Posts by Neil Flanagan

But in 1977, it was the threat of Westover Place that was vexing locals. According to a September 25th, 1977 Washington Post article:

And to the north of this, adjacent to the 5-acre university parking lot, Kettler Brothers Inc., the giant development company that built Montgomery Village, has already cleared more than eight acres where 149 town houses will be constructed. Houses in this development, Westover Place, will sell from about $135,000.

In the article, entitled "Bulldozers at the Estates," Phil McCombs reports on arguments and characters not unlike the current fights over American University's expansion and other developments in the area. Just as before, opponents are appealing to a right of first arrival, but the article lays bare the hypocrisy in living in a development while fighting a development because it will have the same effects your house did. The rowhouses of Westover Place and similar developments paved over Northwest's last open spaces that seemed so essential to the "rural" character of piedmont Washington.

Similar to the opposition to the 1960 Tenley Library and the 1941 Sears Roebuck, an enormous to-do was made over the development and yet both became established elements of the community. At that time, however, the changes seemed signified the end of something unique. McCombs quotes the ANC3 Commissioner Polly Shackelton bemoaning the change:

"Here you have these fine established residential neighborhoods, which will be impacted with increased density and traffic and all kinds of things that really could be very damaging," she said. "I think in a way it's too bad we don't have a comprehensive plan."

She said that development of the Rockefeller estate, for example, "will be devastating because Foxhall Road is already crowded. With 100 new houses there, I don't know how we'll deal with it."

The problematic idea here is "establishment": that because a neighborhood has reached any level of development at all, it should be maintained as it is. Are the current residents who now enjoy this property more justified than their neighbors who lived there in 1977, or estate owners who lived there in 1917?

No, these developments were part of the gradual urbanization of rural estates with density that is more appropriate to a close-in area. In 1977, it was the end of estates, and now it is a shift away from suburban design. Planning should manage change, but we cannot presume to think that any section of a city is in its final state. This flux, and its resistance are the same as today as they were a generation ago.

The objections seem as new (and as stale) as ones thrown up on the Tenleytown listerv yesterday. Just as opponents of Douglas Development's proposal for the former Babe's Billiards site have argued, in 1977 "Area residents said they are concerned that students from the nearby university will team up in the apartment buildings—creating what one person called 'rabbit warrens.' There is also concern that parking space will be insufficient, or that residents of new developments will park in the streets rather than pay to park in areas provided by the developers."

But the city and its infrastructure have been able to adapt to the new houses and the new apartments. The Metro arrived at Tenleytown and Friendship Heights. Both of those neighborhoods have survived significant growth, and quality of life and environment has improved. Friendship Heights, in particular, remains extremely popular as a place to raise a family, even has it has grown more popular as a retail destination and apartment community.

Long-term residents recall the fight of the development of the Glover estate as quite heated, yet the predicted cataclysms never came to pass. Residents of newer developments have integrated into the community, enough to fight changes, at least. Why should we expect any of the dire predictions about AU's expansion to come to fruition?

Cross-posted at цarьchitect. A version of this post appeared in the November 15th, 2011 issue of the Northwest Current.

Creating a more pleasant route for non-motorized commuters is a good enough end, but for more casual enjoyment, it needs some other qualities. Iconic bridges tend to beautifully express directed motion from one end to another, but not the pauses and distractions of a stroll.

In a way, you create a long pedestrian-only space with no activating buildings. Without a mass of people, those spaces are alienating or unsafe.

Here are some examples that approach the concept differently.

London's Millennium Bridge is a very successful precedent. It's on the long end at 1250 feet, but it's roughly the same size as a Poplar Point Crossing would be. It is part of a pedestrian-only corridor that runs from St. Paul's Cathedral to the Tate Modern, two of the busiest tourist attractions in the world. You have great views of the City and St. Paul's, but it's not very wide and not a great place to linger. This best represents the standard connector bridge.

The foot bridge that joins Chicago's Millenium Park to Grant Park is more interesting, but less practical. In order to avoid imposing staircases, it runs at a slight incline over a serpentine course. Its relaxed experience of compressions and twists are meant more for casual strolling than a commute, but fits the park setting.

Prague's Charles Bridge offers both experience and connection. It's a little longer than the Millenium Bridge, but it's twice as wide. The space is much more habitable, with vendors hawking touristy schlock on half the space. It has some interesting features, including gateways on either end, refuges, and baroque statues lining the sides. In some ways, it's much more like a park allée than a bridge, where the inward space of the bridge is emphasized as much as the scenery around it.

There's also the precedent of putting buildings on a bridge. The Washington Business Journal recently reviewd some of the more famous unbuilt buildings in DC, in advance of an exhibit at the National Building Museum. Included in the accompanying slideshow is a bridge designed by Chloethiel Woodard Smith, based on Florence's Ponte Vecchio.

The Ponte Vecchio, like Old London Bridge, accrued shops and houses over the years, becoming indistinguishable from any other city street. Smith, an influential architect who designed some of Southwest's better buildings, proposed this bridge to cross from the Southwest Waterfront to East Potomac Park.

I don't know whether this would pass a modern environmental analysis, but the opportunity to put restaurants, fountains, or play structures out on the water could emulate the unique atmosphere of a pier, only without the dead end.

Lastly, one alternative would be to build a multi-modal bridge, but make the pedestrian facilities much nicer, with big sidewalks, slow speed limits, or maybe even a sensitive grade separation, like Basel's Dreirosenbrücke. Or, a solution like Jože Plečnik's Triple Bridge could be in order. In a set of three converging bridges, the pedestrian experience is considered primary, but light motoring traffic can use it as well.

These bridges show how it's worth applying some ingenuity to the development of the waterfront. The iconic bridge only takes a neighborhood so far. There has to be something else there. Maybe the model should start by looking at not only at good bridges, but also good streets that suit both commuting and for strolling.

If you have any other examples of bridges that provide great pedestrian experiences, please suggest them in the comments.

Cross-posted at цarьchitect.

To understand what I mean by interpretation, take a look at Machado & Silvetti's renovation of the Getty Villa. They combined the pragmatic need for an an entry stairway with architectural promenade that helps visitors understand the museum's curatorial approach.

Treating the 1970s replica of a roman villa as an object in a collection, stairs and pathways frame the building in a sequence that calls to mind an excavation. The stair gives visitors a lens with which to understand the building and clears their minds of the drive out to Malibu.

At Tenleytown, the preservation aspect should have the same approach. Rather than preserving the front of the campus as slice of DC's rural history, any new buildings should frame the old buildings in a way that heightens one's awareness of the area's history, which dates back to the tobacco plantations and and dirt farmers who worked the land before the streetcar suburbs.

By at least 1820, Dunblane House stood on the site, connected to what was then called Georgetown Pike by a long perpendicular driveway. In 1902, when the Sisters of Providence purchased the property for a women's college (Immaculata), they constructed Capital Hall and a chapel over that driveway.

Then, when the city was carving out Nebraska Avenue in the early 20th century, they designed it to intersect Wisconsin Avenue at the same spot where the Dunblane axis ends. Now, from the Dunblane site to Tenley Circle, we have a series of related buildings with a lot of history. But those buildings feel disconnected from the neighborhood.

A good redesign of the campus would link the neighborhood to the campus without diminishing the historic structures.In most projects, architects contrast new work through a difference of style. Here, the architects have an unequaled opportunity to explore the difference through urban design strategies.

Capital Hall is oriented towards Wisconsin Avenue, but it's hard to see the connection to Wisconsin Avenue for two reasons. The first is the lawn in front of the building, which distances Capital hall from its focus. The second is that none of the adjacent buildings are on the same axis. The residences on Nebraska are face that thoroughfare, while St. Anne's Church and the old convent on Yuma Street are aligned north-south on the city's grid.

I propose that the most effective way to contextualize the historic buildings is to heighten the sensation of contrast between the four axes at Tenley Circle by framing part of the frontal lawn with buildings. One would be aligned to Nebraska Avenue and the other to Yuma Street, with a staircase and plaza preserving line-of-sight between Capital Hall and the circle.

The plaza would serve as the badly needed front entrance, while focusing the view from Capital Hall to Tenley Circle. Wings that face Nebraska Ave. and Yuma St. would relate the campus to the city streets. The difference in orientation would allow for a poetic negotiation from the historic architecture to the contemporary, and from the work world to the academic one.

At the opposite end of the axis, AU should not have to keep the physical structure of Dunblane House, which does not have any merit for legal protection. However, AU should reinterpret the outlines, either another building or a garden feature, to anchor the axis and suggest an imprint of history.

AU's current plan misses a unique opportunity to interpret history through public space. The HPO's insistence that nothing can occlude Capital Hall will render that history as inaccessible the building itself. A different approach is necessary, one that lets us understand the past in relation to our needs and ideas. I believe that I have only scratched the surface of the tremendous architectural potential at the Tenley Campus.

It makes sense to move the law school to the Tenley campus. Most law school faculty and students live off campus and commute to the school from homes and jobs elsewhere in the city, making the site's accessibility a strong feature. In addition to the Metro, bus lines in eight directions link the circle to points all over Northwest DC. This level of accessibility will make it easy for students to attend classes without ever parking a car on local streets.

The law school should also benefit the community. The Tenley campus is near two functional but underdeveloped commercial strips on Wisconsin Avenue that have been struggling for years. An expanded campus would energize the South Tenley and Tenleytown strips by creating a bridge of activity between them where there is now just a narrow sidewalk and an empty field.

But as of July, the designs do not meet of the location's potential. AU asked the architects, SmithGroup, to mass the building in the footprints of the 1950s campus. Those objects relate to each other, but to the city or the local streets.

The worst consequence of this decision is the retention of the marginal green space between the main building and Tenley Circle. Instead of a place for people, the most visible and accessible part of the site becomes a large no-man's-land. At precisely the spot where the campus should best engage the city, it turns its back.

Around the sides, the site plan leaves even more empty shrub-filled spaces. AU has assured worried neighbors that these large setbacks will screen the bulk of new buildings, but they are a half-measure. As at East Campus, AU is trying to screen the buildings as a substitute for designing more attractive or exciting buildings. Here, the choice makes all of the perimeter conditions the same, front and back, and all relatively unproductive.

Moving the buildings to the front would let the designers consolidate the green space into useful parks at the rear of the site, rather than left as unused spaces on the fringe. It is completely contextual to have a larger building with strong streetwalls fronting the main street, with smaller structures set back on the side streets. This is how nearby blocks have developed, and how most blocks on Wisconsin are zoned.

SmithGroup's challenge at this site has been to lay out a plan that creates a campus environment internally, and that meets the neighborhood on one side and greets the city on the other. Their plan achieves a campus feel and blends into the neighborhood relatively well, but does not greet the city.

The campus needs an urban front, a kind of civic space where the main building meets Tenley Circle. One way to achieve that would be with a public staircase.

There are many precedents of public staircases connecting dense urban areas with campus environments, both grandiose and intimate. Columbia University's enormous cascading plaza does double duty as the main social location on campus and and as a threshold between the busy street and the academic campus above.

The smaller staircases at Chicago's Field Museum and New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art are great places to wait, socialize and watch: quintessential urban places.

And these don't have to be so grandiose. Polshek Partnership's entryway to the Brooklyn Museum includes two large stair-like seating areas with pragmatic ground-level access. Pioneer Courthouse Square in Portland is a more casual example of an urban stair.

Also out in the Pacific Northwest, the FDR Memorial's designer Lawrence Halprin designed two fascinating parks that reveal the natural environment and the experience of spaces on sites with significant slopes.

These are all great places to wait, socialize and people watch. They are quintessential urban spaces, and illustrate how clever architecture can connect an urban environment to a campus by a great front door.

AU's choice to locate the law school at Tenley Circle is an opportunity to dramatically improve the character of the neighborhood, leaving it more vibrant and green. To take advantage of this opportunity, AU needs to rethink the urban design of their site plan.

In part 2, I'll discuss the historic preservation issues about the proposed campus.

Cross-posted at цarьchitect.

All of the work the architects have done so far is difficult to judge because the documentation provided by the university is limited and filled with inconsistencies.

Take, for example, the main dormitory building on Nebraska Avenue, Building 1. In site plans presented to the Zoning Commission, the protrusion containing the stairs and common spaces is to the north of the building, but in the floor plans, those spaces are to the south. I can't tell which is accurate. Frustratingly, nearly all drawings are rendered in a faux-sketch style that fudges important details.

But there is enough content to see that the current design is flawed at a scale below the site. That same building along Nebraska Avenue (#1) runs as an extruded block - a slab - lengthwise against the street, routing pedestrians to the corner crosswalks.

To break up the monotony of the building, the architects jagged the building about halfway. This shift, however, has no relation to the rhythms of the main campus across the road. Instead, the design relates only to the driveway AU is trying to retain from the current parking lot.

Loosely tied to the streets, the slabs and boxes float in the site plan, generally aligned to each other but without any juxtaposition or inflection. They are only linked together along the southern edge of the campus, where buildings are used to hide students from Westover Place.

Elsewhere, gaps between buildings form simple cuts without any compression or release. Where the odd angles of Buildings 2 and 5 come close, the architects simply sliced off part of Building 5 to keep the distance from wall to wall consistent.

Within the campus, the internal courtyards do not relate too well the buildings that define them, particularly on the interior organization. In the dormitories, the bedrooms line hallways of varying lengths. The circulation and social spaces in each building cross the grain, protruding as glass boxes at arbitrary points. Considering that these volumes mark the dormitories' front doors, it's baffling that they have no relation to one another.

Along the perimeter, the slabs meet the streets unsuccessfully. At the café spot, a slim, continuous canopy is meant to add a human scale to a Starbucks. Instead, the uninterrupted ribbon just heightens the sensation of flatness.

Because the sidewalks are separated by a buffer, there is no experience of approaching the building head on, again exacerbating the flatness. The only relief from the slab is some halting ornamentation thrown around the buildings, and even that is still maddeningly flat.

The aesthetics are modernistic in their slipping proportional relationships, and they're traditionalistic in the formal quotations. However, it has neither the clear proportions of a good modernist building, nor the interconnected part-to-whole relationship of a building of Greco-roman classicism. You can see the design as a series of layers meant to soften the impact of the building: a "contextual" brick facade on a precast one on a glass volume.

The word is overused, but these buildings are pastiches: a jumble of appliqués to a mass designed in a fundamentally different way, like a Soviet housing block lovingly rendered in loose watercolor. None of the wit or polemic of Venturi's paper facades exissts when the only reason to so explicitly drape the building is to make it blend in halfheartedly.

At East Campus, style is window dressing, another kind of buffer against undesired effects. Hiding a poster of Bruce Lee with an errant molding. The students in the dorms seem to understand that the administration does not: that the best style is no style. The best design manifests itself as useful spaces and memorable buildings that stimulate the students as much as the curriculum does.

The design of public and communal spaces is part of the culture of AU, and they embody the values of the university.

American has been successful architecturally in its sustainable design. The school has maintained and grown its campus greenery and a significant arboretum, and has eliminated car traffic from the heart of campus. Hartman-Cox's Business School addition and William McDonough's SIS building are both exemplary in their design for energy use and environmentally friendly materials.

Additionally, the 2011 Plan goes further with its commitment to LEED Gold certification for all of the buildings on east campus and LEED Silver on the main campus buildings. By 2021, this level of sustainability will be standard, if not a necessary. Whether a building still has an endearing affect and whether it works well will remain an asset.

In the end, the main issue may not be the result of poor architects, but of a poor client. In meetings, AU's representatives have not expressed the cultural or political relevance of their building projects. Again and again, the emphasis is that nothing is changing, or at least, no one will notice it. The design reflects this attitude, and East Campus's proposed architecture is an architecture of desperate stasis at the expense of good design.

As part of a larger strategy for growth and consolidation of its school, American will replace a parking lot with six buildings of two to six stories, including 590 beds, a bookstore, admissions offices, classrooms, administrative spaces, as well as some retail. The benefits for AU have been argued over many times; I'll let AU speak for itself. But the benefits of the expansion to the neighborhood and the city are public business.

The new facilities will bring students out of neighborhoods. Currently, AU undergrads are spread out, with roughly 2,000 of 6,000 living off-campus. Some of those students do so by choice, but AU only has room to house 67% of its students. Many juniors and seniors have to look to the neighborhood for a place to live.

The East Campus would pull students from the neighborhood and the Tenley Campus. Better residential facilities would mean fewer students spread out in the neighborhood, fewer noise disruptions, and less of a demand for vehicular commuting.

That reduction in traffic is no small thing. The new facilities adjacent to the central campus mean fewer trips for students and faculty alike. AU is also reducing the total number of parking spaces on campus, and has promised to expand its existing transportation demand management program. Even so, AU's transportation study found that its users never contributed more than 12% of all traffic during rush hour.

The rest of the vehicles are commuters passing through the Ward Circle area. The three avenues in the area, Nebraska, New Mexico, and Massachusetts currently serve primarily as automobile routes. The new buildings offer the potential to reorient the circle for those who live and work in the area.

Rather than gnarling traffic, as opponents have insisted, the slight uptick in pedestrian activity caused by the new buildings will force drivers to pay better attention to their presence on this urban street. The potential for more stoplights and a redesigned circle opens the opportunity to reduce speeds and dangerous behavior, likewise making the area safer for residents of all ages.

Through commercial frontage and foot traffic, Nebraska Avenue would become a pleasant place for locals to enjoy. Leaving the interior of the campus for students, a commercial perimeter would become another node in the geography of Upper Northwest. It would never become as dense and vibrant as Bethesda, let alone Tenleytown, but as a tertiary urban center, it can merge into the neighborhood.

Finally, the scheme laid out in the university's plan continues to facilitate the economic activity of American and its affiliates, estimated at $415 million. Although academic institutions do not pay taxes for noncommercial properties, the Examiner reported last week that students and faculty bring money and talent to the area when they come to the region's universities. By building on its land efficiently, AU will be making an optimal contribution to the city and enlivening the streetscape through the benefits of density.

There are potential negatives, which AU needs to mitigate. However, in its effort to compromise on objections, AU has layered the new buildings in greenery and minimized certain urban features, compromising potential, while still not satisfying opponents' demands.

For example, a 40' buffer of greenery adjacent to Westover Place feathers the campus into the neighborhood, but it's not good on all four sides. Adding a similar barrier of impenetrable greenery along Nebraska Avenue will separate the campus and retail from the sidewalk. It requires creating a second, separated walkway that will reduce the very urban characteristic of unplanned interactions. It is no small leap to see this buffer as segregating the school from the city.

Worsening the Nebraska Avenue elevation, the most recent plans call for a roadway to be punched through building #1 to the interior campus. A roadway in that place would disrupt the crucial urban space at the sidewalk. Instead, the plans should return to the right-in, right-out entrance on Massachusetts Avenue presented in the March 18th Final Plan. This is similar to the one at Westover Place, the Berkshire, and other nearby driveways.

At the least, the university could build on their plans for the Mary Graydon Tunnel and design the proposed road as a woonerf, prioritizing pedestrians in a roadway that runs through what is the students' front yard.

Likewise, AU should not be advocating for a new actuated signal on Nebraska Avenue. Instead, it should build timed signals that guarantee AU students the opportunity to cross as frequently and in rhythm with the city's traffic.

A new stoplight, combined with the recommended changes to Ward Circle, would make the area safer than any phystical barrier by limiting the incentive to jaywalk. If a physical deterrent is necessary, planters between the street and the sidewalk should be sufficient, as at Bethesda Row.

Finally, the project should serve as a catalyst for alternative transportation in the area. Bike lanes on New Mexico Avenue would mean better safety and better quality of life for students and neighbors alike. On campus, the administration already promotes a progressive Transport Demand Management plan, with dedicated ZipCar spaces, Capitol Bikeshare, carpooling assistance, shuttles, and SmartBenefits. But without adequate facilities, the full benefits of cycling and bus transit will not be realized.

Smart Growth refers to planning that is appropriate not only at the local level, but across multiple scales: architectural, local, metropolitan, and regional. AU's expansion plan, which would consolidate students, tame traffic, and create a new node of community, works at the larger three scales. Where it fails is in the way that it addresses the street and human scale, compromising enormous potential for solutions that will please no one and will require remediation in the future.

The Zoning commission should endorse AU's 2011 Campus Plan with alterations at the architectural scale.

Housing AU's students poses problems for administrators and locals alike. The university currently has 6,124 undergraduate students, with only half students housed on-campus. The remaining half live in houses and apartment dispersed throughout the surrounding neighborhoods. Even on-campus housing is less than ideal. Students live in cramped triples and in the Berkshire apartment building.

Having students live in the surrounding neighborhoods causes complications and occasional conflicts. Among other things, some students drive to campus. Moving more students into walking distance will save energy, reduce needless traffic, and cut drunk driving. But more importantly, it may help diffuse tensions between locals and students.

AU is offering a variety of housing styles in their new buildings. Suites and apartment style living join most of the social benefits of group houses with the conveniences of dorms. Moreover, with nicer facilities and fewer cramped rooms, students will be even more inclined to live in university housing. Once they have rooms to party in, students have fewer reasons to form off-campus party houses and fewer reasons to negatively impact the neighborhood.

The new beds will benefit the community by themselves. The buildings that contain those beds and the campus surrounding them can also benefit all other residents of the DC area, through good design.

West of Ward Circle, university buildings will flank Nebraska avenue, opening up potential for a remarkable space that extends the original campus onto the new one. Already, he elimination of the ugly parking lots will improve the area. Good design would make it world-class.

With thoughtful space planning and attractive details, the campus can be a joy to inhabit and pleasant for non-students to pass through. It is possible to design to minimize light and noise pollution. As for density, the floor-area-ratio for the whole campus will only increase from 0.5 to 0.8. There will be plenty of park space left over.

Redesigning Nebraska is in the mutual interest of the city and the university. Nebraska connects American's campuses and it connects the school to the city. A boulevardized street with multiple pedestrian crossings, improved bicycle facilities, and a usable Ward Circle would transform Nebraska from a dull arterial to the great avenue planners imagined it would be.

The ANCs, neighborhood groups and the university need to work together to craft a plan that matches American University's needs with a refined implementation that benefits the community. Constructive dialogue, formal commitments, and community benefits will make an acceptable plan into one tat could be a model of academic planning.

The site has tremendous potential to make Upper Northwest more walkable and more sustainable. Moving the law school closer to the Tenleytown-AU metro station will reduce the net amount of traffic along Nebraska and Massachusetts Avenues. To get to the current law school building, students and faculty can either drive to the generous parking garage, or take the AU shuttle from Tenleytown.

That access to the Tenleytown metro is especially important to these law students, because most live outside the neighborhood and merely commute in for the school day. Likewise, the Immaculata campus sits right on several bus lines—and a potential streetcar line—that will receive efficiency improvements through TIGER Grants.

As a side benefit, the new school would put more foot traffic along the southern block of Tenleytown's retail area. The current shuttle buses isolates students from neighbors; the three-block walk down Wisconsin would put them face-to face on the main strip. The steady stream of students and faculty would patronize stores and restaurants and justify streetscape improvements that will make Tenleytown nicer for everyone.

On Nebraska Avenue, a well-designed campus would significantly improve the urban architecture of one of DC's monumental boulevards. Against the other streets, a good architect would be able to make the building disappear into the trees that line the perimeter of the campus. Because the university has no plans or even a design architect yet, the possibilities for integrating the school into the neighborhood are vast. The campus plan is the right opportunity to ask for them.

For all of the potential benefits, the College of Law could still hurt the neighborhood. American could ask for an introverted suburban campus and receive an eyesore and a traffic nightmare. The negotiation between the ANC and the university administration will allow for specific terms of approval to be stated. Design guidelines, operations requirements, and community benefits can be spelled out ahead of time to ensure that both sides gain from the construction and trust is not broken.

American University's plan is good at first glance. Whether it is good for the next fifty years will depend on how well residents and the university work together to make a lasting improvement to the city.

Cross posted on цarьchitect.

The front (north) façade is a beautiful composition of frosted glass formed into a curtain. From the side of practicality, the east-facing façade of the office wing is fenestrated and shaded reasonably well for actual daylighting instead of a glass sheet.

The architects fell into some contemporary tropes I dislike. Some of the lines are arbitrarily harsh and unanimated. The glass curtain in front ends bluntly at the roof slab. Likewise, the entrance doesn't stand out on a building that already doesn't address the street well.

Admittedly, it is a diplomatic building, so security concerns will cause designers to skew fortress-like and the surrounding neighborhood is hilly and wooded, full of detached mansions like the Hillwood. Given that, maybe disappearing into the environment is the best course here.

The grass roof slips the building into its site. And if it's not near public transit, it is near great bicycle resources. The shady Rock Creek trail is just feet from the entrance. If the Czechs get on the same bike bandwagon as the Danes and install some changing facilities (it's not clear from the published images if they have them), then it could be a pretty forward-thinking building.

Cross-posted at Цarьchitect. Hat tip to Dezeen.