Haleakala, Maui at 7000 ft elevation. Photo by Andy Graydon
I have always been driven to explore, learn, and create- even when I was very young.
I do not remember the first few houses I lived in. My parents moved around a lot. I was conceived in Tucson, born in San Francisco, and lived my first couple of years in New Jersey. Then my parents moved to Maui in 1975- and that I remember. My dad was a General Practice Medical Doctor before I was born, and served in the Air Force during Vietnam. He was stationed in Guam, where my older sister was born 20 months before me. After being discharged, my dad changed his specialty to Pediatrics (in Tucson & SF) then Dermatology (NYC). He then accepted a job offer on the island of Maui and we moved there when I was three years old.
I was a “funny” little kid, often confounding my parents by following my creativity and curiosity in sometimes goofy ways. I would push a running hose into the soft red Maui mud, and keep pushing until it would stop after several feet of depth. Then I couldn’t pull it up. So, with the experiment finished, I’d turn off the water and walk away. Or I’d use 50 yards of dental floss to create an intricate spiderweb spanning my entire bedroom, with scores of back-and-forth strands. These actions did not amuse my parents at all- I was creating a type of hardship for them (new hose needed or not able to move around in my room). But I was just curious, and rarely deterred.
as a toddler with my paternal grandfather (cuddling with toy trucks instead of stuffed animals)
I drew a lot. Played with Legos for countless hours. I would take apart toys and re-imagine them. My best friend and I, in our early years, would invent characters with special powers and act out extravagant “stories” running all over the landscapes we had: beaches, a golf course, neighbor’s yards.
When I was six years old, I came to the realization that human beings designed and built buildings. And I knew, then and there, I wanted to do that. It helped that I grew up in a really well designed house, designed decades earlier by a renowned architect from Hawai’i named Charles Dickey. It was a Chinese-style courtyard house, surrounded on three sides by rooms and one by a wall. Every room was connected to an exterior covered hallway that ran on all sides of the courtyard. There was a wonderful garden in the center, with different themed areas. Different types of bamboo screens were in the garden here and there. There was even a pond (in the shape of Maui) with a small bridge across it, bordered by black lava rocks. There were large toads that lived in the pond that would croak and hop around at night.
And we lived near the coast- easy walking distance. Even at five years old I would walk down to the coast on my own. My friend lived at one end of the neighborhood, and had a high stone wall as a sea-break right on the North Shore. Varying surf and tide pools were our playground. We’d catch little fish, get scared by moray eels, and eventually learned to surf.
curious little dude- and right next to a hose
My parents divorced when I was seven. And the moving began again. Upcountry to higher elevation, then Oahu during middle school. Then I moved away from my mom and siblings and back to Maui with my father and step-mother, by choice. Back on Maui for my high school years, we lived in one of the highest elevation homes on the slopes of Haleakala (“House of the Sun”) at about 4300 ft elevation. Cold, damp, musty, and often foggy in a forest of eucalyptus and wattle trees- it was totally new and different. And very isolated, without neighbors close by, and nothing behind the house except a 10,023 ft high mountain to explore. I spent more time out behind our tiny little house than I did even at the beaches when I was little. Just checking out the life of what lived there.
As I got older I really got into surfing. The North Shore of Maui, where the wind and surf is rough, is not often beautiful and elegant like Oahu’s “seven mile miracle” shoreline. Yet the draw to be out on the water was inescapable. First with fishing, then body boarding, then full-on surfing. The north shore of all the Hawai’ian islands are unpredictable and, at times, dangerous. It takes a lot of observation power to stay safe. It helps to hone an awareness of nature’s patterns. Because of that, being on the water whether it is calm or rough you become fully immersed and a part of nature.
All those creative and natural experiences influenced my work and process.
I first studied architecture at Washington State University, for four years. I started at 17 years old, was immature, underachieved and barely missed out in acceptance to “upper division” in the program. I switched to fine arts and really got into it. I took eight studios in two semesters and got straight A’s. I spent my off hours drawing and painting with my friends there. It was full-time art and I loved it.
My paternal grandparents let me know they were very disappointed I had moved away from the “sure” paycheck path of architecture. They said I was not my father’s son, as he had attended Yale and Columbia and became a fine doctor. I was falling well short. That was a life changing moment.
I pivoted back to Architecture and was accepted to Arizona State University in 1993. In my first architecture studio there I was lucky enough to get an instructor who was fresh out of school himself, and pushed me in just the right way and things started to click for me. I started making connections between thoughts I had around art and applying them to designing buildings. In that first year I completed the first two years of studios in one year, and got As. I ended up being the #1 student to make upper division that year, and go on to win several design awards in school as well as the highest GPA award for my architecture class (thank you to all the great faculty there!). I ended up working my senior year with the renowned architects of Jones Studio, and would work for them for years afterwards.
During those semesters at ASU I continued taking art studios (mostly figure painting) and producing art. I hung out with and dated artists, partied with artists, etc. I did not want to leave creating art behind, but did want to make sure my (now deceased) grandparents’ hopes for me would be reached.
I decided to attend The Architectural Association of London (known as “the AA”) for two years as a Master Degree Equivalency. I struggled there mightily for a few months, then clicked in a big way again. I graduated with honors (one of 3 students to do so out of a class of 150). I was offered jobs in London and Europe- but wanted to return to Phoenix to start a career and study urban sprawl. (I’ve long been concerned with how damaging urban sprawl is to humans and nature.)
While I was applying to the AA in London, my Arizona girlfriend (now wife) was also looking for grad schools. Maria already had a Bachelor’s Degree in Architecture from University of Arizona, and wanted to get an Masters of Fine arts in sculpture. She attended the great Slade School of Art at the University College London. And again I ended up hanging out with artists as much as architects.
At the AA students are able to choose their instructor. I chose Götz Stöckmann for both years because his method was the most free of all the studios, and because I knew him as a visiting professor at ASU and had a bit of a friendship with him. He is one of the most amazing thinkers and designers I know of and I still feel fortunate to spend all the time with him that I did. I even was able to work in his Frankfurt studio during my last year in London. He is still a very dear friend to Maria and me.
Maria, Götz, and Ola (another friend from the AA) 2002
One of the most important aspects to learning from and working with Götz is that he was (and still is) professionally producing both architecture and art simultaneously. It was Götz’s model that we followed in creating coLAB studio (co-LAB was conceived to contain two cooperative laboratories, in both art and architecture).
Maria and I moved back to Arizona, started working again at Jones Studio in 1999. A few years later, just before my 35th birthday, I remembered a promise to myself that I would be a licensed architect and have my own studio by that age. I put in my two weeks notice at the end of 2006 and started running coLAB studio full time in 2007 while acquiring my license.
In the meantime, we produced a son. He sometimes sits in some of the meetings at coLAB studio when he has the opportunity, listening intently.
Over the years, I’ve continually questioned myself regarding my essence and professional compass. After all, I’ve tried so many different avenues; An employee in a great small studio, a business owner, an artist, an architect, a sole proprietor, a board member in community service, an employer/mentor, part of a collaborative, a community advocate, part of a tech start-up, a public art manager, and occasionally as a university associate faculty. Darting around, trying things out, experimenting, experiencing what I can… very much like the little kid I was growing up.
Facilitating an architecture workshop for teens, in conjunction with SMOCA.
The constant I have noticed over the past 30+ years is my desire to strengthen connections between people and living systems- particularly systems in nature. Having spent so much time, often in solitude observing nature, I have a deep respect in how living systems work so well and so automatically. That includes an interest in thriving human communities, well-running governments, happy families, healthy businesses and economies, systems of human guilds- all of which are living systems.
Though this may be most noticeably visible in coLAB studio’s public art, there are threads in the architecture projects too. Sometimes the connections are not made visibly. Sometimes they are in the process of a project more than the final outcome, such as community interactions we have engaged in.
I have been lucky enough to work for two great “organic” architects, having spent a year building models for Will Bruder in 1995-96, and then employed by Eddie Jones for 10 years. They both really understand the structural and visual compositions of nature and how to turn those into architecture. Götz, too, as he is a bit of a nature-worshiper, though in a Classical European way. Less about form and structure, more about conceptualizing and abstracting ideas from Nature. They all also each believe in something deep within themselves and strive to produce creative work that expresses that depth. All reasons why I gravitated to them to begin with.
coLAB studio public art called “Our Nature” from 2020
Along the way, Maria and I have developed a few themes stemming from our beliefs:
Caring for the natural environment and human beings, working through projects to enhance living systems and appreciation for such systems.
A strong skepticism of “modernity” in many of its traditionally understood forms. In the myopic view, we often prefer natural and sensuous materials and direct connections to nature’s living systems and biophilia. We think a lot about creating new languages of ornamentation, which we mostly experiment on with public art- though occasionally have the ability to include in our buildings. In the wider view, we try to find ways to reengage people with living systems in every interaction we engage in.
A desire to slow things down within the world so people have a better chance to recognize, appreciate, and be a part of living systems. For 500 years our world has moved towards optimizing efficiency instead of life. Efficiency has helped the world so much, but it is time to take the next step in our evolution to incorporate awareness of all life into our actions.
A like/dislike relationship with technology because “tech” creates a greater degree of efficiency and also separation from most real living systems. Though we also use technology at times to re-create bonds to nature and love using building science to create better structures.
Deep in Iao Valley, Maui, 2021
On the personal side…
I still surf whenever I can. I have three surfboards in Arizona, three on Maui (thanks to my parents’ willingness to hold them), and one in San Diego County (thanks to my younger sister and her husband). Maria and I have also taken up stand-up paddle boarding in the lakes of Arizona. Not quite the same immersion as ocean surfing, but we have had many great days of connecting to Arizona’s amazing environments.
I’ve always been into hiking- something my father exposed me to as far back as I can remember. I prefer to hike into areas where there are no man-made sights to see- or, to quote Joe Versus The Volcano: to get “away from the things of Man.”
I also love taking really long walks through cities. Any city and any size. Jerusalem, New York, London, Paris, Budapest, San Francisco, Chicago, Seattle, Portland, Seville, Lisbon, Honolulu, Tokyo, Tangier, Dahab, Vienna, Tel Aviv, Berlin, Frankfurt, Munich, York, Newquay, Amsterdam, and Edinburgh to name a few I’ve visited.
I have been a huge fan of music since high school. With some of my friends as great influences I became a voracious listener. I started playing drum kits when I was 15. My high school had a kit set up in the chapel and apparently no rules on who could play it. I’ve never been an outstanding drummer, but I know music well enough to be a useful member of a band. In 1995 I played a couple dozen gigs for a Tempe band when their normal drummer left for the summer. I’m proud I was able to play at the historic Long Wong’s on Mill a couple of times, Big Fish Pub, Atomic Cafe, Nita’s Hideaway, and other venues. I continue to collect music and play. I’ve been playing with a talented and close friend at his recording studio for over a dozen years now.
I’ve taken up an addiction for the Ukulele in the past couple of years. It is a great reminder for me of where I come from, but also a new avenue to experiment with, as I love to play hard core punk on it as much as the classics, and also develop my own compositions.
I also enjoy reading. The only publication I regularly read is The Economist Magazine, which I feel has the most balanced point of view and high quality writing. I read a lot of non-fiction about the built environment or texts by new and old wise masters (ie: Richard Sennett, Epictetus). In the past two decades I have rarely read non-fiction, and when I do read fiction I gravitate to 19th century literature because I find the exquisite language pleasurable (ie: Mary Shelley, Herman Melville).
I have three great siblings and more than a dozen amazing cousins, plus aunts and uncles. My Dad and Step-Mom continue to be a grounding force for me and full of Aloha. My friends and collogues constantly push me in positive directions. I am grateful.
