Today was rather more action-packed than usual, work-wise. Concreting for a floor of a small building was scheduled to begin in the morning, and I went to check it out before they started pouring. This had been planned a few days in advance and I intended to go with my colleague Madhi, who also wanted to witness the construction process of a filler slab, a construction technique our studio has never utilised before.
A filler slab, as the name suggests, is a reinforced concrete slab that is filled with another material element – that is typically cheaper – to reduce the amount of concrete required, hence in theory reducing the overall costs. If done well it can look quite neat. In our case, the slab was filled with Hourdi Blocks; a longish cereal-box size hollow clay block.1
This technique has been used many times in Auroville before. Just last Sunday I was in an art studio with a filler slab ceiling that had used large terracotta pots as the filling members. Though, for some reason it was painted with a white-wash finish, instead of the warm terracotta being left bare. Not looking good. I imagine some crazed local artist throwing buckets of watered-down white acrylic paint to achieve the look, but not really achieving anything.
First task of the day I sent a quick email to the engineer, asking for some input into a steel beam to concrete column connection detail. Then, I raced out of the studio on my bicycle to the Matrimandir, to rendezvous with Madhi where he was checking over the works on the gardens which he is overseeing. Not a moment sooner after parking and locking my cycle, we are off towards the construction site.
Arriving, the first thing I did was explain to the contractor, Mohan, about the positioning of a new rainwater downpipe. From a professional outlook, it would appear odd to specify such an important detail, thirty minutes before the concrete is scheduled to be poured. And I cannot convince myself otherwise. It is a strange practice – making integral decisions on the fly to respond to issues that should have been easily preconceived. A habit that I try to avoid as much as possible but happens regardless, because I am not only representing my own work on the site, but that of others who’ve worked on the project and haven’t been diligent enough with their drawings. This dynamic is a new experience for me, one I must sometimes embrace to get on with the job. Let things be and go with the flow.
There was initially an issue with the filler slab regarding its depth, that was fortunately resolved by really pushing the limits of the slab’s thickness and the placement of the steel reinforcement. To make sure that such a questionable instance would not occur with the yet-to-be-built roof of this building (the fundamental element which must not leak), I redrafted the entire roof design, as its initial iteration appeared to be a guarantee document for leaks. Then a little back and forth email correspondence occurred between our studio and the structural engineer, Mr. NPC, (who is prone to overdesigning) in which we eventually came to a compromise with the steel beam sizes (they’re not too small nor not too big).
After some discussion while standing on the formwork, a decision was made regarding the downpipe and the builders spent the next hour or so manipulating the steel reinforcement to insert a 4” PVC downpipe. If I were the builders, I would be cursing me for making them change their splendid pucca work in the very last minute while the concrete mixer is all warmed up, ready to go.
Meanwhile, Mohan took Madhi and I to the Reception building under construction to discuss some details, like the storage cupboard and the electrical layout etc. The receptionist’s concrete countertop had been finished to a fine degree. Mohan stood behind it with our architectural drawings splayed open on the countertop, with us standing in front of it. I looked him in the eye and said ‘Mohan, I’d like the key to room number 3 please?’, he paused, puzzled for a moment before he smiled and said ‘come in here and check the switchboard placements’.
What occurred next was much more amusing but in a rather deadly serious tone, as Mohan proceeded to grill the electrician like a cheese tomato sandwich, over some easy-to-spot mistakes that he had laid at his boss’ feet. Getting verbally cut into pieces does not require one to know the language. Raised, heated tones and expressions are all that is needed to understand when shit has hit the fan. If I were to speak figuratively about the situation in a local South Indian context, it was like what an aruval does to a nungu. Mohan being the aruval, the electrician being the nungu.2
The issues that were at hand were a result of the electrician not thinking to check whether the doors would open onto where he had placed the switchboard boxes. Not a big deal for him to fix, just embarrassing that he must do it in the first place. I was quite pleased with the electrician’s attitude afterwards, as he was very persistent in having me check all the electrical elements so there would be no more grilling. I respect that. Fall and pick yourself back up.
All these little weird mistakes I am adamant to neutralise in the buildings that I have been working on in the last 9 months, as much as I conceivably/reasonably can. One unfailing method I have grasped to achieve great results is to discuss tricky construction details with the contractor from the very start of the design. As in Mohan’s case, he will provide a very practical/conventional way of doing things (though stuff you may not have been taught in your degree), and from there you can experiment and excel. Eat that fruit of wisdom of the ages when life offers it to you on a platter.
Mohan lastly took us to inspect the wooden handrail that I had designed. My first ‘architecture’ architectural detail that is being fabricated and completed very soon. I emphasise ‘architecture’ in the sense that this is the most ‘intimate’ design that I have created which is being crafted into reality. One shall remember it by touch as much as sight. By its firm grainy textured grip, as much as the gleam of its varnish. I will explain the actual details in depth some other time, but I must say that I was very impressed with the craftsmanship of the handrail, done by Mohan’s carpenters. Exactly what I had drawn – down to the millimetre – was sitting before me on the Cuddapah stone floor waiting to be varnished; at the residence next-door to our site that Mohan is also building (he’s using it as another base of operations, things are being thrown over the compound wall between the two sites all the time).
By now we had spent two hours at the site and had to leave. As Madhi was revving the motorbike, taking us out of the driveway, I looked back at the construction and spotted the electrician make a frantic wave. We stop, I hop off and proceed to double check over his [valid] concerns. No one wants to be grilled twice in one day.
Rise and rise again.
1. In a future post I will comment on whether our filler slab was actually a cheaper alternative to a conventional concrete slab. I should also note our studio got the idea to use these Hourdi Blocks from our March visit to the Isha Foundation, which had this material almost everywhere.
2. An Aruval (Tamil) is a bill-hooked blade. A Nungu (South India) is an Asian Palmyra Palm fruit; a native black coloured fruit, with white semi-transparent flesh and juice inside.