Chris Downey, AIA

Sometimes in life, we humans experience falling down a rabbit hole only to attend a tea party with wild hats adorning bizarre characters. We find ourselves in a new, seemingly random experience which changes our world; our vantage points; or quite simply and largely, our lives. Such was the case for California architect, Chris Downey, AIA. Downey describes himself as an architect without sight but not without vision. And it was he who compared losing his sight to the Alice in Wonderland scene.

The year was 2008. Downey went in for surgery to remove a brain tumor. Two days before that, the avid cyclist rode miles upon miles over and through the Berkeley hills. The tumor was successfully removed, but 48 hours after the effective elimination, his sight was gone. Permanently and totally. And, just one month after this monumental disruption, this architect was back at the drafting table in his office. “Getting back to work soon was a way to stop the walls from building—even the walls within myself.” Downey strategically began playing with logic, as a character in a Lewis Carroll novel. Only his fantasy world was now reality, and changing the mindset along with beginning training on how to properly and successfully navigate his new world became priority.

The thing about blindness is it cuts across racial, social and economical barriers. The circumstances can often connect rather than alienate, and Downey has found a tremendous amount of connection. Take the architect from Guam who contacted him after viewing the recent National AIA #ilookup video. The Guam-based architect also lost his sight to brain tumor removal surgery. He called Downey and said, “I lost my vision … oh … I mean my sight!” and laughed. This is the sort of connection Downey forever stores. But this synergy is more than a unification between the blind. It also creates a sense of community with all people, and ultimately, what architecture ideally creates: a sense of space and community. Downey’s resilience inspires anyone, and is accompanied with many lessons we all can learn. When he teaches he makes sure to instill that architecture is a creative endeavor relying on your brain. “Your mind must tell your pencil what to draw or your mouse how to move,” Downey said. Just because one loses sight does not mean the creative process must atrophy—unless one allows that—which could happen to anyone—blind or otherwise. “It’s one thing to provide access into space, yet quite another to provide access into the larger agenda of architecture,” Downey said. Architecture at its core should be about the experience. “It’s important for us to design for delight in architecture when it is not seen and/or not heard, when viewed from a seated position with the view point and vanishing line set from a lower height; or how it is experienced throughout different stages of life from childhood through senior years.”

These are the sorts of views and philosophies one is privy to when taking his Accessibility Course offered this year. “Architecture Beyond Sight,” (brought to you by AIACC and aecKnowledge) was designed to reach beyond how to create structures suitable for the visually impaired. “It is important to expand the notion of inclusive design beyond mere compliance with accessibility regulations,” Downey said. Making a structure accessible often happens after the design process. At this juncture in the progression, there is compliance mending, appending and resolving. Again, afterwards. But what if at the impetus of the creation, accessibility was part of the strategy? Downey explores this in a larger, more conceptual frame in his 2013 Ted Talk, “Design with the blind in mind.” This process could possibly result in a more inclusive, better city for all. More effective mass transit, wider sidewalks, etc. There is much to learn from this 12 minute video; even more from his accessibility course.

In all of his presentations, whether addressing the architect, designer, artist, or human, the themes are familiar: step out of your shoes and into someone else’s. ”Architecture Beyond Sight,” doesn’t necessarily take one through the mechanics and methods of accessibility regulation. “Anyone can get that from a book,” Downey said, referring to code regulation. What he is contributing is context. One who takes his course becomes more acutely aware of a world with limited sight (not vision) with Downey’s tangible and concrete illustrations. Such as the case of the brass giraffe.

Photo credit: Richard Scaff

If one does not see what is in front of them, blocking a clear pathway, then object and the person are apt to collide. Sort of like stumbling upon a tea party with anthropomorphized characters, only perhaps more dangerous, physically as well as mentally. Only because Downey was with his friend was he warned about the bronze giraffe head protruding out of a storefront. Now, he could have potentially been physically injured by hitting his head—but this is the sort of occurrence that creates apprehension about traveling independently—a much more mental and emotional sort of incapacitation. “If someone is constantly apprehensive about moving from block to block, then it is easier and better to just stay home,” Downey said. Which is all the more reason to design with the blind in mind from the outset.

With 7 significant projects currently underway—from collaborating on a private residence with William Pettus, to the LightHouse for the Blind with Mark Cavagnero—not to mention his speaking engagements all over the country, and teaching accessibility and universal design the University of California, Berkeley, Downey still finds time each morning to row with the East Bay Rowing Club on the Oakland Estuary. Balance and staying fit are important for everyone, obviously. When one is blind, however, there are fewer opportunities. Everything involving crew can be accessed in a multisensory way. For example, Downey receives all his signals through rhythm. “You don’t rely on rhythm with your eyes,” he explained.

Daily life, sports, work, art all play important parts in our lives—sometimes more so if one is an architect. “Architecture is, at heart, a creative endeavor and relies on alternative points of views to design richer environments,” Downey said. There is always an alternative to the standardized way of creating; of designing; of doing. Just because one seems to have fallen down the allegorical rabbit hole doesn’t mean the work—the life ends. It’s only a different way to arrive at all sorts of outlandish yet remarkable insights.