The object only exists on the surface. The ‘thing’ itself can only exist as its recorded self.
The object only exists on the surface. The ‘thing’ itself can only exist as its recorded self.
The inhabited room and my #workspace #bananatree #macbookpro :
From real to virtual to constructed to object:
The past two days have mostly been focused on managing logistics of my physical model set up. Pending replies from Joel and Jillian on footage advice and health and safety respectively.
In other news, have 5 60x60cm mirros and picking my two-way spy mirror up tomorrow afternoon. Advice from Tris has really helped advance the flaming side of things: Pressure weed sprayer I’m getting tomorrow as well will be filled with fuel and the nozzle will shoot the fuel out past a cotton bud laced with WD40 that will ignite it (the sprayer device and this overal set up IS apparently as safe as I can make this for distancing fuel source from ignition point and getting the desired effect). Here’s a super low-res reference for visual (not many people build flamethrowers for more serious applications it seems other than ‘fun’):
I show this one specifically because they use exactly the tools I am gathering for mine.
I am currently working on the narrative as the vehicle to frame my wider argument; my ‘why’ side of the project. I have some clearer idea and this is what I plan to focus on discussing tomorrow at tutorials since set-up wise with the physical model I just need to start putting the elements together and running some tests with that flame thrower over the weekend.
Stay tuned for the narrative …
Brought to you by The Agency of Perception Management Footage as an apparatus for neo-baroque spectacle!
I started drawing, started something different and dumped it all. So I made a model of a typical polished concrete gallery floor which I then filled with little bluefoam cubes which just arrived. In top view the surface of the plinth is as polished as the concrete floor on which it sits in its raw and refined state. Now that the site is somehow defined, I want to turn more towards the factory and less the display of things.
There are a number of things on my list to do or consider after the jury:
– make storyboard presentable and use it as a “navigational tool”
– draw presentation formats (juries)
– define the architectural context to construct
– rethink factory processes
– search Sotheby’s (our neighbours)
Since I’ve been dealing with paper thin space i thought that my model would also needs to be paper thin. So here are 79 sections that will be laser cut and bound together to create a book with each page building up a 1:500 model.
Working on the architecture offices, trying to strike a balance between doing the cliché of the office as much as designing it in a manner that I find attractive. Everything is, as always, quite small and overly detailed. What you see in the middle is a conference table (where the master architect plots his takeover of the world), and to the right are the individual desks where the drones hack away on CAD annotations.
I’m restricting myself not to read or write before 10 in the evening. The abstinence is not small, but manageable. These two have been with me for many many years, but I’ve come to the point where I’m putting off more important things just to increase that sweet word count just a little bit more … it’s for health! (and sanity)
Also, turns out the Architectural Review is reading our blog!
To make architecture, you have to be somewhat of an idiot.
Such a person is not unintelligent; he is simply destructively naive.
He trusts in matters regular people let go of long ago, since childhood.
He sees great meaning in phrases other writers wouldn’t dare to touch.
To him, the cliché holds great truth and promise, its repetition
doesn’t bother him. Every man who changes the world is mad.
Everyone who repeats the same act expecting a different outcome
will eventually settle not in experience, but in faith. The idiot sits
between bullshit and dumb.
Back to Maya again and modelling new clichés that will eventually be cut up and incorporated into the big plan. These are working quite closely to the green wall that I took apart in an earlier drawing, but instead questioning the relevance of incorporating the green into a building design as a hybrid. I don’t know about London, but this idea was rife at my school in Sweden. Everyone did it (including me). It was libraries combined with cinemas, zoos and abandoned oil rigs, water purification plants and hydrotherapy resorts, artists colonies and eel farms … the list just goes on. Not that I didn’t find it exciting at the time. Perhaps this post can be seen as a homage to my earlier designs.
Next step: to model bridges that will stretch over the main plan and connect the various parts of the city. Tomorrow: incorporating the model into the plan, and model a new square as well. In this example, I have made the residential wind-mill plant, something I did already back in 2008:
Solving the puzzle; from the stereotype to the original
in just two mouseclicks. Is the project a mere representation
a staging of the clichés, or does it take hold of the contexts
in which these clichés were spawned, to prepare the datum
for a new, delightfully toxic architecture to grow and multiply.
Perhaps we will never solve the puzzle; perhaps we deliberately
change the pieces, saw off the corners, in order to extend its life
so that we extend our time as well. Architecture has become
a perpetual machine with no ultimate goal, where innovation
is procured by the architects in order to drive progress
not forward, but outwards, out to the farthest reaches
of the world, where architecture meets a substance
it cannot move: the indifference of the audience.
The stories inside and outside of architecture. From the aggregate that builds
the béton to the mailman delivering the glossy mags on his bike in Croydon.
The world ends when we decide so. Architecture is an insult to the economists
despite that every major economic disruption has begun with a real estate crisis.
These are things one easily forgets: clients, contractors, sound proofing, plumbing
design consultancy, cost per square feet, inspection of the construction drawings …
it doesn’t end! Architecture is not war, but war acts through architecture, among
many other things. It is a reversal of the actor and the acted. The scent of a flower
has no architecture in it, but that very scent can be made evident by architecture.
The actual definition of the field, clear and concise, becomes a sheer indulgence:
I am not what I seem to be, because that would be all to simple. My thoughts
are as much a reality, perhaps even a stronger reality to me, than my simple
clothes and continuous skin. We forget about the true nature of the built
by trying to ground it in an extended synonym. The balance is disrupted;
the reality is left to a battery of signals and references, solids and voids.
We can search all over the world for definition, and definition fits
all the world’s slabs and plinths. What is outside of architecture
becomes infinite, as architecture becomes the finite.
I am the cliché, now. (It is a matter of self-awareness.)
I try so hard to break free, I abuse the existing, I listen to others
I share their knowledge and their prejudice, that materializes
in the student not wanting to become an architect, at least
not a regular architect, starting at the bottom and CADing
his way to the middle-ground, where he both gives orders
and obeys them. We are the ones with the strong agendas
each one saying “no”, and disclaiming our way through the days.
We are the students who think too hard, who are too earnest
when we ought to relax, go crazy, and enjoy the state of not
knowing what it is. My project has become my project.
Each one of us has our existential crises, aptly stated
as “being in the swamp.” The cliché is dangerous
but danger is just another way of having fun.
From exposing to making. It is one thing to comment
it is another to design. If you invent a city to explain
your point of view, that city must have a life of its own
it cannot be just you, for then it would die the moment
you’d move on. Manhattan out, Seoul in. Architects move
their buildings do not; some architects sit still in their chair
while they’re made obsolete by newer, flashier kind of design.
Your checkpoint is a sanctuary for obsolete ideas, where they
are treated like contaminated royalty (twice the respect).
Formal proposals have the advantage of being digested
without an understanding of wandering composition
the irritating red line at the centre of the paper.
If you want to destroy a drawing, make a copy.
The cliché of the Modern pioneer: the capital city.
Mies wanted to do it, Costa and Niemeyer got to do it.
Astana moved to it, Baku was redefined by it. Everywhere
there is the architecture of national pride, of the dominions
of power scattered geographically over a place that shifted
St. Petersburg to Leningrad to Moscow to Paris to Hugo.
Kiev is not right; Stockholm is too old. Bilbao was the first
of the current process, and still suffers from the hangover
that sets in as you wake up and realize that the only visitors
to see the art are architecture students and their teachers.
The task is clear: the anti-centrism, which makes a creature
such as a country so hard to kill. Take Rotterdam
and you take Europe. Not anymore! This isolation
brings with it Siberian bliss; the local will survive
the global will break down over a root server.
The moment you begin to doubt yourself, is also the moment
you realize that you are a cliché of that self, with humorous interludes
of spaces too true to be yours, too much you to really be you, and you begin
to imitate others to stop yourself from escaping through your own eyes.
If you so desperately want to be a draughtsman, you turn into its cliché
by choosing the pencil as your only device, the toneless Moleskine
as your only medium, and draw, a surge of drawing, deft production
set up to dazzle the tables panel … they will reduce you to one sentence
they will speak of each student by the first slip of the tongue, the catch.
Before we understand a person, we rely on preconceptions to guide us
towards quick decisions: your wife, your children, or the blueprints
for your seminal villa?
What started out as a tea-garden-Japonais-slash-restaurant-at-the-edge-of-the-paper (I had a fit of insomnia, so I thought of my project until I fell asleep. Ideas always shine brightly in the dark!) progressed into a thesaurus of forms that could replace the diamond house in the middle, inspired by our precedents yet appropriated by me. I’m not sure what I’m doing but I’m having fun doing it.
“Polemic projects are always square.” –Chris Pierce
Finished one of my essays yesterday from home, and today (save a slight disruption in the morning) I’m back by the drafting table, making 2½D models of city exteriors, as a counterpoint to the interiors that dominate my previous drawing. And since I forgot my camera at home today, hope you enjoy this narcissistic portrait of me, my mini-model, and a blank studio wall.
My hands are looking like I’ve been fist-fighting a werewolf, but things have been done and I’m one step closer to a presentation of Friday. Some things good (the box welding went well) and some less good (had to partially break one of the Perspex elevations because the laser cutter didn’t want to cut all the way through – beginner mistake!). The churches cut are from Europe and from early 20th century US, to capture the twin syndrome/complex that Hejduk suffered from, being a European intellectual with an American laissez-faire attitude. But that’s another discussion.
Will work on the acetate prints tonight, and put the model together tomorrow. The art gallery house was painted this afternoon but needs another coating to really shine. All remaining time tomorrow will be spent on drawing … something …