The space between

Civil infrastructure is generally seen as an engineering discipline, but we’ve identified that there’s a gap – in language and understanding – between the technical world of the engineer, the client and the contractor, and the non-technical world of the politicians, planners and public.  

That gap is the space we occupy. It’s a crucial space because if we can’t bridge it, the delivery of transport infrastructure will always be a confrontational exercise, a struggle between practical necessity, emotional impact and the natural environment.

Bridge design beyond physical connection 

When it’s identified that a bridge – or any significant new piece of civil infrastructure – is needed, initial conversations tend to focus on the technical requirements. Questions are asked like “What is the design solution?” and “How are we going to build this structure in this particular context?” and “How will we afford it?”. Those who will live with the consequences of the new infrastructure – good or bad – aren’t always present in the conversation. All they know is something familiar and valued in their world will change and this, of course, can be deeply unsettling.  

We know that most people make decisions based on emotional judgement, backed up with more pragmatic reasoning. And that’s why Knight Architects steps into the gap between technical and non-technical worlds. We understand bridge design as a technical discipline, but we also recognise the visual impact on the landscape and the deep emotional impact bridges have on users. With good design we can take a bridge far beyond its basic connective function, strengthening its human appeal and in turn unlocking critical project gateways such as consultation, tendering and approval. In this way, bridges can become powerful symbols of cultural identity rather than signals of unwanted change.

Navigating a complex layering of cultures

Knowing how to occupy and positively shape this ‘space between’ has been particularly important in our work on the Alexandra Bridge Replacement Project in Ottawa-Gatineau, where the project addresses a complex layering of cultures. The bridge connects the cities of Ottawa and Gatineau, spanning between the provinces of Quebec and Ontario, and their English and French-speaking cultures. But it also crosses the Kichi Zibi, the Ottawa River, the lifeblood of the Algonquin Anishinaabe indigenous people to whom the river is an ancient mode of transport and source of food and trade since time immemorial.  

The European view of the bridge as a heritage icon, opened in 1900 at a time of great expansion in the Canadian rail network, contrasts with that of the First Nations, for whom the railways were a mechanism of resource extraction by the colonists. The bridge no longer carries a railway but, adapted for vehicles and active transport modes, it now accounts for almost 40 percent of pedestrian and cyclist crossings of the river in the National Capital.  

With the structure reaching the end of its service life, an ambitious brief for a replacement has been drawn up – one which, from the ‘space between’, we are well positioned to deliver. The brief has developed in ways that none of us expected because we have learned so much from both place and people. The novelty of the challenge has been inspiring, not least because we have all come at it in a non-linear way that better represents its cultural context.

Local knowledge and emotional understanding

To our three pillars of technical, aesthetic and emotional understanding, we have added intimate local knowledge, so we’ve worked with Canadian partners, consulted with First Nations communities and engaged with the public to find a solution that’s special to this place. At 550 metres, it’s a long bridge and, although it’s possible to span that distance without any supports, we tended towards a solution that had arches. Ray Gosselin, our local partner and an indigenous architect, immediately saw a likeness in the curve of the arches to the pimisi, the native American eel, which is synonymous with the Kichi Zibi.  

Through Ray we also discovered that the river was historically a meeting ground for the Algonquin nations. To replace and honour that function, we’ve created meeting places on the bridge. As the arches dip below the bridge’s surface they leave open areas of deck where people can gather or rest. Interwoven with this connection to First Nation culture are strands of more recent European history: the bridge forms part of Confederation Boulevard, a ceremonial loop of crossings and streets that connects significant city landmarks and parks.  

The benefits of a British accent

We’ve found in our work on the Alexandra Bridge that our British perspective is usefully different. Over the past 20 years, most of our bridges have been built in dense, disconnected European cities where the challenging conditions call for highly creative responses. In translating that knowledge to North American cities, we’ve found a receptive audience for our approach, which is built around a close understanding of local cultures and concerns, and an ability to bring clarity to the highly complex design conversations that ensue.

At another of our Canadian projects – Little Current Bridge in north-east Ontario – this has also been the case. The swing bridge is the only link between 1,000-square-mile Manitoulin Island and the mainland, and during peak summer months around 4,500 vehicles cross it every day. It’s a logistical connection but it’s also an emotional link. The bridge is what tethers the people of Manitoulin to the mainland; it’s an apron string that metaphorically stops the island from drifting off into the middle of Lake Huron. An understanding and respect for this local feeling is what we’ve brought to the project, alongside the knowledge that things have moved on in terms of materials, quality and safety and it’s not enough for us to superficially replicate what was done a century ago.

Using design to provide clarity and define purpose

A similar attitude is shaping our Interstate Bridge Replacement (IBR) project on the border between Oregon and Washington states in the United States. One span of the bridge – which carries Interstate 5 (I-5), the only continuous freeway between Canada and Mexico – is now over 100 years old. As a whole, the structure no longer serves its purpose for trade and travel, and would be at risk of collapse in the event of a major earthquake. The project has been long and challenging, but incredibly valuable to us in developing a better understanding of large-scale projects in North America, and of the specific areas where we can bring value.

It’s a huge scheme with a similarly huge team of highway and structural engineers, urban and landscape designers. All are highly skilled, but we’ve found that while there’s deep technical knowledge present, we can add perspective on why we’re doing the project and who it’s for. When that clarity of purpose is missing, important considerations get lost. Our strength is in bringing together these disciplines, establishing the shared purpose and making sure we all pull in the same direction.