B.Arch Thesis 2020 by Aayush Das Anat

THESIS undergraduate architecture

PLACING AN ARCHIPELAGO Aayush Das Anat

May 11, 2020 Blacksburg, Virginia Virginia Tech School of Architecture+Design Thesis Advisor: Professor Henri T. de Hahn Keywords: Writing, Drawing, Process, Individuality, Expression . This thesis was conceived and thought of in the entirety of two sketchbooks, and hence, this book has been divided in two parts. This thesis has been carried out by the undersigned as part of the undergraduate thesis programme in the School of Architecture+Design, Virginia Tech, under the supervision of Prof. Henri T. de Hahn. I sincerely thank my advisor, my faculty at the SoA+D, and my friends. Thesis Statement: With the act of making, filtered through my two dearest passionsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;WRITING and DRAWINGâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;this thesis explores the creative possibilities that explicate architecture.

Aayush Das Anat

Acknowledgements

To my parents and my sister, thank you for your advice, your patience, and your faith. As my first teachers, you have always understood.

Book. 1-206

Part 1.

Part 2.

Research

Adventitious Exploration 28-206

1-26

9-12

13-26

28-66

The Past Riva Narrative

Tangents Maunsell Sea Forts Maunsell Sea Archive

Drawing A new means A different space-time The ancient debate Language

The keywords Statement (pg.32) Process and Project Structure of thesis

Inherent Narratives

Words

Year 5

Year 1, 2, 3, 4

During my first 4 years in architecture school, I had disciplined myself with the traditional model of archiitecture. In this model, there is a dichotomy between the process and project as they exist as independent stages of the design process. However, this thesis insists to find a new methodology through writing and drawing.

1-8

Act I : 1. The Drowning Tree 2. Market 3. Pump 4. Kingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Door Act II : 5. The Drowning Tree 6. Lunch 7. City

August

September

October

November

December

67-86

86-160

161-198

199-206

Act III : 8. The Drowning Tree 9. Cemetery Rail 10. Badland

The Drowning Tree Board 1 Board 2 Board 3

Board 5 Board 6

Postscript 1. Next? 2. Questions

Act I :

Architecture Characters Board 4

11. The Drowning Tree 12. Orchard

January

Travel to India

February

March

April

Part 1. Seminal research phase: Development of the thought and the inception of the hypothesis. Work was done in a 11â&#x20AC;?x14â&#x20AC;? Strathmore Softskin Sketchbook.

The Past

BEGINNINGS PART 1: RESEARCH (Sketchbook 1) Reader, I shall begin this thesis book by mentioning the past. My venture into discovering the topic of interest for the arduous year long thesis began with a simple analysis of the work done during my tenure in academia, and developing three themes, or statements, which would thread and tie together the projects in my portfolio (and perhaps offer me guidance in the many adventitious explorations in the future to come). The goal was simple: look with a naive lens; analyse and draw conclusions. Throughout my tenure at Virginia Tech, I have developed 3 particular values: 1. To create an architecture which expresses: As a means, architecture is a canvas for its author to create. Since architecture touches upon the social, political and economical realms of our society, an architect should express. Throughout history, our art has been inseparable from the societies and its authors have always reflected their present moment to bring the artistic truth to the general public. Diego Rivera, Pablo Picasso, Banksy are artists who use their art forms to express their worldview. Symbolically, architecture is an eternal art. As a means of expression architecture becomes allegorical, perhaps even didactic, lasting for generations to come. It can act as an important tool to form a social consciousness (Project: Reach 11, Riva chapel, Cadman Tower, VA Beach) 2. To question lineages: Why can I walk around my home, but not my apartment? Can a funerary chapel instigate a moment of compassion? This value calls to ask ‘why?’. Why are things the way they are? What are the possibilities of a certain typology? How can an architectural lineage be reinterpreted to support my ideas and thoughts. (Project: Renovation, Residence, Cadman Tower, Reach 11, Riva Chapel, VA Beach)

Portfolio 2020, 18”X12”. This book is an abbreviated collection of work done in academia. The year began with an analysis of previous projects to get direction for the next steps.

3. To compose architecture as music: The last yet most important value. The prominent characteristics of music is its sequential nature. Inherently, music involves movement over time. It requires transitions, scenes, layers, pacing, moments of crisis, and moments of pure release, and together, these agencies create a complex system - much like a system of gears which would grind with and against each other, adding new gears with time and slowly creating a multilayered whole. Even while writing this, I am listening to ‘House of Hancock’ by guitarist

and episodic nature of music. While I am in one moment, another creeps in and slowly leads me to an unexpected tension, only to slowly give way to a resolving crescendo. Layers keep adding and disappearing, and this holds true for even for a piece of writing, be it via images through films and movies, or via words in books and novels. Couldn’t the spaces we live in be the same? Architecture, like music and writing, involves movement over time along a simple linear trajectory. It is fundamentally episodic. Like the scores of Jonny Greenwood, it too can be composed with the idea of the audience’s journey through moments of tension and release, episodes of layers and transitions, and scenes of intros and crescendos. The third value calls for a composer to approach the methodology and the process of creating architecture. It calls for attention to time and to movement, to setting and stage and to the rhythm and melodies to create a whole. (Project: Boathouse, Reach 11, Riva chapel) The project, Riva Chapel, was accompanied by a particular narrative revolving around the act of the ‘burial’. It questioned and reinterpreted the Catholic funerary procession through an architecture which focused on the transition of the body from the city into the cemetery- both for the living and for the dead. The project was composed of sequential scenes. Afterwards, these episodes were written down as the story of a procession-one involving a protagonist who has lost a loved one. Other than drawings and models, this story now became a way to express the Riva Chapel- one which involved imagery and imagination. This process sparked an interest in architecture introduced to narrative.

y: tension

climax

crisis

opening

beginning

middle

end

beginning

midde

end

x: time

(Above) A section through the Riva Chapel project. (Below) A study of a typical song structure along time and tension to show the episodes and transitions that occur within the sequences of any song. As each song bring something new to the table, this graph can vary rather extremely.

Track: Knights of Errant With time, layers add on. The music goes through episodes of tension and release, and with time the crescendo. Can this graph be applied to architecture?

There were 37 people in the house today, and X’s friend Y wasn’t one of them. ‘Heart attack’, the doctor had said. No one was ready.

Riva

Today had come, finally. Everyone was marching to the cemetery, flags baring, with neighbors holding hands. Y’s daughter was quiet, with a dead stare towards the empty horizon in front of her. Then, we reached the cemetery. Priests stood around the casket, which was now lying on a bed within the cemetery walls. Here, at this boundary, I realized that my friend Y is about to enter a new world. Soon, the priests asked us to follow him. We left X at the bed, but the ceremony wasn’t done We followed the priests until we flanked the cemetery, to see the chapel in the distance ahead. A wall led us there. It grew from a corner to a plaza, and finally into the cemetery. Here, we arrived back to X, but now from the other side of the cemetery wall. All this while, X was in a state of limbo. He was neither inside the cemetery nor in the city of the living. He was within the boundary. Now that we were with him again, it was up to us to receive him and to take him to the final stage: the burial.

The bed is a pedestal. Facing up, the sky is looked upon, and here, the body lies neither within nor outside. It belongs neither to the cemetery of the dead, nor to the city of the living. It exists in limbo, dependent on its family members to collect themselves and prepare it for the burial.

Sketches of the scenes associated with each moment, of the movement, and of the story of the Riva Chapel.

Narrative

Storytelling, music and architecture involves a sensibility towards movement through time, setting/context, and towards transitions in between sequences/acts/chapters/spaces.

“Narrative means that the object in question contains some ‘other’ existence which is parallel to its function. This object has been invested with a fictional plane of signification that renders it fugitive, mercurial and subject to interpretation.If a conventional narrative in a work of fiction binds characters, events and places within an overarching plot, in an environment the narrative carries all of the above, but the fictional or the subject might be tested against physical reality. Narrative ‘fictionalises’ our surroundings in an accentuation of explicit reality.” Nigel Coates, 2012. Reader, let me ask you. “How many architectures of narrative have you encounter, or to begin with, how would you even prescribe meaning to an architectural narrative?”. In our general course of navigating the world, we can discover architectural narratives everywhere. Unplanned settlements, medieval villages, isolated tribes, or even a shanty town, all contain a complex narrative. Narrative has its roots in the world we inhabit, its application to architecture is both primal and fundamental. With roots in Latin as ‘narrare’, a narrative organises events of a real or fictional nature into a sequence recounted by a ‘narrator’ (in some cases, the narrator is unreliable- and untrustworthy storyteller whose credibility has been compromised. But for simplicity’s sake, we shall stray away from these cases). Along with exposition, argumentation and description, narration is one of the four categories of rhetoric. The constructed format of a narrative can extend beyond speech to poetry, singing, writing, drama and cinema. The Oxford dictionary defines ‘narrative’ as ‘a spoken or written account of connected events’, or ‘a story’. However, in the architectural discourse, a narrative associated with any function exposes the subject in question to a fictional plane of signification, one that transcends our reality. A narrative approach to architecture suggests a familiar dialogue between the physical and the phenomenal, and discovering how each can be found in the other. Nowadays it is common to speak of the ‘narrative’ of a building, but how often does the term suggest any more than the idea behind the project? Could it indicate a poetic message bound up in the architecture’s material and physical manifestation? “The terms ‘narrative’ and ‘architecture’ may not at first seem to be natural bedfellows. In today’s sense they suffer from slightly oppositional problems: the former proliferated and diluted, the latter restricted and reduced.” Nigel Coates, 2012.

Inherent narratives

Storytelling is as old as the hills. Even before the help of writing, universal myths were shaped by the oral traditions, passed down by storytellers, musicians, poets, artists and architecture. Since antiquity, mankind has collectively searched for answers to the mysteries of the universe, painting them on walls and encapsulating them in stories. The beginnings of architecture has been interpreted as the primitive hut, or as Umberto Eco says with the stone age man who uses a cave for shelter one night, and comes to the realization of caves a type, communicating to his society the idea of caves, now becoming a sign. Myths and religions alike narrate the origin of the world and answer the mysteries of the universe in terms of everyday phenomena- in light and darkness, in animals and nature, and in omnipotent and ever present men. Now, since architecture be interpreted through narrative, the architect has been able to invest in the architecture with an inherent story which would run parallel to its function. Ancient temples, for instance, tell stories. Institutions such as churches and cathedrals, tombs and temples, citadels and ziggurats contained narrative as a result of the desire to tell the story of God in every way possible, including the configuration of the Body of Christ in plan, decoration and configuration of churches, to the description of temples as the cosmic man. These institutions, as the most significant public centres, had every aspect about them layered with a symbolic purpose. Newgrange is another such example. Conceived in 3200 BC, Newgrange is a prehistoric monument pre-dating even the Stonehenge and the Egyptian pyramids, and is best known for the illumination of its passage and chamber by the winter solstice sun. It is essentially a tomb. On the 21st December, the chamber which is normally a rather dark place would light up with the dawn sunrise for a period of up to 17 minutes depending on weather conditions. The drawing above shows the tomb and its passage in section. However, Newgrangeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s purpose and function is still debatable. Many archaeologists believed that the monument had religious significance of some sort or another, either as a place of worshipping death and life, or for an astronomically-based faith.

The temple is seen as a link between man and god; and between the actual and the ideal. As such it has got to be symbolic. A temple usually called Devalaya, the abode of God and has a significant degree of symbolism; it involves a multiple sets of ideas and imagery.

Garba-griham (main sanctum) is equated with human head; Antarala (vestibule) is equated with human neck; Ardha â&#x20AC;&#x201C; mandapam (half-hall) is compared with human chest; Maha â&#x20AC;&#x201C; mandapam (main hall) is equated with the stomach; Flag-post is viewed along with human male organ; Gopuram or temple gateway tower is viewed along with human feet.

Rudimentary stepwells first appeared in India between the 2nd and 4th centuries A.D., born of necessity in a capricious climate zone bone-dry for much of the year followed by torrential monsoon rains for many weeks. It was essential to guarantee a year-round water-supply for drinking, bathing, irrigation and washing, particularly in the arid and dry states of Gujarat And Rajasthan where the water table could be inconveniently buried ten-stories or more underground. Over the centuries, stepwell construction evolved so that by the 11th century they were monumental and complex feats of architecture. 19th-century saw several thousand stepwells in varying degrees throughout India in cities and villages. Eventually, stepwells also proliferated along crucial, remote trade routes where travelers and pilgrims could park their animals and take shelter in covered arcades. From an architecture of need, they soon became an architecture of celebration as the ultimate public monuments available to both genders, every religion, seemingly anyone at all but for the lowest-caste Hindu. However, the stepwells of India carry quite an interesting narrative.

(Above) Rani ki Vav in Gujarat. This stepwell was built at the height of the craftsmensâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; ability in stepwell construction in the Maru-Gurjara architecture style, reflecting mastery of this complex technique and beauty of detail and proportions.

Adalaj vav in Gujarat. This monument was built in 1498 in the memory of Rana Veer Singh, by his wife Queen Rudadevi in Adalaj, Gujarat. The photograph above shows the dark and innermost level of the stepwell during the dry months. As the ultimate public architecture, the stepwells were well shaded and ventilated, providing water to the locale and refuge from the harsh summer suns.

The story of the river in a city. The many stepwells of India contain the inherent narrative with the characters of the city, the people and a river which manifests under the dry spell. It speaks upon the act of descending into water, or descending within the rocky and dark earth itself to reach our most essential source - water. As a sacred space, it became a place of celebration and worship centered around an urban landmark- a seasonal river.

Soon, stepwells of all shapes and sizes were conceived. However its intense narrative and disciplined function, its poetic relationship to water and to people, and its urban significance in a city persisted. As a typology, it was a unique architectural expression layered with heavy heavy undertones of narrative, symbolism and metaphor. (Above, Left to right) Chand Bawri, Agrasen ki Baoli and the Red Fort Baoli in Delhi.

Tangents Narrative and function run parallel to each other. Both the agencies are co-dependent as the existence of one depends highly on the intensity of the other.

The Maunsell Sea forts off of the shore of the Thames estuary are abandoned and lone structures and relicsfrom a war-torn past.

The focus on the word ‘narrative’ as well as the understanding of its relationship to the functional aspect of architecture led to tangential thoughts along the lines of the ‘re-use’ and ‘re-interpretation’ of the subject in question. If every architecture is thought to contain some proportion of inherent narrative, then isn’t it possible to consider the newly built in the urban fabric to be ‘a part of’ or ‘an interpretation of’’ this pre-existing catalog of narrative? Should every architect then make it their mission statement to continue this pre-existing catalog? Should every architect build on the built, interpreting the narrative of the built with each generation, and adding layers of each era to a continuous story? Of course, these thoughts are extreme, but they speak of a desire to respond to the issues we collectively face today: overpopulation, mass migration to land-locked urban centres, and limited availability of resources. This thought asks to build up, rather than horizontal- to add on rather than add next to, and by doing so, responding to the inherent narrative of the built.

they live in. However, there is one condition - they must build onto the existing tower. This competition is a chance for architects to make a stand, to speak and to teach. After another 20 years, another architect is selected to create upon this tower. This lineage continues and goes on and on. As the city grows, the tower grows with it. As the city grows, people change with it - their priorities change, their concerns change and the world around them changes. This tower will

Maunsell sea forts 12

154’-4”

6’-

7”

126’-7”

60°

7”

6’-

126’-7”

154’-4”

Architect: Guy Maunsell Opened: 1942 In use: World War 2 Location: Off shore on the Thames estuary Status: Abandoned In early 1941 civil engineer Guy Maunsell was contacted by the British Admiralty to come up with plans for combatting the German bombing campaign. He sketched out designs for the construction of 7 offshore, interconnected naval defense structures with living 75’ quarters and fitted armaments meant for the sole purpose of shooting down German warplanes. In their 3 years of operation during World War II the Maunsell Sea Forts were instrumental in the defence of the Thames Estuary and the Greater London Area; protecting its supply routes and combating The Blitz. Post World War II the forts were removed from active duty. Like the soldiers who were stationed there, these forts had once stood tall and proud. Now, After the sea forts were abandoned, fishermen and metal traders would periodically scavenge the structures for materials or useful components. They would either trade the scrap for money or repurpose the metals to fabricate their own products. The steel cladding, fasteners, brass portholes, and fittings became prime targets to be harvested. Over the decades, the Thames Army Forts took on a variety of miscellaneous uses. One such use was their appropriation as a shellfish habitat for the native species of mollusks indigenous to the Thames Estuary. The Maunsell Sea Forts have changed drastically since their initial conception as offshore defense outposts. They have been decommissioned, scavenged, and overtaken for a myriad of different purposes throughout the years. The forts could have easily been cast aside at the end of their active military career, but instead they were repurposed again and again, perhaps due to their war-torn past. They were titans on the sea, Britain’s last line of defence.Their story is that of a dishonored, underappreciated and disrespected war veteran. The discovery of such obsolescent pieces of architecture evokes a profound sense of nostalgia and loss. Their abandonment, much like a lonely orphan adrift, draws our affection.

Built in the Thames and Mersey estuaries during the Second World War, the Maunsell sea forts stand as obsolete and neglected structures from a war torn past.

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If every architecture is thought to contain some proportion of inherent narrative, then isn’t it possible to consider the newly built in the urban fabric to be ‘a part of’ or ‘an interpretation of’’ this preexisting catalog of narrative? This question is investigated with the possibilities of various monuments and their possible narrative reinterpretations.

During the time the war, the Maunsell Sea forts managed to cumulatively shoot down 22 German warplanes, 30 flying bombs, and one German E-Boat before V.E Day on May 8th 1945. In their 3 years of operation during World War II, the Maunsell Sea Forts were instrumental in the defence of the Thames Estuary

All things in their due course move towards inevitable entropy. It is universally accepted that in time things begin, change, end, and begin anew again. Modern society’s subconscious fears of decay, and subsequently death, are directly related to their perceptions of usefulness and the prime state of being. Now, these Maunsell Sea Forts are obsolescent pieces of architecture which evoke a profound sense of nostalgia and loss.

Each 40 years, the Sea Forts see yet another architectural addition to its narrative. Each color represents such an addition, and over time, this Sea Fort will become ever-growing tower.

Maunsell Archive: The tower of our collective human data. This archive will be a breathing architecture, growing and evolving with each passing generation and technology, eternal and timeless. The sketch above shows the tower over time.

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1980

2020

Maunsell archive

The 21st century architecture should not hope for a virgin piece of land to erect yet another building upon. The architect should know how to build on the built.

2060

2100

Considering the issues of our century- ever-growing cities, migration from rural to urban areas, and cities becoming the economical and geographical hubs of nations- an architect must no longer hope for a blank plot of land to inflict upon. That model of architecture may have doomed in the first half of this century. Today’s architect must know the essence of building on, or out of, the already built and finished, or even unfinished. This should be the new way of architecture: one which continues the narrative of the built.

“Attention! Every 40 years, there is to be a competition for all architects (licensed and unlicensed) in the world to build a proposal on the abandoned Maunsell Sea Forts: a neglected relic from a war torn past. The participants are to enter a proposal in response to the era they live in. The jury is to select the entry which would address the current social and political psyche of our era. Today we are in 2140, the 4th edition of this competition. Come join the previous winners: Bjark Ingels, Damien LeeSchwitz, and Amaya Maya, to become part of the story of a hundred generations, and of humanity’s existence!After another 40 years, another architect is to be selected to create upon this tower, and so on. Do not miss this opportunity! Competition details will be posted in the coming weekend address by your national leader. Attention!...” creaked the radio. “As time has gone on, our cities and our technology, along with us and the Maunsell Sea Forts has continiously evolved. With each edition of this competition, the forts have become an ever-growing tower. Each addition has demonstrated its era. In 1940, this tower was but an abandoned military fort. In 1980, the architect proposed a science and technology lab to develop cleaner and alternative fuels. In 2020, an isolation center. In 2060, a safe retreat for compromised journalists and in 2100, a nuclear shelter. Over time, this tower has become an archive collecting data on each era as a masnifested in the form of this monumental architecture. Instead of a still architecture of one age, we ask for a living architecture of countless ages. It will become a physical expression of our time and will be an archive for us to look back and learn from! Links to the competition has been shared on your ‘GovtBook; profiles. The Maunsell Archive in the Thames Estuary is open Monday to Friday, 9am to 5pm, for those who would like to visit. You have...” -P.M. Oliver Peyton, 2140

2140

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Raimund Abraham belonged to that group of architects who contributed to the discourse of architectural drawings, so much so that his drawings became an integral part of his creative endeavour. His oeuvre is complemented by an elaborate collection of such exploratory drawings that depict architecture in imaginary, seemingly utopian environments. His quasidream-like landscapes project an architecture which, like Piranesi, one would call off the Earth, but not on the Earth. These unearthly subjects of his drawings defy the gravity and laws of our world, yet we approach them with a familiar sense of recognition. However, Raimund Abraham stands out amidst his counterparts Piranesi, Boullee etc because a selection of his drawings have manifested in our physical reality. One can draw comparisons between the architectural subject in the drawings and the same architectural subjects in reality, but reader, his drawings were not drawing for art, nor to be translated into structure: it was drawing to How do youtoshow thesethe narratives? question universal ideas of place, time and experience. It was drawing translate story of To the reader I ask, what do you think of architecture drawings? his architectures Raimund Abraham believed that architecture didn’t have to be built, that the drawing of the sketch was just as important as the actual building process. He explained this belief during a conversation with Christian Reder and Dietmar Steiner, saying that, “The drawing is Independent and shouldn’t be seen as a preliminary stage. The piece of paper represents a place, while architecture represents the physical intervention to that place.” -Raimund Abraham

Architecture can be an autonomous discipline; a field in which architects don’t have to build. Rather they can just imagine, as long as they are able to translate their imagined designs through drawings or language.

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a new means

Piranesi’s Imaginary Prisons. These etchings were issued as a collection of fourteen around 1749–50. The immensity and ambiguity of these structures reinforces the sense of wonderment that inspired generations of artists, writers, and others to reassess the majesty and grandeur of classical design.

“What is architecture? Shall I join Vitruvius in defining it as the art of building ? Indeed, no, for there is a flagrant error in this definition. Vitruvius mistakes the effect for the cause. In order to execute, it is first necessary to conceive. Our earliest ancestors built their huts only when they had a picture of them in their minds. It is this product of the mind, this process of creation. that constitutes architecture and which can consequently be defined as the art of designing and bringing to perfection any building whatsoever. Thus, the art of construction is merely an auxiliary art which, in our opinion, could appropriately be called the scientific side of architecture.” Etienne-Louis Boullee. Narrative means that the object in question contains some ‘other’ existence which is parallel to its function, that this subject has been invested with a fictional plane of signification that renders it fugitive, mercurial and subject to interpretation. An architect can do much to translate and represent this fictional, symbolic reality. Historically, the discipline of architecture has continuously drawn parallels between architecture and drawing. Drawing and architecture are so bound up with each other that it is normally assumed (at least by architects) that, as Tschumi says, without drawing there would be no architecture. Readers, the lineage of drawings and tis relationship with architecture has constantly changed over the course of new materials, conventions and techniques, and drawings they continuously responded to the changing visual climate. However, it was only with the Italian Renaissance, i.e in the 15th and 16th centuries and with the newly emerged manifestations of the ‘art’ in architecture, that drawings became a significant feature of architecture. Of course, Abbot Suger and the master masons of Sainte Chapelle had to draw the cruciform plan of the church to show his ‘trick’ in hiding the “Architecture does not exist without drawing, in the same way, that architecture does not exist without texts.” Bernard Tschumi, 1980⁠—81, 102. “I have no need whatsoever to draw my designs. Good architecture, how something is to be built, can be written. One can write the Parthenon.” Adolf Loos, 1924, 139.

15.

columns, along with the intricate work done on the church’s many ribbed vaults. However, reader, I mean to say that only with the 15th and 16th centuries, and with the introduction of the artist-architect and the picturesque- the suggestive and anectoday way of drawing (versus the technical orthogonal and perspective drawings)- was architecture revolutionised, and that too rather radically. Reader! I would like to introduce to you to Giovanni Battista Piranesi- an Italian artist most famously known for his fictive and atmospheric etchings. Born in 1730, he had wished to reinvigorate Rome through monumental reimaginings of its ancient structures, and his etchings were his means to translate the narrative. In the etchings, one saw sublime built landscapes that seemed, in their grandness and detail, to be alternate worlds themselves, They seemed to be landscapes of Earth but, somehow, not on Earth. Despite any propagandistic aims (built upon nationalism and nostalgia for a bygone era of glory, and the social qualities which he believed could be “I need to produce great ideas, and I believe instilled by ancient Roman architecture), the that if I were commissioned to design a new plates called for imaginative exploration universe, I would be mad enough to undertake and the introduction of fiction to drawing. it.” Giovanni Battista Piranesi. While his etchings showed and introduced

Piranesi’s etching.

the idea of ambience, mystery and imagery, it was common practice in Piranesi’s time to place detailed, gesticulating figures within built or natural environments to better convey a sense of scale. Of course, Piranesi did use this tool partly with the same intent, but his figures also exist as a second-hand way for him to interact with the drawn environments. Reader, ponder about Piranesi’s ability to show the effect of time, and to make you imagine scenes centuries earlier when the Roman Empire was at its zenith; his experimenting with provocative evidence from the past to give a glimpse of architecture’s inherent possibilities. The coming centuries saw pioneers such as Etienne-Louis Boullee, and more recently Brodsky and Utkin, Raimund Abraham etc. Drawings became an architect’s means to project a reality. Boullée’s designs are disconcerting with the idea of a desertied world, habited by isolated structures: one difficult to imagine as inhabitable as often as they are beautiful. His work they plays with the idea of the sublime. With the manifestation of the ‘art’ in architecture, drawing has become one of the first skills to be acquired by anyone aspiring to be an architect.

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It feels appropriate now to introduce the second artist, Etienne-Louis Boullee. As a visionary French neoclassical architect, theorist and teacher, Boullee built little in his career. He is, however, almost entirely known for the designs he made in the last two decades of his life that are at once beautiful and monotonous, futuristic and ancient. Boullee must have realised and could not have expected his monumental designs to be built. Rather, I think the drawings by the architect can be viewed as his intensifying intrigue with symbolism, mystery, order and the pictorial. Boullée’s designs were disconcerting. There was an idea of a deserted world of monumental and larger than life structures one would find difficult to imagine as inhabitable. As often as they are beautiful, they play with the idea of the sublime.

“Painting is not a state of perfection; it is not a state of grace. You paint because there is something inside your chest that wants to get out. It cannot stay in there. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts like a head-splitting toothache. It must get out.” Leonardo Ricci, Anonymous. The same can be said for drawing, even architectural drawing. Boullee must have realised and could not have expected most of his monumental designs to be built. He too must have felt this incredible desire to express. The ideas, thoughts and the narrative of his drawings and his architecture could not have been expressed by simple drawing conventions from the past; some may argue that the power of his architecture may

Boullée’s Opera While Boullée’s opera was never built, its grandeur and magnificence inspired countless generations of architects to come. A crosssection from the side shows the auditorium on the left and the stage on the right.

dwindle when manifested in our physical realm. In his drawings, the architecture exists on a fictional plane in a fictitious reality. It intrigues, invokes and makes the viewer imagine its world. For some, it suggests a kind of utopia where grandiose architecture exists with intense magnificence, while for others it shows an imposing, tyrannical architecture with no consideration of the individual. While the drawing’s power of suggestion is boundless, the question remainsif the drawings are suggestive of a subject which exists in an alternative, fictitious reality, is the subject still architecture?

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A different space-time

“In march of this year I experienced and recorded my first architectural dream. As my recollection of dreams has usually been vague, fragmentary and distorted, this particular dream left a precise and lasting imprint on my memory… ... It was the precision of my memory which enabled me to demystify the imaginary quality of the dream: surreal and real became interchangeable metaphors.” -Raimund Abraham, 1983.

Raimund Abraham believed that architecture didn’t have to be built, that the drawing of the sketch was just as important as the actual building process. He explained this belief during a conversation with Christian Reder and Dietmar Steiner, saying that, ‘the drawing is Independent and shouldn’t be seen as a preliminary stage. The piece of paper represents a place, while architecture represents the physical intervention to that place.’

“When I draw, the drawing is not a step toward the built but an autonomous reality that I try to anticipate… Now, when you translate the drawings, one also has to distinguish between the drawings you make in this autonomous process - where the drawing is the ultimate reality... From the moment I know that something is going to be built, my drawings become something else. And at that point I draw less and build models immediately. One really has to distinguish between those different phases.” -Raimund Abraham in dialogue with Carlos Brillembourg, 2001.

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Aircraft Carrier City in Landscape Exterior perspective 1964. This photomontage comes from Hollein’s series Transformations, created between 1963 and 1968. In the series, an agricultural or urban landscape, often barren, is the site for a monumental industrial object.

“It appears as if it (the decontextualised Aircraft carrier in landscape collages) were a still from some vaguely familiar film. It is also strangely timeless. Is this playful pop sciencefiction or more terrifying eastern bloc propaganda? Is it supposed to be ironic? Might it even be real? For Hollein, the title of the piece offers a clue to his understanding of its reality, for this collage is presented to us not so much as a nautical, nor even a pastoral model, but as something resolutely urban - an engineered, self-contained city, wherever it happens to land... ...Hollein seemed to be especially drawn to this military vessel. We find it again in other sketches and visualisations from the same period, and in an extended descriptive text written by Hollein that formed part of an unused page layout for the Viennese architectural journal, Bau... ...What initially seems like the most bucolic of landscapes is actually an illusion, for Hollein very deliberately photo- graphed this section of countryside along the demilitarised zone that ran immediately parallel to the east-west border - a stretch of landscape pockmarked with hundreds of landmines. The meadows, in this sense, are not benign but malignant. And it is the aircraft carrier that is the victim, marooned on its hillside and robbed of its mobility.” -Eva Branscome, Ship to Shore 2017

Hans Hollein was an Austrian architect and Pritzker Prize winner, a key figure of postmodern architecture and in the discourse of architecture drawing.

Through the use of techniques such as collage, photography, Hollein inserted monumental pieces in landscapes, creating archetypal megastructure and abstract urban forms infrastructures out of decontextualized objects Aircraft Carrier City in Landscape is one of the century’s great architectural drawings and possibly the most enigmatic project of its author, architect Hans Hollein. It collages the looming silhouette of an aircraft carriers- the state-of-the-art engineering marvel of the timeonto a panoramic sequence of black and white photographs with gently undulating hills and fields in some unknown, rural landscape.

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Reader, my fifth reference is going to be recent pioneers in the field of paper architecture, Alexander Brodsky and Ilya Utkin: perhaps the most intense example of paper architects. However, to be an architect with vision in the Soviet Union during the 1970s was to witness a near complete loss of the historical architectural heritage.

“Faceless functionalism continud to dominate throught the Brezhnev years as economic constraints, a hopelessly tangled bureaucratic procedure, a dearth of building materials, and a shrinking body of skilled labors exacerbated unimaginative planning.” -Lois E. Nesbitt, 1991 Restrictions on aesthetics, quality building materials, and access to skilled labor resulted in poorly designed structures void of inspiration that were practically destined to crumble. Architects with any shred of ambition were severely limited by communist bureaucracy and were often outright penalized for their ideas. Desperately seeking a creative outlet, these constrained artists and designers turned instead to paper. Brodksy and Utkin drew from their imaginations to create fantastical etchings as a rebellion against the identity-devouring, communist architecture. For them, a core concern was the effect of cities on the human psyche, and their etchings typically present whole worlds or environments rather than individual buildings. Hence, you may assume that they fall in the same category as Le Corbusier’s Ville Radieuses (1930), or even his Plans for Algiers

and Barcelona and “cité-jardin vertical” (1935). However, these schemes contained a social agenda to advent societal transformations and were often accompanied with manifestos. For Brodsky and Utkin, narrative and symbol replace manifesto and icon. Readers, the narrative of Brodsky and Utkinis was of a sickened world; of a dying organism. They question the way we live as the cities we live in are an expression of ourselves. They diagnose our way of living as diseased, our contemporary malaise and our current psyche. They comment and critique on the modern man.

‘Paper architecture’ has often been used pejoratively to refer to architects making utopian, dystopian or fantasy projects, or avant-garde projects, that were never meant to be built. Rather, the work stays on paper. Above: Plates by Brosdky and Utkin- each offers a comment or a critique on the modern man.

“Their mission is to save it (our cities) via imaginative transformation.” -Lois E. Nesbitt, 1991 Readers, the narrative of Brodsky and Utkinis was of a sickened world; of a dying organism. They question the way we live as the cities we live in are an expression of ourselves. They diagnose our way of living as diseased, our contemporary malaise and our current psyche. They offer sobering critiques of modern man, his social and physical reality and of oppression by showing an exquisite and detailed alternative, fictive landscape recognizable as our own world, but sickened.

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Illusions and disillusion abound by these architects of imagination. In Columbarium Habitabile (1989), Brodsky and Utkin Brodsky invented the recessed vaults of a columbarium in an attempt to lay out a monument for the storage and preservation of countless antique buildings destroyed by the Soviet government and replaced with poorly constructed, concrete, faceless box-homes. A columbarium for the bygone days of society, being replaced with an indentiless architecture. A wrecking ball hovers above the courtyard, like the tyranny of the state ready to smash its citizens. The etching’s text explains that if occupants abandon their home in the columbarium, the building will be demolished, leaving a free recessed vault for a new house and family. The floor of the gigantic room is strewn with tiny residents and visitors scurrying about like insects beneath a Zap light. A large, empty chair sits in the foreground with a table laid out for tea, looking out at the imposing courtyard. Here, he ponders the fate of the chair’s owner. Here, viewers contemplate the destiny of the homes on the brink of disappearance. Their etchings were accompanied by a melancholy literature- a short text, story, poem, prose etc. Yes, Brodsky and Utkin were pioneering paper architects who used drawings as a means to project a new reality, but they also incorporated language to express what their drawings could not. In some of the plates, the text is barely readable, and in others the text is in the foreground. In Columbarium Habitabile, the etching’s text explains that if occupants abandon their home in the columbarium, the building will be demolished, leaving a free recessed vault for a new house and family. The etchings are similar to the futuristic drawings of Lebbeus Woods in the way that they marvel the chaos of our human ingenuity, or even the radical “Library of Babel” imagined by Jorge Luis Borges. These etchings contain an intense inherent narrative and carry heavy symbolism.

From 1978 to 1993, the renowned Soviet “paper architects” Alexander Brodsky and Ilya Utkin created an incredible collection of elaborate etchings depicting outlandish, often impossible, buildings and cityscapes.

There is an interesting duality in between the two means of expressions adopted by Brodsky and Utkin to express their architecture and its narrative. This duality between ‘the drawing’ and ‘the language’ and the power of each in the architectural discourse has been ancient debate. The notion “paper-architecture” expresses a typical limitation to architectural creativity in the Soviet Union of the time, emerging out of, as Leonardo Ricci states, inside your chest. It cannot stay in there. It hurts like a head-splitting toothache. It must get out.

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The ancient debate In what way does language succeed and drawing fail? Some suggestions of how we may think of this question were made by Roland Barthes in his analysis of the system of fashion. He wrote: “To combat the tyranny of visual perception and to tie meaning to other modes of perception or sensation is obviously one of the functions of language. In the order of forms, speech brings into existence values which images can account for only poorly: speech is more adept than images at making ensembles and movements signify (we are not saying: at making them more perceptible): the world places its force of abstraction and synthesis at the disposal of the semantic system of clothing.” Roland Barthes (1990, 119).

Introduction to Italian Architect Leonardo Ricci’s ‘Anonymous 20th century’. The excerpt talks about the significance of writing and expressing using words.

Where drawings pretend to project a reality, the significance and power of languages, be it a poem, a prose, a story, or a simple text lies in abstraction and synthesis. Language is about keeping reality at bay. It permits signification, it encourages one thing to be ‘seen as’ another. It stimulates a sense of potential ambiguity that lies at the basis of meaning, in a way that drawings can only do prosaically. Language does not deal with directness, it deals with metaphor and ambiguity. What it allows is a freedom from the relentless exactitude of the drawing. Italian author Italo Calvino, with works such as ‘Invisible Cities’ and ‘Mr. Palomar’, is a master author who takes his readers to a different space-time. With a few words, his readers interpret and drown in a subjectively imaginary world where architecture is suggested rather than perceived. As Forty puts it, there is only one kind of drawing that may be synonymous with the ambiguity and intangible metaphors of language - the sketch. It is this abstraction, this shift and drift away from actuality and analysis, that has captivated some architects to pursue an expression through language. It is through their writing that they are able to succeed in ways drawing would fail.

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To the reader I ask, what power do words hold over drawings?

Adrian Forty, in his book ‘Words and Languages’ quotes Plato who asks in Dialogue of the Sophist: “Do we not make one house by the art of building, and another by the art of drawing, which is a sort of dream? Other products of human imitation are also twofold and go in pairs: there is a thing and the image.” To which Forty asks, “Could we not, then, think of verbal remarks of architecture in similar terms? If the drawing of the house ‘is a sort of dream’, compared to the somatic house, what is the house that is spoken of?”

Where does drawing fail and language suceed?

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Words Readers, I will not tell you about a great book that depicts fantastical cities which would appear in your imagination, making you feel as if you are a traveler in the strange, unearthly world of its author. To read ‘Invisible Cities’ by Italian author Italo Calvino, you must understand that it is necessary to allow the mind to be open to the images presented by Marco Polo’s descriptions. However, as we build his world in our mind, we should question the credibility of the author and of what Polo recites to the emperor, Kublai Khan. “Aayush! You MUST read this book. Every student should.” Steve and Cathi had said as they had gifted me this book- perhaps my most prized possession. Italian author Italo Calvino, with works such as ‘Invisible Cities’ and ‘Mr. Palomar’, is a master author who takes his readers to a different spacetime. With a few words, his readers interpret and drown in a subjectively imaginary world where architecture is suggested rather than perceived.

With Italo Calvino’s ‘Invisible Cities’, an architect gains insight. They wittness a new level of imagination, a new dimension that this book opens up.

The power of this book lies in its intense use of imagery- the language of the mind. The mind speaks in images and then translates those images into words. Imagery is the definition given to the elements that arouse the five senses in a poem. With the use of vast literary tools such as simile, metaphor, onomatopoeia, metonymy and personification and synecdoche amongst others, writers can successfully bring to our mind the beautiful picture of things that exist and things that don’t. Yes, readers, a mere few words have the power to synthesize in your mind a whole world. Welcome to Calvino’s playground.

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Take ‘The Glass Menagerie’ by Tennessee Williams for instance. This 1944 play owes all of its poignancy to the many glass figurines which symbolize Laura’s fragility. Without imagery, you are staring at empty words on paper. You are not enticing the mind’s eye. You are not appealing to the five senses, and as a result, you are not engrossed in a story. Good imagery is psychologically sensual, hence significant.

“I speak and speak,” Marco Polo says, “but the listener retains only the words he is expecting… It is not the voice that commands the story: it is the ear.” Marco Polo to Kublai Khan, Invisible Cities. “Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities is a series of descriptions, really conversations, told by his fictitious Marco Polo to an invented Kublai Khan. As Marco travels round the world on the Emperor’s business, his job is not to bring back treasure or trade, but to barter in stories – the accumulated wealth of his imagination.”- Jeanette Winterson, 2001. Italo Calvino, in his book, describes a total of fifty-five cities, all women’s names. The cities are divided into eleven thematic groups, and each chapter delves into thin cities, cities and desire, cities and the dead, cities and memory, continuous cites, cities and signs. He takes the readers on a journey across the vast empire of Kublai Khan, across remote and exotic cities, defying our definition of how life may be lived. However, we soon learn that Calvino, throughout the book and throughout all the 55 fantastical cities, had been writing about Venice Language allows Italo Calvino to keep reality at bay, to address ambiguity and play with the imagination of the reader. Words allow him to succeed in ways drawings would not, and perhaps that is why he does permit drawings in his book. Drawings and interpretations show these fantastical cities, but fail to capture the suggestive characteristic of words. Calvino invites the reader for a constant imaginative interpretation of his text. It requires a simpler approach to literature, that reading should not be an arduous task that requires squeezing every bit of meaning from the text. Instead, it should be an enjoyable, imaginative and an adventure that is enjoyed for both the escape it provides and the new perception that it may provide.

With ‘Invisible Cities’, one doesn’t gain knowlegde of any design principle or any construction methodology, but what one learns in the process is the depth of the influence of an architect’s work. Not just in terms of significance, but in terms of perceptions. One learns how an architect’s creation inspires everyone differently.

Reader, this book is not only a great piece of literature, but it can be called a piece of art, a kind of a three dimensional story. I would call this book a painting of many layers, and here the reader is the creator as well. Calvino only shows the possible variants, but readers create their own cities and gardens, even the whole new worlds. As Forty puts it, there is only one kind of drawing that may be synonymous with the ambiguity and intangible metaphors of language⁠— the sketch. Italo Calvino’s language is that of the sketch. Regardless of how many times Invisible Cities is read, the reader cannot help but feel that without imagination, they would not really be able to play Calvino’s game.

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Part 2. Adventitious exploration. Discovering a thesis exploration statement, and practicing design research on the selected topic.

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Draw /drô/ verb 1.

to extract the essence from // draw tea

to give a portrayal of : DELINEATE

to design or describe in detail : FORMULATE

“The writer’s thought does not control his language from without. My words take me by surprise and teach me what I think.” -Merleau Ponty, quoted in Derrida, 1978, 11 The same can be said for architecture, or any, drawing. The drawing is not so much a representation of an idea. It creates a particular reality of its own. “Do we not make one house by the art of building, and another by the art of drawing, which is a sort of dream? Other products of human imitation are also twofold and go in pairs: there is a thing, and the image. - Plato, in dialogue with the Sophist, 266.

MY Thesis What if the aim is to find a new way to begin? My thesis investigates a new approach towards thinking spatially and tectonically about issues of architecture. It does not, per se, aim to create an artifact called ‘architecture.’ The intention is to rewire my design methodology.

Only with the Italian Rennaisance, in the 15th & 16th centuries with the newly emerged manifestations of the ‘art’ in architecture, did drawings become a significant feature of building production. Could we not, then, think of verbal remarks of architecture in similar terms? If the drawing of the house ‘is a sort of dream’, compared to the somatic house, what is the house that is spoken of?

Write

Typically, there is a linear architectural model: analysis and ideation, followed by synthesis and validation. Naturally, there is a dichotomy between process and project. However, in my thesis they exist in duality.

/rīt/ verb.

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1.`

to form (words) by inscribing characters or symbols on a surface.

to compose in musical form.

Fiction /‘fikSH(ə)n/ noun 1.

literature in the form of prose, especially short stories and novels, that describes imaginary events and people.

invention or fabrication as opposed to fact.

a belief or statement that is false, but that is often held to be true because it is expedient to do so.

“I have no need whatsoever to draw my designs. Good architecture, how something is to be built, can be written. Once can write the Parthenon.” - Adolf Loos, 1924, 139 “Architecture does not exist without drawing, in the same way that architeture does not exist without texts.” - Bernard Tschumi, 1980-81, 102 Where drawings pretend to project a reality, language is about keeping reality at bay. It permits signification, it encourages one thing to be ‘seen as’ another, it stimulates a sense of potential ambiguity that lies at the basis of meaning, in a way that drawings can only do prosaically. Language does not deal with directness, it deals with metaphor and ambiguity. There is only one kind of drawing that may be synonymous with language- the sketch.

Here, the process—the realm of the architect—is foremost. It isn’t simply a justification to lead towards a project. It is the project. Apart from the scientific art of construction, my thesis focuses on the expressive art of creation. Apart from closure, my thesis looks for a new beginning.

Keywords

The thesis begins with writing.

Place Transition Time Narrative

A traveler embarks on a journey across a foreign land, only to stumble upon unique places and their subsequently unique architectural responses.

Setting Sequence Tempo Plot Pace

Sequence Episodic Arrangement

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Script

Each short story talks about a place, and a different scale of architecture; about time and pacing, and about transition and sequences.

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Statement

With the act of making, filtered through my two dearest passionsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; WRITING and DRAWINGâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;this thesis explores the creative possibilities that explicate architecture.

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The process (A) and the project (B) A leads to B.

A leads to B. B is A. Reader, before we delve into the thesis exploration, I bring up the idea of the process and the project. We know that the methodology of architecture is unique to us all. The act of designing is a complex process and in a lot of ways it is connected to the journey of its author as they communicate with their hands in intuitive ways, expressing themselves in their design. The entire paradigm

of design thinking and design process makes an architect unite their spirit with the spirit of the problem. There is a general architecture model which is linear. The process and the project exist in a state of dichotomy as A & B where A leads to B and Where A and B are independent of each other.

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Process and Project

“Scarpa worked very uniquely - he didn’t really do final drawings, he just kept scribbling over and over and over again (in that way he was probably quite a pain for builders and contractors) So his drawings are partly a record of his design process and partly a record of what the building actually is. So it’s all about the layerings, and for me these become a work of art in themselves - the colour and the space builds up and up and up. And there are more of them in this book, reproduced in full colour, than I’ve seen anywhere else.” Tom Wright, Phaidon.

If the project (A) is the scientific side of architecture- a mere effect of the expressive art of creation (B)- then this thesis did not want me to build a project. This is because the pretext to the building was not important. A project is not necessary to legitimize the thesis. The process is. Not the act of building, rather the act of making which has to go through the act of writing. I propose that the process is the project. A leads to B. B is A. In my thesis, the process—the realm of the architect—is foremost. Here, the methodology is the product of the thesis. Here, process and project exist in duality.

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......

Act 1

Upon walking miles away from the noise, our visitor who is traveling will not know where this path will take him, for the path seems endless. With each step he would draw his breath a bit slower and pace his stride with more leisure, until after 1 hour and 7 minutes (or 6,700 steps), he would arrive at a meadow which would reach for the horizon; a field blanketed by a blue and cloudless sky which would be as warm as red, and a focused around tree which would drown with every rain: each rain will flood the pond neighboring the tree and its waters would drown the land, rendering the shade under the tree useless. But with each rain there will exist a new ground created by the local fishermen, one above the flooding water, for you see it is them who would enjoy this shade the most to hide from their peers and shut their eyes to catch a quick sleep. Our traveler has reached this place to escape the noise he had left behind and to find solace in this new serenity. Here, he will be invited to step within the tree’s shade; to rest on the same stone steps the local fishermen would lie on; to lean against the same majestic red-wall the local fishermen would lean against. Here he will hear the rustling of leaves above him and see their faint penumbra against the red of the wall behind him. Here he counts the restless waves of the pond as they crash onto the shore. Consequently, two forms of architecture exists in this place: the space of the steps during the summer, and elevated ground in the monsoon. Our visitors, after the 6,700 steps, seek them. They would reach this place only when one of these two architectures are being utilized (either the new ground during flooding season or the steps during the dry-spell.) Only one architecture exists at a time. Perhaps each visitor steps inside a different architecture, and they return from this place knowing not its name but its space.

Now I shall tell you about the fish bazaar beyond the river - a place with great symmetry; the same one the local fisherman pointed out for our guest when he told them he was hungry. The fishermen had built the fish bazaar across the shore, and as the traveler’s eyes followed the fisherman’s calloused fingers, he saw but two markets: one erect above the river and the other reflected upside-down. For his eyes, the two markets were the bazaar within the river: a place from where the fishermen got the fish (to trade with the river in the reflections of the market), and a bazaar of the ground: a place from where the fishermen sold their catch (to trade with a human in the market). The market had a spectacular relationship with the water. For our visitor’s eyes, a painting of red, blue and yellow emerged as the colorful roofs of the bazaar were echoed about the datum of the water. The fishermen tell our visitor that the inhabitants here cherish their relationship with the river. The two activities at both ends of the river, the fishermen’s space in the shade of the Tree and the busy Fish Market, are contingent. Without one, the other perishes. “This fisherman agreed to take me across the river to a new place. This market across the shore, the bazaar, as they say, seems utterly chaotic. A thousand wooden stick-like legs descend into the river, carrying a hundred huts above it. I’m told that each of these holds one fisherman’s family. In between this forest of legs rest embellished fishing boats tied tightly to bamboo ladders that would come down from the huts above. Look up from here and you’ll see these stick-legs reach up to a thick foliage of intersecting huts. You’ll hear the busy murmurs of a successful fish market, with people shouting and negotiating the cost of what may perhaps be a white-bass. You’ll see fishermen taking their catches up the ladder, into their homes. You’ll notice the impermeable smell of freshwater fish and your involuntary impulse of covering up your nose with a handkerchief to escape the overbearing attack on your nose. But, you’ll see that the market works, rather naturally. Fishermen embrace guests, and guests pay gratitude to the fishermen’s family. An adjective comes to mind: systematically chaotic. Finally, I have distanced myself from the river. Personally, I don’t like to be near water. One cannot expect what its treacherous waves are up to at any point, however, the people here seem to be accustomed to it.” Each hut in the bazaar is a home for one fisherman’s family (preferably a family of four), and together the inhabitants have come to an agreement with the community: the fisherman and their family would live and cook fish from within their individual hut to serve meals to their guests. Each family has a hut on one side of the bazaar for catching, cooking and living, and another across this bazaar street where the family would serve the fish to guests who would ask for a meal. This street, perhaps as wide as the length of one boat, divides the bazaar into two: one half for preparation and the other for service. The visitor chooses which half they want to participate in. Each family serves one party at a time. The bazaar honors the river and the relationship between the catching of the fish and the serving of the fish. A space that exists in a symbiotic relationship with the most significant, timeless entity of its place: the river.

........

Act 2

........

Upon walking miles away from the lamenting king and against the river, our visitor gets tired. He follows the river aimlessly for 3 hours and 23 minutes (or 18,000 steps) until he reaches the same tree which had started his journey. However, it had now rained for two nights. The river had risen. The tree had now drowned, and the stone steps were nowhere to be seen. Above the rising river, there was now a new ground, one made by the fishermen: for you see it is them who enjoyed the shade the most to hide from their peers and shut their eye to catch a quick sleep. This new ground was their response to the rain and river and to the drowning of their beloved tree. “The drowned tree still stood proud against the glistening sun. The proud tree still gave shade to the fishermen who rested above the river’s turbulent water. Its roots? Its trunk? All submerged. Only its thick canopy stood above the rising river. Here, there is are children playing and sending off paper boats with drawings and messages to be read by strangers unimaginable. Here, there are mothers collecting the mango fruit off of the tree in clay pots to take back home for their families. Here, there are fishermen resting. I cannot help but be in awe at all these activities above the gurgling and turbulent waves.” This tree is the nucleus of many activities that unfold around it and the architecture here is nothing but a mere incident. It is nothing but a stage that changes to adapt to the circumstance and to host the many activities that revolve around this drowning tree. Our traveler joins the mother and starts collecting mangoes. They talk and share stories while the river rumbles below them.

Our traveler is hungry, again! After a quick 23 minutes, or 1,345 steps, he meets a mother and her child.

“You are welcome to our home. We were about to have lunch.” Grotto Warm sun Cloudless skies Windy room

Lazy grandma Mid-day nap A kind family A grand banquet

Penumbra Some friend calling A game of Mancala Cold walls

Silent skies Dirty dishes A glass of sherbet Warm ambiance

Curtains blowing Noisy neighbors Thick air Nostalgic aura

Sleeping dog School holiday Afternoon bells Empty piazza

Warm light Slothful town Comfort Soul food

Cozy Sleeping child Laziness Afternoon delight

Act 3

Upon walking away from the city, our traveler arrives back to the drowning tree (once again!). Now, however, the rains have stopped and the glistening sun has become brighter than ever. The earth below the the tree has cracked and the river has shrunk to half its size, distancing itself and its fishermen from the cool shade of the tree. Below the tree, the stone steps still exist, but now extend beyond and up to the edges of the shrunk river, and up to the feet of the fishermen who want to rest under the shade of the tree. “The river is quite a distance away form the tree. Fishermen climb a mountain of stone steps to reach it, for they love to rest under its shade. I sit by the steps, watching them carry their catches off of the boat, huffing and panting. They had told him me about this river, how it changed every now and then. Sometimes it would drown the tree, sometimes it would distance itself from it. Each time I have come back to the tree, its situation has changed. The place has evolved, and by the act of building, these people have adapted. How many other transformations could this nameless place go through?What form will my memory will hold of these strange, oscillating events?” The fisherman sitting besides our visitor remarks that sometimes he prays for rain and for tidal waves, and sometimes he wants to see the ground give way. However his need for the tree’s shade persists, and with all these constant changes, he builds to cherish the tree. Our traveler and the local fishermen climb down the stone steps and carry the fish to the tree. There they sit and share packets of biscuits.

While sharing a packet of biscuits with the local fishermen, our traveler is interrupted by the sound of dirt being kicked in the air behind him. He turns around to see a young child walking towards the tree. The child is sobbing. Our visitor walks to comfort him. “What happened?” The child tells our visitor that his parents had passed away recently and that he was not prepared to go to the funeral. Our traveler consoles the child, offering his company to the funeral. They walk towards the cemetery.

The traveler bids farewell.

After a heartful lunch, our traveler walked to digest the many slices of chicken pie he had consumed in the past 3 hours. Before his leave, his host, the mother and the child, had warned him about a path he should not take for it would take him to a place where he would see no humanity. All there would be is a machine that has existed only to wait for its expiry. This place, a city, existed with no belongings, with no hierarchy, with no personality, and with no character. It was a city where everyone wore the same clothes, walked the same routes and worked in the same hours. A city with no children and with nameless roads, where even the institutions and houses wore the same outfit. There was not a single individual, just people. No homes, just houses. No life, just machines. Our visitor heeds by their advice and walks along the promenade of trees without turning left, for the left would have taken him to the city. Like any other human, curiosity got the best of him and he turned left to get just a glimpse of the town.

“Even from this far away I can clearly see the treacherous city. Colorless, plastered with the same finish. No plants, no trees. No children. Lifeless people and their stoic faces. None talk. They don’t even smile. They just work, walk and go back to their houses. I have seen enough.”

1 11

“What is that?” The traveler walked towards the center of this plaza and towards what he thought was a giant wheel. He walks closer only to see the ground before him drop: A dark, endless chasm sits beneath this wheel, and the wheel and its mechanism reach into its darkness with their wires and pipes. Suddenly, he remembered the tale the fishermen had told him about this village. “This pump has existed before the village was ever conceived. Long ago, a tribe of faithless nomads came across this land. They were tired and thirsty, hopeless too until they saw this pump. Overflowed with joy, they settled around it. Although the villagers feared the chasm that ripped open the Earth below the pump, they celebrated the pump itself. They created their home around what they considered as the source of life - a benevolent, inanimate deity. However, one day the pump stopped working. The nomads left, for they didn’t know how machines worked. They felt abandoned, and left, looking for another source and for another event to settle around. Yes, that’s the story the fisherman had mentioned.”

Our traveler has reached this place to escape the noise he had left behind and to find solace in this new serenity. Here, he will be invited to step within the tree’s shade; to rest on the same stone steps the local fishermen would lie on; to lean against the same majestic red-wall the local fishermen would lean against. Here he will hear the rustling of leaves above him and see their faint penumbra against the red of the wall behind him. Here he counts the restless waves of the pond as they crash onto the shore. Consequently, two forms of architecture exists in this place: the space of the steps during the summer, and elevated ground in the monsoon. Our visitors, after the 6,700 steps, seek them. They would reach this place only when one of these two architectures are being utilized (either the new ground during flooding season or the steps during the dry-spell.) Only one architecture exists at a time. Perhaps each visitor steps inside a different architecture, and they return from this place knowing not its name but its space.

He pulls on its rope. Nothing. He tries to turn its wheel. Nothing. The pump was jammed shut. He looks around - a ghost town. He gets on his knee and pulls his sleeves back. Perhaps he can fix it.

I began writing.

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Now our traveler reached this place, o’er the end where the river paced. Witness what he gazes upon:

“ Into a slow and steady march to the sea. The river welcomes ships. Traders and thieves. With foggy mist the sky lay low. Treacherous rocks, enemy ships let go.” Our traveler speaks a tireless yawn. “ Brick and stone. Cliff and rock. Water, sky and ground interlocked. All come together at this gate. A door, a window? To the world alternate. The door that opens for guests and foes, a door which shuts when ships come close. A guard, a soldier, a merchant, a lawyer. This door - a threshold, a foyer. Dedicate this arch to mark our place. O’er the end where the river paced. Dedicate this moment for the King who waits, for his prince who to war did migrate. Who stomps and shouts? King Irate! O’er the end where the river paced.” Now our traveler carries his case, for he has met the river and the sea with grace.

The thesis started with writing a series of short stories as episodes. There are 13 episodes, so far, while the aim is to write perhaps 200. Each episode talks about an unnamed traveler who visits uniquely independent places and witnesses the subsequently unique architecture belonging to these places. The series starts with #1 where the traveler encounters an isolated tree.

35.

.........

4 2 1, 5, 8 Story of the DrowningTree.

Stories 1, 5, 8, 8 talk about a singular event: the Story of the Tree. As the narrative starts with the titular tree (1) and continues on to 2,3 and 4, the traveler arrives back to the tree at 5, at 8 and 11 to witness its place and architecture evolve with each return.

12, 13

1 2 3 4

Act I Bloom

567

8 9 10

Act II Flood

... . . . .

While the story starts with the tree, it progresses onto other places and events like a door, a lunch, a city, a home, a market etc. The traveler frequently comes back to this tree - the point of origin and the point of return.The story of the tree is composed in three acts - Act 1, 2 and 3. Now, in the series of short stories, each return marks

11 12 13

Act II Drought

... . . . .

the beginning of a new act. Episode 1, 2, 3, 4 occur during Act 1. This occurs when the tree and its place is in a state of bloom. 5, 6, 7 occur in the state of flood and 11, 12, 13 occur in the state of drought. Finally, the cycle repeats and the Acts occur again. This is a story about change, place and time.

36.

The Structure of the story

The episodes of the story (1, 2, 3, 4 ... .) occur chronologically. One leads to another as they talk about a traveller going from one event/action to another, only to discover a new place and its subsequently unique architecture. However, their physical location on a ‘map’ is not disclosed.

After a hearty fish-curry, our traveler has now wandered towards the setting sun and under the skies purple skies. Only after he had lost count of his steps (I assume around 1,365), did he stumble upon a village - one which was abandoned, perhaps forgotten; one which was a faithless village that worshiped no temple, and lay in the middle of these hellish, barren lands. Our traveler had walked farther than any other, and at 5.40 pm, he was perhaps the only person there. Out of curiosity, he walks further in. The houses here were painted and fresh, but empty. The village bells still rang with each hour, but for nobody. Animals visited this village but roamed fearlessly in the houses of humans. Our traveler walked further in. Soon, he came across the village’s plaza. Now, you would expect a plaza with a fountain or a park, perhaps a church? “What is that?” The traveler walked towards the center of this plaza and towards what he thought was a giant wheel. He walks closer only to see the ground before him drop: A dark, endless chasm sits beneath this wheel, and the wheel and its mechanism reach into its darkness with their wires and pipes. Suddenly, he remembered the tale the fishermen had told him about this village. “This pump has existed before the village was ever conceived. Long ago, a tribe of faithless nomads came across this land. They were tired and thirsty, hopeless too until they saw this pump. Overflowed with joy, they settled around it. Although the villagers feared the chasm that ripped open the Earth below the pump, they celebrated the pump itself. They created their home around what they considered as the source of life - a benevolent, inanimate deity. However, one day the pump stopped working. The nomads left, for they didn’t know how machines worked. They felt abandoned, and left, looking for another source and for another event to settle around. Yes, that’s the story the fisherman had mentioned.” He pulls on its rope. Nothing. He tries to turn its wheel. Nothing. The pump was jammed shut. He looks around - a ghost town. He gets on his knee and pulls his sleeves back. Perhaps he can fix it.

The structure of the thesis can be understood as: Act II Act III Act I . . ... . . ... Act I 1, 2, 3, 4, (1/5), 6, 7, (1/8), 9, 10, (1/11), 12, 13… Here 1 is the tree, the focal point of return which changes with each visit. Here, 1 is where each act begins. With each episode, there was an opportunity to explore the process of writing and drawing in an independent and unique way. The diagram on the right portrays the individual acts and writings. The circles represent the intensities of each writing- the bigger the circle, the more influence it has had on the thesis. The Newton’s cradle symbolises the perpetual and circular nature of the three acts.

37.

Badland.

I t Ac â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Door .

3 Market,

2 Orchard.

1, 5, 8 Lunch.

12, 13

6 Dead.

7 II Act I

Ac t

Drowning Tree. The

Act II

38.

Act III

III

King

eter y Rail. Cem

t Ac

Pump.

Act I

39.

1. The Drowning Tree. So the story begins with the tree. Our traveler stumbles upon an isolated tree whose only companions are the river and the local fisherman from across the river banks. Here, and for the next few stories, the writing and drawing that created an architecture were considered independently. One was different from the other, hence there was an effort to write and then draw the writing.

40.

Upon walking miles away from the noise, our visitor who is traveling will not know where this path will take him, for the path seems endless. With each step he would draw his breath a bit slower and pace his stride with more leisure, until after 1 hour and 7 minutes (or 6,700 steps), he would arrive at a meadow which would reach for the horizon; a field blanketed by a blue and cloudless sky which would be as warm as the red of a Dahlia flower, and a focused around tree which would drown with every rain: each rain would flood the river which snaked past the tree and its tubulent waters would drown the land, rendering the shade under the tree useless. Today is the month of March. The rain was yet to come and the river was yet to rise. Today is spring. â&#x20AC;&#x153;I have reached this place to escape the noise I had once left behind. Here, I have found this.. tree: a primitive, raw and beautiful being which has stood tall against the glistening sun and against the rumbling winds. It has shaded the moss covered stone steps that reach down to its calm river, and as I sit down on the steps with my fellow fishermen, I look with a sense of wonder at the swaying boats and the treeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s glimmering shadows. Above me I hear the chirping of animals from within its canopy as I count the restless waves as they crash onto the steps and the shore. This place, nameless and unmarked, is full of activity.â&#x20AC;?

The fishermen wake up and greet our visitor. They exchange names and stories.

41.

42.

43.

2. Market. In this exercise, the aim was to incite the mindâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s eye. To imagine, and then portray the imagination onto paper. Although writing and drawing were independent, they invoked a singular architecture.

44.

You’ll notice the impermeable smell of freshwater fish and your involuntary impulse of covering up your nose with a handkerchief to escape the overbearing attack on your nose. But, you’ll see that the market works, rather naturally. Fishermen embrace guests, and guests pay gratitude to the fishermen’s family. An adjective comes to mind: systematically chaotic. Finally, I have distanced myself from the river. Personally, I don’t like to be near water. One cannot expect what its treacherous waves are up to at any point, however, the people here seem to be accustomed to it.”

Each hut in the bazaar is a home for one fisherman’s family (preferably a family of four), and together the inhabitants have come to an agreement with the community: the fisherman and their family would live and cook fish from within their individual hut to serve meals to their guests. Each family has a hut on one side of the bazaar for catching, cooking and living, and another across this bazaar street where the family would serve the fish to guests who would ask for a meal. This street, perhaps as wide as the length of one boat, divides the bazaar into two: one half for preparation and the other for service. The visitor chooses which half they want to participate in. Each family serves one party at a time. The bazaar honors the river and the relationship between the catching of the fish and the serving of the fish. A space that exists in a symbiotic relationship with the most significant, timeless entity of its place: the river.

45.

46.

47.

3. Pump. Now, where does writing succeed and drawing fail? Where drawings pretend to project a reality, the significance and power of writing, be it a poem, a prose, a story, or a simple text lies in abstraction and synthesis. Writing is about keeping reality at bay. It does not deal with directness but with uncertainty and metaphor.

48.

After a hearty fish-curry, our traveler has now wandered towards the setting sun and under the skies purple skies. Only after he had lost count of his steps (I assume around 1,365), did he stumble upon a village - one which was abandoned, perhaps forgotten; one which was a faithless village that worshiped no temple, and lay in the middle of these hellish, barren lands. Our traveler had walked farther than any other, and at 5.40 pm, he was perhaps the only person there. Out of curiosity, he walks further in. The houses here were painted and fresh, but empty. The village bells still rang with each hour, but for nobody. Animals visited this village but roamed fearlessly in the houses of humans. Our traveler walked further in. Soon, he came across the village’s plaza. Now, “What is that?” The traveler walked towards the center of this plaza and towards what he thought was a giant wheel. He walks closer only to see the ground before him drop: A dark, endless chasm sits beneath this wheel, and the wheel and its mechanism reach into its darkness with their wires and pipes. Suddenly, he remembered the tale the fishermen had told him about this village. “This pump has existed before the village was ever conceived. Long ago, a tribe of faithless nomads came across this land. They were tired and thirsty, hopeless too until they saw this pump. Overflowed with joy, they settled around it. Although the villagers feared the chasm that ripped open the Earth below the pump, they celebrated the pump itself. They created their home around what they considered as the source of life - a benevolent, inanimate deity. However, one day the pump stopped working. The nomads left, for they didn’t know how machines worked. They felt abandoned, and left, looking for another

49.

source and for another event to settle around. Yes, that’s the story the fisherman had mentioned.”

He pulls on its rope. Nothing. He tries to turn its wheel. Nothing. The pump was jammed shut. He looks around - a ghost town. He gets on his knee and pulls his sleeves back. Perhaps he can fix it.

50.

51.

4. Kingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Door. Here, a new form of writing was explored- a poem. A poem is a piece of writing that partakes of the nature of both speech and song that is nearly always rhythmical, usually metaphorical, and often exhibits such formal elements as meter, rhyme, and stanzaic structure. What kind of architecture comes from poetry? Is the drawing itself uncertain and suggestive, or is it prosaic and literal?

52.

Now our traveler reached this place, o’er the end where the river paced.

Witness what he gazes upon:

“ Into a slow and steady march to the sea.

The river welcomes ships. Traders and thieves. With foggy mist the sky lay low. Treacherous rocks, enemy ships let go.”

Our traveler speaks a tireless yawn. Brick and stone. Cliff and rock. Water, sky“ and ground interlocked. All come together at this gate. A door, a window? To the world alternate. The door that opens for guests and foes, a door which shuts when ships come close. A guard, a soldier, a merchant, a lawyer. This door - a threshold, a foyer. Dedicate this arch to mark our place. O’er the end where the river paced. Dedicate this moment for the King who will wait, for his prince who to war did migrate. Who stomps and shouts? King Irate! O’er the end where the river paced.”

Now our traveler carries his case, for he has met the river and the sea with grace.

53.

54.

Act II

55.

5. The Drowning Tree. Our traveler is back at the tree again. However, its place and state has evolved. Now, in this new Act, it is the time of the flood. Since both writing and architecture rely heavily on the instrument of time, setting, and plot, the idea of coming back to the tree and writing about its story was an attempt to play with these very concepts.

56.

Upon walking miles away from the lamenting king and against the river, our visitor gets tired. He follows the river aimlessly for 3 hours and 23 minutes (or 18,000 steps) until he reaches the same tree whichhad started his journey. However, it had now rained for two nights. The river had risen. The tree had now drowned, and the stone steps were nowhere to be seen. Above the rising river, there was now a new ground, one made by the fishermen: for you see it is them who enjoyed the shade the most to hide from their peers and shut their eye to catch a quick sleep. This new ground was their response to the rain and river and to the drowning of their beloved tree. â&#x20AC;&#x153;The drowned tree still stood proud against the glistening sun. The proud tree still gave shade to the fishermen who rested above the riverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s turbulent water. Its roots? Its trunk? All submerged. Only its thick canopy stood above the rising river. Here, there is are children playing and sending off paper boats with drawings and messages to be read by strangers unimaginable. Here, there are mothers collecting the mango fruit off of the tree in clay pots to take back home for their families. Here, there are fishermen resting. I cannot help but be in awe at all these activities above the gurgling and turbulent waves.â&#x20AC;? This tree is the nucleus of many activities that unfold around it and the architecture here is nothing but a mere incident. It is nothing but a stage that changes to adapt to the circumstance and to host the many activities that revolve around this drowning tree. Our traveler joins the mother and starts collecting mangoes. They talk and share stories while the river rumbles below them.

57.

58.

59.

6. Lunch. Our traveler stumbles upon an isolated tree whose only companions are the river and the local fisherman from across the river banks. Here, the writing and drawing that created an architecture were considered independently. One was different from the other, hence there was an effort to write and then draw the writing.

60.

Our traveler is hungry, again! After a quick 23 minutes, or 1,345 steps, he meets a mother and her child.

â&#x20AC;&#x153;You are welcome to our home. We were about to have lunch.â&#x20AC;?

Grotto

Lazy grandma

Warm sun

Mid-day nap

Cloudless skies

A kind family

Windy room

A grand banquet

Curtains blowing

Sleeping dog

Noisy neighbors

School holiday

Thick air

Afternoon bells

Nostalgic aura

Empty piazza

Penumbra

Silent skies

Some friend calling

Dirty dishes

A game of Mancala

A glass of sherbet

Cold walls

Warm ambiance

Warm light

Cozy

Slothful town

Sleeping child

Comfort

Laziness

Soul food

Afternoon delight

The traveler bids farewell.

61.

62.

63.

7. Dead. This story critiques a society which is homogenous, uniform and emotionless. It talks about a place devoid of individuality and expression.

64.

After a heartful lunch, our traveler walked to digest the many slices of chicken pie he had consumed in the past 3 hours. Before his leave, his hostthe mother and the child-had warned him about a path he should not should not take for it would take him to a place where he would see no humanity. All there would be is a machine that has existed only to wait for its expiry. This place, a city, existed with no belongings, with no hierarchy, with no personality, and with no character. It was a city where everyone wore the same clothes, walked the same routes and worked in the same hours. A city with no children and with nameless roads, where even the institutions and houses wore the same outfit. There was not a single individual, just people. No homes, just houses. No life, just machines. Our visitor heeds by their advice and walks along the promenade of trees trying not to turn left, for the left would have taken him to the city. Alas, like any one of us human, curiosity gets the best of him and he turns left to get just a glimpse of the town. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Even from this far away I can clearly see the treacherous city. Colorless, plastered with the same finish. No plants, no trees. No children. Lifeless people and their stoic faces. None talk. They donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t even smile. They just work, walk and go back to their houses. I have seen enough.â&#x20AC;?

65.

66.

Act III

67.

8. The Drowning Tree. Drought. Back to the tree again. The story of change continues. As the point of return is always evolving, both the reader and their traveler are in a constant state of flux.

68.

The fisherman sitting besides our visitor remarks that sometimes he prays for rain and for tidal waves, and sometimes he wants to see the ground give way. However his need for the treeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s shade persists, and with all these constant changes, he builds to cherish the tree. Our traveler and the local fishermen climb down the stone steps and carry the fish to the tree. There they sit and share packets of biscuits.

69.

70.

71.

9. Cemetery Rail. The turning point in the thesis was when writing and drawing, became one. This story focused on a dialogue between our traveller and a child before entering a cemetery. While the stories before saw writing and drawing as independent agencies, where a writing would lead to a drawing, here they became one. The drawing is the writing, and the writing is the drawing, and together, they created an architecture that existed as an intervention to the paper. As Forty puts it, there is only one kind of drawing that may be synonymous with the ambiguity and intangible metaphors of language - the sketch. Here, sketching and writing took over. It is this abstraction, this shift and drift away from actuality and analysis, that has captivated me to pursue an architectural expression with writing, and to use it as an agency to create an architecture.

72.

The child tells our visitor that his parents had passed away recently and that he was not prepared to go to the funeral. Our traveler consoles the child, offering his company to the funeral. They walk towards the cemetery.

73.

74.

75.

10. Badland. Story #10 takes the work of another author and interprets it as the drawing. When one reads a book, they enter the authorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s playground and synthesize an alternative world in their mind. Every reader interprets differently, hence this creation is subjective. A singular piece of writing can invoke countless creations and as an architectural methodology, countless architectures. Here, the story of a dark and dry well gave the image of the last civilization before a desert.

76.

Excerpt taken from ‘The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle’, a novel by Haruki Murakami. 1994.

77.

78.

Act I

79.

11. The Drowning Tree.

Story 1 is the same as story 11. Hence, 1/11. Again, Act 1 begins.

80.

Upon walking miles away from the noise, our visitor who is traveling will not know where this path will take him, for the path seems endless. With each step he would draw his breath a bit slower and pace his stride with more leisure, until after 1 hour and 7 minutes (or 6,700 steps), he would arrive at a meadow which would reach for the horizon; a field blanketed by a blue and cloudless sky which would be as warm as the red of a Dahlia flower, and a focused around tree which would drown with every rain: each rain would flood the river which snaked past the tree and its tubulent waters would drown the land, rendering the shade under the tree useless. Today is the month of March. The rain was yet to come and the river was yet to rise. Today is spring. â&#x20AC;&#x153;I have reached this place to escape the noise I had once left behind. Here, I have found this.. tree: a primitive, raw and beautiful being which has stood tall against the glistening sun and against the rumbling winds. It has shaded the moss covered stone steps that reach down to its calm river, and as I sit down on the steps with my fellow fishermen, I look with a sense of wonder at the swaying boats and the treeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s glimmering shadows. Above me I hear the chirping of animals from within its canopy as I count the restless waves as they crash onto the steps and the shore. This place, nameless and unmarked, is full of activity.â&#x20AC;?

The fishermen wake up and greet our visitor. They exchange names and stories.

81.

82.

83.

12. Orchard. By story 12, the act of writing and drawing drifted towards being singular. The ambiguity of the sketch came to the foreground as the preciseness and directness of the drafted drawing was left behind.

84.

Now I shall tell you the tale of a strange land with constructed nature: a place where trees march in rows like silent soldier both left and right. Within this organized jungle there is a construction of man which stands and dances in freedom. It is ever changing. This simple, boundless ‘room’ protects and exposes. Its walls open more than they close. Its floor of cold stone and warm grass beg to be walked upon, and its pleasant air carries the smell of the jungle within. This room stands with no border. It is translucent. Strange, this free construction of man within a systematically grown nature. Our traveler is welcomed by the old keeper of this orchard. ` “Tell me old man.. Where am I?” “You stand where I had once embraced the desire to feel connected, to feel the rhythm, to fathom the power and to not lose my divinity. Here, I watch the weather change. You are at my home.”

85.

86.

87.

The story of The Drowning Tree Story 1, 5, 8, and 1/11- the points of return and the distinct thresholds between each actintroduce us to the Drowning Tree. Now, the architecture of this place is questioned. Inspired by story 9 where the act of drawing and of writing became one, the following section of the thesis merged the two passions as one to explore the process of creating architecture.

88.

1, 5, 8 . . . The Tree: Our point of return The tree, its river and the fishermen. The titular tree is an isolated tree, by a lone river. Its only companion- the local fishermen from across the river who relish its shade and fruit. They sit under the tree when they tire from their duties. Both enjoy each otherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s company. Our visitor arrives at this tree, for he is tired of walking, and he too relishes it. While he embarks on many journeys across the river with the fishermen, time passes. The tree and its place evolve. Upon his many frequent returns to the tree, our visitor witnesses many forms of the place and the emergence of a new architecture with each change. â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;The Drowning Treeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; is a story about change, evolution, death, rebirth, and time.

89.

90.

......

Act 1

........

Act 2

........

Our traveler is hungry, again! After a quick 23 minutes, or 1,345 steps, he meets a mother and her child.

“You are welcome to our home. We were about to have lunch.” Grotto Warm sun Cloudless skies Windy room

Lazy grandma Mid-day nap A kind family A grand banquet

Penumbra Some friend calling A game of Mancala Cold walls

Silent skies Dirty dishes A glass of sherbet Warm ambiance

Curtains blowing Noisy neighbors Thick air Nostalgic aura

Sleeping dog School holiday Afternoon bells Empty piazza

Warm light Slothful town Comfort Soul food

Cozy Sleeping child Laziness Afternoon delight

Act 3

The traveler bids farewell.

1 11

The focus of the thesis now is on the stories and architecture belongong to the primary episodes of 1, 5, 8 and 1/11.

He pulls on its rope. Nothing. He tries to turn its wheel. Nothing. The pump was jammed shut. He looks around - a ghost town. He gets on his knee and pulls his sleeves back. Perhaps he can fix it.

4 1

Now our traveler reached this place, o’er the end where the river paced. Witness what he gazes upon:

91.

.........

4 2 1, 5, 8 Story of the DrowningTree.

12, 13

1 2 3 4

567

8 9 10 1 12 13

Story 1, 5, 8 have now been developed individually and an architecture has been invoked from and for each respective Act. The subsequent architecture of each act is unique and independent, arising as a response to the event of the Act.

92.

Over time, with the changes and resulting emergence of a new architecture with each Act (Act I, Act II and Act III) the place, the tree, the river and the local fishermen are in a constant state of flux. This is an architecture which lives and breathes. It grows, and dies.

Newtonsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; cradle, a device for perpetual and cyclical motion, as a metaphor for the three acts.

93.

Act I Flood Story 5 Act II Bloom Story 1, 11

Act II Bloom Story 1, 11

The 3 acts

The dance of eternity. The story of the tree is composed of three acts. Each return to the tree establishes a new act and raises the curtain to reveal a new architectural character - the protagonist of the act.

Act III Drought Story 8 Act I Flood Story 5

The story of the tree is cyclical and perpetual. It is in a constant state of flux. Each act sees the appearance of a new architectural character.

Act I Flood Story 5

I, II, III, I, II . . . .. n Fergusonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s device to produce perpetual motion. Like the device, the story of the tree is cyclical. It is a perfect sphere. Here the story ends where it began.

Act III Drought Story 8 Act II Bloom Story 1, 11

94.

The plot+setting

48”

The Characters

48”

24” 24”

95.

24”

I realised that through the process of working in large scale formats, the writing and drawing became one. Hence, for the story of the tree, I chose to work on multiple 2ftx4ft boards. There has been no intention to stop producing these boards, as the series of panels could potentially go on forever. But with each board, thoughts develop. Ideas are refined and new considerations are put into play. The drawings on the boards are non-directional, i.e, one can see them both in landscape and portrait format, and with each orientation, read the drawing differently. These drawings are scribbles with layers atop each other, color blocks, diagrams, stories and scripts, notes, spaces and sketches.

The drawings are partly a record of the design process and partly a record of what the architecture actually is.

The boards can be read in both vertical and horizontal directions.

The 6 Boards

The layout of each board. 1-8 shows the general order in which each board was completed.

96.

97.

Board 1 The Tree, the River and the Fishermen

98.

99.

100.

There is a verticality to this place. The event of the rising and receeding river are indeed vertical as well. Does the architec respond with this verticality? Does it synchronize with th changes? The rising river and the absent architecture. During the month of the flood, the situation of the tree changes and a new architecture emerges.

The emergence of an architecture by the hands of the local fishermen as a means to keep up with their everchanging place. It is merely a stage from where they watch the weather, the place and time change.

For such a place - one - can there be an archit of episodes? Will walls elements for such an ar

101.

The opening to the river and the introduction to the tree. The architectural entity(ies?), what so ever they might be, needs to introduce the fishermen to their tree - a source for shade and fruit. It needs to introduce them to the river - a source for their food and living.

d the cture hese

in a constant state of flux tectural entity that is made and stairs be the leading rchitecture?

102.

103.

104.

105.

106.

107.

108.

109.

110.

111.

112.

Board 1 focused on the tree, its fishermen and their boat, the mutualistic relationship inbetween them and the architectural ideas that are invoked from their story throughout Act I, Act II and Act III. Here, I realised I need to focus on the interaction of the architecture with the rising and receding river, the wilting and blooming tree, the tired and sweaty fishermen and their many colorful boats. I need to think about an architecture that responds to to its changing and evolving situation. Where in the previous exercises writing and drawing were separate agencies in the architectural process, here they have become symbiotic. Here, they exist in duality.

113.

114.

115.

Board 2 The Boat, the water and land.

116.

117.

118.

The cyclical nature of the thre The three acts, along with perpetual. The story ends whe

Questions: 1. How and what are the transitions between the episodes? 2. What is human and geological time in these acts? 3. Water cycles? 4. Human scale and response to human time? 5. Scale of the boat? 6. Walls and steps as the back beat to the musical score composed of Act I, II and III. How do they carry the music forwards? How do they become the foundation for this score?

The complete story of the Drowning Tree - Act I, II and III. There needs to be an episodic, sequential architecture that carries the fishermen through Act I, II and III. For such an architecture to exist, it needs to comply with the changes of the 3 acts.

The 3 acts of the story and the rising and receeding river. With each act, the river evolves. Thus, the tree and its place change. The needs of the local fishermen change and the architectural built by their hand changes.

119.

ee acts. their respective changes, are cyclical and here it begins. The dance of eternity.

A cave is needed for Act III. A solace from the summer sun, from the dusty winds and from the cracked, dry earth. The architectural entity for Act III shall be derived from these needs.

An opening gesture to the river. A place to watch the boats. A point where the shadow glimmers on the river. A place which leads somewhere, but by itself is enough.

120.

121.

122.

123.

124.

125.

126.

127.

128.

129.

130.

Board 2 focused on the boat and its transition from the varying levels of the water onto the land. The overarching story of the tree over the three Acts was written and drawn, and architectural ideas were refined and honed. The act of flood, bloom and drought are the major events in the story, hence, an idea for a three-part, scattered architecture was conceived â&#x20AC;&#x201D; one whose independent parts emerged only during their respective acts. Here, the idea of an architecture of need was developed.

131.

132.

133.

Board 3 The episodes and pacing.

134.

135.

136.

A study to understand the inverse relaationship between the sequencing and pacing from one architectural character to another.

An idea for many characters for the many acts. Can each of these characters be personifed? Can there be dialogue? Interaction? Fights and quarrels? Can these architectural characters be essentially human?

A vocabulary was developed for a diagram which would represent the sequence and episodes within the architecture as well as the transitions in between these episodes. This is a spatial diagram, one used to study the relationships between the many episodes. Here too, the transitional elements are vertical walls and steps.

Iterations of the spatial sequence diagrams. Compression and release Intros and crescendos. Critical points and transitions.

137.

Breaking down the understanding of sequential episodes into a spatial narrative. In plan, Stairs and Walls were leading elements from one space to another.

The many possible characters of the 3 acts. Protagonists that carry the story forwards. Companions to the drowning tree. They NEED to be personified.

The arrangement of spaces. Like music, there needs to be ups and down, points of crescendos and crisis, spaces of resolution and convolutions. From one architectural entity to another, there needs to be a journey. The diagram represents the series of spaces.

The drowned architectural character. At the time of flood, the architectural character of Drought vanishes. At the same time, the character of Bloom emerges.

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Board 3 questioned many ideas. Can the 3 architectures parts of the 3 acts be personified as the protagonists? Can these characters emerge and disappear? After their Act is over, do they die? How does one pace when one reads a book, or listens to music? Does the transition inbetween my characters have a tempo? Are there crescendos and crises? Can they be friends, or are they foes? Do they converse? Answering and playing with such questions led me to develop three architectural characters- the New Ground, the Doorway and the Stepped Plaza of Act I, II and III respectively.

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Architecture Characters? A character is a person, animal, being, creature, or thing in a story. One uses characters to perform the actions and speak dialogue, moving the story along a plot line. Most stories have multiple characters interacting, with one of them as the antagonist, causing a conflict for the protagonist.

In the story of The Drowning Tree, the Tree is our protagonist. The fishermen, our deuteragonist. The traveler, our narrator. The three Acts, our plot line. The three Architectures of each Act, our lead characters. Throughout the three Acts and the changes to the setting, the role of the secondary character is simple and straightforward:

To introduce our deuteragonist to our protagonist. Here, the narrator is the witness. Reader, now that we have investigated the Plot line and the setting, with the following boards we shall talk about the three Architecture characters of this story.

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Board 4 Act I : Flood Character: New Ground

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Act I

Story 5 - Flood

Our visitor arrives at the new ground by boat, and climbs up. Below: the hurling waters of the flooding river. Above: the tumbling clouds that are ready to precipitate at any moment. Here, on this ground, he is sheltered and in peace.

During the flood, a new ground emerges. One which preserves the shade of the tree. One which lays above the rumbling river.

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The New Ground - a character which stands against the roaring waters and is a platform to watch the weather change.

Water so warm that day. We count out the waves as they break onto the wall.

The drowned tree has been rendered useless and `The New Ground is an attempt to foster its space and shade. It is a response to the continuously evolving story of the tree and is a character that emerges due to need. It connects the fishermen to their precious tree.

The boats are tied to said wall. Now that the rain has stopped, they sway gently. Here, upon this new ground, we watch the tree and the weather change.

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The character of this Actâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;The New Groundâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;witnesses the event of the Flood. For the fishermen and the visitor it shows the virtue of service, and for the tree it offers companionship. For the fishermen, it preserves their precious space in the shade of the tree. For the tree, it enables the prolongation of the many activities that happen around it. In this Act, the river rises. The New Ground emerges to introduce the fishermen to their beloved tree. The board was first written upon, however here the drawing took precedence over writing. The writing was scribbled and drawn over and has now been hidden behind the drawings.

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Board 5 Act II : Bloom Its character: The Doorway

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Act II

Story 1, 11 - Bloom “Here, meet the drowning tree. You have come at the right time.” Everyone exchanges names.

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This is the gateway to reach the shade of the tree. It is, if anything, a good neighbor. It sits quietly on the still water and welcomes one to the lush land. As a doorway, it is the architectural entity that introduces the fishermen to their precious tree in Act II, and is the point of transition from floating boats to stable land.

The never-ending cycle of the three acts renders this tree and its place in a constant state of flux. Flood, bloom, and drought. Flood, bloom, and drought. Flood, bloom .... The dance of eternity. The drawing is that of a Newtonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Cradle - a model for energy and momentum. The metaphor allows one to see the three acts, and how the growth of the tree and the architecture is dependent on constant movement between these three acts.

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The Doorway emerges during the Act of Bloom. Here, the water is still, the ground is lush, the sun is warm, and the air is chilly. The doorway is the transitory element from the river onto the land. It lies both on water and on earth. It both welcomes and bids farewell. It is the friendly neighbor. As a board, the panel showcases drawings and sketches protruding and peircing through the text. Ideas and sketches project out of the their respective texts and onto the paper.

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Board 6 Act 3 : Drought Its character: The Stepped Plaza

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Act III Story 8 - Drought The arrival of a long summer, a drying river, and a tree which gives no shade. In this month of June the riverâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ebbing water recedes to successfully distance itself from the tree, which itself remains lifeless while the ground around it cracks open. There is neither shade nor fruit, and the fishermen miss their place under the tree. The summer reveals a new character- The Stepped Plaza.

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A plaza emerges after the river retreats away from the tree. It opens up to the river, welcoming the tired and sweaty fishermen onto land. They seek salvage from the bitter summer sun and refuge from dusty and dry wind. The plaza offers them rest and peace. It leads them to their precious tree, that is if they want to go to it; as of now they have retired within the shades of this plaza and have dozed off. Because of our character, the summer is bearable.

The evolving setting, or stage. The unveiling of new characters and the cycle of three acts. Synthesis of the story reveals a scattered architectural entity - one whose parts exist independently and only during their respective acts. During the acts, each entity comes forth to introduce to fishermen to their tree and then disappears once the place evolves. This is an architecture which is stuck in a constant cycle of death and rebirth. It is an architecture that lives and breathes. An architecture which is absent, yet present.

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The final board of the series talks about the character that emerges at the time of drought. As the river retreats, a stepped plaza emerges from its shallow banks to bridge the gap in between the tree and the fishermen who have now been distanced by the receding river. During the drought, this architecture emerges due to need. Like the previous board, this board saw ideas and sketches projecting out of their respective texts and onto the paper.

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I realised through the process of working in large scale formats, that the writing and drawing became one, where as in the exercise before, they were independent. In the panels, sometimes, one took precedence over another, but in the end, it was both these agencies that revealed upon synthesis a scattered architectural entity - one whose parts exist independently and only during their respective acts. During the acts, each entity comes forth to introduce to fishermen to their tree and then disappears once the place evolves. This is an architecture which is stuck in a constant cycle of death and rebirth. It is an architecture that lives and breathes.

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Witness what he gazes upon:

Now our traveler reached this place, o’er the end where the river paced.

Grotto Warm sun

Lazy grandma Mid-day nap

Penumbra Some friend calling

Silent skies Dirty dishes

Our traveler is hungry, again! After a quick 23 minutes, or 1,345 steps, he meets a mother and her child. “You are welcome to our home. We were about to have lunch.”

This tree is the nucleus of many activities that unfold around it and the architecture here is nothing but a mere incident. It is nothing but a stage that changes to adapt to the circumstance and to host the many activities that revolve around this drowning tree. Our traveler joins the mother and starts collecting mangoes. They talk and share stories while the river rumbles below them.

“The drowned tree still stood proud against the glistening sun. The proud tree still gave shade to the fishermen who rested above the river’s turbulent water. Its roots? Its trunk? All submerged. Only its thick canopy stood above the rising river. Here, there is are children playing and sending off paper boats with drawings and messages to be read by strangers unimaginable. Here, there are mothers collecting the mango fruit off of the tree in clay pots to take back home for their families. Here, there are fishermen resting. I cannot help but be in awe at all these activities above the gurgling and turbulent waves.”

Now our traveler carries his case, for he has met the river and the sea with grace.

Dedicate this arch to mark our place. O’er the end where the river paced. Dedicate this moment for the King who waits, for his prince who to war did migrate. Who stomps and shouts? King Irate! O’er the end where the river paced.”

The door that opens for guests and foes, a door which shuts when ships come close. A guard, a soldier, a merchant, a lawyer. This door - a threshold, a foyer.

“ Brick and stone. Cliff and rock. Water, sky and ground interlocked. All come together at this gate. A door, a window? To the world alternate.

Our traveler speaks a tireless yawn.

“ Into a slow and steady march to the sea. The river welcomes ships. Traders and thieves. With foggy mist the sky lay low. Treacherous rocks, enemy ships let go.”

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He pulls on its rope. Nothing. He tries to turn its wheel. Nothing. The pump was jammed shut. He looks around - a ghost town. He gets on his knee and pulls his sleeves back. Perhaps he can fix it.

“This pump has existed before the village was ever conceived. Long ago, a tribe of faithless nomads came across this land. They were tired and thirsty, hopeless too until they saw this pump. Overflowed with joy, they settled around it. Although the villagers feared the chasm that ripped open the Earth below the pump, they celebrated the pump itself. They created their home around what they considered as the source of life - a benevolent, inanimate deity. However, one day the pump stopped working. The nomads left, for they didn’t know how machines worked. They felt abandoned, and left, looking for another source and for another event to settle around. Yes, that’s the story the fisherman had mentioned.”

The traveler walked towards the center of this plaza and towards what he thought was a giant wheel. He walks closer only to see the ground before him drop: A dark, endless chasm sits beneath this wheel, and the wheel and its mechanism reach into its darkness with their wires and pipes. Suddenly, he remembered the tale the fishermen had told him about this village.

“What is that?”

“This fisherman agreed to take me across the river to a new place. This market across the shore, the bazaar, as they say, seems utterly chaotic. A thousand wooden stick-like legs descend into the river, carrying a hundred huts above it. I’m told that each of these holds one fisherman’s family. In between this forest of legs rest embellished fishing boats tied tightly to bamboo ladders that would come down from the huts above. Look up from here and you’ll see these stick-legs reach up to a thick foliage of intersecting huts. You’ll hear the busy murmurs of a successful fish market, with people shouting and negotiating the cost of what may perhaps be a white-bass. You’ll see fishermen taking their catches up the ladder, into their homes. You’ll notice the impermeable smell of freshwater fish and your involuntary impulse of covering up your nose with a handkerchief to escape the overbearing attack on your nose. But, you’ll see that the market works, rather naturally. Fishermen embrace guests, and guests pay gratitude to the fishermen’s family. An adjective comes to mind: systematically chaotic. Finally, I have distanced myself from the river. Personally, I don’t like to be near water. One cannot expect what its treacherous waves are up to at any point, however, the people here seem to be accustomed to it.”

Consequently, two forms of architecture exists in this place: the space of the steps during the summer, and elevated ground in the monsoon. Our visitors, after the 6,700 steps, seek them. They would reach this place only when one of these two architectures are being utilized (either the new ground during flooding season or the steps during the dry-spell.) Only one architecture exists at a time. Perhaps each visitor steps inside a different architecture, and they return from this place knowing not its name but its space.

Thus, the art of construction is merely an auxiliary art which, in our opinion, could appropriately be called the scientific side of architecture.” Etienne-Louis Boullee, ‘Essay on the Art of Architecture’. If the project (A) is the scientific side of architecture- a mere effect of the expressive art of creation (B)- then this thesis did not want me to build a project. A project is not necessary to legitimize the thesis. The process is. Not the act of building, rather the act of making.

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This thesis places an archipelago full of 13 islands, each of which represents one story. Hence, ‘Placing an Archipelago’.

13 Stories.

Sleeping dog School holiday Afternoon bells Empty piazza

Curtains blowing Noisy neighbors Thick air Nostalgic aura

Warm light Slothful town Comfort Soul food

A game of Mancala Cold walls Cozy Sleeping child Laziness Afternoon delight

A glass of sherbet Warm ambiance

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“What happened?”

The fisherman sitting besides our visitor remarks that sometimes he prays for rain and for tidal waves, and sometimes he wants to see the ground give way. However his need for the tree’s shade persists, and with all these constant changes, he builds to cherish the tree. Our traveler and the local fishermen climb down the stone steps and carry the fish to the tree. There they sit and share packets of biscuits.

“The river is quite a distance away form the tree. Fishermen climb a mountain of stone steps to reach it, for they love to rest under its shade. I sit by the steps, watching them carry their catches off of the boat, huffing and panting. They had told him me about this river, how it changed every now and then. Sometimes it would drown the tree, sometimes it would distance itself from it. Each time I have come back to the tree, its situation has changed. The place has evolved, and by the act of building, these people have adapted. How many other transformations could this nameless place go through?What form will my memory will hold of these strange, oscillating events?”

The traveler bids farewell.

A kind family A grand banquet

Cloudless skies Windy room

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Next? Tom Wright, from Phaidon, mentions Scarpa and his process, saying that he didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t really do final drawings, and that his drawings were a record of partly the process and partly of what the architecture actually is. For Scarpa, the process - which is the realm of the architect and the story behind any architecture- was foremost. Here too, the process is prime. This thesis intends to rewire my approach towards design and has done so by working on a process enforced by the act writing and drawing as the foremost factors. These two forms of expression of any idea can invoke an architecture that is breathing, that is alive and is a part of a story- any story. By writing stories one can imagine the architecture as characters, with reason, with dialogue, with interactions, with setting, with time and with a plot. One can think of architecture in a different way where it is not only a stage for life to happen, but also a character who takes part in life. Where this thesis is aimed to find a process, this process can become a methodology and be adopted for any project. Perhaps, a shed. Perhaps, a home or maybe even a water temple. For the thesis, this may be the next step, and for my career, this may be the first.

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Questions? Why no site? The aim of this thesis was to find a process, and doing so by writing, which is essentially saying, that it is doing so by enticing the imagination. This thesis was an exploration around this suggestibility that happens with drawing and writing. A SITE WAS NOT chosen because with a site there come the concerns of the vernacular and existing, of the culture of the place, of the socio-economic factors of the place and other things. But, a fictitious site was chosen where laws of nature still applied: seasons changed, time passed, materials rusted, and droughts and floods occured. And since my thesis was based upon the act of writing, it felt that it was correct to write about the site rather than choose one. What have you learnt? By writing stories one can imagine the architecture as characters with reason, with dialogue, with interactions, with setting, time and with a plot. One can think of architecture in a different way where it is not only a stage for life to happen, but also a character who takes part in life. I have learnt that as an architect, I can implement this process elsewhere and perhaps create something that is true to myself. What is the process? The process is using the act of writing to imagine, and then create. By act of writing, I mean writing fiction where there are characters, there is a setting, a plot, time, crescendos, anticlmaxâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s etc., and then introducing an architectural lens to it. This of course has to be expressed in some way and that is where architecture drawings come in. Now what? Maybe to continue making the panels and working on the story with the characters, personifying them and introducing dialogue, actions, interactions etc. Or maybe practicing this process on any place/site in real time. At this point, I think, either the essence of the thesis, the ideas and thoughts, can be developed more. Or it can be implemented for real-life problems and concerns.

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Talk about the panels. Well first of all these drawings are non-directional. By this I mean that I had drafted them horizontally, but introduced writing and drawing that was both vertically and horizontally orientated. In my head the thoughts and ideas were all over the place, hence they come out in such a way on the paper. I think of these drawings as somewhat of a collage of many, many ideas and thoughts, all stitched together as an intervention to the paper itself. As for Board 1, it was the first drawing of the series and perhaps it was the one with the most intensity. This may be because I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know at the time where this would lead. Here, writing and drawing were unified. What that means is that I was writing the stories and ideas, and then projecting them as drawings, then writing, then drawing. So in these boards, there is this very strong to-and-fro relationship where one idea is expressed both with the act of writing and with the act of drawing. I would write about the flood, about how it would affect the tree and the fishermen, about the activities that would result due to the flood, and then I would draw. So the drawings here show what the text says, and the text says what the drawing shows. The drawing here is the process. It is all my thoughts and ideas captured and stitched together. Where in this board everything is messy and quite frankly all over the place, soon the boards get purpose.

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Later on in the panels, each board is associated with a specific character and shows everything I have thought about for the particular character.

What I like the most about these boards are: 1. There is a certain inherent suggestibility in these panels. The drawings donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t show the whole architecture, or even a whole thought. It is momentary, in patches, scattered and sporadic. It is suggestive of an architecture, but it doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t tell you what it exactly is. It lets you perceive, project and realise. And number 2. 2. Is that these drawings are both a record of the process and a record of what the architecture actually is, and because of that, there is intensity and energy in these drawings. There is an intent behind every stroke because every line is meant to lead somewhere, hence, these drawings become a repository of my thoughts and ideas, expressed with writing and drawing. As for the order of the text, you will see that they are both vertically and horizontally oriented. This was a part of a system put in place by me, where whatever was horizontally was a part of the narrative, and whatever was written vertically was a note, or question for me to consider. This way I could easily differentiate between one and another and quickly make sense of what was in front of me.

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A leads to B. B is A.

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Thank you.

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B.Arch Thesis 2020

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B.Arch Thesis 2020