B 53/04
Colofon
Bnieuws Volume 53 Issue 04 January 2019
WELCOME 02
#Bnieuwd
04
Writing on the Wall
08
Inscribing Spaces
Editorial Team Aimee Baars Christopher Clarkson Jan Pruszyński Nicole van Roij Federico Ruiz Chun Kit 'CK' Wong
11
Leave your mark locker
12
Thank you for smoking
14
A Decade of Bnieuws
Contributors Krittika Agarwal Tipp Bongers Ieva Davulyte Dorsa Ghaemi Arvid de Haan Dirk Hoogeveen Paul Vermeulen
18
Misleading Memories
22
Tracing Archaeology
24
Hybrid Timber Construction
26
Traces of War
28
Living Dead
30
Artefact: Paul Vermeulen
32
Streets of BK City: Student Spolia
Contact Room BG.Midden.140 Julianalaan 134 2628 BL Delft bnieuws-bk@tudelft.nl
Editorial Advisors Javier Arpa Fernandez Lotte Dijkstra Cover Editorial Team Printed by Druk. Tan Heck 1,250 copies © All rights reserved. Although all content is treated with great care, errors may occur.
Editorial
TRACES New Year's resolutions are often made to start the year afresh, imagining a 'better me' and leaving past fears, mistakes and embarrassing moments behind. However, to our disappointment, no 1st of January, no 'it's a new day tomorrow', can ever fully wipe out vivid, sometimes haunting, flashbacks and memories. They live within us, both the good and the bad and carry them around everywhere we go. Our previous actions don't only affect us, but leave traces in others, both people and spaces. As we are progressing towards a more digitally based and controlled society, traces have become less analogue and tangible. Every day, our physical movements on the earth are transferred up high, into the clouds. However, at some point, these big data are unravelled by algorithms and, through layers and layers of infrastructure, find their way back to the world in the form of pouring asphalt to relieve congestion, planting trees to increase neighborhood liveability or genetically modified fields of produce. Digital traces once again become material, the cycle is complete. Thus, landscapes are in fact layers of traces, offering an infinite source of knowledge and inspiration. This issue starts off with an intruiging local landscape close to home, the 'wall of fame' on the first floor of BK City. A true detective, Federico retraced its origin and symbolism in his article 'Writing on the Wall'. Head over to pages 4-8 to gain some clarity. Furthermore, within the editorial team we have been questing traces of our own. In our article 'A Decade of Bnieuws' (pages 14-18) Aimee has chronicled the past decade of Bnieuws publications. This has turned out to be as much constructive as inspirational, since we have re-introduced the "Streets of BK City", presenting opinions, thoughts and activities from students and staff in BK. You can find this month Streets of BK City on page 32: "Which object represents spolia for you?" Spolia, another word associative to traces, which can be described as leftovers or 'spoils' of a building. The aging of buildings becomes visible through chronological inscriptions; the overlay of material traces etched by use, weather conditions, vandalism, even by war. In his article 'Traces of War' (pages 26-27) Jan discusses the roses of Sarajevo: red-resin filled craters from mortar damage which have become silent and small memorial sites of their own. In many ways material traces are imprints of the past, of memories, which through interpretation take on symbolic meaning, more than merely an ink stain on the cover of a magazine. We wish you a memorable 2020, The Bnieuws Editorial Team
#Bnieuwd inside BK
To do / SEMINAR SPATIAL PERSPECTIVES In 2018 Frits Palmboom published his book IJsselmeer, A Spatial Perspective, as final chapter of his professorship at the Van Eesteren Chair. The Seminar Spatial Perspectives views the questions raised in the book from a design perspective: How do we think as designers; how do we mentally and physically relate to the space around us (the concrete space of city and landscape), how do we ‘read’ and understand it, navigate in it - with lectures from Barbara Tversky on spatial thinking and drawing, Kelly Shannon on delta and metropolitan areas and Dirk Sijmons on ecology and landscape architecture. 7.02.2020, 10.00-17.00 Apply via the link on the profile of Bnieuws Instagram page Location: Berlagezaal, Bouwkunde Faculty
02
To do / BERLAGE EXHIBITION The Berlage School organizes an exhibition to present all the final projects; it is a chance to get introduced to the post-master program. The exhibition, and related week of lectures and presentations, aim to foster a space of interaction in which thought-provoking projects completed during the fall 2019 term serve as a starting point for a conversation between staff and students, invited guests and cross-disciplinary experts. 27.01.2020 - 13.02.2020 Location: BK Expo, Bouwkunde Faculty
To do / BOIJMANS A NEW CHAPTER Third year Bachelor Bouwkunde students at TU Delft have been working on the project 'Boijmans at the neighbors' and 'Boijmans in the classroom'. This project consists of design solutions for the upcoming 7 years of Rotterdam based museum Boijmans that has shut its doors due to renovation. As a final chapter of this project, a selection of designs will be exhibited in the BK Expo space. 24.01.2020-13.02.2020 Location: BK Expo, Bouwkunde Faculty
#Bnieuwd outside BK
To do / OBJECT FAIR ROTTERDAM The deisgn fair Object returns to Rotterdam for the third year in a row. Inspiration from 150 designers to inspire lovers of architecture, art, interior and fashion. The location is in the well-known industrial HAKA-building in Rotterdam. After this event the building will be transformed by the Dudok Group. Thus a last chance to visit this piece of architecture. All the presentations are specifically selected and curated, with special attention for inventiveness in material and colour. 07.02.2020-09.02-2020, 11.00-19.00 Location: HAKA-building, Vierhavensstraat 38-42, Rotterdam Entrance fee: 12,50 www.objectrotterdam.com
To do / LECTURE & DEBATE MOMOJO KAIJIMA Momoyo is co-founder of the Tokyo-based design firm Atelier Bow-wow, which she established in 1993 together with Yoshiharu Tsukmoto. Their work includes buildings, research and art practice. Starting by documenting the unique urban reality of Tokyo, Atelier Bow-wow produced a number of publications that took the form of guidebooks, introducing the reader to the accidental, ad-hoc nature of the urban landscape. For example, Pet Architecture documented tiny buildings that fill the cracks of the city and are always customised by the user. 28.02.2020, 18.00 Location: Independent School for the City, Delftsestraat 33, Rotterdam Entrance fee: 5 euro
To do / EXHIBITION DAVID UMEMOTO, ARCHITECT OF THE IMPOSSIBLE The exhibition features highlights by the world-famous printmaker M.C. Escher alongside sculptures by David Umemoto. David Umemoto (Hamilton, Canada, 1975) balances on the line between sculpture and architecture. Canadian Umemoto is originally an architect, but has started focusing increasingly on sculpture. In his rigid concrete statues of buildings, he pushes the envelope of perfection in both disciplines: stairs lead nowhere and walls stop in the wrong place. 14.11.2019-09.02.2020 Location: Escher Museum, Lange Voorhout 74, The Hague www.escherinhetpaleis.nl
03
04
Speak
WRITING ON THE WALL Words and image Federico Ruiz
For over a decade, the “Wall of Names” was one of the many celebratory monuments of BK. Furthermore, it represented, by action or omission, what our faculty accepted to be the paradigms of relevance, achievement and success in architecture. Now that it is gone, understanding this wall and its background might open a window for questioning the way in which we created a monument that was supposed to represent an international and diverse community and ended up normalising gender inequality and colonialism.
Łukasz, from Poland, patiently paints the wall with his roller. Underneath, almost invisible, are the last remaining traces of the many names of architects that used to be written on the wall with gray letters. “People pass by every half an hour and ask why I’m doing this, or if the names will come back. I tell them that I don’t know, [that] they just told me to paint it white. Actually, this is not white, but off-white”, he clarifies, standing on his scissor lift. Back in 2008, Łukasz worked on the renovation of BK: “Few weeks after [the fire], we started working on this building: it was summer, and it had to be done in October. We were outside, on the scaffold, for [painting] the windows: they were different colours, but then they changed all windows to just grey. We had around 17 different colours, it was a bit like rainbow”, he says, “I think it was [during] this time that this wall was painted. They put the names after that”. As a living bearer of changes, Łukasz has worked replacing what the fire took away, painting rainbows that somebody shaded later and now he erases a constellation of names that used to mean something to somebody. But what did they mean, exactly? And for whom? “In 2019 there is no sense in having Brunelleschi on a wall. The bachelor students don’t even know who Brunelleschi is”, energetically says a Landscape student who passes by the wall, “People they keep quoting on lectures aren’t there either”. She is also adamant about the lack of women and architects from the Global South: “They should balance it”. Apparently, this discontent is not new: rumours say that in the past some teachers and students tried to add their names or the ones of their retiring colleagues to the wall, either out of indignation or for fun. They also say it didn’t take long before the maintenance staff erased the apocryphal additions and restored things back to its original state. Before leaving, the student also tells that she heard of new names being printed in the model hall. After a few inquiries, it turns out to be just another rumour. A look back to the names on the Wall puts in evidence a lack of balance. Out of 377 names, architects from the Netherlands accounted for 44% of the total, followed by the
05
UK (11%) and USA (8%), France (6%) and Germany (5%); the rest of countries had less than a 5% participation, with 12 of them only having one architect on the wall. In total, only 29 countries were represented: 18 European, 4 Asian, 3 North American, 3 South American, 1 form Oceania and none from Africa. In terms of gender representation, 352 (94%) were men and only 18 (5%) women: of the latest, 13 were Dutch and only two (Zaha Hadid and Ray Eames) were born outside Europe. Yet, the greatest unbalance was the one between the Global North and South, with 96% and 2%, respectively. Nevertheless, an intention to create a certain equality in the selection and display of names seems to have existed. Highly well-known architects such as Brunelleschi, Borromini, Viollet-Le-Duc, Le Corbusier or Dick van Gameren were put next to lesser known names as Mart van Schijndel, Tjakko Hazewinkel or Burle Marx. Moreover, all names had different dimensions and positions, none of which seemed to correspond to its degree of notoriety. Yet, a feeling of unquietness remains: how could a Faculty that prides itself in being inclusive and diverse come out with such a monument to White European Men? And how did it survive for a decade without changes?
06
Until the removal, the official position of the Faculty toward the wall seems to have been of implicit acceptance and little criticism, displaying it in institutional videos and publications. The only official document that explicitly mentions it and tries to explain its intention is a 2018 brochure of the Faculty that confusedly states the following: “The Wall of Names contains hundreds of national and international architects and urban designers (what determined size, location and height, will remain a secret)”. Astonished by the vagueness of this answer, we searched for the heads behind the wall. "It was subjective. I think that is, maybe, the secret about it. We worked on it and we had 3 or 4 sizes of text. It should have a certain mysteriousness to it: some architects’ names are bigger, and some are small. Why? We never intended to give the answer; it was more about raising the question” says Diederik Fokkema partner architect at Fokkema & Partners, the office in charge of the Faculty’s interior design in 2008. When asked about the process and intentions behind the wall, he starts by recalling how, back in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s, “the idea about the Faculty of architecture was the one of an egalitarian kind of university. So everyone is the same, is treated the same, gets the same education and is treated equally. In those years you were not looking for stardom.” Then, when the new millennium brought the starchitect paradigm with it “most students wanted to become Rem Koolhaas, that was their ambition. And I think that, as a kind of joke, this came up: not the Wall of Fame, because that would have been too simple, but the Wall of Names.” At that point, he and his colleagues at the office made the first draft of the list of names and sent it for approval to the dean at the time, Wytze Patijn. While hospitalized, Patijn made suggestions and added some names together with some of his collaborators. For him, the intention of the wall was different: “The most important thing was to show that there were different currents in the architecture. Different styles and inspiration. […] And in second place, I like to emphasize that the
Faculty of Architecture was a design faculty, and not only about processing or technical methods”. The later was of special importance, for there “was always kind of resistance against the identity of the Faculty as a design school, especially by the non-designers”. Additionally, when confronted to the numbers mentioned above, the former dean limits himself to say that “I discussed, in the hospital […] the idea to have more architects from other countries outside Europe. And it was too difficult, at that moment, to give names for it. So it would be a very good idea to add [them] now”. “To be very honest, I think that the selection of those names also reflected the narrow mindedness of the Faculty as a whole, and society at that point. I mean, it was not challenging the bigger social questions of that level”, says Fokkema when asked about the contradiction between the alleged egalitarian principles and the lack of balance in the selection of the names, “We were amid the discussions of architects as star architects, and who they were. It was more that question”. At this point, the reasons for scraping-off the names and the future of the wall are, perhaps, the only issues that remain obscure. Sitting in his meeting room with ten empty chairs and a map of Rome by Piranesi behind him, Dick van Gameren, Dean of the Faculty, sheds some light on them. The wall will be used for “exhibition of student work […] and also to show more of the collections that are still present in the library, of maps and prints that nobody knows”, together with “some space to show a bit more about our faculty, its history. Many students don’t know about what happened in the last 130 years”. On the reasons for erasing it, he explains that, “I never found [anybody] to say ‘wow, this is really great, this wall’ so I thought ‘okay, we can do something else with that’. Of course, we could also have said ‘ok, we keep the wall, we change it, add names’ or whatever, but that is always a difficult discussion”. “I regret it […] The history is very important, and also the architects. Every architect stays on the shoulders of older architects”, replies Patijn when hearing about these plans. Fokkema coincides with him for different reasons: “[It] is so temporary. Next month there’s another exhibition, and another one later. And, of course, you can say that is also food for thought, but it doesn’t reflect the essence of the library. That’s my opinion” he says “It should be more provoking than it was at the time” he complements. * Is erasing the best way to deal with our past? By doing it, the Wall story became just another anecdote and the hard questions were avoided. We can all sleep peacefully by thinking that its unrepresentative nature was Fokkema’s and Patijn’s fault, accusing them of not paying enough attention to social issues and fights for equality. However, and despite some isolated actions of protest, if that monument was there for so long it was thanks to the complicity of most of us, and the ones who were part of the Faculty for the last decade. Then, things might become troubling: perhaps we privileged comfort and order over the important discussions that might have disrupted our smooth and creative environment of BK. Could it be that, deep down inside, we normalized inequality while hiding behind the rhetoric of diversity? If you, just as I used to, still think that the Wall of Names was just another normal monument, the answer is yes. B
07
Explore
INSCRIBING SPACES Words 'CK' Wong
Image references ISSUU Bnieuws
Land sculpture has arguably existed for thousands of years, in which case studies such as Nazca lines (see photo) and Indian burial mounds were identified as one. These ancient augmentations of the land surface could be ceremonial, or symbolic in nature. Nevertheless, these sculptures exhibited spatial qualities inherent in architecture and landscape design, and inform us about the increasingly ambiguous distinction between them.
08
Contemporary land sculptors like Richard Long and Michael Heizer, whose notable works included similar inscription of the land (see a Line made by Walking by Long, and Double Negative by Heizer), had shown us various artwork through sometimes dramatic gestures in scale, which is effectively spatial design.
voids on faces of stones, or within the earth enclosure formed with the very mud displaced from under their feet. Various aboriginal vernacular housing types have shown us the inherent link between construction methods, with the material extracted from the environment in its proximity.
In many discourses today, especially in the realm of “sustainable passive design”, the integration of landscape features was deemed functional and supplementary, as in some cases, “biophilic”. The limited understanding of landscape as simply “greening”, or providing the premise of bringing nature closer to home, somewhat dilutes the potential of landscape design within the architectural practice. In the Five points of Architecture, Le Corbusier introduced the concept of a roof garden, as a physical replacement of the land the building has displaced. His proposal reveals the inherent relationship of spatial design with the environment, attempting to even account for a fragment of ecology displaced (vegetation in this case), which is different from viewing the architecture as an isolated object in the environment. In essence, architecture is the environment.
The premise of spatial design is built upon the fact that the environment is organized and altered to accommodate programmes, regardless of functions, and this could be accomplished without “architecture”. The land sculpture mentioned above by Michael Heizer, appropriately titled Double Negative (see photo), explores the notion of manmade and nature. A 15metre deep ditch was excavated on a site located on Moapa Valley, Nevada, which extended across the natural curvature of the cliff, to form a linear incision in the landscape. The first negative (man-made ditch), was superimposed on the second negative (the natural void of the valley), resulting in the juxtaposition of space in the two realms. It also brings us to the point that spatiality is the common denominator in the entirety of these discussions, and there is much to share when it comes to how these spaces are manipulated and ordered.
This is not a farfetched argument. Humankind and its predecessors were known to inhabit crevices and
There are various contemporaries displaying attempts in disintegrating the boundaries of
09
Top: Nazca lines, Gary Yim/Shutterstock.com Bottom: Double Negative by Michael Heizer in Moapa Valley, Nevada, USA
landscape and architecture, from ecological interventions, to landscape urbanist intervention, but I would like to bring to attention the work of Madeline Gins and Shusaku Arakawa. The Site of Reversible Destiny (see photo), constructed in Yoro, Japan, is an experience park intended for visitors to “rethink their physical and spiritual orientation to the world”. Brushing aside its “cultish” impetus, the park is designed with elements that are disorientating and almost psychedelic, and one could argue that it is not architecture due to its lack of function. The rolling hills within the park mimics the surrounding mountain ranges of Yoro mountains, and almost suggesting nothing was done in the designing of the site. The denial of architecture and landscape in such a designed space, playfully toys with the discourse of the vagueness of the two fields.
Such attempts has also delivered interesting outcomes. In designing a non-architectural space, Gins and Arakawa created spaces of deep human experiences, and in designing a non-landscape space, they created one which resonates harmoniously with the surrounding. Putting the bewildering attempt to distinguish each of these fields aside, the works of various land sculptors has shown us various examples in describing spaces and in the designing of it. Similarly, the respective fields of architecture and landscape design share equal fervour in the designing of spaces. If we were to put aside specialisation and vocations aside, we have got a lot to learn collectively.
Site of Reversible Destiny by Madeline Gins and Shusaku Arakawa in Yoro, Japan. Photo by ARAKAWA+GINS 10
Obsess/Inspire
LEAVE YOUR MARK LOCKER Images Editorial Team
11
Speak
THANK YOU FOR SMOKING Words and image Christopher Clarkson
A month ago, our beautiful building started becoming defaced with some slightly less beautiful TU Delft blue ‘no smoking signs’. Alas … they haven’t appeared to be as effective as whoever is responsible probably would have liked. The next move in this one-sided game of chess was to relocate the smoking pit at the East entrance, from under the sheltered entrance to out in the open between Bouwpub and the faculty building.
I can hear them thinking ‘Surely! Surely now that we’ve put the disposal point out in the cold wind with all the rain, surely now the smokers will go and smoke out there in the cold rain and wind! Genius!’
12
Alas… Smokers are creatures of habit. Furthermore – I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to light a cigarette out in the wind and the rain but it’s actually really quite difficult, not to mention the fact that you’re cold, and wet, and now so is your cigarette – what a drag. So, the smokers remain at the entrance to smoke, and although a few environmentally conscious of them do walk down the stairs (after finishing their cig) into the rain to dispose of their cigarette butts, many do not. A kind of protest, a longing for what once was perhaps, the trace of ash and the act of defiance takes the form of small little piles of orange cylinders on the floor in memoriam of the pit that used to be there. ‘Hmmm… it seems that the smokers don’t get it. How strange. Maybe they didn’t see the first sign? Maybe they didn’t notice we moved the disposal pits…. I know! Let’s put up another sign! But this time, it’ll be the first thing you see after you come out of the building! Brilliant! No one will miss it, everyone will come out into the bracing winter air for their nicotine hit trying to escape some waste-
your-time lecture, and they’ll say, ‘oh, oh damn! I can’t smoke here; I’ll have to go down the stairs!’’ Alas… two signs aren’t enough it would appear. Sounds like the beginning of a joke no? “How many no smoking signs does it take to make a smoker not smoke?” Apparently, the answer is at least more than two. I must say, although these signs are largely terrible; ugly, and pretty much the sole cause for a bunch of litter at every entrance door, they do provide something pretty neat: an adrenaline rush for the smoker breaking the rules. That’s like taking two drugs at the same time. Awesome! On a more serious note however, one could expect a more elegant solution to the problem from the 3rd best architecture faculty in the world. Much like the idea of a door handle with the word ‘push’ above it, no one ever really reads the word until they’ve already tried to pull it. The way to fix this problem is to remove the handle, removing even the possibility of pulling the door. In the case of the smokers, why not create a small pavilion or some sort of sheltered space between the bouwpub and faculty, as well as at the main entrance courtyard? People don’t smoke there because they want to make life miserable for
the non-smokers entering the building, or because they’re inherently anti-establishment people, but because it’s convenient and comfortable! So give them something convenient and comfortable somewhere else and they’ll probably go and smoke there instead. This could even be a design contest between the students. Why not? It will be much more interesting and accomplish much more good than putting a third ugly blue sign at the entrances to faculty.
13
Learn
A DECADE OF BNIEUWS Words Aimee Baars
Images Bnieuws
As we have entered 2020, a new decade - in response to all the 'then versus now' instagram posts - the moment for us too has come to reflect on the past 10 years of this magazine. As editors, our team must not only take reflect on chosen themes and the quality of content, in wider perspective, we must also reflect on the format we choose to publish these in. This article takes us back in time chronicling the attempts of previous editorial teams in defining the identity and role of Bnieuws magazine within our faculty.
14
Our ambition to represent all the voices within BK faculty; our slogan clearly states "your voice is ours". However, achieving this can be challenging at times. In the digitized world, in which news and opinions travel rapidly and dispersed, the information we are exposed to has become fragmented and fleeting. Thus, among all the online platforms, our hard copy Bnieuws publication might seem outdated. However, if you close your eyes for a sec, instead of hearing your overheated laptop buzz or your phone beep, listen to the crinkly sound and textured feel of freshly printed paper, waiting to be read. The Bnieuws team believes there is quality to the tactility of paper that gives us a greater connection with texts. There is a sense of completeness in the information we get when reading a print media, as compared to the digital platform: merely taking a couple of minutes of your day to step away from the ever-present technology radius, concentrating on holding the magazine in your hands, the tactile engagement of flipping through, back and forth, forth and back. We believe these are necessary in-between moments to refrain from RSI wrists, square eyes and heart palpations ;) And so, we will lovingly so stick to our hard copy publications - this calendar year at least. However, in taking this analogue path we are challenged in reaching our audiences, in reaching the future-oriented, 2020-you! In the past months, we have observed that we have yet to fully extend our reach to "all voices" in our faculty. Hence, the editorial team has been in process of reshaping Bnieuws, asking ourselves the following questions: "In which article formats do we best represent the faculty as a whole?", and in regard to the promotion and dissemination of the magazine, "Which communication channels can we use to increase our readership?" We took these questions as an opportunity to turn the Bnieuws archive upside down and dig up old issues from the years 2010-2020. This article presents the development Bnieuws Magazine has gone through, both content and format wise. Progressing and improving Bnieuws means engagement with you, our readership. Thus, our 2020 resolution is to strengthen the relation to the faculty and its daily dwellers. Join us on the journey!
June 2011 'BK in depth' headlines on the reformed bachelor
March 2014 monthly question in 'streets of BKCity'
February 2012 monthly cartoon
June 2011 submitted letter
March 2013 Archiprix selection March 2012 BK organization chart cover
March 2015 long term column writer Robert Nottrot
May 2014 debate call
April 2015 new dean, new format
May 2014 monthly agenda
May 2016 'Gender' issue
December 2015 satirical drawing by The Grey Egg
March 2015 goodbye old format
June 2019 the notorious Toilet Watch issue
February 2017 50 year issue February 2018 publication of personal stories
November 2016 Archiprix Special
Bnieuws 2020 instagram engagement
April 2016 'Identity' issue
October 2017 hidden BK spots
Explore
MISLEADING MEMORIES Words Ieva Davulyte
Image references ISSUU Bnieuws
Nietzsche (1876) states: “I believe, indeed, that we are all suffering from a consuming fever of history and ought at least to recognize that we are suffering from it”. In the case of Lithuania, the years 1944-1991 consisted of a period of destructive occupation; the Church was suppressed, the intelligentsia was harassed and obstructed and massive deportations were carried out to eliminate any resistance to collectivization or support of partisans. However, the evolution of thought still continued and so did the evolution of the built environment. The question is: what symbolic values should be considered while reimagining the architecture of occupation?
18
The role of intangibles in architecture Architecture plays a communicative role by expressing its symbolic values through choices in colours, sizes, materials, and forms. In order to explore the role of symbolic qualities in architecture, it is essential to first define what these roles can be and how they act. For example in public institutions, such as banks, values of trust, reliability, and security are expressed through the use of grandiose spaces and marble, which provide a feeling that this institution is going to last. This is also evident in the case of schools, hospitals, and so on and so forth. However, the communicative effects of buildings can also be manipulative and, accordingly, they do not always express their true meaning. Therefore, designers tend to manipulate the symbolic values for their own purposes. This is especially relevant when talking about architecture in the Stalinist era. Architecture, that was made to symbolise the superlative, incomparable and absolute totality which consequently had evolved into the supressed individual freedom. As Shah and Kesan (2007) mention, there are three potential ways in which architecture can regulate: architecture may be
partial and treat certain social values less or more favourably; architecture plays a communicative role by declaring symbolic or cultural meanings; and architecture can affect people’s interaction. It becomes clear as a result, that in the context of authoritarianism, architecture can gain a malicious intent. Re-imagining architecture of occupation from harmful memory For historical continuation to not become a reason for preserving all Soviet buildings, analysis of aesthetic development of thought has to be done. Looking at the Soviet periodization in Lithuania through the architectural prism, there appear three major aesthetic tendencies (Petrulis, 2006): social realism, industrial Soviet modernism, and diverse manifestations of stylistic searches. Let’s begin with social realist architecture which is associated with the period of Stalinism (1945-1956). The profound feature of the social realist architecture is the belief that through the use of classical compositional elements an architecture can be filled with a political undercurrent. In figure 1, we
can see how this type of architecture is all about architectural representation, while the representational value is totally dependent on the simplest, consumer-friendly beauty standards. In other words, the period of social realist architecture was like creating a dictionary for the language of classicism, which would be comprehensible for a fisherman, miner, and a farmer. This type of architecture is valuable, because of its distinctive interpretation of classical forms resulting as a rich socialist and folk décor (Petrulis, 2006). Social realist architecture evolved to become industrial Soviet modernism, when in 1955, the government made a resolution to condem any decoration in architecture. This resolution was meant to urgently and by the cheapest means possible rationalise the architectural environment. Buildings were being transformed into massive objects with a utilitarian style as can be seen in figure 2. Industrial Soviet modernism is valuable as a distinctive variation of international modernism and also as a slight architectural revolution at the time (Petrulis, 2006). The following stylistic evolution is related to the occupation period of 1965-1991. This architectural shift is full of ethnic, mythological and symbolic themes. Figure 3 depicts the summer library in the resort Palanga, where the applied motif of waves creates a symbolic contextuality and the use of wood décor fragments refers to the tangible trend of regionalism. This particular type of architecture has to be appreciated not only for its emphasis on original form and diversity, but mostly as a historical path of the search for contextuality and Lithuanian architectural spirit (Petrulis, 2006). We have to admit that not all Soviet architectural heritage must be protected. Even if, while looking at the stylistic approaches of the Soviet era, the architectural diversity is noticeable, the inventive stylistic solutions make up only a small part of the
infrastructure. These particular objects have to be protected as they reflect the most important aspect of the culture of architecture – the evolution of thought. However, industrial soviet modernist architecture is intriguing only in its earliest years, as later built industrial blocks constructed by the same rational engineering principles, lose their architectural value of novelty. Formation of new symbolic qualities under Soviet regime Ideology is not only found in linguistic form, but it also occurs in material structures. The Soviet party believed architecture to be transformative and able to mould the new socialist way of life (Humphrey, 2005). The link between Soviet ideology and infrastructure here turns out to be clearly evident. Soviet planners were occupied in attempting to transform the meanings of daily life objects into new guided contents. At first, it is important to discuss the early period of the Soviet regime in Lithuania under the rule of Joseph Stalin. In this period, the architecture representing the ideology of socialism began to emerge in the larger cities of Lithuania. In Stalinist culture, buildings assumed enormous importance to support the utopian prospects of living in communism, a so-called “perfect society”. The architecture in the Stalin period is fully perceivable only in its ideological context. This caused architects to produce nearly identical buildings. Every construction was representing the Stalinist ideology and was independent from its external function and geographical position (Dobrenko & Naiman, 2003). These findings accord with our earlier stylistic observations on Social realist architecture as it can be perfectly applied to realise utopian political intentions. In the Stalinist era, every building symbolized the superlative, incomparable and absolute totality, which has evolved into the suppressed individual freedom. Furthermore, one of the main aims of Soviet authorities at the time, was to transform cities into
19
20
centres embodying Soviet ideology (Mikailienė, 2010). A good illustration of such progressive architecture is shown in figure 4. The Lazdynai district was developed in the 1960’s and early 1970’s. When analysing its infrastructure more deeply, the same style of monolithic repetition combined with the abundance of public green is apparent. This forms the opposition to the idea of individual “quarters”, which tend to present class and cast prejudices. In other words, in the period of Sovietization buildings and infrastructure continued to symbolize the total power of the Soviet state, but also embraced equality, internationalism, and peaceful coexistence (Shlapentokh, 1984). Before concluding, let’s remind ourselves that Pre-Soviet local Lithuanian architecture features Scandinavian tradition of private wooden houses with sloping roofs as a protection against local climate. The vernacular Lithuanian builders tend to construct clusters of houses that orient towards the sun, defend from the wind, hug the land and embrace handcrafted ornaments of natural motifs. These findings raise intriguing questions regarding the noticeable change of symbolic qualities in the architecture of Lithuania: a change from local to geographically independent, and at the same time from personally independent to the constrained.
A dialogue with a painful past The Soviet architecture forms a great part of the architectural history of Lithuania, as the biggest portion of architecture created in the twentieth century was from Soviet times. However, most architectural examinations in Lithuania so far were focused on the classical history without touching on the twentieth century. Jencks (1985) claims that the evolution of architectural meanings is dependent not only on forms, but also on our perception of them. This means that if this perception changes in society, then the meaning of the architecture changes as well. During the change of political systems, the disharmony created in the social environment led to a disharmony in the spatial environment. I think the problematic attitude towards Soviet architecture can be inspected using two interrelated contextual problems.
Fig. 1 Rail Station Vilnius, Lithuania, Social Realism
Fig. 2 KTU Faculty of Chemical Technology, Industrial Soviet Modernism
Firstly, the approach towards the protection of modern architecture is complicated by the lack of time distance (Savatova, 2009). The case of too little time separating the social rhetoric and aesthetic attitudes of the past century from the present, tend to cause, a now predominant, “fetish of the past”. According to heritage protection specialists, everything that has been created in ages seventeen to nineteen comes valuable with no exception. The unwillingness to show any interest in Soviet architecture is related to the illusion that, since we
have survived the Soviet era, we know everything about it and thus, we are able to assess it. This widespread rejection of the Soviet era in history leads to despise or even deliberate destruction of its tangible architectural legacy. Secondly, it is necessary to consider the lack of psychological distance. Here, it is important to understand that the communicational function of architecture is not an autonomous system, rather it is an interactive discourse (Lynch, 1960). It functions only during active intercourse with a man, who is always a part of a certain cultural background. Being politically foreign is the biggest problem, which prevents Soviet architectural objects from becoming a part of Lithuanian heritage. In postcommunist countries, the architecture of modernism is usually associated with the period of occupation, with the socialist regime and the harmful historic past, which has become a part of “traumatic memory” of the nation (Čepaitienė, 2005). However, one must realise that the aim to preserve a form is not meant to save Soviet ideology at the same time.
hostile approach towards the architectural heritage of the Soviet period. Nevertheless, the architectural diversity that mirrors the path of architectural thought in Lithuania is worth being protected. Moreover, intolerance and destruction of recent objects of historical heritage would remove the period of almost fifty years from public memory. This would directly cause the generation that grew up at that time to lose all its place-related memories. Thus, the challenge remains to overcome a postSoviet situation, where a rapid change in sociocultural conditions leads to a profound gap in social actuality, isolating society from the architecture of the second half of the twentieth century. In this challenge, I believe the process of considering Soviet architectural heritage should be less about decisive preservation and more about analysing all its multilayer architectural meaning.
Ieva Davulyte is a second year bachelor student at BK. She wrote this piece originally for the course Academische Vaardigheden 1 and edited it for publication in Bnieuws.
Soviet architecture has had a strong symbolic meaning during Lithuania’s occupation and it still does today. Due to a sharp historical departure from local vernacular architecture, resulting in the intangibles left in Soviet architecture, there is a
You can contact her via i.davulyte@student.tudelft.nl
Fig. 3 Summer library, Palanga, Lithuania. Regionalist Architecture
Fig. 4 Lazdynai District in Vilnius, Lithuania
21
Explore
TRACING ARCHAEOLOGY Words Nicole van Roij
During the Christmas Holidays, I was trying my best to avoid watching dull family movies on the couch. The ones I dislike most are adventure movies with heroic protagonists, like in Indiana Jones and The Mummy. What triggers me most in these movies is the representation of the archaeologist as a handsome, tombdiscovering acrobat. In these movies, the archaeologist is combatting and unveiling the traces of the past, reading landscape, object and architecture like a true detective. As designers of the built environment, our interest similarly lies in the reading of traces, albeit, gratefully not receiving the status of a pop-culture hero in doing so.
22
From these pop-culture sensations, I wonder: Are researchers and designers of the built environment just as advanced and fearless in interpreting traces as archaeologists? In every-day life, the profession of the archaeologist is most likely not as adventurous as we see in popular culture. According to the dictionary, archaeology is the study of physical remains of human cultures. This includes the studying of linguistic codes, artefacts ranging from cutleries to stone columns and landscapes shaped by industries. The most obvious distinction between archaeology and architecture is arguably that archaeologists focus on the past, while architecture has a tendency to focus on the present and future. A similarity might be that both fields seek for relations between materials, artefacts and cultures. Also, in both fields, the interpretation of these relations has changed in the past century. Until the beginning of the 20th century, archaeology has mostly been about collecting, classifying and studying artefacts in relation to cultures. The
collecting of artefacts thrived with the development of great museum collections and world expositions. Here, artefacts could be seen as material traces which narrated human culture and ethnographical pasts. After the 1920s, the focus on the artefact as inertly dead matter changed and was replaced by, what is called in archaeology, functionalist theories. In these theories, all social and cultural phenomena are seen as functional in the sense that they work for the needs of society. Social relations become more important than things, and artefacts become plain reflections of what was deemed fundamental: social relations. Artefacts were seen as tools, extensions of the body. After the 1960s, structuralist and symbolic anthropology shifted the view on artefacts from ‘good to use’ objects to, reciting the words of Lévi-Strauss, ‘goods to think with’. The symbolic meaning, performances, ritual and exchanges are a part of the culture of the object. Understanding them, to the point that materiality becomes an integral dimension of culture. In other words, artefacts and physical traces are not only objects of a culture or tradition, but part of a larger structure of
thinking. For instance, traces in archaeological landscapes can be reread as material constructions of messages about power or gender, not only about one culture but also about inter-cultural relations between groups of people (Tilley, 1991). Broadly speaking, this change in thinking about object-culture relations can also be found in architectural theory and practice. Another thing we might have in common is our problem-solving ability. Architects and designers are trained to be creative and critical thinkers. We try to realise ideas that can have helpful influences, not only on the built environment, but on society in general. Therefore, it is interesting to try to not only look at traces as physical remains found on a project site but as things that are still active in society. An interesting example of combining the interpretations in a design is the recently built residential tower Stone Garden in Beirut, designed by the Beirut-born Lina Ghotmeh. The philosophy behind her office is defined as “Archaeology of the Future, where every new gesture is drawn from the traces of the past”. In the design of the residential tower, local re-used concrete and local earthmixtures are used for the façade of the building. The textures on the skin of the building are built up out of a layer of earth and bonding material and are scaffolded in situ on the concrete-base. Therefore, the pattern is always slightly different. The irregular openings in the facade remind of the bullet holes which can be found on walls throughout the city of Beirut. Here, architecture is not limited to imitating local building techniques, it also responds to the immaterial traces present in a city. In most of the options of interpretation, the traditional archaeological method of collecting and studying traces is practised, the traces of making spaces and material details are closely studied. Even though there is a lot of value in these ways of
interpreting traces, I believe we are still not as culturally aware as archaeologists of the multidisciplinary values, traditions and inter-cultural relations that are embodied by traces. Perhaps, this has to do with the fact that we are not educated enough about cultures and humans in general. Maybe, the bachelor spends its time too much on disciplinary architectural practices. Perhaps, we simply don’t have time to consider every little on-site trace we find. Perhaps, we do research on all of these facets but lose them in the design. Or perhaps, we don’t want to be like archaeologists because we just don't like Indiana Jones. So no, probably the built environment has not received the right to be portrayed as adventurous in reading traces as archaeologists. But bold the built environment can certainly be! Obtaining knowledge about fields such as ethnography, human behavior studies and cultural geography could strengthen the interpretation of traces. Not only analysing them to understand historic-facts or to use them for ‘identity-inspiration’, but as seeing them as artefacts or ideas that transform and embody cultural relations and values.
23
24
Krittika graduated from the Master of building technology, Architectural Engineering and was pre-selected for the Archiprix 2020. In collaboration with student association BouT and their publication RuMoer, Bnieuws has re-edited and printed Krittika's article. You can contact Krittika via krittikaag@gmail.com
Learn
HYBRID TIMBER CONSTRUCTION Words and image Krittika Agarwal
January 2016, the seismic tremor made the porcelain statue tremble on the floor. As I ran down the stairs to help my grandparents, shivers ran down my back. Sadly, the worst was yet to come... Being born in the eastern end of the Himalayan seismic belt, my personal experiences have been the driving force of this research. Traces of the events that I have witnessed in the Indian city Shillong, have created an urgency to meet more rational living standards. In this article, I discuss my graduation project and how it reacts to this urgency by local traces of timber construction.
Following the global trend of using reinforced concrete and steel as main building materials, Shillong is getting transformed into a ‘concrete jungle’. While the city shares the history of earthquakes, the quality and planning of the built fabric still demand very high attention. The region is full of problems which are widely spoken of, yet the lack of initiation of scientific research in the field is impairing local technological growth. The ‘Assam earthquake in 1897’ was one of the most devastating events in the Himalayan Frontal arc and a turning point in the construction history of the region. Following this, the expertise of light-weighted timber construction was borrowed from Japan and introduced as a substitute for the heavy traditional stone houses. This new seismic responsive construction technique called ‘Assam-type construction’ was developed using local timber, bamboo reeds, and lime plaster. Also, the building industry is responsible for huge environmental impact due to carbon emissions coming from the production of common materials like steel and concrete, pollution during building construction and the energy consumed during the life of the building. The urgency of the global climate change crisis has forced us to question the fundamentals of our building materials. The
historical success story in timber construction and abundant local availability creates hope for the region, giving us a strong base to re-investigate. Perhaps timber, being one of the oldest and most natural building materials, would have a more positive environmental impact than highly energyintensive materials. The contextual study of resource availability, innovations in contemporary timber buildings, literature research on timber strucutres and seismic design form the scientific basis of conceptualization of this research. Upon retrofitting and reimagining, this historical construction technology has been transformed into a 6 storey tall timber structure, using locally available natural timber, which slips into the existing requirements of present-day habitants of urban Shillong. The scientific solution is directed by the iterative laboratory tests, structural calculations and computational simulations tailored to accommodate the seismic problem and the current regional technological advancements. To conclude, the design logic of the proposed technology is encoded in a digital tool that could be used by the local designers for immediate implementation at an early design phase. The final output aims to go as local and ecological as possible. B
25
26
Image from: https://d2d45aw5ucb5xn.cloudfront.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Sarajevo-Rose.jpg
Explore
TRACES OF WAR Words Jan Pruszyński
Image Liz Herrin
For a large majority of the student body of TU Delft, the four-year-long siege of Sarajevo (1992-1996), is a thing they might have learned from history books. However, for the inhabitants of Sarajevo, the small red-raisin-filled craters from mortar damage are a daily reminder of their tragic past and what became the longest siege of a city in the history of modern warfare.
On the 6th of April 1992, Bosnia and Herzegovina received international recognition as an independent state after declaring independence from the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. On that very same day the first bombs fell on Sarajevo, the new nation's capital. The Siege of Sarajevo lasted 1425 days with approximately 329 shell impacts per day. When bombs fell on the city and collided with asphalt, they left unique floral-patterned craters on the streets. Hundreds of them were filled with red resin to commemorate places where three or more people died in mortar fire. These became known as Sarajevo Roses. Now, over two decades since the war ended, only about two dozen remain. Together with the city being rebuilt and streets repaved they started disappearing, like wounds that just needed time to heal. There seem to be two opposing views on the subject. Some want the roses to completely disappear - these are over the war and want to forget. Others wonder if the Roses disappearing is really a sign of a city healing itself, or perhaps a city forgetting about the war altogether? Apart from the outskirts of the city, where many façades still remain bullet-riddled with holes and a mass hillside graveyard, not many physical traces of war remain. Apart from countless war memorials.
These, however, tend to show a very selective version of Sarajevo's history, based on sides of the conflict and ethnicity. This rhetoric extends the conflict from over 20 years ago to the present and maintains the collective ethnic trauma. This is troubling, especially considering that the country is still largely divided with only a very small number of mixed marriages and children often going to different schools based on their ethnicity. Unlike many official war memorials, which did not resist appropriation by one of the sides of the conflict, Sarajevo Roses stayed open to interpretation - they are just silent places of memory, that remind of the war consequences, the blood and innocent lives lost. Everyone is free to construct their own narrative and therefore they allow many different versions of history to co-exist, opening a possibility for reconciliation. By saying nothing the Roses equalise all human beings in death, no matter the ethnicity. Youth Initiative for Human Rights Bosnia and Herzegovina (YIHR) have been repainting the Sarajevo Roses every year since 2010 - the main purpose is to never forget the tragic past. We have to remember, because what will happen if we forget?
Have you seen Sarajevo Roses? Do you know of other similar war monuments? Share your photo via instagram @bnieuws.
27
Obsess/Inspire
THE LIVING DEAD Words and image Tipp Bongers, Arvid de Haan & Dirk Hoogeveen
An organic structure formed by the residue of students working with chemicals. Traces
found in the BK paint booth. The chemical reef
laying there motionless alive. A transformation with every layer
accumulating mass.
Artefact
HET ROLTAFELTJE Words and image Paul Vermeulen
'Artefact' is a recurring two-page spread, which features a beloved object presented by one of the BK City staff members. Every month, the author passes on the 'Artefact'contributorship to the next. Last month's contributor Nathalie de Vries chose Paul Vermeulen, who is a professor in the department of Architecture and leads Belgium based architecture office de Smet Vermeulen.
Dit roltafeltje nam ik mee uit mijn ouderlijk huis, toen mijn ouders verhuisden naar een service-flat. Ik zag het staan in mijn vaders bureau, voor glazen binnendeuren die zelden opengingen. De combinatie van elegantie en degelijkheid wekten een vage herinnering. Dunne wieltjes met de diameter van een koffiekop zwenkten uit onder de houten poten vandaan. Dat maakte het meubeltje beweeglijk en toeschietelijk, wars van de gewichtigheid en onwrikbaarheid van het overige meubilair. De vier vierkante, door afrondingen verslankte poten worden tweemaal verbonden. Het onderste blad verraadt sporen van gebruik. Het bovenste is afwijkend van kleur, glanzend en onaangetast. In mijn herinnering was het gelakt, zoals het zilver omrande dienblad dat dieprood glansde, een zeldzame kleur thuis die mooi afstak tegen de vermouth in de glazen. Maar het lichtgele, even glanzende blad van het roltafeltje vertoont de uitgesponnen tekening van rolfineer. Zou het van dezelfde eik komen als het frame, maar dan anders verwerkt, bijgekleurd en gevernist? Over de rand krullende handgrepen nodigen uit om het bovenste blad eruit te tillen. Daaronder verschijnt hetzelfde geel. In een front aan de lange zijde is een lade ingewerkt. De voeg eronder is over het front verlengd en herhaald door groefjes. Maar een handvat is er niet. Met je hand onder de lade, weten de huisgenoten, schuif je ze open. Het roltafeltje staat nu zeven jaar in onze woonkamer. Mijn vader is vijf jaar dood. Vorige zomer, toen mijn moeder op bezoek was, bracht iemand het gesprek op dat tafeltje. Toen ze pas getrouwd waren en bij haar ouders inwoonden, zei mijn moeder, had mijn vader het ontworpen. Dat wist ik niet. Ik had het altijd vol paperassen gezien, notulen van de vergaderingen waar hij ‘s avonds heenging en geen blijf mee wist. Zijn nieuwe tijdverdrijf had het oude bedolven. Nu liggen er kranten op, of draagt het een vaas met bloemen. Soms staan er de hapjes en de glazen op waar het voor bedoeld was. Baby Elli heeft er een dutje op gedaan, terwijl haar mama pratend aan tafel zat. Barry, de zwart-witte puppy gaat zitten op het onderste blad, boven de vloer, beschut door de lade. Voorwerpen vertegenwoordigen aspiraties over mogelijke levens. Dat heeft mijn vader dus ook ooit begrepen. B
31
Streets of BK City
STUDENT SPOLIA Words Nicole van Roij
Images Leeke Reinders
Since the beginning of the academic year, the new chair of Urban Architecture offers studios in the Architecture track. The graduation theme of this year is spolia. A term from archaeology, spolia are the left-overs or ‘spoils’ of a building, which find themselves back in a new structure. The students were asked to introduce themselves together with a personal piece of spolia. The spoils, taken to the studio by students, illustrate that every-day artefacts can change function, carry emotional narratives or transform in meaning.
s dres from rt i to sk from book to sketchbook
multi-purp o jar
se
candle holder
ancient USB-mouse
jewellery box
vint pot
upcycled bike
storage shelf
age
BECOME A PEN PAL! We are always searching for new voices to join and contribute to Bnieuws. Whether your talents are in writing, drawing, photography, graphic design, or you’re filled with a range of skills, we would love to hear from you if you have any ideas for the faculty periodical. If you would like to be on our contributors list, simply send an email with your ideas to bnieuws-BK@tudelft.nl
NEXT ISSUE: 05 EXODUS Be it the primordial ocean, the caves we once used as shelter or the womb of our mother, we are in a journey that will unavoidably take us far from where we departed. Nostalgia for what we used to call home might overwhelm us, or perhaps in this EXODUS we might find what we were missing. Bnieuws 53/05 due February 2019.
Bnieuws INDEPENDENT PERIODICAL OF THE FACULTY OF ARCHITECTURE AND THE BUILT ENVIRONMENT TU DELFT VOLUME 53 ISSUE 04
