A few months ago, one of my old professors from architecture school -- Phu Hoang -- reached out to me through this blog. That's one of the benefits of writing publicly -- it becomes your calling card. In this case, it had been at least 16 years since I was in his design studio.

We connected over a call. He told me about his and Rachely's firm, MODU Architecture. And he let me know that he's no longer teaching at Penn. He is now the Head of Architecture of the Knowlton School at Ohio State University.

Then, following the call, he was kind enough to send me a copy of his new book, Field Guide to Indoor Urbanism:

The typical approach to modern building design is to have clearly defined boundaries between interior and exterior spaces. The outside is the outside. And the inside is a climate-controlled space that is, for the most part, sealed to the outside.

Most of us spend the vast majority of our lives in these latter spaces. In fact, since the advent of modernism and the International Style over a century ago, the general idea has been that these spaces can and should be mostly the same.

HVAC systems make it so that you don't really need to worry about context or the environment. What works in Toronto can work in Phoenix. You just need to dial up your cooling loads.

This is so much the case that whenever I'm in a city with a fairly benign climate, such as somewhere in California, I always find myself fascinated by the fluidity between interior and exterior spaces. It's such a foreign concept to me that it stands out: "Wait, how is this not sealed?

Indoor urbanism, on the other hand, makes the argument that this binary approach is the wrong way to think about spaces. Here's an excerpt from a recent Metropolis article about MODU:

They call this approach “indoor urbanism,” which privileges the blurred boundary between what has traditionally been considered interior space and exterior space. This in-between space–straddling open and closed, artificial and natural–deserves architects’ keen attention, especially as the planet warms. “Indoor urbanism recognizes that architecture and cities are situated on an environmental continuum, as a matter of degrees rather than absolutes,” write Hoang and Rotem in Field Guide.

Examples of this thinking can be found throughout their work. This project in Jackson, Wyoming is one of my favorites both because I love Jackson and because it's a cold and snowy place. And yet, even in this climate zone, their design includes for several "semi-exterior areas" that serve to connect you to nature.

This is a decidedly different way to think about architecture and urbanism. But as our climate crisis intensifies, it's only going to become more relevant.

It was pure luck, but we couldn't have timed this last week any better. It started snowing in the mountains around Salt Lake City on Tuesday, and it felt like it didn't stop until Saturday. On Wednesday morning, which was peak powder, the main resorts were reporting anywhere between 23" and 30" of fresh now. It was the stuff of magical dreams.

But snowfall is, of course, highly variable. SLC is having a record year, whereas many resorts in Europe weren't able to open until mid-January because of a lack of snow. And from a macro perspective, things are generally getting worse. According to this report, for every one degree increase in the world's average temperature, global snow cover is reduced by about 8%.

What this mean is that, even in low emission scenarios, many of the places that previously hosted the Winter Olympics, may struggle to do so again in the future because of "non-reliable" snow cover. Freestyle ski and snowboard, for example, typically wants a minimum of 1 meter of snowpack as a base, and sometimes more if melting is expected.

Things do not look positive for Vancouver, Garmisch-Partenkirchen, and even Chamonix in the below chart. (And as a further blow, the authors of the report also don't know how to spell Vancouver.) Naturally, this is something that you might want to consider when looking at long-term investments that are dependent on fresh snow.

You can, however, ignore Sochi in the above chart. Because this was never a great place for the Winter Olympics and it's unclear to me why this place was ever chosen (other than for presumably nefarious reasons). It's like: "We are one of the largest and coldest countries in the world. We have a lot of snow in Russia. But for fun, let's choose one of the few places with a sub-tropical climate."

Excluding Sochi, though, this is an alarming chart.

This is a fascinating little experiment:

From Oct. 12, 2020 to Jan. 3, 2021, Redfin ran an experiment on 17.5 million of its users across the US. As prospective homebuyers entered the site, Redfin assigned them randomly to either a group that was shown flood-risk information on each property or a group that was not.

The flood-risk scores came from First Street Foundation, a climate and technology nonprofit that works to make climate hazards more transparent to the public. In June 2020, First Street published the first public maps that revealed flood risk for every home and property in the contiguous US. 

First Street scores properties on a scale of 1 to 10 based on the likelihood that they will flood in the next 30 years (which is assumed to be a typical mortgage term). A score of 1 means the property has "minimal" risk and a score between 9-10 is considered "extreme" risk.

So what happens once you start showing people flood-risk information? They, not surprisingly, start systematically looking for safer properties. After one week of users being exposed to this new information, prospective buyers who were previously looking at "extreme" homes started looking at homes that were about 7% safer.

After 9 weeks, these same "extreme" home buyers were looking at properties that were about 25% less risky. And for some buyers, in particular those working with a Redfin agent or partner, their flood-risk tolerance dropped by over 50%. (Embedded in this data might be a sales pitch for working with a knowledgeable Redfin agent or partner).

Also interesting is the fact that below "severe" flood risk (a score between 7-8), there was very little change in behavior. "Major" flood risk, it would seem, isn't all that concerning to most buyers. It needs to be "severe". Nevertheless, it is noteworthy that people will in fact make behavioral changes when presented with clear climate-risk data.

A few months ago, one of my old professors from architecture school -- Phu Hoang -- reached out to me through this blog. That's one of the benefits of writing publicly -- it becomes your calling card. In this case, it had been at least 16 years since I was in his design studio.

We connected over a call. He told me about his and Rachely's firm, MODU Architecture. And he let me know that he's no longer teaching at Penn. He is now the Head of Architecture of the Knowlton School at Ohio State University.

Then, following the call, he was kind enough to send me a copy of his new book, Field Guide to Indoor Urbanism:

The typical approach to modern building design is to have clearly defined boundaries between interior and exterior spaces. The outside is the outside. And the inside is a climate-controlled space that is, for the most part, sealed to the outside.

Most of us spend the vast majority of our lives in these latter spaces. In fact, since the advent of modernism and the International Style over a century ago, the general idea has been that these spaces can and should be mostly the same.

HVAC systems make it so that you don't really need to worry about context or the environment. What works in Toronto can work in Phoenix. You just need to dial up your cooling loads.

This is so much the case that whenever I'm in a city with a fairly benign climate, such as somewhere in California, I always find myself fascinated by the fluidity between interior and exterior spaces. It's such a foreign concept to me that it stands out: "Wait, how is this not sealed?

Indoor urbanism, on the other hand, makes the argument that this binary approach is the wrong way to think about spaces. Here's an excerpt from a recent Metropolis article about MODU:

They call this approach “indoor urbanism,” which privileges the blurred boundary between what has traditionally been considered interior space and exterior space. This in-between space–straddling open and closed, artificial and natural–deserves architects’ keen attention, especially as the planet warms. “Indoor urbanism recognizes that architecture and cities are situated on an environmental continuum, as a matter of degrees rather than absolutes,” write Hoang and Rotem in Field Guide.

Examples of this thinking can be found throughout their work. This project in Jackson, Wyoming is one of my favorites both because I love Jackson and because it's a cold and snowy place. And yet, even in this climate zone, their design includes for several "semi-exterior areas" that serve to connect you to nature.

This is a decidedly different way to think about architecture and urbanism. But as our climate crisis intensifies, it's only going to become more relevant.

It was pure luck, but we couldn't have timed this last week any better. It started snowing in the mountains around Salt Lake City on Tuesday, and it felt like it didn't stop until Saturday. On Wednesday morning, which was peak powder, the main resorts were reporting anywhere between 23" and 30" of fresh now. It was the stuff of magical dreams.

But snowfall is, of course, highly variable. SLC is having a record year, whereas many resorts in Europe weren't able to open until mid-January because of a lack of snow. And from a macro perspective, things are generally getting worse. According to this report, for every one degree increase in the world's average temperature, global snow cover is reduced by about 8%.

What this mean is that, even in low emission scenarios, many of the places that previously hosted the Winter Olympics, may struggle to do so again in the future because of "non-reliable" snow cover. Freestyle ski and snowboard, for example, typically wants a minimum of 1 meter of snowpack as a base, and sometimes more if melting is expected.

Things do not look positive for Vancouver, Garmisch-Partenkirchen, and even Chamonix in the below chart. (And as a further blow, the authors of the report also don't know how to spell Vancouver.) Naturally, this is something that you might want to consider when looking at long-term investments that are dependent on fresh snow.

You can, however, ignore Sochi in the above chart. Because this was never a great place for the Winter Olympics and it's unclear to me why this place was ever chosen (other than for presumably nefarious reasons). It's like: "We are one of the largest and coldest countries in the world. We have a lot of snow in Russia. But for fun, let's choose one of the few places with a sub-tropical climate."

Excluding Sochi, though, this is an alarming chart.

This is a fascinating little experiment:

From Oct. 12, 2020 to Jan. 3, 2021, Redfin ran an experiment on 17.5 million of its users across the US. As prospective homebuyers entered the site, Redfin assigned them randomly to either a group that was shown flood-risk information on each property or a group that was not.

The flood-risk scores came from First Street Foundation, a climate and technology nonprofit that works to make climate hazards more transparent to the public. In June 2020, First Street published the first public maps that revealed flood risk for every home and property in the contiguous US. 

First Street scores properties on a scale of 1 to 10 based on the likelihood that they will flood in the next 30 years (which is assumed to be a typical mortgage term). A score of 1 means the property has "minimal" risk and a score between 9-10 is considered "extreme" risk.

So what happens once you start showing people flood-risk information? They, not surprisingly, start systematically looking for safer properties. After one week of users being exposed to this new information, prospective buyers who were previously looking at "extreme" homes started looking at homes that were about 7% safer.

After 9 weeks, these same "extreme" home buyers were looking at properties that were about 25% less risky. And for some buyers, in particular those working with a Redfin agent or partner, their flood-risk tolerance dropped by over 50%. (Embedded in this data might be a sales pitch for working with a knowledgeable Redfin agent or partner).

Also interesting is the fact that below "severe" flood risk (a score between 7-8), there was very little change in behavior. "Major" flood risk, it would seem, isn't all that concerning to most buyers. It needs to be "severe". Nevertheless, it is noteworthy that people will in fact make behavioral changes when presented with clear climate-risk data.