Surrounded by visionaries; has a great many
difficult, seemingly unsolvable problems to wrestle
with; and belongs to a firm that gets tremendous
recognition for its work as it creates landmark after
landmark
Frank Gehry's acclaimed
new Walt Disney Concert Hall in downtown Los
Angeles is all sweeping curves, strange angles, and huge
glistening slabs. It is a steel flower so revolutionary
that when Gehry first designed it in the late 1980s, it
seemed impossible to build. In fact, work stopped in the
mid-1990s as costs soared.
But while the Disney project languished, there was
another revolution going on at Gehry Partners LLP, a
technological one. And computer scientist Dennis Shelden
was in the thick of it.
Gehry Partners had begun using software developed for
aircraft design, a computer modeling system called
CATIA. CATIA, short for computer-aided three-dimensional
interactive application, got its first major workout in
the design and construction of the striking Guggenheim
Museum in Bilbao, Spain, completed in 1997.
The Bilbao Guggenheim was already under way when
Shelden joined the firm in 1997 as director of R and D.
He was hired to work on software that would let
designers collaborate with colleagues working at other
sites. But as one of the most technically savvy people
at the firm, Shelden soon found himself tapped to extend
the capabilities of CATIA by developing original
software. For CATIA had limitations. Shelden explains:
"In an airplane, a bolt is basically a bolt. But in
architecture, a wall isn't just a wall. It has different
behaviors. It is two lines on a piece of paper. It
encloses a space. It represents a structure. It's a
boundary in an energy model."
R and D for Buildings:: When Dennis Shelden looks at the Walt Disney
Concert Hall in Los Angeles, he sees traces of
the technologies he helped develop.
One of the first challenges he tackled was to create
software to make the "swoopy" shapes of a Seattle museum
design buildable. Shelden created software that rendered
curved surface models into organizations of panels that
took into account the structural and support
requirements imposed on the glass, aluminum, and
stainless steel elements of the complex design. Another
project he worked on at the time involved using software
to analyze the constraints of certain building materials
to extend the possible. For example, after designers
determined how much a panel of glass could bend without
breaking, they found that curved glass surfaces could be
built without forming special panes of glass, as long as
the curvature was limited.
Coping with these problems at Gehry's firm enhanced
the technical tools at hand, tools that became a boon
when the Disney effort was relaunched in 1998. Today,
when he looks at the stunning structure, completed last
year, Shelden sees the traces in the building forms of
the technologies he helped develop.
Shelden's career path resembles a Gehry building—it
is hard to find a straight line anywhere. Like many
30-something engineers today, he got his hands on
computers as a preteen and programmed for fun throughout
his adolescence. Meanwhile, he shuttled around the world
as his parents' job assignments changed—his father was
a technical specialist in chemical engineering for the
United Nations, his mother worked for Swissair.
Regularly, though, his family would vacation in Boston,
and every time they drove past the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology (MIT), they would point it out
to him as a mecca.
So when the time came for college, the place to go was
obvious. "I felt like a salmon going upstream when I got
to Cambridge," he recalls. He had initially planned to
be a computer science major, but he spent his last year
of high school near Stuttgart, Germany, as an exchange
student, and suddenly, the computer profession seemed
stifling. Instead, he entered college as a double major
in physics and philosophy, but quickly found out he was
good in neither field.
Eventually he graduated with a B.S. in art and design
in architecture, worked briefly as an architect, then as
a carpenter, and then, falling back on the
computer-aided design (CAD) courses he had taken at MIT,
as a CAD consultant. He then joined a start-up in
California that was developing technology to do energy
system simulations for buildings. Working on the user
interfaces, he programmed them in Smalltalk.
Meanwhile, he took engineering courses at the
University of California at Berkeley as an extension
student. In 1994 the CAD company failed, and Shelden
went back to MIT, getting a master's degree in
information technology and, later, a Ph.D. in
computation. While he was at MIT, he worked on a project
backed by Gehry Partners on collaborative design,
intended to facilitate joint work by engineers and
architects, and the firm offered Shelden a job, which he
took in 1997.
Now, Shelden and the growing group of EEs and computer
professionals at Gehry are taking their technology out
from behind the scenes. They've spun off a company,
Gehry Technologies LLC, in Los Angeles, to develop and
market their tools to other architects. Shelden is chief
technology officer of the new venture, which expects to
have its first products out by midyear. "As part of an
architecture firm, we were behaving an awful lot like a
technology firm," Shelden says. The group's Holy Grail
is to convert the industry at every level to these new
design tools, to the point that the archaic but still
ubiquitous paper blueprints will be a thing of the past.
Today, Shelden explains, an architect's vision is
first realized as a drawing on paper; that paper is
interpreted by engineers and then again by builders.
"Potentially," he says, "we could compress that to the
point where an architect can directly affect the making
of things." And that, he adds, gazing out over a forest
of architectural models, would be radical.