The movement for the "container" house, one I remember first truly being intimately exposed to (which I consider more then a blankly thumbing through a journal article) is based upon a lecture given by LOT-EK at Kent State University in 2003. The premise of re-using an existing pre-manufactured material (shipping containers) and extending their viable life was interesting. The modular construction meant that solutions were simply limited to creatively finding a manner to fit out the interior as usable space, structurally join and frame units, insulate and puncture the skin and carve out the necessary allowances for infrastructure (mechanical, communication and electrical services). The argument that these containers were more likely to be discarded than reused (which means typically shipping empty to where they were packed and sent from in the first place) was compelling enough to accept that creating a new truly machined modular aesthetic was secondary to the primary goal of salvaging resources.
In fact this was typically more comfortable to my own sense of performative architecture (performative meaning where a secondary goal of accomplishing more then simple shelter or space making is attempted through rigorous study and may therefore actively affect the primary goal) than the argument for modern prefabricated housing being cheaper and less wasteful and resonates with the associated aesthetic much more responsibly. A container is expected to be shaped as an extruded box, with the various elements being broken along the module of the container (typically as the primary element) with adjoining or adjacent accoutrement being given a secondary value. However the logic of modern prefab housing emulating this modular construction based solely on imitation severely limited the aesthetic and even the imagination of the form. In fact the argument that the less wasteful more cost efficient design was successful in use somehow took a back seat to alluding to successful contextual vernacular which had evolved over what ever time human habitation had occurred within the region.
The container modulus as aesthetic had somehow taken over. The building was supposed to be prefab and in order to sell the idea it also had to look prefab. The Sear's homes of the early 1900's, themselves a glowing example of successful prefabricated housing technology and construction, look nothing like how one would expect a factory built house to look. If anything the close allusion to standard housing construction was a more successful argument of the "machine aesthetic" because it was an attempt to prove that through machination that industrialized home building could indeed replace the craftsman builder and offer a more efficient alternative.
The natural evolution of the Sears home was that the model could not weather the boom and bust economic cycles where local tradesmen were able to offer home building at more cost efficient options whilst allowing for customization and personal design to take hold (again the cycle repeats and whole developments of hundreds if not thousands of homes are based from 3 or 4 master house plans and customized through use of applique to give each it's own distinct identity. Wanting to be different, just like everyone else wants to be). So follows the modern prefabricated house. Offering so much in the way of options that the cost effective argument is moot. There is no metric from which to base an empirical study and no manner of record keeping to prove that the designs are more efficient in use nor construction.
Thus the shipping container model strengthens its argument if only in need to re-use existing materials the designs are offering what no other prefabricated system can, a logical reasoning behind the obvious module. While I may or may not agree with the aesthetic per se, I can understand and even appreciate the argument behind it.
Imagine my surprise however when confronted with the polka dot structure whose image is shown above. A foray into the prefabricated modular home building arena which stresses to argue against the very logic for its existence. Aggregated in ConHouse, a how to guide for container housing with the agenda that everyone can (and possibly should) afford themselves a shipping container home, this particular design by jure kotnik architect for a "weekend house" is based from a specially designed and constructed container, built solely to be used for housing. The idea of reusing materials is thrown away for the argument of cost. While the actual pricing area is a little unknown the argument that this particular module is the most cost effective and spatially adaptable seems highly suspect, especially when proffered that this particular design can be altered "as needed so that the ConHouse can grow or contract...". The resultant is a home that has an arguable cost and use but confines itself to an aesthetic that it doesn't not actually belong. So why follow the aesthetic? Is there something terribly romantic or historic that the container offers? Is there more opportunity offered by the structure or design that would become unavailable if there were a pitched roof or more articulated footprint? When the reasoning behind the base system is deviated from what makes the new system have any inherent value (other than allegorical)?
When giant pink polka dots are the least offending portion of an offered scheme one must consider that something is truly amiss.
