Being Present: LA DALLMAN’s Grace La on Academia, Practice, and Balancing Thinking with Making
Photo by Maggie Janik
By Gail Kutac
Grace La is a principal of LA DALLMAN, a design practice co-founded with James Dallman, and internationally recognized for works that integrate architecture, engineering, and site. She is also Professor and Chair of the Department of Architecture at the Harvard University Graduate School of Design (GSD). La is the first tenured Korean American at the GSD and the second woman Chair of the Department of Architecture. She received her M.Arch with thesis distinction from Harvard GSD, winning the Clifford Wong Housing Prize. She graduated AB, magna cum laude, from Harvard College in Visual and Environmental Studies.
LA DALLMAN is noted for projects that expand the architect’s agency in the civic recalibration of infrastructure, public space, and unusual building types. Producing a highly diverse range of projects, from bridges to houses, LA DALLMAN is also renowned for the firm’s ability to transform mid-century modern buildings and obsolete structures. LA DALLMAN has received numerous professional design honors and delivered more than seventy lectures on the firm’s work. Her firm’s new monograph, Middle Front, is forthcoming in 2025. Demonstrating a unique ability to link the profession and the academy, La hosts Talking Practice, a podcast renowned for its discourse on design practice.
GK: Now that the school year has started up again, what are you most excited about in your role as Professor and Chair of the Department of Architecture at Harvard GSD, and what do you think will be most important for students to focus on in 2025? It’s a big role, stepping into the shoes of Walter Gropius, Harry Cobb, Rafael Moneo, and a host of luminaries in the field; tell us more about this.
GL: Architecture is an incredibly big tent—perhaps now more than ever—and as a spatial medium, architecture is deeply influenced by so many factors. In my role as Chair, I’ve been thinking a lot about how to strengthen and define the “core” of the discipline, while also expanding its boundaries. This means that I’ve been considering what aspects of the curriculum must be essentialized and where we must lead new investigations. In terms of some primary concerns, I am committed to developing students’ understanding of the many ways to “read” a site, to make form, and to think critically about contemporary societal issues. I’m also very proud that our students are advancing knowledge in such areas as design computation and how to think responsibly and critically about sustainability. I feel fortunate to be a part of the training of the next generation.
In the Department of Architecture, we offer an array of core and elective design studios. Perhaps one of the best aspects of my role as Chair is to curate the studio faculty and I am so proud that it consists of an incredible, international array of architects. In particular, we’ve had some outstanding “madame architects” who have become wonderful friends and colleagues. To give you an idea of the caliber of these incredible women, I must name some: Michelle Chang; Elizabeth Christoforetti; Olayinka Dosekun-Adjei; Iman Fayyad; Jenny French; Jeanne Gang; Elle Gerdeman; Lina Ghotmeh; Wenjing Huang; Elisa Iturbe; Hyojin Kwon; Clover Lee; Regine Leibinger; Cara Liberatore; Jing Liu; Toshiko Mori; Farshid Mousavi; Nancy Nichols; Angela Pang, Renata Sentkiewicz; Karen Stein; Lexi Tsien; and Elizabeth Whittaker. Of course, we are also led by the first woman dean for our school, Sarah Whiting, and have incredible women faculty teaching across the subjects of art, history, theory, and technology: Ewa Harabasz, Erika Naginski; Holly Samuelson; Karen Schiff; Christine Smith, to name just a few. Soon, we will also have on board Xristina Argyros (Greece/UK), Dorte Mandrup (Denmark), and Elli Mosayebi (Switzerland) among others as well! I feel profoundly fortunate to be in an environment with so many talented women from around the globe.
The Marsupial Bridge offers a new bike and pedestrian-friendly connection across the Milwaukee River by weaving the pedestrian bridge through an underutilized space. Leveraging an existing 1925 viaduct for structural support, the bridge’s nickname, “Marsupial Bridge,” refers to the way in which the new bridge is carried in the “pouch” of the viaduct. Awarded numerous international honors, the bridge transforms this hidden territory of the city into a new public space. Photo by Jim Brozek.
At the landing of the Marsupial Bridge, the Media Garden announces its presence and welcomes pedestrians and cyclists. The Media Garden became the site of regatta events, film festivals, dance performances, pop-up art, weddings, and musical performances. The “lightslabs” softly illuminate the existing structure and provide a loose configuration of seating to support the numerous cultural events. The popular destination was unfortunately later demolished, demonstrating the challenges of public funding and maintenance. Photo by LA DALLMAN.
Now let's go back a little bit—tell me about why you studied architecture and how you chose where you studied architecture.
As a Harvard College undergraduate, my concentration was in Visual & Environmental Studies, and I was lucky to take classes in the Carpenter Center—the only building designed by Le Corbusier in the U.S. At that time, my medium was oil paint, and the studio was located at the top of the building. I was mesmerized by the balanced control of daylight in this studio, made possible by his famous brise soleil innovative concrete louvers, which control excessive sunlight. Also in the building, I had a favorite seminar room with a brightly lined, red skylight that hovered over the discussion table. Spending nearly all my time in the Carpenter Center, I ended up meeting my husband and partner in practice in the woodshop. This building was seminal for me in so many ways! These apertures and spaces profoundly influenced the quality of work and conversation taking place throughout the building, making me realize the fundamental impact of architecture on day-to-day life.
I was hooked on architecture and couldn’t wait to study it further! As a liberal arts institution, however, Harvard College discouraged its students in pre-professionalizing, so there were few architecture courses available. Applying to Harvard GSD early (as a junior) was one way to access serious architecture studios and courses, so I combined my senior year of the College with my first year of graduate studies. Initially, landing at the GSD was partially for this logistical advantage. The other reason was because I was fascinated by the work of two GSD Chairs: Rafael Moneo, the Spanish architect celebrated for his crafted, civic projects, and Mack Scogin, the American architect renowned for an inventive, scrappy spirit. I feel fortunate to have been able to experience the pedagogies of both these individuals, who were so different from one another, and therefore had so much to offer their students.
“I am committed to developing students’ understanding of the many ways to ‘read’ a site, to make form, and to think critically about contemporary societal issues. ”
Tell me about your experiences working for various offices in Europe and the U.S, before starting your practice. What did you learn that you still apply today?
Before starting my own practice, I worked in London, Vienna, and Boston at both large and small firms. These were wonderful cities to do one’s internship years and I valued the opportunity to get to know these places. In the European context, I found that the exposure to contemporary detailing for older buildings was incredibly valuable. I was also so impressed with architecture’s ability to activate the city with new forms of urban space, without diminishment to the existing fabric.
In terms of what I learned in those experiences, as simple as it is, I realized the importance of asking questions—not only internally, to inquire about a specific aspect of a design project or to seek advice from a consultant team, but also externally, to actively converse with scientists, economists, journalists, people outside our field. Architecture is a living, dynamic discipline in that our projects live on in unpredictable ways, beyond our involvement, and we need worldly knowledge and sensitivity to keep a finger on the pulse.
Sited in a forested edge along Lake Michigan, the Pavilion House articulates its program in three pavilions to REST, LIVE and PLAY. Each pavilion is punctuated by a de-centered oculus, which migrates its position for the most optimal spatial location, tipping the roof as necessary. Made of locally sourced materials and by regional craftsmen, the house provides techniques of natural ventilation and daylight, celebrating the connection to the site through carefully positioned apertures. Photo by Kevin Miyazaki.
In LA DALLMAN’s ethos statement, something that stands out to me is the mention of being "balanced between thinking and making." I'd love to hear more about that mindset and LA DALLMAN’s origins.
We are in the process of ruminating on this very subject as part of our forthcoming monograph, Middle Front, so thank you for asking! We began our practice in the Midwest, in Wisconsin, and we still do quite a bit of work there. Some might say that “everything is made in the Midwest!” While this is a bit exaggerated, Wisconsin is a region with quite a diversified industrial base (unlike, say Michigan, which historically centered around car manufacturing). As a result, we’ve appreciated broad access to fabrication and the building trades—perhaps it is apt to say that our practice was cast in the crucible of the rust belt. We are grateful to be involved in a diverse range of work, from bridges to furniture; houses to masterplans; new buildings and old ones; in the country and in the city. The range is unusual for a closely held practice, but we enjoy the diversity and cross-pollination between projects, and the collaboration with our highly talented, accomplished team.
Because we work at so many scales and typologies, we find ourselves asking a variety of questions to inspire our design process and this creates need to “balance between thinking and making.” For example, what does it mean to build a bridge today—can it be more than a connection between two spots in the city? Can it play a role in public life, providing much-needed civic space? These are philosophical questions that are central to how we think, conceptually, about a project. At the same time, we are deeply invested in the physical realization of our work (as opposed to the practice of “paper architecture”). So we are also asking questions like, how can we make that better? How can we detail that material more artfully and with a higher degree of engineering or innovation? How can the building be made in an affordable way? How can we collaborate with tradespeople, who have specialized local knowledge and expertise? Our process oscillates between these kinds of questions and we seek to build up a network of responses to inform our projects.
What are your priorities for the firm in 2024 and the coming years and can you tell me about your podcast, Talking Practice?
At LA DALLMAN, top priorities include the completion of some significant, complex projects that we’ve been working on for some time—we are finishing our first building in Florida, on Sanibel Island, which involves a residence that integrates into a sensitive coastal landscape; and finalizing an important phase of work on the Door Country Granary, which transforms a 1900s abandoned granary into a civic space. We are also involved in several long-range studies to understand the challenges facing mid-century modern buildings. This is an important and broad subject, as much of the world’s building stock is mid-century—now at 50-75 years old. Questions about how to cope inventively with aging buildings are challenging in both philosophical and pragmatic terms. We also look forward to releasing our monograph, which will be an exciting milestone to celebrate 25 years in practice.
As for the podcast, Talking Practice, it began as an experiment to encourage designers to reveal ideas about what motivates their “practice,” and how they conduct practice, rather than focus on their “products” (e.g. buildings, designed objects, etc.). Because the medium of a podcast is auditory, without visuals, I have found that practitioners are willing to open up in intimate ways through conversation, as opposed to presenting design work in a formal, lecture format. Last I heard, the podcast had more than 149,000 downloads. Of course, this is nothing compared to podcasts like This American Life, but the level of engagement confirms that this nerdy subject matter is filling a void in the niche discourse on practice. I hope to carve the time to continue to do this work!
“Architecture is a living, dynamic discipline in that our projects live on in unpredictable ways, beyond our involvement, and we need worldly knowledge and sensitivity to keep a finger on the pulse.”
Looking back at it all, what have been the biggest challenges? How did you and your partner, James, manage through perceived disappointments or setbacks?
There is a saying that “when architecture is treated only as an instrument of capital, the architect is the building’s only friend.” Perhaps one of the toughest challenges in this field is to find an alignment between your client’s ideas, your own values, and the obligations of architecture to the built environment. When you find common ground, incredible work can be achieved. In that sense, architecture is perhaps one of the greatest negotiated art forms. If an alignment cannot be achieved, it can be a demoralizing experience for everyone. Developing a nose for people of integrity, with whom you share values, is as determinative of success as any other parameter of budget, program, site, or fee.
There have been very few times in our practice when we’ve had to walk away from a client due to a lack of common ground, but in those rare cases, parting ways was ultimately best for everyone involved. We once had a celebrity client who asked us to design a greenhouse for his famous wife (a news anchor). Not only did we have all sorts of disagreements on how the greenhouse should be made, the materials sourced, the use of local tradespeople, and the overall way in which the structure should occupy the sensitive landscape, but he also stiffed us! Every time we saw his wife on television, it became a running joke to say aloud, “You owe us money!” It was an instant reminder that integrity among the people involved is so important. When James and I look back on that project, we see that though it was challenging to perceive in the moment, disengaging was indeed the right decision. While incredibly disappointing, it’s important to remember that architecture is a long game, and cultivating a nose for people is one of the most important skills that one can develop.
This post-tensioned concrete and steel-clad residence sits atop one of the great, deep ravines feeding water into Lake Michigan. The Ravine House demonstrates the integration of structure and building skin with great sensitivity to the landscape. This unique cor-ten steel cladding system, also developed by LA DALLMAN, was executed with regional metal fabricators. The structure supports the cantilever to allow an uninterrupted forty-foot line of glazing. LA DALLMAN also designed numerous additional building components, including a sink, furniture, door handles, LVL millwork panels, etc. Photo by Kevin Miyazaki.
What have you also learned in the last six months?
While I have led a practice for more than two decades, the role of Chair has reminded me that women leaders are relentlessly scrutinized. On one hand, I’m aware that this is a disheartening comment on the state of gender bias, and certainly, it can’t be as bad as it once was; but on the other hand, I hope it can be a call to action, a reminder, that we have a long way to go before women will be treated fairly in leadership. As we see so clearly in the unfolding drama of today’s American politics, there remains a substantial swath of the U.S. who fundamentally believe that a woman should not, and cannot, lead. It’s disturbing for sure, it makes clear that gender bias is a deep-seated, ongoing challenge.
Who are you admiring now and why?
I am admiring Lina Bo Bardi, an Italian-born, Brazilian architect, who designed an array of projects—buildings, furniture, and jewelry—during the 1940s-80s. I’ve studied her in the past and gave a small talk on her work at UT Austin several years ago. However, even today, as I learn more about her work on the SESC Pompeia project in Sao Paulo, Brazil, I am continually inspired by her imagination, resourcefulness, and deft interventions on this community-based project.
Built in 1901, the Door County Granary was decommissioned by the 1960s and has been idle ever since. Recognizing the value of its robust wood structure and voluminous ground floor, LA DALLMAN is in the process of recovering and transforming this historical structure for civic use. Re-inhabitation initiates a series of transformative interventions: paths wending through the cellular bin compartments, punctuated by spaces carved for gathering and performance. Phase 1 and 2 of the project are currently nearing completion with Phase 3 in design. Image Credit: LA DALLMAN
What is the impact you’d like to have on the world? What is your core mission? And what does success in that look like to you?
Given the different avenues of my life, I’d need to answer that in three different ways. In practice, I would love for the work of LA DALLMAN to demonstrate that the opportunity for spatial transformation is abundant—it’s possible to make compelling space for a museum, but also for a bus stop, for a house and for a bridge! The powerful, authorial voice of design can be applied to new buildings and existing ones; it need not be confined to predictable typologies—architecture is needed in so many corners of the world and on every street corner!
In academia, I thrive on knowing that I have helped my students—whether through learning in the studio or through mentorship later in life. While I’ve taught hundreds of students and advised numerous architecture theses, I perceive these experiences as a joint journey in learning about design and space. My students have taught me so much, and I hope, in turn, that I have helped them to cultivate their unique design talents.
In my family, my husband and I share the aspirations of our design practice. I also have two wonderful, creative sons on the brink of adulthood. I wish for them to continue to develop and explore their interests. I want them to live life to the fullest and to find their unique passions.
Located in the Discovery World at Pier Wisconsin science museum, this project is a permanent exhibit of the Great Lakes watershed, the region’s greatest natural resource. The program weaves together historic, scientific, and topographic data conveying information such as weather patterns, geological history, animal life, and water movement. Describing two ecosystems of the terrain and sky, the design reveals opportunities to explore the intersection between man-made and natural systems—illuminating the primordial relationship between earth and sky. Photography: LA DALLMAN
Finally, what advice do you have for those starting their career? Would your advice be any different for women?
I’m tempted to give broad, inspirational advice. But I think it may be more helpful to speak specifically to this moment and to address a particular phenomenon: remote work. At the start of an architecture career, and while it may be convenient for flexibility, I strongly advise being cautious about remote work. It’s so important to be present—to be able to raise your hand and to learn in both informal and formal ways. Recently, I’ve been reading two very relevant articles called, “The Power of Proximity,” by Natalia Emanuel et al, at the New York Federal Reserve Bank, and “Who Really Benefits From the Great Remote-Work Experiment?” by Jerusalem Demsas, published in The Atlantic. The research studied employees in kindred fields such as engineering and computer science. It is fascinating, and some aspects are super compelling: in-person employees were receiving 22% more feedback, so they were getting more skills and mentorship; a sixth of all skills needed over a lifetime come from colleagues; fewer promotions were happening among remote-workers. So the research shows that for highly collaborative types of work (like architecture!), being in-person can be instrumental to one’s career.
In terms of whether this advice would be different for women, I’d say that it is incredibly important to consider it. The research in these essays (conducted in the context of software engineering) indicated that by being in-person, female engineers were “receiving 40% more comments on their code than male engineers,” which suggests that mentorship is particularly important for female engineers. However, to demonstrate how complex the situation is, “[of] the feedback that’s going to both female and male junior engineers, a lot of that is coming from female senior engineers. And so the giving of the mentorship is also coming from female engineers. And so we see a lot of exaggerated effects on both the benefit sides for females, so junior women are getting the benefits, but also senior women are paying the price.”
I feel that acutely in my varied contexts of practice and academia, so I sense that to be true, and something of a concern for senior women. I’m quoting here in a very general way, and so I urge everyone to read the articles, because there’s a lot of nuance and complexity in the findings. It has made me feel, overall, that there are crucial benefits to being in-person and strongly recommend it for those starting out, but also for seasoned professionals. Being “present” in mind and body offers opportunities to participate in this exciting time for the discipline of architecture!