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Designing Stories : A Narrative-Driven Design Process for Architecture Lum, Theresa 2019-04

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DESIGNING STORIESA NARRATIVE-DRIVEN DESIGN PROCESS FOR ARCHITECTUREbyTHERESA LUMB.F.A., The University of British Columbia, 2012SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARCHITECTURE in THE FACULTY OF APPLIED SCIENCEUnder the supervision of: Leslie Van Duzer (Chair),  Sherry McKay, Caner Oktem, Margot Ready, Rafael Santa AnaWe accept this report as conforming to the required standard...............................................                ..............................................THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver)© Theresa Lum, April 2019Leslie Van Duzer Sherry McKayiAbstractThis thesis proposes that narrative can bring richness and depth to a architectural project, and that there are unexplored ways that narrative can be used in the design process. I suggest that drawing from the discipline of film production design, which is a process that is already centered on storytelling, can offer a new working method for architecture. Using production design as a template for the design process allows narrative to be the foundation of a design, creating a new lens through which to see storytelling in architecture.In production design, the script is the client – the design is completely centered on storytelling, with each design tool being used to help tell a story. Key to designing a film’s story is the process of world building. This process begins with the creation of mood and the development of characters, using tools such as colour, light, scale and pattern. In architecture, narrative is often used to frame a project or to describe how a project operates, but is not at the core of the design process, guiding the design decisions, as is the case with production design. Through an investigation into how the process of production design can be translated into an architectural project, this thesis expands the conversation between narrative and architecture, and the relationship between architecture and film. This project uses the production designer’s narrative tools – namely world building, mood and character – to weave multiple storylines through a site, allowing these stories to shape the design and shift the perception of the resulting built forms. The site chosen for this exploration is Cooper’s Green Park in Halfmoon Bay, British Columbia. In the following design process, I use the design of five architectural interventions to support three different stories, in a way that can be changeable from one narrative to the next. Through the architecture, this project creates moments that highlight the narratives’ story worlds – their mood and their characters. We experience and frame our lives in stories, and architecture will always be part of those stories. I believe it is worth exploring new ways of developing architecture through narrative.The abstract is a concise and accurate summary of the graduation project in paragraph form. It should identify the context that the project addresses, design strategies, and particular design decisions that were made. Limit to 350 words.iiTable of ContentsAbstract iList of Figures iiiAcknowledgment ixDedication xStatement of Thesis 1Part I: Thesis Framework 2Chapter 1 | Field of Inquiry 3Narrative Architecture 4Architecture & Film 6Film Production Design 7Summary  13Chapter 2 | Precedents 15Production Design 15Architecture, Film & Narrative 22Chapter 3 | Projected Approach 27Application of Production Design Techniques 27Chapter 4 | Site 34Part II: Design Project 44Chapter 5 | Design Process 45Building the Narratives 45Storyboarding 50Shaping the Interventions 57Chapter 6 | Design Results 65The Narratives 65Interventions 70Conclusion 82Bibliography 83iiiList of FiguresFigure 1. 4Bleeckere and Gerards’ description of metanarratives and ‘little stories.’Figure 2. 4Psarra’s description of conceptual and perceptual narrative. Figure 3. 5Bleeckere and Gerards describe narrative as existing in the relationship between space and time.Figure 4. 5Pallasmaa’s description of how visual narratives are created in film.Figure 5. 7Design methodology as described by K.K. BarrettFigure 6. 8Design methodology as described by Laurence Bennet (top), Perry Blake (upper middle), Donald Graham Burt (lower middle), Scott Chambliss (lower).Figure 7. 9Design methodology as described by Nathan Crowley (top), Alex Digerlando (middle upper), Darren Gilford (middle lower), David Gropman (lower).Figure 8. 10The production designer’s tools for mood and deceptionFigure 9. 12Two methods of production design: world-building and character-driven.Figure 10. 15Eve Stewart’s  design drawings for The King’s SpeechFigure 11. 16(top) Light in The King’s Speech (middle) Scale in The Dark Knight (bottom) Pattern in The ShiningFigure 12. 18The  use of colour as a design tool.Figure 13. 19(top) Architecture as the shell (middle) Production design with interiors to tell the story (bottom) Image from The Shape of WaterivFigure 14. 20Quality Cafe (Los Angeles) in four different films, creating four different moods. Images from (top) Ghost World, (middle upper) Million Dollar Baby, (middle lower) The Midnight Meat Train, (lower) Gone in Sixty Seconds.Figure 15. 21The Bradbury Building (Los Angeles): serving four different narratives..Images from (top)  Blade Runner, (middle) 500 Days of Summer, (bottom left) China Girl, (bottom right) The Artist.Figure 16. 23Selection from Bernard Tschumi’s The Manhattan TranscriptsFigure 17. 24The multiple narratives of Peter Zumthor and Louise Bourgeois’ Steilneset Memorial: the community, the burnings, the lost, the visitor.Figure 18. 25Drawings from Olsen Kundig’s The Odyssean Hand summer studio, using narratives from Homer’s Odyssey to transform Seattle.Figure 19. 28The characters of Queen Elizabeth Park, with a corresponding mood exploration.Figure 20. 29(top) Narratives of approach to the site, from the city or from the river. (bottom) Narratives of experience, from hospital confinement to a childhood playground.Figure 21. 30A selection of historical photographs from the Riverview Hospital site.Figure 22. 31Sketch of moods present in Cooper’s Green site.Figure 23. 32(top) Approach to the site by shíshálh canoe, 1880 (middle) Approach by steamship, 1930 (bottom) Approach by personal watercrafts, 1980Figure 24. 33(top)  The path to Cooper’s Green by boat or by car  (bottom) Cooper’s Green through the trees or from the waterFigure 25. 34Site context map from Vancouver to Halfmoon Bay, showing present day and 1920 routeFigure 26. 35European exploration: 1910 map of Welcome Pass, with a detail of the future Halfmoon Bay areavFigure 27. 36(top row) Redrooffs Resort, 1930’s-50’s Images from Steve Taylor and Sechelt Community Archives (bottom row)  Cooper’s Green Park, 2019Figure 28. 37The site conditions changing over a centuryFigure 29. 38Existing site conditions, with the historical Redrooffs Resort conditions notated (left)Figure 30. 39Clay model of Cooper's Green ParkFigure 31. 40Resort settlement: (top) Redrooffs Resort lodge, circa 1948 (middle) Postcard of Redrooffs island and wharf, circa 1924 (bottom left)  S.S. Selma traveling to Redrooffs, circa 1914 (bottom right) Postcard of Redrooffs store, circa 1914.Figure 32. 41(top) Redrooffs store and dance hall, late 1930’s (middle) Redrooffs Resort store, dock and dinghies, late 1930’s (bottom right) Postcard of Redrooffs cabins, circa 1937Figure 33. 42Current site conditions, photographs from the months of (top) April, (bottom left) June and (bottom right) December.Figure 34. 43Current site conditions, photographs from (left, bottom right) the Halfmoon Bay Country Fair and (top right) a wedding ceremonyFigure 35. 45Collage of historical departure and arrival narrativesFigure 36. 46Historical narratives of the site as verbsFigure 37. 48Collages representing the three narratives for the designFigure 38. 49Narrative paths through the five interventionsFigure 39. 50Storyboard iteration to develop the narrativesviFigure 40. 51Storyboard iteration to develop the interventionsFigure 41. 52Connect — storyboard developmentFigure 42. 53Offer — storyboard developmentFigure 43. 54Shelter — storyboard developmentFigure 44. 55Gather — storyboard developmentFigure 45. 56View — storyboard developmentFigure 46. 57Production design through world buildingFigure 47. 58World building for the narrativesFigure 48. 59Connect intervention, building on the narrativesFigure 49. 60Offer intervention, building on the narrativesFigure 50. 61Shelter intervention, building on the narrativesFigure 51. 62Gather intervention, building on the narrativesFigure 52. 63View intervention, building on the narrativesFigure 53. 65Final storyboards for the three narrativesFigure 54. 69Cooper’s Green context plan, with interventionsviiFigure 55. 70Site plan with three narrative pathsFigure 56. 71Site section with interventionsFigure 57. 71Story guidelines for the interventionsFigure 58. 72Connect storyboardsFigure 59. 73Connect sectionFigure 60. 73Connect planFigure 61. 74Offer storyboardsFigure 62. 75Offer sectionFigure 63. 75Offer planFigure 64. 76Shelter storyboardsFigure 65. 77Shelter sectionFigure 66. 77Shelter planFigure 67. 78Gather storyboardsFigure 68. 79Gather sectionFigure 69. 79Gather planviiiFigure 70. 80View storyboardsFigure 71. 81View sectionFigure 72. 81View planFigure 73. 82Photograph from the UBC SALA  Thesis Reviews, April 2019ixAcknowledgmentI thank my supervisor, Leslie Van Duzer, for her constant support, advice and investment in this thesis. It has also been a pleasure to work with my committee members, Caner Oktem, Margot Ready and Rafael Santa Ana. I thank them for the unwavering enthusiasm and insight they brought to each meeting. I also thank Sherry McKay for the guidance and wisdom she brought to the research and framing of this project. This thesis was also aided by a host of Halfmoon Bay community members — thank you to Steve Taylor, the Sunshine Coast Museum & Archives, the Sechelt Community Archives and Principle Architecture for helping me build a record of the site’s history and data. The support of the UBC libraries, through Architecture Librarian Paula Farrar, was also invaluable to my research. Lastly, the encouragement and assistance of my family and friends truly made this thesis possible. xDedicationTo every kind of storyteller that has crossed my path and captured my imagination. To my family, who raised me surrounded by stories and encouraged me to tell my own. To Steven, who day by day helps me become a better storyteller. 1Statement of ThesisNarrative is present in architecture and can bring richness and depth to a project, and there are unexplored ways that narrative can be used in the design process. Drawing from the discipline of film production design, which is a process that is already centered on storytelling, can offer a new working method for architecture. Using production design as a template for the design process allows narrative to be the foundation of a design, creating a new lens through which to see storytelling in architecture.2Part I: Thesis Framework3Chapter 1 | Field of InquiryThis thesis positions itself between the fields of architecture and film design, both within the context of narrative design. Narrative has long been part of architecture, as has the comparison between film and architecture. However, narrative is often only layered onto a completed architectural project, and likewise film is generally used as a comparison point, not as a generator of design. I believe film can bring a new way of looking at narrative within the architectural design process, providing new design methods through the practice of production design. Because production design is centered on the script, the design is centered on story, or narrative. Applying the production designer’s methodology, therefore, could produce an architecture that is equally centered on narrative throughout the design process. Narrative: having the form of a story or representing a storyProduction Design: the creation of the visual world of a filmTo investigate this proposition, this section (Field of Inquiry) will look at the existing conditions of the following three categories, and place the following investigation within them. 1. Narrative Architecture2. Architecture & Film3. Film Production DesignNarrative Architecture provides a background on the use of narrative within architecture, including a discussion of design techniques. Architecture & Film looks at how film has been applied to architecture in the past, and what the intention was for that comparison. Film Production Design provides an analysis of existing design techniques used by production designers, to be applied to the field of architecture in this thesis. 4Narrative ArchitectureIn Sylvain De Bleeckere and Sebastiaan Gerards’ book Narrative Architecture: A Designer’s Journey, the origin of the term ‘narrative architecture’ is traced back to the phrase ‘architecture parlante,’ first used in 1852, and first translated to ‘narrative architecture’ one hundred years later by Emil Kaufmann.1 I do not suggest, however, that either time period is when narrative began to be used in architecture; it predates the terminology. In Architecture and Narrative: the Formation of Space and Cultural Meaning, for example, Sophia Psarra discusses the narratives in John Soane’s house-museum, built throughout his lifetime in the early 19th century.2 Similarly, Sergei Eisenstein’s “Montage and Architecture” points to the use of narrative in the Acropolis of Athens and in St. Peter’s Basilica,3 both far predating a formal description of narrative’s use in architecture. Also tied to the discussion of architecture and narrative is the more recent emergence in the 1980’s of the ‘narrativist decade,’ as termed by theorist Martin Kreiswirth.4 During this time, the architectural group Narrative Architecture Today (NATO) formed in London. They explored spatial narrativity with a postmodern lens, and defined narrative in architecture as an active process by the viewer.5Bleeckere and Gerards suggest that there are different ways of looking at ‘narrativity’ and architecture, defined by either metanarratives or by ‘little stories,’ as introduced by philosopher Jean-Francois Lyotard.6 To define metanarratives, they describe how “A metanarrative accepts only its own narrative as the ultimate one and claims therefore a monopoly on all the little stories.“7 They argue that, in the present era, the ‘little stories’ are what count and that any authoritarian concept of style should not dominate narrative architecture.8 Psarra likewise categorizes the use of narrative in architecture into two categories—conceptual messages and perceptual experience. She describes the interrelation of the conceptual and perceptual as “how architecture is conceived in the abstract realm of formal and spatial relations, how it is perceived in the physical and social space of embodied experience, and how the conceptual and perceptual affect cultural content.”9 Diagrams I created to illustrate this concept, and also the aforementioned one from Bleeckere and Gerards, can be found in Figures 1 and 2 below. Scanned with CamScannerScanned with CamScannerFigure 1. Bleeckere and Gerards’ description of metanarratives and ‘little stories.’Figure 2. Psarra’s description of conceptual and perceptual narrative. new or reproduced knowledgenarrativeconfigurationsignificationconceptual messagesperceptual experience5Psarra also emphasizes space-time relationships as an instrument of narration and as a way of ordering experience,10 which is similar to Peter Zumthor’s suggestion that architecture is “the art of space and it is the art of time as well.”11 Zumthor does not explicitly talk about creating a narrative architecture in either of his publications, Thinking Architecture or Atmospheres: Architectural Environments, Surrounding Objects, but as the preceding quote demonstrates, ideas of narrative are present in his work, through perception, memory, material and atmosphere.Zumthor hints at narrative when he discusses the creation of spatial atmospheres and their relationship to film, describing how “the camera team and directors assemble sequences in the same way [and] I try that out in my buildings.”12 While these examples focus on the use of narrative in architecture, the appearance of film as a descriptor demonstrates the value of looking to film in relation to narrative and architectural design. This is also shown in Bleeckere and Gerards’ discussion of potential skills and methods for designing with narrative, which draws primarily from the language of film. They echo Psarra and Zumthor’s concern with time and narrative, and add the comparison to film: “Narrativity is always thinking and imagining in the realm of time ... Film humanizes time by means of a scenario that modulates time to the key of narrativity”13 (see fig. 3). In addition to their discussion of time and movement, Bleeckere and Gerards draw ideas of character and montage into narrativity for architecture. Use of character in architectural narratives can also be seen in John Hejduk’s Masques, which is a form of storytelling-architecture,14 which uses distinct characters and individual experience as the foundation of an unfolding narrative.Figure 3. Bleeckere and Gerards describe narrative as existing in the relationship between space and time.Figure 4. Pallasmaa’s description of how visual narratives are created in film.mental state of charactersnarrativecolourarchitectural styletheme A theme Bspatial  configurationpatternlightwindowsspace timenarrativity6Architecture & FilmArchitecture and film have been compared to one another since the invention of film in the late nineteenth century. The comparison continues to be a point of discussion within the field of architecture, as seen in the preceding discussion of narrative architecture. While narrative is the focus of this investigation, it is worth noting the range of connections that have been made between film and architecture. I classify these connections into two categories, first, those which overlay filmic concepts to the design of architecture and, second, those which look at how film transforms the perception of architecture. In an example of a filmic concept overlaid onto architecture, Bernhard Tschumi explored ideas of event and action in space, through film and storyboard techniques in The Manhattan Transcripts.15 In the same way, Rem Koolhaas and Sergei Eisenstein both looked at montage and architecture in terms of movement through space.16 Pascal Schöning, meanwhile, theorized about the creation of a cinematic architecture, leading workshops to explore the theory, with students at the Architectural Association.17 Graham Cairns also led student workshops, as a way to investigate the concept of ‘cinematographic space,’ which he describes as the on-screen perception of space.18 In The Architecture of the Screen, Cairns suggests that film can be a compelling generator of space in architecture, for which the workshops are a testing ground.19 There has likewise been much investigation into how film can transform architectural perception. In Zoomscape: Architecture in Motion and Media, Mitchell Schwarzer discusses shifting perception through film, focusing on how architecture creates new artistic compositions on film, by developing the narrative and creating new spatial experiences for the viewer.20 Juhani Pallasmaa, in The Architecture of Image: Existential Space in Cinema, similarly looks at how architecture is perceived on film, especially how the power of both film and architecture comes from the images and emotions they evoke in the observer, which he argues is used with a wider range in film.21 Through numerous film examples, he describes how visual narratives are created on film, which I have detailed in Figure 4. A similar idea is also explored in Renée Tobe’s Film, Architecture and Spatial Imagination, where he suggests that learning to ‘read’ architecture and film design will allow us to ‘see’ their inherent messages, and understand why film is so effective to our senses.22The publication Cinema & Architecture: Méliès, Mallet-Stevens, Multimedia is the result of an interdisciplinary conference, between the fields of film and architecture, held in London in 1997. While providing many examples of the crossovers between film and architecture, the publication also reveals what is missing in the discussion between the two fields. For example, production designer Diana Charley’s “Production Design as Process” introduces production design as a design process that could be applied to architecture,23 but she only suggests that it could happen, there is no translation of how it could. Cairns’ student workshops begin to do this, by translating ideas of cinematographic space into architectural design proposals, but he does not include narrative in his discussion, or include film production design, focusing instead on camera movement and editing. 7Film Production DesignIn film, the production designer creates the visual world of the screen, which is inherently tied to both narrative and architecture. Designs created for film exist to tell the film’s narrative, and architecture is one of the ways that story is told. Production designer K.K. Barrett gives a thorough overview to the work of the production designer:“...the production designer is responsible for everything visual in front of the lens. .... [and] able to tell a story and add depth beyond the dialogue and exposition. [A] production designer should create a world that feels unique only to this story. The world need not be real, but must give the actors and their actions believability. The more singular the world, the more carefully framed the storytelling can be.”24As Barrett suggests, production designers are visual storytellers that create a world for each film, not just individual buildings or sets. In an overview of published interviews with production designers (primarily from Emily Russell’s “Production Design,” Fionnula Halligan’s Filmcraft: Production Design and Vincent LoBrutto’s By Design: Interviews with Film Production Designers), the focus on world-creation is prevalent. In one interview, Eve Stewart describes this as “creating a bubble of belief around a piece of narrative ... [and] serv[ing] the narrative in terms of mood, lightness and darkness, and scale and reduction.”25 With this description, Stewart identifies many of the key tools a production can use to convey narrative, and thereby the world of the film. In an effort to further identify the tools and processes used in the production designer’s process, I created the following diagrams to identify the design methods described by production designers in Emily Russell’s published interviews, seen in Figures 5-7. As found in this analysis, an essential aspect of the production design process is mood, which can establish an identity and consistency with the core of the narrative. Paul Austerberry, for example, says that the role of the designer is to set the mood for the film,26 while Albert Brenner similarly suggests that for a designer to create a mood for the film is essential,27 and Halligan likewise introduces the production designers in her book as “mood magicians.”28 Mood can be created through the other tools Stewart mentions—lightness, darkness, scale and reduction, along with many others. A further breakdown of the tools used to create mood can be found in Figure 8, which also looks at the tools used to create visual deceptions in film.Scanned with CamScannerinteriorspsychological tensionFigure 5.Design methodology as described by K.K. BarrettK.K. Barrett8story told through interaction with architectureScanned with CamScannerFigure 6.Design methodology as described by Laurence Bennet (top), Perry Blake (upper middle), Donald Graham Burt (lower middle), Scott Chambliss (lower).Laurence BennettPerry BlakeScott ChamblissDonald Graham Burt9Scanned with CamScannerScanned with CamScannerScanned with CamScannerScanned with CamScannerScanned with CamScannerScanned with CamScannerScanned with CamScannerScanned with CamScannerperceivedrealityon stage on locationScanned with CamScannerFigure 7.Design methodology as described by Nathan Crowley (top), Alex Digerlando (middle upper), Darren Gilford (middle lower), David Gropman (lower).Nathan CrowleyAlex DigerlandoDarren GilfordDavid Gropmanaccumulation of charactersartifactsselected / combined realityloose to defined world buildingstyle guidesbreaking into piecesreality honest representationcolour identity10light (natural and artificial)colour identity patternstextureselection of architectural styles spatial configurationlocation selection interiors (set dressing, furniture)camera anglescharacter movement in spacescalereduction / exaggerationsound stages to manipulate architecturewild (moveable) wallscombining parts of the existing worldthe camera lensmatte backings / rotoscopingminiatures and cutoutsforced perspectivefront/rear projectionMOOD DECEPTIONScanned with CamScannerScanned with CamScannerFigure 8.The production designer’s tools for mood and deception11Visual deception allows a film’s on-screen space to support the narrative and mood, despite spatial or physical constraints. Halligan suitably also introduces production designers as “wizards of illusion,”29 which again aligns with the language production designers used to explain their work in the interviews selected for this study. Nathan Crowley discusses the “deception of place,”30 Rick Carter describes production design as “a magician’s illusion,”31 Paul Sylbert calls film “sleight of hand ... illusion,”32 and Wynn Thomas states that “Everything is exaggerated in the film industry. This is how filmmakers alter our perception of ourselves—by controlling the reality that’s up on the screen.”33 In “Film Architecture: The Imagination of Lies,” Christopher Hobbs also focuses on the ability of illusion to support the narrative: “The film-maker’s task is to understand what dramatic effect is wanted, and deploy the resources of screen illusion to achieve it.”34 An analysis of these interviews also shows that a production designer’s method for creating film worlds can be organized into three categories. The first (world-building) is a design process that starts with the world of the film, and then brings the characters into that world. The second (character-driven) instead begins with the characters and creates the film’s world through a build up of character-driven design. The third method (character-world) does not begin clearly in one direction, but instead moves back and forth between character and world. Each method is demonstrated by a production designer’s description of their process:World-building | Donald Graham Burt “I begin with the large scale as it pertains to the script and use that as a foundation for all else that plays within the narrative. Then the individual characters are built into this world whether they compliment it or juxtapose it.”35Character-driven | Alex Digerlando “I go towards the character first, because the accumulation of the characters is the world.”36Character-world | David Gropman “I’m simultaneously working from inside and out. The characters are the world. The world doesn’t exist without the story the characters are telling.”3712WORLD-BUILDING CHARACTER DRIVENNathan Crowley | The Dark Knight K. K. Barrett | HerModernism as a plain canvas for the Joker’s chaos Apartment layout to show Theodore’s lonelinessImages from jamierama.com (left)38 and archdaily.com (right)39Figure 9.Two methods of production design: world-building and character-driven.13Summary This overview of the fields of inquiry of this thesis (narrative, architecture and film), shows that there is a diverse background of theory and practice to draw from, but also there are gaps in the crossover between the different fields. While there is a constant discussion of narrative architecture, and a repeated reference to film within this discussion, the investigation into how tools from film can be translated to architecture has only been touched on. This is the gap this thesis intends to fill. Through an investigation into the architectural translation of the production designer’s working process this thesis will expand the conversation of narrative architecture. By testing the production designer’s process in an architectural project, new working methods for architecture can be explored, as can new ways of looking at the production designer’s process.Endnotes1. Sylvain De Bleeckere and Sebastiaan Gerards, Narrative Architecture: A Designer’s Journey (New York: Routledge, 2017) 1-2.2. Sophia Psarra, Architecture and Narrative: The Formation of Space and Cultural Meaning, (London: Routledge, 2009), 115.3. Sergei M. Eisenstein, Yve-Alain Bois, and Michael Glenny, “Montage and Architecture,” Assemblage, no. 10 (1989): 110–31.4. Claire Jamieson, NATO: Narrative Architecture in Postmodern London (Oxon: Routledge, 2017), 8. 5. Jamieson, NATO, 9. 6. De Bleeckere, Narrative Architecture, 3.7. De Bleeckere, Narrative Architecture, 2.8. De Bleeckere, Narrative Architecture, 3. 9. Psarra, Architecture and Narrative, 3.10. Psarra, Architecture and Narrative, 3. 11. Peter Zumthor, Thinking Architecture (Basel: Birkhäuser, 1998), 86.12. Peter Zumthor, Atmospheres: Architectural Environments, Surrounding Objects (Basel: Birkhäuser, 2006), 45.13. De Bleeckere, Narrative Architecture, 159. 14. James McGregor, “The Architect as Storyteller: Making Places in John Hedjuk’s Masques,” Architectural Theory Review 7, no. 2 (November 1, 2002), 63. 15. Bernard Tschumi, The Manhattan Transcripts (London: St. Martin’s Press, 1981).16. Sergei Eisenstein, Yve-Alain Bois, and Michael Glenny. “Montage and Architecture” (Assemblage, no. 10, 1989), 110-131 and Lucan, Jacques, “Process and Program vs Composition: Rem Koolhaas” (Composition, Non-Composition, EPFL, 2012), 550-551.1417. Pascal Schoning, Manifesto for a Cinematic Architecture (London: Architectural Association Publications, 2006), 5-29.18. Graham Cairns, The Architecture of the Screen: Essays in Cinematographic Space (Bristol: Intellect, 2013), 177-178.19. Cairns, The Architecture of the Screen: Essays in Cinematographic Space, 187.20. Mitchell Schwarzer, Zoomscape: Architecture in Motion and Media (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2004), 207-215.21. Juhani Pallasmaa, The Architecture of Image: Existential Space in Cinema (Helsinki: Rakennustieto Publishing, 2008), 6.22. Renée Tobe, Film, Architecture and Spatial Imagination (London: Routledge, 2017), 1-5.23. Diana Charnley, “Production Design as Process,” in Cinema & Architecture, ed. Francios Penz and Maureen Thomas (London: British Film Institute, 1997), 154-165.24. Emily Russell, “Production Design” (Harvard Graduate School of Design, 2015), 3.25. Fionnuala Halligan, FilmCraft: Production Design (Burlington: Focal Press, 2013),161-2.26. Paul Austerberry, “Creator Talk: Paul Austerberry,” by Nathalie Atkinson (Vancouver International Film Festival, October 2018).27. Vincent LoBrutto, By Design: Interviews with Film Production Designers, (Wesport: Praeger Publishers, 1992), 99.28. Halligan, Production Design, 8.29. Halligan, Production Design, 830. Russell, “Production Design,” 21.31. Halligan, Production Design, 41.32. LoBrutto, By Design, 85.33. LoBrutto, By Design, 232.34. Christopher Hobbs, “Film Architecture: The Imagination of Lies,” in Cinema & Architecture: Méliès, Mallet-Stevens, Multimedia, (London: British Film Institute, 1997), 168.35. Russell, “Production Design,” 1536. Russell, “Production Design,” 2637. Russell, “Production Design,” 37.38. Jamie Rama, “The Dark Knight,” accessed October 29, 2018, jamierama.com/darkknight.html.39. “Interiors: Her,” ArchDaily, accessed October 11, 2018, archdaily.com/480608/interiors-her.15Chapter 2 | PrecedentsProduction DesignThe first set of precedents for this investigation come from the field of production design. By looking at specific examples of how production design tools are applied, they can be better understood in an architectural context. Specific films provide precedents for how narrative is translated through the design process, as shown in the following discussion. In the first example, Eve Stewart’s design drawings for The King’s Speech,1 show how focus on characters and their actions can be essential to the design process (see fig. 10). The characters are the focus of her drawings—allowing the world around them to support the narrative while remaining in the background. In these drawings it is clear that the production designer creates the character’s world, which cannot be separated from the characters or their story. The use of light in the film, both natural and artificial, helps to create the quality and mood of the film’s spaces, which speak to the story’s time period (1936), while also framing the characters (see fig. 11). In Terence Marner’s book Film Design, he also describes how light is “used to emphasize the mood of the story,”2 as Stewart’s work demonstrates. Scale is also essential to designing the feeling and mood of film space. It is constantly mentioned by production designers in interviews describing their work (from Russel, Halligan and LoBrutto’s interviews), and is used for different affect with studio sets and location filming. As Nathan Crowley describes, “sound stage sets [are] created to manipulate architecture, to make you believe something is much bigger than it is, while [existing] architecture also creates spaces you can’t on a sound stage.”3 Crowley’s design of The Dark Knight demonstrates this, through sets that use scale to compress or expand the space surrounding a character, such as the streetscape and studio sets shown in Figure 11. Figure 10.Eve Stewart’s  design drawings for The King’s Speech16PATTERN | THE SHININGLIGHT | THE KING’S SPEECHLightPATTERN | THE SHININGLIGHT | THE KING’S SPEECHFigure 11.(top) Light in The King’s Speech Production Designer: Eve Stewart(middle) Scale in The Dark Knight Production Designer: Nathan Crowley(bottom) Pattern in The Shining Production Designer: Roy Walker PatternSCALE | THE DARK KNIGHTScale17Juhani Pallasmaa’s discussion of The Shining, in The Architecture of Image: Existential Space in Cinema, shows how pattern is used to project the internal state of the characters onto the film’s surface (see Fig. 11).4 In the film, the maze is a predominant theme, which creates a feeling of disorientation and dizziness through pattern and the spatial configuration of the hotel.5 Mood in film design is also created by colour, which Gropman describes as a colour identity for a film.6 Gropman demonstrates this with in his work on Life of Pi, creating a sense of place for the narrative, based on a yellow and blue colour palette (fig. 12). Sarah Greenwood also describes her use of colour in Atonement—she uses an arsenic green to illustrate a sense of over-ripeness and to define the first period of the film through it7 (fig. 12). Paul Austerberry, similarly, describes how he uses colour in Shape of Water to contrast different characters from one another.8 For example, he designs a warm space for one character and a cool space for another (fig. 12). K.K. Barrett uses colour with yet another purpose—in the film Her, he uses a restricted colour palette (using warm colours and avoiding blue) to define the world of the alternate reality he creates (fig. 12). Austerberry also describes how he sees film as building onto architecture, through the design of the details of interior spaces, used to reflect the narrative and the characters. He elaborates, “when we build the architecture, its more the shell ... and when we’re doing the film, its much more than that. We create the space, but then we have all the little objects that go in it to help tell that story”9 (see fig. 13). Looking at buildings that are repeatedly used for film locations also shows how architecture can be seen as a shell in film—to be manipulated for each different narrative and mood that enters its walls. Two film locations that demonstrate this are the Bradbury Building and Quality Cafe, in Los Angeles (figs. 14, 15). While Quality Cafe is used as a cafe set in each of the four examples shown in Figure 16, each has a different mood, demonstrating the importance of mood creation in representing a story on film. The Bradbury Building, on the other hand, plays a ruin of a building in Blade Runner, a modern office building in (500) Days of Summer, part of a film studio in The Artist and a hotel in China Girl, as shown in Figure 15. 18ColourFigure 12. The  use of colour as a design tool.(top) Colour to create a sense of place in Life of Pi Production Designer: David Gropman(middle upper) Colour to identify different time periods in Atonement Production Designer: Sarah Greenwood(middle lower) Colour to identify characters in The Shape of Water Production Designer: Paul Austerberry(bottom) Colour to create an alternate reality in Her Production Designer: K. K. Barrett19Figure 13.(top) Architecture as the shell (middle) Production design with interiors to tell the story (bottom) Image from The Shape of WaterProduction Designer: Paul Austerberry20Figure 14.Quality Cafe (Los Angeles) in four different films, creating four different moods. Images from (top) Ghost World, (middle upper) Million Dollar Baby, (middle lower) The Midnight Meat Train, (lower) Gone in Sixty Seconds.21Figure 15.The Bradbury Building (Los Angeles): serving four different narratives..Images from (top) Blade Runner, (middle) 500 Days of Summer, (bottom left) China Girl, (bottom right) The Artist.22Architecture, Film & NarrativeReturning now to look at precedents from the field of architecture, Bernard Tschumi’s The Manhattan Transcripts provides an example of how the space-time relationship of film and architecture can be visually represented (fig. 16). His focus on the event-action space of architecture shows how spatial relationships and scale can be used to convey narrative in drawings as well as in structure. Tschumi’s use of narrative through movement in architecture also aligns with production designer Donald Graham Burt’s attitude towards the use of architecture in film:“Architecture reflects so much about who we are as people that it cannot help but do more than tell a story but be a significant part of the story. Architecture is not only the structures we live in and work in and pass through, but the way we live within those spaces has a type of architecture to it as well – where we spend time in spaces, where we place objects in spaces, how we respond to a space by how we live in it.”10Peter Zumthor and Louise Bourgeois’ Steilneset Memorial in Norway can also be analyzed along similar lines to Tschumi. The architecture uses narrative, through the history of the witch-burning trials in Varda, to lead visitors through the space, using light in their creation of mood. To look at the project in these terms, the diagram seen in Figure 17, uses methods inspired by Tschumi to represent four narratives of the project—that of the site’s community, the act of the burnings, the lives of the accused and the path of the visitor. Unlike Zumthor and Bourgeois’ project, which expresses narratives of the site, Olsen Kundig led a design studio that instead brought narrative to a site, much as a film production does. The studio, “The Odyssean Hand,” overlaid narratives from Homer’s Odyssey onto Seattle, transforming the place with designs based on different fragments of the narrative (fig. 18). One student’s design was based on the storm sent after Odysseus, while another came from the witch-goddess Circe. The intent of the studio was to rethink the design process, with narrative as the foundation of the students’ design,11 much as this thesis intends to do—except in Kundig’s case the narrative is tied to literature. 23Figure 16. Selection from Bernard Tschumi’s The Manhattan Transcripts24the lostthe visitorElin ThorstensdatterKaren Edisdatterlinear linearDorette PoulsdatterMari Tamisdatterlinear circularthe communitythe burnings“long wooden racks for drying fish”“landscape of horizontal lines” “the only thing that indicated the presence of people and life, were the lights in the windows of houses”the damned the belovedthe witches the possessedFigure 17. The multiple narratives of Peter Zumthor and Louise Bourgeois’ Steilneset Memorial: the community, the burnings, the lost, the visitor.the visitorthe lostthe burningsthe community25Figure 18. Drawings from Olsen Kundig’s The Odyssean Hand summer studio, using narratives from Homer’s Odyssey to transform Seattle.26Endnotes1. Images from: Fionnuala Halligan, FilmCraft: Production Design (Burlington: Focal Press, 2013), 184-185.2. Terence St. John Marner, and Michael Stringer, Film Design, (London: The Tantivy Press, 1974), 116.3. Emily Russell, “Production Design” (Harvard Graduate School of Design, 2015), 22.4. Juhani Pallasmaa, The Architecture of Image: Existential Space in Cinema (Helsinki: Rakennustieto Publishing, 2008),109. 5. Pallasmaa, The Architecture of Image: Existential Space in Cinema, 100.6. Russell, “Production Design,” 37.7. Halligan, Production Design,116.8. Paul Austerberry, “Creator Talk: Paul Austerberry,” by Nathalie Atkinson (Vancouver International Film Festival, October 2018).9. Austerberry, “Creator Talk.”10. Bernard Tschumi, The Manhattan Transcripts (London: St. Martin’s Press, 1981).11. “The Odyssean Hand: Olson Kundig and WSU Summer Immersion Studio,” Olsen Kundig, August 7, 2018, olsonkundig.com/projects/the-odyssean-hand-architecture-of-a-rigorous-meander.27Chapter 3 | Projected ApproachApplication of Production Design TechniquesThe key to taking this research and analysis into the design phase lies in the translation of the production design techniques for narrative into architecture. Through the application of production design to architecture, the methods from film can be tested further and explored for its potential in architecture’s design process. To begin examining these theories, I used three sites with which to conduct tests—one of which is the site of further design exploration. The sites were selected for the multiple narratives (historical and user-based narratives) they already contained, which could then be used as the narrative foundation of the design. In film, there is commonly multiple narratives running through a film and it is part of the task of the production designer to identify which narratives are the focus of the design and which will be in the background. As production designer Scott Chambliss describes of his design process, “My first responses to a script are primarily intuitive because what I want to discover first is the emotional core of the story.”1 The threads of a story can go in many directions, but the production designer finds the core. Likewise, I intend for this multiplicity to be present on site as a design opportunity. The first site that I then examined was Vancouver’s Queen Elizabeth Park, which I looked at as a site of character-driven design (see fig. 19). Some of the characters included are the historical quarry worker, the visiting tourist and the practicing saxophonist. Each character’s narrative could evoke a unique mood on the site, as explored in Figure 19. While rich in diversity of characters from which to draw narratives, I found the following two sites, which provide narratives more from the point of world-building, to be more productive for testing the techniques of the production design process. 28Figure 19. The characters of Queen Elizabeth Park, with a corresponding mood exploration.29My second investigation was into the site of the Riverview Hospital in Coquitlam, which has a complex history—from the currently decaying buildings on site, to the previously thriving mental health centre and town of Essondale, to the occupation of the site as traditional Kwikkwetlem territory. Analysis of the very different narratives of site occupation proved fruitful in its relationship to mood, and how the differing narratives could be re-framed by their juxtaposition (fig. 20). The historic photographs of the site also demonstrate how their filmic quality begins to evoke a feeling or a mood, for example, through the use of colour in the sepia photographs (see fig. 21).2 Figure 20. (top) Narratives of approach to the site, from the city or from the river. (bottom) Narratives of experience, from hospital confinement to a childhood playground.30Figure 21. A selection of historical photographs from the Riverview Hospital site.Images from Riverview Hospital: A Legacy of Care & Compassion (British Columbia Mental Health and Addiction Services, 2009)31The third site, the one I selected for this design project, is Cooper’s Green Park in Halfmoon Bay, B.C. Its history ranges from its occupation by the shíshálh Nation, to its role in European exploration and settlement, to its use as Redrooff’s Resort and its importance in the formation of the Halfmoon Bay community. The site is situated at the ocean’s edge, which provides narratives of departure and arrival, from land or from sea, as shown throughout its historical uses. In this initial exploration, I looked at the moods present on site, which varied widely, as Figure 22 demonstrates. This drawing looks at the different qualities of the site when it is inward looking, as a place of gathering, or when it is outward looking, as a place of solitude. I also looked at how the different historical narratives approached the site from the water (fig. 23), the comparison of entering the site from the road or from the ocean (fig. 24) and the changing scale of the site when viewed from within or from afar (fig. 24). Figure 22. Sketch of moods present in Cooper’s Green site.32Figure 23.(top) Approach to the site by shíshálh canoe, 1880 (middle) Approach by steamship, 1930 (bottom) Approach by personal watercrafts, 198033Figure 24.(top)  The path to Cooper’s Green by boat or by car (bottom) Cooper’s Green through the trees or from the waterMoving from these initial observations of the filmic qualities of the site, to architectural translations of mood and production design tools is the next stage of the project. The process itself is an important part of the project, as the techniques of film design guide the project and its relationship to narrative. As a film’s narrative is meant to be experienced by the audience, this design proposal is also meant to be an experienced narrative. Testing of the experiential qualities of the mood and narrative of the design are therefore important to the process. Endnotes1. Emily Russell, “Production Design” (Harvard Graduate School of Design, 2015), 17.2. Photographs from: Riverview Hospital: A Legacy of Care & Compassion (British Columbia Mental Health and Addiction Services, 2010).34Chapter 4 | SiteCooper’s Green Park, Halfmoon Bay, British ColumbiaRedrooffs, British Columbia Redrooffs Resort, British Columbia hwail-kwaiCooper’s Green is a small regional park, in the town of Halfmoon Bay, that is also the center of many community events and home to the Halfmoon Bay Community Hall. Its beginnings as a gathering place go back to its pre-settlement use by the shíshálh Nation, followed by the creation of Redrooffs Resort on the site in 1909.1 I selected a site for this project that already contains multiple narratives, from its history and use over time, that could serve as the foundation for the proposed narrative-focused design process. My interest in these specific narratives, comes from my own personal history growing up spending my summers 2km down the coast from this site. Figure 25 shows the relationship of Halfmoon Bay to its wider context, specifically in relation to Vancouver.2 VANCOUVERHALFMOON BAYPRESENT DAY ROUTE1920 ROUTEFigure 25.Site context map from Vancouver to Halfmoon Bay, showing present day and 1920 route35Figure 26. European exploration: 1910 map of Welcome Pass, with a detail of the future Halfmoon Bay area36A home for the shíshálh people (as they traveled up and down the coastline for thousands of years), became home to early settlers, and was transformed into a summer resort (Redrooffs Resort)for steamship visitors, and then transformed again into a community campground. Now it is in its latest reincarnation as a regional park and community hall. A comparison between the resort’s occupation of the site and the present day occupation is shown in Figure 27 below. Similarly, a series of maps in Figure 28 shows the changing site over a hundred years. The admiralty chart in Figure 26 shows that in 1910 there were only five buildings in all of the Halfmoon Bay area3, while the images shown in Figures 31-34 show the gradual development of the site. Cooper’s Green has gone under many forms of occupation over its lifespan — each giving way to the next, leaving a rich history behind, but with little signs of the former occupation in the current park. The only physical remains of the Redrooffs Resort that can be seen at Cooper’s Green, is the retaining wall of the demolished dance hall porch, built in 1949 (see fig. 29). While this narrative is remembered through photographs, there are no such records of the shíshálh occupation, except for the artifacts that neighbouring properties report and discover as they dig into the land.Today, the site an unassuming park, with an open grassy area, surrounded by stands of trees and bordered by the shoreline on one side and the road on the other. Figure 30 shows an abstraction of the site as a clay model. It can be a quiet, peaceful and solitary place (fig. 33). Or it can be the vibrant and full home of a community gathering (fig. 34). It also serves as an important point of connection from the road to the water’s edge, in an area that otherwise generally has private properties bordering the waterfront (fig. 29). Figure 27.(top row) Redrooffs Resort, 1930’s-50’s Images from Steve Taylor and Sechelt Community Archives (bottom row)  Cooper’s Green Park, 201937Figure 28.The site conditions changing over a century1899 19191939 19591979 199938Figure 29.Existing site conditions, with the historical Redrooffs Resort conditions notated (left)Base image from Cooper’s Green Management Plan (2016)Cabin 1 (Lodge)DemolishedCabin 2 ExistingCabin 3 RebuiltCabin 3A DemolishedCabin 3B DemolishedCabin 3C DemolishedGazebo DemolishedTennis Courts RemovedTo Cabins 4 - 6Lagoon CabinsDemolishedSteamship Wharf RemovedDance Hall Only concrete porch remainsRedrooffs Store DemolishedSeawall RemovedBoat Rental Dock Removed39Figure 30.Clay model of Cooper's Green Park40The photographs of this site also have the power to evoke mood and evoke how the multiple histories of the place carry narrative potential. The photographs in Figure 30, for example, speak to the site’s isolation, while those in Figure 31 suggest themes of community and connections. Within this small but rich site, there is much room to explore how its narratives can be the foundation of an architectural design, with the applied tools of production design. Figure 31. Resort settlement: (top) Redrooffs Resort lodge, circa 1948 (middle) Postcard of Redrooffs island and wharf, circa 1924 (bottom left)  S.S. Selma traveling to Redrooffs, circa 1914 (bottom right) Postcard of Redrooffs store, circa 1914.Images from Sechelt Community Archives and garylittle.ca/history/redrooffs.html41Figure 32. (top) Redrooffs store and dance hall, late 1930’s (middle) Redrooffs Resort store, dock and dinghies, late 1930’s  (bottom right) Postcard of Redrooffs cabins, circa 1937Images from the Sunshine Coast Museum & Archives, the Coast Reporter and Steve Taylor42Figure 33.Current site conditions, photographs from the months of (top) April, (bottom left) June and (bottom right) December.43Figure 34.Current site conditions, photographs from (left, bottom right) the Halfmoon Bay Country Fair and (top right) a wedding ceremonyEndnotes1. Rob Gillis, A History & Pictorial Record Of District Lot 1427 & The Redrooffs Resort in Halfmoon Bay, 1892-2016. (Sunshine Coast Museum & Archives, 2016), 28. 2. Base map for Figure 25 from Natural Resources Canada.3. Malaspina Strait: Welcome Pass, 1910, Admiralty Chart, UKHO. 4. Halfmoon Bay Community Association, photograph, http://www.hmbcommunity.org/photo-gallery/. 5. Jacob Roberts, Halfmoon Bay Country Fair, 2016, The Coast Reporter, https://www.coastreporter.net/halfmoon-bay-country-fair-1.2299790.Images from the Halfmoon Bay Community Association4 and the Coast Reporter5 44Part II: Design Project45Chapter 5 | Design ProcessBuilding the NarrativesTo use the site’s narrative of occupation as the basis for my design work, I abstracted it into three fictionalized narratives that are based on the themes and activities of the site’s use. Figure 35 and 36 demonstrate some of the exploration of the site’s narratives, through images and text, that the resulting stories were based on. To apply the process of production design, I wanted concrete stories with worlds to build and characters to develop. Each constructed story is based on different aspects of the site’s history, and each is its own exercise in the process of world building.“A production designer should create a world that feels unique only to this story … The more singular the world, the more carefully framed the storytelling can be.”1 - K.K. Barrett, Production DesignerFigure 35.Collage of historical departure and arrival narratives46Depart / Arrive   Canoe Kayak Row Sail Swim Wait Depart Arrive Land Launch Carry (an organ) Fuel (up the boats)  Gather  Swim Fish Dive Play Play volleyball Play tennis Explore Eat Rest Sleep Butcher Dance Run Walk Milk cows Picnic Camp Grow Sing Make music Perform Sell Buy Deliver letters Ride ponies Ride horses Serve (food at the restaurant) Shoot Water-ski Compete Watch (the sunset) Worship Transform  Explore Butcher Camp Grow Build (homes) Build (campfires) Build (roads) Chop Paint (buildings and the wall murals) Tear-down Chart Figure 36.Historical narratives of the site as verbs47My intent in using multiple storylines, is to evoke the many different ways architecture can be experienced, whether in person or on film.The following is a brief introduction to the three stories, which emerged from a selection of the historical verbs, as Figure 37 shows. (Full narratives are on pages 66-68.)Narrative 1 Imagination: a child’s story Two children get lost in their imagination. Narrative 2 Revelry: a newcomer’s story An outsider comes to a town’s summer dance. Narrative 3  Journey: a traveler’s story A man runs from a storm that won’t stop chasing him.To begin this process, I created distinctive moods, characters and rules for each world that could shape the design for the site, which I began exploring through the film technique of storyboarding. The project builds and brings together different worlds in the architectural spaces where they overlap. On the site, I identified five areas where the stories could overlap and where I am proposing five design interventions. Each set of storyboards intersects with each of those five points. The interventions will replace the existing amenities in the park, including the community hall, which is currently slated to be rebuilt. Each narrative weaves through the location of all five interventions, each taking a different route through the site (fig. 38). No two narratives ever move the same way from one intervention to the next. This becomes a matrix of on-site possibilities, as the three narratives intersect the five interventions. Each intervention has a programmatic focus that I developed along with the narratives:Connect - a pathway to a small rock island that is normally only connected to the shore at low tideOffer –a long table built on-top of the old retaining wall that separates the beach from the clearingShelter – a hearth protected by a roof and slatted wallsGather – a platform among a circular stand of treesView – a view tower atop a small bluff48IMAGINATIONplay, camp, explore, grow, performFigure 37.Collages representing the three narratives for the designREVELRYdance, eat together, make music, swimJOURNEYarrive, wait, rest, build, depart49Figure 38.Narrative paths through the five interventionsIMAGINATIONREVELRYJOURNEYoffergathershelterviewconnectoffergathershelterviewoffergathershelterviewconnectconnect50StoryboardingI used storyboards as a design tool for exploring the overlapping narratives and to look at how an intervention could help create a certain feeling or mood in one story, and then something else entirely in another. The interventions developed as the story developed, and vice versa, linking the two together in the design process. I used iterations of the storyboards to develop each narrative and intervention. Figure 39 shows an iteration focused on creating the narratives, while Figure 40 is an iteration focused on developing the interventions within the narrative structure. The storyboards worked as a sliding tool for the design of each intervention, as Figures 41-45 demonstrate. They can operate as a single narrative strip, or all the storyboards that cross the same intervention can align and be used to focus on the development of that one intervention (figs. 41-45).VIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYFigure 39.Storyboard iteration to develop the narratives51VIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYFigure 40.Storyboard iteration to develop the interventions52VIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYVIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONN CT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYVIEW GATH CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATH VI W CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYFigure 41.Connect — storyboard development53VIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYVIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYVIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYFigure 42.Offer — storyboard development54VIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYVIE T ER E T FFER S ELTERFFER T ER VIE E T S ELTERE T T ER S ELTER VIE FFERIMAGINATIONREVELRYJOURNEYVIEW GATHER CONN CT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATH R VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONN CT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYFigure 43.Shelter — storyboard development55VIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYVIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYIMAGINATIONREVELRYJOURNEYFigure 44.Gather — storyboard development56VIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYVIEW GATHER CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATHER VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYVIEW GATH CONNECT OFFER SHELTEROFFER GATH VIEW CONNECT SHELTERCONNECT GATHER SHELTER VIEW OFFER1IMAGINATION2REVELRY3JOURNEYFigure 45.View — storyboard development57USING NARRATIVE IN PRODUCTION DESIGNWORLD BUILDINGCHARACTER DEVELOPMENTSUBJECTIVE EXPERIENCEMOOD  EXPRESSIONRULES OF THE WORLDCOLOUR IDENTITY LIGHT TEXTURE PATTERNREDUCTION EXAGGERATION PERSPECTIVE VISUAL DECEPTIONSTORYWORLD | BUBBLE OF BELIEFTHROUGHFigure 46.Production design through world buildingShaping the InterventionsIn addition to designing through storyboards, I created the diagram in Figure 46, to focus the research from Part I of this thesis into a design tool. To apply the diagram, I developed each story through these lenses (ie. rules of the world, mood expression, character development, subjective experience), as Figure 47 demonstrates. For example, I developed rules for each story world that the designs would follow. Figures 48-52 show some of this design exploration for each intervention, while the following chapter shows the final design for the five interventions. 58Figure 47.World building for the narrativesRULES OF THE WORLD1. IMAGINATION- World feels exaggerated (bigger than life adventure)- Interventions play with scale2. REVELRY- Emphasizes magic of the night- Dark to bright, constant play of lightMOOD EXPRESSION1. IMAGINATION- Playful, whimsical- Youthful bright colour paletteCHARACTER DEVELOPMENT1. IMAGINATION- The children love to take what’s in front of them and spin a make-believe world from it- Use patterns to spark their imaginationSUBJECTIVE EXPERIENCE1. IMAGINATION- The children mix the real world and their imagined  one together2. REVELRY- Disbelief, wonderment- Warm light and deep dark night colours2. REVELRY- The newcomer is in awe of the glittering night scenes- Use texture to heighten the effect of the light2. REVELRY- The newcomer feels like she’s not part of the magical scenes3. JOURNEY- The architecture never fully separates the traveler from the elements- Interventions draw him from one to the next3. JOURNEY- Mysterious, illusory- Muted colours- Mist and rain3. JOURNEY- The traveler hopes for respite and protection in the park- Exaggerate the effect of the natural elements with the interventions3. JOURNEY- The traveler feels as if the natural elements are pursuing him59Figure 48.Connect intervention, building on the narratives60Figure 49.Offer intervention, building on the narratives61Figure 50.Shelter intervention, building on the narratives62Figure 51.Gather intervention, building on the narratives63Figure 52.View intervention, building on the narratives64Endnotes1. Emily Russell, “Production Design” (Harvard Graduate School of Design, 2015), 3. 65Chapter 6 | Design ResultsThe NarrativesWith these three sets of storyboards (fig. 53), I both want to convey the mood and story world that’s created for each narrative, and also how the interventions act differently in each to allow that to happen. The full text of the stories, with the accompanying storyboards, are laid out the following pages. Each story has also been recorded in the voice of its characters, which was played in the presented version of this thesis. While the three stories remain separate in the written (or spoken) version of them, when creating the designs (and the stories themselves), they were all considered and woven together. I created rules for the world of each story in this process, as mentioned in the previous chapter (fig. 47). For the children’s story, the world should feel exaggerated, and play with scale. For the newcomer’s story, the magic of the night should be emphasized, using a play between dark and light. For the traveler’s story, the structure of the site should never fully separate him from the elements. Figure 53.Final storyboards for the three narrativesIMAGINATIONREVELRYJOURNEY66IMAGINATIONHigh among the fir trees, Maggie followed her sister along a narrow pathway, which was clearly meant for adventurers like themselves. Then something flew right into Maggie’s hands. “Kate, look!” she cried. “Why it’s a fir sprite,” said Kate in amazement. The sprite looked back at them and said, “Yes, and I’m hoping you can come with me.”The girls followed the sprite, until they were surrounded by countless more fir sprites gathered in an enchanted circle. They sat on slender rings that rose up among the trees. One sprite called out, “After long years of peace, the foreshore is no longer safe. The truce between our people and those of the sea has been broken.” The sprite looked around. “One of us must go to the Seal King, he will know who is behind this.” “We will go!” the sisters cried in unison. The sprites broke into a loud cheer.Maggie and Kate entered the underwater kingdom, and approached the Seal King’s throne. “Honourable Seal King!” Kate cried out, “We come here on behalf of the fir sprites.” But before the king could reply, a dark green swarm suddenly covered them all. It was the seaweed monsters – they were the ones who had broken the truce!“Run!” the Seal King cried out to the girls. “We’ll fight them off, but you must get to the whale skeleton for protection!” Maggie and Kate raced up the shore, with seaweed monsters close behind them.At the skeleton, the fir sprites were ready to help fight back the monsters. Together they tangled the seaweed among the cage of bones. But then Kate stopped and stared at something off in the distance. She turned quickly to her sister, “Maggie! We forgot about the show, its about to start.”They took off at a run, rejoining the other campers just in time. Kate nudged Maggie towards the front of the stage, “Don’t forget you have the first line in the play.” Oh right, she had forgotten.“All children, except one, grow up.”VIEWGATHERCONNECTOFFERSHELTER67REVELRYI had just moved, and was still feeling unsettled. I didn’t like living somewhere so different from the city. Everything was idyllic here, picture perfect – it didn’t seem real. Then my neighbour, Mike, invited me to the town’s summer dance. I arrived late and everyone was already sitting together around a long table. It was spread with a lavish offering of food and lights hung in the air above. But I was ready to turn around and go back home. I didn’t belong there. Mike spotted me though, and my window of escape closed. As the sky darkened, music and dancing began on a platform circled by trees. Lights rose up in rings above the revelry below and music drifted out over the water. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I stepped forward into that scene, it would just disappear. So I stood still, but Mike broke away from the crowd and joined me. He wanted to show me something. I hesitated, but I did like his smile.I followed him up a long winding stair to a platform in the treetops. He told me to look up and I was instantly lost in endless stars. I had never seen so many before. Then I heard shouts from down below, and at the same moment, Mike touched my hand. I spooked, and ran back down the stairs.Then I realized the shouts were sounds of excitement coming from the path to the island, echoing across the water. I watched people jumping from the towering stones into the darkness below, and wished I hadn’t left Mike like that. But then, to my surprise, he appeared at my side again. He was actually laughing at me. I couldn’t help it, I laughed too. And with that, we both ran into the ocean, and it became a sea of stars that lit up with our every movement. As we all warmed ourselves by the fire afterwards, I started to feel like maybe I could belong here. The landscape might still be picture perfect, but the people were just people – not so different from me after all. And Mike did still have a nice smile. OFFERGATHERVIEWCONNECTSHELTER68JOURNEYThe waves crashing over the bow are getting bigger. The storm is gathering around me, chasing me out of the water. (Did I really make the ocean so angry?)But look, a sheltered bay – here I can tether my boat and wait out this vengeful storm, until the ocean forgives me. Crossing this tenuous stone pathway though, it feels like I could get swallowed into the ocean at any moment. I leap and a wave crashes behind me. It devoured the stone I just stood on. I leap again, another wave crashes. Leap, crash, leap, crash.I’m safely ashore, and out of the ocean’s reach. On land the water is tamed. Here rainwater flows calmly down the shore in a narrow channel – a smooth watery tendril leading me forward, beckoning me into a circle of trees.The trees bend in the wind, waving their branches like angry wardens, warning me away. Maybe I’m not safe on land after all. But a roof, walls, a place for a fire – this can shelter me from whatever comes. I can outlast a storm, even if the wind still whistles cruelly in through the slats, making the flames waver and spark.At last, everything is calm and quiet. It looks safe to emerge. Is it? Perhaps I’ve been forgiven after all. The back of my neck prickles – I feel like I’m being watched. I’m just paranoid, the danger is over. No – a cougar, a cougar is looking right at me. Don’t look away, don’t turn around. Just slowly back up these stairs and become as tall as the tower. Its working, it’s leaving.But it seems nowhere is safe for me now. I’ll make an offering at this walled border between land and sea, a plea for forgiveness. Ocean! I give you what I value most in atonement for what I took. I hang it here as a token of my repentance.Will it work? I’ll know soon enough.CONNECTGATHERGATHERVIEWOFFER69Figure 54.Cooper’s Green context plan, with interventionsCONNECTOFFERGATHERSHELTERVIEW70InterventionsThe five interventions are shown together in plan in Figures 54 and 55, and in a site section in Figure 56. When designing, I created the chart shown in Figure 57 to look at what was happening in each story, and what that meant it required from the architecture. The following section goes through each design intervention separately and looks at how it is shaped by the narratives and the production designer’s tools. Connect — page 72-73Offer — page 74-75Shelter — page 76-77Gather — page 78-79View — page 80-81Figure 55.Site plan with three narrative pathsCONNECTOFFERGATHERSHELTERVIEW71CONNECT OFFER SHELTER GATHER VIEWOFFER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A battle against the seaweed monsters- REQUIRES: A raised structure to climb on2. REVELRY- STORY: A lavish dinner by the sunset- REQUIRES: A large outdoor table3. JOURNEY- STORY: An offering is made to calm the ocean- REQUIRES: A place to hang something, facing the oceanCONNECT1. IMAGINATION- STORY: The underwater kingdom of the seal king- REQUIRES: A play area at low tide, with a throne-like seat2. REVELRY- STORY: A nighttime swim in the bioluminescence- REQUIRES: Platforms to swim to and jump fromGATHER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A gathering of the fir sprites- REQUIRES: Vertically stacked rings (for sprite seating)SHELTER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A summer camp play- REQUIRES: A stage and audience spaceVIEW1. IMAGINATION- STORY: An encounter with a fir sprite- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree canopy2. REVELRY- STORY: A dance under the stars- REQUIRES: A wooden dance floor2. REVELRY- STORY: A post-swim fire- REQUIRES: A fire to gather around2. REVELRY- STORY: Stargazing above the tree tops- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree tops3. JOURNEY- STORY: A man ties up his boat in a storm- REQUIRES: A dock to tie a boat, and a path to get to land3. JOURNEY- STORY: A channel of water leads into the trees- REQUIRES: Water drainage from the platform to the ocean3. JOURNEY- STORY: Shelter from the storm- REQUIRES: A roof and walls to protect from the elements3. JOURNEY- STORY: A cougar is scared away- REQUIRES: Stairs to provide heightFigure 56.Site section with interventionsFigure 57.Story guidelines for the interventions72CONNECT OFFER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A battle against the seaweed monsters- REQUIRES: A raised structure to climb on2. REVELRY- STORY: A lavish dinner by the sunset- REQUIRES: A large outdoor table3. JOURNEY- STORY: An offering is made to calm the ocean- REQUIRES: A place to hang something, facing the oceanCONNECT1. IMAGINATION- STORY: The underwater kingdom of the seal king- REQUIRES: A play area at low tide, with a throne-like seat2. REVELRY- STORY: A nighttime swim in the bioluminescence- REQUIRES: Platforms to swim to and jump fromGATHER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A gathering of the fir sprites- REQUIRES: Vertically stacked rings (for sprite seating)SHELTER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A summer camp play- REQUIRES: A stage and audience spaceVIEW1. IMAGINATION- STORY: An encounter with a fir sprite- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree canopy2. REVELRY- STORY: A dance under the stars- REQUIRES: A wooden dance floor2. REVELRY- STORY: A post-swim fire- REQUIRES: A fire to gather around2. REVELRY- STORY: Stargazing above the tree tops- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree tops3. JOURNEY- STORY: A man ties up his boat in a storm- REQUIRES: A dock to tie a boat, and a path to get to land3. JOURNEY- STORY: A channel of water leads into the trees- REQUIRES: Water drainage from the platform to the ocean3. JOURNEY- STORY: Shelter from the storm- REQUIRES: A roof and walls to protect from the elements3. JOURNEY- STORY: A cougar is scared away- REQUIRES: Stairs to provide heightThe intervention provides a play area for children at low tide, with a throne-like seat, platforms to swim from at a mid-tide and a dock to tie a boat, with a path to walk to shore from at high tide. In the children’s story, they seem like an underwater city, inspiring their encounter with the seal king. In the newcomer’s story, they tower in the darkness, providing a dark backdrop for the water’s luminescence. In the traveler’s story, the stone pathway emphasizes his tenuous escape from the ocean. The pathway provides three different ways of moving through the intervention, one for each storyline – at the hide tide level of stepping stones, at the mid-tide level and on the ground plane at low tide. Figure 58.Connect storyboards73Figure 59.Connect sectionFigure 60.Connect plan74OFFEROFFER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A battle against the seaweed monsters- REQUIRES: A raised structure to climb on2. REVELRY- STORY: A lavish dinner by the sunset- REQUIRES: A large outdoor table3. JOURNEY- STORY: An offering is made to calm the ocean- REQUIRES: A place to hang something, facing the oceanCONNECT1. IMAGINATION- STORY: The underwater kingdom of the seal king- REQUIRES: A play area at low tide, with a throne-like seat2. REVELRY- STORY: A nighttime swim in the bioluminescence- REQUIRES: Platforms to swim to and jump fromGATHER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A gathering of the fir sprites- REQUIRES: Vertically stacked rings (for sprite seating)SHELTER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A summer camp play- REQUIRES: A stage and audience spaceVIEW1. IMAGINATION- STORY: An encounter with a fir sprite- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree canopy2. REVELRY- STORY: A dance under the stars- REQUIRES: A wooden dance floor2. REVELRY- STORY: A post-swim fire- REQUIRES: A fire to gather around2. REVELRY- STORY: Stargazing above the tree tops- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree tops3. JOURNEY- STORY: A man ties up his boat in a storm- REQUIRES: A dock to tie a boat, and a path to get to land3. JOURNEY- STORY: A channel of water leads into the trees- REQUIRES: Water drainage from the platform to the ocean3. JOURNEY- STORY: Shelter from the storm- REQUIRES: A roof and walls to protect from the elements3. JOURNEY- STORY: A cougar is scared away- REQUIRES: Stairs to provide heightThe intervention provides a structure for children to climb on, a large outdoor table and a place to hang something facing the ocean. In the children’s story, it is imagined as a giant whale skeleton that can protect them from seaweed monsters. In the newcomer’s story, the table appears like a perfectly framed scene, that she doesn’t think she belongs in. In the traveler’s story, it seems like a ceremonial space where he can make a plea to the ocean. The frames around the table exaggerate the perspective from the children’s approach to it, but then make everything appear closer together from the newcomer’s approach, serving each story differently.Figure 61.Offer storyboards75Figure 62.Offer sectionFigure 63.Offer plan76SHELTEROFFER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A battle against the seaweed monsters- REQUIRES: A raised structure to climb on2. REVELRY- STORY: A lavish dinner by the sunset- REQUIRES: A large outdoor table3. JOURNEY- STORY: An offering is made to calm the ocean- REQUIRES: A place to hang something, facing the oceanCONNECT1. IMAGINATION- STORY: The underwater kingdom of the seal king- REQUIRES: A play area at low tide, with a throne-like seat2. REVELRY- STORY: A nighttime swim in the bioluminescence- REQUIRES: Platforms to swim to and jump fromGATHER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A gathering of the fir sprites- REQUIRES: Vertically stacked rings (for sprite seating)SHELTER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A summer camp play- REQUIRES: A stage and audience spaceVIEW1. IMAGINATION- STORY: An encounter with a fir sprite- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree canopy2. REVELRY- STORY: A dance under the stars- REQUIRES: A wooden dance floor2. REVELRY- STORY: A post-swim fire- REQUIRES: A fire to gather around2. REVELRY- STORY: Stargazing above the tree tops- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree tops3. JOURNEY- STORY: A man ties up his boat in a storm- REQUIRES: A dock to tie a boat, and a path to get to land3. JOURNEY- STORY: A channel of water leads into the trees- REQUIRES: Water drainage from the platform to the ocean3. JOURNEY- STORY: Shelter from the storm- REQUIRES: A roof and walls to protect from the elements3. JOURNEY- STORY: A cougar is scared away- REQUIRES: Stairs to provide heightThe intervention provides a stage and a space for an audience, a fire to gather around and a roof and walls to protect from the elements. In the children’s story, it re-frames their imaginative experience on site with a matter-of-fact and structured view of the landscape. In the newcomer’s story, the building envelops the girl into a scene of warmth, as she joins her new community. In the traveler’s story, it allows for a false sense of security, while the storm still rages ominously outside. The structure has slatted walls that can either be open or closed, creating a closed-in experience for the traveler, and open and welcoming one for the newcomer. Figure 64.Shelter storyboards77Figure 65.Shelter sectionFigure 66.Shelter plan78GATHEROFFER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A battle against the seaweed monsters- REQUIRES: A raised structure to climb on2. REVELRY- STORY: A lavish dinner by the sunset- REQUIRES: A large outdoor table3. JOURNEY- STORY: An offering is made to calm the ocean- REQUIRES: A place to hang something, facing the oceanCONNECT1. IMAGINATION- STORY: The underwater kingdom of the seal king- REQUIRES: A play area at low tide, with a throne-like seat2. REVELRY- STORY: A nighttime swim in the bioluminescence- REQUIRES: Platforms to swim to and jump fromGATHER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A gathering of the fir sprites- REQUIRES: Vertically stacked rings (for sprite seating)SHELTER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A summer camp play- REQUIRES: A stage and audience spaceVIEW1. IMAGINATION- STORY: An encounter with a fir sprite- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree canopy2. REVELRY- STORY: A dance under the stars- REQUIRES: A wooden dance floor2. REVELRY- STORY: A post-swim fire- REQUIRES: A fire to gather around2. REVELRY- STORY: Stargazing above the tree tops- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree tops3. JOURNEY- STORY: A man ties up his boat in a storm- REQUIRES: A dock to tie a boat, and a path to get to land3. JOURNEY- STORY: A channel of water leads into the trees- REQUIRES: Water drainage from the platform to the ocean3. JOURNEY- STORY: Shelter from the storm- REQUIRES: A roof and walls to protect from the elements3. JOURNEY- STORY: A cougar is scared away- REQUIRES: Stairs to provide heightThe intervention provides vertically stacked rings of lights, a dance floor under the stars and a water channel that leads to the platform. In the children’s story, the circular platform and rings above become an enchanted gathering circle. In the newcomer’s story, the dance glows with light from the trees, but the girl hides in the dark outside. In the traveler’s story, it beckons him into the park and away from the ocean. The rings of light enclose the platform in the trees, which inspire a gathering of fir sprites for the children, or a sense of remaining on the outside for the newcomer.Figure 67.Gather storyboards79Figure 68.Gather sectionFigure 69.Gather plan80VIEWOFFER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A battle against the seaweed monsters- REQUIRES: A raised structure to climb on2. REVELRY- STORY: A lavish dinner by the sunset- REQUIRES: A large outdoor table3. JOURNEY- STORY: An offering is made to calm the ocean- REQUIRES: A place to hang something, facing the oceanCONNECT1. IMAGINATION- STORY: The underwater kingdom of the seal king- REQUIRES: A play area at low tide, with a throne-like seat2. REVELRY- STORY: A nighttime swim in the bioluminescence- REQUIRES: Platforms to swim to and jump fromGATHER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A gathering of the fir sprites- REQUIRES: Vertically stacked rings (for sprite seating)SHELTER1. IMAGINATION- STORY: A summer camp play- REQUIRES: A stage and audience spaceVIEW1. IMAGINATION- STORY: An encounter with a fir sprite- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree canopy2. REVELRY- STORY: A dance under the stars- REQUIRES: A wooden dance floor2. REVELRY- STORY: A post-swim fire- REQUIRES: A fire to gather around2. REVELRY- STORY: Stargazing above the tree tops- REQUIRES: A platform in the tree tops3. JOURNEY- STORY: A man ties up his boat in a storm- REQUIRES: A dock to tie a boat, and a path to get to land3. JOURNEY- STORY: A channel of water leads into the trees- REQUIRES: Water drainage from the platform to the ocean3. JOURNEY- STORY: Shelter from the storm- REQUIRES: A roof and walls to protect from the elements3. JOURNEY- STORY: A cougar is scared away- REQUIRES: Stairs to provide heightThe intervention provides a platform in the tree canopy, another in the tree tops for stargazing and stairs providing height at the ground plane. In the children’s story, the pathway in the trees gives them a sense of adventure to begin their imaginative quest. In the newcomer’s story, it offers a quiet escape from the revelry and a sense of seclusion. In the traveler’s story, it helps the man scare away the cougar by giving him a tall place to stand. There are two entrances to the tower – one approaches across the pond, which gives the newcomer a continued sense of uncertainty as she crosses, and the other gives the traveler an escape from the cougar.Figure 70.View storyboards81Figure 71.View sectionFigure 72.View plan82ConclusionWith this process, I used the design to support the stories, in a way that could be changeable from one narrative to the next. I used them to create moments that highlight the narratives story worlds – their mood and their characters. Through these stories, I suggest the many different future narratives of this site that could also occupy the structures and build their own stories. I see the three narratives of the child, the newcomer and the traveler, as a starting point to creating architecture that engages with the narrative potential of a site. I hope that by bringing together production design and architecture in this project, it creates a new way to consider the two fields, along with the continued possibilities of subjective and narrative-driven architecture. Figure 73.Photograph from the UBC SALA  Thesis Reviews, April 201983BibliographyThis bibliography provides an overview of the sources I consulted for this design proposal. The section divisions demonstrate the different areas of research from which the sources were drawn. Architecture & NarrativeCoates, Nigel. Narrative Architecture. London: Wiley, 2012.Cope, Zoe Lynne. “Architectural Ghosts: Storytelling and the Architectural Imaginary.” Master’s thesis, University of Nebraska-Lincoln, 2017.De Bleeckere, Sylvain, and Sebastiaan Gerards. Narrative Architecture: A Designer’s Journey. New York: Routledge, 2017.Jamieson, Claire. NATO: Narrative Architecture in Postmodern London. Oxon: Routledge, 2017.Kimber, Lee. “Truth in Fiction: Storytelling and Architecture.” Master’s thesis, Victoria University of Wellington, 2010.Knutz, Eva, Thomas Markussen, Poul Rind Christensen, and Design School of Kolding. “The Role of Fiction in Experiments within Design, Art & Architecture - Towards a New Typology of Design Fiction,” Artifact, no. 2 (2014): 8.1-8.13.McGregor, James. “The Architect as Storyteller: Making Places in John Hedjuk’s Masques,” Architectural Theory Review 7, 7, no. 2 (November 1, 2002): 59–70.“The Odyssean Hand: Olson Kundig and WSU Summer Immersion Studio.” Olsen Kundig. Accessed August 7, 2018. olsonkundig.com/projects/the-odyssean-hand-architecture-of-a-rigorous-meander.Psarra, Sophia. Architecture and Narrative: The Formation of Space and Cultural Meaning. London: Routledge, 2009.Tissink, Fieke Elize. “Narrative-Driven Design: Roles of Narratives for Designing the Built Environment.” Master’s thesis. Delft University of Technology, 2016.Zumthor, Peter. Atmospheres: Architectural Environments, Surrounding Objects. Basel: Birkhäuser, 2006.Zumthor, Peter. Thinking Architecture. Basel: Birkhäuser, 1998.84Architecture & FilmBergfelder, Tim, Sue Harris, and Sarah Street. Film Architecture and the Transnational Imagination: Set Design in 1930s European Cinema. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2007.Cairns, Graham. The Architecture of the Screen: Essays in Cinematographic Space. Bristol: Intellect, 2013.Carless, Tonia, and Igea Troiani. “Cinematic Collage as Architectural Design Research.” Architecture Filmmaking. Bristol: Intellect, 2019.Colomina, Beatriz. Privacy and Publicity: Modern Architecture as Mass Media. Massachusetts: The MIT Press, 1994.Eisenstein, Sergei M., Yve-Alain Bois, and Michael Glenny. “Montage and Architecture,” Assemblage, no. 10 (1989): 110–31.Forget, Thomas. The Construction of Drawings and Movies: Models for Architectural Design and Analysis. New York: Routledge, 2013.Golles, Robert, and Charlotte Pochhacker. Film+arc. Austria: Artimage, 1993.Janser, Andres, and Arthur Ruegg. Hans Richter | New Living: Architecture. Film. Space. Switzerland: Lars Muller Publishers, 2001.Ockman, Joan. “Architecture in a Mode of Distraction: Eight Takes on Jacques Tati’s Playtime.” Edited by Mark Lamster. Architecture and Film. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2000.Pallasmaa, Juhani. The Architecture of Image: Existential Space in Cinema. 2nd ed. Helsinki: Rakennustieto Publishing, 2008.Penz, Francois, and Maureen Thomas. Cinema & Architecture: Méliès, Mallet-Stevens, Multimedia. London: British Film Institute, 1997.Russell, Emily. “Production Design.” Master’s thesis, Harvard Graduate School of Design, 2015.Schoning, Pascal. Manifesto for a Cinematic Architecture. London: Architectural Association Publications, 2006.Schwarzer, Mitchell. Zoomscape: Architecture in Motion and Media. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2004.Shonfield, Katherine. Walls Have Feelings: Architecture, Film and the City. London: Routledge, 2000.Tobe, Renée. Film, Architecture and Spatial Imagination. London: Routledge, 2017.Troiana, Igea, and Tonia Carless. “Architectural Design Research through Cinematic Collage,” Revista Lusófona de Arquitectura e Educação, no. 11 (2014): 255–78.Tschumi, Bernard. The Manhattan Transcripts. London: St. Martin’s Press, 1981.85Film Production DesignAusterberry, Paul. “Creator Talk: Paul Austerberry.” By Nathalie Atkinson. Vancouver International Film Festival, October 2018.Barnwell, Jane. Production Design: Architects of the Screen. London: Wallflower, 2004.Neumann, Dietrich, ed. Film Architecture: Set Designs from Metropolis to Blade Runner. New York: Prestel Publications, 1999.Halligan, Fionnuala. Filmcraft: Production Design. Burlington: Focal Press, 2013.Horak, Jan-Christopher. Saul Bass: Anatomy of Film Design. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 2014.LoBrutto, Vincent. By Design: Interviews with Film Production Designers. Wesport: Praeger Publishers, 1992.LoBrutto, Vincent. The Filmmaker’s Guide to Production Design. New York: Allworth Press, 2002.Marner, Terence St. John, and Michael Stringer. Film Design. London: The Tantivy Press, 1974.Olson, Robert L. Art Direction for Film and Video. 2nd ed. Burlington: Focal Press, 1999.Preston, Ward. What an Art Director Does. Los Angeles: Silman-James Press, 1994.Rizzo, Michael. The Art Direction Handbook for Film & Television. 2nd ed. Burlington: Focal Press, 2015.Shorter, Georgina. Designing for Screen. United Kingdom: Crowood Press, 2012.Whitlock, Cathy, and The Art Directors Guild. Designs on Film. New York: itbooks, 2010.Cooper’s Green HistoryGillis, Rob. A History & Pictorial Record Of District Lot 1427 & The Redrooffs Resort in Halfmoon Bay, 1892-2016. Sunshine Coast Museum & Archives, 2016.86Image Sources(500) Days of Summer. Dir. Marc Webb. Century City, CA: Fox Searchlight Pictures, 2009. ArchDaily. “Interiors: Her.” Accessed October 11, 2018. https://www.archdaily.com/480608/interiors-her.The Artist. Dir. Michel Hazanavicius. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros., 2011. Atonement. Dir. Joe Wright. Beverly Hills, CA: Relativity Media, 2007. Blade Runner. Dir. Ridley Scott. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros., 1982. China Girl. Dir. Abel Ferrara. Vestron Pictures, 1987. Cooper’s Green Management Plan. SCRD, January 2016. Accessed November 21, 2018. http://www.scrd.ca/files/File/Community/Parks/Maps%20Area%20B/2015%20Coopers%20Green%20Park%20Management%20Plan%20FINAL.pdfGary Little Collection: Early Postcards (gl.3, gl.9). 1948, 1924. Postcards. Sechelt Community Archives. http://archives.sechelt.ca/HTML/little/little.html. Ghost World. Dir. Terry Zwigoff. Beverly Hills, CA: United Artists, 2001. Gone in Sixty Seconds. Dir. Dominic Sena. Burbank, CA: Buena Vista Pictures Distribution, 2000. The Dark Knight. Dir. Christopher Nolan. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros. Pictures, 2008. Her. Dir. Spike Jonze. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros. Pictures, 2013. Life of Pi. Dir. Ang Lee. Century City, CA: 20th Century Fox, 2012. Malaspina Strait: Welcome Pass. 1910; 1:24,420 scale. Admirality Chart, UKHO. McCall, Helen. “Redrooff’s,” B.C. Photograph. The Coast Reporter, https://www.coastreporter.net/community/features/efforts-renewed-to-protect-halfmoon-bay-history-1.23408161.McCall, Helen. “Redrooff’s,” B.C. - H. McCall Photo B.32. Photograph. McCall, Helen. “The Store,” “Redrooff’s,” B.C. The Sunshine Coast Museum & Archives. The Midnight Meat Train. Dir. Ryuhei Kitamura. Santa Monica, CA: Lionsgate, 2008. Million Dollar Baby. Dir. Clint Eastwood. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros. Pictures, 2004. Natural Resources Canada. Canadian Topographic Maps. 92-F/8, F/9, G/5, G/6, G/11, G/12. 1:50,000 scale. http://publications.gc.ca. Patricia Hilton Collection (ph.2, ph.3). 1950’s. Photographs. Sechelt Community Archives. http://archives.sechelt.ca/HTML/hilton/hilton.html. Rama, Jamie. “The Dark Knight.” JamieRama. Accessed October 29, 2018. www.jamierama.com/darkknight.html.87Redrooffs. (Welcome Pass P.O.) - The Store. 1914. Postcard. Accessed July 18, 2018. garylittle.ca/history/redrooffs.html.Riverview Hospital: A Legacy of Care & Compassion. British Columbia Mental Health and Addiction Services, 2009. S.S. Selma. 1917. Postcard. Accessed July 18, 2018. http://www.garylittle.ca/history/redrooffs.html. The Shape of Water. Dir. Guillermo del Toro. Century City, CA: Fox Searchlight Pictures, 2017. The Shining. Dir. Stanley Kubrick. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros., 1980. Halfmoon Bay Community Association, photograph, http://www.hmbcommunity.org/photo-gallery/. Roberts, Jacob. Halfmoon Bay Country Fair. 2016, Photographs. The Coast Reporter. Accessed January 18, 2019, https://www.coastreporter.net/halfmoon-bay-country-fair-1.2299790.

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