Behind the Exhibit: A Conversation with Jess Vanecek on Methods of Collection, Observation, and Synthesis

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Over the course of an academic year as a Virginia Architecture Fellow (VAF) at UVA, researcher and designer Jess Vanecek laid down the foundations for an ongoing body of work that investigates current and future patterns of human occupation in places at the forefront of climate change. The project she developed in this time, Tidal Territories, investigates the rural island community of Tangier Island, Virginia, unpacking complexities of place and asking critical questions regarding retreat, relocation, and resilience.

Vanecek’s work negotiates data and policy surrounding climate change with place-specific narratives, seeking to synthesize various information through architectural drawing, modeling, and exhibition. This negotiation is the result of a careful consideration of not only what kinds of information are collected, analyzed, and presented, but also how design research incorporates and reflects place.

We sat down with Vanecek to discuss her design research methods — to reveal the types of knowledge uncovered and how she translates that information into graphic representations that operate in the liminal space between feasibility and speculation. Through this Q+A, we gain insight into how this richly layered process makes visible the climate crisis on Tangier Island, while prompting pertinent questions about the future of such fragile places.

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Before we dig into your design research process, set the stage for Tidal Territories. Where is this work situated?

Tidal Territories situates itself in the ever-fluctuating threshold between land and water, specifically on the islands of Smith Island, Maryland and Tangier Island, Virginia – two of the last inhabited islands within the Chesapeake Bay. Ecologically speaking, the collective patches of marshland that comprise these territories form an interconnected archipelago, which once comprised a ridgeline that formed the edge of the ancestral Susquehanna River, tethered to the mainland prior to the formation of the Bay. Today, the areas occupied by humans are scattered morsels of land just a few feet above sea level, only accessible by boat or small aircraft. 

While physically and culturally remote, both Smith Island 
and Tangier Island are gaining widespread attention
as places at the forefront of the climate crisis.

As often the case, my interest in these places stems from childhood. Tangier Island is situated about 14 miles off the coast of Reedville, Virginia – the town where I grew up which still provides seasonal passenger ferry service to the island. When I was in the seventh grade, my (very) brave science teacher took our class of twelve-year-olds out to the island for three nights and two days to learn about ecology, conservation, and the way of life out in the Bay. This stuck with me, and years later in graduate school, I became interested in the island from an architectural perspective, which laid the groundwork for this project. In collecting the research for this exhibition, I actually came across my journal entries from that seventh grade trip, which ended with:  “I hope I can go back someday.” 

Tidal Territories synthesizes many kinds of knowledge: scientific data, policy, and observed information. Why was this approach important?

In my work, I view myself as a translator. I am interested in the role of the designer as information gatherer and synthesizer, to harness the means and methods of architectural representation to make visible the climate crisis by constructing spatial narratives that seek to tell a more complete – or rather, complex – picture of the multiscalar systems at play. 

I work across disciplines and across time, to 
collapse information visible and non-visible into 
a shared space with the goal of revealing casual 
relationships affecting the built environment.

For this project in particular, the invisible systems of jurisdictional control and regulatory frameworks have always stuck out. From a jurisdictional standpoint, the islands are divided by a geographically arbitrary and invisible line, splitting them between two states, multiple federal agencies, and various regulatory entities. 

The project really began with research into these organizational structures and policies, seeking to understand how this invisible division fragments the connections each island has to each other, to mainland society, and impacts funding and resources that each has access to in the fight against climate change.

Beyond quantitative and archival research, I also find it imperative to immerse myself in the place as an observer – to listen and collect information from those living such realities. For this project, my visit to Tangier Island happened to coincide with the occurrence of a “king tide” – some of the highest annual tides that offer a glimpse into possible future norms with projected changes of climate (See Resource list, "The Drowning South"). During these twice daily high-highs, portions of the island become inaccessible, forcing residents (and guests such as myself) to plan their daily life around the rise and fall of the tide. Also during my stay, the owner of the inn where I was staying became my de-facto tour guide, showing and sharing anecdotes that influenced the course of the research and the exhibition.

When wearing ‘many hats’ so to speak — working as a scholar, an observer, a designer, even a neighbor — what challenges did you face in sorting through and making sense of different kinds of knowledge and understanding the work through different frameworks?

The biggest negotiation in my work is the discussion of climate change, which carries with it inherent political and cultural connotations. On the islands, the use of the phrase “climate change” is a bit taboo, yet residents are so deeply in tune with changes to their environment such as erosion and land loss that we understand as directly related to sea level rise and increased storm events of a changing climate – a paradox with which I’ve often struggled. But there can be a distrust in such communities of outsiders seeking to “study” the residents and the island, coming in with preconceived notions about the people and issues they are facing.

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I find that trust is imperative, so entering these 
spaces requires being a listener and observer first 
and foremost, and an understanding that you 
are a guest of a place.

In my drawings, I seek to present information in a way that is digestible and somewhat objective, allowing the audience to take from it what they will. By combining data with local narratives and observation, I seek to craft representations that not only visualize environmental crises, but also highlight the lived realities of those most affected by them.

The Virginia Architecture Fellows exhibition was an opportunity to exhibit your research during a moment of its evolution. The architectural drawings and models you displayed embodied your multi-layered research process. These layers manifested in specific decisions in visualization, material and formal choices. Tell us more about this.

All the material choices for the exhibition were carefully considered in keeping with the conceptual framework of the project, which seeks to represent the fragility yet endurance of these island communities. The acrylic model of the islands suspends from the ceiling delicately on fishing line, and showcases more of the land below water than above.

One of my favorite additions to the exhibition – the courses of CMU block – came about after my visit to Tangier, when I learned that homes were being raised on block foundations to achieve sufficient height above the FEMA-designated flood zone given the lack of land elevation. The height to do so is equivalent to four courses of block, up from three courses after Hurricane Isabel in 2003 (See Resource list, "Two Tangier Island Homes")  – marked in the exhibit by red yarn encompassing the third course of block. 

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This continued raising of courses is not sustainable – as water permeates further, the ground will become further saturated. These rigid blocks are unstable on soggy earth, and structural failure in homes is inevitable. Furthermore, salt water and air contribute to the disintegration of the mortar between the blocks. Eventually, the blocks too will crumble from exposure.

You describe Tidal Territories as walking ‘the line between optimism and feasibility’ — what do you mean?

Working in the realm of climate change can be mentally taxing. Climate doom is a real thing, so I think it’s important to toe the line between urgency and optimism. I’m inspired by the work of Design Earth, which “draws on geographic visual representation to construct worldviews that bridge disciplinary divides, and on the tropes of story-telling and speculative fiction to render worlds simultaneously comprehensible and fantastic" (See Resource list, Geostories). 

I find joy in graphic storytelling and future speculations, which are intended to provoke rather than provide solutions.

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With settlement areas just two to four feet above sea level, estimates project Tangier and Smith islands will be uninhabitable to humans by 2051 (See Resource list, "Predictions of the Climate Change-Driven Exodus"). That’s only 25 years away. With protection measures requiring years of study and approval of federal funding, it’s not far-fetched to believe – however, uncomfortable it may be – that retreat and relocation is a possible future. This project accepts that reality. 

The third panel of the triptych featured in the exhibition, entitled Back to the Future, speculates on phased futures of continued occupation within the land-water threshold through three key scenarios: Out with the Oil!, Architectural Archipelago, and From Land Rights to Water Rights. Each respectively raises questions of ecological stewardship, architectural adaptation, and future prosperity for the communities that call these places home.

The scenarios aim to prompt contemplation 
about a complex future of acceptance and retreat, 
while upholding deep-rooted connections to place. 

Yet ultimately, I find it important to acknowledge that this project is representative of only a brief moment in time – time that cannot be taken for granted.

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About Jess Vanecek
Jess Vanecek is a designer, researcher, and educator with an interest in both the physical and non-visible anthropogenic processes that radically alter, structure, and control the natural world. Her work employs graphic representation and speculation to explore the complex spatial intersections between architecture, environment, regulatory frameworks, and various interest groups in the face of climate change.

Project Team
Lead Researcher: Jess Vanecek, Assistant Professor of Architecture
Student Research Assistants: Paige Baker (BUEP ’25), Andy Packwood (BS Arch ’25) 

Selected/Key Resources
Brady Dennis, Niko Kommenda, and Emily Wright, “The Drowning South: Anatomy of a Flood,” The Washington Post, June 11, 2024: https://www.washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/interactive/2024/coastal-flooding-carolina-beach-videos/

“Two Tangier Island Homes Rise Above the Wrath of Hurricane Isabel,” FEMA, updated February 11, 2021: https://www.fema.gov/case-study/two-tangier-island-homes-rise-above-wrath-hurricane-isabel

Rania Ghosn and El Hadi Jazairy, Geostories: Another Architecture for the Environment (Actar, 2018).

David Shulte and Zehao Wu, “Predictions of the Climate Change-Driven Exodus of the Town of Tangier, the Last Offshore Island Fishing Community in Virginia’s Chesapeake Bay,” Frontiers in Climate 3 (2021): https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/climate/articles/10.3389/fclim.2021.779774/full

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The Virginia Architecture Fellowship at UVA School of Architecture supports emerging design practitioners and educators, with a focus on developing creative research and pedagogy at UVA.