The nursery school model of the workplace that the guys at Google introduced to the world a quarter century ago may have exhausted its novelty. It was supposed to usher in a new era in how we think about work and the workday, collaboration, innovation, and creativity. It spawned the term “creative office space.” It was according to Google’s straight-out-of-college founders modeled not so much on the nursery school play yard as it was the college dorm (obviously) although like a play yard there are few rooms to speak of and instead mainly areas for computer stations, snacks, and playing around. It was supposed to replace the vast mid-century cubicle farms (which had replaced offices along corridors) and convey relaxed confidence in contrast to the old---fashioned uptight office environments of our fathers and grandfathers.
Fifty years ago, libraries had already ditched the reading room which they too saw as old-fashioned and uptight, but also mainly because safety, security and staffing budgets had by the 1970s become their main concern. Designing for surveillance by as few staff as possible across the entire library floor overrode designing anything resembling a place where people wanted to be. By then too, dining rooms on university campuses and at department stores which had until the mid-century enjoyed high regard for their gravity and glamour had morphed into amorphous “food courts.” Train stations and airports got concourses instead of waiting rooms. The single-family home got split levels, conversation pits and open kitchens.
Avant-garde modern architecture long ago cast the room onto the trash heap of history with the introduction of the “free plan” (Le Corbusier) and “free section” (Loos) that new materials (steel and steel reinforced concrete) and modern construction techniques (steel and concrete frames) had afforded. While there is still no way to entirely avoid rooms in buildings (bedrooms and bathrooms, classrooms and gymnasiums, concert halls and theaters) most architects view rooms and the walls that enclose them as old-fashioned and to be avoided.
But a room is for more than shelter and a wall’s purpose goes beyond holding up the roof. Annie Murphy Paul in The Extended Mind (2021) a compendium of recent and on-going research in the sciences of the mind shares that the innovation of enclosure afforded by walls (rooms) that emerged millennia ago yielded a revolutionary extension of our cognitive powers. As Colin Ellard an environmental psychologist and neuroscientist (University of Waterloo, Canada) has articulated “the wall was designed to protect us from the cognitive load of having to keep track of the activities of strangers.” With the emergence of cities and their crowds of unacquainted people, or just other people, urban residents built rooms-- places in which to read, think and write alone.
We hardly need the empirical findings of neuroscience to validate for us the feeling we receive when we step into a well sized and proportioned room, a feeling that for the most part is one of wellbeing, the quiet that affords the ability to be fully in attendance free of distraction, to focus on our feelings and thoughts. But we do now know from the empirical evidence that it is precisely a room’s quality of sensory reduction that affords its occupants optimal attention, memory, and cognition. As neuroscientist Moshe Bar (Bar-Ilan University, Israel) has found “a high mental load consistently diminishes originality and creativity...” while conversely when people are relieved of the cognitive load imposed by sensory saturated environments, they immediately become more creative.
Even better, a public room affords both privacy and community, presence and belonging, focused and flexible minds. And it is, it turns out, the ability to toggle back and forth in place between these two states of being that stimulates the highest quality cognitive activity, a facility that the well-configured public room is best equipped to deliver, a facility of which in a world of both lonely and hyper-connected lives there is never enough. And while the room has been with us for 3,500 years or more it nevertheless seems self-evident to us that when it comes to innovation and creativity in the designs of rooms there is always room for more.
The entirely open interior environment never was a good idea no matter the application (home, office, school, or library) and only worked when in combination with an array of rooms that offered alternative ways of being including being alone, alone together, and together—a phenomenon psychologists have recognized as “intermittent collaboration.” The nursery-school model of the workplace that Google and its imitators dreamed up in the 1990s and the open-stack model that librarians forced on us in the 1970s had their benefits, but like all innovations such benefits could and should have accumulated on top of and integrated with what we already had and knew—our long history of and experience with well-crafted public rooms the benefits which still matter-- perhaps now more than ever.