Informality 7 by Informality

[7]

Bernard and Anne Spitzer School of Architecture The City College of New York 141 Convent Avenue New York, New York 10031

Credits: George Ranalli [Dean] Gordon Gebert [Chair] Marta Gutman [Advisor] Camille Hall [Director of Finance and Administration]

Informality Staff: Filipp Blyakher B.Arch Thesis [Editor] Chrisoula Kapelonis B.Arch Thesis [Editor] Jamie Edindjiklian Alumni [Supporting Editor] Solomon Oh B.Arch 1st year [Production Coordinator] Kaitlin Faherty B.Arch 3rd year [Production Coordinator]

Filipp Blyakher [cover credits]

table of [contents] Rei Chiang Tate Sumner Chrisoula Kapelonis Roger Martinez

[4.5.6.10.18] [7] [8-9] [11]

Christin Hu Berta Cusco Freddy Mello Peter Kelly Jenkins Jamie Edindjiklian

[12-13] [14-17] [18-19] [21] [22-25]

Polina Tymoshenko Artur Dabrowski x Rei Chiang Julian Henderson Veronica Velasquez

[26-27] [28-29] [30-31] [32-33]

Filipp Blyakher Maura Whang Cesar Juarez Steve Ramirez Melissa Santana Veronica Rivas Michael Luft Weissberg

[34-35,44] [36-37] [38-39] [40-43] [44] [45] [46-47]

[photos]

Rei Chiang

Rei Chiang [photo]

tate sumner [untitled] Balance Harmony Pattern Scale Sociality All have been lost Find the intangible oscillation of the life which exists in a place or should exist in a place and encapsulate it, deeply at its core ...with nothing more than the magic innate to the ordinary, breath definition and distinction into the balance. Allow room for life, accept the presence if death, create with the repetition of nature but with the inter-relational flux of nature. The object may be simple if its associative context is enriched. Reject the imposition of false rhythms for they are self-destroying On a rapid scale; vapid failures of a world seeking better to find a worse version of sameness. Images have failed us, speed has crippled us, and technology has obscured us. Architecture is alive; It is mankind who has died. Tate Sumner [untitled]

[simulacrum]

chrisoula kapelonis [simulacrum] We are living in a strange time; an evolutionary mutation. We are living in a new normal. It’s a time where transience is the world’s religion and information, is its crack. We are amidst a revolution. Man lived in an acoustic space before writing, a physical space before bytes. Welcome to the ephemeral; All forms of media are rapidly transcending from an analog existence to their non-physical counterpart. We are embarking on a threshold to a purely digital state. A space where the lines of reality and simulation are blurred. Gone are the days of linear evolution, of predicted progression. Gone are the days of controlled growth. Things are different now. The internet has procured possibilities that approach infinity, extending thought beyond our capabilities for comprehension. It is limitless; the perception of serendipitous freedom. Information retrieval has become instantaneous. Currently, we engage with interfaces that allow for publication. Data is constantly streaming from the consciousness of the web into interfaces that interpret it. They help expel our ideas to the world, and feed our need for recognition. And many are free for the users. Generation digit; where sharing is our currency.

Our utilization of these tools though, hinge on the side of obsession. We have become a population with an addiction for complete informational immersion. As a social concept, this repetitious exchange of information, is utopian. But, we’re nearing a threshold of imminent repercussions; the transition from internal security to uncontrolled instinctual chaos. The digital world is rapidly approaching the moment where all our internal strifes are revealed; where all will know all secrets. The algorithm; the digital architecture, will absorb the massive amounts of content generated by the “users [products],” and start to decode the world. The infrastructure of human systems will no longer be unknown. But at what cost? Soon, there will be a complete media turnover. The machine will become a true extension of our minds instead of a controlled hiccup. The process will be seamless. Privacy, the withholding of knowledge, will cease to materialize; we will no longer be liars. Because the moment we even think about it, everything will be publicized. Complete transparency. But the architecture becomes invisible.

Chrisoula Kapelonis

Rei Chiang [photo]

roger martinez [a beat]

What do we know? Architecture is old Overtime it developed slow From a simple home To trying to explain the unknown Historical artifacts that had our minds blown Our minds have grown We now comprehend Where to begin Where to end With no need to question the origin Of such a radical thought Then how is energy caught? The future is sought The new age has brought A new perspective The tendency to be inventive We question the incentives Future and present Whereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the precedent? The origins of our present is the past The origins of our future is the present And so we set a task What will you do to make this architecture last?

Roger Martinez [a beat]

[photo]

Christin Hu

berta cusco [discovering the park] Discovering the park The best moment of the day is just before sunset, when the sky begins to change its color and the lights of the city start to turn on. When crossing the bridge towards the park, fresh air seems to mask the sounds of the neighborhood: the traffic, the alarm of the fire truck, and the insistent music of the ice cream truck. At the end of the bridge, the euphoric music from the skating rink makes me look inside to see the scene: children learning to skate, young people having fun, and some really stylish skaters dancing to the music. Next to the skating rink, walking across the running track, I hear the voices of AfricanAmerican boys playing basketball in the courts behind the soccer field mixing with the conversations of people jogging nearby. Somebody must be playing tennis as well, because I can hear them too. Finally I get to the swimming pool, where all these sounds disappear, and there is only this strange underwater silence that gives a good repose to an exhausting day. Outside, I see that it’s getting dark. Gazing new horizons The park lies behind the trees of Riverside Drive. It is a good place to go when I need to hide myself from the city. I cross the bridge, discover the river, and everything becomes infinite.

[discovering the park]

Once in the park, perception of New York City becomes fainter. Tall buildings dissolve into the distance, between the trees, and the busy noises become remote. The park is a place for camouflage from where I can see the distance, but not be seen. This means that nobody can spy into the park from the city. Once inside the park, I can take advantage of the great views offered looking across the river. The nearest city, my city now, becomes remote. When I get up early, I go to swim before doing anything else. Every time I walk to the park swimming pool, still sleepy, I experience this phenomenon of inverting distances. I feel like I’m abandoning New York City and entering an isolated land from where it is possible to see the neighboring state, but not the neighborhood I just came from. Some references remind me that I’m in New York. At home, in Barcelona, the horizon is flat when I look towards the Mediterranean, and the mountains define the limits of sight in the other direction. Here, looking downtown, the horizon is not a straight line; and in the north, the George Washington Bridge, illuminated till 7 am, dominates the cliff-side: an even better view than of the Collserola Mountains. Dissolving dualities On my way into the park along the streets of the neighborhood, I can recognize a unique community of any possible ethnicity

or social class. But inside the swimming pool there is a totally plural environment. People come from other parts of the city, and different communities and social classes share the place without hierarchies. This is the “swimming pool condition”; it has the power of dissolving dualities. On one hand, swimming is a way to escape from reality. On the other hand, the pool is the place where reality takes place in a more natural way, without prejudices. When everybody is wearing a swimsuit and a swim cap, and all men and women, old and young, and black and white are submerged in the same water, the usual categories disappear. Awakening the senses It is Thanksgiving morning; a sunny but a very cold day. Fall is wonderful in New York City, the warm colors totally transformed the park. Most of the leaves survived a violent storm and are still decorating the trees. It is as if the warm colors would offset the cold weather. When the day is clear like today you can see the details of the skyline, the skyscrapers appear defined and forceful among the trees. The presence of downtown’s profile is stronger and the sense of where you are is unavoidable. In some sense, these bright cold days make the park more urban as the perception of the city becomes clearer albeit distant. Sunlight in New York is more intense than in Barcelona, or maybe I perceive it more intensely because of my out-of-context perceptions. Living in an unfamiliar place awakens the five senses. The brain needs to record every single second

Berta Cusco

[discovering the park]

and feeling as all is new and unknown. The mind cannot have a moment of boredom or rest. Maybe this is the reason of why I am so happy here. It is not easy living abroad, but this constant mental activity keeps you excited. Today I rarely realize that there are less people than usual. But, even now, once inside the swimming pool, it becomes evident since I don’t have to share my lane with anyone today. Beating, still The cold is paralyzing. In winter windy nights it is an adventure to cross the bridge. The humidity of the summer has flipped into a frosty chill from the Hudson. I walk as fast as I can, passing by bundled families. There are no more colorful leaves on the trees, the athletics field is closed during the cold season, and the lights are always off. So the park is emptier than ever before; no families having a walk, fewer basketball matches, and the American football kids are not running around anymore. The skating rink recently became a illuminated for the hockey teams that started training season a few days ago. But still, even now, the park is quiet and silent... Darker. Against all odds, concentrated on the ice rink, beating as a bright radiating heart in the darkness, is the life of the park. Silencing silence

city. Usually it is annoying as it contributes to an increase of stress in the environment and keeps the nervous system hyperactive. Traffic. Pedestrians talking on their phones. Advertisements. A Mr. Softee in the summer. The Salvation Army bell during Christmas… Noise. However, when I am alone in the middle of this overwhelmingly dynamic ecosystem I hear everything from far-far-away. I think we all have an interior silence that keeps us isolated, especially if we are alone in a strange context. This silence helps me keep calm when the metropolis becomes too aggressive, but when I spend too many days alone, the interior silence becomes dangerous and alienating. A day without speaking with anybody loads body and mind of a cold and heavy energy…that accumulates without you noticing. As Enrique Vila-matas writes on his novel Dublinesque: “When it gets dark we all need someone. That’s just as true as that when dawn breaks, we always need to remember that we still have some goal in life. New York fulfills all the requirements for being a real driving force for staying in the world.” Thus, I needed to rescue myself in these silent lonely days. The best way to hold your own alienating interior silence is to bring it into an exterior silent ambient, such as the swimming pool. The quietness of the park accompanies my silent days, and the water cleans the strange energy accumulated during the day. Noise, silence, and loneliness have taught me the rhythm of life shared between my two home cities: New York and Barcelona.

Noise is an essential element in the big

Berta Cusco

[untitled]

freddy mello [untitled] In the quiet lonely sepulcher, endlessly waiting for time to tire itself out, you lie. Confined in utter darkness and solitude all that seemed important is no more. No need to adorn your temporal husk with clothing to conceal and belittle yourself. No need to appeal to anyone for everyone persists while you desist. Under the surface, nature and time will inevitably reclaim your body and the body next to you, equally, with no distinction of sex. Sexuality may work to continue the cycle of life and death on earth, yet gender ideas are a mere constructs of societies. There is no better place to see the triviality of this ephemeral notion of gender than in a cemetery. Where else can I appreciate your temporal existence? Here I can contemplate that I should not dare to presume in ignorance: to construct judge an individualâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s life before she can reason?. After all, when you are dead and buried, what does it matter? If you consider leaving the world of alone, then ultimately, why should you consider denying yourself joys , which may differ from the social norms? Gender is an act performed by a genderless sexual body. It is an act, which is rendered unreasonable when the curtain falls. For through the years, the body decays and what is left is a heap of bones adorned in genderspecific clothing. It is only by scientific tests that the sex of the deceased can be recognized. Death calls upon everyone to pay their debt, yet women have generally been granted more time on earth. A death is felt by an the entire community, yet the brunt

of responsibilities and pain are bestowed upon the family. Thus the death of a person is a time when the community briefly enters into the private domicile/estic and familyrealm to offer condolences and reaffirm collective bonds. Above ground, the cemetery is a communal stage for the performance of Gender norms in the never-ending largely male gender ritual of burial. If death were not intrinsically connected with life, the ramifications of burial practices would not be such a clear reflection of social expectations. The cemetery is not the sole place for death. Passing begins at the basin the bosom of the family, and one numbly carries death walks through the street finding his or her resting place in the cemetery. Death is not still, it quietly walks the bustling streets and roads of the living, it wanders the homes and burial grounds, death dwells in the hearts and memories of those who remember. For what else can be done but walk through the valleys of shadow of death, until this light of the world, finally, passes slips away.

Freddy Mello

Rei Chiang [photo]

peter kelly jenkins [urban design]

The 21st century must be the century of innovation regarding the design of the built environment and the sustainability of our infrastructure and transportation systems. The forms of our cities, regions and buildings have been inefficient, both in terms of their ecology and their contribution to our society’s social capital and equity. The traditional housing typologies and regional morphologies that have accompanied suburbanization are outdated and have often lead to socio-spatial inequality and environmental deterioration. In the last 50 years, many of these communities have been lauded as the manifestation of the American dream; the ideal of pastoral living, but the status quo is beginning to be challenged. With energy costs and income disparity increasing, green-house gases multiplying, metropolitan roads congesting and the amenities of cities becoming en vogue, people are beginning to rediscover urbanity and the importance of progressive design and social interaction for a high quality of life . Sustainable infrastructure systems that help move people and freight, deal with storm water management and water systems while increasing access to regionally grown food and local energy sources will be key. Within the context of peak oil, energy technologies will help us re-imagine new networks that supply our built environment, movement systems, waste management systems and agricultural sector in a renewable and sustained fashion. Urban planners, engineers and designers will play an essential role in defining how we as a

country relate to each other, our ecology and our metropolitan regions. Many urban areas in America are experiencing a level of investment and interest they haven’t enjoyed in decades and for good reason; Cities are the economic, political and cultural arteries of our society. In this new century of intense global urbanization, city planners, urban designers and architects will play a central role in designing the places where people live, work, play, and dream. With a projected 80% of the world’s population living in metropolitan areas by mid-century, we must begin to implement balanced urban design solutions that address conurbation growth, regional transportation, and ecological regeneration at the heart of environmental ecosystems. In America, a fresh approach to design will be critical. Public and private entities will work individually and together to create mixed-use urban communities that transcend the rigidity of traditional land use. Transit-oriented development will offer an alternative to the auto-centric lifestyles that have defined the era of suburbanization. Green design will ensure that the built environment and transportation sector reduces its contribution to green house gas emissions. Urban designers will have to be fluent within the context of this new ecology and urbanism. It’s time to redesign the American dream!

Peter Kelly Jenkins [urban design]

jamie edindjiklian [words, buildings, and landscapes] MoMA PS1 describes itself as one of the oldest and largest nonprofit contemporary art institutions in the United States. It characterizes itself as an exhibition space rather than a collecting institution, and devotes its energy and resources to displaying the most experimental art in the world. With an edgy and progressive statement, it is only fitting that the organization chose to conserve and repurpose an existing building and use the name ‘PS1’ as an imaginative play on words; an offbeat nod to the past. Henri Lefebvre tells us that an existing space may outlive its original purpose and the raison d’être which determines its forms, functions, and structures. The space may become vacant and susceptible to being diverted, reappropriated, and put to use quite different from its initial one. Bingo. Consider what PS1 stands for and what it means to the city. In 1976, Alanna Heiss created a space for the arts and the individual without glorifying the object, as many museums do. PS1 made the experience of contemporary art approachable and rooted it to the urban fabric of the city. Partly as a result of this course, my interests lie in surveying the relationships of buildings to nature, and how we use the senses to manifest an experience. With many shifting rationales for dominating, degrading, and reinventing the natural world, I find it difficult to align my perceptions with any one singular version. I also found myself absorbed in Barthes’ writings on the Eiffel Tower, and subsequently Michel de Certeau’s text

[words, buildings and landscapes]

Walking in the City, which engages everyday practice of the individual versus unified views of a city. And finally, Henri Lefebvre’s grasp on phenomenology rounds out my exploration of PS1. In an effort to better conceive notions of positionally, (non)permanence, power, structure, and the experience of the individual, I have focused primarily on the courtyard at PS1. The building itself contains a rich history of uses and formalities, but the yard enclosure provides the opportunity to relate PS1 to the urban scale. It mediates between the city and the building (the micro, the macro), acting as a crux. Lefebvre discusses space as a social product; it is not neutral. He tells us that the potential of the human experience is embodied, and we therefore skew our perspective of the built world if we favor vision above our other senses. Michel de Certeau illustrates walking in the city as the exemplar action to rouse the exercise of an individual’s tactical sense. Cities represent highly structured spaces, neat and ordered. Although they command numerous spatial and temporal disciplines of the body, the act of walking, rather than using alternative modes of transportation, allows the individual to appropriate their own idiosyncratic experience. Not only do visitors at PS1 do this as they advance across the courtyard, the artists and designers do it too. Veritably, they are the ones that facilitate this type of embodied experience for the everyday person. The individual, the artist, or the

performer chooses direction, demeanor, and objects of moment or juncture in order to foil structured spaces. The walkers and creators tell individual stories of a journey while undermining a particular urban space that attempts to prescribe systems of arrangement upon its inhabitants. Space is experienced and recollected selectively as an assembly of fragments. De Certeau suggests that individuals produce their own interpretations of space during the process: “Walking selects and fragments the space traversed; it skips over links and whole parts that it omits. From this point of view, every walk constantly leaps, or skips like a child, hopping on one foot. It practices the ellipsis of conjunctive loci” (Walking in the City, 101). I love that de Certeau likens the experience and memory of walking in the city to a child. PS1 was known as the First Ward School when it was built in 1892, and I’m certain that a vast number of children did leap and skip around the courtyard that is now used as a progressive experiment in which to stimulate and test the innovation of artists, architects, and performers. Both Lefebvre and de Certeau deal with everyday practice and its relationships with the investigation of how the users operate. Visiting PS1 gave me the chance to perceive the ways that individuals collectively navigate from the city streets, and to read New York City from somewhere other than an all-inclusive point of view. Here, I was able to perform a functional study of the city, where I became a reader and observer, rather than solely a dweller of daily existence.

The courtyard at PS1 has an odd, triangular shape. I’ve never been in another space like this one. The geometries are made more apparent by the choice of materiality. The tall walls slightly allude to a labyrinthine layout, but I do not lose my sense of direction entirely. I am able to see direct adjacencies, like the row of houses on 46th ave, and the graffiti-covered Five Pointz building across Jackson Avenue. Vibrations from the 7 train and the rumbling trucks transporting industrial goods can still be felt, so I know I haven’t stepped out of New York City when I enter this space. However, the sight of traffic and the life of Long Island City at the scale of sidewalk interaction has dissipated. The city is slowly being excluded as the individual proceeds further into the courtyard. From the outside, these tall, dense walls veil the entryway to the building. Concealing the approach is intriguing; it draws me forward in the quest to uncover what lies beyond, and what is not immediately apparent. You were once able to walk through this space as an extension of the public realm, but the recent addition of a bookstore and enclosed vestibule for the ticket kiosk now adds a layer of filtration. Individuals can trickle in, but the experience of tactically navigating the city in a way that is not synoptic or fully determined, as explained by Michel de Certeau, is much more difficult. The loose gravel at my feet makes me more aware of the shifting ground beneath each step I take. There is also a straight concrete path leading up to the building, but the peculiar geometries and cutout thresholds between the yards tend

Jamie Edindjiklian

to lure visitors and invite them to meander. Whereas the classrooms and the building of PS1 have a sort of ingrained character, I think of the courtyards are more of a blank slate. Just enough of a nostalgic disposition permeates through. The concrete walls redress the original schoolyard function. I understand it as normative forms animated through new materials and uses. But I think the space itself is still maintained as a place of leisure activated by artwork and inhabitants. It is a sectioned off piece of nature. The courtyard creates defined limits, but when the space is transformed for summer parties, events, and installations, the design becomes a provocative and communicative experience. The end result is the materialization of an exchange of ideas. The temporal nature of the installations and events creates an juxtaposition to the enduring backdrop of the concrete walls and to the building itself. Each installation gives the artist the opportunity for artistic reinvention. During my most recent trip to PS1, I made every effort NOT to think about Lefebvre or de Certeau, but to experience the environment created in the courtyards in a way that felt germane. I took notes, recorded my experiences, reactions, and the like, but only made connections to the philosophers in retrospect as a way to verify my own approach and judgment. The first file attached is an axonometric drawing of only the renovated spaces of PS1, which I didn’t fully understand. I think the renovations are much richer when shown in context with the parts of the building that maintain the character of the school. Nonetheless, I used the drawing to diagram the

[words, buildings and landscapes]

spaces I was able to visit on November 16th. It also illustrates the courtyard before the addition of the ticket kiosk and bookstore at the border of the courtyard and the street. The second drawing is a document of my meander through PS1. I recorded decibel levels in different spaces and annotated sensations. This became the framework for the subsequent drawings made using grasshopper. Third, I provided a photo of the site showing the immediate context for reference. After that is a series of drawings, each focusing on sound, vision, touch, and movement. There are many sources of sound around PS1, but not many are visible from within the courtyard. The drawings done in teal show the isolated sound sources from beyond the courtyard, that can be heard from within. The dotted drawing shows the inverse, where the sound of gravel underfoot and the echoing of voices or sounds from speakers are derived from a visible, known source within the courtyard. The largest image is an overlay of these systems. Visual connections across and beyond the courtyard are interesting at PS1. Acrylic rods have been placed where the ties used in construction once held the form-work and hydrating concrete together. There are a series of small moments that require the individual to engage with the cool, smooth concrete in order to see through the looking glass to the sidewalk outside (However, this moment only occurs on the wall facing Jackson Avenue). The next two groups of drawings titled “void flows” and “warm up flows” are a comparison of movement and

ps1 courtyard: mapping the everyday context and installation from summer 2012

congregation when the courtyard is inactivated (where people can meander and just mill about), versus the 2012 summer Warm-Up Series installation. There were certain areas where people were more prone to stand around and socialize, such as in shaded areas and in front of food and drink vendors (right side courtyard and the threshold between that and the large, triangular space). There was also much more confined movement at the front of the site (ticket kiosk), and the very back of the site, nearest to the entrance of the building (performance area and stage). In the void drawings, individuals are likely to meander, but movement is more continuous since the courtyard is the threshold between the arts center and the city. The warm-up drawings are more indicative of social interaction and large crowds. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve learned that it is important to understand a multitude of viewpoints and perspectives to look at our built environment subjectively in analysis and design. Throughout the course of the semester, I have been exposed to so many dispositions and outlooks, some of which I never even knew existed. Even so, architecture and our environment can be used for progressive purposes and as a tool for sovereign critique and refinement of social relationships. Lefebvre defines everyday life as the intersection of â&#x20AC;&#x153;illusion and truth, power and helplessnessâ&#x20AC;? (The Critique of Everyday Life, 40). When I think of the experience of walking through the courtyards of PS1 and entering the building, I can sense that we are dealing with an artistic laboratory, an alternative space to test ideas within.

ps1 courtyard: mapping the everyday visibility overlay (cuts through left wall, solid concrete masses)

jamie edindjiklian

ps1 courtyard: mapping the everyday flow overlay (inactive state)

jamie edindjiklian

ps1 courtyard: mapping the everyday flow overlay (active state)

jamie edindjiklian

Jamie Edindjiklian

[photos]

Polina Tymoshenko

[an american city ix]

artur dabrowski x rei chiang [an american city ix] A place burgeoning with high technology / a place haunted by low society. The train left us for the night. We ventured out. Pleasant streets and pleasant works left and right. We saw a beautiful park but its population was odd; awkward noises and disconcerted motions. We dared not venture, we knew other more-pleasant sights would await us in the concrete jungle. But no, every corner was like another scene from “Thriller”. The night was plagued with nothing but zombies. We walked though the city and a certain fear struck us — these slow moving denizens of the night shifted aimlessly. But their actions lacked energy; they were harmless to our fast pace. We walked by crowds of people watching, doing nothing at all, just watching us watching them. All we could do was walk back to the refuge of the apartment, lock our two doors, and let the problems of society stay outside the comfort of those four walls. By daytime, they will eschew the light. It morning, the city brimmed with life and technology. People carried their nine-tofive rituals in glass cubicles. Their constant energetic actions keeping the motionsensitive ceiling lights on while central-air cooled down these men and machines from overworking themselves. Amongst the high technological fascination of the city stood a shining citadel of progress, a multi-million dollar investment. This was the latest of modern construction outfitted

with the latest of modern accessories a contemporary library. But amidst the vast hoarding of information printed and built, was embedded a secret lifestyle of the survivors past last nights. These individuals, ragged amongst the stainless steel, glossy paint and power-washed glass, found their own refuge from the problems of society. Here, in architecture, is where these survivors, no… these men and women shared the privileges of modern society: designer chairs made for posture and an unlimited access to a world of content and communication. How these individuals decided to use this information was to their discretion — do they educate themselves now while other institutions are too opaque to allow it? — or do they fall tragically to the cathartic pulse of endless memes and internet distractions? High technology surely has offered humans more privileges; broadening the gap between those who have plenty and those who have not. Here in this transparent construction exists a glimmer of hope that architecture is capable of opening doors to privilege. But this particular building closes at 8 pm. And when the center of information closes, all its promise and hopeful denizens went back to the street, where it was less hopeful. Only the artificial lights gleamed now; there is no more sun and no more promise for the day. To watch the darkness pass and fade, their future was to start at 10 am yet again. * an excerpt from The Great American Journey Artur Dabrowski x Rei Chiang

julian henderson [the bronx]

As one of the distinct cultural boroughs of New York City, The Bronx is home to famous institutions like the New York Botanical Garden, The Bronx Zoo, and Yankee Stadium. It is known as the birthplace of hip-hop culture and holds one of the most diverse and colorful populations in the city. The Bronx remains the cheapest borough to live in and has received a wave of low-income New Yorkers from other sections of the city. Areas like Harlem and sections of Brooklyn have seen the rise of luxury condos and escalated property values that have begun to change the character of unique neighborhoods and press the looming threat of gentrification down upon their residents. I was born and raised in the Bronx, and I are a current resident who is concerned that the borough that I have proudly called my home will follow down the same path. Will the city become a place just for the wealthy to live while those who have less are forced to live on the fringes or clustered in sub sufficient housing projects? Architects may not be in control of the natural flow of economics and priorities that place profit over the social good. I want to argue that we do have a voice in the matter and therefore we possess some influence over it. As the designers who bring fresh concepts and building forms into being we have the opportunity to balance the scale of new developments. Our opinion matters. Our goal should be to design buildings that enrich the lives of their inhabitants but not at the

[the bronx]

sacrifice of others. The aspects that make low-income neighborhoods so valuable to the people who live in them need to be preserved, including affordability. The erection of new luxury developments should be balanced with new affordable housing options and improvements of existing lowincome neighborhoods and their homes.

to live. The borough could lead the way in an effort to combine quality affordable design for low-income groups with the preservation of beloved neighborhoods. I just hope the Bronx remains the adored and proud place it is to those who call it home.

The recently completed and highly lauded Via Verde project in the South Bronx is only a step in the right direction. On the one hand, it is a lively new building complex that could perhaps symbolize the beginning of a revival for the neglected and stigmatized southern section of the borough. It is advertised as supposedly affordable, with mixed income residents and design features sculpted towards comfortable living. However the exclusivity of this new project shows just how high the demand for affordable housing is in the city. I also believe that large projects like these need to be careful not to disturb the fabric and character of the neighborhood. Highdensity and gigantic developments are not always the best option. Regardless, I think that creating housing options of mixed income groups is a way to begin ending the discrepancy created between high quality condos and low quality public housing. All residents of New York City deserve quality living conditions no matter how much they pay for their homes. A revival is needed in the design of affordable housing. Meanwhile, the Bronx remains the last refuge for those people driven from their neighborhoods seeking an affordable place

Julian Henderson

veronica velasquez [casa de la memoria] It’s a Saturday morning in a small neighborhood in the city of Medellin, Colombia. Juan and David are playing hide and seek. In this game there are no boundaries, they can hide anywhere in the “Morro”. They run up and down through the narrow streets. They hide under the stairs and the piles of garbage. Doña Gloria is hanging the clothes to dry while her daughters sit outside, gossiping and listening to salsa. Don Pacho, the owner of the corner store watches his customers drink beer, discuss soccer and feed the stray dog. Juan, David, Doña Gloria, and Don Pacho live in a garbage dump. The outsiders say their neighborhood smells and is dangerous, but for them it is all they know. They succeed in it after a while, and they love it. Juan and David explore everyday and learn something new about their barrio and neighbors. To them the “Morro” is their home, and not a landfill. To them their narrow unplanned streets are uncharted exploratory routes. To them the ground is full of mysteries, surprises and opportunities; not garbage. Juan’s house is small and so is David’s. They are made of wood scraps, reclaimed doors and windows, roofs of corrugated steel held in place by tires and bricks. Their parents built these shacks when they moved to the garbage dump 30 years ago while running from the poverty and violence in of their rural towns. They made their living recycling, surviving from the hill of garbage from which they made their homes.

[casa de la moravia]

These are the memories of the Moravians, before their “barrio,” was taken down. Five years ago, the government of the City of Medellin started to demolish the settlement in an attempt to create a new urban park. Now, Juan and his family live several miles away, relocated to and area called Pajarito, a new high-rise development where the cracks in the concrete are already visible and the plumbing often fails. He doesn’t see David anymore. The new barrio is too far away and it’s too expensive to commute. Doña Gloria stares blankly at the open horizon, where several houses once stood. She misses her friends, their loudness, the kids running around, the music playing and the smell of food seeping through the alleyways. Don Pacho is closing his store because most of his clients have been relocated. The few that are left are fighting to either stay or receive a fair compensation for their land; they are fighting for the right to dignified living conditions. Now Moravians look up at the Morro and see builders covering their mound of garbage with concrete as they experiment with remediation before they build the park. Moravians wonder if the memory of their past will also be buried by the concrete along with all the garbage. They wonder where their collective memory will rest once the government changes the face of the barrio. They need a space to remember,

to educate themselves and others, and to create new memories that will strengthen their culture. Casa de la Memoria de Moravia, which will be an addition to the new urban park, will be a space for memory. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s primary function will be to collect physical, oral and visual traditions from the people of the settlement. It will be a space for the locals to remember in both formal and informal ways. The program of the building will allow people to not only see the exhibited documents that will tell the story but also to express their own reactions to the history in different ways. Its dual quality of informal and formal will be explored in the way in which the tourists and visitors form the city relate to the space in contrast to how the locals will. The museum will be a mediator between the recorded memory and the one that is created day to day. La Casa de la Memoria will sit on the far side of the hill. This will allow for visibility in relationship to the city as well as to the neighborhood. Its organization of programs will be a response to the internal circulation of the neighborhood. The small one-way streets will be continued into the building in order to create a strong connection between the everyday activity and the recollection of memory. This building will allow for ongoing explorations and events, both in local and city scale. It will celebrate the memory of the Morro and the people that inhabited it. It will be a place to gather the collective memory of the Moravians, from their everyday life, which will help in the process of strengthening the community. Veronica Velasquez

[concept rendering]

Filipp Blyakher

[chopstick wall]

maura whang [chopstick wall] “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,” wrote Robert Frost. With thousands of disposable wooden chopsticks as material, my process of building a wall resulted in the discovery of this something daring to reveal itself.

“Stay where you are until our backs are turned!” I would silently implore the sticks, and I would leave them to settle in each night. When the wall collapsed at a neat 5’5” x 4’ x 2’, what had fallen were thousands of chopsticks who resisted this request and many hours of time. What I realized as I felt the weight of them on the ground was that there was nothing to do but respect what had happened and continue to allow them to grow in number and rebuild, or mend, this wall. My control over this process could only go so far as constructing the modules from which the wall arose, using the tensile force that an unbroken pair of chopsticks embodies. The structural stability, which I created with this material, could only go so far. My first wall was laid to rest at 3,136 pairs of chopsticks (224 modules of 14 pairs of chopsticks each), 39 pounds, and 6 feet high. I imagine working in a room of sticks, erecting walls of many sizes until they are forced to yield to a force greater than their sum, and proceeding to build on top of them until the room is full.

Maura Whang

[furniture design]

cesar juarez [furniture design] “Architects can have real freedom to experiment only if they assume financial responsibility for possible failure” -Alvar Aalto I was expecting Furn Design 2 to be a class that taught us about joints and possibly allowed us to make our studio models during class time. It turned out to be much more than that. We were allowed to make anything we liked so long as it was out of wood and constructed well. I sketched a few designs and often times referred back to a Enzo Mari book left available for clues. The first few weren’t anything special; it was maybe the fourth or fifth sketch that got me interested. The chair would sit low to the ground, the gesture was simple and clean; a rectangular frame which was the structural integrity of the piece with an intersection serving as the seat inserted within. I put the design into Rhino to locate each intersection and make sure my angles matched up: 64 and 109. The chair looked fine but it didn’t feel right. I plotted it and pinned it on the wall. I sat next to it- It sat too low- Rhino obviously didn’t show this. I sketched where the back should lie, where I wanted the legs to fall, and how far up the back should come. Then I rendered it with all possible wood, paint options, and factoring costs. I came to choosing maple for the frame since it would be the stronger and more pronounced piece of the chair. The seat would be pine since it is a softer and less expensive wood, and it would ultimately be black so as to contrast the frame. I was obsessed with this chair. I sketched details for it on my spare time. I looked forward

to the next class to ask the professor what detail we could put into the notch, or how dado joints worked or even if he liked it. I think when assignments are free for the student to interpret and to push forward it sparks creativity and gives the student ownership of something: It makes us come to our own findings and conclusions.

Cesar Juarez

[instagram]

Steve Ramirez

[instagram]

Steve Ramirez

Filipp Blyakher [photo]

veronica rivas [photographic sounds]

I want to keep my eyes closed Feel the breeze touching my face Be transported to another place Where I can hear the sound of nature The wind blowing through the trees The sound of water as I walk by a puddle I do not want to open my eyes To see the real world And not be able to see what I expect From the images that sound has produced Those photographs might disperse in my dreams But the memories of them would remain in my mind for long.

Veronica Rivas [photographic sounds]

[photo]

Michael Luft-Weissberg