysis, that was the name then for polio. And she does this incredible study, where she basically looks for everything that she can find about how polio spreads. Case studies where, in a town, like this child got polio, then this child did, and did they have contact and what sort of contact, what season was it? What was the weather like? All these different factors.And one thing that's really important to bear in mind is that, at this time, the prevailing view was that diseases spread by water, by food, by sex, by close contact. Maybe like someone just coughs and sprays droplets on you, but otherwise it's these other routes.The idea that it could spread through the air was really looked at as being just obsolete superstition. for thousands of years, people talked about miasmas, somehow the air mysteriously became corrupted and that made people sick with different diseases. That was all thrown out in the late 1800s, early 1900s when germ theory really takes hold. And so public health experts would say, look, a patient's breath is basically harmless.Carol Sutton Lewis: But Mildred doesn't agree, does she?Carl Zimmer: Well, Mildred Wells is looking at all of this, data and she is starting to get an idea that maybe these public health experts have been too quick to dismiss the air. So when people are talking about droplet infections in the 1920s, they're basically just talking about, big droplets that someone might just sneeze in your face. But the epidemiology looks to her like these germs are airborne, are spreading long distances through the air.So Mildred is starting to make a distinction in her mind about what she calls airborne and droplet infections. So, and this is really the time that the Wellses collectively are thinking about airborne infection and it's Mildred is doing it. And William actually gives her credit for this later on.Carol Sutton Lewis: Right. and her results are published in a book about polio written entirely by female authors, which is quite unusual for the time.Carl Zimmer: Mm hmm. Right. The book is published in 1932, and the reception just tells you so much about what it was like to be a woman in science. The New England Journal of Medicine reviews the book, which is great. But, here's a line that they give, they say, it is interesting to note that this book is entirely the product of women in medicine and is the first book.So far as a reviewer knows. by a number of authors, all of whom are of the female sex. So it's this: Oh, look at this oddity. And basically, the virtue of that is that women are really thorough, I, guess. so it's a very detailed book. And the reviewer writes, no one is better fitted than a woman to collect data such as this book contains. So there's no okay, this is very useful.Carol Sutton Lewis: PatronizeCarl Zimmer: Yeah. Thank you very much. Reviewers were just skating over the conclusions that they were drawing, I guess because they were women. Yeah, pretty incredible.Carol Sutton Lewis: So she is the first to submit scientific proof about this potential for airborne transmission. And that was pretty much dismissed. It wasn't even actively dismissed.It was just, nah, these women, nothing's coming outta that, except William did pay attention. I believe he too had been thinking about airborne transmission for some time and then started seriously looking at Mildred's conclusion when he started teaching at Harvard.Carl Zimmer: Yeah. So, William gets a job as a low level instructor at Harvard. He's getting paid very little. Mildred has no income. He's teaching about hygiene and sanitation, but apparently he's a terrible teacher. But he is a clever, brilliant engineer and scientist; he very quickly develops an idea that probably originated in the work that Mildred had been doing on polio. that maybe diseases actually can spread long distances through the air. So there are large droplets that we might sneeze out and cough out and, and they go a short distance before gravity pulls them down. But physics dictates that below a certain size, droplets can resist gravity.This is something that's going totally against what all the, the really prominent public health figures are saying. William Wells doesn't care. He goes ahead and he starts to, invent a way to sample air for germs. Basically it's a centrifuge. You plug it in, the fan spins, it sucks in air, the air comes up inside a glass cylinder and then as it's spinning, if there are any droplets of particles or anything floating in the air, they get flung out to the sideS.And so afterwards you just pull out the glass which is coated with, food for microbes to grow on and you put it in a nice warm place. And If there's anything in the air, you'll be able to grow a colony and see it.Carol Sutton Lewis: Amazing.Carl Zimmer: It is amazing. This, this was a crucial inventionCarol Sutton Lewis: So we have William, who is with Mildred's help moving more towards the possibility of airborne infection, understanding that this is very much not where science is at the moment, and he conducts a really interesting experiment in one of his classrooms to try to move the theory forward. We'll talk more about that experiment when we come back after the break.MidrollCarol Sutton Lewis: Welcome back to Lost Women of Science Conversations. We left off as the Wellses were about to conduct an experiment to test their theories about airborne infections. Carl, can you tell us about that experiment?Carl Zimmer: Okay. it's 1934, It's a cold day. Students come in for a lecture from this terrible teacher, William Wells. The windows are closed. The doors are closed. It's a poorly ventilated room. About 20 minutes before the end of the class, he takes this weird device that's next to him, he plugs it into the wall, and then he just goes back and keeps lecturing.It's not clear whether he even told them what he was doing. But, he then takes this little pinch of sneezing powder. out of a jar and holds it in the sort of outflow from the fan inside the air centrifuge. So all of a sudden, poof, the sneezing powder just goes off into the air. You know, there are probably about a couple dozen students scattered around this lecture hall and after a while they start to sneeze. And in fact, people All the way in theback are sneezing too.So now Wells turns off his machine, puts in a new cylinder, turns it on, keeps talking. The thing is that they are actually sneezing out droplets into the air.And some of those droplets contain harmless bacteria from their mouths. And he harvests them from the air. He actually collects them in his centrifuge. And after a few days, he's got colonies of these bacteria, but only after he had released the sneezing powder, the one before that didn't have any.So, you have this demonstration that William Wells could catch germs in the air that had been released from his students at quite a distance away, And other people can inhale them, and not even realize what's happening. In other words, germs were spreading like smoke. And so this becomes an explanation for what Mildred had been seeing in her epidemiology..Carol Sutton Lewis: Wow. That was pretty revolutionary. But how was it received?Carl Zimmer: Well, you know, At first it was received, With great fanfare, and he starts publishing papers in nineteen thirty he and Mildred are coauthors on these. And, Mildred is actually appointed as a research associate at Harvard, in nineteen thirty it's a nice title, but she doesn't get paid anything. And then William makes another discovery, which is also very important.He's thinking okay, if these things are floating in the air, is there a way that I can disinfect the air? And he tries all sorts of things and he discovers ultraviolet light works really well. In fact, you can just put an ultraviolet light in a room and the droplets will circulate around and as they pass through the ultraviolet rays, it kills the bacteria or viruses inside of them. So in 1936, when he's publishing these results, there are so many headlines in newspapers and magazines and stuff about this discovery.There's one headline that says, scientists fight flu germs with violet ray. And, there are these predictions that, we are going to be safe from these terrible diseases. Like for example, influenza, which had just, devastated the world not long beforehand, because you're going to put ultraviolet lights in trains and schools and trolleys and movie theaters.Carol Sutton Lewis: Did Mildred get any public recognition for her contributions to all of this?Carl Zimmer: Well not surprisingly, William gets the lion's share of the attention. I mean, there's a passing reference to Mildred in one article. The Associated Press says chief among his aides, Wells said, was his wife, Dr. Mildred Wells. So, William was perfectly comfortable, acknowledging her, but the reporters. Didn't care,Carol Sutton Lewis: And there were no pictures of herCarl Zimmer: Right. Mildred wasn't the engineer in that couple, but she was doing all the research on epidemiology. And you can tell from comments that people made about, and Mildred Wells is that. William would be nowhere as a scientist without Mildred. She was the one who kept him from jumping ahead to wild conclusions from the data he had so far. So they were, they're very much a team. She was doing the writing and they were collaborating, they were arguing with each other all the time about it And she was a much better writer than he was., but that wasn't suitable for a picture, so she was invisible.Carol Sutton Lewis: In the book, you write a lot about their difficult personalities and how that impacted their reputations within the wider scientific community. Can you say more about that?Carl Zimmer: Right. They really had a reputation as being really hard to deal with. People would politely call them peculiar. And when they weren't being quite so polite, they would talk about all these arguments that they would get in, shouting matches and so on. They really felt that they had discovered something incredibly important, but they were outsiders, you know, they didn't have PhDs, they didn't have really much formal training. And here they were saying that, you know, the consensus about infectious disease is profoundly wrong.Now, ironically, what happened is that once William Wells showed that ultraviolet light could kill germs, his superior at Harvard abruptly took an intense interest in all of this and said, Okay, you're going to share a patent on this with me. My name's going to be on the patent and all the research from now on is going to happen in my lab. I'm going to have complete control over what happens next. And Mildred took the lead saying no way we want total autonomy, get out of our face. She was much more aggressive in university politics, and sort of protecting their turf. And unfortunately they didn't have many allies at Harvard and pretty soon they were out, they were fired. And William Wells and his boss, Gordon Fair, were both named on a patent that was filed for using ultraviolet lamps to disinfect the air.Carol Sutton Lewis: So what happened when they left Harvard?Carl Zimmer: Well, it's really interesting watching them scrambling to find work, because their reputation had preceded them. They were hoping they could go back to Washington DC to the public health service. But, the story about the Wells was that Mildred, was carrying out a lot of the research, and so they thought, we can't hire William if it's his wife, who's quietly doing a lot of the work, like they, for some reason they didn't think, oh, we could hire them both.Carol Sutton Lewis: Or just her.Carl Zimmer: None of that, they were like, do we hire William Wells? His wife apparently hauls a lot of the weight. So no, we won't hire them. It's literally like written down. It’s, I'm not making it up. And fortunately they had a few defenders, a few champions down in Philadelphia.There was a doctor in Philadelphia who was using ultraviolet light to protect children in hospitals. And he was, really, inspired by the Wellses and he knew they were trouble. He wrote yes, I get it. They're difficult, but let's try to get them here.And so they brought them down to Philadelphia and Mildred. And William, opened up the laboratories for airborne infection at the University of Pennsylvania. And now actually Mildred got paid, for the first time, for this work. So they're both getting paid, things are starting to look betterCarol Sutton Lewis: So they start to do amazing work at the University of Pennsylvania.Carl Zimmer: That's right. That's right. William, takes the next step in proving their theory. He figures out how to actually give animals diseases through the air. He builds a machine that gets to be known as the infection machine. a big bell jar, and you can put mice in there, or a rabbit in there, and there's a tube connected to it.And through that tube, William can create a very fine mist that might have influenza viruses in it, or the bacteria that cause tuberculosis. And the animals just sit there and breathe, and lo and behold, They get tuberculosis, they get influenza, they get all these diseases,Now, meanwhile, Mildred is actually spending a lot of her time at a school nearby the Germantown Friends School, where they have installed ultraviolet lamps in some of the classrooms. And they're convinced that they can protect kids from airborne diseases. The biggest demonstration of what these lamps can do comes in 1940, because there's a huge epidemic of measles. In 1940, there's, no vaccine for measles. Every kid basically gets it.And lo and behold, the kids in the classrooms with the ultraviolet lamps are 10 times less likely to get measles than the kids just down the hall in the regular classrooms. And so this is one of the best experiments ever done on the nature of airborne infection and how you can protect people by disinfecting the air.Carol Sutton Lewis: Were they then finally accepted into the scientific community?Carl Zimmer: I know you keep waiting for that, that victory lap, but no. It's just like time and again, that glory gets snatched away from them. Again, this was not anything that was done in secret. Newspapers around Philadelphia were. Celebrating this wow, look at this, look at how we can protect our children from disease. This is fantastic. But other experts, public health authorities just were not budging. they had all taken in this dogma that the air can't be dangerous.And so again and again, they were hitting a brick wall. This is right on the eve of World War II.And so all sorts of scientists in World War II are asking themselves, what can we do? Mildred and William put themselves forward and say we don't want soldiers to get sick with the flu the way they did in World War I. They're both haunted by this and they're thinking, so we could put our ultraviolet lamps in the barracks, we could protect them. Soldiers from the flu, if the flu is airborne, like we think, not only that, but this could help to really convince all those skepticsCarol Sutton Lewis: mm.Carl Zimmer: But they failed. The army put all their money into other experiments, they were blackballed, they were shut out, and again, I think it was just because they were continuing to be just incredibly difficult. Even patrons and their friends would just sigh to each other, like, Oh my God, I've just had to deal with these, with them arguing with us and yelling at us. And by the end of World War II, things are bad, they have some sort of split up, they never get divorced, but it's just too much. Mildred, like she is not only trying to do this pioneering work in these schools, trying to keep William's labs organized, there's the matter of their son. Now looking at some documents, I would hazard a guess that he had schizophrenia because he was examined by a doctor who came to that conclusion.And so, she's under incredible pressure and eventually she cracks and in 1944 she resigns from the lab. She stops working in the schools, she stops collaborating with her husband, but she keeps doing her own science. And that's really amazing to me. What kinds of things did she do after this breakup? What kind of work did she conduct? And how was that received?Mildred goes on on her own to carry out a gigantic experiment, in hindsight, a really visionary piece of work. It's based on her experience in Philadelphia. Because she could see that the ultraviolet lamps worked very well at protecting children during a really intense measles epidemic. And so she thought to herself, if you want to really make ultraviolet light, and the theory of airborne infection live up to its true potential to protect people. You need to protect the air in a lot more places.So she gets introduced to the health commissioner in Westchester County, this is a county just north of New York City. And she pitches him this idea. She says, I want to go into one of your towns and I want to put ultraviolet lights everywhere. And this guy, William Holla, he is a very bold, flamboyant guy. He's the right guy to ask. He's like, yeah, let's do this. And he leaves it up to her to design the experiment.And so this town Pleasantville in New York gets fitted out with ultraviolet lamps in the train station, in the fountain shops, in the movie theater, in churches, all over the place. And she publishes a paper with Holla in 1950 on the results.The results are mixed though. You look carefully at them, you can see that actually, yeah, the lamps worked in certain respects. So certain diseases, the rates were lower in certain places, but sadly, this incredibly ambitious study really didn't move the needle. And yeah, it was a big disappointment and that was the last science that Mildred did.Carol Sutton Lewis: Even when they were working together, Mildred and William never really succeeded in convincing the scientific community to take airborne infection seriously, although their work obviously did move the science forward. So what did sway scientific opinion and when?Carl Zimmer: Yeah, Mildred dies in 1957. William dies in 1963. After the Wellses are dead, their work is dismissed and they themselves are quite forgotten. It really isn't until the early 2000s that a few people rediscover them.The SARS epidemic kicks up in 2003, for example, and I talked to a scientist in Hong Kong named Yuguo Li, and he was trying to understand how was this new disease spreading around? He's looking around and he finds references to papers by William Wells and Mildred Wells. He has no idea who they are and he sees that William Wells had published a book in 1955 and he's like, well, okay, maybe I need to go read the book.Nobody has the book. And the only place that he could find it was in one university in the United States. They photocopied it and shipped it to him in Hong Kong and he finally starts reading it. And it's really hard to read because again William was a terrible writer, unlike Mildred. But after a while it clicks and he's like, oh. That's it. I got it. But again, all the guidelines for controlling pandemics and diseases do not really give much serious attention to airborne infection except for just a couple diseases. And it's not until the COVID pandemic that things finally change.Carol Sutton Lewis: Wow. If we had listened to Mildred and William earlier, what might have been different?Carl Zimmer: Yeah, I do try to imagine a world in which Mildred and William had been taken seriously by more people. If airborne infection was just a seriously recognized thing at the start of the COVID pandemic, we would have been controlling the disease differently from the start. We wouldn't have been wiping down our shopping bags obsessively. People would have been encouraged to open the windows, people would have been encouraged to get air purifiers, ultraviolet lamps might have been installed in places with poor ventilation, masks might not have been so controversial.And instead these intellectual grandchildren of William and Mildred Wells had to reinvent the wheel. They had to do new studies to persuade people finally that a disease could be airborne. And it took a long time. It took months to finally move the needle.Carol Sutton Lewis: Carl, what do you hope people will take away from Mildred's story, which you have so wonderfully detailed in your book, rendering her no longer a lost woman of science? And what do you hope people will take away from the book more broadly?Carl Zimmer: I think sometimes that we imagine that science just marches on smoothly and effortlessly. But science is a human endeavor in all the good ways and in all the not-so-good ways. Science does have a fair amount of tragedy throughout it, as any human endeavor does. I'm sad about what happened to the Wells by the end of their lives, both of them. But in some ways, things are better now.When I'm writing about aerobiology in the early, mid, even late—except for Mildred, it's pretty much all men. But who were the people during the COVID pandemic who led the fight to get recognized as airborne? People like Linsey Marr at Virginia Tech, Kim Prather at University of California, San Diego, Lidia Morawska, an Australian researcher. Now, all women in science still have to contend with all sorts of sexism and sort of baked-in inequalities. But it is striking to me that when you get to the end of the book, the women show up.Carol Sutton Lewis: Well,Carl Zimmer: And they show up in force.Carol Sutton Lewis: And on that very positive note to end on, Carl, thank you so much, first and foremost, for writing this really fascinating book and within it, highlighting a now no longer lost woman of science, Mildred Weeks Wells. Your book is Airborne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe, and it's been a pleasure to speak with—Carl Zimmer: Thanks a lot. I really enjoyed talking about Mildred.Carol Sutton Lewis: This has been Lost Women of Science Conversations. Carl Zimmer's book Airborne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe is out now. This episode was hosted by me, Carol Sutton Lewis. Our producer was Luca Evans, and Hansdale Hsu was our sound engineer. Special thanks to our senior managing producer, Deborah Unger, our program manager, Eowyn Burtner, and our co-executive producers, Katie Hafner and Amy Scharf.Thanks also to Jeff DelViscio and our publishing partner, Scientific American. The episode art was created by Lily Whear and Lizzie Younan composes our music. Lost Women of Science is funded in part by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation and the Anne Wojcicki Foundation. We're distributed by PRX.If you've enjoyed this conversation, go to our website lostwomenofscience.org and subscribe so you'll never miss an episode—that's lostwomenofscience.org. And please share it and give us a rating wherever you listen to podcasts. Oh, and please don't forget to click on the donate button—that helps us bring you even more stories of important female scientists.I'm Carol Sutton Lewis. See you next time.HostCarol Sutton LewisProducerLuca EvansGuest Carl ZimmerCarl Zimmer writes the Origins column for the New York Times and has frequently contributed to The Atlantic, National Geographic, Time, and Scientific American. His journalism has earned numerous awards, including ones from the American Association for the Advancement of Science and the National Academies of Sciences, Medicine, and Engineering. He is the author of fourteen books about science, including Life's Edge.Further Reading:Air-Borne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe. Carl Zimmer. Dutton, 2025Poliomyelitis. International Committee for the Study of Infantile Paralysis. Williams & Wilkins Company, 1932 “Air-borne Infection,” by William Firth Wells and Mildred Weeks Wells, in JAMA, Vol. 107, No. 21; November 21, 1936“Air-borne Infection: Sanitary Control,” by William Firth Wells and Mildred Weeks Wells, in JAMA, Vol. 107, No. 22; November 28, 1936“Ventilation in the Spread of Chickenpox and Measles within School Rooms,” by Mildred Weeks Wells, in JAMA, Vol. 129, No. 3; September 15, 1945“The 60-Year-Old Scientific Screwup That Helped Covid Kill,” by Megan Molteni, in Wired. Published online May 13, 2021WATCH THIS NEXTScience journalist Carl Zimmer joins host Rachel Feltman to look back at the history of the field, from ancient Greek “miasmas” to Louis Pasteur’s unorthodox experiments to biological warfare.
    #public #health #researcher #her #engineer
    A Public Health Researcher and Her Engineer Husband Found How Diseases Can Spread through Air Decades before the COVID Pandemic
    May 21, 202522 min readMildred Weeks Wells’s Work on Airborne Transmission Could Have Saved Many Lives—If the Scientific Establishment ListenedMildred Weeks Wells and her husband figured out that disease-causing pathogens can spread through the air like smoke Dutton; Lily WhearAir-Borne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe, by Carl Zimmer, charts the history of the field of aerobiology: the science of airborne microorganisms. In this episode, we discover the story of two lost pioneers of the 1930s: physician and self-taught epidemiologist Mildred Weeks Wells and her husband, sanitary engineer William Firth Wells. Together, they proved that infectious pathogens could spread through the air over long distances. But the two had a reputation as outsiders, and they failed to convince the scientific establishment, who ignored their findings for decades. What the pair figured out could have saved many lives from tuberculosis, SARS, COVID and other airborne diseases. The contributions of Mildred Weeks Wells and her husband were all but erased from history—until now.LISTEN TO THE PODCASTOn supporting science journalismIf you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.TRANSCRIPTCarl Zimmer: Mildred is hired in the late 1920s to put together everything that was known about polio. And she does this incredible study, where she basically looks for everything that she can find about how polio spreads.At the time, the idea that it could spread through the air was really looked at as being just an obsolete superstition. Public health experts would say, look, a patient's breath is basically harmless. But the epidemiology looks to her like these germs are airborne, and this goes totally against the consensus at the time.Carol Sutton Lewis: Hello, I'm Carol Sutton Lewis. Welcome to the latest episode of Lost Women of Science Conversations, where we talk with authors and artists who've discovered and celebrated female scientists in books, poetry, film, and the visual arts.Today I'm joined by Carl Zimmer, an award-winning New York Times columnist and the author of 15 books about science. His latest book, Airborne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe, focuses on the last great biological frontier: the air. It presents the history of aerobiology, which is the science dealing with the occurrence, transportation, and effects of airborne microorganisms.The book chronicles the exploits of committed aerobiologists from the early pioneers through to the present day. Among these pioneers were Mildred Weeks Wells and her husband, William Firth Wells.Airborne tells the story of how Mildred and William tried to sound the alarm about airborne infections, but for many reasons, their warnings went unheard.Welcome, Carl Zimmer. It's such a pleasure to have you with us to tell us all about this fascinating woman and her contributions to science.Can you please tell us about Mildred Weeks Wells—where and how she grew up and what led her to the field of aerobiology?Carl Zimmer: She was born in 1891, and she came from a very prominent Texas family—the Denton family. Her great-grandfather is actually whom the city of Denton, Texas is named after. Her grandfather was a surgeon for the Confederate Army in the Civil War, and he becomes the director of what was called then the State Lunatic Asylum.And he and the bookkeeper there, William Weeks, are both charged with embezzlement. It's a big scandal. The bookkeeper then marries Mildred's mother. Then, shortly after Mildred's born, her father disappears. Her mother basically abandons her with her grandmother. And she grows up with her sister and grandmother in Austin, Texas. A comfortable life, but obviously there's a lot of scandal hanging over them.She is clearly incredibly strong-willed. She goes to medical school at the University of Texas and graduates in 1915, one of three women in a class of 34. That is really something for a woman at that point—there were hardly any women with medical degrees in the United States, let alone someone in Texas.But she books out of there. She does not stick around. She heads in 1915 to Washington, D.C., and works at the Public Health Service in a lab called the Hygienic Laboratory. Basically, what they're doing is studying bacteria. You have to remember, this is the golden age of the germ theory of disease. People have been figuring out that particular bacteria or viruses cause particular diseases, and that knowledge is helping them fight those diseases.It's there in Washington at this time that she meets a man who will become her husband, William Firth Wells.Carol Sutton Lewis: Just a quick aside—because we at Lost Women of Science are always interested in how you discover the material in addition to what you've discovered. How were you able to piece together her story? What sources were you able to find? It seems like there wasn't a lot of information available.Carl Zimmer: Yeah, it was a tough process. There is little information that's really easy to get your hands on. I mean, there is no biography of Mildred Wells or her husband, William Firth Wells.At the Rockefeller archives, they had maybe 30 document boxes full of stuff that was just miraculously conserved there. There are also letters that she wrote to people that have been saved in various collections.But especially with her early years, it's really tough. You know, in all my work trying to dig down for every single scrap of information I could find of her, I have only found one photograph of her—and it's the photograph in her yearbook. That’s it.Carol Sutton Lewis: You talked about that photograph in the book, and I was struck by your description of it. You say that she's smiling, but the longer you look at her smile, the sadder it becomes. What do you think at that young age was the source of the sadness?Carl Zimmer: I think that Mildred grew up with a lot of trauma. She was not the sort of person to keep long journals or write long letters about these sorts of things. But when you've come across those clues in these brief little newspaper accounts, you can kind of read between the lines.There are reports in newspapers saying that Mildred's mother had come to Austin to pay a visit to Mildred because she had scarlet fever when she was 10, and then she goes away again. And when I look at her face in her yearbook, it doesn't surprise me that there is this cast of melancholy to it because you just think about what she had gone through just as a kid.Carol Sutton Lewis: Oh. Absolutely. And fast forward, she meets William and they marry. They have a son, and they start collaborating. How did that begin?Carl Zimmer: The collaboration takes a while. So William Wells is also working at the Public Health Service at the time. He is a few years older than Mildred and he has been trained at MIT as what was called then a sanitarian. In other words, he was going to take the germ theory of disease and was going to save people's lives.He was very clever. He could invent tests that a sanitarian could use, dip a little tube into a river and see whether the water was safe or not, things like that. He was particularly focused on keeping water clean of bacteria that could cause diseases like typhoid or cholera and he also, gets assigned by the government to study oysters because oysters, they sit in this water and they're filtering all day long. And you know, if there's bacteria in there, they're going to filter it and trap it in their tissues. And oysters are incredibly popular in the early nineteen hundreds and a shocking number of people are keeling over dying of typhoid because they're eating them raw. So William is very busy, figuring out ways to save the oyster industry. How do we purify oysters and things like that? They meet, they get married in 1917.In 1918 they have a child, William Jr. nicknamed Bud. But William is not around for the birth, because he is drafted into the army, and he goes off to serve. in World War I.Carol Sutton Lewis: So Mildred is at home with Bud and William's off at the war. But ultimately, Mildred returns to science. A few years later, where she is hired as a polio detective. Can you tell me a little bit about what the state of polio knowledge was at the time and what precisely a polio detective did?Carl Zimmer: It doesn't seem like polio really was a thing in the United States until the late 1800s. And then suddenly there's this mysterious disease that can strike children with no warning. These kids can't. walk, or suddenly these kids are dying. Not only are the symptoms completely terrifying to parents, but how it spreads is a complete mystery. And so Mildred, seems to have been hired at some point in the late 1920s To basically put together everything that was known about polio to help doctors to deal with their patients and to, you know, encourage future science to try to figure out what is this disease.You know, Mildred wasn't trained in epidemiology. So it's kind of remarkable that she taught herself. And she would turn out to be a really great epidemiologist. But, in any case, She gets hired by the International Committee for the Study of Infantile Paralysis, that was the name then for polio. And she does this incredible study, where she basically looks for everything that she can find about how polio spreads. Case studies where, in a town, like this child got polio, then this child did, and did they have contact and what sort of contact, what season was it? What was the weather like? All these different factors.And one thing that's really important to bear in mind is that, at this time, the prevailing view was that diseases spread by water, by food, by sex, by close contact. Maybe like someone just coughs and sprays droplets on you, but otherwise it's these other routes.The idea that it could spread through the air was really looked at as being just obsolete superstition. for thousands of years, people talked about miasmas, somehow the air mysteriously became corrupted and that made people sick with different diseases. That was all thrown out in the late 1800s, early 1900s when germ theory really takes hold. And so public health experts would say, look, a patient's breath is basically harmless.Carol Sutton Lewis: But Mildred doesn't agree, does she?Carl Zimmer: Well, Mildred Wells is looking at all of this, data and she is starting to get an idea that maybe these public health experts have been too quick to dismiss the air. So when people are talking about droplet infections in the 1920s, they're basically just talking about, big droplets that someone might just sneeze in your face. But the epidemiology looks to her like these germs are airborne, are spreading long distances through the air.So Mildred is starting to make a distinction in her mind about what she calls airborne and droplet infections. So, and this is really the time that the Wellses collectively are thinking about airborne infection and it's Mildred is doing it. And William actually gives her credit for this later on.Carol Sutton Lewis: Right. and her results are published in a book about polio written entirely by female authors, which is quite unusual for the time.Carl Zimmer: Mm hmm. Right. The book is published in 1932, and the reception just tells you so much about what it was like to be a woman in science. The New England Journal of Medicine reviews the book, which is great. But, here's a line that they give, they say, it is interesting to note that this book is entirely the product of women in medicine and is the first book.So far as a reviewer knows. by a number of authors, all of whom are of the female sex. So it's this: Oh, look at this oddity. And basically, the virtue of that is that women are really thorough, I, guess. so it's a very detailed book. And the reviewer writes, no one is better fitted than a woman to collect data such as this book contains. So there's no okay, this is very useful.Carol Sutton Lewis: PatronizeCarl Zimmer: Yeah. Thank you very much. Reviewers were just skating over the conclusions that they were drawing, I guess because they were women. Yeah, pretty incredible.Carol Sutton Lewis: So she is the first to submit scientific proof about this potential for airborne transmission. And that was pretty much dismissed. It wasn't even actively dismissed.It was just, nah, these women, nothing's coming outta that, except William did pay attention. I believe he too had been thinking about airborne transmission for some time and then started seriously looking at Mildred's conclusion when he started teaching at Harvard.Carl Zimmer: Yeah. So, William gets a job as a low level instructor at Harvard. He's getting paid very little. Mildred has no income. He's teaching about hygiene and sanitation, but apparently he's a terrible teacher. But he is a clever, brilliant engineer and scientist; he very quickly develops an idea that probably originated in the work that Mildred had been doing on polio. that maybe diseases actually can spread long distances through the air. So there are large droplets that we might sneeze out and cough out and, and they go a short distance before gravity pulls them down. But physics dictates that below a certain size, droplets can resist gravity.This is something that's going totally against what all the, the really prominent public health figures are saying. William Wells doesn't care. He goes ahead and he starts to, invent a way to sample air for germs. Basically it's a centrifuge. You plug it in, the fan spins, it sucks in air, the air comes up inside a glass cylinder and then as it's spinning, if there are any droplets of particles or anything floating in the air, they get flung out to the sideS.And so afterwards you just pull out the glass which is coated with, food for microbes to grow on and you put it in a nice warm place. And If there's anything in the air, you'll be able to grow a colony and see it.Carol Sutton Lewis: Amazing.Carl Zimmer: It is amazing. This, this was a crucial inventionCarol Sutton Lewis: So we have William, who is with Mildred's help moving more towards the possibility of airborne infection, understanding that this is very much not where science is at the moment, and he conducts a really interesting experiment in one of his classrooms to try to move the theory forward. We'll talk more about that experiment when we come back after the break.MidrollCarol Sutton Lewis: Welcome back to Lost Women of Science Conversations. We left off as the Wellses were about to conduct an experiment to test their theories about airborne infections. Carl, can you tell us about that experiment?Carl Zimmer: Okay. it's 1934, It's a cold day. Students come in for a lecture from this terrible teacher, William Wells. The windows are closed. The doors are closed. It's a poorly ventilated room. About 20 minutes before the end of the class, he takes this weird device that's next to him, he plugs it into the wall, and then he just goes back and keeps lecturing.It's not clear whether he even told them what he was doing. But, he then takes this little pinch of sneezing powder. out of a jar and holds it in the sort of outflow from the fan inside the air centrifuge. So all of a sudden, poof, the sneezing powder just goes off into the air. You know, there are probably about a couple dozen students scattered around this lecture hall and after a while they start to sneeze. And in fact, people All the way in theback are sneezing too.So now Wells turns off his machine, puts in a new cylinder, turns it on, keeps talking. The thing is that they are actually sneezing out droplets into the air.And some of those droplets contain harmless bacteria from their mouths. And he harvests them from the air. He actually collects them in his centrifuge. And after a few days, he's got colonies of these bacteria, but only after he had released the sneezing powder, the one before that didn't have any.So, you have this demonstration that William Wells could catch germs in the air that had been released from his students at quite a distance away, And other people can inhale them, and not even realize what's happening. In other words, germs were spreading like smoke. And so this becomes an explanation for what Mildred had been seeing in her epidemiology..Carol Sutton Lewis: Wow. That was pretty revolutionary. But how was it received?Carl Zimmer: Well, you know, At first it was received, With great fanfare, and he starts publishing papers in nineteen thirty he and Mildred are coauthors on these. And, Mildred is actually appointed as a research associate at Harvard, in nineteen thirty it's a nice title, but she doesn't get paid anything. And then William makes another discovery, which is also very important.He's thinking okay, if these things are floating in the air, is there a way that I can disinfect the air? And he tries all sorts of things and he discovers ultraviolet light works really well. In fact, you can just put an ultraviolet light in a room and the droplets will circulate around and as they pass through the ultraviolet rays, it kills the bacteria or viruses inside of them. So in 1936, when he's publishing these results, there are so many headlines in newspapers and magazines and stuff about this discovery.There's one headline that says, scientists fight flu germs with violet ray. And, there are these predictions that, we are going to be safe from these terrible diseases. Like for example, influenza, which had just, devastated the world not long beforehand, because you're going to put ultraviolet lights in trains and schools and trolleys and movie theaters.Carol Sutton Lewis: Did Mildred get any public recognition for her contributions to all of this?Carl Zimmer: Well not surprisingly, William gets the lion's share of the attention. I mean, there's a passing reference to Mildred in one article. The Associated Press says chief among his aides, Wells said, was his wife, Dr. Mildred Wells. So, William was perfectly comfortable, acknowledging her, but the reporters. Didn't care,Carol Sutton Lewis: And there were no pictures of herCarl Zimmer: Right. Mildred wasn't the engineer in that couple, but she was doing all the research on epidemiology. And you can tell from comments that people made about, and Mildred Wells is that. William would be nowhere as a scientist without Mildred. She was the one who kept him from jumping ahead to wild conclusions from the data he had so far. So they were, they're very much a team. She was doing the writing and they were collaborating, they were arguing with each other all the time about it And she was a much better writer than he was., but that wasn't suitable for a picture, so she was invisible.Carol Sutton Lewis: In the book, you write a lot about their difficult personalities and how that impacted their reputations within the wider scientific community. Can you say more about that?Carl Zimmer: Right. They really had a reputation as being really hard to deal with. People would politely call them peculiar. And when they weren't being quite so polite, they would talk about all these arguments that they would get in, shouting matches and so on. They really felt that they had discovered something incredibly important, but they were outsiders, you know, they didn't have PhDs, they didn't have really much formal training. And here they were saying that, you know, the consensus about infectious disease is profoundly wrong.Now, ironically, what happened is that once William Wells showed that ultraviolet light could kill germs, his superior at Harvard abruptly took an intense interest in all of this and said, Okay, you're going to share a patent on this with me. My name's going to be on the patent and all the research from now on is going to happen in my lab. I'm going to have complete control over what happens next. And Mildred took the lead saying no way we want total autonomy, get out of our face. She was much more aggressive in university politics, and sort of protecting their turf. And unfortunately they didn't have many allies at Harvard and pretty soon they were out, they were fired. And William Wells and his boss, Gordon Fair, were both named on a patent that was filed for using ultraviolet lamps to disinfect the air.Carol Sutton Lewis: So what happened when they left Harvard?Carl Zimmer: Well, it's really interesting watching them scrambling to find work, because their reputation had preceded them. They were hoping they could go back to Washington DC to the public health service. But, the story about the Wells was that Mildred, was carrying out a lot of the research, and so they thought, we can't hire William if it's his wife, who's quietly doing a lot of the work, like they, for some reason they didn't think, oh, we could hire them both.Carol Sutton Lewis: Or just her.Carl Zimmer: None of that, they were like, do we hire William Wells? His wife apparently hauls a lot of the weight. So no, we won't hire them. It's literally like written down. It’s, I'm not making it up. And fortunately they had a few defenders, a few champions down in Philadelphia.There was a doctor in Philadelphia who was using ultraviolet light to protect children in hospitals. And he was, really, inspired by the Wellses and he knew they were trouble. He wrote yes, I get it. They're difficult, but let's try to get them here.And so they brought them down to Philadelphia and Mildred. And William, opened up the laboratories for airborne infection at the University of Pennsylvania. And now actually Mildred got paid, for the first time, for this work. So they're both getting paid, things are starting to look betterCarol Sutton Lewis: So they start to do amazing work at the University of Pennsylvania.Carl Zimmer: That's right. That's right. William, takes the next step in proving their theory. He figures out how to actually give animals diseases through the air. He builds a machine that gets to be known as the infection machine. a big bell jar, and you can put mice in there, or a rabbit in there, and there's a tube connected to it.And through that tube, William can create a very fine mist that might have influenza viruses in it, or the bacteria that cause tuberculosis. And the animals just sit there and breathe, and lo and behold, They get tuberculosis, they get influenza, they get all these diseases,Now, meanwhile, Mildred is actually spending a lot of her time at a school nearby the Germantown Friends School, where they have installed ultraviolet lamps in some of the classrooms. And they're convinced that they can protect kids from airborne diseases. The biggest demonstration of what these lamps can do comes in 1940, because there's a huge epidemic of measles. In 1940, there's, no vaccine for measles. Every kid basically gets it.And lo and behold, the kids in the classrooms with the ultraviolet lamps are 10 times less likely to get measles than the kids just down the hall in the regular classrooms. And so this is one of the best experiments ever done on the nature of airborne infection and how you can protect people by disinfecting the air.Carol Sutton Lewis: Were they then finally accepted into the scientific community?Carl Zimmer: I know you keep waiting for that, that victory lap, but no. It's just like time and again, that glory gets snatched away from them. Again, this was not anything that was done in secret. Newspapers around Philadelphia were. Celebrating this wow, look at this, look at how we can protect our children from disease. This is fantastic. But other experts, public health authorities just were not budging. they had all taken in this dogma that the air can't be dangerous.And so again and again, they were hitting a brick wall. This is right on the eve of World War II.And so all sorts of scientists in World War II are asking themselves, what can we do? Mildred and William put themselves forward and say we don't want soldiers to get sick with the flu the way they did in World War I. They're both haunted by this and they're thinking, so we could put our ultraviolet lamps in the barracks, we could protect them. Soldiers from the flu, if the flu is airborne, like we think, not only that, but this could help to really convince all those skepticsCarol Sutton Lewis: mm.Carl Zimmer: But they failed. The army put all their money into other experiments, they were blackballed, they were shut out, and again, I think it was just because they were continuing to be just incredibly difficult. Even patrons and their friends would just sigh to each other, like, Oh my God, I've just had to deal with these, with them arguing with us and yelling at us. And by the end of World War II, things are bad, they have some sort of split up, they never get divorced, but it's just too much. Mildred, like she is not only trying to do this pioneering work in these schools, trying to keep William's labs organized, there's the matter of their son. Now looking at some documents, I would hazard a guess that he had schizophrenia because he was examined by a doctor who came to that conclusion.And so, she's under incredible pressure and eventually she cracks and in 1944 she resigns from the lab. She stops working in the schools, she stops collaborating with her husband, but she keeps doing her own science. And that's really amazing to me. What kinds of things did she do after this breakup? What kind of work did she conduct? And how was that received?Mildred goes on on her own to carry out a gigantic experiment, in hindsight, a really visionary piece of work. It's based on her experience in Philadelphia. Because she could see that the ultraviolet lamps worked very well at protecting children during a really intense measles epidemic. And so she thought to herself, if you want to really make ultraviolet light, and the theory of airborne infection live up to its true potential to protect people. You need to protect the air in a lot more places.So she gets introduced to the health commissioner in Westchester County, this is a county just north of New York City. And she pitches him this idea. She says, I want to go into one of your towns and I want to put ultraviolet lights everywhere. And this guy, William Holla, he is a very bold, flamboyant guy. He's the right guy to ask. He's like, yeah, let's do this. And he leaves it up to her to design the experiment.And so this town Pleasantville in New York gets fitted out with ultraviolet lamps in the train station, in the fountain shops, in the movie theater, in churches, all over the place. And she publishes a paper with Holla in 1950 on the results.The results are mixed though. You look carefully at them, you can see that actually, yeah, the lamps worked in certain respects. So certain diseases, the rates were lower in certain places, but sadly, this incredibly ambitious study really didn't move the needle. And yeah, it was a big disappointment and that was the last science that Mildred did.Carol Sutton Lewis: Even when they were working together, Mildred and William never really succeeded in convincing the scientific community to take airborne infection seriously, although their work obviously did move the science forward. So what did sway scientific opinion and when?Carl Zimmer: Yeah, Mildred dies in 1957. William dies in 1963. After the Wellses are dead, their work is dismissed and they themselves are quite forgotten. It really isn't until the early 2000s that a few people rediscover them.The SARS epidemic kicks up in 2003, for example, and I talked to a scientist in Hong Kong named Yuguo Li, and he was trying to understand how was this new disease spreading around? He's looking around and he finds references to papers by William Wells and Mildred Wells. He has no idea who they are and he sees that William Wells had published a book in 1955 and he's like, well, okay, maybe I need to go read the book.Nobody has the book. And the only place that he could find it was in one university in the United States. They photocopied it and shipped it to him in Hong Kong and he finally starts reading it. And it's really hard to read because again William was a terrible writer, unlike Mildred. But after a while it clicks and he's like, oh. That's it. I got it. But again, all the guidelines for controlling pandemics and diseases do not really give much serious attention to airborne infection except for just a couple diseases. And it's not until the COVID pandemic that things finally change.Carol Sutton Lewis: Wow. If we had listened to Mildred and William earlier, what might have been different?Carl Zimmer: Yeah, I do try to imagine a world in which Mildred and William had been taken seriously by more people. If airborne infection was just a seriously recognized thing at the start of the COVID pandemic, we would have been controlling the disease differently from the start. We wouldn't have been wiping down our shopping bags obsessively. People would have been encouraged to open the windows, people would have been encouraged to get air purifiers, ultraviolet lamps might have been installed in places with poor ventilation, masks might not have been so controversial.And instead these intellectual grandchildren of William and Mildred Wells had to reinvent the wheel. They had to do new studies to persuade people finally that a disease could be airborne. And it took a long time. It took months to finally move the needle.Carol Sutton Lewis: Carl, what do you hope people will take away from Mildred's story, which you have so wonderfully detailed in your book, rendering her no longer a lost woman of science? And what do you hope people will take away from the book more broadly?Carl Zimmer: I think sometimes that we imagine that science just marches on smoothly and effortlessly. But science is a human endeavor in all the good ways and in all the not-so-good ways. Science does have a fair amount of tragedy throughout it, as any human endeavor does. I'm sad about what happened to the Wells by the end of their lives, both of them. But in some ways, things are better now.When I'm writing about aerobiology in the early, mid, even late—except for Mildred, it's pretty much all men. But who were the people during the COVID pandemic who led the fight to get recognized as airborne? People like Linsey Marr at Virginia Tech, Kim Prather at University of California, San Diego, Lidia Morawska, an Australian researcher. Now, all women in science still have to contend with all sorts of sexism and sort of baked-in inequalities. But it is striking to me that when you get to the end of the book, the women show up.Carol Sutton Lewis: Well,Carl Zimmer: And they show up in force.Carol Sutton Lewis: And on that very positive note to end on, Carl, thank you so much, first and foremost, for writing this really fascinating book and within it, highlighting a now no longer lost woman of science, Mildred Weeks Wells. Your book is Airborne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe, and it's been a pleasure to speak with—Carl Zimmer: Thanks a lot. I really enjoyed talking about Mildred.Carol Sutton Lewis: This has been Lost Women of Science Conversations. Carl Zimmer's book Airborne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe is out now. This episode was hosted by me, Carol Sutton Lewis. Our producer was Luca Evans, and Hansdale Hsu was our sound engineer. Special thanks to our senior managing producer, Deborah Unger, our program manager, Eowyn Burtner, and our co-executive producers, Katie Hafner and Amy Scharf.Thanks also to Jeff DelViscio and our publishing partner, Scientific American. The episode art was created by Lily Whear and Lizzie Younan composes our music. Lost Women of Science is funded in part by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation and the Anne Wojcicki Foundation. We're distributed by PRX.If you've enjoyed this conversation, go to our website lostwomenofscience.org and subscribe so you'll never miss an episode—that's lostwomenofscience.org. And please share it and give us a rating wherever you listen to podcasts. Oh, and please don't forget to click on the donate button—that helps us bring you even more stories of important female scientists.I'm Carol Sutton Lewis. See you next time.HostCarol Sutton LewisProducerLuca EvansGuest Carl ZimmerCarl Zimmer writes the Origins column for the New York Times and has frequently contributed to The Atlantic, National Geographic, Time, and Scientific American. His journalism has earned numerous awards, including ones from the American Association for the Advancement of Science and the National Academies of Sciences, Medicine, and Engineering. He is the author of fourteen books about science, including Life's Edge.Further Reading:Air-Borne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe. Carl Zimmer. Dutton, 2025Poliomyelitis. International Committee for the Study of Infantile Paralysis. Williams & Wilkins Company, 1932 “Air-borne Infection,” by William Firth Wells and Mildred Weeks Wells, in JAMA, Vol. 107, No. 21; November 21, 1936“Air-borne Infection: Sanitary Control,” by William Firth Wells and Mildred Weeks Wells, in JAMA, Vol. 107, No. 22; November 28, 1936“Ventilation in the Spread of Chickenpox and Measles within School Rooms,” by Mildred Weeks Wells, in JAMA, Vol. 129, No. 3; September 15, 1945“The 60-Year-Old Scientific Screwup That Helped Covid Kill,” by Megan Molteni, in Wired. Published online May 13, 2021WATCH THIS NEXTScience journalist Carl Zimmer joins host Rachel Feltman to look back at the history of the field, from ancient Greek “miasmas” to Louis Pasteur’s unorthodox experiments to biological warfare. #public #health #researcher #her #engineer
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    A Public Health Researcher and Her Engineer Husband Found How Diseases Can Spread through Air Decades before the COVID Pandemic
    May 21, 202522 min readMildred Weeks Wells’s Work on Airborne Transmission Could Have Saved Many Lives—If the Scientific Establishment ListenedMildred Weeks Wells and her husband figured out that disease-causing pathogens can spread through the air like smoke Dutton (image); Lily Whear (composite)Air-Borne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe, by Carl Zimmer, charts the history of the field of aerobiology: the science of airborne microorganisms. In this episode, we discover the story of two lost pioneers of the 1930s: physician and self-taught epidemiologist Mildred Weeks Wells and her husband, sanitary engineer William Firth Wells. Together, they proved that infectious pathogens could spread through the air over long distances. But the two had a reputation as outsiders, and they failed to convince the scientific establishment, who ignored their findings for decades. What the pair figured out could have saved many lives from tuberculosis, SARS, COVID and other airborne diseases. The contributions of Mildred Weeks Wells and her husband were all but erased from history—until now.LISTEN TO THE PODCASTOn supporting science journalismIf you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.TRANSCRIPTCarl Zimmer: Mildred is hired in the late 1920s to put together everything that was known about polio. And she does this incredible study, where she basically looks for everything that she can find about how polio spreads.At the time, the idea that it could spread through the air was really looked at as being just an obsolete superstition. Public health experts would say, look, a patient's breath is basically harmless. But the epidemiology looks to her like these germs are airborne, and this goes totally against the consensus at the time.Carol Sutton Lewis: Hello, I'm Carol Sutton Lewis. Welcome to the latest episode of Lost Women of Science Conversations, where we talk with authors and artists who've discovered and celebrated female scientists in books, poetry, film, and the visual arts.Today I'm joined by Carl Zimmer, an award-winning New York Times columnist and the author of 15 books about science. His latest book, Airborne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe, focuses on the last great biological frontier: the air. It presents the history of aerobiology, which is the science dealing with the occurrence, transportation, and effects of airborne microorganisms.The book chronicles the exploits of committed aerobiologists from the early pioneers through to the present day. Among these pioneers were Mildred Weeks Wells and her husband, William Firth Wells.Airborne tells the story of how Mildred and William tried to sound the alarm about airborne infections, but for many reasons, their warnings went unheard.Welcome, Carl Zimmer. It's such a pleasure to have you with us to tell us all about this fascinating woman and her contributions to science.Can you please tell us about Mildred Weeks Wells—where and how she grew up and what led her to the field of aerobiology?Carl Zimmer: She was born in 1891, and she came from a very prominent Texas family—the Denton family. Her great-grandfather is actually whom the city of Denton, Texas is named after. Her grandfather was a surgeon for the Confederate Army in the Civil War, and he becomes the director of what was called then the State Lunatic Asylum.And he and the bookkeeper there, William Weeks, are both charged with embezzlement. It's a big scandal. The bookkeeper then marries Mildred's mother. Then, shortly after Mildred's born, her father disappears. Her mother basically abandons her with her grandmother. And she grows up with her sister and grandmother in Austin, Texas. A comfortable life, but obviously there's a lot of scandal hanging over them.She is clearly incredibly strong-willed. She goes to medical school at the University of Texas and graduates in 1915, one of three women in a class of 34. That is really something for a woman at that point—there were hardly any women with medical degrees in the United States, let alone someone in Texas.But she books out of there. She does not stick around. She heads in 1915 to Washington, D.C., and works at the Public Health Service in a lab called the Hygienic Laboratory. Basically, what they're doing is studying bacteria. You have to remember, this is the golden age of the germ theory of disease. People have been figuring out that particular bacteria or viruses cause particular diseases, and that knowledge is helping them fight those diseases.It's there in Washington at this time that she meets a man who will become her husband, William Firth Wells.Carol Sutton Lewis: Just a quick aside—because we at Lost Women of Science are always interested in how you discover the material in addition to what you've discovered. How were you able to piece together her story? What sources were you able to find? It seems like there wasn't a lot of information available.Carl Zimmer: Yeah, it was a tough process. There is little information that's really easy to get your hands on. I mean, there is no biography of Mildred Wells or her husband, William Firth Wells.At the Rockefeller archives, they had maybe 30 document boxes full of stuff that was just miraculously conserved there. There are also letters that she wrote to people that have been saved in various collections.But especially with her early years, it's really tough. You know, in all my work trying to dig down for every single scrap of information I could find of her, I have only found one photograph of her—and it's the photograph in her yearbook. That’s it.Carol Sutton Lewis: You talked about that photograph in the book, and I was struck by your description of it. You say that she's smiling, but the longer you look at her smile, the sadder it becomes. What do you think at that young age was the source of the sadness?Carl Zimmer: I think that Mildred grew up with a lot of trauma. She was not the sort of person to keep long journals or write long letters about these sorts of things. But when you've come across those clues in these brief little newspaper accounts, you can kind of read between the lines.There are reports in newspapers saying that Mildred's mother had come to Austin to pay a visit to Mildred because she had scarlet fever when she was 10, and then she goes away again. And when I look at her face in her yearbook, it doesn't surprise me that there is this cast of melancholy to it because you just think about what she had gone through just as a kid.Carol Sutton Lewis: Oh. Absolutely. And fast forward, she meets William and they marry. They have a son, and they start collaborating. How did that begin?Carl Zimmer: The collaboration takes a while. So William Wells is also working at the Public Health Service at the time. He is a few years older than Mildred and he has been trained at MIT as what was called then a sanitarian. In other words, he was going to take the germ theory of disease and was going to save people's lives.He was very clever. He could invent tests that a sanitarian could use, dip a little tube into a river and see whether the water was safe or not, things like that. He was particularly focused on keeping water clean of bacteria that could cause diseases like typhoid or cholera and he also, gets assigned by the government to study oysters because oysters, they sit in this water and they're filtering all day long. And you know, if there's bacteria in there, they're going to filter it and trap it in their tissues. And oysters are incredibly popular in the early nineteen hundreds and a shocking number of people are keeling over dying of typhoid because they're eating them raw. So William is very busy, figuring out ways to save the oyster industry. How do we purify oysters and things like that? They meet, they get married in 1917.In 1918 they have a child, William Jr. nicknamed Bud. But William is not around for the birth, because he is drafted into the army, and he goes off to serve. in World War I.Carol Sutton Lewis: So Mildred is at home with Bud and William's off at the war. But ultimately, Mildred returns to science. A few years later, where she is hired as a polio detective. Can you tell me a little bit about what the state of polio knowledge was at the time and what precisely a polio detective did?Carl Zimmer: It doesn't seem like polio really was a thing in the United States until the late 1800s. And then suddenly there's this mysterious disease that can strike children with no warning. These kids can't. walk, or suddenly these kids are dying. Not only are the symptoms completely terrifying to parents, but how it spreads is a complete mystery. And so Mildred, seems to have been hired at some point in the late 1920s To basically put together everything that was known about polio to help doctors to deal with their patients and to, you know, encourage future science to try to figure out what is this disease.You know, Mildred wasn't trained in epidemiology. So it's kind of remarkable that she taught herself. And she would turn out to be a really great epidemiologist. But, in any case, She gets hired by the International Committee for the Study of Infantile Paralysis, that was the name then for polio. And she does this incredible study, where she basically looks for everything that she can find about how polio spreads. Case studies where, in a town, like this child got polio, then this child did, and did they have contact and what sort of contact, what season was it? What was the weather like? All these different factors.And one thing that's really important to bear in mind is that, at this time, the prevailing view was that diseases spread by water, by food, by sex, by close contact. Maybe like someone just coughs and sprays droplets on you, but otherwise it's these other routes.The idea that it could spread through the air was really looked at as being just obsolete superstition. for thousands of years, people talked about miasmas, somehow the air mysteriously became corrupted and that made people sick with different diseases. That was all thrown out in the late 1800s, early 1900s when germ theory really takes hold. And so public health experts would say, look, a patient's breath is basically harmless.Carol Sutton Lewis: But Mildred doesn't agree, does she?Carl Zimmer: Well, Mildred Wells is looking at all of this, data and she is starting to get an idea that maybe these public health experts have been too quick to dismiss the air. So when people are talking about droplet infections in the 1920s, they're basically just talking about, big droplets that someone might just sneeze in your face. But the epidemiology looks to her like these germs are airborne, are spreading long distances through the air.So Mildred is starting to make a distinction in her mind about what she calls airborne and droplet infections. So, and this is really the time that the Wellses collectively are thinking about airborne infection and it's Mildred is doing it. And William actually gives her credit for this later on.Carol Sutton Lewis: Right. and her results are published in a book about polio written entirely by female authors, which is quite unusual for the time.Carl Zimmer: Mm hmm. Right. The book is published in 1932, and the reception just tells you so much about what it was like to be a woman in science. The New England Journal of Medicine reviews the book, which is great. But, here's a line that they give, they say, it is interesting to note that this book is entirely the product of women in medicine and is the first book.So far as a reviewer knows. by a number of authors, all of whom are of the female sex. So it's this: Oh, look at this oddity. And basically, the virtue of that is that women are really thorough, I, guess. so it's a very detailed book. And the reviewer writes, no one is better fitted than a woman to collect data such as this book contains. So there's no okay, this is very useful.Carol Sutton Lewis: PatronizeCarl Zimmer: Yeah. Thank you very much. Reviewers were just skating over the conclusions that they were drawing, I guess because they were women. Yeah, pretty incredible.Carol Sutton Lewis: So she is the first to submit scientific proof about this potential for airborne transmission. And that was pretty much dismissed. It wasn't even actively dismissed.It was just, nah, these women, nothing's coming outta that, except William did pay attention. I believe he too had been thinking about airborne transmission for some time and then started seriously looking at Mildred's conclusion when he started teaching at Harvard.Carl Zimmer: Yeah. So, William gets a job as a low level instructor at Harvard. He's getting paid very little. Mildred has no income. He's teaching about hygiene and sanitation, but apparently he's a terrible teacher. But he is a clever, brilliant engineer and scientist; he very quickly develops an idea that probably originated in the work that Mildred had been doing on polio. that maybe diseases actually can spread long distances through the air. So there are large droplets that we might sneeze out and cough out and, and they go a short distance before gravity pulls them down. But physics dictates that below a certain size, droplets can resist gravity.This is something that's going totally against what all the, the really prominent public health figures are saying. William Wells doesn't care. He goes ahead and he starts to, invent a way to sample air for germs. Basically it's a centrifuge. You plug it in, the fan spins, it sucks in air, the air comes up inside a glass cylinder and then as it's spinning, if there are any droplets of particles or anything floating in the air, they get flung out to the sideS.And so afterwards you just pull out the glass which is coated with, food for microbes to grow on and you put it in a nice warm place. And If there's anything in the air, you'll be able to grow a colony and see it.Carol Sutton Lewis: Amazing.Carl Zimmer: It is amazing. This, this was a crucial inventionCarol Sutton Lewis: So we have William, who is with Mildred's help moving more towards the possibility of airborne infection, understanding that this is very much not where science is at the moment, and he conducts a really interesting experiment in one of his classrooms to try to move the theory forward. We'll talk more about that experiment when we come back after the break.MidrollCarol Sutton Lewis: Welcome back to Lost Women of Science Conversations. We left off as the Wellses were about to conduct an experiment to test their theories about airborne infections. Carl, can you tell us about that experiment?Carl Zimmer: Okay. it's 1934, It's a cold day. Students come in for a lecture from this terrible teacher, William Wells. The windows are closed. The doors are closed. It's a poorly ventilated room. About 20 minutes before the end of the class, he takes this weird device that's next to him, he plugs it into the wall, and then he just goes back and keeps lecturing.It's not clear whether he even told them what he was doing. But, he then takes this little pinch of sneezing powder. out of a jar and holds it in the sort of outflow from the fan inside the air centrifuge. So all of a sudden, poof, the sneezing powder just goes off into the air. You know, there are probably about a couple dozen students scattered around this lecture hall and after a while they start to sneeze. And in fact, people All the way in the [00:16:00] back are sneezing too.So now Wells turns off his machine, puts in a new cylinder, turns it on, keeps talking. The thing is that they are actually sneezing out droplets into the air.And some of those droplets contain harmless bacteria from their mouths. And he harvests them from the air. He actually collects them in his centrifuge. And after a few days, he's got colonies of these bacteria, but only after he had released the sneezing powder, the one before that didn't have any.So, you have this demonstration that William Wells could catch germs in the air that had been released from his students at quite a distance away, And other people can inhale them, and not even realize what's happening. In other words, germs were spreading like smoke. And so this becomes an explanation for what Mildred had been seeing in her epidemiology..Carol Sutton Lewis: Wow. That was pretty revolutionary. But how was it received?Carl Zimmer: Well, you know, At first it was received, With great fanfare, and he starts publishing papers in nineteen thirty he and Mildred are coauthors on these. And, Mildred is actually appointed as a research associate at Harvard, in nineteen thirty it's a nice title, but she doesn't get paid anything. And then William makes another discovery, which is also very important.He's thinking okay, if these things are floating in the air, is there a way that I can disinfect the air? And he tries all sorts of things and he discovers ultraviolet light works really well. In fact, you can just put an ultraviolet light in a room and the droplets will circulate around and as they pass through the ultraviolet rays, it kills the bacteria or viruses inside of them. So in 1936, when he's publishing these results, there are so many headlines in newspapers and magazines and stuff about this discovery.There's one headline that says, scientists fight flu germs with violet ray. And, there are these predictions that, we are going to be safe from these terrible diseases. Like for example, influenza, which had just, devastated the world not long beforehand, because you're going to put ultraviolet lights in trains and schools and trolleys and movie theaters.Carol Sutton Lewis: Did Mildred get any public recognition for her contributions to all of this?Carl Zimmer: Well not surprisingly, William gets the lion's share of the attention. I mean, there's a passing reference to Mildred in one article. The Associated Press says chief among his aides, Wells said, was his wife, Dr. Mildred Wells. So, William was perfectly comfortable, acknowledging her, but the reporters. Didn't care,Carol Sutton Lewis: And there were no pictures of herCarl Zimmer: Right. Mildred wasn't the engineer in that couple, but she was doing all the research on epidemiology. And you can tell from comments that people made about, and Mildred Wells is that. William would be nowhere as a scientist without Mildred. She was the one who kept him from jumping ahead to wild conclusions from the data he had so far. So they were, they're very much a team. She was doing the writing and they were collaborating, they were arguing with each other all the time about it And she was a much better writer than he was., but that wasn't suitable for a picture, so she was invisible.Carol Sutton Lewis: In the book, you write a lot about their difficult personalities and how that impacted their reputations within the wider scientific community. Can you say more about that?Carl Zimmer: Right. They really had a reputation as being really hard to deal with. People would politely call them peculiar. And when they weren't being quite so polite, they would talk about all these arguments that they would get in, shouting matches and so on. They really felt that they had discovered something incredibly important, but they were outsiders, you know, they didn't have PhDs, they didn't have really much formal training. And here they were saying that, you know, the consensus about infectious disease is profoundly wrong.Now, ironically, what happened is that once William Wells showed that ultraviolet light could kill germs, his superior at Harvard abruptly took an intense interest in all of this and said, Okay, you're going to share a patent on this with me. My name's going to be on the patent and all the research from now on is going to happen in my lab. I'm going to have complete control over what happens next. And Mildred took the lead saying no way we want total autonomy, get out of our face. She was much more aggressive in university politics, and sort of protecting their turf. And unfortunately they didn't have many allies at Harvard and pretty soon they were out, they were fired. And William Wells and his boss, Gordon Fair, were both named on a patent that was filed for using ultraviolet lamps to disinfect the air.Carol Sutton Lewis: So what happened when they left Harvard?Carl Zimmer: Well, it's really interesting watching them scrambling to find work, because their reputation had preceded them. They were hoping they could go back to Washington DC to the public health service. But, the story about the Wells was that Mildred, was carrying out a lot of the research, and so they thought, we can't hire William if it's his wife, who's quietly doing a lot of the work, like they, for some reason they didn't think, oh, we could hire them both.Carol Sutton Lewis: Or just her.Carl Zimmer: None of that, they were like, do we hire William Wells? His wife apparently hauls a lot of the weight. So no, we won't hire them. It's literally like written down. It’s, I'm not making it up. And fortunately they had a few defenders, a few champions down in Philadelphia.There was a doctor in Philadelphia who was using ultraviolet light to protect children in hospitals. And he was, really, inspired by the Wellses and he knew they were trouble. He wrote yes, I get it. They're difficult, but let's try to get them here.And so they brought them down to Philadelphia and Mildred. And William, opened up the laboratories for airborne infection at the University of Pennsylvania. And now actually Mildred got paid, for the first time, for this work. So they're both getting paid, things are starting to look betterCarol Sutton Lewis: So they start to do amazing work at the University of Pennsylvania.Carl Zimmer: That's right. That's right. William, takes the next step in proving their theory. He figures out how to actually give animals diseases through the air. He builds a machine that gets to be known as the infection machine. a big bell jar, and you can put mice in there, or a rabbit in there, and there's a tube connected to it.And through that tube, William can create a very fine mist that might have influenza viruses in it, or the bacteria that cause tuberculosis. And the animals just sit there and breathe, and lo and behold, They get tuberculosis, they get influenza, they get all these diseases,Now, meanwhile, Mildred is actually spending a lot of her time at a school nearby the Germantown Friends School, where they have installed ultraviolet lamps in some of the classrooms. And they're convinced that they can protect kids from airborne diseases. The biggest demonstration of what these lamps can do comes in 1940, because there's a huge epidemic of measles. In 1940, there's, no vaccine for measles. Every kid basically gets it.And lo and behold, the kids in the classrooms with the ultraviolet lamps are 10 times less likely to get measles than the kids just down the hall in the regular classrooms. And so this is one of the best experiments ever done on the nature of airborne infection and how you can protect people by disinfecting the air.Carol Sutton Lewis: Were they then finally accepted into the scientific community?Carl Zimmer: I know you keep waiting for that, that victory lap, but no. It's just like time and again, that glory gets snatched away from them. Again, this was not anything that was done in secret. Newspapers around Philadelphia were. Celebrating this wow, look at this, look at how we can protect our children from disease. This is fantastic. But other experts, public health authorities just were not budging. they had all taken in this dogma that the air can't be dangerous.And so again and again, they were hitting a brick wall. This is right on the eve of World War II.And so all sorts of scientists in World War II are asking themselves, what can we do? Mildred and William put themselves forward and say we don't want soldiers to get sick with the flu the way they did in World War I. They're both haunted by this and they're thinking, so we could put our ultraviolet lamps in the barracks, we could protect them. Soldiers from the flu, if the flu is airborne, like we think, not only that, but this could help to really convince all those skepticsCarol Sutton Lewis: mm.Carl Zimmer: But they failed. The army put all their money into other experiments, they were blackballed, they were shut out, and again, I think it was just because they were continuing to be just incredibly difficult. Even patrons and their friends would just sigh to each other, like, Oh my God, I've just had to deal with these, with them arguing with us and yelling at us. And by the end of World War II, things are bad, they have some sort of split up, they never get divorced, but it's just too much. Mildred, like she is not only trying to do this pioneering work in these schools, trying to keep William's labs organized, there's the matter of their son. Now looking at some documents, I would hazard a guess that he had schizophrenia because he was examined by a doctor who came to that conclusion.And so, she's under incredible pressure and eventually she cracks and in 1944 she resigns from the lab. She stops working in the schools, she stops collaborating with her husband, but she keeps doing her own science. And that's really amazing to me. What kinds of things did she do after this breakup? What kind of work did she conduct? And how was that received?Mildred goes on on her own to carry out a gigantic experiment, in hindsight, a really visionary piece of work. It's based on her experience in Philadelphia. Because she could see that the ultraviolet lamps worked very well at protecting children during a really intense measles epidemic. And so she thought to herself, if you want to really make ultraviolet light, and the theory of airborne infection live up to its true potential to protect people. You need to protect the air in a lot more places.So she gets introduced to the health commissioner in Westchester County, this is a county just north of New York City. And she pitches him this idea. She says, I want to go into one of your towns and I want to put ultraviolet lights everywhere. And this guy, William Holla, he is a very bold, flamboyant guy. He's the right guy to ask. He's like, yeah, let's do this. And he leaves it up to her to design the experiment.And so this town Pleasantville in New York gets fitted out with ultraviolet lamps in the train station, in the fountain shops, in the movie theater, in churches, all over the place. And she publishes a paper with Holla in 1950 on the results.The results are mixed though. You look carefully at them, you can see that actually, yeah, the lamps worked in certain respects. So certain diseases, the rates were lower in certain places, but sadly, this incredibly ambitious study really didn't move the needle. And yeah, it was a big disappointment and that was the last science that Mildred did.Carol Sutton Lewis: Even when they were working together, Mildred and William never really succeeded in convincing the scientific community to take airborne infection seriously, although their work obviously did move the science forward. So what did sway scientific opinion and when?Carl Zimmer: Yeah, Mildred dies in 1957. William dies in 1963. After the Wellses are dead, their work is dismissed and they themselves are quite forgotten. It really isn't until the early 2000s that a few people rediscover them.The SARS epidemic kicks up in 2003, for example, and I talked to a scientist in Hong Kong named Yuguo Li, and he was trying to understand how was this new disease spreading around? He's looking around and he finds references to papers by William Wells and Mildred Wells. He has no idea who they are and he sees that William Wells had published a book in 1955 and he's like, well, okay, maybe I need to go read the book.Nobody has the book. And the only place that he could find it was in one university in the United States. They photocopied it and shipped it to him in Hong Kong and he finally starts reading it. And it's really hard to read because again William was a terrible writer, unlike Mildred. But after a while it clicks and he's like, oh. That's it. I got it. But again, all the guidelines for controlling pandemics and diseases do not really give much serious attention to airborne infection except for just a couple diseases. And it's not until the COVID pandemic that things finally change.Carol Sutton Lewis: Wow. If we had listened to Mildred and William earlier, what might have been different?Carl Zimmer: Yeah, I do try to imagine a world in which Mildred and William had been taken seriously by more people. If airborne infection was just a seriously recognized thing at the start of the COVID pandemic, we would have been controlling the disease differently from the start. We wouldn't have been wiping down our shopping bags obsessively. People would have been encouraged to open the windows, people would have been encouraged to get air purifiers, ultraviolet lamps might have been installed in places with poor ventilation, masks might not have been so controversial.And instead these intellectual grandchildren of William and Mildred Wells had to reinvent the wheel. They had to do new studies to persuade people finally that a disease could be airborne. And it took a long time. It took months to finally move the needle.Carol Sutton Lewis: Carl, what do you hope people will take away from Mildred's story, which you have so wonderfully detailed in your book, rendering her no longer a lost woman of science? And what do you hope people will take away from the book more broadly?Carl Zimmer: I think sometimes that we imagine that science just marches on smoothly and effortlessly. But science is a human endeavor in all the good ways and in all the not-so-good ways. Science does have a fair amount of tragedy throughout it, as any human endeavor does. I'm sad about what happened to the Wells by the end of their lives, both of them. But in some ways, things are better now.When I'm writing about aerobiology in the early, mid, even late—except for Mildred, it's pretty much all men. But who were the people during the COVID pandemic who led the fight to get recognized as airborne? People like Linsey Marr at Virginia Tech, Kim Prather at University of California, San Diego, Lidia Morawska, an Australian researcher. Now, all women in science still have to contend with all sorts of sexism and sort of baked-in inequalities. But it is striking to me that when you get to the end of the book, the women show up.Carol Sutton Lewis: Well,Carl Zimmer: And they show up in force.Carol Sutton Lewis: And on that very positive note to end on, Carl, thank you so much, first and foremost, for writing this really fascinating book and within it, highlighting a now no longer lost woman of science, Mildred Weeks Wells. Your book is Airborne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe, and it's been a pleasure to speak with—Carl Zimmer: Thanks a lot. I really enjoyed talking about Mildred.Carol Sutton Lewis: This has been Lost Women of Science Conversations. Carl Zimmer's book Airborne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe is out now. This episode was hosted by me, Carol Sutton Lewis. Our producer was Luca Evans, and Hansdale Hsu was our sound engineer. Special thanks to our senior managing producer, Deborah Unger, our program manager, Eowyn Burtner, and our co-executive producers, Katie Hafner and Amy Scharf.Thanks also to Jeff DelViscio and our publishing partner, Scientific American. The episode art was created by Lily Whear and Lizzie Younan composes our music. Lost Women of Science is funded in part by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation and the Anne Wojcicki Foundation. We're distributed by PRX.If you've enjoyed this conversation, go to our website lostwomenofscience.org and subscribe so you'll never miss an episode—that's lostwomenofscience.org. And please share it and give us a rating wherever you listen to podcasts. Oh, and please don't forget to click on the donate button—that helps us bring you even more stories of important female scientists.I'm Carol Sutton Lewis. See you next time.HostCarol Sutton LewisProducerLuca EvansGuest Carl ZimmerCarl Zimmer writes the Origins column for the New York Times and has frequently contributed to The Atlantic, National Geographic, Time, and Scientific American. His journalism has earned numerous awards, including ones from the American Association for the Advancement of Science and the National Academies of Sciences, Medicine, and Engineering. He is the author of fourteen books about science, including Life's Edge.Further Reading:Air-Borne: The Hidden History of the Life We Breathe. Carl Zimmer. Dutton, 2025Poliomyelitis. International Committee for the Study of Infantile Paralysis. Williams & Wilkins Company, 1932 “Air-borne Infection,” by William Firth Wells and Mildred Weeks Wells, in JAMA, Vol. 107, No. 21; November 21, 1936“Air-borne Infection: Sanitary Control,” by William Firth Wells and Mildred Weeks Wells, in JAMA, Vol. 107, No. 22; November 28, 1936“Ventilation in the Spread of Chickenpox and Measles within School Rooms,” by Mildred Weeks Wells, in JAMA, Vol. 129, No. 3; September 15, 1945“The 60-Year-Old Scientific Screwup That Helped Covid Kill,” by Megan Molteni, in Wired. Published online May 13, 2021WATCH THIS NEXTScience journalist Carl Zimmer joins host Rachel Feltman to look back at the history of the field, from ancient Greek “miasmas” to Louis Pasteur’s unorthodox experiments to biological warfare.
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  • Julian Rose and András Szántó share notes about interviewing art-focused architects and the future of the museum

    Julian Rose’s Building Cultures, published last year by Princeton Architectural Press, contains 16 in-depth interviews with leading architects who have designed museums around the world. In 2022, András Szántó’s Imagining the Future Museum: 21 Dialogues with Architects, published by Hatje Cantz, offered a complementary glimpse into the sensibilities of a new generation of voices.Rose and Szántó sat down with AN’s executive editor Jack Murphy to discuss the museum’s inexhaustible spatial variety and its capacity to shape civic and cultural space today.

    Julian Rose’s Building Cultures, published last year by Princeton Architectural Press, contains 16 interviews with architects.AN: Julian, what are the major themes, concerns, and anxieties that you heard when interviewing architects about designing museums?
    Julian Rose: The conversations in Building Culture grew out of my time at Artforum, so they began nearly 10 years ago in a pretty different world. In that context, one important theme was looking at the museum to understand how architecture relates to arts. Architects, either by choice or because the culture at large compels them to, are always defining what they do in relation to other cultural practices, especially the visual arts. This relationship goes back to the modernist avant-garde, and you could trace it even further. I was drawn towards architects who had deep connections to art, maybe they had even gone to art school or had a record of collaboration; not coincidentally, a lot of them have become known as museum specialists.
    The answers I heard were refreshing; people were not necessarily learning the lessons I expected. As an example: With Peter Zumthor, I thought we were going to have a focused conversation about the very architectural aesthetics and materials used by certain artists like Richard Serra or Donald Judd. No—he wanted to talk about the bigger picture, the emotional and philosophical connections. He’s obsessed with Walter de Maria’s landscape works like Lightning Field. Even if they don’t seem to have an obvious connection to architecture, he loves the scale and ambition. This kind of surprise happened in several conversations.

    The other key topic is the typological problem of the museum. As I write in my introduction, the museum refuses spatial optimization—there’s no “best” way to design one. In part, that’s because contemporary art is evolving. Look at the popularity of large-scale installations today, which require big open spaces, versus the more old-fashioned idea of a museum being the place you go to have a one-on-one moment with a masterpiece, which needs intimate galleries. Until recently, “public art” was a kind of forlorn category. It was something you might happen on in a park or a subway station, and it was separate from what most people thought of as real art, which of course was what you saw in the museum. And you went to the museum to have what was essentially a private experience of that art. Now you go to the museum to have an experience that’s both aesthetic and social—to look at art and to enjoy a public space—and I think that’s a huge part of why museums are so popular today.
    One of the fundamental takeaways from the book is that contemporary art is becoming more and more public, and the evolution of the art museum has been a crucial part of that shift. Artists are creating work that’s meant to be experienced by many people at once, and they need new spaces to do that. At the same time, all the architects wanted to talk about circulation, because there is a tension on some level between how we traditionally think of experiencing art and the crowds that certain museums are starting to receive.
    András Szántó’s Imagining the Future Museum: 21 Dialogues with Architects also features interviews with leading architects who design museumsAN: András, how does this compare to how you approached your book?
    András Szántó: One reason why the two books are quite complementary is that their genesis is so different. Julian, your book approaches its subjects with an interest in their relationship to art and their creative work. For me, the direction of travel was different. My talks came out of a previous book, which I did during the pandemic, for which I interviewed museum directors about how their institutions are changing. Rather than reviewing past projects, I was interested in the architects’ overall perspective on the museum as a form.
    Generally, there is the idea that architecture saved the visual arts from the fate of other forms of high art. And there has been a post-pandemic realization that you can do highly elitist and exclusive architecture in the language of modern design, just as you can using neoclassical architecture. We see a reckoning for how to realign museums to serve a wider segment of the population, not just the creation of these beautiful confections to attract the wealthy, highly educated cultural tourists of the world, but maybe the ability to send the message to someone who lives two miles away, “This is for you.”
    Venturi, Scott Brown and Associates, Sainsbury Wing, National Gallery, London, U.K., 1991Sainsbury Wing renovation by Selldorf ArchitectsAN: How did you go about selecting the architects you wanted to interview?
    AS: You consign yourself to a lifetime of apologies to people who you didn’t interview. I wanted to be global, so I didn’t stack my book with New York–based architects. I wanted to attempt a gender balance, which was difficult. Again, I think our books work well together, Julian, because you spoke with a lot of people on my dream list.
    JR: I agree that our books are a good pair; it was fun for me to read your book when mine was in progress. I was first educated as an architect, but I’m also coming at this as a historian, so the idea was trying to figure out how we got here: How did museums become so important? I think that the success of both the museum and contemporary art in general is a bit of a surprise to everyone. In this century, we’ve seen so many traditional “highbrow” forms of culture get pushed to the periphery, but museums are thriving.
    I thought about Building Culture as an oral history project. I almost did the opposite of András: I have a couple younger voices, but I wanted to speak with established figures because that generation has shaped the present and has ideas about the future, too. Frank Gehry was one of the first people I interviewed; he’s 96 and he still has important museums under construction. It was interesting to ask Renzo Piano what he thinks is next. People like Frank and Renzo have had plenty of media exposure, but I did feel like there was a certain depth missing from journalistic coverage. I wanted to do a relatively small number of longer conversations and cover the widest historical range I could. I was thrilled to have Denise Scott Brown in there, because the Sainsbury Wingalone is a paradigm-shifting project. She’s part of a whole generation that had a huge impact through postmodern museum designs, although most ofare no longer with us. That felt important to capture.
    Gehry Partners, Guggenheim Museum Bilbao, Spain, 1997AS: We’re discussing the success of contemporary visual art, which for most people feels inscrutable and hard to access. You had an interesting thought experiment: What would the same art have done without the scaffolding of the museum around it? The art museum could have become a dusty, irrelevant thing—and often still is—but through the efforts of a new generation of museum experts, working together with architects, communicators, and other specialists, this form has been lifted up and made super contemporary through, frankly, a lot of the functions that were seen as somewhat secondary.
    This is where the rubber meets the road for architects: So many of the metrics, even the audience metrics, are related to the non-gallery functions of the museum. People flock to the museum as a place, and this is where architecture, landscape architecture, and interior design have been superb. Museums have become civic hubs, which was maybe a secondary concern initially. That’s why people like Piano and Gehry are interesting, because they came up having to work in both worlds. They created this highly successful institutional typology, which still has those art at its core, but it’s the civic infrastructure that is the most successful.
    JR: Museums have always had a civic function, but almost as a secondary part of the program. With an institution like the Centre Pompidou in Paris the civic aspect starts to dominate. Meanwhile, all of these other institutions that used to provide shared social space have largely disappeared, which has an isolating and alienating effect on culture. It’s funny: Civic engagement started out as almost an afterthought, but it has become a crucial function of the museum in the 21st century.
    AS: Another point to make about generations: Do not confuse age with being namby-pamby or conservative. Today’s older architects are people of the 1960s, absolutely. Many, like Elizabeth Diller and David Chipperfield, were more radical then than some of our younger architects are today. They did not necessarily expect to be multimillionaires. They were devoted to the public sphere. These “older” figures who now get giant commissions are, on a DNA level, super radical people.

    JR: Richard Gluckman is another important example. Like Chipperfield, he has a direct connection to modernism through his education. We can talk all day about modernism as a failed project, but the fact is that back when people like Richard and David were in school, architecture was still seen as a fundamental part of the progressive state. Gluckman went to school at Syracuse University in the late 1960s, and as a student he worked for his professors exclusively on projects like housing and university campuses. But by the time he got around to opening his own office, it was 1977. New York had almost gone bankrupt—no one was building that stuff anymore. Gluckman got involved in designing spaces for art, and this was his way of basically sneaking back into the public sphere. I think their generation was connected to a very different—and very powerful—understanding of what architecture meant for society, and you still see that in their work today.
    AS: We can think about the art museum as a scaffolding building around a core enterprise of artistic experience. But this means something different for collecting versus non-collecting institutions. Often, you find institutions places that are dedicating more and more of their space to social functions around the art, contemplative aspects of art, and so on. The best architects are absolutely capable of doing both things: One is creating transparency, porosity, ease of access, and landscape integration in a way that flows, and the other is delivering wonderful amenities like shops and cafes. We can question some old dichotomies: How hard do you have to separate gallery space and social space? How porous could those boundaries be? What everybody profoundly believes is that a successful museum experience must have a magic combination of three things: objects, humans, and architecture. And when those three things come together—incredible real objects with a social experience in the company of other people in a magisterial architectural space—that creates an enduring magic that you cannnot sacrifice.
    Shohei Shigematsu/OMA, rendering of the New Museum of Contemporary Art expansion, New York, New York, anticipated completion 2025JR: It was interesting for me to think about how conservative the museum can be. My conversation with Shohei Shigematsu at OMA put that into relief for me. He was one of the lead architects for the Whitney Museum extension proposal. At the time, OMA’s whole thing was reinventing typologies for the 21st century—think CCTV twisting the skyscraper, or Seattle transforming the public library. They took that aggressive critical method to the museum too—in the 1990s for MoMA and the Tate Modern, and then to the Whitney in 2001, and didn’t win a single competition. The establishment was not interested!
    AS: I agree that architects are often more radical than their clients. Hopefully nobody misunderstands this, but there is often a profound disconnect between the veneration of rule-breaking, iconoclastic innovation in the gallery versus the conservatism of the museum organization. Organizationally speaking, most museums have not read an airport book on modern management. I see architects trying to push against that. An easy example: Why do these buildings still look like fortresses? Libraries have been redesigned to work for people while still accommodating books. All too often, art museums still feel like citadels with lots of walls. Why? Because walls are great for hanging art on the inside of the building. Is that really the singular goal?

    AN: How does the scale of the institution shape what it can do?
    AS: We have certainly seen the emergence of a lot of small institutes and institutions, because of the enormous expansion of private museums. I do think small scale is good. When you ask most people about their favorite museums, they will frequently mention places that are quite intimate, like the Fondation Beyeler, in Basel, by Renzo Piano, soon with a lovely modest expansion by Zumthor. Nobody likes a super tanker, which is easy to respect but hard to love.
    When it comes to big, we need to differentiate between the gigantic temple on the hill versus what I think could be the future: the SESC Pompéia model, an interdisciplinary, social-cultural hub that may be quite big in the aggregate, and where the visual arts play a role inside a larger matrix. Particularly in our big, sprawling cities, such multipurpose, campus-like configurations could be an ideal setting for a museum.
    JR: I agree that the future might be more like the biennale model: When done well, the whole city is activated. In that sense maybe the size of the institution itself is less important. But I worry that smaller institutions will be hurt as public funding dries up and all museums become increasingly reliant on philanthropy. The regional, kunsthalle-like spots will suffer because those aren’t glamorous places to give money, but those are often the locations the programming makes the biggest impact in the community.
    AN: What else should we discuss?
    AS: Globalization is worth mentioning. There is a parallel to be drawn, perhaps, to the evolution of art. At the end of the 20th century, an astonishing amount of liberation became available to artists as the master narrative of modernism splintered to a more pluralistic discourse where all kinds of positions were accepted as art. Today I think something similar has happened in museum architecture: With the proliferation of museums globally, the language of museum architecture has opened up into a new openness to difference and variation, often informed by regional, vernacular forms and needs. Museums can be built using local materials or respond to local typologies, versus the older ideas of the white cube or the enfilade gallery sequence. Anything can be a museum—not just because of reuse, which is important, but because architects can build some crazy stuff inside almost any kind of building: a power station, a prison, a hospital, an army barracks. And people will say, “That’s a museum.”

    JR: There’s a running joke in museum design that the Louvre is an adaptive reuse project. And it’s true: The world’s first public art museum started out as a palace. This speaks to the museum’s typological flexibility. Its program is very architectural in the sense that it’s about how people and artworks interact in space, but it’s not like an airport or a hospital with a hyper-specialized program that is understandably difficult to fit into an existing structure. I’m optimistic that museums will stay on the cutting edge of adaptive reuse even as it gets more and more important for the whole architectural profession.
    Another thing that came out of my book is how much museum architects pay attention to the spaces artists are working in. The New York loft is the classic example. Once upon a time, not every gallery looked like a renovated postindustrial space, but artists moved into defunct industrial spaces decades ago and eventually exhibition spaces followed.
    This exchange goes both ways—its dialectical. As museum buildings have gotten more varied, artists have had a lot of fun learning how to use these new spaces. The Guggenheim in New York is an example. For decades,Wright’s design has been criticized because it’s hard to show most traditional art forms on the spiral ramps. But the best things I’ve seen in that museum in the past ten years have been installations in the atrium. Artists can do something wild with that space. After seeing that, do you really want to look at a little painting on a curvy wall?
    Julian Rose is a designer, critic, and historian. He is currently completing a PhD at Princeton on the origin and evolution of museums of contemporary art.
    András Szántó advises museums, foundations, educational institutions, and corporations on cultural strategy and program development, worldwide.
    This post contains affiliate links. AN may have a commission if you make a purchase through these links.
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    Julian Rose and András Szántó share notes about interviewing art-focused architects and the future of the museum
    Julian Rose’s Building Cultures, published last year by Princeton Architectural Press, contains 16 in-depth interviews with leading architects who have designed museums around the world. In 2022, András Szántó’s Imagining the Future Museum: 21 Dialogues with Architects, published by Hatje Cantz, offered a complementary glimpse into the sensibilities of a new generation of voices.Rose and Szántó sat down with AN’s executive editor Jack Murphy to discuss the museum’s inexhaustible spatial variety and its capacity to shape civic and cultural space today. Julian Rose’s Building Cultures, published last year by Princeton Architectural Press, contains 16 interviews with architects.AN: Julian, what are the major themes, concerns, and anxieties that you heard when interviewing architects about designing museums? Julian Rose: The conversations in Building Culture grew out of my time at Artforum, so they began nearly 10 years ago in a pretty different world. In that context, one important theme was looking at the museum to understand how architecture relates to arts. Architects, either by choice or because the culture at large compels them to, are always defining what they do in relation to other cultural practices, especially the visual arts. This relationship goes back to the modernist avant-garde, and you could trace it even further. I was drawn towards architects who had deep connections to art, maybe they had even gone to art school or had a record of collaboration; not coincidentally, a lot of them have become known as museum specialists. The answers I heard were refreshing; people were not necessarily learning the lessons I expected. As an example: With Peter Zumthor, I thought we were going to have a focused conversation about the very architectural aesthetics and materials used by certain artists like Richard Serra or Donald Judd. No—he wanted to talk about the bigger picture, the emotional and philosophical connections. He’s obsessed with Walter de Maria’s landscape works like Lightning Field. Even if they don’t seem to have an obvious connection to architecture, he loves the scale and ambition. This kind of surprise happened in several conversations. The other key topic is the typological problem of the museum. As I write in my introduction, the museum refuses spatial optimization—there’s no “best” way to design one. In part, that’s because contemporary art is evolving. Look at the popularity of large-scale installations today, which require big open spaces, versus the more old-fashioned idea of a museum being the place you go to have a one-on-one moment with a masterpiece, which needs intimate galleries. Until recently, “public art” was a kind of forlorn category. It was something you might happen on in a park or a subway station, and it was separate from what most people thought of as real art, which of course was what you saw in the museum. And you went to the museum to have what was essentially a private experience of that art. Now you go to the museum to have an experience that’s both aesthetic and social—to look at art and to enjoy a public space—and I think that’s a huge part of why museums are so popular today. One of the fundamental takeaways from the book is that contemporary art is becoming more and more public, and the evolution of the art museum has been a crucial part of that shift. Artists are creating work that’s meant to be experienced by many people at once, and they need new spaces to do that. At the same time, all the architects wanted to talk about circulation, because there is a tension on some level between how we traditionally think of experiencing art and the crowds that certain museums are starting to receive. András Szántó’s Imagining the Future Museum: 21 Dialogues with Architects also features interviews with leading architects who design museumsAN: András, how does this compare to how you approached your book? András Szántó: One reason why the two books are quite complementary is that their genesis is so different. Julian, your book approaches its subjects with an interest in their relationship to art and their creative work. For me, the direction of travel was different. My talks came out of a previous book, which I did during the pandemic, for which I interviewed museum directors about how their institutions are changing. Rather than reviewing past projects, I was interested in the architects’ overall perspective on the museum as a form. Generally, there is the idea that architecture saved the visual arts from the fate of other forms of high art. And there has been a post-pandemic realization that you can do highly elitist and exclusive architecture in the language of modern design, just as you can using neoclassical architecture. We see a reckoning for how to realign museums to serve a wider segment of the population, not just the creation of these beautiful confections to attract the wealthy, highly educated cultural tourists of the world, but maybe the ability to send the message to someone who lives two miles away, “This is for you.” Venturi, Scott Brown and Associates, Sainsbury Wing, National Gallery, London, U.K., 1991Sainsbury Wing renovation by Selldorf ArchitectsAN: How did you go about selecting the architects you wanted to interview? AS: You consign yourself to a lifetime of apologies to people who you didn’t interview. I wanted to be global, so I didn’t stack my book with New York–based architects. I wanted to attempt a gender balance, which was difficult. Again, I think our books work well together, Julian, because you spoke with a lot of people on my dream list. JR: I agree that our books are a good pair; it was fun for me to read your book when mine was in progress. I was first educated as an architect, but I’m also coming at this as a historian, so the idea was trying to figure out how we got here: How did museums become so important? I think that the success of both the museum and contemporary art in general is a bit of a surprise to everyone. In this century, we’ve seen so many traditional “highbrow” forms of culture get pushed to the periphery, but museums are thriving. I thought about Building Culture as an oral history project. I almost did the opposite of András: I have a couple younger voices, but I wanted to speak with established figures because that generation has shaped the present and has ideas about the future, too. Frank Gehry was one of the first people I interviewed; he’s 96 and he still has important museums under construction. It was interesting to ask Renzo Piano what he thinks is next. People like Frank and Renzo have had plenty of media exposure, but I did feel like there was a certain depth missing from journalistic coverage. I wanted to do a relatively small number of longer conversations and cover the widest historical range I could. I was thrilled to have Denise Scott Brown in there, because the Sainsbury Wingalone is a paradigm-shifting project. She’s part of a whole generation that had a huge impact through postmodern museum designs, although most ofare no longer with us. That felt important to capture. Gehry Partners, Guggenheim Museum Bilbao, Spain, 1997AS: We’re discussing the success of contemporary visual art, which for most people feels inscrutable and hard to access. You had an interesting thought experiment: What would the same art have done without the scaffolding of the museum around it? The art museum could have become a dusty, irrelevant thing—and often still is—but through the efforts of a new generation of museum experts, working together with architects, communicators, and other specialists, this form has been lifted up and made super contemporary through, frankly, a lot of the functions that were seen as somewhat secondary. This is where the rubber meets the road for architects: So many of the metrics, even the audience metrics, are related to the non-gallery functions of the museum. People flock to the museum as a place, and this is where architecture, landscape architecture, and interior design have been superb. Museums have become civic hubs, which was maybe a secondary concern initially. That’s why people like Piano and Gehry are interesting, because they came up having to work in both worlds. They created this highly successful institutional typology, which still has those art at its core, but it’s the civic infrastructure that is the most successful. JR: Museums have always had a civic function, but almost as a secondary part of the program. With an institution like the Centre Pompidou in Paris the civic aspect starts to dominate. Meanwhile, all of these other institutions that used to provide shared social space have largely disappeared, which has an isolating and alienating effect on culture. It’s funny: Civic engagement started out as almost an afterthought, but it has become a crucial function of the museum in the 21st century. AS: Another point to make about generations: Do not confuse age with being namby-pamby or conservative. Today’s older architects are people of the 1960s, absolutely. Many, like Elizabeth Diller and David Chipperfield, were more radical then than some of our younger architects are today. They did not necessarily expect to be multimillionaires. They were devoted to the public sphere. These “older” figures who now get giant commissions are, on a DNA level, super radical people. JR: Richard Gluckman is another important example. Like Chipperfield, he has a direct connection to modernism through his education. We can talk all day about modernism as a failed project, but the fact is that back when people like Richard and David were in school, architecture was still seen as a fundamental part of the progressive state. Gluckman went to school at Syracuse University in the late 1960s, and as a student he worked for his professors exclusively on projects like housing and university campuses. But by the time he got around to opening his own office, it was 1977. New York had almost gone bankrupt—no one was building that stuff anymore. Gluckman got involved in designing spaces for art, and this was his way of basically sneaking back into the public sphere. I think their generation was connected to a very different—and very powerful—understanding of what architecture meant for society, and you still see that in their work today. AS: We can think about the art museum as a scaffolding building around a core enterprise of artistic experience. But this means something different for collecting versus non-collecting institutions. Often, you find institutions places that are dedicating more and more of their space to social functions around the art, contemplative aspects of art, and so on. The best architects are absolutely capable of doing both things: One is creating transparency, porosity, ease of access, and landscape integration in a way that flows, and the other is delivering wonderful amenities like shops and cafes. We can question some old dichotomies: How hard do you have to separate gallery space and social space? How porous could those boundaries be? What everybody profoundly believes is that a successful museum experience must have a magic combination of three things: objects, humans, and architecture. And when those three things come together—incredible real objects with a social experience in the company of other people in a magisterial architectural space—that creates an enduring magic that you cannnot sacrifice. Shohei Shigematsu/OMA, rendering of the New Museum of Contemporary Art expansion, New York, New York, anticipated completion 2025JR: It was interesting for me to think about how conservative the museum can be. My conversation with Shohei Shigematsu at OMA put that into relief for me. He was one of the lead architects for the Whitney Museum extension proposal. At the time, OMA’s whole thing was reinventing typologies for the 21st century—think CCTV twisting the skyscraper, or Seattle transforming the public library. They took that aggressive critical method to the museum too—in the 1990s for MoMA and the Tate Modern, and then to the Whitney in 2001, and didn’t win a single competition. The establishment was not interested! AS: I agree that architects are often more radical than their clients. Hopefully nobody misunderstands this, but there is often a profound disconnect between the veneration of rule-breaking, iconoclastic innovation in the gallery versus the conservatism of the museum organization. Organizationally speaking, most museums have not read an airport book on modern management. I see architects trying to push against that. An easy example: Why do these buildings still look like fortresses? Libraries have been redesigned to work for people while still accommodating books. All too often, art museums still feel like citadels with lots of walls. Why? Because walls are great for hanging art on the inside of the building. Is that really the singular goal? AN: How does the scale of the institution shape what it can do? AS: We have certainly seen the emergence of a lot of small institutes and institutions, because of the enormous expansion of private museums. I do think small scale is good. When you ask most people about their favorite museums, they will frequently mention places that are quite intimate, like the Fondation Beyeler, in Basel, by Renzo Piano, soon with a lovely modest expansion by Zumthor. Nobody likes a super tanker, which is easy to respect but hard to love. When it comes to big, we need to differentiate between the gigantic temple on the hill versus what I think could be the future: the SESC Pompéia model, an interdisciplinary, social-cultural hub that may be quite big in the aggregate, and where the visual arts play a role inside a larger matrix. Particularly in our big, sprawling cities, such multipurpose, campus-like configurations could be an ideal setting for a museum. JR: I agree that the future might be more like the biennale model: When done well, the whole city is activated. In that sense maybe the size of the institution itself is less important. But I worry that smaller institutions will be hurt as public funding dries up and all museums become increasingly reliant on philanthropy. The regional, kunsthalle-like spots will suffer because those aren’t glamorous places to give money, but those are often the locations the programming makes the biggest impact in the community. AN: What else should we discuss? AS: Globalization is worth mentioning. There is a parallel to be drawn, perhaps, to the evolution of art. At the end of the 20th century, an astonishing amount of liberation became available to artists as the master narrative of modernism splintered to a more pluralistic discourse where all kinds of positions were accepted as art. Today I think something similar has happened in museum architecture: With the proliferation of museums globally, the language of museum architecture has opened up into a new openness to difference and variation, often informed by regional, vernacular forms and needs. Museums can be built using local materials or respond to local typologies, versus the older ideas of the white cube or the enfilade gallery sequence. Anything can be a museum—not just because of reuse, which is important, but because architects can build some crazy stuff inside almost any kind of building: a power station, a prison, a hospital, an army barracks. And people will say, “That’s a museum.” JR: There’s a running joke in museum design that the Louvre is an adaptive reuse project. And it’s true: The world’s first public art museum started out as a palace. This speaks to the museum’s typological flexibility. Its program is very architectural in the sense that it’s about how people and artworks interact in space, but it’s not like an airport or a hospital with a hyper-specialized program that is understandably difficult to fit into an existing structure. I’m optimistic that museums will stay on the cutting edge of adaptive reuse even as it gets more and more important for the whole architectural profession. Another thing that came out of my book is how much museum architects pay attention to the spaces artists are working in. The New York loft is the classic example. Once upon a time, not every gallery looked like a renovated postindustrial space, but artists moved into defunct industrial spaces decades ago and eventually exhibition spaces followed. This exchange goes both ways—its dialectical. As museum buildings have gotten more varied, artists have had a lot of fun learning how to use these new spaces. The Guggenheim in New York is an example. For decades,Wright’s design has been criticized because it’s hard to show most traditional art forms on the spiral ramps. But the best things I’ve seen in that museum in the past ten years have been installations in the atrium. Artists can do something wild with that space. After seeing that, do you really want to look at a little painting on a curvy wall? Julian Rose is a designer, critic, and historian. He is currently completing a PhD at Princeton on the origin and evolution of museums of contemporary art. András Szántó advises museums, foundations, educational institutions, and corporations on cultural strategy and program development, worldwide. This post contains affiliate links. AN may have a commission if you make a purchase through these links. #julian #rose #andrás #szántó #share
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    Julian Rose and András Szántó share notes about interviewing art-focused architects and the future of the museum
    Julian Rose’s Building Cultures, published last year by Princeton Architectural Press, contains 16 in-depth interviews with leading architects who have designed museums around the world. In 2022, András Szántó’s Imagining the Future Museum: 21 Dialogues with Architects, published by Hatje Cantz, offered a complementary glimpse into the sensibilities of a new generation of voices. (The titles share four interviewees: David Adjaye, David Chipperfield, Elizabeth Diller, and Kulapat Yantrasat) Rose and Szántó sat down with AN’s executive editor Jack Murphy to discuss the museum’s inexhaustible spatial variety and its capacity to shape civic and cultural space today. Julian Rose’s Building Cultures, published last year by Princeton Architectural Press, contains 16 interviews with architects. (Courtesy Princeton Architectural Press) AN: Julian, what are the major themes, concerns, and anxieties that you heard when interviewing architects about designing museums? Julian Rose (JR): The conversations in Building Culture grew out of my time at Artforum, so they began nearly 10 years ago in a pretty different world. In that context, one important theme was looking at the museum to understand how architecture relates to arts. Architects, either by choice or because the culture at large compels them to, are always defining what they do in relation to other cultural practices, especially the visual arts. This relationship goes back to the modernist avant-garde, and you could trace it even further. I was drawn towards architects who had deep connections to art, maybe they had even gone to art school or had a record of collaboration; not coincidentally, a lot of them have become known as museum specialists. The answers I heard were refreshing; people were not necessarily learning the lessons I expected. As an example: With Peter Zumthor, I thought we were going to have a focused conversation about the very architectural aesthetics and materials used by certain artists like Richard Serra or Donald Judd. No—he wanted to talk about the bigger picture, the emotional and philosophical connections. He’s obsessed with Walter de Maria’s landscape works like Lightning Field. Even if they don’t seem to have an obvious connection to architecture, he loves the scale and ambition. This kind of surprise happened in several conversations. The other key topic is the typological problem of the museum. As I write in my introduction, the museum refuses spatial optimization—there’s no “best” way to design one. In part, that’s because contemporary art is evolving. Look at the popularity of large-scale installations today, which require big open spaces, versus the more old-fashioned idea of a museum being the place you go to have a one-on-one moment with a masterpiece, which needs intimate galleries. Until recently, “public art” was a kind of forlorn category. It was something you might happen on in a park or a subway station, and it was separate from what most people thought of as real art, which of course was what you saw in the museum. And you went to the museum to have what was essentially a private experience of that art. Now you go to the museum to have an experience that’s both aesthetic and social—to look at art and to enjoy a public space—and I think that’s a huge part of why museums are so popular today. One of the fundamental takeaways from the book is that contemporary art is becoming more and more public, and the evolution of the art museum has been a crucial part of that shift. Artists are creating work that’s meant to be experienced by many people at once, and they need new spaces to do that. At the same time, all the architects wanted to talk about circulation, because there is a tension on some level between how we traditionally think of experiencing art and the crowds that certain museums are starting to receive. András Szántó’s Imagining the Future Museum: 21 Dialogues with Architects also features interviews with leading architects who design museums (Hatje Cantz) AN: András, how does this compare to how you approached your book? András Szántó (AS): One reason why the two books are quite complementary is that their genesis is so different. Julian, your book approaches its subjects with an interest in their relationship to art and their creative work. For me, the direction of travel was different. My talks came out of a previous book, which I did during the pandemic, for which I interviewed museum directors about how their institutions are changing. Rather than reviewing past projects, I was interested in the architects’ overall perspective on the museum as a form. Generally, there is the idea that architecture saved the visual arts from the fate of other forms of high art. And there has been a post-pandemic realization that you can do highly elitist and exclusive architecture in the language of modern design, just as you can using neoclassical architecture. We see a reckoning for how to realign museums to serve a wider segment of the population, not just the creation of these beautiful confections to attract the wealthy, highly educated cultural tourists of the world, but maybe the ability to send the message to someone who lives two miles away, “This is for you.” Venturi, Scott Brown and Associates, Sainsbury Wing, National Gallery, London, U.K., 1991 (Matt Wargo) Sainsbury Wing renovation by Selldorf Architects (Edmund Sumner/©The National Gallery London) AN: How did you go about selecting the architects you wanted to interview? AS: You consign yourself to a lifetime of apologies to people who you didn’t interview. I wanted to be global, so I didn’t stack my book with New York–based architects. I wanted to attempt a gender balance, which was difficult. Again, I think our books work well together, Julian, because you spoke with a lot of people on my dream list. JR: I agree that our books are a good pair; it was fun for me to read your book when mine was in progress. I was first educated as an architect, but I’m also coming at this as a historian, so the idea was trying to figure out how we got here: How did museums become so important? I think that the success of both the museum and contemporary art in general is a bit of a surprise to everyone. In this century, we’ve seen so many traditional “highbrow” forms of culture get pushed to the periphery, but museums are thriving. I thought about Building Culture as an oral history project. I almost did the opposite of András: I have a couple younger voices, but I wanted to speak with established figures because that generation has shaped the present and has ideas about the future, too. Frank Gehry was one of the first people I interviewed; he’s 96 and he still has important museums under construction. It was interesting to ask Renzo Piano what he thinks is next. People like Frank and Renzo have had plenty of media exposure, but I did feel like there was a certain depth missing from journalistic coverage. I wanted to do a relatively small number of longer conversations and cover the widest historical range I could. I was thrilled to have Denise Scott Brown in there, because the Sainsbury Wing [of the National Gallery, London] alone is a paradigm-shifting project. She’s part of a whole generation that had a huge impact through postmodern museum designs, although most of [her peers] are no longer with us. That felt important to capture. Gehry Partners, Guggenheim Museum Bilbao, Spain, 1997 (Courtesy Gehry Partners, LLP/© Frank O. Gehry) AS: We’re discussing the success of contemporary visual art, which for most people feels inscrutable and hard to access. You had an interesting thought experiment: What would the same art have done without the scaffolding of the museum around it? The art museum could have become a dusty, irrelevant thing—and often still is—but through the efforts of a new generation of museum experts, working together with architects, communicators, and other specialists, this form has been lifted up and made super contemporary through, frankly, a lot of the functions that were seen as somewhat secondary. This is where the rubber meets the road for architects: So many of the metrics, even the audience metrics, are related to the non-gallery functions of the museum. People flock to the museum as a place, and this is where architecture, landscape architecture, and interior design have been superb. Museums have become civic hubs, which was maybe a secondary concern initially. That’s why people like Piano and Gehry are interesting, because they came up having to work in both worlds. They created this highly successful institutional typology, which still has those art at its core, but it’s the civic infrastructure that is the most successful. JR: Museums have always had a civic function, but almost as a secondary part of the program. With an institution like the Centre Pompidou in Paris the civic aspect starts to dominate. Meanwhile, all of these other institutions that used to provide shared social space have largely disappeared, which has an isolating and alienating effect on culture. It’s funny: Civic engagement started out as almost an afterthought, but it has become a crucial function of the museum in the 21st century. AS: Another point to make about generations: Do not confuse age with being namby-pamby or conservative. Today’s older architects are people of the 1960s, absolutely. Many, like Elizabeth Diller and David Chipperfield, were more radical then than some of our younger architects are today. They did not necessarily expect to be multimillionaires. They were devoted to the public sphere. These “older” figures who now get giant commissions are, on a DNA level, super radical people. JR: Richard Gluckman is another important example. Like Chipperfield, he has a direct connection to modernism through his education. We can talk all day about modernism as a failed project, but the fact is that back when people like Richard and David were in school, architecture was still seen as a fundamental part of the progressive state. Gluckman went to school at Syracuse University in the late 1960s, and as a student he worked for his professors exclusively on projects like housing and university campuses. But by the time he got around to opening his own office, it was 1977. New York had almost gone bankrupt—no one was building that stuff anymore. Gluckman got involved in designing spaces for art, and this was his way of basically sneaking back into the public sphere. I think their generation was connected to a very different—and very powerful—understanding of what architecture meant for society, and you still see that in their work today. AS: We can think about the art museum as a scaffolding building around a core enterprise of artistic experience. But this means something different for collecting versus non-collecting institutions. Often, you find institutions places that are dedicating more and more of their space to social functions around the art, contemplative aspects of art, and so on. The best architects are absolutely capable of doing both things: One is creating transparency, porosity, ease of access, and landscape integration in a way that flows, and the other is delivering wonderful amenities like shops and cafes. We can question some old dichotomies: How hard do you have to separate gallery space and social space? How porous could those boundaries be? What everybody profoundly believes is that a successful museum experience must have a magic combination of three things: objects, humans, and architecture. And when those three things come together—incredible real objects with a social experience in the company of other people in a magisterial architectural space—that creates an enduring magic that you cannnot sacrifice. Shohei Shigematsu/OMA, rendering of the New Museum of Contemporary Art expansion, New York, New York, anticipated completion 2025 (Courtesy OMA/bloomimages.de) JR: It was interesting for me to think about how conservative the museum can be. My conversation with Shohei Shigematsu at OMA put that into relief for me. He was one of the lead architects for the Whitney Museum extension proposal. At the time, OMA’s whole thing was reinventing typologies for the 21st century—think CCTV twisting the skyscraper, or Seattle transforming the public library. They took that aggressive critical method to the museum too—in the 1990s for MoMA and the Tate Modern, and then to the Whitney in 2001, and didn’t win a single competition. The establishment was not interested! AS: I agree that architects are often more radical than their clients. Hopefully nobody misunderstands this, but there is often a profound disconnect between the veneration of rule-breaking, iconoclastic innovation in the gallery versus the conservatism of the museum organization. Organizationally speaking, most museums have not read an airport book on modern management. I see architects trying to push against that. An easy example: Why do these buildings still look like fortresses? Libraries have been redesigned to work for people while still accommodating books. All too often, art museums still feel like citadels with lots of walls. Why? Because walls are great for hanging art on the inside of the building. Is that really the singular goal? AN: How does the scale of the institution shape what it can do? AS: We have certainly seen the emergence of a lot of small institutes and institutions, because of the enormous expansion of private museums. I do think small scale is good. When you ask most people about their favorite museums, they will frequently mention places that are quite intimate, like the Fondation Beyeler, in Basel, by Renzo Piano, soon with a lovely modest expansion by Zumthor. Nobody likes a super tanker, which is easy to respect but hard to love. When it comes to big, we need to differentiate between the gigantic temple on the hill versus what I think could be the future: the SESC Pompéia model, an interdisciplinary, social-cultural hub that may be quite big in the aggregate, and where the visual arts play a role inside a larger matrix. Particularly in our big, sprawling cities, such multipurpose, campus-like configurations could be an ideal setting for a museum. JR: I agree that the future might be more like the biennale model: When done well, the whole city is activated. In that sense maybe the size of the institution itself is less important. But I worry that smaller institutions will be hurt as public funding dries up and all museums become increasingly reliant on philanthropy. The regional, kunsthalle-like spots will suffer because those aren’t glamorous places to give money, but those are often the locations the programming makes the biggest impact in the community. AN: What else should we discuss? AS: Globalization is worth mentioning. There is a parallel to be drawn, perhaps, to the evolution of art. At the end of the 20th century, an astonishing amount of liberation became available to artists as the master narrative of modernism splintered to a more pluralistic discourse where all kinds of positions were accepted as art. Today I think something similar has happened in museum architecture: With the proliferation of museums globally, the language of museum architecture has opened up into a new openness to difference and variation, often informed by regional, vernacular forms and needs. Museums can be built using local materials or respond to local typologies, versus the older ideas of the white cube or the enfilade gallery sequence. Anything can be a museum—not just because of reuse, which is important, but because architects can build some crazy stuff inside almost any kind of building: a power station, a prison, a hospital, an army barracks. And people will say, “That’s a museum.” JR: There’s a running joke in museum design that the Louvre is an adaptive reuse project. And it’s true: The world’s first public art museum started out as a palace. This speaks to the museum’s typological flexibility. Its program is very architectural in the sense that it’s about how people and artworks interact in space, but it’s not like an airport or a hospital with a hyper-specialized program that is understandably difficult to fit into an existing structure. I’m optimistic that museums will stay on the cutting edge of adaptive reuse even as it gets more and more important for the whole architectural profession. Another thing that came out of my book is how much museum architects pay attention to the spaces artists are working in. The New York loft is the classic example. Once upon a time, not every gallery looked like a renovated postindustrial space, but artists moved into defunct industrial spaces decades ago and eventually exhibition spaces followed. This exchange goes both ways—its dialectical. As museum buildings have gotten more varied, artists have had a lot of fun learning how to use these new spaces. The Guggenheim in New York is an example. For decades, [Frank Lloyd] Wright’s design has been criticized because it’s hard to show most traditional art forms on the spiral ramps. But the best things I’ve seen in that museum in the past ten years have been installations in the atrium. Artists can do something wild with that space. After seeing that, do you really want to look at a little painting on a curvy wall? Julian Rose is a designer, critic, and historian. He is currently completing a PhD at Princeton on the origin and evolution of museums of contemporary art. András Szántó advises museums, foundations, educational institutions, and corporations on cultural strategy and program development, worldwide. This post contains affiliate links. AN may have a commission if you make a purchase through these links.
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  • How the Grand Ole Opry Put Uniquely American Music at Center Stage

    How the Grand Ole Opry Put Uniquely American Music at Center Stage
    Through daring business decisions and an eye for talent, the vaunted country radio program still stands as a tastemaker for the fastest-growing genre in popular music

    Lindsay Kusiak

    June 2025

    The Grand Ole Opry’s famous six-foot circle of wood was carefully carved from the previous stage at the Ryman Auditorium.
    The Grand Ole Opry

    On December 10, 1927, radio host George D. Hay announced the end of an hourlong opera program on Nashville’s WSM radio. Next up was the much more down-home Barn Dance. “For the past hour, we have been listening to the music taken largely from the Grand Opera,” Hay ad-libbed, “but from now on we will present the Grand Ole Opry.”
    It was an inadvertent and fateful christening for what would become a cultural institution and eventually the longest-running radio program in the country, introducing tens of millions of listeners to a distinctly American-born genre of music. As Hay playfully commented, the Opry offered a stark contrast to other highbrow programs populating the airwaves, swapping symphonies and arias for jaunty renditions of old Anglo-Celtic, European and African-American ballads played on the fiddle, banjo and guitar. It was hoedown music, or, as Hay lovingly called it, “hillbilly music,” and with a radio boom well underway, Hay had chosen an exceptionally propitious time to share it.
    Commercial radio fever swept the nation beginning in 1920, with more than 600 new stations emerging by the time the Opry premiered. But it was not the only barn dance on air, and Hay sought a way to make the show unique. He was known for his theatrical on-air persona, a mordant prude called “the Solemn Old Judge,” and he encouraged each new Opry band to adopt a comical homespun identity that would charm working-class listeners. In the process, he transformed bands like Dr. Humphrey Bate’s Augmented String Orchestra into the

    overall-clad Possum Hunters, and other groups into old-timey miners or clumsy farmhands. As the Great Depression began, Hay’s salt-of-the-earth approach charmed the audience, while WSM made several ingenious business decisions that shaped popular music forever. First, WSM did the unthinkable amid a hemorrhaging economy, investing a quarter of a million dollars—million today—to build a new radio tower. It was the tallest in the country and one of only three 50,000-watt clear-channel towers in the United States. It allowed WSM’s broadcast to reach the whole nation. To bolster musicians, whose record sales were plummeting, WSM began sending bands on regional tours during the week, creating one of the country’s first talent agencies, the Artists Service Bureau. Soon, Opry stars were performing for as many as 12,000 people a day at schools or picnics Sunday through Friday, before hustling back to the Opry for their Saturday night radio gig. 
    In 1939, the Grand Ole Opry joined NBC’s radio network, transmitting the show to 125 stations. It wasn’t long before the Opry’s successes gained a big-time sponsor, R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company, maker of Camel cigarettes, which sponsored a USO-style tour starring several Opry stars. Called the Grand Ole Opry Camel Caravan, the troupe appeared exclusively for military members at bases throughout the U.S. and Central America during the summer of 1941, charming soldiers with toe-tapping hillbilly music and comedy from Minnie Pearl. A few months later, following Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor, millions of those same soldiers were now crooning the Opry’s songs on troopships and in overseas barracks as they deployed in World War II. 

    Dolly Parton, a member of the Grand Ole Opry for 56 years, first performed on its legendary stage at age 10.

    Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives

    The show’s new popularity among soldiers spurred the Armed Forces Radio Serviceto add the Grand Ole Opry to its overseas broadcast in 1943, transmitting the Opry’s weekly show to 306 outlets in 47 countries. By 1945, an AFRS station in Munich reported that Opry superstar Roy Acuff was more popular among its listeners than Frank Sinatra. The show even triumphed in the Pacific Theater, where famed war correspondent Ernie Pyle reported that during the Battle of Okinawa, Japanese troops were chanting, “To hell with Roosevelt, to hell with Babe Ruth, and to hell with Roy Acuff!” 
    In 1943, the Opry moved into the Ryman Auditorium, the city’s largest venue at the time. And still, the Saturday night showcase—featuring up-and-coming stars like Hank Williams and, later, Patsy Cline, Willie Nelson and Loretta Lynn—sold out each week. It wasn’t until 1974 that the Opry finally moved into its current home, the 4,440-seat Grand Ole Opry House. 
    Today, the Grand Ole Opry has spent nearly 100 years as a country tastemaker, elevating stars like George Jones, Garth Brooks, Johnny Cash and hundreds more. Thanks to this hardy institution, and contributions by crossover artists like Beyoncé, country music continues to dominate the streaming charts and in 2023 was declared the fastest-growing genre in popular music. As country singer and Opry member Brad Paisley put it, “Pilgrims travel to Jerusalem to see the Holy Land and the foundations of their faith. People go to Washington, D.C. to see the workings of government and the foundation of our country. And fans flock to Nashville to see the foundation of country music, the Grand Ole Opry.”

    Subscribe to Smithsonian magazine now for just This article is a selection from the June 2025 issue of Smithsonian magazine

    A Family Affair
    The Opry thrives on a network of stars invited to join its ranks. Here are four of the longest-serving members
    By Teddy BrokawBill Monroe — Member for 56 years

    Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives

    It’s often been said that if there were a Mount Rushmore of the Opry, Bill Monroe’s face would be featured. In 1938, the mandolinist formed the Blue Grass Boys, a group so essential in the development of the style that it would ultimately give the genre its name. So popular was the group’s music on the weekly radio program that the show’s manager once told Monroe, “If you ever leave the Opry, you’ll have to fire yourself!” Monroe, who died in 1996, helped launch the careers of other Opry legends like Flatt and Scruggs, and also inspired trailblazers far beyond the country music world: Elvis covered his “Blue Moon of Kentucky”; and Jerry Garcia traveled with Monroe’s tour before forming the Grateful Dead.
    Jeannie Seely — Member for 57 years

    Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives

    From the time she was tall enough to reach the dial of the family radio, Jeannie Seely had dreams of the Grand Ole Opry. After a series of hits in her signature “country soul” style, Seely was inducted into the Opry at age 27. She pushed its boundaries from the outset, helping to bring down the “gingham curtain”—the show’s requirement that female performers wear long dresses—by refusing to comply unless the rules were enforced on the audience as well. Seely repaid the Opry with a devotion that persists today, holding the record for appearances with over 5,000. When the Opry House flooded and waters destroyed Seely’s home in 2010, she still performed—in borrowed clothes.
    Loretta Lynn — Member for 60 years

    Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives

    For six decades, Loretta Lynn, the “Coal Miner’s Daughter,” constantly propelled the genre forward. Her hardscrabble upbringing in Kentucky, immortalized in her autobiography and its film version, seemed to drive her unapologetic approach to music. Hits like “The Pill,” which in 1975 stood as one of the first songs to tackle the use of birth control, nearly caused her to be banned from the Opry. A defiant Lynn played “The Pill” three times during one Opry show and told media, “If they hadn’t let me sing the song, I’d have told them to shove the Grand Ole Opry!” Lynn died in 2022.
    Bill Anderson — Member for 63 years

    Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives

    The longest-tenured member of the Opry, “Whispering Bill” Anderson began his adult life on an entirely different path, turning down an offer to attend the Chicago Cubs training camp as a pitching prospect to attend the University of Georgia. As a journalism student there, Anderson availed himself of a half-built college television studio to record “City Lights,” which quickly became a smash hit for country star Ray Price in 1958. Anderson followed that success with tracks of his own. Now in his seventh decade with the show, he still performs at the Opry and continues to release music. Lately, his biggest hits have come from collaborations with other artists, as with “Whiskey Lullaby,” a 2003 double-platinum hit co-written with Jon Randall for Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss. 

    Get the latest Travel & Culture stories in your inbox.
    #how #grand #ole #opry #put
    How the Grand Ole Opry Put Uniquely American Music at Center Stage
    How the Grand Ole Opry Put Uniquely American Music at Center Stage Through daring business decisions and an eye for talent, the vaunted country radio program still stands as a tastemaker for the fastest-growing genre in popular music Lindsay Kusiak June 2025 The Grand Ole Opry’s famous six-foot circle of wood was carefully carved from the previous stage at the Ryman Auditorium. The Grand Ole Opry On December 10, 1927, radio host George D. Hay announced the end of an hourlong opera program on Nashville’s WSM radio. Next up was the much more down-home Barn Dance. “For the past hour, we have been listening to the music taken largely from the Grand Opera,” Hay ad-libbed, “but from now on we will present the Grand Ole Opry.” It was an inadvertent and fateful christening for what would become a cultural institution and eventually the longest-running radio program in the country, introducing tens of millions of listeners to a distinctly American-born genre of music. As Hay playfully commented, the Opry offered a stark contrast to other highbrow programs populating the airwaves, swapping symphonies and arias for jaunty renditions of old Anglo-Celtic, European and African-American ballads played on the fiddle, banjo and guitar. It was hoedown music, or, as Hay lovingly called it, “hillbilly music,” and with a radio boom well underway, Hay had chosen an exceptionally propitious time to share it. Commercial radio fever swept the nation beginning in 1920, with more than 600 new stations emerging by the time the Opry premiered. But it was not the only barn dance on air, and Hay sought a way to make the show unique. He was known for his theatrical on-air persona, a mordant prude called “the Solemn Old Judge,” and he encouraged each new Opry band to adopt a comical homespun identity that would charm working-class listeners. In the process, he transformed bands like Dr. Humphrey Bate’s Augmented String Orchestra into the overall-clad Possum Hunters, and other groups into old-timey miners or clumsy farmhands. As the Great Depression began, Hay’s salt-of-the-earth approach charmed the audience, while WSM made several ingenious business decisions that shaped popular music forever. First, WSM did the unthinkable amid a hemorrhaging economy, investing a quarter of a million dollars—million today—to build a new radio tower. It was the tallest in the country and one of only three 50,000-watt clear-channel towers in the United States. It allowed WSM’s broadcast to reach the whole nation. To bolster musicians, whose record sales were plummeting, WSM began sending bands on regional tours during the week, creating one of the country’s first talent agencies, the Artists Service Bureau. Soon, Opry stars were performing for as many as 12,000 people a day at schools or picnics Sunday through Friday, before hustling back to the Opry for their Saturday night radio gig.  In 1939, the Grand Ole Opry joined NBC’s radio network, transmitting the show to 125 stations. It wasn’t long before the Opry’s successes gained a big-time sponsor, R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company, maker of Camel cigarettes, which sponsored a USO-style tour starring several Opry stars. Called the Grand Ole Opry Camel Caravan, the troupe appeared exclusively for military members at bases throughout the U.S. and Central America during the summer of 1941, charming soldiers with toe-tapping hillbilly music and comedy from Minnie Pearl. A few months later, following Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor, millions of those same soldiers were now crooning the Opry’s songs on troopships and in overseas barracks as they deployed in World War II.  Dolly Parton, a member of the Grand Ole Opry for 56 years, first performed on its legendary stage at age 10. Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives The show’s new popularity among soldiers spurred the Armed Forces Radio Serviceto add the Grand Ole Opry to its overseas broadcast in 1943, transmitting the Opry’s weekly show to 306 outlets in 47 countries. By 1945, an AFRS station in Munich reported that Opry superstar Roy Acuff was more popular among its listeners than Frank Sinatra. The show even triumphed in the Pacific Theater, where famed war correspondent Ernie Pyle reported that during the Battle of Okinawa, Japanese troops were chanting, “To hell with Roosevelt, to hell with Babe Ruth, and to hell with Roy Acuff!”  In 1943, the Opry moved into the Ryman Auditorium, the city’s largest venue at the time. And still, the Saturday night showcase—featuring up-and-coming stars like Hank Williams and, later, Patsy Cline, Willie Nelson and Loretta Lynn—sold out each week. It wasn’t until 1974 that the Opry finally moved into its current home, the 4,440-seat Grand Ole Opry House.  Today, the Grand Ole Opry has spent nearly 100 years as a country tastemaker, elevating stars like George Jones, Garth Brooks, Johnny Cash and hundreds more. Thanks to this hardy institution, and contributions by crossover artists like Beyoncé, country music continues to dominate the streaming charts and in 2023 was declared the fastest-growing genre in popular music. As country singer and Opry member Brad Paisley put it, “Pilgrims travel to Jerusalem to see the Holy Land and the foundations of their faith. People go to Washington, D.C. to see the workings of government and the foundation of our country. And fans flock to Nashville to see the foundation of country music, the Grand Ole Opry.” Subscribe to Smithsonian magazine now for just This article is a selection from the June 2025 issue of Smithsonian magazine A Family Affair The Opry thrives on a network of stars invited to join its ranks. Here are four of the longest-serving members By Teddy BrokawBill Monroe — Member for 56 years Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives It’s often been said that if there were a Mount Rushmore of the Opry, Bill Monroe’s face would be featured. In 1938, the mandolinist formed the Blue Grass Boys, a group so essential in the development of the style that it would ultimately give the genre its name. So popular was the group’s music on the weekly radio program that the show’s manager once told Monroe, “If you ever leave the Opry, you’ll have to fire yourself!” Monroe, who died in 1996, helped launch the careers of other Opry legends like Flatt and Scruggs, and also inspired trailblazers far beyond the country music world: Elvis covered his “Blue Moon of Kentucky”; and Jerry Garcia traveled with Monroe’s tour before forming the Grateful Dead. Jeannie Seely — Member for 57 years Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives From the time she was tall enough to reach the dial of the family radio, Jeannie Seely had dreams of the Grand Ole Opry. After a series of hits in her signature “country soul” style, Seely was inducted into the Opry at age 27. She pushed its boundaries from the outset, helping to bring down the “gingham curtain”—the show’s requirement that female performers wear long dresses—by refusing to comply unless the rules were enforced on the audience as well. Seely repaid the Opry with a devotion that persists today, holding the record for appearances with over 5,000. When the Opry House flooded and waters destroyed Seely’s home in 2010, she still performed—in borrowed clothes. Loretta Lynn — Member for 60 years Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives For six decades, Loretta Lynn, the “Coal Miner’s Daughter,” constantly propelled the genre forward. Her hardscrabble upbringing in Kentucky, immortalized in her autobiography and its film version, seemed to drive her unapologetic approach to music. Hits like “The Pill,” which in 1975 stood as one of the first songs to tackle the use of birth control, nearly caused her to be banned from the Opry. A defiant Lynn played “The Pill” three times during one Opry show and told media, “If they hadn’t let me sing the song, I’d have told them to shove the Grand Ole Opry!” Lynn died in 2022. Bill Anderson — Member for 63 years Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives The longest-tenured member of the Opry, “Whispering Bill” Anderson began his adult life on an entirely different path, turning down an offer to attend the Chicago Cubs training camp as a pitching prospect to attend the University of Georgia. As a journalism student there, Anderson availed himself of a half-built college television studio to record “City Lights,” which quickly became a smash hit for country star Ray Price in 1958. Anderson followed that success with tracks of his own. Now in his seventh decade with the show, he still performs at the Opry and continues to release music. Lately, his biggest hits have come from collaborations with other artists, as with “Whiskey Lullaby,” a 2003 double-platinum hit co-written with Jon Randall for Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss.  Get the latest Travel & Culture stories in your inbox. #how #grand #ole #opry #put
    WWW.SMITHSONIANMAG.COM
    How the Grand Ole Opry Put Uniquely American Music at Center Stage
    How the Grand Ole Opry Put Uniquely American Music at Center Stage Through daring business decisions and an eye for talent, the vaunted country radio program still stands as a tastemaker for the fastest-growing genre in popular music Lindsay Kusiak June 2025 The Grand Ole Opry’s famous six-foot circle of wood was carefully carved from the previous stage at the Ryman Auditorium. The Grand Ole Opry On December 10, 1927, radio host George D. Hay announced the end of an hourlong opera program on Nashville’s WSM radio. Next up was the much more down-home Barn Dance. “For the past hour, we have been listening to the music taken largely from the Grand Opera,” Hay ad-libbed, “but from now on we will present the Grand Ole Opry.” It was an inadvertent and fateful christening for what would become a cultural institution and eventually the longest-running radio program in the country, introducing tens of millions of listeners to a distinctly American-born genre of music. As Hay playfully commented, the Opry offered a stark contrast to other highbrow programs populating the airwaves, swapping symphonies and arias for jaunty renditions of old Anglo-Celtic, European and African-American ballads played on the fiddle, banjo and guitar. It was hoedown music, or, as Hay lovingly called it, “hillbilly music,” and with a radio boom well underway, Hay had chosen an exceptionally propitious time to share it. Commercial radio fever swept the nation beginning in 1920, with more than 600 new stations emerging by the time the Opry premiered. But it was not the only barn dance on air, and Hay sought a way to make the show unique. He was known for his theatrical on-air persona, a mordant prude called “the Solemn Old Judge,” and he encouraged each new Opry band to adopt a comical homespun identity that would charm working-class listeners. In the process, he transformed bands like Dr. Humphrey Bate’s Augmented String Orchestra into the overall-clad Possum Hunters, and other groups into old-timey miners or clumsy farmhands. As the Great Depression began, Hay’s salt-of-the-earth approach charmed the audience, while WSM made several ingenious business decisions that shaped popular music forever. First, WSM did the unthinkable amid a hemorrhaging economy, investing a quarter of a million dollars—$5.8 million today—to build a new radio tower. It was the tallest in the country and one of only three 50,000-watt clear-channel towers in the United States. It allowed WSM’s broadcast to reach the whole nation. To bolster musicians, whose record sales were plummeting (down from $100 million in 1927 to a meager $6 million in 1932), WSM began sending bands on regional tours during the week, creating one of the country’s first talent agencies, the Artists Service Bureau. Soon, Opry stars were performing for as many as 12,000 people a day at schools or picnics Sunday through Friday, before hustling back to the Opry for their Saturday night radio gig.  In 1939, the Grand Ole Opry joined NBC’s radio network, transmitting the show to 125 stations. It wasn’t long before the Opry’s successes gained a big-time sponsor, R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company, maker of Camel cigarettes, which sponsored a USO-style tour starring several Opry stars. Called the Grand Ole Opry Camel Caravan, the troupe appeared exclusively for military members at bases throughout the U.S. and Central America during the summer of 1941, charming soldiers with toe-tapping hillbilly music and comedy from Minnie Pearl. A few months later, following Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor, millions of those same soldiers were now crooning the Opry’s songs on troopships and in overseas barracks as they deployed in World War II.  Dolly Parton, a member of the Grand Ole Opry for 56 years, first performed on its legendary stage at age 10. Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives The show’s new popularity among soldiers spurred the Armed Forces Radio Service (AFRS) to add the Grand Ole Opry to its overseas broadcast in 1943, transmitting the Opry’s weekly show to 306 outlets in 47 countries. By 1945, an AFRS station in Munich reported that Opry superstar Roy Acuff was more popular among its listeners than Frank Sinatra. The show even triumphed in the Pacific Theater, where famed war correspondent Ernie Pyle reported that during the Battle of Okinawa, Japanese troops were chanting, “To hell with Roosevelt, to hell with Babe Ruth, and to hell with Roy Acuff!”  In 1943, the Opry moved into the Ryman Auditorium, the city’s largest venue at the time. And still, the Saturday night showcase—featuring up-and-coming stars like Hank Williams and, later, Patsy Cline, Willie Nelson and Loretta Lynn—sold out each week. It wasn’t until 1974 that the Opry finally moved into its current home, the 4,440-seat Grand Ole Opry House.  Today, the Grand Ole Opry has spent nearly 100 years as a country tastemaker, elevating stars like George Jones, Garth Brooks, Johnny Cash and hundreds more. Thanks to this hardy institution, and contributions by crossover artists like Beyoncé, country music continues to dominate the streaming charts and in 2023 was declared the fastest-growing genre in popular music. As country singer and Opry member Brad Paisley put it, “Pilgrims travel to Jerusalem to see the Holy Land and the foundations of their faith. People go to Washington, D.C. to see the workings of government and the foundation of our country. And fans flock to Nashville to see the foundation of country music, the Grand Ole Opry.” Subscribe to Smithsonian magazine now for just $19.99 This article is a selection from the June 2025 issue of Smithsonian magazine A Family Affair The Opry thrives on a network of stars invited to join its ranks. Here are four of the longest-serving members By Teddy BrokawBill Monroe — Member for 56 years Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives It’s often been said that if there were a Mount Rushmore of the Opry, Bill Monroe’s face would be featured. In 1938, the mandolinist formed the Blue Grass Boys, a group so essential in the development of the style that it would ultimately give the genre its name. So popular was the group’s music on the weekly radio program that the show’s manager once told Monroe, “If you ever leave the Opry, you’ll have to fire yourself!” Monroe, who died in 1996, helped launch the careers of other Opry legends like Flatt and Scruggs, and also inspired trailblazers far beyond the country music world: Elvis covered his “Blue Moon of Kentucky”; and Jerry Garcia traveled with Monroe’s tour before forming the Grateful Dead. Jeannie Seely — Member for 57 years Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives From the time she was tall enough to reach the dial of the family radio, Jeannie Seely had dreams of the Grand Ole Opry. After a series of hits in her signature “country soul” style, Seely was inducted into the Opry at age 27. She pushed its boundaries from the outset, helping to bring down the “gingham curtain”—the show’s requirement that female performers wear long dresses—by refusing to comply unless the rules were enforced on the audience as well. Seely repaid the Opry with a devotion that persists today, holding the record for appearances with over 5,000. When the Opry House flooded and waters destroyed Seely’s home in 2010, she still performed—in borrowed clothes. Loretta Lynn — Member for 60 years Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives For six decades, Loretta Lynn, the “Coal Miner’s Daughter,” constantly propelled the genre forward. Her hardscrabble upbringing in Kentucky, immortalized in her autobiography and its film version (starring Sissy Spacek as Lynn in an Oscar-winning role), seemed to drive her unapologetic approach to music. Hits like “The Pill,” which in 1975 stood as one of the first songs to tackle the use of birth control, nearly caused her to be banned from the Opry. A defiant Lynn played “The Pill” three times during one Opry show and told media, “If they hadn’t let me sing the song, I’d have told them to shove the Grand Ole Opry!” Lynn died in 2022. Bill Anderson — Member for 63 years Courtesy of Grand Ole Opry Archives The longest-tenured member of the Opry, “Whispering Bill” Anderson began his adult life on an entirely different path, turning down an offer to attend the Chicago Cubs training camp as a pitching prospect to attend the University of Georgia. As a journalism student there, Anderson availed himself of a half-built college television studio to record “City Lights,” which quickly became a smash hit for country star Ray Price in 1958. Anderson followed that success with tracks of his own. Now in his seventh decade with the show, he still performs at the Opry and continues to release music. Lately, his biggest hits have come from collaborations with other artists, as with “Whiskey Lullaby,” a 2003 double-platinum hit co-written with Jon Randall for Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss.  Get the latest Travel & Culture stories in your inbox.
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  • Where to find Nightmare weapon skins in Doom: The Dark Age

    Nightmare skins are a type of weapon skin in Doom: The Dark Ages. By equipping them, you can customize your guns to look as cool as the killing sprees you perform with them — but you do have to find these skins first.

    Skins can be easily equipped in Doom: The Dark Ages by accessing the dossier and selecting the gun in your arsenal. Just press the command to open the skin selection screen and get one you enjoy the most. Nightmare skins are located on the map and indicated by the symbol of a brush. While it’s not tough to pinpoint their locations, reaching those locations is the true challenge.

    In this in-progress Doom: The Dark Ages guide, we’ll go over all Nightmare skins we’ve found so far.

    How to get all the Nightmare skins in Doom: The Dark Age

    Nightmare skins encompasses the weapon skins obtainable during the levels of the game as collectibles. Every weapon in the game has a corresponding Nightmare skin. While skins don’t add effect to your guns, making them stronger or better, they make them look cool. That’s all you probably need.

    Below, we’ll show you where to find all Nightmare skins we’ve found so far.

    Combat ShotgunThe first skin you get in the game is the Nightmare Combat Shotgun and it is located in the Village of Khalim, in the segment of the level after you have opened the gate using the blue key.

    You will need to clear the area by killing the enemies and closing the hell gates. After killing the initial group of enemies, go left while facing the giant statue and enter the first entrance. 

    There will be more enemies for you to face here. Clear the area and follow the only path accessible now. When you get into the corridor, the entrances will become blocked by a red wall. The only way to open them is to kill all the demons inside — as expected.

    When you get out of the corridor, you will be facing a portal. Turn right here and approach the edge. From there, you can see an entrance to the room where the skin is located.

    To reach it, you need to take some distance, run and press the jump button right as you approach the edge of the cliff.

    ShredderThe Shredder’s Nightmare skin is in the second level in the game, Hebeth. Make sure to progress in the main mission until you’re in the segment named “Defend Hebeth.”

    You eventually get inside a facility where you can see the brush symbol in a short corridor on a higher level on the map. By following the initial corridor, you reach a point where you must use the Shield Recall Jump to cross to the other side.

    On the other side, you will find a Sentinel Shrine. Climb the wall beside it and reach the next section. Look to your left to find a few boxes and an opened hatch above them. Since it has the yellow marks, it means you can climb it.

    Use the boxes to reach the hatch and enter a pathway in the upper level. Follow the trail of gold and it will lead you to an opening. Use it to access the room where the Shredder Nightmare skin is located!

    AcceleratorFinding the Accelerator’s Nightmare skin is pretty simple. Once you have unlocked Chapter 4 “Sentinel Barracks,” you should progress in the “Get to the Aratum” mission. Eventually, you will reach a square surrounded by some buildings with a tree in the center.

    From the path you came, look to the right side of the square and you will see the tallest building in the area. It has two large towers and an opening between them. The skin icon is already appearing on your map by the time you get near the building.

    Now, facing the building, go left and climb the stairs. They take ill to a group of survivors who are hiding. Behind them, the Nightmare skin is waiting for you.

    PulverizerPulverizer already has an interesting look, but if you want to pump it up, be sure to get its Nightmare Skin. You can find it in Chapter 5 “The Holy City of Aratum” right at the beginning of the mission.

    Get your dragon and fly to the center of the city. Then, descend to reach the lowest part of it where you will see a large circular structure surrounded by three pillars. There are two Titans protecting the place, so be sure to kill them. Otherwise, the landing spot won’t appear for you.

    Once you set foot in the central area, start by going to where there is a single enemy and a button on the ground. Now, jump from the edge next to the button to access the lower segment of the map.

    Turn left, enter a long corridor and keep following it to find the Pulverizer’s Nightmare skin.

    ImpalerThe Nightmare skin for the Impaler is found in Chapter 6 “Siege – Part 1”, which has a massive map and you can get lost pretty quickly. But before you can start thinking about heading to where the skin is located, you need to grab the Purple Key.

    Start your way from the initial gate and head forward. Be careful since there are lots of enemies. It won’t take long for you to see the large flying Purple Key indicating where they actual key is located. Just clear the area and grab it.

    Now, go back to the main gate and, while facing the battlefield, go to the left side of the map, following the arrows indicated on our map. You will reach an area with a small segment of the wall with yellow marks. Climb it and follow the small corridor.

    You will find an immense box in the center of the next room. Turn left to find a Purple Door. Since you already have the key, it will automatically unlock and you can go grab the Impaler’s Nightmare skin.

    Check back soon for more Nightmare skins in Doom: The Dark Ages!
    #where #find #nightmare #weapon #skins
    Where to find Nightmare weapon skins in Doom: The Dark Age
    Nightmare skins are a type of weapon skin in Doom: The Dark Ages. By equipping them, you can customize your guns to look as cool as the killing sprees you perform with them — but you do have to find these skins first. Skins can be easily equipped in Doom: The Dark Ages by accessing the dossier and selecting the gun in your arsenal. Just press the command to open the skin selection screen and get one you enjoy the most. Nightmare skins are located on the map and indicated by the symbol of a brush. While it’s not tough to pinpoint their locations, reaching those locations is the true challenge. In this in-progress Doom: The Dark Ages guide, we’ll go over all Nightmare skins we’ve found so far. How to get all the Nightmare skins in Doom: The Dark Age Nightmare skins encompasses the weapon skins obtainable during the levels of the game as collectibles. Every weapon in the game has a corresponding Nightmare skin. While skins don’t add effect to your guns, making them stronger or better, they make them look cool. That’s all you probably need. Below, we’ll show you where to find all Nightmare skins we’ve found so far. Combat ShotgunThe first skin you get in the game is the Nightmare Combat Shotgun and it is located in the Village of Khalim, in the segment of the level after you have opened the gate using the blue key. You will need to clear the area by killing the enemies and closing the hell gates. After killing the initial group of enemies, go left while facing the giant statue and enter the first entrance.  There will be more enemies for you to face here. Clear the area and follow the only path accessible now. When you get into the corridor, the entrances will become blocked by a red wall. The only way to open them is to kill all the demons inside — as expected. When you get out of the corridor, you will be facing a portal. Turn right here and approach the edge. From there, you can see an entrance to the room where the skin is located. To reach it, you need to take some distance, run and press the jump button right as you approach the edge of the cliff. ShredderThe Shredder’s Nightmare skin is in the second level in the game, Hebeth. Make sure to progress in the main mission until you’re in the segment named “Defend Hebeth.” You eventually get inside a facility where you can see the brush symbol in a short corridor on a higher level on the map. By following the initial corridor, you reach a point where you must use the Shield Recall Jump to cross to the other side. On the other side, you will find a Sentinel Shrine. Climb the wall beside it and reach the next section. Look to your left to find a few boxes and an opened hatch above them. Since it has the yellow marks, it means you can climb it. Use the boxes to reach the hatch and enter a pathway in the upper level. Follow the trail of gold and it will lead you to an opening. Use it to access the room where the Shredder Nightmare skin is located! AcceleratorFinding the Accelerator’s Nightmare skin is pretty simple. Once you have unlocked Chapter 4 “Sentinel Barracks,” you should progress in the “Get to the Aratum” mission. Eventually, you will reach a square surrounded by some buildings with a tree in the center. From the path you came, look to the right side of the square and you will see the tallest building in the area. It has two large towers and an opening between them. The skin icon is already appearing on your map by the time you get near the building. Now, facing the building, go left and climb the stairs. They take ill to a group of survivors who are hiding. Behind them, the Nightmare skin is waiting for you. PulverizerPulverizer already has an interesting look, but if you want to pump it up, be sure to get its Nightmare Skin. You can find it in Chapter 5 “The Holy City of Aratum” right at the beginning of the mission. Get your dragon and fly to the center of the city. Then, descend to reach the lowest part of it where you will see a large circular structure surrounded by three pillars. There are two Titans protecting the place, so be sure to kill them. Otherwise, the landing spot won’t appear for you. Once you set foot in the central area, start by going to where there is a single enemy and a button on the ground. Now, jump from the edge next to the button to access the lower segment of the map. Turn left, enter a long corridor and keep following it to find the Pulverizer’s Nightmare skin. ImpalerThe Nightmare skin for the Impaler is found in Chapter 6 “Siege – Part 1”, which has a massive map and you can get lost pretty quickly. But before you can start thinking about heading to where the skin is located, you need to grab the Purple Key. Start your way from the initial gate and head forward. Be careful since there are lots of enemies. It won’t take long for you to see the large flying Purple Key indicating where they actual key is located. Just clear the area and grab it. Now, go back to the main gate and, while facing the battlefield, go to the left side of the map, following the arrows indicated on our map. You will reach an area with a small segment of the wall with yellow marks. Climb it and follow the small corridor. You will find an immense box in the center of the next room. Turn left to find a Purple Door. Since you already have the key, it will automatically unlock and you can go grab the Impaler’s Nightmare skin. Check back soon for more Nightmare skins in Doom: The Dark Ages! #where #find #nightmare #weapon #skins
    WWW.POLYGON.COM
    Where to find Nightmare weapon skins in Doom: The Dark Age
    Nightmare skins are a type of weapon skin in Doom: The Dark Ages. By equipping them, you can customize your guns to look as cool as the killing sprees you perform with them — but you do have to find these skins first. Skins can be easily equipped in Doom: The Dark Ages by accessing the dossier and selecting the gun in your arsenal. Just press the command to open the skin selection screen and get one you enjoy the most. Nightmare skins are located on the map and indicated by the symbol of a brush. While it’s not tough to pinpoint their locations, reaching those locations is the true challenge. In this in-progress Doom: The Dark Ages guide, we’ll go over all Nightmare skins we’ve found so far. How to get all the Nightmare skins in Doom: The Dark Age Nightmare skins encompasses the weapon skins obtainable during the levels of the game as collectibles. Every weapon in the game has a corresponding Nightmare skin. While skins don’t add effect to your guns, making them stronger or better, they make them look cool. That’s all you probably need. Below, we’ll show you where to find all Nightmare skins we’ve found so far. Combat Shotgun (Village of Khalim) The first skin you get in the game is the Nightmare Combat Shotgun and it is located in the Village of Khalim, in the segment of the level after you have opened the gate using the blue key. You will need to clear the area by killing the enemies and closing the hell gates. After killing the initial group of enemies, go left while facing the giant statue and enter the first entrance.  There will be more enemies for you to face here. Clear the area and follow the only path accessible now. When you get into the corridor, the entrances will become blocked by a red wall. The only way to open them is to kill all the demons inside — as expected. When you get out of the corridor, you will be facing a portal. Turn right here and approach the edge. From there, you can see an entrance to the room where the skin is located. To reach it, you need to take some distance, run and press the jump button right as you approach the edge of the cliff. Shredder (Hebeth) The Shredder’s Nightmare skin is in the second level in the game, Hebeth. Make sure to progress in the main mission until you’re in the segment named “Defend Hebeth.” You eventually get inside a facility where you can see the brush symbol in a short corridor on a higher level on the map. By following the initial corridor, you reach a point where you must use the Shield Recall Jump to cross to the other side. On the other side, you will find a Sentinel Shrine. Climb the wall beside it and reach the next section. Look to your left to find a few boxes and an opened hatch above them. Since it has the yellow marks, it means you can climb it. Use the boxes to reach the hatch and enter a pathway in the upper level. Follow the trail of gold and it will lead you to an opening. Use it to access the room where the Shredder Nightmare skin is located! Accelerator (Sentinel Barracks) Finding the Accelerator’s Nightmare skin is pretty simple. Once you have unlocked Chapter 4 “Sentinel Barracks,” you should progress in the “Get to the Aratum” mission. Eventually, you will reach a square surrounded by some buildings with a tree in the center. From the path you came, look to the right side of the square and you will see the tallest building in the area. It has two large towers and an opening between them. The skin icon is already appearing on your map by the time you get near the building. Now, facing the building, go left and climb the stairs. They take ill to a group of survivors who are hiding. Behind them, the Nightmare skin is waiting for you. Pulverizer (The Holy City of Aratum) Pulverizer already has an interesting look, but if you want to pump it up, be sure to get its Nightmare Skin. You can find it in Chapter 5 “The Holy City of Aratum” right at the beginning of the mission. Get your dragon and fly to the center of the city. Then, descend to reach the lowest part of it where you will see a large circular structure surrounded by three pillars. There are two Titans protecting the place, so be sure to kill them. Otherwise, the landing spot won’t appear for you. Once you set foot in the central area, start by going to where there is a single enemy and a button on the ground. Now, jump from the edge next to the button to access the lower segment of the map. Turn left, enter a long corridor and keep following it to find the Pulverizer’s Nightmare skin. Impaler (Siege – Part 1) The Nightmare skin for the Impaler is found in Chapter 6 “Siege – Part 1”, which has a massive map and you can get lost pretty quickly. But before you can start thinking about heading to where the skin is located, you need to grab the Purple Key. Start your way from the initial gate and head forward. Be careful since there are lots of enemies. It won’t take long for you to see the large flying Purple Key indicating where they actual key is located. Just clear the area and grab it. Now, go back to the main gate and, while facing the battlefield, go to the left side of the map, following the arrows indicated on our map. You will reach an area with a small segment of the wall with yellow marks. Climb it and follow the small corridor. You will find an immense box in the center of the next room. Turn left to find a Purple Door. Since you already have the key, it will automatically unlock and you can go grab the Impaler’s Nightmare skin. Check back soon for more Nightmare skins in Doom: The Dark Ages!
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  • All weapons in Doom: The Dark Ages and how to get them

    You can easily kill a few demons in Doom: The Dark Ages with your hands, but as the Doom Slayer, you need all the firepower you can have. That’s where your weapons come in.

    Doom: The Dark Ages offers a considerable number of weapons to use, from the classic shotgun to a flail that gives this game its characteristic medieval flavor. You will find your favorites among them, but you should learn that each weapon responds to specific enemies’ weaknesses. Acquiring them and taking advantage of their strength is key to surviving in the fight against the demons.

    In this in-progress Doom: The Dark Ages guide, we’ll show you all the weapons in the game we’ve found so far — even the ones your giant robot uses — and how to make the best of them. 

    Doom: The Dark Ages weapons list

    In Doom: The Dark Ages, there are two types of weapons you can use when playing as the Doom Slayer.  The main arsenal is composed of guns and your shield, but also have your melee weapons, which are great for recovering ammo and finishing off enemies. And some weapons you only have access to when piloting Atlan, the demon-killer mecha. 

    You can only acquire a weapon by progressing in the main campaign. Below, you find a list of all the weapons in Doom: The Dark Ages we’ve found so far. Note that this guide is organized by the order in which you unlock them, with the chapter you gain each weapon in parentheses.

    Combat ShotgunPower GauntletShredderShield SawAcceleratorMachine Gun, for AtlanPulverizerImpalerCyclerSuper ShotgunFlailChainshotWith some exceptions, to get any of the guns in the game, you need to reach the chapter they are given and collect them from special pods that fall from the sky. Below, read on for details about how to get each weapon and how to best use it.

    Combat Shotgun

    You start the game with the Combat Shotgun as your only gun. By default, it can carry 20 bullets and is great in mid to close-range fights. Even in later chapters of the game, once you start upgrading it, the Combat Shotgun remains extremely useful. 

    Consider using the Combat Shotgun when you have to land massive damage on enemies due to having only short windows to attack them.

    Power Gauntlet

    As you advance to Chapter 1 “Village of Khalim,” you’ll acquire the Power Gauntlet, the first melee weapon in Doom: The Dark Ages. Once you have it, you can start punching enemies, who will drop ammo when hit for as long as you have melee stacks to spend.

    Although you can — and should — use the Power Gauntlet as much as you can, it works best if you perform the three-combo attack. To do so, you will need to hold three stacks, but it’s worth it! 

    Shredder

    The Shredder is a machine gun-like weapon — a fully automatic gun that shoots spikes. You get the Shredder in Chapter 1 “Village of Khalim” while you’re looking for the Demonic Portals to destroy them.

    Its shots aren’t as potent as the Combat Shotgun’s when taken individually, but since you can shoot lots of them quickly, you can shred enemies pretty fast whether they are close or far from you. Consider popping the Shredder when you want to daze them. 

    Shield Saw

    Even though your shield is basically a weapon from the first minute in Doom: The Dark Ages, it is only when you get the Shield Saw right at the beginning of Chapter 2 “Hebeth” that you unlock its full potential.

    The Shield Saw works as a long-range single shot, great for wiping stacks of weak enemies and exploding the superheated metal shields held by certain enemies. If you throw it at larger demons, it stuns them for a while and gives you the window to use all the other powerful weapons in your arsenal. It has great offensive potential and should take advantage of it.

    Accelerator

    The Accelerator is the second gun you get in Chapter 2 “Hebeth.” You find its pod while looking for the source of the demonic corruption in the “Defend Hebeth” mission. This quite futuristic-looking weapon stands out in the Medieval-inspired setting of Doom: The Dark Ages, but it is a strong tool to make your way through the armies from hell.

    You want to use the Accelerator especially when fighting armored enemies or those with shields, because plasma shots can superheat them faster than the other guns. It is the best tool to set up a shield throw to break the enemies’ defenses. 

    Atlan’s Machine Gun

    The normal attack mode of Atlan is based on using the robot’s massive hands to punch the big bad demons attacking you. However, in Chapter 3 “Barrier Core,” it’s when you get your hands on a double-cannon machine gun for your robot. 

    When using this weapon, you want to perform Perfect Dodges so you supercharge your gun. The barrels will turn blazing red and it will cause more damage. Unfortunately, it can be only used during specific moments in the campaign.

    Pulverizer

    You get the Pulverizer, one of the coolest and grimest guns in Doom: The Dark Ages, in Chapter 4 “Sentinel Barracks.” Right at the beginning of the chapter, it will be waiting for you in its pod. 

    The Pulverizer is a quite unique gun, since it crushes the skulls of demons to use as ammo. Because it shoots shards of bones in a wide arc, Pulverizer is the best gun to face groups of enemies. Just wait for the wave of demons to appear and start grinding skulls.

    Impaler

    As you get further into Chapter 4 “Sentinel Barracks,” looking for the Dragons Den, you receive the Impaler. This is your one-hand sniper. Aim well and take the shot to quickly finish off your target. It has less ammo than the other weapons, but each shot deals a lot of damage. 

    Since the Impaler is considered a Rail Spike type of weapon, it shares a slot with the Shredder. But when you use this gun, you want to go for headshots. During fights, it’s difficult to find the right moment to aim, but you can create that moment by stunning enemies. Then, all you need is one shot.

    Cycler

    The Cycler is the second Plasma weapon you get in the game. Like the Impaler, it shares the same slot with another gun. In this case, you change between the Accelerator and the Cycler. You will find it during Chapter 5 “The Holy City of Aratum” in one of the ships you need to destroy in the initial segment of the level.

    Like the Accelerator, the Cycler is great to use against shielded enemies and is perfect to explore the Energy Shields held by some enemies. This gun has a strong upgrade that applies Shock to enemies, a negative effect which makes enemies take more damage.

    Super Shotgun

    After you have faced the first Enforcer, you can get the Super Shotgun in Chapter 5 “The Holy City of Aratum.” The Super Shotgun is a short double barrel shotgun in the best The Terminator style capable of wiping whatever is in front of it.

    You want to swap from the Combat Shotgun to the Super Shotgun when you’re extremely close to enemies and want to maximize damage. Don’t even try to shoot enemies who are even a little bit far from you, because it will lose potency. The reload is excruciatingly slow so you want to be sure you’re going to hit the enemies. 

    Flail

    A flail might be the least expected weapon in Doom: The Dark Ages. However, behind its simple concept of being a heavy ball to hit enemies, the Flail is an extremely powerful melee weapon. For you to get the Flail, you need to play the beginning of Chapter 6 “Siege – Part 1.” Its pod will be waiting for you in front of a massive gate separating you from an army of demons. 

    Different from the Power Gauntlet, the Flail is a one-hit weapon. It recharges melee stacks slower than the other weapon, so you want to be mindful and take the most out of each swing. Flail is the go-to option when facing enemies with metal shields and against a group of enemies since it generates a small blast where it hits. 

    Chainshot

    Unlike the other weapons you have so far, the Chainshot is not in a pod or just waiting for you to be picked from a table. You need to complete a small puzzle in Chapter 6 “Siege – Part 1” as you go through the main mission of destroying the Gore Portals. 

    In one of the portals you enter — it is part of the main mission so you can’t miss it — you end up in a room with a pillar surrounded by an energy shield. Solve the puzzle to deactivate it and grab the Chainshot. This gun shoots its spheric core, which you can charge up to cause more damage. It’s a slow type of gun but works amazingly when trying to keep a safe distance from enemies.

    Check back soon for more weapons in Doom: The Dark Ages! 
    #all #weapons #doom #dark #ages
    All weapons in Doom: The Dark Ages and how to get them
    You can easily kill a few demons in Doom: The Dark Ages with your hands, but as the Doom Slayer, you need all the firepower you can have. That’s where your weapons come in. Doom: The Dark Ages offers a considerable number of weapons to use, from the classic shotgun to a flail that gives this game its characteristic medieval flavor. You will find your favorites among them, but you should learn that each weapon responds to specific enemies’ weaknesses. Acquiring them and taking advantage of their strength is key to surviving in the fight against the demons. In this in-progress Doom: The Dark Ages guide, we’ll show you all the weapons in the game we’ve found so far — even the ones your giant robot uses — and how to make the best of them.  Doom: The Dark Ages weapons list In Doom: The Dark Ages, there are two types of weapons you can use when playing as the Doom Slayer.  The main arsenal is composed of guns and your shield, but also have your melee weapons, which are great for recovering ammo and finishing off enemies. And some weapons you only have access to when piloting Atlan, the demon-killer mecha.  You can only acquire a weapon by progressing in the main campaign. Below, you find a list of all the weapons in Doom: The Dark Ages we’ve found so far. Note that this guide is organized by the order in which you unlock them, with the chapter you gain each weapon in parentheses. Combat ShotgunPower GauntletShredderShield SawAcceleratorMachine Gun, for AtlanPulverizerImpalerCyclerSuper ShotgunFlailChainshotWith some exceptions, to get any of the guns in the game, you need to reach the chapter they are given and collect them from special pods that fall from the sky. Below, read on for details about how to get each weapon and how to best use it. Combat Shotgun You start the game with the Combat Shotgun as your only gun. By default, it can carry 20 bullets and is great in mid to close-range fights. Even in later chapters of the game, once you start upgrading it, the Combat Shotgun remains extremely useful.  Consider using the Combat Shotgun when you have to land massive damage on enemies due to having only short windows to attack them. Power Gauntlet As you advance to Chapter 1 “Village of Khalim,” you’ll acquire the Power Gauntlet, the first melee weapon in Doom: The Dark Ages. Once you have it, you can start punching enemies, who will drop ammo when hit for as long as you have melee stacks to spend. Although you can — and should — use the Power Gauntlet as much as you can, it works best if you perform the three-combo attack. To do so, you will need to hold three stacks, but it’s worth it!  Shredder The Shredder is a machine gun-like weapon — a fully automatic gun that shoots spikes. You get the Shredder in Chapter 1 “Village of Khalim” while you’re looking for the Demonic Portals to destroy them. Its shots aren’t as potent as the Combat Shotgun’s when taken individually, but since you can shoot lots of them quickly, you can shred enemies pretty fast whether they are close or far from you. Consider popping the Shredder when you want to daze them.  Shield Saw Even though your shield is basically a weapon from the first minute in Doom: The Dark Ages, it is only when you get the Shield Saw right at the beginning of Chapter 2 “Hebeth” that you unlock its full potential. The Shield Saw works as a long-range single shot, great for wiping stacks of weak enemies and exploding the superheated metal shields held by certain enemies. If you throw it at larger demons, it stuns them for a while and gives you the window to use all the other powerful weapons in your arsenal. It has great offensive potential and should take advantage of it. Accelerator The Accelerator is the second gun you get in Chapter 2 “Hebeth.” You find its pod while looking for the source of the demonic corruption in the “Defend Hebeth” mission. This quite futuristic-looking weapon stands out in the Medieval-inspired setting of Doom: The Dark Ages, but it is a strong tool to make your way through the armies from hell. You want to use the Accelerator especially when fighting armored enemies or those with shields, because plasma shots can superheat them faster than the other guns. It is the best tool to set up a shield throw to break the enemies’ defenses.  Atlan’s Machine Gun The normal attack mode of Atlan is based on using the robot’s massive hands to punch the big bad demons attacking you. However, in Chapter 3 “Barrier Core,” it’s when you get your hands on a double-cannon machine gun for your robot.  When using this weapon, you want to perform Perfect Dodges so you supercharge your gun. The barrels will turn blazing red and it will cause more damage. Unfortunately, it can be only used during specific moments in the campaign. Pulverizer You get the Pulverizer, one of the coolest and grimest guns in Doom: The Dark Ages, in Chapter 4 “Sentinel Barracks.” Right at the beginning of the chapter, it will be waiting for you in its pod.  The Pulverizer is a quite unique gun, since it crushes the skulls of demons to use as ammo. Because it shoots shards of bones in a wide arc, Pulverizer is the best gun to face groups of enemies. Just wait for the wave of demons to appear and start grinding skulls. Impaler As you get further into Chapter 4 “Sentinel Barracks,” looking for the Dragons Den, you receive the Impaler. This is your one-hand sniper. Aim well and take the shot to quickly finish off your target. It has less ammo than the other weapons, but each shot deals a lot of damage.  Since the Impaler is considered a Rail Spike type of weapon, it shares a slot with the Shredder. But when you use this gun, you want to go for headshots. During fights, it’s difficult to find the right moment to aim, but you can create that moment by stunning enemies. Then, all you need is one shot. Cycler The Cycler is the second Plasma weapon you get in the game. Like the Impaler, it shares the same slot with another gun. In this case, you change between the Accelerator and the Cycler. You will find it during Chapter 5 “The Holy City of Aratum” in one of the ships you need to destroy in the initial segment of the level. Like the Accelerator, the Cycler is great to use against shielded enemies and is perfect to explore the Energy Shields held by some enemies. This gun has a strong upgrade that applies Shock to enemies, a negative effect which makes enemies take more damage. Super Shotgun After you have faced the first Enforcer, you can get the Super Shotgun in Chapter 5 “The Holy City of Aratum.” The Super Shotgun is a short double barrel shotgun in the best The Terminator style capable of wiping whatever is in front of it. You want to swap from the Combat Shotgun to the Super Shotgun when you’re extremely close to enemies and want to maximize damage. Don’t even try to shoot enemies who are even a little bit far from you, because it will lose potency. The reload is excruciatingly slow so you want to be sure you’re going to hit the enemies.  Flail A flail might be the least expected weapon in Doom: The Dark Ages. However, behind its simple concept of being a heavy ball to hit enemies, the Flail is an extremely powerful melee weapon. For you to get the Flail, you need to play the beginning of Chapter 6 “Siege – Part 1.” Its pod will be waiting for you in front of a massive gate separating you from an army of demons.  Different from the Power Gauntlet, the Flail is a one-hit weapon. It recharges melee stacks slower than the other weapon, so you want to be mindful and take the most out of each swing. Flail is the go-to option when facing enemies with metal shields and against a group of enemies since it generates a small blast where it hits.  Chainshot Unlike the other weapons you have so far, the Chainshot is not in a pod or just waiting for you to be picked from a table. You need to complete a small puzzle in Chapter 6 “Siege – Part 1” as you go through the main mission of destroying the Gore Portals.  In one of the portals you enter — it is part of the main mission so you can’t miss it — you end up in a room with a pillar surrounded by an energy shield. Solve the puzzle to deactivate it and grab the Chainshot. This gun shoots its spheric core, which you can charge up to cause more damage. It’s a slow type of gun but works amazingly when trying to keep a safe distance from enemies. Check back soon for more weapons in Doom: The Dark Ages!  #all #weapons #doom #dark #ages
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    All weapons in Doom: The Dark Ages and how to get them
    You can easily kill a few demons in Doom: The Dark Ages with your hands, but as the Doom Slayer, you need all the firepower you can have. That’s where your weapons come in. Doom: The Dark Ages offers a considerable number of weapons to use, from the classic shotgun to a flail that gives this game its characteristic medieval flavor. You will find your favorites among them, but you should learn that each weapon responds to specific enemies’ weaknesses. Acquiring them and taking advantage of their strength is key to surviving in the fight against the demons. In this in-progress Doom: The Dark Ages guide, we’ll show you all the weapons in the game we’ve found so far — even the ones your giant robot uses — and how to make the best of them.  Doom: The Dark Ages weapons list In Doom: The Dark Ages, there are two types of weapons you can use when playing as the Doom Slayer.  The main arsenal is composed of guns and your shield, but also have your melee weapons, which are great for recovering ammo and finishing off enemies. And some weapons you only have access to when piloting Atlan, the demon-killer mecha.  You can only acquire a weapon by progressing in the main campaign. Below, you find a list of all the weapons in Doom: The Dark Ages we’ve found so far. Note that this guide is organized by the order in which you unlock them, with the chapter you gain each weapon in parentheses. Combat Shotgun (Chapter 1) Power Gauntlet (Chapter 1) Shredder (Chapter 1) Shield Saw (Chapter 2) Accelerator (Chapter 2) Machine Gun, for Atlan (Chapter 3) Pulverizer (Chapter 4) Impaler (Chapter 4) Cycler (Chapter 5) Super Shotgun (Chapter 5) Flail (Chapter 6) Chainshot (Chapter 6) With some exceptions, to get any of the guns in the game, you need to reach the chapter they are given and collect them from special pods that fall from the sky. Below, read on for details about how to get each weapon and how to best use it. Combat Shotgun You start the game with the Combat Shotgun as your only gun. By default, it can carry 20 bullets and is great in mid to close-range fights. Even in later chapters of the game, once you start upgrading it, the Combat Shotgun remains extremely useful.  Consider using the Combat Shotgun when you have to land massive damage on enemies due to having only short windows to attack them (as happens when you’re fighting shielded leaders, for example). Power Gauntlet As you advance to Chapter 1 “Village of Khalim,” you’ll acquire the Power Gauntlet, the first melee weapon in Doom: The Dark Ages. Once you have it, you can start punching enemies, who will drop ammo when hit for as long as you have melee stacks to spend. Although you can — and should — use the Power Gauntlet as much as you can, it works best if you perform the three-combo attack. To do so, you will need to hold three stacks, but it’s worth it!  Shredder The Shredder is a machine gun-like weapon — a fully automatic gun that shoots spikes. You get the Shredder in Chapter 1 “Village of Khalim” while you’re looking for the Demonic Portals to destroy them. Its shots aren’t as potent as the Combat Shotgun’s when taken individually, but since you can shoot lots of them quickly, you can shred enemies pretty fast whether they are close or far from you. Consider popping the Shredder when you want to daze them.  Shield Saw Even though your shield is basically a weapon from the first minute in Doom: The Dark Ages, it is only when you get the Shield Saw right at the beginning of Chapter 2 “Hebeth” that you unlock its full potential. The Shield Saw works as a long-range single shot, great for wiping stacks of weak enemies and exploding the superheated metal shields held by certain enemies. If you throw it at larger demons, it stuns them for a while and gives you the window to use all the other powerful weapons in your arsenal. It has great offensive potential and should take advantage of it. Accelerator The Accelerator is the second gun you get in Chapter 2 “Hebeth.” You find its pod while looking for the source of the demonic corruption in the “Defend Hebeth” mission. This quite futuristic-looking weapon stands out in the Medieval-inspired setting of Doom: The Dark Ages, but it is a strong tool to make your way through the armies from hell. You want to use the Accelerator especially when fighting armored enemies or those with shields, because plasma shots can superheat them faster than the other guns. It is the best tool to set up a shield throw to break the enemies’ defenses.  Atlan’s Machine Gun The normal attack mode of Atlan is based on using the robot’s massive hands to punch the big bad demons attacking you. However, in Chapter 3 “Barrier Core,” it’s when you get your hands on a double-cannon machine gun for your robot.  When using this weapon, you want to perform Perfect Dodges so you supercharge your gun. The barrels will turn blazing red and it will cause more damage. Unfortunately, it can be only used during specific moments in the campaign. Pulverizer You get the Pulverizer, one of the coolest and grimest guns in Doom: The Dark Ages, in Chapter 4 “Sentinel Barracks.” Right at the beginning of the chapter, it will be waiting for you in its pod.  The Pulverizer is a quite unique gun, since it crushes the skulls of demons to use as ammo. Because it shoots shards of bones in a wide arc, Pulverizer is the best gun to face groups of enemies. Just wait for the wave of demons to appear and start grinding skulls. Impaler As you get further into Chapter 4 “Sentinel Barracks,” looking for the Dragons Den, you receive the Impaler. This is your one-hand sniper. Aim well and take the shot to quickly finish off your target. It has less ammo than the other weapons, but each shot deals a lot of damage.  Since the Impaler is considered a Rail Spike type of weapon, it shares a slot with the Shredder. But when you use this gun, you want to go for headshots. During fights, it’s difficult to find the right moment to aim, but you can create that moment by stunning enemies. Then, all you need is one shot. Cycler The Cycler is the second Plasma weapon you get in the game. Like the Impaler, it shares the same slot with another gun. In this case, you change between the Accelerator and the Cycler. You will find it during Chapter 5 “The Holy City of Aratum” in one of the ships you need to destroy in the initial segment of the level. Like the Accelerator, the Cycler is great to use against shielded enemies and is perfect to explore the Energy Shields held by some enemies. This gun has a strong upgrade that applies Shock to enemies, a negative effect which makes enemies take more damage. Super Shotgun After you have faced the first Enforcer, you can get the Super Shotgun in Chapter 5 “The Holy City of Aratum.” The Super Shotgun is a short double barrel shotgun in the best The Terminator style capable of wiping whatever is in front of it. You want to swap from the Combat Shotgun to the Super Shotgun when you’re extremely close to enemies and want to maximize damage. Don’t even try to shoot enemies who are even a little bit far from you, because it will lose potency. The reload is excruciatingly slow so you want to be sure you’re going to hit the enemies.  Flail A flail might be the least expected weapon in Doom: The Dark Ages. However, behind its simple concept of being a heavy ball to hit enemies, the Flail is an extremely powerful melee weapon. For you to get the Flail, you need to play the beginning of Chapter 6 “Siege – Part 1.” Its pod will be waiting for you in front of a massive gate separating you from an army of demons.  Different from the Power Gauntlet, the Flail is a one-hit weapon. It recharges melee stacks slower than the other weapon, so you want to be mindful and take the most out of each swing. Flail is the go-to option when facing enemies with metal shields and against a group of enemies since it generates a small blast where it hits.  Chainshot Unlike the other weapons you have so far, the Chainshot is not in a pod or just waiting for you to be picked from a table. You need to complete a small puzzle in Chapter 6 “Siege – Part 1” as you go through the main mission of destroying the Gore Portals.  In one of the portals you enter — it is part of the main mission so you can’t miss it — you end up in a room with a pillar surrounded by an energy shield. Solve the puzzle to deactivate it and grab the Chainshot. This gun shoots its spheric core, which you can charge up to cause more damage. It’s a slow type of gun but works amazingly when trying to keep a safe distance from enemies. Check back soon for more weapons in Doom: The Dark Ages! 
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  • Marcel Raymaekers (1933–)

    Part antiques dealer, part architect, this Belgian maverick is an unlikely source of lessons for contemporary material reuse
    Marcel Raymaekersnever qualified as an architect. This did not stop him from procuring the materials for, designing and building around 150 villas across Belgium. The exact number is unknown: Belgium’s architectural establishment mostly ignored and rejected Raymaekers just as he ignored and rejected them, and as a result his work has never been collated or taken seriously. Raymaekers himself never kept records of his work; he regarded the drawing board as a ‘torture device’, preferring sketches and improvisation on site, determined by the material batches he had to hand. The extent of Raymaekers’ oeuvre is also hard to fathom because he wanted to keep it under the radar of the tax authorities.
    They caught up with him eventually; he was bankrupted in 2014. Today, Raymaekers is a 92‑year‑old tenant living inside what was once his personal empire, Queen of the South, in the Limburg countryside in north‑western Belgium. This compound was – and to a limited extent, still is – a vast salvage yard packed with components scavenged from aggressive postwar demolition. This puzzling place, completed in 1972 but constantly expanded, is stuffed with billowing pitched roofs, impossible archways, numerous appendages and antechambers. In its heyday – the 1970s and ’80s – Queen of the South also had a nightclub, a restaurant, a jazz venue, Raymaekers’ own ultra‑luxe apartment, and an estaminet – a plush, wood‑panelled, banquet‑seated, mirror‑pillared café‑bar.
    Marcel Raymaekers was born in 1933 near Leuven in Belgium. In 1950, he enrolled to study architecture at the Sint-Lukas School in Brussels but left a year later without a degree. Though not officially an architect, Raymaekers proceeded to design around 150 projects, from suburban homes to hotels and music venues – in 1986, he completed the Orlando discotheque, which burned down in 2014
    Credit: Roger Dyckmans
    It was here that Raymaekers would sit – when he was not criss‑crossing Belgium scouting for materials – scoping out clients as they stumbled giddily into his world, overwhelmed by the aspiration and status anxiety that Queen of the South was designed to induce. The project was also a cultural hub attracting misfits and eccentrics, wheelers and dealers, experts and charlatans. The novelist Hugo Claus had his 50th birthday at Queen of the South, honouring Raymaekers in his speech. Raymaekers and his wife Hilde did interviews for newspapers, magazines and TV, often while reclining on their bed. The media was not interested in him as an accomplished architect, but as a purveyor of kitsch, an absurdity. 
    What Raymaekers had to sell his clients was more than simply antiques or even houses composed of them. What Raymaekers was really selling were dreams of nobility: the life of a lord and lady of the manor, set apartfrom an increasingly modernised, homogenised world. Sensuality and hedonism, expressed through haptic, resplendent materials, was a big part of the allure too – the promise of a new way of life. One of Raymaekers’ bigger projects was a love hotel, Rubensexclusief, near Diest, completed in 1979. Each chamber was bestowed with an excess of padded velvet upholstery, often creeping up the walls and curving onto the ceilings. In the lobby, a salvaged confession booth was intended as a hiding place for guilty parties. Raymaekers brought several clients here to celebrate a successful transaction or to introduce them to his material language before starting design negotiations.
    His clients were middle‑class professionals – teachers, dentists, entrepreneurs, doctors, engineers, florists, pharmacists. Wealthy, but not extraordinarily rich. Many of his houses allowed them to live and work – interfacing with the public – on the same property. House Kelchtermans from 1970, for example, designed with architect Jos Witters, is composed of three pyramids – a home, a doctor’s office and a garage – structured with reclaimed oak beams. The roof tiles were salvaged by the client himself, Dr Kelchtermans, who received tips on where to find them from his patients, many of whom were farmers whose buildings were undergoing modernisation or demolition. Inside, it is all split‑levels, enormous fireplaces and complex, spiralling spaces. But the house’s biggest flourish is the skylights: 23 cupolas from decommissioned Lockheed T‑33 fighter jet cockpits. Raymaekers had found them languishing in a salvage yard on the other side of Flanders, saw their architectural potential and persuaded the client to buy them.
    Client participation was everything. The Boncher family’s house, completed in 1984, is a mash‑up of components from a derelict slaughterhouse in the city of Tienen and an army barracks in Verviers. The Bonchers themselves spent weeks carefully dismantling the bricks, Gobertange white stone and fleur‑de‑lis roof tiles from the slaughterhouse. Raymaekers had the grand entrance and guardhouses from the barracks available in his stock at Queen of the South, probably at a time‑sensitive discount.
    Many of the construction and final design decisions for House Boncher were left to happenstance; as the contractors built the walls up row‑by‑row, whenever a hole was needed for a window, Raymaekers would decide the dimensions only at that moment, based on whatever blue limestone window frame he happened to have in stock. Occasionally, the masons had to deconstruct part of a wall if a larger‑than‑anticipated window became available. 
    ‘Raymaekers’ houses are intelligent, instinctive assemblages of unpredictable material streams’
    The interior, too, required improvisation. A white stone staircase, salvaged from a church pulpit, was meant to spiral up to the main bedroom of House Boncher but turned out to be about 200mm too short. The solution? Raymaekers and the contractors decided to build a hefty bump into the floor, consisting of cobbles and decorative tiling. It gave the staircase the necessary boost to reach up to the bedroom. It was typical of how designing exclusively with old materials required Raymaekers to empower and trust his contractors. Their design contributions, extemporisation and management of materials and how they might fit together were intrinsic to the realisation of every project.
    Working with large batches helped simplify matters – or allowed further complexity. When the Antwerp townhouse of art nouveau architect Joseph Bascourt was demolished to make way for the extension of a car park, Raymaekers snapped up the facade. Without knowing or caring how the pieces were originally composed, Raymaekers shuffled them into a new configuration for the facade of a flower shop a client had commissioned in the Brussels hinterland, completed in 1987. Raymaekers moved Bascourt’s decorative entablature from the top of the facade down to eye level, the better to be enjoyed; that this meant the windows on the top floor would now poke strangely above the roofline was fine with both Raymaekers and the client.
    The shreds of Raymaekers’ reputation that survive today, and what can be retrieved and reconstructed of his private and professional habits, are complex at best. His charisma and determination enabled him to convince artisans, contractors, labourers and clients to stretch themselves beyond what they thought possible, adding their own talent to his difficult buildings. But Raymaekers could also be intimidating and domineering. Collaborators often stepped away from his all‑consuming process; clients who considered him too pushy and found themselves running out of money could cease working with him. But this was not the case for his spouses, sons, grandchildren and daughters‑in‑law. They were bound to him by more than his business practice and art, and some of them suffered enduring and even unbearable distress. Their suffering is the shadow behind Raymaekers’ work.
    When researchers from Belgian design practice Rotor and the University of Ghent – also the authors of this article – started showing up at Queen of the South in 2011, it was not because of Raymaekers’ reputation; it was merely to include Queen of the South on Opalis’s database, a roster of salvage dealers covering much of north‑western Europe. We only realised the extent and importance of his work after several years and at least three visits. Raymaekers had refused all interviews since his bankruptcy, but after some persuasion, a meeting was scheduled in the courtyard on a grey winter day. Triggered by newspaper cuttings, his own limited archive of photographs and strolls through the stock, a picture emerged of the rich reuse ecosystem in which he was active in his glory days. It is this ecosystem, along with the remarkable and necessary fluidity of Raymaekers’ practice with old building materials, that was critical to his success. Belgium was blessed in the postwar period with a remarkably robust network of demolition contractors who were also salvage dealers, antiques dealers who were also designers, industrial scrapyards willing to let architects pick through their mountains of waste. The landscape was ripe for reuse. So was the legislative field.
    Raymaekers’ oeuvre could be mistaken, at a cursory glance, for just more Ugly Belgian Houses. His houses appear to be kitsch, chaotic, brazen, overstuffed with mixed metaphors. But they are much more than that. They are intelligent, instinctive assemblages of unpredictable material streams. They are bracing, never boring. And though they are wildly out‑of‑step with today’s tastes, the houses – and moreover, the kind of innovative practice that built them – have a lot to teach spatial practitioners about reusing architectural materials and circularity in the construction industry.
    And as with any of those so‑called ‘ugly’ Belgian houses, the label is a trivialisationof something systemic and generative. What makes possible such expressionistic and characterful suburban houses in Belgium – whatever one thinks of their quality – is government policy since the postwar era. While other European countries went all in on standardised social housing, in Belgium, the 1948 De Taeye Law offered construction grants and a state guarantee on mortgages, triggering families to initiate, help design and sometimes even execute the construction of their own homes, tapping into a rural tradition of self‑reliance.
    Raymaekers worked at a time when modernisation – and the demolition it demanded – was churning out a constant flow of antique materials. It was also a time when the merger and exchange of roles in the architectural process – from material procurement, to design and collaboration live on site – was still possible. Material reuse today is much harder. It must work precisely against the linear flows of extraction, capital, efficiency and predictability – all supercharged by the digital and its requirement of an almost omniscient predictability, and by increasingly demanding rules around compliance and liability. But to explore the wild potential of material reuse – not just to reduce embodied carbon, but to unleash new design potential and a richer culture around materialand practice – it must be possible to imagine ways in which material procurement, construction sites and the architects’ role can change fundamentally again. 

    Illustration: Laslo Antal for The Architectural Review. about the process of making this portrait here

    2025-05-15
    Justinien Tribillon

    Share

    AR May 2025CircularityBuy Now
    #marcel #raymaekers
    Marcel Raymaekers (1933–)
    Part antiques dealer, part architect, this Belgian maverick is an unlikely source of lessons for contemporary material reuse Marcel Raymaekersnever qualified as an architect. This did not stop him from procuring the materials for, designing and building around 150 villas across Belgium. The exact number is unknown: Belgium’s architectural establishment mostly ignored and rejected Raymaekers just as he ignored and rejected them, and as a result his work has never been collated or taken seriously. Raymaekers himself never kept records of his work; he regarded the drawing board as a ‘torture device’, preferring sketches and improvisation on site, determined by the material batches he had to hand. The extent of Raymaekers’ oeuvre is also hard to fathom because he wanted to keep it under the radar of the tax authorities. They caught up with him eventually; he was bankrupted in 2014. Today, Raymaekers is a 92‑year‑old tenant living inside what was once his personal empire, Queen of the South, in the Limburg countryside in north‑western Belgium. This compound was – and to a limited extent, still is – a vast salvage yard packed with components scavenged from aggressive postwar demolition. This puzzling place, completed in 1972 but constantly expanded, is stuffed with billowing pitched roofs, impossible archways, numerous appendages and antechambers. In its heyday – the 1970s and ’80s – Queen of the South also had a nightclub, a restaurant, a jazz venue, Raymaekers’ own ultra‑luxe apartment, and an estaminet – a plush, wood‑panelled, banquet‑seated, mirror‑pillared café‑bar. Marcel Raymaekers was born in 1933 near Leuven in Belgium. In 1950, he enrolled to study architecture at the Sint-Lukas School in Brussels but left a year later without a degree. Though not officially an architect, Raymaekers proceeded to design around 150 projects, from suburban homes to hotels and music venues – in 1986, he completed the Orlando discotheque, which burned down in 2014 Credit: Roger Dyckmans It was here that Raymaekers would sit – when he was not criss‑crossing Belgium scouting for materials – scoping out clients as they stumbled giddily into his world, overwhelmed by the aspiration and status anxiety that Queen of the South was designed to induce. The project was also a cultural hub attracting misfits and eccentrics, wheelers and dealers, experts and charlatans. The novelist Hugo Claus had his 50th birthday at Queen of the South, honouring Raymaekers in his speech. Raymaekers and his wife Hilde did interviews for newspapers, magazines and TV, often while reclining on their bed. The media was not interested in him as an accomplished architect, but as a purveyor of kitsch, an absurdity.  What Raymaekers had to sell his clients was more than simply antiques or even houses composed of them. What Raymaekers was really selling were dreams of nobility: the life of a lord and lady of the manor, set apartfrom an increasingly modernised, homogenised world. Sensuality and hedonism, expressed through haptic, resplendent materials, was a big part of the allure too – the promise of a new way of life. One of Raymaekers’ bigger projects was a love hotel, Rubensexclusief, near Diest, completed in 1979. Each chamber was bestowed with an excess of padded velvet upholstery, often creeping up the walls and curving onto the ceilings. In the lobby, a salvaged confession booth was intended as a hiding place for guilty parties. Raymaekers brought several clients here to celebrate a successful transaction or to introduce them to his material language before starting design negotiations. His clients were middle‑class professionals – teachers, dentists, entrepreneurs, doctors, engineers, florists, pharmacists. Wealthy, but not extraordinarily rich. Many of his houses allowed them to live and work – interfacing with the public – on the same property. House Kelchtermans from 1970, for example, designed with architect Jos Witters, is composed of three pyramids – a home, a doctor’s office and a garage – structured with reclaimed oak beams. The roof tiles were salvaged by the client himself, Dr Kelchtermans, who received tips on where to find them from his patients, many of whom were farmers whose buildings were undergoing modernisation or demolition. Inside, it is all split‑levels, enormous fireplaces and complex, spiralling spaces. But the house’s biggest flourish is the skylights: 23 cupolas from decommissioned Lockheed T‑33 fighter jet cockpits. Raymaekers had found them languishing in a salvage yard on the other side of Flanders, saw their architectural potential and persuaded the client to buy them. Client participation was everything. The Boncher family’s house, completed in 1984, is a mash‑up of components from a derelict slaughterhouse in the city of Tienen and an army barracks in Verviers. The Bonchers themselves spent weeks carefully dismantling the bricks, Gobertange white stone and fleur‑de‑lis roof tiles from the slaughterhouse. Raymaekers had the grand entrance and guardhouses from the barracks available in his stock at Queen of the South, probably at a time‑sensitive discount. Many of the construction and final design decisions for House Boncher were left to happenstance; as the contractors built the walls up row‑by‑row, whenever a hole was needed for a window, Raymaekers would decide the dimensions only at that moment, based on whatever blue limestone window frame he happened to have in stock. Occasionally, the masons had to deconstruct part of a wall if a larger‑than‑anticipated window became available.  ‘Raymaekers’ houses are intelligent, instinctive assemblages of unpredictable material streams’ The interior, too, required improvisation. A white stone staircase, salvaged from a church pulpit, was meant to spiral up to the main bedroom of House Boncher but turned out to be about 200mm too short. The solution? Raymaekers and the contractors decided to build a hefty bump into the floor, consisting of cobbles and decorative tiling. It gave the staircase the necessary boost to reach up to the bedroom. It was typical of how designing exclusively with old materials required Raymaekers to empower and trust his contractors. Their design contributions, extemporisation and management of materials and how they might fit together were intrinsic to the realisation of every project. Working with large batches helped simplify matters – or allowed further complexity. When the Antwerp townhouse of art nouveau architect Joseph Bascourt was demolished to make way for the extension of a car park, Raymaekers snapped up the facade. Without knowing or caring how the pieces were originally composed, Raymaekers shuffled them into a new configuration for the facade of a flower shop a client had commissioned in the Brussels hinterland, completed in 1987. Raymaekers moved Bascourt’s decorative entablature from the top of the facade down to eye level, the better to be enjoyed; that this meant the windows on the top floor would now poke strangely above the roofline was fine with both Raymaekers and the client. The shreds of Raymaekers’ reputation that survive today, and what can be retrieved and reconstructed of his private and professional habits, are complex at best. His charisma and determination enabled him to convince artisans, contractors, labourers and clients to stretch themselves beyond what they thought possible, adding their own talent to his difficult buildings. But Raymaekers could also be intimidating and domineering. Collaborators often stepped away from his all‑consuming process; clients who considered him too pushy and found themselves running out of money could cease working with him. But this was not the case for his spouses, sons, grandchildren and daughters‑in‑law. They were bound to him by more than his business practice and art, and some of them suffered enduring and even unbearable distress. Their suffering is the shadow behind Raymaekers’ work. When researchers from Belgian design practice Rotor and the University of Ghent – also the authors of this article – started showing up at Queen of the South in 2011, it was not because of Raymaekers’ reputation; it was merely to include Queen of the South on Opalis’s database, a roster of salvage dealers covering much of north‑western Europe. We only realised the extent and importance of his work after several years and at least three visits. Raymaekers had refused all interviews since his bankruptcy, but after some persuasion, a meeting was scheduled in the courtyard on a grey winter day. Triggered by newspaper cuttings, his own limited archive of photographs and strolls through the stock, a picture emerged of the rich reuse ecosystem in which he was active in his glory days. It is this ecosystem, along with the remarkable and necessary fluidity of Raymaekers’ practice with old building materials, that was critical to his success. Belgium was blessed in the postwar period with a remarkably robust network of demolition contractors who were also salvage dealers, antiques dealers who were also designers, industrial scrapyards willing to let architects pick through their mountains of waste. The landscape was ripe for reuse. So was the legislative field. Raymaekers’ oeuvre could be mistaken, at a cursory glance, for just more Ugly Belgian Houses. His houses appear to be kitsch, chaotic, brazen, overstuffed with mixed metaphors. But they are much more than that. They are intelligent, instinctive assemblages of unpredictable material streams. They are bracing, never boring. And though they are wildly out‑of‑step with today’s tastes, the houses – and moreover, the kind of innovative practice that built them – have a lot to teach spatial practitioners about reusing architectural materials and circularity in the construction industry. And as with any of those so‑called ‘ugly’ Belgian houses, the label is a trivialisationof something systemic and generative. What makes possible such expressionistic and characterful suburban houses in Belgium – whatever one thinks of their quality – is government policy since the postwar era. While other European countries went all in on standardised social housing, in Belgium, the 1948 De Taeye Law offered construction grants and a state guarantee on mortgages, triggering families to initiate, help design and sometimes even execute the construction of their own homes, tapping into a rural tradition of self‑reliance. Raymaekers worked at a time when modernisation – and the demolition it demanded – was churning out a constant flow of antique materials. It was also a time when the merger and exchange of roles in the architectural process – from material procurement, to design and collaboration live on site – was still possible. Material reuse today is much harder. It must work precisely against the linear flows of extraction, capital, efficiency and predictability – all supercharged by the digital and its requirement of an almost omniscient predictability, and by increasingly demanding rules around compliance and liability. But to explore the wild potential of material reuse – not just to reduce embodied carbon, but to unleash new design potential and a richer culture around materialand practice – it must be possible to imagine ways in which material procurement, construction sites and the architects’ role can change fundamentally again.  Illustration: Laslo Antal for The Architectural Review. about the process of making this portrait here 2025-05-15 Justinien Tribillon Share AR May 2025CircularityBuy Now #marcel #raymaekers
    WWW.ARCHITECTURAL-REVIEW.COM
    Marcel Raymaekers (1933–)
    Part antiques dealer, part architect, this Belgian maverick is an unlikely source of lessons for contemporary material reuse Marcel Raymaekers (1933–) never qualified as an architect. This did not stop him from procuring the materials for, designing and building around 150 villas across Belgium. The exact number is unknown: Belgium’s architectural establishment mostly ignored and rejected Raymaekers just as he ignored and rejected them, and as a result his work has never been collated or taken seriously. Raymaekers himself never kept records of his work; he regarded the drawing board as a ‘torture device’, preferring sketches and improvisation on site, determined by the material batches he had to hand. The extent of Raymaekers’ oeuvre is also hard to fathom because he wanted to keep it under the radar of the tax authorities. They caught up with him eventually; he was bankrupted in 2014. Today, Raymaekers is a 92‑year‑old tenant living inside what was once his personal empire, Queen of the South, in the Limburg countryside in north‑western Belgium. This compound was – and to a limited extent, still is – a vast salvage yard packed with components scavenged from aggressive postwar demolition. This puzzling place, completed in 1972 but constantly expanded, is stuffed with billowing pitched roofs, impossible archways, numerous appendages and antechambers. In its heyday – the 1970s and ’80s – Queen of the South also had a nightclub, a restaurant, a jazz venue, Raymaekers’ own ultra‑luxe apartment, and an estaminet – a plush, wood‑panelled, banquet‑seated, mirror‑pillared café‑bar. Marcel Raymaekers was born in 1933 near Leuven in Belgium. In 1950, he enrolled to study architecture at the Sint-Lukas School in Brussels but left a year later without a degree. Though not officially an architect, Raymaekers proceeded to design around 150 projects, from suburban homes to hotels and music venues – in 1986, he completed the Orlando discotheque, which burned down in 2014 Credit: Roger Dyckmans It was here that Raymaekers would sit – when he was not criss‑crossing Belgium scouting for materials – scoping out clients as they stumbled giddily into his world, overwhelmed by the aspiration and status anxiety that Queen of the South was designed to induce. The project was also a cultural hub attracting misfits and eccentrics, wheelers and dealers, experts and charlatans. The novelist Hugo Claus had his 50th birthday at Queen of the South, honouring Raymaekers in his speech. Raymaekers and his wife Hilde did interviews for newspapers, magazines and TV, often while reclining on their bed. The media was not interested in him as an accomplished architect, but as a purveyor of kitsch, an absurdity.  What Raymaekers had to sell his clients was more than simply antiques or even houses composed of them (buy enough materials and he would design you a house for no charge: that was always the deal). What Raymaekers was really selling were dreams of nobility: the life of a lord and lady of the manor, set apart (and above) from an increasingly modernised, homogenised world. Sensuality and hedonism, expressed through haptic, resplendent materials, was a big part of the allure too – the promise of a new way of life. One of Raymaekers’ bigger projects was a love hotel, Rubensexclusief, near Diest, completed in 1979. Each chamber was bestowed with an excess of padded velvet upholstery, often creeping up the walls and curving onto the ceilings. In the lobby, a salvaged confession booth was intended as a hiding place for guilty parties. Raymaekers brought several clients here to celebrate a successful transaction or to introduce them to his material language before starting design negotiations. His clients were middle‑class professionals – teachers, dentists, entrepreneurs, doctors, engineers, florists, pharmacists. Wealthy, but not extraordinarily rich. Many of his houses allowed them to live and work – interfacing with the public – on the same property. House Kelchtermans from 1970, for example, designed with architect Jos Witters, is composed of three pyramids – a home, a doctor’s office and a garage – structured with reclaimed oak beams. The roof tiles were salvaged by the client himself, Dr Kelchtermans, who received tips on where to find them from his patients, many of whom were farmers whose buildings were undergoing modernisation or demolition. Inside, it is all split‑levels, enormous fireplaces and complex, spiralling spaces. But the house’s biggest flourish is the skylights: 23 cupolas from decommissioned Lockheed T‑33 fighter jet cockpits. Raymaekers had found them languishing in a salvage yard on the other side of Flanders, saw their architectural potential and persuaded the client to buy them. Client participation was everything. The Boncher family’s house, completed in 1984, is a mash‑up of components from a derelict slaughterhouse in the city of Tienen and an army barracks in Verviers. The Bonchers themselves spent weeks carefully dismantling the bricks, Gobertange white stone and fleur‑de‑lis roof tiles from the slaughterhouse. Raymaekers had the grand entrance and guardhouses from the barracks available in his stock at Queen of the South, probably at a time‑sensitive discount. Many of the construction and final design decisions for House Boncher were left to happenstance; as the contractors built the walls up row‑by‑row, whenever a hole was needed for a window, Raymaekers would decide the dimensions only at that moment, based on whatever blue limestone window frame he happened to have in stock. Occasionally, the masons had to deconstruct part of a wall if a larger‑than‑anticipated window became available.  ‘Raymaekers’ houses are intelligent, instinctive assemblages of unpredictable material streams’ The interior, too, required improvisation. A white stone staircase, salvaged from a church pulpit, was meant to spiral up to the main bedroom of House Boncher but turned out to be about 200mm too short. The solution? Raymaekers and the contractors decided to build a hefty bump into the floor, consisting of cobbles and decorative tiling. It gave the staircase the necessary boost to reach up to the bedroom. It was typical of how designing exclusively with old materials required Raymaekers to empower and trust his contractors. Their design contributions, extemporisation and management of materials and how they might fit together were intrinsic to the realisation of every project. Working with large batches helped simplify matters – or allowed further complexity. When the Antwerp townhouse of art nouveau architect Joseph Bascourt was demolished to make way for the extension of a car park, Raymaekers snapped up the facade. Without knowing or caring how the pieces were originally composed, Raymaekers shuffled them into a new configuration for the facade of a flower shop a client had commissioned in the Brussels hinterland, completed in 1987. Raymaekers moved Bascourt’s decorative entablature from the top of the facade down to eye level, the better to be enjoyed; that this meant the windows on the top floor would now poke strangely above the roofline was fine with both Raymaekers and the client. The shreds of Raymaekers’ reputation that survive today, and what can be retrieved and reconstructed of his private and professional habits, are complex at best. His charisma and determination enabled him to convince artisans, contractors, labourers and clients to stretch themselves beyond what they thought possible, adding their own talent to his difficult buildings. But Raymaekers could also be intimidating and domineering. Collaborators often stepped away from his all‑consuming process; clients who considered him too pushy and found themselves running out of money could cease working with him. But this was not the case for his spouses, sons, grandchildren and daughters‑in‑law. They were bound to him by more than his business practice and art, and some of them suffered enduring and even unbearable distress. Their suffering is the shadow behind Raymaekers’ work. When researchers from Belgian design practice Rotor and the University of Ghent – also the authors of this article – started showing up at Queen of the South in 2011, it was not because of Raymaekers’ reputation; it was merely to include Queen of the South on Opalis’s database, a roster of salvage dealers covering much of north‑western Europe. We only realised the extent and importance of his work after several years and at least three visits. Raymaekers had refused all interviews since his bankruptcy, but after some persuasion, a meeting was scheduled in the courtyard on a grey winter day. Triggered by newspaper cuttings, his own limited archive of photographs and strolls through the stock, a picture emerged of the rich reuse ecosystem in which he was active in his glory days. It is this ecosystem, along with the remarkable and necessary fluidity of Raymaekers’ practice with old building materials, that was critical to his success. Belgium was blessed in the postwar period with a remarkably robust network of demolition contractors who were also salvage dealers, antiques dealers who were also designers, industrial scrapyards willing to let architects pick through their mountains of waste. The landscape was ripe for reuse. So was the legislative field. Raymaekers’ oeuvre could be mistaken, at a cursory glance, for just more Ugly Belgian Houses (several of them have indeed appeared on Hannes Coudenys’ infamous blog). His houses appear to be kitsch, chaotic, brazen, overstuffed with mixed metaphors. But they are much more than that. They are intelligent, instinctive assemblages of unpredictable material streams. They are bracing, never boring. And though they are wildly out‑of‑step with today’s tastes, the houses – and moreover, the kind of innovative practice that built them – have a lot to teach spatial practitioners about reusing architectural materials and circularity in the construction industry. And as with any of those so‑called ‘ugly’ Belgian houses, the label is a trivialisation (and an elitist one) of something systemic and generative. What makes possible such expressionistic and characterful suburban houses in Belgium – whatever one thinks of their quality – is government policy since the postwar era. While other European countries went all in on standardised social housing, in Belgium, the 1948 De Taeye Law offered construction grants and a state guarantee on mortgages, triggering families to initiate, help design and sometimes even execute the construction of their own homes, tapping into a rural tradition of self‑reliance. Raymaekers worked at a time when modernisation – and the demolition it demanded – was churning out a constant flow of antique materials. It was also a time when the merger and exchange of roles in the architectural process – from material procurement, to design and collaboration live on site – was still possible. Material reuse today is much harder. It must work precisely against the linear flows of extraction, capital, efficiency and predictability – all supercharged by the digital and its requirement of an almost omniscient predictability, and by increasingly demanding rules around compliance and liability. But to explore the wild potential of material reuse – not just to reduce embodied carbon, but to unleash new design potential and a richer culture around material (heritage) and practice – it must be possible to imagine ways in which material procurement, construction sites and the architects’ role can change fundamentally again.  Illustration: Laslo Antal for The Architectural Review. Read more about the process of making this portrait here 2025-05-15 Justinien Tribillon Share AR May 2025CircularityBuy Now
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