A Study of Two Sandwich Shops

Architecture and Interior Design Module Project - Video (Revised)



Transcript (Original)

The first stop on this architectural adventure is… Subway. As I approach this familiar food franchise located on the corner of a common commercial construction, the simple signage subtly and subliminally show the way. While I have seen the sign many times, I had never really attended to the all-important arrow that advises all to enter.

While not likely a suggestion from Subway, some of the structural elements at the bend of the building, such as the protruding portico, the prominent pillars, the accenting arches on adjacent sides of the entrance, and the glass store front, supplement the suggestion of a subterranean subway system. As I get closer, I feel as if I will soon descend to the depths where tracks and trains are ready to transport. Instead, I am about to be swallowed into the belly of this global gastronomic giant.

Once inside, I am met, not with the dull and dreary, but a warm and welcoming glow. The mustard-colored mural, mounted on the wall and framed with crown molding, mimic a subway map of a notable New York borough. Cultural and commercial constructions combine with the underground connections to create a sense of being “on the go” and on the scene in Queens. As my eyes follow this feigned fresco, they find full-length photos featuring foods from each of four food groups. These sizable screens scream, “Follow me for FRESH!” In a flash, FRESH is found. Fresh foods are also featured in a tiled collage of sorts, displayed all along the lower front face of the assembly line.

As I move from the mural to the menu, a consistent color scheme keeps my concentration on the freshness and begins to foster the feeling of flavor. Heralding “healthy” hues, such as those drawn from the natural dyes in vegetables (red - tomatoes; green - cucumbers, peppers, and lettuce) or cured into the curds (yellow - cheese) or leavened in loaves (brown - baked bread), the menu boards make my mouth water. Mounted overhead, at the back of the sandwich assembly area, it is easy to see and select certain sandwiches, which start the submarine sandwich assembly process. A sign suspended from the ceiling stating, “Please order here,” marks the starting point at which customers first encounter an employee. While not obvious, this almost ornamental oval communicates a sense of order.

Before the building begins, though, customers are met with an oversized submarine sandwich. This substantial sample, strategically set at eye level, stimulates shoppers’ salivary glands and prompts them to purchase a foot-long rather than a six-inch sub. Just beyond this delicious-looking decoration, the baking center, sporting the Subway logo (aforementioned arrow included), beckons. The warm oven light and baking bread cause the consumer to engage with the product and support the theme of freshness. In addition, chrome appliances and countertops convey cleanliness, as do the glossy white tiles that serve as a backsplash.

Directly in front of the customers, at the start of the assembly line, is a set of placards with nutritional information, sandwich-making ingredients with healthy choice options, and simple step-by-step procedures for sandwich or salad assembly. Once again, health and order are emphasized. As customers follow along the assembly line, glass allows them to gaze down on the ingredients in order to make informed and individual choices. To aid this added level of customer autonomy and accountability, the simple step-by-step signs are placed at strategic stages along the way. This organizational element helps customers plan and prepare for questions they will be asked, which in turn aids efficiency and theoretically preserves the freshness of the product.

Once at the end of the lines, customers meet a few final choices. To customers’ left is a clear case of cookies, with costs and flavors labeled clearly. To the immediate right of customers, in front of the cashier, is a set of cups from which customers choose the size of beverage they would like. This choice must be conducted prior to calculating the cost, but the location of the cups makes this both convenient and customer friendly. As the customers collect their individually wrapped subs, they are able to snag a bag of chips. Whether selected from a wicker basket or wire rack, these savory snacks are easily accessible and a choice tailored to the consumer’s fingertips. Immediately across from the cashier’s counter is a beverage buffet of sorts, with convenience and choice as the cornerstones.

With meal in hand, customers can then choose to sit in one of three seating areas. Two areas, a small area at the back by the bathrooms and a larger area to the left of the entrance, are fitted with tables for two. While ready to reconfigure and flexible enough to fit a family of four or more, the tables are arranged in what might be considered rigid rows that reflect the tight grey tiles on the floor. Order and organization are obvious. The green speckled tabletops and vinyl upholstered seat cushions in green, red, and yellow continue to colors of freshness found throughout the rest of the restaurant. Standard fluorescent lighting with translucent panels to diffuse the light illuminate these eating areas. Perforated panels secured with black stripping serve as the ceiling. The panels above the preparation area, while similar, are separated by a frame of crown molding, like that used to frame the mural. Ceiling fans with a country kitchen style add character and provide circulation as needed. A third area along the right hand side of the restaurant is lined with contoured benches. Each table is designed for four and allows customers to consume their meals while watching out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The natural light filtering in from this wall of windows and the one at the front of the shop also adds to the fresh feel.

When all is said and done, the Subway experience is true to the logo… eat fresh.


After emerging from Subway, I sauntered over to a sandwich shop where sentiment is savored. While similarly structured on the surface, these corner constructions did not have much in common. Beyond the brick, there was much more of this business and building to behold.

From afar, Potbelly presents as… a pub. Approaching from an angle, the forest green awnings, large lantern light fixtures, painted paned glass picture windows, and weathered wooden doors all tilt a traveler’s thoughts toward a tavern. Even the style of the sign, with warm earthy tones and classic “Cheers” font, signals “saloon” rather than “sandwich shop.” Despite the confusion, “Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name” (Angelo & Portnoy, 1982). Character calls, and I am compelled to enter.

As I set foot in the door, the sense of “saloon” is sustained… for a second. The speckled brown cement slabs simulate, albeit slightly, dirt. The “Cheers” charm is quickly converted, though, into an old-fashioned soda fountain feel or a setting where sarsaparilla is sold. Unlike Subway, where order is obvious, and where I (and my eye) was almost forced to follow a certain path, the walls of Potbelly are plastered with paraphernalia from the past, which piques my interest immediately. Inundated by interesting images and antique artifacts, I allow my eyes to wander and my mind to wonder. While much of my attention had been directed up, my eyes eventually land on a Potbelly stove positioned prominently at the entrance. What would Potbelly be without this signature stove? Throughout my time in this sandwich shop, a number of vintage variations on this theme pop (or potbelly) up.

When the fascination finally wanes allowing me to direct my attention to design (and dining), I notice a novel niche carved out on the left hand side of the restaurant. Separated from the eating area by a four-foot high wall, an open corridor corrals customers into a queue. At the far end of the cordoned-off area, an illuminated beverage refrigerator draws diners down a divided walkway. Carved wooden posts connected by chains create two columns to facilitate the flow of traffic. These simple and somewhat standard features (with flair) are not only organizational but also inviting. As customers walk and wait, they are able to peruse the products posted on a large black menu board located above the refrigerator. Sandwich names are noted in yellow, while ingredients and / or descriptions follow in green. In addition to being easy to read, the colors conjure up feelings of freshness and flavor, as was the case in Subway. As customers clear the corner and face the counter, they are able to refer to a similar (smaller) menu board located directly above / behind the cashier. This detail is both convenient and somewhat calming, as customers are less likely to get flustered or forget their flavor of choice. A wall where products like pickles and packages of chips are displayed conceals the sandwich assembly area. While customers are unable to see their sandwich, they are able to engage with the enthusiastic and entertaining employees. This design detail promotes a people-centered rather than a product-centered experience. Signs scrolled in all sorts of scripts support the fact that this sandwich shop is something special, something unique. It also implies that the individual is important. Again, person is prioritized over product (although, the products are prepared with pride).

As customers approach the end of the aisle, they can opt to order ice cream or other delectable desserts. The cupboard, cans, and cones all contribute to that classic soda shop sentiment, which is aligned with the antique atmosphere and family-friendly feel. After customers cash in, they can continue to where the colas and condiments are conveniently contained. This quaint corner of the shop sports some wonderful wooden cabinetry and a coveted curio table.

Unlike the fairly uniform seating options available at Subway, Potbelly provides a plethora of places to park, each one unique. Whether a customer is interested in a private park bench for two or a painted patio-type table for three, or a plank-like table with inlayed patterned tile (for four or more), Potbelly has it all. Even though all are intermingled, it is implied that individuality is important and an element of intimacy is evident, as well.

Nothing is lost on lighting, a design detail that definitely adds to the life and levity of this location. Whether looming low or hovering high overhead, each specially selected shade supports the character and charm of this sentimental sandwich shop.

It is clear that character is at the core of the design of this shop, which requires the “curator” to make careful choices regarding what collectibles will cultivate the most curiosity. The amount of time and degree of attention put into the design of this dining establishment, in an effort to positively impact the experience of the customer, reflects directly on the product. The purveyor of Potbelly prioritizes people, insists on individuality, and, in so doing, communicates quality.

Guide or Gawk?

After savoring some time (and sandwiches) in two local sandwich shops, the impact of interior design and architecture became increasingly apparent. As I entered each retail space and analyzed how design affected my experience, I was most intrigued by the effect on my eyes - guide versus gawk.

In Subway, I found that my eyes were guided along a fairly defined line. Consistent with the lines of a Subway system (as seen on maps mounted on the shop’s walls), my sight and subsequently my movement were controlled. Certainly this was something sensed subconsciously in previous visits, which made the realization that much more remarkable. I was amazed at how customers are “compelled” to conform.

In Potbelly, my eyes moved in a more manic manner, gawking at all the artifacts on the walls. Cultivated by the quirky curios, my curiosity “compelled” me to connect with the cuisine. As I moved through this museum, my mouth watered and my mind wondered, but I still wandered in the way that was intended.

In thinking about these different designs and their ability to direct the eye and actions of individuals, I started to think about how a similar phenomenon manifests in the classroom. While not always a matter of manipulating eye movement, visual, verbal, and intellectual guiding and gawking occur. The question is, which is more constructive, and ultimately most compelling?

Inevitably, educators guide students through a step-by-step study of subjects in an effort to meet standards set out by states or school districts. Ought this be the case? Teachers and students are “compelled to conform,” but is the educational experience compelling? Is it memorable? Is it meaningful? It is more than merely a means to an educational (not edible) end?

There are those teachers, though, who not only allow but also encourage students to gawk. Ideas are introduced, investigations are launched, and inquiring minds engage in discussion and debate. Diversity is deemed “delicious,” and the interests of individuals are ingested. As students feast on facts (and fiction), the interactions between the individuals and ideas provide substantive sustenance. Students are compelled to consume and construct and question and continue on. Neither the path nor the product is predictable, but the flavor of the experience is full and the quality unquestionable. Does this constitute compelling?

Ought we guide students or encourage them to gawk?

Constructing a Compelling Classroom

On a more literal level, this week’s assignment, discussion, and readings caused me to think back to a class I took last semester (CEP 842 – Instruction in Inclusive Classrooms). I was reminded of the unit on assistive technology, which included readings and a discussion about the impact of various physical elements of a classroom environment on learning. Furniture, lighting (windows & fixtures), color (wall, paper, etc), textures, and scents all entered into the discussion. It was a very en-light-ening lesson.

Of course, when we design our homes, we want places that are inviting and create what Susanka calls a “sense of shelter” (Susanka, 2004: 13). Children / Students, though, spend almost as many waking hours in a classroom as they do at home, and the physical learning environment ought to “compel” them to come in and cause them to feel both safe and intellectually stimulated.

Whenever I move in to a new classroom or set up a room at the outset of the year, I cannot even begin to think about what I am going to teach until I have the physical classroom environment established. As I look ahead to next year, I need to think more carefully about, not only what is conducive but also what is compelling.

A few “food for thought” articles to archive:

McCreey, J. and Hill, T. (2005). Illuminating the classroom environment. School Planning and Management. Retrieved from: http://www.peterli.com/spm/resources/articles/archive.php?article_id=850

Saulny, S. (2009). Students stand when called upon, and when not. The New York Times. Retrieved from: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/25/us/25desks.html

Thompson, S. (2003). Color in education. School Planning and Management. Retrieved from: http://www.peterli.com/spm/resources/articles/archive.php?article_id=551

Wyatt, K. (2009). No chairs: Students ‘get the wiggles out’ on exercise balls. USA Today. Retrieved from: http://www.usatoday.com/news/education/2009-03-07-class-chairs_N.htm

The Compelling Nature of Cohesiveness

As I combed through the readings this week, cohesiveness came to the fore as one of the most compelling aspects of architecture and interior design. This concept was particularly powerful in the pictures provided by Sarah Susanka. In Susanka’s vernacular, cohesiveness probably would be best described in the “themes and variations” section of her writings. As I continued to peruse the pictures and ponder these considerations related to creating a home, the following paragraphs from two different readings began to build a bridge…

“New Design Language”
One final concept you should keep in mind as you create your own Not So Big House is developing a theme and variations throughout the design. Every house in this book employs this concept, and it's what gives each its integrity and at least some of its personality. If you want a house to have unique characteristics that make it more than just an assemblage of spaces, you can adopt a few special shapes or materials that are repeated throughout the house. If this is done heavy handedly, it will look clunky or will make you think "Enough already." If you've ever seen a house with an octagonal window in almost every room, you'll know what I mean. But when used thoughtfully, a house with a theme and variations is like a well-composed piece of music. From one movement to the next, you know it's the same piece because themes will return as it proceeds, though never repeated exactly as before. (Susanka, 2007)

“Home By Design”
So it's a house that has a Theme and Variations. Most houses are lacking features like these that tell you, as you move from room to room, that they are all parts of a singular whole. But a house that's a Home by Design has some underlying organizational features that help identify it as all one thing, no matter where you are in the house. (Susanka, 2004: 9)


As I did with Rockwell’s writing on photography, I took time to highlight and alter a few words of these topic-specific texts in an effort to transform it into something tangible for teachers.


“New Lesson Language”
One final concept you should keep in mind as you create your own NOT SO BORING LEARNING EXPERIENCE is developing a theme and variations throughout the DELIVERY. Every UNIT in this book employs this concept, and it's what gives each its integrity and at least some of its personality. If you want a LEARNING EXPERIENCE to have unique characteristics that make it more than just AN ASSEMBLAGE OF ISOLATED LESSONS, you can adopt a few special THEMES or IDEAS that are repeated throughout the LEARNING EXPERIENCE. If this is done heavy handedly, it will FEEL FORCED / ARTIFICIAL or will make you think "Enough already." If you've ever seen a LEARNING EXPERIENCE with a GIMMICK in almost every LESSON, you'll know what I mean. But when used thoughtfully, a LEARNING EXPERIENCE

“Learning Experience by Design”
So it's a LEARNING EXPERIENCE that has a Theme and Variations. Most LEARNING EXPERIENCES are lacking features like these that tell you, as you move from LESSON TO LESSON, that they are all parts of a singular whole. But a LEARNING EXPERIENCE that's a LEARNING EXPERIENCE by Design has some underlying organizational features that help identify it as all one thing, no matter where you are in the SCHOOL YEAR.

Adapted from the writings of Sarah Susanka.


As educators engage in the work of curriculum design in preparation for instruction, I think it would behoove us all to take time to identify authentic intra- and interdisciplinary themes and to consider the various ways these themes could be introduced to, identified by, and investigated with students. As students consider the connections within and between subject areas, I suspect they would be compelled to further broaden and deepen their learning experience.

I think an attempt at designing such learning experiences has been made through the “essential question” approach, but I think more can be done to help students connect to their learning and compel them to continue.

Definitely something to consider…

Cozy and Comfortable, Comptemporary Yet Quaint

Week 6 - Discussion Post (also on FB)

I remember vividly the first time I walked through the door and experiencing “the indefinable something” (Susanka, 2004: 5) of which Sarah Susanka speaks. In an effort to try to put my finger on what it was that drew me in and helped me feel at home, I decided to revisit one of my favorite restaurants. The first descriptors that come to mind are cozy and comfortable, contemporary yet quaint. In her interview with Diane Rehm, Susanka says, “Cozy is also a euphemism for too small” (Rehm, 2001). For me, though, “cozy” connotes warmth and that “sense of shelter” (Susanka, 2004: 13), which, in this restaurant, was created, in part, by painting the walls with a wonderfully warm golden hue. This color cascaded into the room, where it was worked in to the color of the tablecloths. It was as if we were surrounded by sunshine. Despite the height of the room (I estimate at least 12 feet) and what could be considered a very rigid and restricting rectangular shape, a very intimate feeling was created. Four tall, narrow windows (two on each of two adjacent walls) allowed natural light to filter in through simple sheer curtains. These were wrapped in the warm embrace of deep, rich burgundy window treatments, which tied in to the color of the painted and glass-paned door. The tall windows whisked my eyes upward, where tin ceiling panels (featured in the photo) contributed to the character of the room.




These dark and textured tiles above, a reflection of the dark, textured timbers (hardwood floors) below, brought the ceiling closer. This example of “visual weight” (Susanka, 2007) contributed to the “cozy” quality.

As I left the room and walked down the hall to the front door, I decided to turn around and take one last look, at which point I recognized that “Light to Walk Toward” (Rehm, 2001; Susanka, 2004: 12). From the front door, my eye had been welcomed by the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. One of those tall windows had been the undetected draw from the front door. In addition, I noticed that the door to the room was framed with a wide, white molding. With one last glance into the room, I realized this same molding framed a discrete door into the kitchen. In both cases, the frame definitely signaled entry into “a new place” and served as “a gateway” (Susanka, 2007), guiding me from the “harsh” outdoors to the hall to a “home” away from home.

Look up! Linger... Listen. And, learn... for a lifetime.

While I am not really what one would consider a football fan (and after having lived overseas that includes what we on this side of the world call soccer), but in my life I have tuned in to a game or two and get the general gist of the game. Prior to Super Bowl weekend this year, I have had only two memorable football-watching moments in my life. One year, many years ago, I plopped myself in front of the TV and barraged myself with college “Bowl” games. And, my first year in Kabul, we were able to get a live satellite connection of a game, which caused dozens of expatriates to gather in the basement of one of our team houses in the middle of the night and savor the sport and enjoy the camaraderie of one another). These were obviously very different experiences – one I watched completely alone, the other I was one witness of many with the complete Super Bowl celebration.

This year, I will probably chalk up as a third fabulous football experience, the first (and maybe the last) I will share with my husband, who is not a football fan either. We tuned in this year, though, not because of the competition but because of the commercials. As it happened, the game was great and worth watching, but the commercials were our (well, mostly my) primary focus.

Seated on the sofa, I sought something that stirred me, something that not only caught my eye but also kept it. There were several commercials that made me look at my husband and go, “Hmmmm…??” but few caused me to connect intellectually or emotionally, two qualities I believe are crucial in order to call something compelling. The only ones that came close for me were the Volkswagen “Punch Dub” commercial and the Budweiser Clydesdale “Fences” commercial (Note: I erroneously referred to this commercial as “Clydesdale Training” in my FB post, but… that commercial from 2008 was “compelling,” too).

As I went back and watched, it was interesting for me to see that the cinematic styles of these two commercials were quite different. The Volkswagen commercial was fast paced, which quick, sharp transitions from frame to frame and back and forth between the product and faces. The music was light and airy with the whir of passing cars causing me to look up from my computer (I was multi-tasking for most of the game, composing posts and trying to get a start on my video). Of course, when it became evident that the commercial was a cross-section or the cars and communities and “kids” of all ages playing the PunchDub game, I couldn’t help but smile. I thought it was a clever way to connect with… everyone. Who hasn’t played that game at one time or another? At this point, of course, sentiment entered in.

Sentiment was a key factor in the Budweiser Clydesdale “Fences” commercial, as well, capitalizing on the power of friendship. Unlike the VW commercial, though, sentiment and story were conveyed in slow, scenic cuts. Whimsical music and animal sounds were again the initial attention getters, with an equally effective result. I was forced to look up and watch.

How do we get our students to do the same? What will make them look up and listen? In thinking about this, I am reminded of one of my former colleagues, one of the most exuberant individuals I have ever met. As assemblies, with one single word, he could capture the attention of an entire audience of kids (grades 4-6), and keep them transfixed for a good 20 minutes. While assemblies tended to be focused on character development, he would find a way to illuminate the character trait of the month in the minds of the students by shining a spotlight on an historical individual. He would then weave a story so wonderful that all, students and teachers, would be hanging on every word. After a few minutes, we would forget we were learning, but by the end we would walk away with a character trait, a context, and a curiosity to learn more about the man, woman, or event described in detail. These were compelling experiences.

In order to design a compelling experience, we must attend to the elements that cause us and our students to:

Look up!

Linger…

Listen.

And… learn… for a lifetime!

Merely Memorable… or Moving?

This week, I (and my classmates) was charged with viewing an arguably compelling clip from the movie, “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” The ensuing discussion caused the following question to be raised in my mind:

Does something that is compelling HAVE to be memorable? Is something that is memorable ALWAYS compelling?

For some, the answers were yes and yes. For me, the answer is… I’m not so sure.

As I wrestled with these questions, I tried to think back on movie- or television-viewing experiences that I consider memorable, but not necessarily compelling. Due to my viewing preferences, I discovered that I could classify a number of comedies and / or “chick” flicks in the memorable category (Ex. “Hitch,” “Runaway Bride,” “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” “27 Dresses,” “Strange Brew,” “The Spy Who Shagged Me”), but, while I remember specific scenes and sometimes even a line or two, most of these were not even close to what I would consider compelling. In many cases, these and other similar movies are some of the first flicks chosen for an evening of mindless (and repeat) movie viewing, but the evening will not be moving or meaning-filled. It is these latter descriptors that, in my mind, propel a “picture-show” into the realm of the profound. “Steel Magnolias” and “The Notebook,” on the other hand, are movies that caused me to think and reflect. They were moving and meaning-filled. They were more than memorable. These are movies I would call compelling.

What’s the difference? Many would simply lump “Steel Magnolias” and “The Notebook” in with the rest of the “chick” flicks / tear-jerkers, but I would argue that they do stand out. Why? All the movies have a story, so that can’t set them apart, or can it? According to Katalina Groh, story and storytelling is a defining element of film. So, what aspect of story creates an experience that is compelling? Groh says, “These stories [stories that celebrate transformation, change, and learning] create new kinds of conversation and experiences. Most of all, these stories invite us to reflect, learn, and experience the lesson precisely because they make us think about our own stories” (Groh, 2001).

How does this translate to a classroom? Memorization of multiplication facts is a classic example of an educational experience I would obviously consider memorable, but, in most cases, is not compelling. Anyone who has passed through second or third grade can remember when and often how he / she learned the “time tables”. In most cases, though, very little meaning is attached to the flashcards, Mad Minutes, and mindless recall of math facts. Few kids (or teachers for that matter) can converse about connections between the facts or discuss how division and / or addition are related. Patterns within and / or reasoning behind the math of multiplication are rarely reviewed. While some might say that there isn’t much more to math that the memorization of facts and application of rules, when reasoning and reflection replace rote, students can and will “celebrate transformation, change, and learning.”

So, whether it is a movie or math, a “story” with substance is at the crux of what compels.

A Cutting Room / Classroom Comparison

"Although editors develop their own preferences, which they may repeat from film to film and which seem to constitute unique styles, how much really is 'individual' and how much is due to the director's own style and what the film itself requires?" (Oldham, 1995: 188)

While many of us in the classroom might consider ourselves directors, I would argue that teachers are instead editors, subject to the directors' demands. Connecting with Oldham's quote, teachers, like editors, develop pedagogical preferences, instructional patterns that they carry from classroom to classroom. Rules and routines, scope and sequence selections, themes and motifs, lesson delivery and assessments are just some of the elements of education subject to the style of the editor (educator) in charge. Of course, some of those choices are influenced by the producers (federal, state, or district officials), who not only hold the purse strings but also play a role in personnel procurement, placement, and supervision.

Who really makes the decisions, though? Or, perhaps a better question to ask, whose style dictates decision making? In our classrooms, I think the students are the directors. It is their "style" that must be satisfied. As the teacher edits, tailoring the educational experience, it is the requirements raised by students' individual needs that tend to be taken into account.

I think it is these student-directed experiences or experiences edited for the edification of the "director" that are most compelling. When the oratory, optical options, and open-ended opportunities are carefully orchestrated the experience is elevated from ordinary to Oscar quality.