Homereading for Nea 611

Homereading for Nea 611

Text One

What makes an engineer 'good'?

It happened about a half a century ago. We were a team of about five or six engineers who were working in the same office for about 10 years. This gave us ample time to learn the capabilities and shortcomings of each of us. While some of us were regarded as better performers than others, it never crossed our minds to ask why.

One day, the company hired a young engineer who just graduated from a technical institute. During the introductions, the young man did not waste any time. After an exchange of names, he confronted everybody with the same question: "Tell me, what is the meaning of the expression 'good engineer'?"

This question caught us completely off guard. "Why is he bothering us with such a silly question?" we asked ourselves. However this young fellow was so persistent in his quest that gradually this question became the main topic of our conversations during lunchtime.

Many decades have passed since then. However, some of the arguments and opinions expressed during these conversations remain valid until this very day. Here are a few of them:

One engineer: "On my first day at the campus, I was told by my peers that a good engineer never makes any mistakes."

Another engineer: "Our professor used to say that if an engineer claims not to have ever made a mistake, it proves that he has never accomplished anything. To err is human. However, when a good engineer makes a mistake, he knows how to rectify it in the easiest, fastest, and least expensive way."

One engineer: "In our college, an individual who knew more was regarded as the better engineer."

Another engineer: "My former employer had a huge staff of engineers. Those who knew more than the others were not necessarily always the better performers. The best engineers turned out to be those individuals who knew best how to put their knowledge to practical use."

One engineer: "I believe that a good engineer is the one who is capable of coming up with a better solution to a given problem."

Another engineer: "Our professor used to say that a good engineer is the one who can come up with exactly the same solution as another, less qualified engineer. However, he accomplishes it for one cent less."

To a certain extent, all of these assertions contain a certain validity.

While it is impossible to eliminate errors completely, a good engineer will make fewer mistakes than the others. A good engineer also will find the best, fastest, easiest, and least expensive way to correct them.

More knowledge opens up more possibilities for the practicing engineer. But only if he knows how to put it to good, practical use.

The ultimate goal of an engineer is to design "a better mousetrap." However, such a design will be hardly of any practical value if its cost is considerably higher than customers are willing to pay.

I learned this from experience.

It happened at the beginning of World War II. At the time, I was residing in what was then a poorly developed country, which was under British rule. The war had practically cut us off from the rest of the world, so many entrepreneurs tried to develop many new products locally.

At that time, I was working as an assistant to a consulting engineer who specialized in designing special-duty machines. One day he got an order to design a machine to produce isolating plates from the stems of a cattail plant. The customer provided us with the principles of his idea, and also told us about the existence of certain potential problems for which we needed to wat 16116u2022q ch out.

At first sight, this seemed to be a simple, straightforward task. However, during the design work, we came across a problem that could be solved only by creating another problem.

After many fruitless attempts to solve this problem, my employer decided to sacrifice one feature for the benefit of the other. This same night, I conceived an idea, which provided a solution to the dilemma. The next day I told it to my employer. His response was, "NO."

I was shocked. I asked him: "Why? What is wrong with this idea?"

His reply was: "There is nothing wrong with your idea, but who will pay for it?" Afterward he explained to me that, while I came up with a workable idea, its implementation would be extremely expensive. This was it-how I learned the meaning of the expression "at the cost of one cent less."

Text Two

Killer views and steel that kills germs. This home has it all.

It has been called a clean house, a palace of steel, even a radical house. But, if you can read the framed print with Japanese calligraphy that hangs in one of the guest bathrooms, you'd discover its true name: Camino de Robles (Path of Oaks in Spanish).

The name refers to the more than 2,000 oak trees located on the 130-acre hillside property of HMC Board of Trustees member Edward Landry and his wife, Madeleine. With the native environment in mind, the couple worked with a nationally renowned architect and a pioneering steel manufacturer to create a home like no other.

When completed in October 2003, the 11,000-square-foot residence, bordering Rocky Peak State Park and Pioneer Park in Simi Valley, Calif., became the nation's first antimicrobial home. Dubbed the AK Steel Concept Home, it featured products made from carbon and stainless steels using coatings containing the AgIONT antimicrobial compound.

The idea of using steel meshed well with the Landry's desire to build a home they could enjoy in retirement that was virtually maintenance free. Their previous homes, including one in Northridge where they spent 31 years, had been plagued by earthquake damage, termites and the usual labor-intensive home improvement projects like sanding and painting. Termite fumigation in one home resulted in permanent asthma for Madeleine.

Fans of creative building design, the Landrys also wanted something architecturally significant. "Since it was going to be built in the new millennium, we wanted to use commercial materials that made sense in this new century," says Ed, a partner at the law firm of Musick, Peeler & Garrett in downtown Los Angeles. Madeleine, a homemaker and longtime volunteer and nonprofit fundraiser, adds, "We both felt it was such a spectacular piece of property, we wanted to do something really, really special."

The couple eventually chose architect and friend David Martin, a partner in the Los Angeles firm AC Martin, one of the first to design buildings with steel framing, which offers greater strength and lighter weight than traditional building materials. The Landrys showed Martin their carefully thought out floor plan. "We didn't want to have to turn a light on during the day," says Madeleine. "We wanted to see the outside wherever we were because it's so spectacular, and we wanted the minimum amount of maintenance because of our age."

Because of their philanthropic involvement, the home also had to be suitable for large events. Ed serves on the board of the Rancho Santa Ana Botanic Garden and the Theodore Payne Foundation, groups that work to preserve Southern California's native horticulture. Through association with these organizations, the couple was able to thoughtfully place their home where it would have the least environmental impact and carefully landscape their hillside with virtually all native plants. A drip system that includes about six miles of black tubing and 11,000 emitters irrigates them.

Taking into account the native environment, the hazards of living in the area (fire, mudslides and earthquakes), and the Landry's concerns, Martin created a design that pleased the Landrys as well as the judges of an architectural design competition. Before ground had been broken and permits finalized, the home won an award for design excellence from the American Institute of Architects, San Fernando Valley Chapter. This recognition caught the attention of AK Steel, a Middletown, Ohio, company that produces flat-rolled carbon, stainless and electrical steel products.

"They asked if they could come see the house," says Ed. "At that time, we had a model and it was ready to be built with a copper roof and other materials. AK Steel said they wanted to partner with us and supply us with some of their products. We thought, hell, we'd go along with that; we'd have a better house and better materials at a bargain price. But we insisted on complete design authority. We never changed a single thing other than the materials."

The already spectacular project reached epic proportions with the new project partner. AK Steel incorporated 200,000 pounds of steel, including 35,000 pounds coated with the antimicrobial compound. Additionally, manufacturers who used the anti-microbial steel in their products were invited to showcase them in the Landry home. State of the art appliances, ductwork, air handling equipment and architectural hardware add to the home's uniqueness.

Popular Science called the home a "Fire-resistant germ fighter" and The Baltimore Sun reported, "California family has palace of steel." The New York Times proclaimed it "Mr. Clean's Dream Home."

"We got a lot of crazy press on it," says Ed. "Locally, they called us the germophobes on the hill."

While the antimicrobial steel is a major feature of the home,  making it cleaner and earthquake-, fire- and termite-resistant, the Landrys would rather visitors notice the copious architectural details.

central piazza connected by a sweeping staircase to the home's main entrance, a three-story entryway with floating steel staircase and elevator, expansive decks that surround the home, a pool with infinity edge and sunset views, waterfalls, rock caves and an outdoor picnic area are all features the Landrys enjoy regularly. But, most spectacular, the Landrys point out, are panoramic views of the valley that can be seen from almost every room of the home.

"People will come in and won't even see any of that, and instead want to know about the germ-free toilet handle," remarks Ed, wryly.

Ed is quick to bring attention to the home's artistic side. Structural and cold-formed steel framing allowed the architect to  eliminate support beams thereby creating open spaces "with cathedral-like dimensions" that can be partitioned off to conserve energy. Window walls throughout the home are supported by stainless steel structural support columns and steel spider braces. Architectural elements like handrails, a trellis system, baffles on the front of the home and chimney caps are also made from stainless steel. The stainless steel roof, with integrated gutter and downspout system, is glare resistant, recyclable and need never be painted. Interior doors of Ed's design and some furniture and accessories are the only wood products to be found.

The sleek, modern and virtually germ-free nature of the home doesn't rule out comfort, practicality, and even fun. Martin designed the home using feng shui principles, and Madeleine says the results are tangible. "There's something wonderful to this house besides architecture," she says. "It's peaceful and wonderful."

Guests can enjoy the 1,600-square-foot, one-story guest house, connected to the main house by walkways and a piazza. It is wheelchair accessible and while used now for guests, Madeleine remarks that it was also designed for her and Ed should a smaller, more accessible space become necessary.

Ed, an avid cook, is particularly proud of the kitchen. Located in the front of the home, it features what he considers, the best view. The space features antimicrobial-coated steel on ceiling panels that are punctuated by skylights, which double as architectural features on the deck above. Surfaces and appliances are easy to clean and fingerprint resistant. "I have the pleasure of cooking with eight sinks, three dishwashers and two cooking ranges," says Ed, who has prepared the family's Christmas dinners for nearly 40 years.

The Landry's daughters, Monique and Lucette, and their families share their parent's enthusiasm for the home and its surroundings. Grandchildren have delighted in the Pooh Forest play area. Lucette, who works for the Getty Center, is building her own home on seven acres of the Landry's property.

The Landrys are used to a regular hub of activity on their property, from construction, to firemen setting up a command post in their central piazza during the 2003 Simi Valley fire (The fire, which destroyed 28 homes in the area, burned to the base of their outer, 15-foot perimeter concrete wall.), to the couple's almost weekly charity events. Madeleine has seven planned for this spring.

"We are caretakers of this wonderful space that God created," says Madeleine. "It's very special, and as many people should see it as possible."

Microbes Beware: How the AgION Compound Works

Silver ions are released from the compound, come in contact with microbes and the microbes are inhibited. Monovalent or ionic silver (silver with a +1 charge) has an affinity for sulfhydryl groups, joining with them and disrupting electron transfer and respiration in bacteria and other microbes. Other non-ionic forms of silver employ other, equally effective mechanisms, such as catalyzing the interaction of atomic oxygen (O) with the sulfhydryl group resulting in an OH molecule and a sulfur bond that prevents further respiration within the microbe.

The coating life is a function of the application and surface wear, but could average between 10 to 30 years depending on the thickness of the coating and the wear it receives.

The AgION antimicrobial compound is blended into an epoxy resin. The epoxy resin is applied to steel using a conventional coil coating process. The coating is available as a clear paint system, a tinted system or a fully pigmented system.

Text Three

Responses that Laurie Baker made to questions on himself and his philosophy and architecture

"Fortunately, I've never been cursed with a white-collar mentality and I see nothing degrading or infra dig in getting my hands and clothes dirty from physical work."

LAURENCE WILFRED BAKER built affordable dream homes for hundreds of people. He helped them sort out their "real needs", and most of his new clients and masons, workers and associates soon started calling him `Daddy' as he became their lifetime friend. The following are excerpts from a unique collection of lengthy responses to questions on himself and his philosophy and architecture, which Baker put down "in his beautiful handwriting, on yellow cut-waste newsprint paper" for Sundar Ramanathaiyer, who named the house that Baker built for him in Thiruvananthapuram `Bakerland'.

What were you doing in North India before you moved to the South?

Much the same as I do here in the South. While we were in the remote Himalayan region, my wife had her hospital; she was the doctor, surgeon, gynaecologist, etc. and I was the rest of the hospital staff. I was very much involved in all the hospital work - from sweeping and maintenance, to lab and dispensary work, nursing, acting as "theatre sister" and all the other operating theatre staff, midwife, anaesthetist, and so on. And of course I had to build our home and hospital - the hospital continuously growing as the years and the needs increased. When we eventually had other hospital help, I was able to do more architectural work. We opened our own schools and designed and built them, helped with others' house building. Occasionally, I went off down to the plains to design mainly hospitals, colleges, schools, libraries, ashrams - for example, I built the first psychiatric hospital in India and built the campus for the first Adult Literacy campaign in India.

What sort of buildings did you build in North India?

It is interesting that now, when anyone asks who this Laurie Baker is, they are told: he's that person who builds low-cost houses. But in fact I think my output of other buildings, factories, educational, medical, social and religious buildings, would in fact total up to far more square footage than my houses. And in my opinion, the achievement of reducing costs in most of these other spheres is much more difficult - mainly in persuading the clients that they needn't spend so much - and much more important too. Building houses is an individual matter and people can spend as much money as they want to - but public building is very often incredibly and stupidly wasteful and extravagant - and while you can talk and discuss with a man and his wife about their house needs and dreams, dealing with committees and government bodies and so on is much more of a headache.

If by "what sort of building?" you meant "what did they look like?", the answer is, somewhat in the indigenous style of wherever the buildings were, and of course, they were always shaped and influenced by local materials, topography, climate, people, and so on.

What are your sources of inspiration?

When anyone comes to me to design a building for them I first want to know who they are, what sort of people they are, what sort of a building they want, what they will do in the building, what the site is like and the weather, and so on. As all this data and information comes to me, the form of the building they hope for takes shape in my head, and I start putting it down on paper. I don't think I even start with any preconceived ideas - the real inspiration comes from the person and the place and the function to which they want to put the building to. I am also conditioned by all sorts of practical considerations - how big is the land, does it suffer from excessive weather (strong winds or rains), are there beautiful views from the site, are there other nearby buildings that I have to "live with", how much money is to be spent, and so on.

Then, naturally I'm concerned about surroundings that already have controlled their own pattern of buildings in the neighbourhood. The various styles of architecture are all the result of thousands of years of ordinary people trying to make buildings that keep out the rain and wind and sun by using whatever materials there were, lying around or growing in the place where they live. So I see what principles have developed over centuries - in other words, I see what has resulted in this particular area from their forefathers' study of local conditions and materials - and then apply these principles to what I want to do for my client. Sometimes, the local architecture is so beautiful and so apt that I feel it would be foolish and an affront to try and design in any other way.

So I don't think I've ever been inspired by what other architects have done but more by what ordinary craftsmen have created. By that I don't mean to say I dislike the work of other architects - much of their work I like and enjoy - but my point is that what they do is not what makes me want to build in a particular way or style - but what has slowly evolved empirically often gives me a great kick, and I want to be part of that continuing evolution or progression. The result is that what I build in Uttar Pradesh or in Gujarat or West Bengal are all different from each other and different from what I build in Kerala. I think probably this term that seems to be used, `a Baker style', is not correct because what Baker does varies from place to place. The so-called Baker style in Kerala is very different from the Baker style in Gujarat because the inspiration or the sources of inspiration are entirely different.

Wherever you build, you achieve cost-effectiveness and economy in your construction. How do you manage that?

The indigenous styles of architecture that I mentioned before are the proven demonstration of how to use local materials economically. The use of local materials is an example of economy because there are no transport costs. These styles show that people have discovered that there is a right way and a wrong way of putting materials together so that they are strong and durable. A wall, for example, is not necessarily stronger because it is thicker. The bonding together of a few stones is much stronger than the heaping together of a lot of stones.

Then, these days, we often do things `because it is done that way'. But often, times have changed, ways of living have changed, so often we do a lot of unnecessary things in building, which needn't have been done at all. So if something is not necessary, don't put it in. That immediately is an economy.

Only occasionally is really `new' material or `new' technique an economy. There is very little that is actually new - and when it is new, it is rarely cost-effective. So, one has to decide whether the advantages of using a new material are really a benefit worth the extra cost. If they are, well and good, but if, for your particular needs, they are not, then economise and don't use them.

In passing, I must also mention that `low cost' or `cost reduction' is not only concerning economy. Most modern building materials are manufactured articles (like burnt bricks or steel or glass or cement). Their respective costs are one important consideration but just as important is the question of how much energy (or fuel) was used in their manufacture.

What are the basic differences between modern concrete architecture and your architecture?

For one thing, I use as little concrete as possible. Modern concrete work displays a lot of concrete, both as a material and a system of construction, while I like to use local materials as much as possible and avoid as much concrete as possible. This obviously and inevitably makes our styles different from each other. I am rarely impressed by fashions but am very, very impressed by the solid lasting beauty and form of traditional architecture. I can see that if you are keen on geometry, the facade of a modern concrete skyscraper, made up of hundreds of identical concrete units, can interest you, while I marvel that people can live in, and use, endlessly identical units. To me, a tree is beautiful; no two trees are identical - I think this is incredible! All of us have two eyes, one nose, one mouth, one chin, two ears, yet, we are all different. To me this is even more incredible and fascinating, and in the same way, you can go to an old town or village and it obviously has a special style about it - yet every building is different, but it `agrees with' its neighbours.

S. GOPAKUMAR

Flats Baker built for slumdwellers in Thiruvananthapuram.

Then, of course, I don't like the idea of millions of people all trying to live in one place, so I don't see the real need for high-rise buildings to the extent we put them up these days. So, again, the results of my work are bound to be different from those of the modern concreters.

I also enjoy the look of building materials - especially the hand-made materials. Bricks to me are like faces. All of [them are made of] burnt mud, but they vary slightly in shape and colour. I think these small variations give tremendous character to a wall made of thousands of bricks, so I never dream of covering such a unique and characterful creation with plaster, which is mainly dull and characterless. I like the contrast of textures of brick, of stone, of concrete, of wood. I don't like such things to be painted all over with pink - or green, or even pink and green. Another thing is that I dislike facadism - the sides and backs of my buildings are just as interesting as the front. I don't like something special or something nice for the front only. The most important part of the house is the interior, where a family lives and express themselves - the interior of a hall or a church or an auditorium is far more important than the front, according to my way of thinking, so I don't take on a client only interested in making a show on the front. Whereas so many modern concrete structures are very much facades for show.

What is waste in construction and how can it be eliminated?

There are many types of waste. I've already told you about facades. I think they are one of type of waste - and the waste costs a lot of hard cash and energy. All these little fashions and gimmicks are only for looks and are not necessary. These days we can work out the desirable structural stability, on almost all materials - we have our data and our formulae, but we don't believe in the results these formulae give us. People add on a "factor of safety". Either the formula is wrong or unreliable, or else the user has no faith in it. Of course, we are told it is people who are unreliable - they will only use half the cement and sell the other half. The formulae I use, I believe in, and I make sure that the construction is done properly according to the formulae. Not to have faith is a waste. To support corruption and adulteration is also a waste.

What is `truth' in architecture?

We all know that this word `truth' is very difficult to define - and probably these days very few people want it to be defined!

Very roughly speaking, my `truth' ideas are equivalent to the old adage of calling a spade a spade - I like to call a brick wall a brick wall. I've already explained that I like materials. I like their individual looks, their own textures, I like the varieties - again a face is made of two eyes, one nose and one mouth idea. So, I see no good reason, for example, of building a brick wall and then covering it all over with a dull plaster or perhaps then colouring the plaster to make it "look nice". I think the bricks looked nice as they were! And, of course, I just think it is plain stupidity to build a brick wall, plaster it all over and then paint lines on it to make it look like a brick wall. I think it is equally untruthful to cover it all over with tiles shaped to look like bricks. Or another variation of untruthfulness is to plaster it and then paint it to look like marble!

Another example of a lie is the one I've already hinted at, by following the practice of facadism. Churches often put up marvellous fronts of great height and covered all over with this and that, while the real church behind this magnificent front is a little more than a miserable barn.

Quite apart from the whole business of truth and/or lies, the question I always want to ask people who like façadism in its different forms is who do you think you are impressing? We all automatically assess situations where a person (or persons) likes to appear to be something to everyone else but to himself, or at home, he is something quite different and, again, in actual fact he is known to be two-faced. In the same way, I think very few people are impressed or are taken in by the fancy front of a building - they know, or assume, that behind the building is little more than a pigsty.

One of Baker's sketches. "To produce the final drawing is a matter of an hour or so of tracing out what I have roughly worked out on scrap paper."

Why do you use varied shapes, circles and hexagons, while most conventional architects use squares, rectangles and straight lines?

I think I'm subconsciously often strongly influenced by nature, and much of nature's `structural work' is not straight or square. A tall reed of grass in a windy, wild terrain is a long cylinder or a hollow tube; tree trunks and stems of plants that carry fruit and leaves are usually cylindrical and not square. Curves are there to take stresses and strains and to stand up to all sorts of external forces. On top if it all, they look good and beautiful and are infinitely more elegant than straight lines of steel and concrete.

Shapes are also interesting and exciting, and some shapes are more economical than others. For example, the perimeter, or enclosing wall, of a square or rectangular space of, say, 100 square feet is longer than the circumference wall round a circle enclosing the same 100 square feet. But again, there is nothing in my thinking or planning that makes me use only a curve instead of a straight line. In general, I think the current international style of high-rise (and other) buildings tends to be cubist and angular - there is a preponderance of straight lines in plan and elevation. To me, it becomes unpleasant, for example, when a gentle, curving countryside is levelled off and straight roads are built and long straight rows of little square boxlike houses are put up. Another example of the charm of curves is found in the pleasure people express when they see an arch instead of a square lintel or beam.

You are an architect without an office!

You mustn't assume that because I don't have an office or staff that I think everyone should do likewise. First of all, I really enjoy my profession, that is, designing buildings. I have already explained that I feel it is essential and enjoyable to get to know my clients a nd try and work out what they want and put it on to paper so that it can be built. Personally, I cannot see how I can, or why I should, go through all that effort to see them and talk with them and discuss their way of life and see their site and so on and then tell a partner or junior to "do a plan". The plan and design and details all form themselves in my head as I talk and listen and see. To me it is very good fun to try and work out a good plan and design for people who have privately confessed to wanting all sorts of personal peculiarities in the design of their house or building!

Then, while I am working out the plan - the thickness of walls, the size of doors and windows, the shape of rooms and spaces, and so on - I have to draw them out more or less accurately, if roughly and sketchily. To produce the final drawing is a matter of an hour or so of tracing out what I have roughly worked out on scrap paper. In my rough plan, I don't put in all little details, and it is no effort to add these to the final tracing as I do it. So where, I often wonder, is the need for a junior or a draftsman or a tracer?

Another factor is that in order to build, I have to produce some very simple drawings to a given scale for the authorities. These are `main idea' drawings and not working drawings for the contractor or builders to know what to do when they start building. As I rarely use contractors but prefer to engage masons, carpenters, coolies, etc., whom I know and who regularly work with me, I don't need to do these endless working drawings because they all know how I like doors and grills and frames and brick bonds and how I don't like reinforced concrete lintels and beams, etc. So, actually, by working in this way, I eliminate middlemen; I eliminate an enormous amount of `drawing office work', and I have time and deliberately prefer to spend most of my time on the building site with the workers, and indeed, I really enjoy actually helping to build. Fortunately, I've never been cursed with a white-collar mentality and I see nothing degrading or infra dig in getting my hands and clothes dirty from physical work.

Again, please do understand that I don't, therefore, think that all architects should work in this way. I build in order to enjoy creating something that other people will want and enjoy. To belong to a profession or to have a title, or letters after my name, is completely irrelevant and not what I mean by `being an architect'. The more I can do this without the trappings of an office, the happier I am, and the more time I have for creating, the better.

Several young architects and masons are into the so-called Baker style. What advice do you have for them?

Mainly, I want them to understand why this so-called Baker style has come about - especially, it is in order that ordinary people can afford to build houses for themselves. Then, they must understand how cost reduction is achieved. Fancy brickwork or fancy shapes for rooms and buildings do NOT make a building Baker style. I think they must be consistent, that is, they should only think in terms of affordability, of suitability for the clients' needs, of being truthful and honest in their approach to design, and they should definitely not do anything merely to be showy or outstanding. I think that if they really believe in the right principles, they won't want to do big, impressive or expensive buildings. In our country today, we need to care for all our countrymen and to use our resources carefully. Any excesses, any wasteful or unnecessary use of materials, are a slap in the face to those who have no home and no hope of ever getting a home as long as we squander the wealth of our land.

Text Four

A House Made of What?

Straw Finds Niche as Eco-Friendly Building Material

If there is one thing that fairy tales tell us about civil engineering, it is not to build anything using dried-out stalks of grain. This is the First Little Pig's Law of Construction: Violate it, and a strong wind or heavy-breathing wolf will come along, and whoosh! You're standing on a bare slab.

Despite this warning, a few people in the Washington area have been building things -- walls, homes and even, good heavens, a school -- out of straw.

Such structures have straw instead of drywall and insulation, with dozens of bales stacked around the buildings' wood-and-metal skeletons. The bales are coated in hardened plaster, which keeps out water and fire and gives buildings a stucco look.

Some designers say straw is ideal for "green" building because it recycles farm waste and saves energy by keeping interiors cool. Last week, as workers were completing projects at a city building in Bowie and a school in College Park, straw-bale fans said the "Three Little Pigs" story had the whole thing wrong.

"There's no reason it can't work," said Peter Curtis, a member of the board at Friends Community School, whose almost-finished campus in College Park uses nearly 4,000 bales. "It just hasn't been adopted around here yet."

As unusual as they sound, straw buildings aren't a new idea. In the late 1800s, people in a particularly treeless corner of Nebraska began using straw and hay to make the prairie equivalent of an igloo: They stacked up bales and slapped on a roof.

Now, straw seems to be finding a new niche, nationally and locally. However, statistics are difficult to come by. The International Straw Bale Building Registry lists 538 projects nationwide, but the site says that might be a low estimate. Designers in the Washington area say that a handful of projects are done and that they're finding strong interest in building more.

"I have clients walk in and say, 'I want your house,' " said Bill Hutchins, a Takoma Park architect who used bales in an addition to his century-old bungalow. Hutchins painted the thick, adobe-like walls in dreamy earth tones and accented the house with natural wood, for a kind of hobbits-in-Santa Fe look.

"What I love about it, it's just so alive," he said, rubbing a wall in the TV room. Hutchins said he has built four projects in the mid-Atlantic with straw and has six on the drawing board.

The reason for the resurgence in straw construction is not a scarcity of lumber; wood is as close as the nearest Home Depot. Instead, the appeal comes from the material's environmental credentials. The green building movement has adopted "green roofs," which have plants that absorb storm runoff, and toilets that compost waste instead of flushing it. In straw-bale projects, the change is in a building's bones.

The straw that's used is a kind of farm leftover, the stalks left behind when such grains as wheat are harvested. Unlike hay, which is a different crop grown for animal feed, straw is used primarily for animal bedding. Usually, straw-bale builders say, there's more of it than anyone needs.

"We're consuming a waste product, basically," said Polly Bart, a straw-bale builder based in Butler, Md., north of Baltimore.

As she spoke, Bart was standing in the middle of one of the area's strangest-looking construction sites: a maintenance building for Bowie's parks and grounds department. On an elevated platform, a worker stuffed handfuls of straw into chinks between the bales. With bales piled up and loose stalks underfoot, the site looked as if a hayride might have crashed nearby.

The new building is part of a maintenance complex that will have several green features, including roof gardens and tubes that funnel sunlight into interior spaces. One part of the building is being made with straw; regular sheet metal is being used for the rest.

It's a demonstration," said Una Cooper, a Bowie city spokeswoman. "But this is new territory for us, so we have just two walls of it."

Friends Community School, which has 165 students in kindergarten through eighth grade, took an even bolder approach. The building's outside walls were filled in with straw bales -- again, used as insulation around the building's skeleton, not to hold up the roof.

Connie Belfiore, the school's interim leader, said green building fit the Quaker campus's focus on protecting the environment. And the walls, which are about 22 inches thick after the plaster is applied, will save money on heating and air conditioning.

But it's one thing to know all that and another to accept that your building is really being stuffed with straw.

"When we went to the site and we actually saw the straw bales there, upon an initial impression they looked like Halloween bales" or props for a fall carnival, Belfiore said. "And we said, 'We're really going to put up a building made of that?' "

They did. School starts Sept. 4. Expecting to give tours, school officials left a "truth window" in the front hall, where bales are visible through a cutout in the wall.

Even fans of straw say it has drawbacks as a building material. The thick walls take up a lot of space, and some projects won't fit on small lots. Because of the labor involved, a straw-bale wall can cost twice as much as a regular one, although some homeowners save money by doing some work themselves. And it can take time to convince building officials that a straw building meets code.

Then there are the cracks in the plaster. In some cases, homeowners have to seal them before rain or rodents get in. If moisture is trapped in the straw . . . well, that's bad.

"Then your walls will turn to compost," said Hutchins, the Takoma Park architect.

But straw builders say their structures are just as sturdy and fire-resistant as more conventional ones. In fact, they say, people really ought to be worried about places filled with such insubstantial materials as fiberglass and drywall.

"You see McMansions going up, and, I mean, talk about huffing and puffing and blowing your house down," said Bart, the builder on the Bowie project. "I mean, those things are made of nothing."