21 Question What You Think You Know

I remember thinking after 9/11 that my life would be forever changed. At the time, I didn’t know how or when, but I simply accepted this as truth as the events left an indelible mark on my brain and my understanding of what it means to be a citizen in the world. I was fortunate not to have known anyone personally who perished in those attacks, but I felt within me a calling that was not present before. I was born in New York City and while I had not lived there in nearly two decades, I could not stop thinking about this jostling, dynamic, and complicated city — the first place I called home and the place that shaped my earliest conceptions of community. For the first time after the attacks on the World Trade Center, I knew I wanted to return to this community and aid in its healing, in whatever ways that looked like (even though I didn’t know exactly how, yet).

At the time, I was in college and majoring in art history. I had changed my major several times: first, to English and creative writing with an emphasis in poetry, then to history, and finally, to art history. I enjoyed the opportunities to explore different courses, topics, and learning modalities. I also had no idea what I wanted to do professionally and seized every chance I had to expose myself to new and challenging ideas. During my senior year I enrolled in a seminar called “Architectural History 1960-Present.” I became fascinated by design and the evolving contexts from which it sprung and realized for the first time just how critical the built environment and particularly public buildings and public spaces are to our collective sense of humanity. Such spaces have the potential to impact our lives on many levels; I recognized through this seminar that buildings are not designed in a vacuum but rather the team of architects must take into account the physical and historical context of the site in which the new structure will be built. Moreover, architecture not only responds to culture but can reimagine it and the ways people behave and move through space. Through materiality, proportion, light, and physical adjacencies, design has the potential not only to represent or reframe collective ideals and aspirations, but allows us to feel present in our everyday lives.

When I graduated college I went directly into a master’s program in critical theory and visual culture in London to deepen my understanding and exploration of the discipline and the built environment. In hindsight, I wish I had taken time after receiving my bachelor's degree to work in the industry and connect with professionals like so many of my peers in graduate school had done. Their perspectives seemed more nuanced and grounded in real experience, while my contributions in our seminars were more theoretical and conceptual in nature.

For my master’s thesis I decided to write about 9/11 and the rebuilding of the World Trade Center site in lower Manhattan. The architect Daniel Libeskind had recently been selected to design the master plan for the site and Michael Arad won the competition to design the memorial. It all seemed to be coalescing at the time I was developing my thesis and I felt compelled to take a critical lens to the work underway. The conversations centered around how buildings and the relationships between them might express a form of collective memory. I was curious about the connection between loss and materiality, physical form and the subconscious. How could design communicate those relationships? Furthermore, how could I as an individual surface these questions in meaningful ways and begin to chart the multitude of possible responses?

Once I completed my master’s degree, I moved to New York City. I was immersed, due to my research, in what had been happening there for the past two years and I knew I needed to be there. The World Trade Center redevelopment efforts were underway and I could imagine myself as part of them. Through informal networking I secured an interview with the executive director of the American Institute of Architects, New York Chapter (AIANY). They had recently opened a storefront gallery and programming space in the West Village and I was soon hired to coordinate their advocacy efforts in lower Manhattan. It felt like a dream. I was sitting in meeting rooms with the very individuals I had researched and written about in graduate school. I worked for the AIANY for three years when I decided I needed to understand how buildings were designed and built. I could theorize and write about architecture but I needed to know how to practice it. So, I went back to school for a degree in architecture and spent the next three years in a large studio in Morningside Heights with 40 peers working day and night on design projects. My appreciation for historical and societal contexts deepened as I became more aware of the consequences and impacts buildings have on public space and the individuals who inhabit them. In addition, innovations in material fabrication, building technologies, and construction methodologies all play a role in shaping the intent and design of buildings.

During graduate school I was fortunate to travel several times with different professors. I visited Japan, China, the  Democratic Republic of Congo, and spent six weeks traveling through India as part of a grant I received when I graduated. Witnessing different cultures, meeting new people, visiting landmarks, and eating local foods left indelible impressions on me. Traveling allowed me to step outside myself and my comfort zone and observe a variety of perspectives and ways of living. I will never forget the opportunities I had to leave my home in the U.S. and venture to places where I didn’t know anybody nor speak the language. I learned through these experiences that to be a good designer, I needed to be a good world citizen — someone who is receptive to new ways of thinking and approaching problems, someone who can appreciate that there might be several right answers. Moreover, I learned that community is essential and that design never happens in a vacuum — it demands consensus, iteration, and partnership.

After completing my degree in architecture, I began teaching in the School of Architecture at UA. At first, the transition from being a student of architecture to someone who trains others was challenging. But over time I developed my confidence and cultivated a deep passion for teaching. I enjoyed developing lectures on the history of architecture for my first-year students and supporting my second-year students on their design projects ranging from Montessori schools to multi-family dwellings. I loved introducing my students to the work of architects from around the world and in turn, learning about their families and communities and where they came from.

About the author

name: Annie Kurtin

Annie joined the University of Arizona’s Student Engagement & Career Development department in 2017 and leads their experiential learning design efforts. Prior to joining this department, Annie was a lecturer in the School of Architecture where she was responsible for coordinating first-year design studios. She grew up in New York and holds a Master of Arts degree in critical theory and visual culture from the University of London’s Goldsmiths College, and a Master of Architecture degree from Columbia University’s Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation. When Annie isn’t on campus, she’s either drawing or building forts with her two young sons. Her training in architecture is helpful for these endeavors!

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