Dreamscapes

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DREAMSCAPES

I’m on the pursuit of happiness, and I know

I’ll be fine once I get it Everything that shine ain’t always gonna be gold I’ll be good...

In the song Pursuit of Happiness (Nightmare) by Kid Cudi, he encrypted the message of those chasing momentary bliss and blindly seeking alternative happiness will ultimately result in nightmares... To the folks who are sleeping right now, you might be in eternal happiness at a beach, but that is only fading images created by your cognitive synapses. Here in the waking population, the worldly issues we are dealing with on a daily basis are (unfortunately) actual nightmares, solidifying the fact that the art of living is not to daydream, but rather, it is about unraveling nightmares until we find their beautiful, shining core. With the new semester starting, many of us do not have enough time to dream while sleeping anymore, so we found that it is fitting to choose DREAMSCAPES as a theme. Additionally, while we are awake, we are capable of making dreams come true, designing dreams, and creating our own fantastical universe. Are you still thinking about that trip you took to Barcelona while you are preparing for a presentation?

As a given, the content of this issue expands beyond the physical word, we first arrive at a concerning (yet exciting) topic of Architecture without Architects (page 4). Then we venture into the nostalgic commemoration for the Vietnam War through the journey of Tuyen’s favorite vegetable (page 8). On page 12, from destruction we found broken dreams of Rotterdam city, with the changing demographic of dwellers, can the city keep up with housing demands? An essential part of this theme must include an actual analysis of a dream; Oliwia will take us through her dream whilst unhatching the components of a dreamed space (page 17). Staying in the autobiographical lane, we have Heesoo’s rendition of her own story of becoming the founder of a feminist religion called Leymusoom (page 20).

Departing from personal stories, we then arrive at the Metaverse; Saartje gives us a critical explanation of what is a metaverse, and the blurred lines between the virtual and the real world (page 24). Finally, we return to our real world, where we can all face our reality again through Emilie’s article on climate urgency. Each of our actions are shaping a certain type of future, but how do we position ourselves in the Anthropocene and what kind of future do we dream of? (page 30)

Emphasizing on the plurality of the word dreamscapes, we see that while we are aware of our existence and capability, the possibility to dream and create is endless. Not only as a way to collect your conscious thoughts, but also to share the routes you can take while you are scoping around this collection of dreaming landscapes.

TO VISIT / DUTCH DESIGN WEEK 2022 Theme: Get Set

The annual week-long design festival in Eindhoven is back with another edition. This year's theme is 'Get Set', decided by the Dutch Design Foundation in discussion with designers of various disciplines. Regarding this theme, creative head Miriam van der Lubbe says: "The most important message is that people must get activated. Doing nothing is not an option anymore. We have to act now.[...] The only mistake we can make is just not to get started. So get set!”

For more info: ddw.nl

TO READ / STORIES OF YOUR LIFE AND OTHERS by Ted Chiang

A collection of short stories guided by questions like: What if we were introduced to a language of aliens that would change our perception of time forever? What would happen if we built a tower of Babel that actually reached to the sky? A little read for study breaks, train rides or time spent waiting.

TO WATCH / BOILING POINT Directed by Philip Barantini

Shot in one continuous take, Boiling Point follows the story of a head-chef and his team on the busiest night of the year in their restaurant in central London. The pressure builds as they are faced with challenge after challenge in this restless and enthralling cinematic journey.

Premiering in Dutch cinemas on Oct 6th, 2022

TO LISTEN / TIME SENSITIVE PODCAST

Episode 35: Julia Watson on the Power of Indigenous Technologies to Transform Our Planet (Mar 2020).

Watson discusses her deep research into diverse indigenous communities, the symbiotic relationship between culture and nature, and other topics on this episode of Time Sensitive. The environmentalist studied landscape architecture at Harvard’s Graduate School of Design, where she focused on eco-technologies and preservation of sacred spaces.

TO DO / 10TH INTERNATIONAL ARCHITECTURE BIENNALE ROTTERDAM

Until 13 Nov 2022

The 10th International Architecture Biennale in Rotterdam is underway, running from 22 September until 13 November. The theme of this year's biennale is "It's About Time", exploring the pressure we are under to counteract the effects of climate change and the relationship of architecture thereto.

More info: architecturebiennalerotterdam2022.nl

Don't forget to check out our WEBSITE bnieuws.nl

all the old issues in the archive, for hours of reading pleasure! Follow us on INSTAGRAM for updates @bnieuws

From the editors

ARCHITECTURE WITHOUT ARCHITECTS.02

Words Zuza Sliwinska

In the monotony of standardized, cookie-cutter architecture, we continue striving for novelty in our designs. Yet, we find our imagination limited to the confinements of engraved in mind, set of typologies. Despite the pragmatic rationale behind the forms and shapes of our buildings, we wonder: is there a space for more originality and one-of-a-kindness? Will the future of design generate more limitations or possibilities, bringing dreamscapes to life? And if so, will our role as designers still be a creative one or will it become passive in favour of new (artificially) intelligent designer?

As a member of Bouwkunde, you have likely become familiar with the work of Bernard Rudofsky. If you haven’t, please grab a copy after rounding off the last page of this issue! In his discourse Architecture Without Architects: A Short Introduction to Non-Pedigreed Architecture, he takes a look at vernacular construction and argues the position of architectural practice as a universal phenomenon born in the hands of non-specialist and nonarchitect. Who, according to him, acts spontaneously, often out of necessity, supported solely by experience gathered within his/her community lifetime.1

As I navigate through pages of Rudofsky’s efforts to bring attention to the unfamiliar or otherwise what we could describe as informal architecture, I can’t help but notice that the array of examples in the book is everything but uniform in form and shape. The diversity comes in typology, tools and materials used, ornamentation (or complete disregard for it), and endless other parameters of unique identity each of these structures carries.

Isn't this historical narrative pictured by Rudofsky quite the opposite of what today's urban landscapes

look like? Populated by same-looking structures, only now and then interrupted by work of some more daring designer or global starchitect? The popular yet monotonous residential building type of '5 over 1' was developed in the United States in the 80s. Like in the case of other typologies, it was essentially a product of the housing crisis, a need to accommodate many people in affordable, easily buildable and replicable dwellings. A similar situation drove the development of twin solutions in European countries, resulting in the unification of how residential units look today.

With all the above perfectly justified by economic and social factors, I still get carried away with a thought - what if our cities were a collection of one-of-a-kind buildings instead? With each structure looking utterly different from its neighbour? An urban scape from a dream, escape from the monotony? Would it add more colour to the urban environment or create confusion in navigating the city without clear distinctions between various functions? And more interestingly, would we be capable of creating such variety in the age of mass reproduction and high demand for construction?

From top: Granaries in Spanish province Galicia; Photographs of the village at the foot of the Bandiagara cliff, Dagan tribe, Sudan; Minature silos structures on Ivory Coast. (featured in 'Architecture without architects' by Bernard Rudofsky)

Today, Rudofsky’s idea of ‘architecture without architects’ or, more broadly, design without designers takes on a new meaning and leaves us with crucial questions on originality and authorship. This relatively recent discovery is AI [Artificial Intelligence] generated imagery which has quickly become a new obsession or, in some circles, a source of despite and genuine worry about the future of all kinds of creative professions.

In 2015, when most of us mortals were bouncing to the rhythm of Uptown Funk, AI scientists broke through a kick-starting development – automated image captioning. From that moment on, the computer would be able to describe the scenes from any image in a human-like language. This invention soon triggered the discussion on the mirrored operation where the images could be generated from the captions – later called prompts. However, the ambition didn’t stop at retrieving the images from an already existing dataset, similar to what you might be familiar with from the Google Image Search engine. Instead, the AI would generate a new scene that has not yet existed - a completely new fantasy. This process started with asking the AI for impossible scenes such as ‘elephants flying over the New York skyline or ‘tiny whale having dinner with Donald Trump’ – you get the idea. Soon this technology evolved into DALL-E and Mid Journey – two pioneering platforms now used as a medium for creating art pieces and new design concepts. AI image-generating revelation was welcomed with split interest, owe and anxiety over a possibly

endangered future role of a designer. Technology has already threatened professions such as graphic designers and digital artists, which could become reduced to AI-generated proposals in the future. As expected, a critical thought formed in the process.

Everything we create is empowered or inspired by the collection of our experiences and knowledge, as Henri Bergson would rightfully notice. At the same time, our thinking is limited to confinement of this past, broad but limited references, which consciously or subconsciously influence our views and ability to create the novel. Hence, it can be argued that ‘new and original doesn’t exist per se but that every invention is an interpretation of an old through the lens of today. Speaking in architectural language, you might observe that many of our projects look alike. It is indeed challenging to develop an entirely new typology as we are somewhat limited to the bounds of particular architectural styles and morphologies we are well familiar with. In contrast, despite being initially trained on the existing images, the AI sets free from constraints of, e.g., educational templates and allows itself to generate completely new combinations, motifs and styles. Still, in the diapers, DALL-E or Midjourney remain a 2D tool. However, since speedy development since the 1950s (when the first speculations on artificial brain design), the capability of AI could soon expand into 3D. Combined with 3D printing, gaining the popularity in the industry, could AI generate unexpected, new designs and at the same time perform its construction? Maybe

today, this question sounds like a dream (or a nightmare), but 50 years ago, AI wasn’t even a term, yet today it continues to surprise us with its capabilities!

Now the actual question is, how do we feel about it?

Throughout history, machines managed to ease the hardships of human labour, allowing for the expansion of human intellectual endeavours, which in return triggered the development of yet new technology (basically a Perpetuum mobile). But is the design and creative field something we would like to give up and trust in the hands of the machine? And to what degree, if at all? The act of artificial pro- and

repro-duction carries a danger of detaching the pieces of architecture from our culture and tradition, depriving the pieces of what Walter Benjamin calls an ‘aura’ – the unique presence of an object in time and space of its creation, and, one might want to add, an image of the creator behind it. What is indeed the future of the design, and what role you and I will play in it?

1. Rudofsky, Bernard. 1964. Architecture Without Architects: A Short Introduction to Non-Pedigreed Architecture. New York: Doubleday.

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Ai generated design for residential tower. Mohamad Rasoul Moosapour through Midjourney. (Designboom)

Cookie-cutter design. Office buildings in Washington DC, Glasgow, and Ho Chi Minh City respectively from left.

From the editors

RAU MUỐNG, NOSTALGIA, AND WAR

Words Tuyen Le Images Mary Le & Tuyen Le

I recently traveled to Kassel in Germany for documenta fifteen, an art festival that happens every five years and occupies Kassel for 100 days. Nhà sàn collective and bà bầu air, Hanoi-based art collectives, hosted my stay at their queer guesthouse called ưh ưh 22 for a duration of five days. Behind the guesthouse was a luscious garden named vườn di cư (migrating garden) by the artist Tuấn Mami. A garden full of vegetables that the local Vietnamese community has donated to the artist to build a green haven full of produce. Frankly, in the middle of Kassel, having a garden flourishing with Vietnamese vegetables is a true depiction of a migrant dream. The familiar sight of the vegetables I grew up eating has lend me a hand to my childhood memories, to meal times with my family, and it has rekindled of my nostalgia for quê hương (homeland).

Migration happens when our home is not concurring with our path anymore, and while some have the choice, and some do not. In our home away from home, we identify ourselves with the food that we cook, consume, and enjoy. As an international student, migrating from Vietnam to Iowa (the United States), and now to Delft, I share the awareness that local supermarkets do not offer the kind of vegetable that keeps our string tied to our roots. Among the stories I have heard growing up, and Vietnamese people I have interacted with while living in different places, the string that leads these lives back to their homeland, is through their backyard garden and food. Therefore, the migrating garden shows how displaced Vietnamese communities can stay connected to their roots, directly through the roots of their vegetables. And with that, by soothing our taste bud, the longing for comfort can be cured.

There are deep remnants of the Vietnam War in how the rest of the world views Vietnamese cuisine. Due to this war, families had to make an important decision, whether to stay or flee, bringing with them their pain from the forced migration, and their hopes for a better life in a foreign land. They planted the seeds they have smuggled with them inside their limited luggage, and through these offerings, nostalgia reliably offers one thing, ESCAPE, away from the uncertainty of the future, and towards the permanence of the past. Some dynamic ways of how the displaced Viet people express their nostalgia is when they open restaurants that are proudly adorned with symbols and decorations that depict Vietnam through the owner's lens. Additionally, they open grocery stores that meticulously source homeland’s products to support their diasporic community.

Mary Le is a close friend of mine and she introduced me to her father, No Le, who is standing proudly in front of his own migranting garden in Des Moines, Iowa, United States. (Mary Le, 2020)

For instance, the bowl of phở that you eat at a restaurant in Rotterdam has been fortified based on the Southern Vietnamese style. For historical context, September 2nd of 1975 became Vietnam's Independence Day, it marked the fall of the Southern Democratic regime based in Saigon (the part of Vietnam that is supported by the United States), and the birth of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, also known as the unification of the North and South of Vietnam. With most families who fled were from the South of Vietnam, they brought the taste of Southern phở with them. Hence, the rest of the world today is more familiar with the taste of Southern phở, with a lot more spice, darker broth color, and extra side vegetables. Within the culture that Viet people portray in how they make food, there is always a hint of nostalgia. Especially, the sincere hope that each plate they share with their peers can keep the dream alive, the dream of one day they can recreate these things at their hometown/childhood kitchen. In order to legitimize their attempt at the flavor of Vietnamese food, we also need to understand the limited resource one would have in order to embody the flavor, and the kitchen that is used to process these ingredients also matter. Even if those memories were painful, even if the past was not great, the comforting feeling of the past echoes through our journey in the present, and this familiarity can keep us grounded as we are approaching the unknown future.

Homesickness always leads me to crave for rau muống xào (pan-fry water spinach). It brought me great joy when my mother prepared this simple dish for our family meals, but the vegetable is nowhere to be found in stores or Vietnamese restaurants here. Before 1945, rau muống was used to feed farm animals (mostly pigs and cows), and after 1975, it was a definite struggle for everyone who stayed behind or could not leave, so they started to use these vegetables in cooking by pan frying it with garlic, or simply steaming it. When its seed was smuggled across the ocean, there were even politics behind it, as told by Viet folks who crossed borders to the US. The way you process the vegetable at your home kitchen can indicate your origin (Northern or Southern), and this could bring either comradery or scrutiny onto your family amongst the Vietnamese migrant community. In the modern time, it has become a staple dish in Vietnamese meals and my favorite vegetable to feed my nostalgia with, albeit the difficult past that water spinach has carried through its journey.

Around April, Mr. Le would start propagating his garden near the kitchen, where the light comes in the most during the afternoon. (Mary Le, 2020)

While I was living here in my bachelor years, Mr. Le was my rau muống supplier free of charge, as all he wanted was to share the fruits of his labor to friends and families alike. Mr. Le was a soldier during the Vietnam War, who survived a bomb explosion, and was a war prisoner for two years. He managed through many disparities during his escape journey through Cambodia, Malaysia, and finally, settling down in Iowa, United States. With most seeds considered to be invasive species according to the States’ agricultural standard, he keeps his vegetables in pots to prevent native soil erosion or overgrow. He takes on the migrant garden as a way to feed his nostalgic tendency for quê hương, as well as establishing his roots again in a foreign land.

As I am writing these words, I recognize my own privilege of never experiencing the pain of being displaced by war or conflict, but I am doing so by choice, and with the hope that these choices would lead me to my dream. But what is the value of this dream when we voluntarily unplug ourselves from our heritage and culture, in order to make sense with our current place of residence, and make sense of our future self? Romanticizing the past through the agency of nostalgia can bring comfort, regardless if this certain comfort can mean holding onto painful memoribilia, and feeding a certain delusion that takes us away from the sensible truth. The Vietnam War separated a nation and scattered its people all over the world. And while these people are planting roots in a new place (sometimes not of their choosing), they are also commemorating their past memories, one garden at a time.

Abdelfatah, Rund and Ramtin Arablouei. "The Nostalgia Bone." Throughline. NPR, 2021. Espiritu Gandhi, Evyn Lê. “The Refugee Settler Condition: Vietnamese Diasporas in Guahan and Palestine.” The Funambulist no. 43, 2022. documenta. "lumbung". documenta-fifteen.de. 2022

This garden consists of the vegetables that caught my sight, smell, and taste from the migrating garden at documenta, they were rau muống, rau kinh giới, rau tần ô, bầu, and ớt sừng trâu (water spinach, Vietnamese balm, crown daisy, Vietnamese gourd, and horn pepper). A reunion scene is happening as the gourds finding their way back to their comfort space. (Tuyen Le, 2022)

From the editors

DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH, FOREVER YOUNG

Words and Images Jonas Althuis

Rotterdam. The city you identify with, the city you belong in. The city that suits you perfectly, where you feel right at home. The city whose flaws you look past, or perhaps cherish because, well, ‘they give the city their character’. The city you moved to because you felt you had outgrown Delft, and you were looking for a new world to explore. If you recognise yourself in any of these statements, I’m sorry to tell you this but you’re unknowingly playing a role in a scheme that might be some 40 years in the making, and it has serious consequences.

Rotterdam is a city you’ve surely heard of. It’s big. It’s ugly. It’s close to Delft. Many design projects, both in Bachelor and Master education at our faculty, take place there, so you may have gotten to know it a little through these projects. It’s a city that’s in a constant state of flux, which is perhaps what draws many people to it. It can be overwhelming, but its energy can be enchanting; it makes residents and visitors alike feel like they’re part of something bigger. The constant change in and rapid development of the city, where new projects seem to pop up every other week, undeniably also has its downsides. In the rush to become an attractive and competitive ‘city of the world’, it seems policymakers have sometimes put ambition before the most important needs of the city’s loyal long-term residents, implicating a young generation of new residents in the process. This, is the story of how the ambitions and needs of different entities can come to clash in the modern metropolitan context.

Rotterdam’s history as port city has strongly shaped what it is today. During the 19th and 20th centuries, shipping and maritime industries brought prosperity, attracting huge numbers of migrants from surrounding regions to come work in the

harbours and ship-building docks that were at the time still close to the city centre. This led to the formation of a large working-class, that lived in crowded neighbourhoods in the inner city. As globalisation and technology changed maritime industries throughout the later 20th century, many labour-intensive manufacturing and shipping jobs disappeared, leading labourers to leave the city and causing disruption in neighbourhoods and communities. With working-class housing, sometimes built by companies for employees, and rapidly built housing from the reconstruction period following the destruction of the Second World War, Rotterdam’s housing stock was dominated by cheap, low-quality housing, much of which was socially rent-controlled. An influx of migrants from abroad moving into the city’s neighbourhoods led the population of the city to become extremely diverse, leading to strong but separate communities of residents. This diversity is still strongly present today.

Facing a massive task to transform former industrial areas in the city, increase the quality of its housing stock, and attract new residents to the city, Rotterdam adopted novel growth-oriented

strategies of governance and urban development. In other words, the municipality, supported by the state, started going crazy with urban development and restructuring, creating large scale masterplans for different parts of the city. Starting in the 1980s, the impacts of these governing strategies can still be felt today, producing the busy climate of development and construction that is still ongoing. An important example of such a development is the Erasmus bridge and the Kop van Zuid area. The Erasmus bridge, completed in 1996, was built to be an icon and eye-catcher, connecting the north and south parts of the city physically, economically, and socially, in a monumental way.

With a shortage of middle-class housing at a time when the city desperately wanted to attract middle-class residents, the abundance of socialrented housing in the city came to be seen as a threat to development. Neighbourhoods with high concentrations of socially-rented housing typically suffered from other problems as well; criminality, nuisance, vandalism, and unemployment. The city wanted to reduce these problems, not least because they made neighbourhoods undesirable for the new residents they were trying to attract. Why did Rotterdam want to attract and retain middle-class residents? Many reasons; to bring the wealth, jobs, culture, and knowledge needed to develop and grow beyond its labour-intensive industrial past; to be an economically desirable place for companies to establish themselves; to generate the tax income necessary to physically improve the city; to compete with the other major cities of the Randstad and of Europe. Rotterdam’s ambitions to develop clashed with existing working-class populations in the city centre, and it’s course of action would be to reduce these populations in the city centre.

Because of this, municipal strategies explicitly started to focus on gentrification, not as a consequence of urban development, but as a means of achieving it. The goal in doing so was to balance the class-composition of the city and ‘civilise’ problematised neighbourhoods, increasing their economic value. With a limited owner-occupied

housing stock and therefore inadequate opportunities for home-ownership, Rotterdam was unable to retain the middle-class residents that completed studies or worked in the city. It’s a simple but tragic reality that rented-housing, be it socially or privately rented, does not allow occupiers to accumulate wealth through the value of their home. For middle-class residents that could afford to buy homes elsewhere, staying in the rent-dominated city was therefore undesirable.

The political climate at the time may have had to do with this ambition too; the late politician Pim Fortuyn, who was flagrantly anti-Islam and xenophobic, was hugely popular in the municipal elections of March 2002, his party Leefbaar Rotterdam winning 34.7% of the vote to instantly become the biggest party in the municipal council. Ironically, he was kicked out of this party not soon after for suggesting that the first article of the Dutch constitution, which forbids discrimination against people for any reason, should be abolished. Months later he was shot and killed. In a broader sense,

In 2007, the municipality published their vision for the city for 2030, Stadsvisie Rotterdam 2030. In this thorough 160+ page publication outlining the city's goals for the future and how to reach them, the term gentrification is mentioned no less than 31 times, often in combination with methods on how to stimulate it in the different neighbourhoods, as well as the supposed benefits that it can bring. In short, gentrification is embraced as a means of urban development, both in new-build projects, as well as integrally in existing neighbourhoods. It’s concerning that the negative consequences of this focus on gentrification go ignored, if not at the very least under-researched and unmentioned, though perhaps this is by design.

Making room for new housing typologies of higher quality in the city has meant that portions of the existing housing stock, as well as former industrial sites and harbour areas have been demolished to make room. This has been going on throughout the past decades, and nowadays the development of

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new projects seems to be booming more strongly than it ever was, with fierce redevelopment projects taking place across the city. Just one year ago, demolition started on a significant portion of the Afrikaanderwijk neighbourhood called the Tweebosbuurt, with demolition works still continuing today. Despite protests from residents and other initiatives, the demolition was set forth by the housing corporation that owned most of the properties, in discussion with the municipality.

A total of 524 socially rented dwellings have been demolished, the primary reasons given for their destruction being the bad physical state of the dwellings. Only 137 new socially-rented dwellings will be built in their place though, the remaining nearly 250 new dwellings being privately-rented and owner-occupied housing. While social housing corporations are required by law to offer residents alternative housing in such a situation, this is not guaranteed to be near their original homes, tearing apart long-standing communities of residents. With this comes the question of the impacts that new

residents of higher income levels bring to such neighbourhoods. What supposedly happens, is that ‘liveability’, a term associated with reduced urban problems like crime, nuisance, vandalism, increases. Not only is this term problematic because of the limited and one-sided view it offers, the reason that ‘liveability’ increases is that residents associated with this problematisation are simply pushed out of the neighbourhood. The conditions of remaining disadvantaged groups with aren’t necessarily improved by the arrival of middle and upper-middle class groups however.

These processes of gentrification in the city lead to the suburbanisation of poverty, whereby households with lesser means are continuously pushed to the urban peripheries and surrounding boroughs, as they can no longer find affordable housing in the central areas. This happens through both direct and indirect displacement, the former being demolition of homes as mentioned, the latter via priceexclusion, whereby prices of centrally located homes are simply inaccessible to low income

Remnants of the Tweebosbuurt and the machines that brought it to the ground, in stark contrast to the polished skyline of the Kop van Zuid in the distance. (Jonas Althuis, taken on Sept. 10, 2022).

households. For reference, the maximum you can earn to qualify for social housing as a one-person household in 2022 is €40,765, which is €2,765 more than the expected average national income of €38,000 this year. That is to say, the amount of people that rely on social housing to be able to live where they want to is not insignificant, and we can ask ourselves whether Rotterdam is not simply pushing people out of the city centre. Beyond that, socially-rented housing has intentionally been given a negative connotation of poverty, while historically it was available for everybody and a large section of the population lived in socially-rented homes. In other words, the very language used in the discourse about social housing and city development has been used to problematise low-income residents and create a much-believed idea of a separate ‘us’ and ‘them’.

The 20th and 21st century saw the emergence of many new forms of work in society, leading to the rise of a new ‘creative class’. Writer and research Richard Florida describes this group of people as follows:

“The distinguishing characteristic of the creative class is that its members engage in work whose function is to create meaningful new forms. […] These people engage in creative problem-solving, drawings on complex bodies of knowledge in seeking innovative solutions. Doing so typically requires a high degree of formal education, and thus a high level of human capital. […] What they are required to do regularly is think on their own. They apply or combine standard approaches in unique ways to fit the situation, exercise a great deal of judgement, and at times must independently try new ideas and innovations on their own.”

Does that sound at all familiar? Florida writes that this class includes a wide range of professionals, from engineers, to professors, to actors, to writers and designers. Not surprisingly, architects are right at home among these professionals. The way Florida describes ‘the creative class’ could be a perfect description of the curriculum at our faculty. In itself

this is not a bad thing, but Florida goes on to show that the creative epicentres where these professionals congregate are also some of the cities with the highest levels of inequality in the American context (cities such as Austin, San Francisco and Washington D.C.). Two things are ironic about this; creativity is supposedly ‘the great leveller’; it can’t be owned or handed down, yet the presence of the creative industry manages to create inequality. Beyond that, one of the hallmarks that draws the creative class to these epicentres is tolerance. Florida writes that members of the creative class prefer places with high levels of tolerance; tolerance in the sense of openness, inclusiveness and diversity. Yet precisely what attracts these people to such cities can simultaneously damage diversity by pushing out people of lesser means.

If you ask me, the same thing is happening in Rotterdam. One of the explicit aims in the Stadsvisie Rotterdam 2030 is to attract creative people to the city. Creatives have historically been known to kindle gentrification in problematised or dilapidated neighbourhoods, and for nearly two decades now, Rotterdam has been set on attracting more of these people to the city; “The creative sector is important as catalyst for gentrification (upgrading) of existing neighbourhoods” (translated from Dutch, page 51). The architecture sector is specifically mentioned as a strong existing sector that can be capitalised on and should be expanded. This is you. This is me. The exact people they’re trying to attract. The perfect people to gentrify the city. It’s not a coincidence that we feel at home in Rotterdam, it’s the result of years of careful crafting, on an image, atmosphere, and setting that is desirable to us.

My title for this article “Diamond in the Rough, Forever Young” comes from the 2007 Stadsvisie document mentioned in the text. The document starts out with buzzwords that highlight the city’s ambitions, “diamond in the rough” (ruwe diamant) and "forever young" (eeuwige jeugd), are just two of these. All of the sources for this article will be published with the digital version of this edition on our website Bnieuws.nl.

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From the editors

DREAMED CITIES AS NEURODIVERGENT CITIES

Words & Images Oliwia Jackowska

What does the notion of DREAMED SPACES strike you as? Maybe you think liveability, large green spaces and walkable cities... or, maybe like me, you see them as personal interpretations of places around us which show themselves as visions while we sleep. These live between the deepest subconscious layers of our minds. What do they mean? Why should we watch them a bit closer?

At some point in life, I am sure, most people try to seek the meaning of their dreams. It could be when going through puberty, as an attempt to understand own desires, or maybe a bit later on, fascination with dreams becomes a way to cope with anxiety triggered by a burnout or heartbreak. In attempts to interpret these often entangled and seemingly nonsensical imaginative worlds, we search for symbolisms. And even though we lose interest eventually, as it might seem to be just an empty fascination leading nowhere, the scholars have been trying to understand dreams for centuries and use them in psychological diagnosis and therapy. The key figure in dream studies was Carl Jung, who, nowadays, however much criticised for his approach, saw dreams as psyche’s attempt to communicate crucial things to the individual. He explored the idea of the collective unconscious, being a set of “default” mental concepts that are at the base of society and include instincts and archetypes that are inherent to being a human. With these two notions considered, by and large, Jung was interested in using his patients' dreams to map out the relationship of their psyche to this wider context of the collective unconscious, hence understanding what is an individual's position to or within that universe of societal ideas.

This fascinating theme keeps circling back to myself as well, despite me being no expert in psychology. The idea of one’s psyche standing, for example, in contrast to what is generally considered as the instinctive default, shows that everyone’s relation to the world around them, as they see and experience it in the waking reality, is extremely personal and it manifests in its true form through their dreams These dreams always occur in some kind of time, space and emotional state, and, however much abstracted the image is, our minds draw inspiration from the reality. In relation to that, an interesting concept was described by scholar Athanasios Totlis for North American Journal of Medical Sciences. Developed as Spatio-Temporal and Emotional (ST+E) dream theory. It analyses and defines the relation in all the three listed aspects between dream representations and the waking reality: Space, Time and Emotion. On a side note: sounds familiar to tools used for site analysis in design projects, right? Interestingly, in architectural or urban spatiotemporal analysis there is no inclusion of the aspect of emotion, while it proves over and over to be one of the most important elements of building an individual’s relationship to a place. Now, we can say that in dreams, generally, it happens that (as seen in the graph with three theoretical elements):Let's

focus on the aspect of space, which without a doubt is the most complex component. By paying closer attention to our psyche, which is by far better informed than our conscious way of thinking, we can learn about our real desires, needs and, most importantly, the relationship to the spaces around us in the waking reality. Now, let me take you through my own personal experience with dreams as there is no other way to showcase this theory rather than being very specific... So here on consider yourself welcome to see a sector of my own psyche

In everyday life, I get lost easily and lose track of the space around me, unless it is a route deeply engraved in my day to day routine (even this requires high alert attention). You will always find me walking through places with my eyes pinned to the maps on my phone screen, and following closely the dot with the little direction arrow, as more often than not I am not able to position myself. This shop here is on the other side, but which side of that shop am I supposed to turn by and… what is the name of the street? Not sure how to say it else, but really, it is a problem, and has always been, however much I tried to concentrate and just do better. Even, or rather should I say - especially, my hometown, in which I grew up in and visit often, cannot be navigated without that wonder of digital live mapping. But what might surprise you, this off-track condition disappears, and I am never disoriented about my whereabouts when they are placed within my dreams. Truly, as if "Inception" was real, I am, in concrete detail, understanding and have

unconscious control over the spaces around me, which often have very specific features, placed in cities that make sense.

Though, even when I am dreaming about my hometown, the places in it seem familiar but they are in completely different configurations their relationships to each other are redefined and shuffled to match my own psyche. My brain re-designs the city so that when I am in control, it is custom-made just for me and... it works. Suddenly I don't get lost, I know where to go, even though in dreams the purpose of the trip might not be so clear. You can say that dreamed cities are neurodivergent cities, where the importance and meaning of places (or rather the associated Emotions) are the uttermost quality, while the form or function does not matter almost at all.

In one such dream, I was moving through my hometown, but the most important street of the old town was wider and longer than normally and was leading through shops and gathered street vendors, who with their clothing seemed to be taken out of the Positivism era. I moved towards a hill, which in reality is a smooth and rather small incline, but here the hill was beautiful, and I could see the landscape and the sunset behind a house positioned at the highest point. The house was my destination in this dream, which in the waking reality is an obscure building hidden away, but one that has been, since forever, a meeting spot for me and my best friends.

Impressions of a dream.

In a different dream, I was walking through a city, the city that is actually located on Mars, but with its long streets of repetitive houses it was reminiscent of my university town of Bath in England. Though, the red ground of the other-worldly planet made it seem as if a town straight from a western movie, just as did the murky and dark interiors of the pubs occupied by cowboys and countless jars filled with unidentified contents. Easy to say: I did not enjoy my time in England. But what is even more important about these short stories is that when the image of the city is filtered only through our own imagination in a way completely devoid of conscious bias, it changes the way we read the space. The places of importance are connected in a peculiar way to each other in dreams, and hence they are not geographic anymore, but spiritual or mental interpretations. This way we can ask, what are the limitations of this? If we pay attention to the our dreams and those of others, can we understand not only our own relationship to Jung's collective unconscious, but also the way we rationally understand cities and spaces? Have we been doing it wrong this whole time? Does everyone have their own interpretation of the space, or do they overlap somewhere to create familiar archetypes? There are limitations, of course, as much as you can analyse your own dreams overlapping different psyches might prove way too complex with no limits to human subconscious imagination.

Despite this complexity, I believe there is value in linking the dream theory into our analysis of cities and diving deeper into an idea of why some (or maybe most?) people do not seem to fit in. Getting lost just might be a symptom of a bigger problem.

A German filmmaker, Hito Steyerl, in her article "In Free Fall:

A Thought Experiment on Vertical Perspective", refers to the present moment as distinguished by a prevailing condition of groundlessness. She argues that due to that lack of stable ground, with nothing under our feet, we are in a constant state of free-falling, without noticing. This comes with a sense of disorientation, since the horizon is no longer a constant linear point of reference. Paradoxically, by falling asleep we enter the state of lightness, and just like with falling, we lose any sense of where our body begins and the world ends. I believe that falling asleep is the true meaning of Steyerl's falling in place Hence, the value that I have found in my own journey is a gentler view of my spatial disorientation, as I realised that it is not me getting lost in the waking reality's surroundings, but the surroundings losing me.

This article is a thought experiment and it attempts to spark some processes and discussions. Please share your own thoughts or dreams with us!

HOW TO BECOME THE FOUNDER OF A FEMINIST RELIGION

Words and Images Heesoo Kwon

You

look young. You stand next to the flowers. I think you are more beautiful than the flowers. You are wearing a white dress with a hair scarf. You are smiling toward me. You look perfect in this picture.

But I know you. Your life got tough after a year. You married a man who already had a wife and children in North Korea. You were seventeen. Even though he couldn’t meet his family again till he died, you were alone and lonely.

SACRED SCARED

He n e v e r u n d e r s t o o d y o u.

And finally left you. You raised your four children by yourself. You worked hard in the city and sent the money to your children. Three girls and a boy. You spent your twenties and thirties supporting them. When they went to school, you opened a small snack bar next to the oldest and largest shopping area in the city. You had to earn money for their education.

SACRIFICE

You loved your son the most. You thought your ex-husband might love you and stay at home if you have a son. You had three girls until you had your first boy. He was clever and good. But even though you had a son, your ex-husband didn’t love you. Your ex-husband left you but you still had your boy besides you. You relied on your boy. He was your son, your husband and your father.

When your boy told you he wants to marry, you were pleased to imagine your life to be free from the pressure to support your children. You said you don't want to do housework any more. Your daughterin-law should do that. You wanted to take a rest for the first time in your life. When your granddaughters were born, your son suddenly decided to prepare for the national bar exam. He studied well during college and has worked at an insurance company with a good reputation. However, your daughter-in-law’s family hurt his pride. They were all educated and richer than your family. When your first granddaughter was four years old, he left home.

And there were four women left.

I hate religion. I am afraid of it. Religion is scary and hilarious. My grandmother was a sincere Catholic. My great grandmother was even more sincere than her. My great grandmother went to church by crossing a mountain back and forth for five hours every morning with her children. M y g r a n d m o t h e r used to talk about how much it was hard to leave home before 5am to go to church everyday.

Our family went to church every weekend. I remember when I took classes in the church to receive my first communion. I was 10 years old. I got a notebook from the church. I had to trace and write the bible everyday. It was one of the required assignments. I would write the bible for 3 to 4 hours a day but couldn’t finish my assignment. My mom h e l p e d m e . S h e wrote the bible i n s t e a d o f m e whenever it was painful to grab the pencil. There were many sacred gifts in my home including statues of the Virgin Mary and Jesus, old bibles or chapelets. My grandmother called me and my sister to her room and read bible in every morning before we had breakfast. I remember that huge, thick and smelly old book. I remember that book written in tiny tiny lettering. I remember that morning.

My g r a n d m o t h e r w a s s u c h a self-giving person in the church community. She did all the dirty work for the community. When a drunk person threw up at the entrance of the church, she spontaneously volunteered to clean the vomit. She was Saint Mary with a good reputation. However, I barely communicated with her. She had a cold heart. She was not good at interacting with her own family. She was active only when she talked about church and her sacred Jesus. Whenever we asked her for dining out, she rejected. Whenever we bought some gifts for her, she told us “Why did you spend money on this kinds of thing?” Then my father said “Mother. Please just say thank you. It is simple”. Then she said “Okay. Thank you.” Whenever we spent time and effort to please her, she always scolded us for spending money. I thought why we were doing this even though she dislikes us. But my father said “Your grandmother loves you. But she is just not very good at expressing her emotions.” I didn't understand why she loved church people more than us. Her stance toward Catholic doctrine was very obdurate. Whenever I question something in the bible, she told me “Don't question it. It is the sacred thing. Just believe it first. Then, you will understand it.” She also told me “You should be obedient to your father. He is the person who let you to be in this world. Don't question about his words. Just follow him.” She passed away when I was in college. Since then, no one in my family goes to church. No one. Ever.

My god died when she died And now, I created my own god.

21

CONFERENCE

Dictee : “Hello Everyone. I am Dictee. Tonight, I am so honored and excited to introduce an emerging new religion, [Leymusoom]. As an anthropologist, I’ve studied the relationship between feminism and religion for almost 30 years. Last year, I found an interesting movement in California and I’ve observed this community for a year. And fortunately, I have one of the believers of [Leymusoom] here. Today we will have a talk about Leymusoom and the believers. The first session will be about Leymusoom’s mythology about how the world had been created. And in the second session, we will talk about Leymusoom’s believers’ independent shrine culture. For the last session, we will share Leymusoom’s believers’ collective bible writing ceremony.

Originally it was planned to be presented by Bodurinao. However, it is during Tao mumu, which is a special annual training week, Bodurinao will not talk today. So instead of Bodurinao, I will do the presentation. Bodurinao will give us some additional explanation if it is needed and Bodurinao’s spiritual pet will help. We have an interpreter in another room. Let’s start. Before we go on, we will talk about what Leymusoom is.

Leymusoom is a cultural aesthetic and a philosophy of science and history that explores the developing intersection of feminism and religion. It combines elements of science fiction.. historical fiction, fantasy, religion, feminism and magic realism with non-Western cosmologies in order to critique the present-day dilemmas of women and to interrogate and re-examine misogynist religious dogma. It began in 2017 by Bodurinao, to criticize misogynistic religion and make a feminist utopian world.

Leymusoom addresses themes of patriarchal misogyny through a science fiction lens encompassing a range of academic contributors with an interest in envisioning a Feminist Utopian world.”

Visit leymusoom.com to see the rest of the Leymusoom Universe and learn about the religion. Heesoo Kwon is a multidisciplinary artist from South Korea currently based in the Bay Area, California. In 2017, Kwon initiated an autobiographical feminist religion Leymusoom as an ever-evolving framework to explore her family histories and communal feminist liberation. To this day, over 100 people have converted to Leymusoon. In 2022, Kwon was appointed as Chinese Culture Center of San Francisco's Artist-Curator, where she expands her communitybased projects by curatorial practice, overseeing the exhibitions, public art interventions, and multi-year commission projects.

In Ley mu soom, there are some rules to create new terms for gender.

Bobo and Eebobo, each mean female and male. And Bbobbo and Eebbobbo each mean vagina and penis. Boeboe is the ideal identity in Leymusoom...

Boeboe means the people who consider themselves beyond gender boundaries. Everyone desires to be Boeboe. Bodurinao became Boeboe about a year ago.

Mona Space TAG-3 is presented as an example of cyberspace architecture in this article. Monaverse is a Metaverse world-building platform that focuses on inventive and one-of-a-kind 3D places.

TAG-3 is a virtual art gallery for displaying NFTs. It includes two conflicting design styles with a general theme of the clashing of opposites. The highly futuristic shape on the outside segment demonstrates modern design without constraints. ''I also wanted this to feel a bit like being in the clouds, where you can't see anything around you except for white forms.''

About the designer: Bryan Ye is a student at the Azrieli School of Architecture and Urbanism (Canada). As a designer in the Metaverse, I was interested in his perspective on virtual reality. Read his response to the article below.

''I agree that seeing architecture digitally isn't the same as experiencing it in person, and I like to remind people that while virtual reality is a future of architecture, it's not THE future of architecture; rather, it's an extension of what architecture may become. The metaverse is essentially a tool for exploring architecture, and that will most likely be its limit. The constraints that architects face while creating in the actual world can never be replaced, and working with those tight physics and building code constraints is what makes the architecture profession so unique. There's one more thing. The metaverse notion may be linked to the popularity of zoom during the COVID era, when zoom was the key tool for workplaces and schools during a period when we weren't permitted to meet face to face with our teachers and coworkers. While Zoom provided a good set of features that allowed for even better methods of presenting work via screen share rather than spending money and time printing and building physical models for crits, nothing beats the in-person interactions with people at school and the studio culture that virtual learning will never be able to replace.'' Find more of BryanYe's work on Instagram: @_telstar.

From the editors

THE METAVERSE: OUR NEW PLAYGROUND?

Words Saartje Nibbering Images Brian Ye

The connection to the real world has become distinct with the emergence of artificial intelligence. In addition to the progressive advances that can be made with technology, the possibility for fantasy, gates, and transitions to other realities is highlighted by A.I.. With a single click, it is now possible to enter a world where regulations and boundaries are relative, therefore it is logical that individuals flee from the limited physical world to discover their identity and ideas in a questionable existing reality. What difficulties and opportunities occur when the relationship between the real world (RW) and virtual world(s) (VW) is strengthened by incorporating real-life processes into digital communication? And with the rise of the digitalization of urban spaces and surrealistic architecture resembling dreamscapes, what will be the effects on the new age architects when they can build in a world where everything is possible?

This article will be an introduction to the concept of virtual reality. It will make an attempt to put a difficult concept into words by exploring different perspectives on the Metaverse (Meta, previously Facebook) in its manifestation to a VW. The fundamental question revolves around the benefits and concerns of architecture in a virtual reality from a philosophical perspective.

According to architect Nicholas Negroponte VW's are in broad sense still assigned as fiction, however, we should get familiar with the fact that it may already be a part of the present.1 Speaking from personal experience, the idea of using a VW as a means in our daily life seems very distant, and in some ways, surrealistic. Nevertheless, Meta claims it to be an excellent tool for the future, and humanity is bound to utilize it in some way or another. If you, like me, love the feel of pen and paper and occasionally feel disconnected due to the vast amount of technology in today's society (or disconnect on purpose), then let's take a look into the advantages of a VW as a tool with a healthy dose of skepticism.

The term "Metaverse" refers to a VW in which people can interact with one another online. It is a network of virtual 3D environments where users may do various tasks using an avatar, or digital doppelgänger. Contrary to popular belief, the phrase was first used in a science fiction novel in 1992. Last year, Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg revived the concept by renaming Facebook into Meta and investing billions in the creation of a metaverse. Although, for the time being, this is largely speculative. Small metaverses such as Fortnite, Roblox, Minecraft, The Sandbox, and Horizon Workrooms exist, but they are not yet linked into a larger virtual environment. The superpower and attractive features of the metaverse relies on the following: in theory, everything is virtually possible.

The position of the Metaverse

With a background in philosophy, I view the concept of a VW to be problematic. To eliminate the untouchable element of the VW paradigm, we must navigate its placement in reference to the physical world.We can debate if the objects in the VW are merely counterparts of substantial creatures, or if they define themselves as entities as is. Begin by asking, 'Where is the virtual world?'.

We briefly touch on the philosophical theory of Metaphysics in our analysis of computer-generated objects, where we define reality and address the question, "What is our position in the universe?".

Concerning the Metaverse, I want to start a thought experiment in which we consider the following question: "What is our place in the universe when the Metaverse exists alongside our world?". It is essential to study the Metaverse's position, whether we are talking about a new world within our world, a new world next to our world, or a new world apart from our world. In the next section, I used both early (Magermans, 2004) and recent (Moneta, 2020) literature to study this subject as a notion that has circulated over time (and surprisingly shares the same principles).

A tool versus a space Magermans raises a fundamental challenge in how we should address virtual reality. In the first case, it could be viewed as a tool that allows us to experiment in an infinite setting. In architecture, for example, it solves the difficulty of visualizing a notion into a three-dimensional representation for the client. There is an indisputable power in seeing a space before it is completed to identify architectural errors, validate theories, and serve as an effective means of transmitting the architect's ideas. Yet, in the first case, we consider virtual reality to be a fictitious world in comparison to the physical world. There are no big operations that have a direct impact on our reality. The second case implies virtual reality as a space. When considering virtual reality as a space, we must believe that telepresence is only conceivable when the body and mind are separated;

transferring the mind to a virtual environment while the body remains in the physical world, we basically gain access to exist in both the physical and virtual world at the same time. This lends support to the idea of virtual reality not being isolated from, but rather existing alongside, physical reality. In terms of architecture, should virtual environment be an identical duplicate of the real world? or may it be an opportunity to create something new? However, treating virtual reality as a space raises the following concern by Magermans: ‘’When virtual reality started, the tendency was to imitate and simulate the ‘’real’’ in the ‘’virtual’’ space. I very much believe that soon the tendency will be to try to imitate and simulate (actualize) the ‘’virtual’’ in the ‘’real’’ space.’’. Will our existence in the physical world be satisfied within the constraints of reality if our imagination has access to such complex and spectacular virtual reality forms and spaces?

''It is essential to study the Metaverse's position, whether we are talking about a new world within our world, a new world next to our world, or a new world apart from our world. ''

The role of the architect

This concern also arises in more recent literature. Andrea Moneta states in her academic research on the Metaverse the following: ‘’Designing architecture on the Metaverse is a challenging task even for experienced architects, let alone for those who do not have their cultural and technical background. Freed from spatial, economic and technical limitations, without a natural environment and an anthropic history, designers of architectures could be easily lost in the digital magic domain where everything is possible and potentially huge.’’ In addition she also claims the VW is not isolated from the RW anymore and we need to extend the role of the architect into the VW. Having said that, a following problem arises when we consider architects are trained to analyze and understand the environment in which they design, including its history and natural environment, all of which doesn’t exist in the VW.

Avatar in Monaverse. Design by Byran Ye. Retrieved from monaverse.com >

Losing touch with reality

I'd like to address one final point raised in both Magermans and Moneta's articles: a critique of control and virtuality technology. Magermans cites architect and philosopher Paul Virilio, who claims that "after the seduction of simulation comes the disappointment of substitution," i.e. preferring a virtual being over a real being is problematic.2

Additionally, Moneta quotes a prediction made by philosopher Guy Debord , stating that ‘’Our society is replacing authentic social life with its representation.

Being the built environment an aspect of social life, we need to acknowledge that VW’s are becoming a wider expression of our personal and collective space, an interactive spatial dimension where, in the very same moment we shape its shape, it shapes us.’’.3 Both citations indicate concerns about losing a sense of reality and eroding our authenticity as a result of digitalization. Should we be worried?

1. In his best-selling book from 1995, Beyond Digital, Nicholas Negroponte claims that we live in a post-digital society.

2. Open Sky is a passionate and quite radical critique of information technology and global media by architect and philosopher Paul Virilio.

3. The Society of the Spectacle by Guy Debord is a critique of contemporary consumer culture and commodity fetishism, dealing with issues such as class alienation, cultural homogenization and mass media.

In conclusion, I feel the perspectives presented above provide us with a glimpse of what thoughts revolve around the concept of a virtual world. However, the amount of literature, perspectives, and ideas available is immense, and I personally believe I fell short of providing a thorough introduction to the philosophy of architecture in a virtual reality. In brief, the concept is too vast to grasp in a single article, so I would like to invite you to start thinking about the potentials and concerns around this topic.

To give you a headstart, think about the following: Do you agree that architecture in a virtual environment will be the solution to many problems as well as a fantastic tool for design? Or are you convinced that if we get too hasty with the overwhelming freedom of the virtual world, we would forever live under a false pretense of reality?

Negroponte, Nicholas. 1995. Being Digital. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.

Magermans, Audra. 2004. Architecture and Cyberspace. Moneta, Andrea. 2020. Architecture, Heritage and Metaverse: new approaches and methods for the digital built environment. California: International Association for the Study of Traditional Environments (IASTE)

Virilio, Paul. 1997. Open Sky. London: Verso Books. Debord, Guy. 1967. La Société du Spectacle. France: Buchet-Chastel.

27

From the editors

A DREAM ABOUT ACTION

Words and Images Emilie Stecher

The more we know what kind of future we aspire the more we can shape our actions. A short overview on the different positions in the Anthropocene.

This summer has been marked by natural disasters. Rivers and lakes have been turning dry in the middle of Europe, disrupting trade, limiting drinking water and withering agricultural land. Once again we have seen the consequences of climate change. By now it may seem redundant pointing out it is our own doing that brought about this changing condition. But sadly, there are still a lot of people who won’t believe or keep themselves oblivious about their impact on the Earth. Continuing life as usual, bathing in their privileges and eating on the wealth colonolialization brought, and still is, bringing about to “protect the eternal present”. But just because the impacts are not visible right here doesn’t mean they are not happening.

Take for example consumer choices – buying a cheap shirt in H&M directly impacts the life of workers in China or Bangladesh and the health of nature in the surroundings of the factories. On a planet with limited resources it feels obvious that at one point this lifestyle and worldview of denialism will hit the disaster wall. But where else is there to go to and how do we get there?

Well, let's find a solution for it! After all, “the best is always yet to come” and through engineering we can solve the problems we encounter. No? Let me prove it: fossils turn into hydro, linear into circular and pollinators into flying machine-bees. Freshwater we extract from the oceans and carbon we store in the North-Sea! And if, because of unknown side effects, all goes wrong – let’s colonize Mars!

Stop. Let’s breathe and take a step back. Let us imagine we live in a continuum of time. We cannot go backwards. This circular notion of time is creating a place that is shaped by actions and reactions. Every action one takes has a smaller or bigger influence on a certain place and time in the future. Each of them are constantly altering the world we are living in and the one of future generations – either consciously or unconsciously. Evolving out of this is a complex system of interdependencies.

Taking this into consideration one could argue that each single action is important for the development of the future. Therefore I want to argue that it is especially important that we get aware of the agency our actions have. If we simplify it one could say that our actions are guided by two things. By the past –the experiences one has had, the culture and knowledge one absorbed – making up the stories of one's life until that point. These stories make everyone react in a certain way. It is maybe something more passive, intuitive. Something that has been learned and internalized over a long period of time. And then there are dreams. They shape long-term goals. They help to keep being motivated, to continue going forward and they give purpose beyond pure existence. While pursuing dreams, active actions towards them are taken which may support their turning into reality. Let’s assume therefore, that dreams are mostly guided by intentions. And therefore they can be stirred by a bigger picture, by a vision.

Denialism

A pointless species/ impotent to change the Earth system

Posthumanism

Powerful Earth

Ecomodernism

Powerful humankind/ changing the Earth system

Different positions in the Anthropocene – The Age of Humankind. Adapted from the unpublished manuscript of Mobilis in Mobile by Dutch Lanscape Architect Dirk Sijmons (2021)3

A little bit more than a year ago I took part in the Dirty Old Town workshop by the Independent School for the City1. Together with landscape architect Dirk Sijmons and exhibition designer Herman Kossmann we tried to find our position in the Anthropocene. To help us navigate through it, Sijmons introduced us to four main positions towards the Age of Mankind, inspired by the theory of Clieve Hamilton2 (2017), an Australian philosopher and science writer. The four positions evolve around two main axes, the vertical one going from humans

as a pointless species, impotent of changing the world's systems to a potent and powerful humankind and a horizontal axis going from a passive earth to a powerful earth which is reacting. An interesting side note – around 90% of all environmental discourse takes place on the left side of the quadrant seeing the Earth as passive. With 75% building upon engineering. Those two views are also the ones described previously at the beginning of the article. Whereas the left side is based on economic growth and deeply embedded into the

Passive Earth

values of neo-liberal capitalism, the right side seeks to understand natural processes and give voice to nonhumans. The main question dividing the two sides is: Who are we doing this for?

Let us look a bit more into the right side of the scheme: If we are not the only living beings on this planet, why do we act as if we are? Who gives us humans the right to exploit the planet, ravage its resources, contaminate its rivers, kill and extinct its inhabitants and still talk of ourselves as being a higher being? We should maybe start seeing humans as equal to all other forms of living beings and stop pretending to be any better. Focusing on individuality has diverted us from our actual being. Only once you see that “we’re all brothers and sisters of tomorrow” can we thrive in balance. And the divide that has been created between nature and culture can be closed for there exists neither one of them without the other. We have to ground ourselves on Earth. And go from a human perspective to a post-human or more-than-human future. Many questions arise from this view for example how can we give voice to and design for nonhumans? Or how can we effectively protect the ecosystems that support life on Earth?

Going one step further we may be able to see our agency in this world. If we don’t see humans only as equal to non-humans but also as the ones who have the ability and obligation to take responsibility for their actions, we may find a new aspiration. A place where we can restore what has been damaged. An attitude through which “the worst might still be avoided”. In this dream I see the many places where I can build backwards, where I can set free ecosystems. Places where I can learn from nature, its processes and try to help them thrive. Use my abilities to take care of the planet and its inhabitants. Listen to the ones we forgot to listen to and empower the ones we do not see anymore. It is a place where we take care of eachother, where there are commons we protect and foster, and

where the reason we do things is not based on economic growth but on the wealth and diversity of the ecosystems surrounding us, constantly growing, constantly changing, and constantly becoming more complex.

In the light of today's climate emergency, with all the challenges right in front of us, it may seem far away, like a dreamscape in the distance. Unable to reach. But like argued before, time is relentless and each action can help shape the desired future. By being aware of the position we take and its consequences, we can take actions that will have consequences at a certain point and place in the future – even though we might not know exactly when. Furthermore, it can enrich the design process by actively guiding and letting it be informed by values of a certain worldview, working like an anchor to hold on to. In disagreement with others, it will help to be true to oneself since there is a bigger reason for it. Let’s start to dare things, to think outside the box, and open up our imagination for a shared future between humans and nonhumans alike.

1. The Independent School for the City is a post graduation laboratory on contemporary Urbanism in Rotterdam – if you don’t know it, here comes a big recommendation to check out their program – they also have lectures and evening workshops!

2. Hamilton, C. (2017) Defiant Earth, the Fate of Humans in the Anthropocene. Polity Press, Cambridge

3. Sijmons, D. (2021). Waking up in the Anthropocene. Unpublished manuscript. Independent School for the City, Rotterdam.

What are you reading right now?

AN ATTEMPT AT EXHAUSTING A PLACE IN PARIS

Words John Hanna, Images Amélie Dupont & Raymond Mesnildrey

Date: 19 October 1974. Time: 2:00 PM. Location: Tabac Saint-Sulpice.

A man goes by, wearing a surgical collar

A woman goes by; she is eating a slice of tart

A couple approaches their Autobianchi Abarth parked along the sidewalk. The woman bites into a tartlet.

There are lots of children.

It is October 1974. Georges Perec (1936-1982) spends three days around Place SaintSulpice at the centre of the 6th arrondissement of Paris. Sometimes he sits in cafés, or on a bench right in the sun. Other times, he stands by the tabac shop. An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris records Perec’s extensive observations of the very ordinary objects, words, colours, movements and flows around the square.

This is not a book that features a standard plot-line. There is no rising action, climax, or falling action. It is merely an inventory of consecutive moments, where the protagonists are the observers and the observed.

Perec, like many members of Oulipo*, likes to experiment with his writing. In this book, his experimental technique effortlessly captures the richness of everyday urban life.

* Oulipo was a group of writers and mathematicians founded in 1960 by Raymond Quenau and François Le Lionnais which focused on experimental writing forms.

In this edition John Hanna, who is a PhD candidate at the Chair History of Architecture and Urban Planning, recommends George Perec's An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris

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NEXT ISSUE: DIGEST

Whether they are buildings, objects or fashion, designs can give us tingling sensations. Yet, some are rather hard to swallow, leaving us with a bit of an ugly aftertaste.

In the next edition, we will indulge ourselves in a discussion about the future of food in design, and designing with food! Can we make our designs edible? How do we create and engage with spaces where we eat? While we understand how our body functions when it comes to digesting food, how can we interpret our mind when it comes to digesting design? See you next month, and bon appetite!

Bnieuws 56/02 due November 2022.